This is how it's done. You have to stoop low from the hips and puts your weight into your thighs it becomes a fairly comfortable stance but after awhile, a few hours, you don't know if you'll be able to stand up straight again.
Of all my experiences in Nepal one of the most delightful memories I have, and it is still palpable (as if it was only yesterday), is standing in the amber light of late afternoon on the concrete slab by the well head as I vigorously pumped the well handle and these women and men took turns ducking under the heavy flow of water to wash off the mud.
They laughed like school children. I took a turn and sat under the strong stream of water while others pumped the pump and I scrubbed the mud from my legs and arms and both the women and men flocked around me attending to me, helping me.
When my colleagues from the conference came up from their meeting in the village, Renu, Tara and Laljahri ran to the well and joined the women and I, laughing and splashing water. Renu explained to the village women in Hindi who I was and why I was there and laughed with the women as they described my clumsiness planting rice, described all the mistakes I made, how slow I was, and how my poor white skin was too tender for Nepal. It was dreamy. The conference men, with the exception of Anil, stood at a distance watching. They were smiling but looked disconnected and out of place.
This is how it's done. You have to stoop low from the hips and puts your weight into your thighs it becomes a fairly comfortable stance but after awhile, a few hours, you don't know if you'll be able to stand up straight again.
Of all my experiences in Nepal one of the most delightful memories I have, and it is still palpable (as if it was only yesterday), is standing in the amber light of late afternoon on the concrete slab by the well head as I vigorously pumped the well handle and these women and men took turns ducking under the heavy flow of water to wash off the mud.
They laughed like school children. I took a turn and sat under the strong stream of water while others pumped the pump and I scrubbed the mud from my legs and arms and both the women and men flocked around me attending to me, helping me.
When my colleagues from the conference came up from their meeting in the village, Renu, Tara and Laljahri ran to the well and joined the women and I, laughing and splashing water. Renu explained to the village women in Hindi who I was and why I was there and laughed with the women as they described my clumsiness planting rice, described all the mistakes I made, how slow I was, and how my poor white skin was too tender for Nepal. It was dreamy. The conference men, with the exception of Anil, stood at a distance watching. They were smiling but looked disconnected and out of place.
No comments:
Post a Comment