While in Nagarkot, I had the privilege of talking to two women about their lives in their village. From my short stay in Nagarkot, I learned that the people in the area practiced Hinduism and Buddhism. Oddly, there were no visible temples or places of worship nearby. The two women so kindly offered to take my friends and me to their own personal place of worship.

We approached a dark room where there was a large picture of a man on the wall with a red light glowing above his head. Out of the temples and prayer rooms I have visited, this was the first time I saw a human being at the focus of the worship. I already had so many questions.

We sat down on pillows in a circle as the women started to give us an overview of this spiritual teaching they practice known as “Om Shanti,” which they tied into Hinduism. In Hinduism, the three principal gods recognized are Brahma (the creator), Vishnu (the sustainer), and Shiva (the destroyer) with Shiva primarily being worshipped. The women went on to explain that Shiva chose this man, the man on the wall, to be his son. His name is Om Baba. They believe that they can hear from Shiva and worship Shiva through Om Baba.

In this spiritual teaching, they believe each person has 84 lives. At death, the soul leaves the body and then goes into a baby inside a mother’s stomach. If a woman has a miscarriage, it’s believed that the soul who inhabited the baby’s body was very sinful. If someone commits suicide, their soul might not inhabit another body, but rather just float around and become a ghost who haunts people. Suicide is considered the worst sin in Om Shanti.

Strict practices come with Om Shanti. The women told us that they have to wake up at 2 or 3 in the morning every day to worship. After that they go for a morning walk and come back and worship again. Every time they go to the bathroom or sleep, they have to change their clothes.

Anytime they wanted to leave their village or go somewhere they would have to ask Shiva (through Om Baba) if they had permission to leave. They told us they could feel his response and then would act upon it. The women also must treat their husband as they would a brother.

Surrounding the room were posters with information regarding Om Shanti. We asked about some of them and the women grabbed them off the wall to explain. One of the posters had Shiva on it, along with other gods from many other religions. The women told us that, “all other gods from other religions are simply Shiva’s messengers.” They explained that all followers of Om Shanti believe that people today have made the mistake of worshipping these “messengers.” These messengers may have been telling a version of the truth, but in the end it’s all sent from Shiva – or so believe the Om Shanti.

Om Shanti is like nothing I’ve ever heard of before!

I was very thankful to learn so much new information from these incredibly kind women.

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brahma_Kumaris

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After a month-long series of Hindu holidays, we have reached the last major festival of the year: Tihar. Better known in the Western world by its Indian name ‘Diwali,’ the concept is the same in both countries.

Background

First, a bit of background about the various Pujas (worship) of Tihar before we get to the Rangolis:

This festival, the nation’s second most important after Dashain, lasts five days. Each day has a unique focus of worship.

Day 1: Crows, heralds of death or misfortune, are worshiped in an attempt to avoid death and sadness

Day 2: Dogs are worshiped partially because people like them, but also because the hold a special place in Hindu mythology.

Day 3: Cows and Lakshmi are worshiped even more than they usually are as symbols of abundance. It is on this day that Hindu’s undertake a major cleaning of their homes and shops (not unlike Spring cleaning in the West) and undertake a variety of ritual activities intended to invite the goddess of wealth, Lakshmi, into the home.

Day 4: This day’s activities vary by people group with some worshiping their own soul, some oxen, and still others worship cow excrement (not joking).

Day 5: The final day culminates with all of the country’s women worshiping their brothers.

The Rangolis of Day 3

A rangoli is an elaborate bit of colorful street art designed to catch Lakshmi’s eye and welcome her into one’s home. These are made with dyed gypsum powder sold by street vendors all over Nepal. A small path is often drawn from the rangoli to the entrance of the home to further guide her path. In the evening of the third day, this path and the entrance will be lit with candles.

The photos in this post are of various rangolis that were spotted while running errands around Kathmandu.

Enjoy!

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Keeping Warm

Over the years there have been different methods used to keep from freezing during the long winter season in Northern Nepal. As it is often too cold to grow anything during these three months, or even go outside, the only jobs assigned are typically just to keep warm and wait until the growing season starts again. Gas is often used through the summer, however, the cost of the pricey import proves too much for most. Due to this, wooded jungles between mountain peaks become very important for survival. Jungle wood is collected to burn, not only for the heating of houses, but also to cook food and boil water.

