Chaupadi : Beautiful Laxmi & Old Customs

On the second night of our Rara Trek, we stopped in the village of Bulbule. It is the last village in Jumla before the Gurchi Pass into Mugu. You could call it fairly remote. The main village was a strip of only a handful of houses, two of which were guesthouses as this is the main entrance to Rara Lake National Park.  I was quite taken by the picturesque place and in particular our young host.

Laxmi is a young mother of two. She had an incredible air of serenity about her. I marvelled as I observed her at work, juggling handling two small children along with other village kids playing in her kitchen, running her guest house and cooking dinner for us and her family. Her husband was away in Jumla Bazaar for a few days and her brother in law and his wife were also not around that evening so she was managing everything alone. As she and Nisha talked, we found out that she was educated and in the evenings was teaching local village women to read. Along with all else she was managing! An extraordinary woman for sure. We spent a very pleasant evening in her company around the fire and enjoyed a nice meal before going to our room that was simple, but clean (by Jumla standards).

 

I was so taken with our new friend and her guesthouse that I wanted to stay with her again on our return from Rara Lake a few days later. We arrived in Bulbule fairly early in the afternoon having spent the morning coming back up over the pass. Although it made sense to carry on further as we still had a few hours of daylight, I had liked Bulbule and Laxmi so much, I wanted to stay there anyway. When we got to the village there was no one around so we waited a while and were about to give up and continue on to the next village when Laxmi appeared.

She looked pleased to see us, but quickly explained to Nisha that we could not stay with her that evening because she was menstruating and was sleeping in the cow shed. Her husband was still away and there was no one in the house - and because of her observance of the chaupadi custom, she could not even enter their home. She could not go into the kitchen, she could not prepare food - not even to feed her two small boys. She was really hungry as she hadn't eaten much, relying on other people in the village to give her food. We gave her a packet of biscuits, which is all we had. We even offered to cook dinner in her kitchen for her.  The boys were also sleeping in the cow shed with her as no one else was there. A local village woman helped her by getting blankets from inside the house for her and the boys to sleep in the 'shed' which didn't even have walls on three sides.

 

I tried to imagine how cold that 'shed' must be in the middle of winter. 

 

I was horrified even though I am familiar with the practice of chaupadi. It has come up a lot in discussion as it is still widely practised in Nepal, particularly in the mid- and far- West. It applies to childbirth as well as menstruation. However, it is observed in varying degrees depending on where you are, the families attitudes etc. Some families just make women sleep separately and don't allow them into the kitchen but they are not made to sleep outside. This can still mean horribly cold conditions in the winter where the only source of warmth is around the kitchen fire. Some places have an actual chaupadi hut specifically for women to go to, although that in no way means it is pleasant. There is an ongoing hot debate about this archaic practice and there are many organisations working towards changing attitudes, particularly in rural areas, but of course, like any dismantling of 'tradition', it can be a slow process.

We talked further with Laxmi, trying to understand why she adhered to this archaic custom, even though it turned out her husband did not condone it. She explained that it was pressure from people in the village, these were their practices and it was the way it was.  It just all seemed so ridiculous that she could not make money by taking our business and could not enter her own kitchen and cook dinner for her children. Here she was, this amazing, literate and educated woman and yet still so trapped in this societal structure where she couldn't stand up to the close-minded attitudes of her fellow villagers.  Of course, Nisha had a lot to say about this.  But it was clear that we could not persuade her to break from custom at this point. 

Laxmi and another woman from the village had to go out to the fields because, of course, she still had to do her work. We walked along with them, heading to the next village and Nisha continued her heated dialogue about how they needed to make the change themselves and stand up to the old attitudes if they were to ever move forward. They knew these things to be true, but at the same time, somehow didn't feel able to take that stand. 

As we walked on after we'd parted company with Laxmi, we talked about how to combat this issue. How to raise awareness and change attitudes in these remote mountain areas? Even in so-called modern Nepal, educated women from middle class families (in particular Brahmins who are the most religiously strict) observe more manageable modified customs - usually not being allowed in the kitchen, eating separately from the rest of the family, not able to go to temple or attend ceremonies and celebrations (like weddings).  For married women, not sleeping in the marital bed for 3-5 days, for daughters, not being able to 'touch' their fathers. If the young people of urban Nepal are still observing these rituals it is not surprising that in the rural areas, these beliefs are still in practice.

There are organisations working towards abolishing these practices. In the news just a few days ago there was an article about a group of women taking action. So that is a start, but for women like Laxmi, articles on the internet aren't going to keep her and her children warm at night in that shed.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chhaupadi
http://www.myrepublica.com/portal/index.php?action=news_details&news_id=54180
http://www.actionworksnepal.org/program/chaupadi-free-community-jumla

Trek to Rara Lake : Part 2 - in pictures

Day 1

I was particularly taken with these horns

looking back down the hill we'd just ascended - you can't see those mountains from Nisha's village

this is the path up

final stretch to barren Kali (3642 M/11,948 ft)

Day 2

if in doubt, just follow the donkeys

amazing Laxmi, running the guesthouse in Bulbule with two small kids (and neighbour's)

Day 3

Ghurchi Pass  (3446 M/11,305 ft)

mandir (temple) at Ghurchi - looking towards Mugu

I was going uphill, completely out of breath while he smoked his pipe carrying a heavy load

We were told there was a place to stay in a small village called Jhyari (although the conditions couldn't be vouched for),  but upon arrival, we were informed that it wasn't suitable for us and we should go '15 minutes' up the hill to a place on the road. An hour later, I was dragging myself up the hill at a snail's pace as light faded and the 'hotel' was still nowhere in sight. As I joked to Nisha that we were about to stumble across a 3 star hotel, we heard the sound of children singing. We approached what could generously be described as a hut with a shelter to find an old woman and two small boys around a fire. They had just taken most of their pots and pans down to their house down the road as they weren't planning on staying the night but upon hearing of our plight, the old woman, Jaumati Budha, sent the boys running down the hill to their house to fetch pots so she could make us dinner.

