(From the yak board)
Whenever I travel I gain a new appreciation for all things in my life
in Kentucky--toilets, education, countless opportunities, drinkable tap
water, hot showers, washing machines, dryers, and so much more. But one
of the things I seem to appreciate most while away is my family.
Sometimes it's through homesickness, but more often it is through seeing
and experiencing things that remind me of how fortunate I have been and
am. My family has always supported me no matter what. From the time I
was little I never felt any pressure to do something specific. I had the
entire world before me, and I still do. I never had to fight to take a
gap year. My family loves me and knows that I will do things when I'm
ready. They always have my back.
My Nepali family is absolutely no different.
Before I met them I was feeling homesick and nervous.
Then I saw Mamu.
She
was smiling with her whole face and looked truly delighted to meet me.
All of my fears melted away. I was home. My bhaai, younger brother, is
so sweet. He's almost eighteen so I'm not sure if "sweet" is the word he
would want me to use to describe him, but it fits well. He is always
there to lend a helping hand, make tea for me, show me around
Kathmandu--anything. I met my baini, younger sister, my second night and
knew life would now never be boring. Punku is a nine year old full of
energy and creativity. She's helping me learn Nepali, both spoken and
written, and we are never lacking in the art project department. She
reminds me of my sister in America in that she is not afraid to be
herself and she sees the world in different ways. She's such a beautiful
comfort.
But my Mamu is one of my favorite people in the
world. Even though her English is not perfect (whose is?) we still
communicate. We smile and hug all the time and I think she will soon be
comfortable enough to let me help in the kithcen. She radiates warmth
and kindness in everything she does. Her little songs and dances remind
me of my American mom, another great comfort. I have never been underfed
or uncomfortable in this house and do not think I ever will be. As my
Nepali teacher says: "People love to feed you. They want you to be fat."
Truly, they just love everyone in general. That's been my experience so
far, at least. Everyone is baa, aamaa, dai, didi, bhaai, or baini.
Everyone is family. Sure I get stares, but even people on the street
look after me. Upon trying to enter my house by myself, I did not think
to try turning the handle on the gate. I simply saw the lock on the
inside as a barrier and assumed I could not get in. I fumbled around for
about twenty minutes calling my bhaai's cell phone when suddenly a man
came up and began trying what seemed to be a doorbell kind of thing,
pounding on the gate and calling out to anyone who might be inside. I
had not met this man before; he probably does not speak English; and
yet, he stopped working to help me.
There are kind people
everywhere, I know. I had met them in four other continents before this
one, but being part of a new family and being so easily accepted has
changed my view towards humanity. Every man is my father; every woman,
my mother; every boy, my brother, and every girl, my sister. We are all
connected by the very fact that we exist. We can never break that bond
so why should we try to? It is so much nicer loving all and being loved
by all.
It is only my fourth night as Asha Sharma and I
am already dreading the day I have to depart. It is lovely to be part of
family I can see and talk to every day--so nice to hug a mother and say
"I love you. Sleep well!"
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