Darjeeling, India
June 13, 2006
Dear Friends in Rotary,
Big triumph yesterday! My first all-Nepali official interaction! It all started as I was walking slowly up the hill after my morning Nepali class. I was heading to CyberDyne, the fastest internet in town, to post some photos and answer emails. I passed Mr. Gopal, outgoing Rotary Club President here, who was sitting in his office at the Timber Lodge not far from the city's main post office. I waved, but Mr. Gopal signalled for me to come in for a short chat.
"You must register at the Foreigner's Registration Office," he told me. "All the foreigners staying here must do this. The hotels all perform this duty for you, but now you are staying in a private home and you must register."
I had passed the office several times on my way to the internet, but I had thought it was just for tourists who wanted to travel to Sikkim, a small Himalayan kingdom just north of here that is under Indian protection. That's a big tourist destination hereabouts.
So I popped in to the Foreigner's Registration Office, which is just up the road from Mr. Gopal's lodge and spoke to the man at the desk. And spoke in Nepali! He had to smile, because of course, with less than a week's course under my belt. I made plenty of mistakes. But I told him I was staying in a rented room with a Darjeeling lady, that I was studying Nepali here, and that I have a visa for three months and a student visa. He was still laughing when he pointed me to an inner office, where there was a man with an enormous book.
I told him the same things, and answered all his questions. Sometimes he had to prompt me with the English word, because of course all these educated folks here speak English, but he was respectful enough of my efforts to keep the exchange in Nepali. He took my passport and noted down all the information in his big book. It turns out he's a friend of one of my Nepali teachers, and so sent along his regards to Mr. P.K. Chettri.
When I wrote a week ago, I still had all the major elements of my Rotary Club scholarship up in the air. I had finally arrived and I'd attended a Rotary Club meeting, and a Rotary social function where I met the wives of several of the members. But that was all.
Now, a week later, I'm settled in to my new home, attending classes four hours a day and doing at LEAST an hour of homework every night. And learning to read, write and speak the Nepali language at a rate that astonishes me. I love learning languages, as those of you who attended my interviews and presentations may remember. But this is the first time I've ever been privileged to both live and take language classes in a different country, and the difference it makes in my efficiency in learning is wonderful.
I sure have a lot to be grateful to Rotary for! The members in the Darjeeling Rotary (District 3290) have been just great. Mr. Diwaker Thapa invited my husband and me to visit his kindergarden school and treated us to a morning of song, hand clapping, and discussion with his adorable little charges. The children presented us, as is the custom here, with silk scarves to welcome us. (So did the Rotary Club, by the way, at our first meeting.) It's a beautiful custom in the Himalayan mountains. In Tahiti, they use necklaces of flowers and shells to welcome guests. Here, it's silk scarves.
Mr. Gopal, the outgoing club president here, introduced me to Miss Kaushalya Giri, a retired teacher and former school headmistress, who has an extra little house across the lane from hers. The room she offered me (and I accepted!) is just right for a visiting scholar. It has a big study table, electricity for my laptop (when it is working...Darjeeling suffers from frequent blackouts), a bed and a place for my clothes. I have my own private toilet and bath rooms, though here I must say I'm glad that I have a little experience in this part of the world. The running water is available about once a week in this neighborhood, and the folks here use that precious time to fill up buckets and buckets of water for the coming week. A bath consists of a bucket of piping hot water, delivered by the teenage servant boy. I fill the rest of the bucket with cold water to bring the temperature to my taste and use a small pitcher to pour the water over me to make a shower. Believe it or not, I really prefer this method over a regular shower. It wastes no water, and it's very satisfying!
Miss Giri and I have formed a very warm relationship. She teaches me Nepali every morning after breakfast until lunchtime. She's a patient and kind teacher, indulgent of my many mistakes, but also firm in her determination that I should learn to write alphabet of this new language, and then to learn to read it. I take my three meals a day in her lovely little sitting room, which also serves as our classroom.
At about four o'clock in the afternoon, I have another hour's class with Mr. P.K. Chettri, a Nepali teacher in a private high school called St. Robert's. He and Miss Giri met on Saturday to coordinate our efforts, and we have formed a very efficient team, the three of us! I had thought I could just learn to SPEAK Nepali, bypassing what I was afraid would be a slow and cumbersome process of learning a whole different script. But no. These two have ganged up on me, and by golly, I'm starting to sound out words on market signs, on the Nepali television programs and in the children's alphabet book Mr. Chettri gave me.
I'm very fortunate in being already quite familiar with the Indian and Nepali cultures. I appreciate their food (though Miss Giri tones down the hot chilis for my Westernized stomach's sake), and I know how to eat properly, with my fingers, which very much pleases her. I understand when to take off my shoes, how to greet people with the proper respect, and how to make my way through the bureaucratic maze that characterizes administration here. As the French say, "Vive la Difference!"
I told Miss Giri when I arrived that I will eat anything she serves me. Folks hereabouts are anxious to please their guests, to feed them well, and they do worry that we won't like their food. Miss Giri gives me eggs with bread and cheese for breakfast, rice, various curries and salad for lunch, and for supper I usually have vegetables and some kind of homemade bread-- chappatis, paratha, roti-- all very delicious and piping hot. It's mango season, so I usually have a mango once a day. The vegetables are mostly familiar: okra, lots of potatoes, cooked greens, and raw carrots, cucumbers and tomatoes for salads. I'm very happy with the food, and Miss Giri, who worried just a little about my American tastebuds, is relieved and pleased.
Left to organize:
A volunteer situation: I've contacted the social services center in town run by the local Jesuits, and over the next week or so, I hope to have a project to accomplish there. I'd like to see if I can assemble a group of social service organizations in a technology workshop, to discuss their computer problems and talk about solutions I've gathered that other nonprofits and charities around the world are using to promote poverty reduction, education, environmental protection and understanding.
Presentations to the local and further afield Rotary Clubs: The LCD projector I use for my photogrphs is being used at the moment for the World Cup in Soccer, but as soon as that international phenomenon is finished, everyone will be a little more receptive to my offers to present programs. The other clubs are not easily reached over these mountainous roads, but already one or two of the Rotary members have offered to accompany me to other clubs. I'll be get phone numbers and contact names at the next Rotary Club meeting.
I could not have accomplished all this progress if it were not for the concerted efforts of many friends, new and old. The Jesuit college here, a world famous boarding school and university, has supported me at every step along the way. First Father Van and then Father Victor-- both have paved the way with introductions and suggestions, so that when I arrived, I was greeted as practically an old friend. The local Rotary Club, led by Mr. Gopal, but backed by my first contact in the club, has moved mountains to get me a place to live and tutors for my studies in record time. And, of course-- this cannot be said enough-- the fine folks from District 7690, from John Womack to the Jamestown Club and my counselor there Howard Hicks-- have made this incredible experience possible through their generosity and committment.
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