"Jatra"

My first weekend back from a big week in Australia, I was really looking forward to a few days packed with ex-patness. What better way than to start Friday afternoon with round of karaoke at the place next toe Mike's Breakfast, you say? Well yes. The plan was to follow that up with a nice brunch on Saturday at somewhere outrageously expensive, hit the Hash, and then kick on the to the Scottish night of dancing that Becci politely invited me along to.

Remembering that I was determined to get a little bit more involved with my work colleagues, who had so far been immune to my approaches for a Friday afternoon drink, I invited Nhukesh - the one most likely to say yes - along to karaoke. Unsure what he had signed himself up for, he was appropriately nervous. I think its safe to say that he had a whale of a time. He might not have been an expect at most of the English songs we were singing, but he was the most unbelievable backup dancer we could have ever hoped for.

As happens with most activities in Nepal with less than 24 hours notice on that Friday night, Nhukesh asked me if I could go to his house on Saturday to see his village's festival. The celebrations were scheduled from about 2pm - midnight. Horribly aware of the clash this proposed not only to my addiction to Hash, but the massively anticipated Scottish dancing night (with the guarantee of a nip of whiskey at the door) I found myself in a little dilemma. While in Australia, I confessed my concerns that I wasn't really getting into the culture all that much, with the exception of Bhai Tika day. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I needed exercise more than a nip of whiskey and I piked on poor Becci and my other Scottish friends (who I am sure had a marvelous time without me destroying everything in my path on the dance floor).

I went to the Hash (which was out the arse end of nowhere) and then called Nhukesh (pretty exhausted) to find out where I had to go for this festival. He came to pick me up from Jawalakhel and took me to the Municipality of Kiritipur (about 10km away) where his village of Nagoun is located. He took me on a tour of the village and then to his parents' house where we sat down to eat a very special Newari meal.

Said meal consisted of:
- something that resembled pig fat that was white and jelly textured, I was assured that it was boiled buffalo meat (called Tarkha), specifically prepared for the evening. It tasted pretty much like what you would expect when you see something that resembles pig fat with the texture of white jelly flopping around on your plate
- a red coloured version of the above - "careful Rob-ji, this one is spicy" - and spicy it was - let me assure you
- beaten rice (this was my saviour) - pretty much a found of chiplike chunks of rice
- curried soy beans (another saviour)
- curried pickles - there was nothing particularly alarming about these - except that Nhukesh said - I don't think your stomach will handle that - its very hard to enjoy a particular food item if you are already having images of lonely hours on the family dunny

I was able to wash it all down with 3 different concoctions:
- rice beer (Thoa [in Newari] or Jaad [in Nepali])
- rice wine (Rakshi - good old Rakshi - imagine the heaviest wine you have ever drunk - now double it - that's about half as strong as this stuff)
- red rice beer (Yhamu-Thoa - stronger than the Rakshi this had a hint of that red flavour [you know, like the thing that makes strawberry ice cream taste like strawberry ice cream even though we all know its not strawberries, or red cordial - that kind of thing])

I listened in on the conversations but unfortunately I couldn't follow any of it, and was extremely frustrated for about 10 minutes, wondering why on earth I had spent any money at all on Nepali lessons. It was about that point that Nhukesh pointed out that they were speaking Newari - their ethnic dialect.

From there we went out on the town to see the villagers massing outside a house. Soon enough, their brought out an idol of the god Bal Kumari (Kumari is the word for a female virgin apparently). They loaded the little guy up in a shoulder mounted chariot, and we were led by 4 trumpets, 4 drums too many sets of cymbals and the chariot down the main street towards the temple on the other side of town that was to be Bal Kumari's home for the night. People came out of their homes to give offerings, one lady even had what looked to be a bottle of cough syrup on her offering plate. In her defence, it has been getting really cold, and Bal is going to have to hang out in a temple exposed to the elements all night. The journey was only about 200m, but with many drunk men and all the women and children with their offerings - it was slow going. Nhukesh and his friend Sunil cranked up the dancing again and there are a few photos of me getting into it as well.

At a few point I thought that some people were objecting to the movement of the chariot, because they kept pushing the guys carrying it backwards. After questioning Nhukesh on the point however it turns out that they were all just playing. Is very special to get a chance to carry the chariot, so many people jostle and push each other for fun, and if you happen to fall over or let go of the chariot, then someone will take over your place. You have to be tough!!!!

I'm not sure why we moved Bal Kumari, but it was a hell of a ride.

[photos to come - when Nhukesh remembers to bring his camera to work]

Indonesian Guest Post - Andrea

Andrea is sweating it out in Jakarta, Indonesia and is finding the girl on girl touching about as frustrating as I am the man on man.

Well it is almost 2 months since I arrived in Jakarta and it has been the biggest best experience of my life so far. Jakarta is a city with a population of approximately 10 million people with another few million commuting from outside the city to work every day. It has no centre, sprawls for k's and k's with the poorest slums built around the base of amazing sky scrapers. It is never quiet here and the city is in your face all day and night. The traffic jams are horrendous with 5 km trips frequently taking 3 hours. I would walk everywhere if it wasn't for the pollution, the heat as well as the condition of the footpaths, which are covered in food stalls, beggars and motorbikes (at least these things are on the parts of the footpaths that are not gaping unmarked holes with 10 ft drops into untreated sewage.) The people are fantastic and stare at you until you smile then they crack the biggest grins I've ever seen. My work is with the Department of Education on a World Bank program that aims to bring up the standards of teachers in Indonesia so that by 2016 every teacher in Indonesia (there are 2.7 million of them) has a University qualification of at least 4 years in length. I am writing training for staff who will go onto training the teachers. The poverty here is crazy. 21 women died in a stampede in East Java on Monday, they were all trying to get a ramadhan gift from a rich man which was the equivalent of $3.30 each and there was this big rush to get to the front and the women who died were mostly elderly, widowed and really week from the 2 weeks of fasting which was just the most horrific thing. I've heard about similar occurences many times before but never in the country where I am living. The worst thing about tragedies like that is that there is so much money in Jakarta, and Indonesia has an abundance of valuable resources like oil, gas, coal etc however the money and the power is controlled by the tiniest percent of the population and the resources abused by the big companies that already have heaps of money. If Indonesia had a good 30 year plan they could easily be a middle-economy by then but a lot of the people in power are just far too interested in filling their own pockets. The rainy season has just started so I have had to buy candles for my apartment, extra water and prepare for calling in flooded to work which will be a novelty the first time but irritating not long after. The fasting month is upon us which is great for me as the work day is 8-3 but tough for everyone else. No food, water, cigarettes or sex from dawn to dusk which has resulted in some occasionally irritable and often very tired colleagues (sleeping more at their desk than they do in any normal month.) One of my favourite sites was walking through a food court just before the fast broke and seeing all the shop assistants bracing themselves for the onslaught of parched and hungry people who appeared in a matter of seconds. I thought it was strange to hear that a lot of people apparently put on weight during the fasting month as they don't eat all day then eat at least 2 meals before bed and get up at 3.30am to eat again before the fasting begins for the next day. I'm looking forwards to the next 10 months and am sure I will see something every day that will make me think "What the ???"