Do you have a deep appreciation for random situations?
Do you enjoy being able to stop at any given moment and
laugh at the ironies of life around you?
Are there times when all you want to do is milk a water
buffalo?
Then Nepal is the country for you! Take a few minutes to
live vicariously through the wonderfully random happenings of our team’s month…
“Gretchen and Telula”
Upon arriving to our host home this month, our team found
ourselves standing outside of a house that bears a striking resemblance to a
tree house. It is not actually in a tree, but much of the home is exposed to
the outdoors, and big posts hold up an open porch above the kitchen. It was the
perfect little hide-out for the month.
We received our room assignments. Two adjoining rooms downstairs
for the four girls and a big room upstairs for the guys. We took our bags into
the rooms, and surveyed the surroundings. All of the sudden, Sheila and I
noticed that we had some friends on the other side of our window. We had
additional roomies for the month! A water buffalo and her baby were tied 2 feet
away from our beds. We affectionately named them Gretchen and Telula.
“Sumador to the Rescue”
First a little background information. The Nepalis eat on a
bit of a different schedule than us. They eat a regular meal of rice, daal, and
potatoes/cauliflower at 8:30 or 9:00 am. This meal is called lunch. Then, there
is a smaller meal at 2:00 pm that they call “kazaa”. This is translated to “eat
and go”, and it is much like our lunch. Then, dinner is anywhere from 6-7 pm,
and it is usually the same type of food that was eaten in the morning. Because
the food schedule is set up like this, they eat large amounts in the morning
and evening. Kazaa is somewhat optional to the average Nepali. But, they soon learned
that we were very big fans of kazaa, as well as very dependent on it. The
pastor’s son, Sumador, has been our main cook. He and his wife, Elina, has been
taking very good care of us with all kinds of delicious meals!
During one particular day of ministry, our team was on the
way to a local market. The pastor brought us through some villages to
evangelize along the way, and we walked to a beautiful public park beside a
river that ran along the cliff of a mountain. The scene was breathtaking, and
we spent some time there enjoying the view and praying. Because we are here
during the dry season, the river was very low and we went down to walk in the
riverbed. Our team and the pastor were skipping rocks, praying, and relaxing.
It was getting later on in the afternoon, though, and our stomachs were
grumbling. We knew that we were far from home, and wondered what the plan was
for kazaa. We were starting to accept the fact that we just might have to go
hungry until dinner, when all of the sudden we heard the beeping horn of a
motorbike off in the distance. Our team looked up to find Sumador making his
way over the rocky ground of the dry riverbed on his motorcycle (more like a
dirt bike really) and retro maroon helmet with the visor up, his usual stoic
facial expression set on his face. We erupted into joyous cheers and merry
accolades. Pastor Achute turned to us, and with one word proudly announced,
“Kazaa!” The father and son exchanged a few words about where the anticipated
feast would take place, and just like that, Sumador turned around and went off
just as he came. Within a matter of two minutes he had turned our whole day
around. We decided to pray once more as a group in the riverbed before
following after him. Everyone had just barely bowed their head when all the
sudden we heard again in the distance “beep-beeeep, beep-beeep!!” We turned,
and much to our surprise Sumador had somehow made his way to the top of the
cliff/riverbank already, where we would eat. He stood tall next to his
motorbike and waved victoriously to us.
Nepal has a superman, and his name is Sumador.
“Bowling for Poop”
One of the unfortunate side effects to growing up with
proficient plumbing is the poorly executed use of a “squatty-potty”. For those
of you who are not fortunate enough to have experiences with novelties such as
these, a squatty-potty is a porcelain hole in the ground. There are places for
your feet on either side of an oval shaped opening that funnels everything down
into the ground. This is its intended function, anyway.
Our team found out about a week or so in that we were sorely
misusing this particular squatty. We all had a sneaky suspicion that this might
be the case after a couple days of our movements not moving anywhere.
In a desperate attempt to be considerate to our hosts, we
tested out a few different methods of flushing said squatty. Along with any
hospitable squatty come the basic accessories of a bucket and pitcher. These
utensils are provided to make your problems disappear. We tried the pouring
approach, but this simply was not forceful enough. Some thought that perhaps
the altitude would make a difference, but there was still no success.
After many different attempts, we found the bowling
technique to be the most effective. An aggressive toss of the water makes all
the difference. If you ever find yourself in a similar dilemma, remember this
important advice!
This we know for certain, squatty-potties are not for the
faint of heart.
“All Aboard the Ox Cart”
There were two or three days of rainy mornings and dreary
skies. During one of them, we had planned to go evangelizing. Our team was
waiting out the scattered rain showers and hearing the increasing thunder. Just
when we thought that ministry had been called off for the day, there was a tiny
clear patch in the sky and Pastor Achute jumped on it. Our translator, Raj,
told us that we were going to go ahead to the village, and would be leaving in
5 minutes. I came downstairs to tell the girls the news. I was in the middle of
explaining that we were going out after all, when Pastor Achute and Raj came
hurrying down the stairs. As we turned to see what the hubbub was about, Raj
yelled, “If we leave in five minutes, we can catch the ox cart!” With that, the
two bustled off.
We weren’t exactly sure what to expect, but it sounded like
an ox cart was a very desirable thing. So, we got ourselves together, and
followed after them. Outside the gate, just as Raj had said, was a cart with
two wheels hooked to two white oxen. With a shrug of the shoulders, we accepted
the random transportation and started hopping onboard.
Apparently there is an art to entering an ox cart, though,
because Andrea and I immediately tipped the cart back, making the yoke fly up
in the air. After getting the cart under control and getting everyone on
safely, we set out on our journey. Our pace was a staggering 1.6 miles per
hour, but who would want to rush through an ox cart ride? We were a little ways
down the road when the rain started up again. We stopped for shelter a couple
times. During the second stop, the neighbors invited us onto their porch. We
stayed there for about 20 minutes before the bulk of our team decided that we
would run back to the house since we were already wet. We took off running in
the middle of the road during a rainstorm, as if being American didn’t make us
noticeable enough.
We arrived back at home about 45 minutes after we had left.
There wasn’t really a purpose to our trip, but then who would have tipped the
ox cart, sat on the strangers porch, and ran in the rain?