Actually, the jungle proves even a greater purpose than just keeping the locals warm. Many villages send their animals out during the winter months so they can pursue their own warmth. The cost to heat animal barns is much too high for many to afford. From cows to horses, bulls to oxen; every animal parades back to their owners in the warmer months for food. Some villages label their animals, while some just let the animals remember who their original owner is. This 500-year-old tradition has yet to cause disputes between any owner as they say, “Animals are smarter than we give them credit for.”

More than Just Cows Trying to Survive

Visiting the beautiful village of Thini in Upper Mustang, we learned a bit more about this type of farming. Implying every animal parades back in the spring is actually a little off base. Just because the jungle provides warmth, does not mean it provides safety. There are also predators lurking in the area.

In Thini and similar villages, Tiger attacks are the main cause of animal loss, not the winter cold. About 3 horses go “missing” (are eaten) every winter season in the jungle. That means about 3 unlucky farmers lose most of their worth and investment every single winter. The smaller animals fortunate enough to stay closer to the village, only remain fortunate as long as food is available to these tigers in their own territory. If the cats are hungry enough, it is not abnormal for them to leave their jungle abode and attack the closest villages for the remaining meat.

One would assume that after living in the same area for generations, there would be better strategies to fight off the predators. This is where it gets tricky. Most of Lower and Upper Mustang lies in the Anna Purna Conservation area. Animals, plants, rocks and anything else that finds home in the diversified terrain is strictly protected. Just as a trekker cannot take home a monkey or kill a fish for dinner, the locals are regulated by the same rules. This means tigers cannot be killed even if they are attacking the villages. After all, no one wants to spend time in a Nepali prison.

The Solution Is??

So every winter the same cycle continues. The wooded area provides warmth for the houses as the farm animals find survival the same way. The tigers typically mind their own business in their dominated realm. They eat the food provided to them. The farmers take back the animals who survive, and those that lose their living, do what they can to recover. Sometimes the only strategy is to hope and pray for a smaller loss the following winter when the icy winds rattle through the valley once again.

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Tourism as an Industry

The Himalayas have been a traveler’s destination for decades. Adventurers looking to hike, or simply to experience a new culture, find the mountainous landscapes and religiously ingrained lands of Nepal appealing. Because of this, tourism has had an incredible impact on the country and its growth. Children understand that visitors come with money, chocolate, balloons, and toys. Their parents do not overlook the power of the industry either.

Agriculture destroys all other avenues of profit in Nepal as the hillsides are covered in vegetables, rice, and wheat. Not too long ago, it dominated the market at 90% of the entire country’s income. Today, that number has slipped down to about 70%. The missing 30% is currently being occupied by industry and services. Both of these markets have been nurtured primarily by the tourism market. Production of goods and souvenirs strengthen the industry market. Meanwhile, thanks to the many visitors, restaurants, teahouses, and hotels have exploded, thus strengthening the service market.

Other market realms, such as business, are diminishing. Most business is either outsourced or flees to countries such as India, China, Austrailia, and America. After all, those fortunate enough to go through higher schooling are able to re-locate to more affluent countries for higher paying jobs. With this in mind, the growth in tourism provides major income sources to the country; both for those with education and those without the money or time for school. Numbers aside, it does not take long to see the additional impact of this increasingly important industry.

At the Tibetan refugee camp, in the district of Mustang, farming land is difficult to come by. There are some crops growing in this area, however, they provide barely enough for food, rarely enough for sale, and never enough for savings. With the struggle to earn profit the same way most of the country does, the tourism market provides a lifeline.

Desperate for product sales, “pop-up shops” are put together for the tourists that stumble through during off-season. Sheets are thrown down on benches or other flat surfaces to display goodies and souvenirs. The handcrafted jewelry, wooden carvings, and metal plateware gives the sellers an opportunity to provide a bit more for their families; all out of a shop they keep in a bag on their back. However, if one were looking for a peaceful shopping experience, this is not the place. The first seller that spots a tourist will typically encourage and rush them before other villagers can spot the new guest. It’s a race of unequal opportunity of whom can first show off their souvenirs to the strangers carrying money in their pockets.

So What’s the Problem?

