Letters and Rockets

Everyday here is the same. We get up about 8am, after the host children have left for school, and have breakfast: rice, dahl, vegetables. Yesterday Bidhya made a sweet rice porridge because the night before, Christopher had a stomach ache and could only manage a little rice for dinner. I think he over-did the hamburger and momos at the Bakery Café.

Neville and the boys leave about 9am and catch a taxi to their school. Suhendra told them they should catch the bus because going by taxi everyday would be so expensive. Catching the bus would be a whole other nightmare of negotiation and a taxi costs just $5 a day—return.

I leave at about 10.15 as it only takes 5 minutes to walk to CBR and the children don’t arrive til 10.30 at the earliest. They get back on the bus about 3 and I leave about 3.15.

Nev and boys usually leave between 2 and 3 and stop at the Café on their way home to fuel up, otherwise the boys, especially Christopher and Dan would be starving living on just rice and dahl.

On my way home yesterday I had to post a letter. I easily found the building marked Post Office and stepped into a small dungeon. There was a woman sitting at a table just inside the door and further in was a counter with a grill across the top like in a bank. I asked the woman where I should take my letter and she just pointed at the counter where a man and another woman were sitting. The Nepalese envelopes I bought didn’t stick down by themselves so I asked if they had anything I could seal it with. They pointed to a pot with a pen in it sitting on another counter. I pulled out the pen, which had some glue on it and tried to rub some on the envelope but there was so little glue it wouldn’t work and the woman at the table started cracking up at me and speaking something incomprehensible to the other staff. So I gave up and took my letter back to the counter where the man pulled out an actual glue stick and sealed the letter for me. I asked how much to send it and they said 40 rupee. I handed over a 50 rupee note and while the man was getting my change, the woman said, ‘Not 40 rupee, chalis rupee.’ What? I thought they were trying to swindle me. ‘Chalis rupee, not 40 rupee. In Nepali is chalis rupee.’ Ah! They were giving me a lesson in Nepali. They all had a great laugh at me, so I counted to 10 in Nepali so I could demonstrate that I at least knew that much. I said after 10 (das) I don’t know any more. They had another laugh and he handed me my das rupee in change.

So now what do I do with the letter? They indicated the table inside the door and I took it over there. Another woman who I hadn’t noticed before came over and stamped the letter and threw it into a large round basket under the table. I thanked them, they all laughed a bit more and said hilarious things in Nepalese that probably meant, ‘Can you believe how stupid these westerners are?! Don’t even know how to post a letter!’ and I walked out wondering whether my letter would ever actually reach Australia.

About six o’clock yesterday evening there was an enormous bang quite nearby. It sounded exactly like a gun and I hoped it was someone shooting the feral dogs. But Khushpoo, the daughter said it was a rocket. It was what they use as fireworks during festivals and Suhendra said it was just some idiots letting off their leftovers. Annika said that when she was here there was some festival happening and they went up on the rooftop and let off these fireworks. She was given one to light, expecting to be able to light it and stand back, but the thing went off immediately; sounds about as safe as everything else here.

Speaking of which, there was rubbish burning right outside the window at CBR yesterday, and it smouldered all day long, the smoke billowing in through the OPEN windows.