The Nepali BUS system

Oh boy! Let me start by saying that this is the most intense experience Ive ever had. And everyone in the group agrees, so its not cause i’m a home-bodied pansy. 

The buses here are the same size as a minivan vehicle. Yeah, you know.. the cars that hold like 7 middle school girls in dirty soccer uniforms. 7 girls TOPS! Here in Nepal, these minivans pack in a LOT of people. Men, women, boys, girls, old hobbling seniors, chickens, 50 lb bags of rice.. pretty much anything. One time we counted over 30 people on this bus. No joke.
There’s two people who work each bus; the driver and a pubescent 13 year old boy who collects the money. This young boy rules the bus, forcing people to sit on other peoples laps,  banging on the side of the bus to indicate a stop or a go and is a rip off artist for foreigners. Like me. Theres always a different price for the same bus ride and somehow it continues to get more expensive every time. Theres also no way to argue with the kid. No matter what, he’s always seemingly really tough and not to be messed with. Okay but backing up to just straight up logistics.. How the Nepal Bus system works....

 These minivans each have their own destination city/town and you find out which one goes where by developing a special kind of hearing. The minivan sliding door remains open as the car cruises by and the money boy literally hangs out the side yelling the city name over and over. So when we’re in Kathmandu we listen for the boy yelling “satubattu”... however it sounds something more like “saubausaubausaubau.” And then there really no guarantee that the bus will fully stop, so you kind of just clammer on and sit where your told. Taking this bus alone as a white female is less than satisfactory as far as Nepali experiences go. I don't recommend it. I have a semi racy story of being covered in smelly men reeking of the local moonshine. The drunkest guy, who was conveniently placed in my lap, wanted to practice his english, though he only seemed to know one phrase. “I am drinking.” To which I replied “ramro” which means good/great/cool/nice/etc etc. Speaking in Nepali was a mistake however, because that gained even more attention from my new ‘drinking’ bus buddies. They then harassed me the entire 40 minute bus ride back to town.

Anyway! It all worked out in the end and the moral is to not ride the bus alone.

(This isn't half the amount of people who can fit the same space)

SUCCESS!

During my first week here a 17 year old girl came in to the clinic with her mom to be treated for headaches. The mom-child scenario always poses as a tricky situation, because we’re all in one room. What ALWAYS happens is the mom ends up answering all of her childs questions, yelling them across the room. Then everyone in the room knows about the kid, who resorts to sinking deep into her chair and not coming back for further treatment. And no, it doesn’t matter how quietly you make your interpreter talk, if you were thinking that. I’ve tried it. 

So the girl comes in, moms yelling from the other side of the room where Dr. Joey is trying to get HER intake and I just resort to scooting my chair back so we have a whole room collaboration going on. The girl has had migraines her whole life. They are temporal headaches and extend deep into her eyeballs. She describes her eye muscles feeling like they are straining deep inside.. Especially when shes reading. *DING* 

“Have you ever been to see an eye doctor?” I ask, trying to be as non-assumptive as possible. Some people have never seen a primary care doctor their whole life, which means its totally possible. “NO!” her mom yells. “Why would she?” The whole room of older ladies has erupted in discussion over the topic, like a farm of cackling hens. “Well, the headaches may be due to poor vision.” The mom is very skeptical, sizing me up with glaring eyes and insists that they don’t have enough money. So we settle on acupuncture for a few weeks to see if that will help first. Weeks had gone on like this, where I would insist that a trip to the eye doctor is probably the key to her childs pain. But Mrs. Skeptical says no, time and time again.

And then.... Yesterday I saw this beautifully cute girl peer into the treatment room with brand new shiny glasses on, shooting me a little coy smile. 

No more headaches. Success! (Now on to "gastritis")

Exercise, Monkeys, Woodwork, Food Torture and Gastritis

The monkeys finally showed up. We were wondering if we’d be the lucky camp that didnt have to deal with their bossy ways. No such luck. In the morning, when i head to the rooftop of the clinic for my daily exercises I now have to keep an extra eye out for the monkeys. Usually i have plenty of warning because a pack of dogs will be desperately barking at something and the sound of rocks being thrown by people will get closer. Even though im expecting it, im still startled by a figure jumping on the ledge in front of me. They kind of remind me of city raccoons because no matter how scary you may sound they dont even flinch. instead they sort of lean in a little closer, daring you to do something. For the first few days that was it, my morning workout was done. Now ive realized that they will do their thing and i can do mine. So imagine what the neighbors think, the white girl next door on the roof with her exercise band is weird enough. Nowadays its the crazy white girl doing stretchy band with a pack of monkeys. The monks who live next door and look down on our rooftop are thoroughly enjoying this morning ritual, i assure you. 

Another preferred form of exercise is going for a stroll around the neighborhoods. My favorite neighborhood is on this loop. It is a little glimpse of the Newari culture, which is the native people to nepal. With a cobble stone road paralleled on either side by ancient brickwork buildings, distinct woodwork shutters and doorways. The intricate woodwork is remarkable and so unique to this culture. I’ve never really seen anything like it. In front of every doorway are groups of women spinning wool, children playing games and men shuffling out cards. In these households the animals live on the first floor and family above. During the day everyone sits outside in the sun to get some warmth before the nighttime comes again. So as we walk through, we see families all hanging out alongside the cows, water buffalo, goats, chickens and ducks. I imagine that its like a snapshot into traditional times, before the larger cities made their lasting influence on the culture.

A few of our interpreters are Newari. They speak their own language though most speak nepali as well. We were invited to a gathering a few nights ago at Satyamohan house for a newari celebration. A coming of age type gathering, though the girl was 9 or 10. (most marry young here). In this experience, i learned about food torture. Food torture is when you are handed a plate and many women with different dishes come around over and over and over to deliver a big heap of more food for you to eat. I learned really quick how to say no to this, by holding my hand over my plate affirmatively. Though the women look at my build with a slight disgust in their eye and will plop another mound of food between my skinny fingers.  So, saying no doesn’t get you very far i guess. 

(this picture is from a wedding, not food torture night)

This leads me to gastritis. The infamous word of nepal. Lol. EVERY single intake with a patient in clinic has gastritis among the list of complaints. Hm.. wonder why. Maybe its because the plants grow in sewaged waters, or maybe its because there is no refrigeration here since we have rolling blackouts, or MAYBE its that the drinking water would make a science petri dish overflow with colorful flora and fauna. Gastritis is not really something we can treat effectively here since the root of the cause is inevitable. This week, our little friend gastritis came knocking on my door. I assure you, its not fun.