One of the biggest hurdles Nepal faces, alongside most other third world countries, is the issue of transportation. Dangerous roads, narrow ledges and slippery terrain makes trips quite a task in dry season. Monsoon season is an entirely different beast making paths often impossible to drive on. This proves difficult for goods, imports, exports, mail, people, and animals to be transported. Thanks to money trickling in through trekking permits, conservation area costs, and fees for museums and historical or religious sites, the government has been able to start bettering their country. As it should, the money is being used to fix the roads. Even though this may be joyous news to bus drivers and trekkers planning future trips to Nepal, this progress does not excite everyone.

Just down the road from the refugee camp, in the same aforementioned district, lies a very small village named Pandkhola. Only being three houses in size, the area has also been fed partially by the tourist market. Though not a main destination, the heat of the day often convinces those trekking past to stop for a cold drink, snacks and the occasional souvenir. Previous road conditions forced most to travel on foot to the bigger tourist hubs. The updated roads promise something much more disheartening. Better roads mean more buses, shorter commute times, less stops and less business for the roadside store and the people of Pandkhola.

Markets for main trekker destinations will continue to thrive. Unfortunately, small villages across the entire countryside will have to learn entirely new means of business and survival. Whether that is through the costly process of obtaining more land, or evacuating the villages entirely to find work in other areas, these people’s lives will change dramatically. The power of tourism in Nepal is enormous. It has the power to build and grow an area or wipe one off the map. The saddest part is it often has nothing to do with who is more deserving or who’s children are more hungry.

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Hour One:

We boarded our bus right on time at 6am. Excited to finally be on what we understood was the shorter half of our trip, we gratefully accepted the less than sufficient legroom and working windows. We had just gotten off a 12-hour bus ride from Kathmandu up to Beni. The longest stretch, at least by standard of kilometers, had been covered and we were exhausted. Looking through the windows that did allow us a breeze and some vision, we saw our driver and his staff seat themselves down for their cup of morning tea.

Hour Two:

As we found ourselves at the top of the 7oclock hour, we had yet to move from the bus stop. Milk tea being enjoyed and jokes still being passed around we realized our first mistake. Assuming American time is in any way associated or relative to Nepali time was a slip up of amateurs. Living very much to the standards of an idol in this country, Bob Marley, his lifestyle holds very true – no worries and absolutely no rush.

Hour Three:

By 8am we had finally started our journey. “Started” being a gracious term I can use, whereas “progressing” would definitely be more of a stretch. Due to the remote area we would soon be visiting, our trip was broken down to pick up supplies. Imports such as water, feed, building materials, food, and the occasional hitchhiker were piled on to the bus. Few buses traveled up this far north. Drivers, such as ours, could pocket extra money by not only the transport of people, but also by becoming a Fedex service. Buses help to supply villages that cannot afford to travel to higher destination areas for supplies.

Hour Four:

We were moving along at a decent pace; swerving around fallen rocks, muddy patches and the numerous cows. Nepali’s have a rather impressive skill of getting to the end destination at the exact time they first give you. At first this seems like a simple concept, but has actually become more and more spectacular the longer we’ve been here. We have been told before a journey is 11 hours and upon boarding, the driver estimates 19. We made it in 18 hours and 59 minutes. With this knowledge, we held hope that despite the stops, our time on the bus was still trickling away.

Hour Five:

By this point we had learned that our bus was primarily full of Nepali police being re-located to another district. Thankfully, this proved very helpful come the next few hours.

Hour Six:

Pee break. Our van emptied and everyone stood in a line on the side of the road to urinate in unison. Our driving staff took the opportunity to snatch some wild weed from the opposite side to chew on for the rest of the trip. I cringed hoping that wasn’t the same spot a previous van had used for their pee stop.

Hour Seven:

Finally closing out the morning and making it to the top of the 12clock hour, we soon found we still had much adventure in front of us. About halfway through the seventh hour of our trip, the bus driver popped a tire going a bit too fast over landsliden terrain. Our Nepali friends laughed as they assured us, “Driver, he is crazy!” I personally can never deny that statement. His mohawked hair and sleeveless, leather jacket only heightened his ludicrous personality. What at first could be mistaken as a goatee was in fact hair growing more than 6 inches out from a mole on the left side of his face. The greasy, unmaintained group of hairs bounced along with the rhythm of the bus every once in a while getting tucked into his jacket; always to appear again.

