On Friday I met this Danish guy, the only other white person somewhat around Lamahi (go figure) and had a staunch discussion on democracy (huh), free trade (...mhmmm) and why the world is the way it is (he says: human nature to need someone to step on. I say: aiya). He doesn't think there is much (if any) suffering in Denmark, and I am raising an eyebrow even still. That's right, go wave your liberal institution flag around. I'm sure everything will always work in favour of capitalism and free trade and market liberalization and one day we will all definitely not be scratching our heads wondering why we stayed stuckin systems systems systems of structural injustice.
And then we went out out out out into the countryside to Deepa's house where I was struck motionless by dust swirls in afternoon light by red red blossoms in a green green tree and swallowed again by feelings of how on earth does our world even work and I thought maybe it was hopelessness but it isn't, it isn't. It is a sliding and realizing and I know one day my ideals will probably crumble and I can't avoid the steps the rest of the world seems to be taking but i'll try and try and try and in the process wonder if (Danish par example but not as scapegoat people) ever consider themselves so obviously as white people and where do lines divide and do they do they do they make a difference and where where how.
We tries Nepali...liquor....for no idea of what else to call it, and it reminded me of the candy fizz, and so that's how that went.
And we met Deepa's daughter and Dinesh told us her story (Deepa's), and I was overcome with the desire to wrap her and her tiny daughter in a hug and make her safe in this violent world somehow but nobody can do that, no one person can do that and she never asked. And again I wonder where the line goes between asking and needing and crossing and bleeding.
The food was spicy and amazing and we sat on plastic chairs and here I understood why people can sit and look and watch and I want to lose all sense of time someday and do just that.
Saturday we drove to our hotel resort an I was overwhelmed by the luxury which even still is maybe 3 stars in Canada but soft pillows and a pool (!!!) and being served soft drinks when we first arrived four hours away from Lamahi and then the pleasure of sitting by a poolside, even if it was crowded, positively packed, with stating Nepali men. Because white women in bathing suits doesn't, I gather, happen often. And I could excuse most of the staring on account of that but still I tailspun into a small feminist thing about the male gaze, in all its manifestations.
Aha.
Food was not rice or roti (!!!) and we stayed up till a late 10:30 just hanging out. Bedtime, wake up to the sounds of our gecko friend stuck in the windowsill,
and it is May 19th.
And I woke up struck by this fact that May has slipped through my fingers somehow and so, a little bit, has this year, even though this present 2013 is not the same 2013 as two weeks ago, as two months ago.
So that...happens.
And today we went to Lumbini.
The birthplace of Lord Buddha.
I looked into temple cores and Buddha statue eyes and travelled by rickshaw and sweltered in humid heat and crickets blasted around us and it was quiet and it was not and I swear the Buddha could see my soul and I think now I'm still not sure how I feel, perhaps like someone has reached inside and a little bit gently but more firmly then anything brushed who I am and said this is who you are even to the parts I don't know yet.
And time eclipsed itself and now now now we are home again, Lamahi with its bus horns and rice-or-roti and our wonderful hotel family and it is impossible but also not that I missed this room and this place.
it is may 19th.
how
even
do these things...
happen.
place.
That is what I am uncovering here. Place and space and how it relates, identity, divinity, uncertainty. Poetry.
This place.
ah.
-k
Tharu food from Friday.
Nepali spirits.......
Our wonderful Friday evening hosts. Deepa is beside me.
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