Close to an hour and a half later the repair was finished and we moved around the corner again to discover another landslidden area. Traveling in off-season, monsoons form difficult patches of flooded earth to drive over. This is where our van full of police truly played their role. Every couple minutes the van would empty out. The officers pushed from behind only to scatter when the van slid backwards towards them. We would begin to make ground after a lot of pushing and shaking and everyone would sprint to jump back on the bus. Typically a few didn’t make it. However, everything worked out fine as moments later, the bus would get stuck, the stragglers would catch up and the process would be repeated.

Hour Nine:

Cheers erupted when the bus finally made it over the mud lake. Excitement and energy built in the group as we surged several yards forward. Then we stopped. Traffic Jam.

Hour Eleven:

Two hours later around 4pm, we were moving once again. Our pace continued along comfortably and surpriseless the next few hours. Temperatures were starting to drop as we climbed in elevation. We filled our time playing our new favorite game; “Hill or Mountain?” “Nooooo” our new friends laughed when we suggested the absurd idea of a mountain out our window. “Very big hill!”

Hour Thirteen:

As our trip winded down to a close we were again very naïve to believe we wouldn’t go out without a bang. The bus jolted to a stop-in front of us, a river. Not just flooded ground or a trickling brook, but a stream strong enough to take down a person. There was not a long hesitation before we began backing away clearly in pursuit of a new path-or so we thought. The driver revved his engine and flew full speed ahead, directly towards the rushing waters. Our bus, of course being nowhere near 4-wheel drive, was pushed around by the strength of the water. Shrieks escaped from the passengers, and not only from our group. This is the part for all the moms to tune back in. We somehow made it safely to the other side.

Hour Fourteen:

As the sun began to set, around 7pm, we pulled up to our final destination in Jomson. Our driver and his crew were quickly out infront of us and the other passengers in pursuit of plates full of rice and beer. Although I cannot blame them; I would not mind forgetting parts of the journey either. Still trying to decide if the destination was worth the travel, our translators came by to assure we were all okay and happy. Shortly after we had sat down for our evening meal of rice and lentils, the drivers wandered over to mingle with the foreigners. A little too happy by this point, they stressed their respect for us. They told us that they understand how difficult it is to travel in their country and are always impressed by those who opt out of the plane options for a more authentic bus experience.

They kept asking us if we were happy. We were alive, we were under the presence of some of the biggest and most magnificent mountains in the world, we had all the tea we could drink and all the dal bhat we could stomach.That night I learned my favorite new phrase. “Lang Pang.” Whatever we eat we enjoy; whatever we see, we enjoy; wherever we go, we enjoy. Yes. I am very happy.

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Pictured left is an object known in Nepal as a Karkula (Hindi: Urli). It is made of a special metal known as Tama. Though it originated in the South Indian state of Kerala as cookware, it has become a common decoration throughout the Hindu world. This one in particular graced the doorway to our guesthouse’s reception.

While the Karkula’s significance seems to vary from region to region, Nepali friends told us that people in Kathmandu drink water out of it for good luck. The flowers, it was explained, are merely for decoration.

Have you seen a Karkula outside of South Asia? If so, comment below to let us know where!

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Our “day in the life” ended shortly after as we were instructed to take rest until the afternoon meal. Around 400 pounds of rice will be harvested from our small patty in just over 3 months when the bright green colors diminish to a light brown. Just like all other areas of Nepali culture, community trumps these tasks as workers scurry along to find other patties to assist in planting during this prime time of the year. Even though other districts can go through the planting and harvesting cycle two or three times a year, Chitwan has only one limited season for rice growth because the intense sun will wither the weaker plant outside of the rainy season. In seasons where rice doesn’t cover the landscape, other crops such as soybeans, maize, barley, wheat, and pulse (a seed similar to a lentil) take their turn in the soil.

The most peculiar part of the farming process is what happens while the sun, soil, and rains do their job. Almost nothing. For most families, agriculture is their only source of income. Some look for odd end jobs around the town for a little extra cash flow, but most families find themselves in a waiting period until harvest. Afterwards the process begins again; planting, waiting, harvesting. This means unless a family has any bit of income tucked away they are without money, and ways to earn it, during these growing seasons. With the supply of rice being high and demand low, poverty remains. With no other option, locals laugh as the white kids eagerly help during their “one day in the life.”

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Pictured is a man who lives in the Annapurna Mountain Range.  He is carrying a water jug which is nestled in a typical hand-made basket.  In the background is “Machapuchare” or more commonly known as Fishtail Mountain.  The Annapurnas are located in the North Central portion of the country and are revered by the local population as sacred.

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