As she prepared our meal (they had already eaten), she told Nisha her story. The boys were her grandchildren, her daughter's sons. Their father had gone off to India and never returned. When their mother remarried (apparently to a man who had raped her), the sons were offloaded on to their grandmother who had taken them in and was raising them. She was an incredible lady, facing a very tough life in her golden years. Very inspiring and kind woman for we would have been stranded had she not taken us in.

Hajur-aama (grandmother) and the boys slept in the back part of the room while we slept on a rather unstable assembly of planks, with my legs dangling off at the calves. We slept surprisingly well, probably out of sheer relief. It was a wonderful refuge from the cold and quite a memorable night.

our bed - although there was a padded matt(ress)

Day 4

our "3 star" hotel in daylight

In the morning, we walked on up the hill eventually reaching Rara Lake - a stunning body of water surrounded by snow-capped mountains.

we made it! -  at Rara Lake

 

 

Day 5

 the 'airport' in Mugu

 Nisha plays carrom (on a very wonky board) while we wait for lunch

the road winds around the valley and loops back on the other side

 you can see the road across so rather than going all the way around, we went down and up the other side!

 children gather to stare at the bideshi (foreigner)

as we made our way through the village of Topla

Day 6

looking back, you can see the road - we went down and up

and where the road ends on the right, is the runway

 donkey jam - back down the hill as we head up the the Ghurchi pass

Day 7

 moon in the morning

 

our host making roti for breakfast

the snowy, muddy road had actually dried up a lot on the way back

 donkeys on the road to Kali

Kali pass - also much less muddy just 6 days later

We approached Kali just before 4pm and were thinking we would sleep in Patmara as although downhill, we still wouldn't make it back to Urthu-Chautara before dark (it had taken us 6 hours on day 1 in the other direction but it was uphill all the way 1100 M/3608 ft). When we arrived in Kali, it turned out the tractor of Nisha's neighbour was there having just delivered goods. I still wanted to walk as we were in the final stretch but was happy to give them my rucksack (relieving myself of the shooting pains in my shoulder). Since we knew that we could jump in the tractor when they eventually headed back, we set off, and continued on past Patmara.

As darkness fell, just as I was pulling out my headlamp, we heard the growl and rattle of the tractor and its trailer, shuddering down the hill. It was a pretty slow and incredibly jerky, bumpy ride,  but eventually we were driving through the village and pulling up outside home. It had been a great week, after the initial trauma of day 1, we had settled into a nice leisurely rhythm. But it was great to be home again too.

Trek to Rara Lake : Day 1

I’ve wanted to go to Rara ever since my first trip to Jumla. Finally, on this, my fifth visit, I made it there. And back. Just.

I had been nervously anticipating our journey, as I knew it would be physically challenging for me, even with the walks we had been taking almost every day in an attempt to get me prepared.  People mistakenly think I am fit and strong for some reason. Not the case. I’ve come to the conclusion that in the same way I’m naturally quite flexible, I’m also naturally unfit. To say I am out of shape wouldn’t be right as it would imply I’d been ‘in shape’ at some point.

Estimations for our journey times varied depending on how much people realised the level of unfitness they were dealing with. For locals, the journey from Jumla all the way to Gamgadhi (Mugu Bazaar) can be done in less than one day of serious walking. My mind boggles at this thought – that is crossing two mountain passes. It seems like locals don’t find the gradient to have much effect on them. I watched many people who overtook us along the way (in fact, everyone we encountered overtook us), keep a steady pace going uphill as though they were strolling down the promenade. And downhill, people pretty much skip down slippery slopes. Not me.

I have the ability to be slow in both directions. Going up is just exhausting. Steep climbs with the air thinning at every step (had to blame it a little on altitude). I had to frequently rest to catch my breath. And going down was probably just as slow. I have had weak ankles since I first sprained them years ago, so I’m always a little tentative - afraid of turning one. And now, my knees aren’t in great shape, so manoeuvring down precipitous, often gravelly and slippery inclines was treacherous for me.

Knowing that I hadn’t really trekked at all over these past few years I have spent in Nepal, Nisha had warned me that the first day was the hardest. The first part of the journey was to Patmara, a village I had walked to before a couple of years ago, supposedly an hour and a half from Urthu. I remembered this walk being exhausting the first time and was pleased to find it not quite as much of a struggle, although it still took us three hours. We soon learned that if we doubled any estimated times, we had a pretty accurate idea of how long it would take us to get somewhere.  From Patmara it was again an hour or so up (and I mean UP) to Kali. (3642 M/11,948 ft).

 This also took us three hours, but as we sat in Bali Budha’s tea house having a (late) lunch snack of dal with leftover sabji (vegetables), I comforted myself that we were now at the pass and it was only downhill from there.

Bali Budha - who I knew from the trainings

We set off down the hill after lunch facing a long road of thick, icy mud and slippery snow. There is a new ‘road’ that winds down the hill but it was a pretty hazardous squelchy journey that seemed never-ending. After a couple of hours as the afternoon light started to fade we encountered a group of lively women coming straight down the hill, intersecting the muddy road. After the usual ‘where are you going’ conversation, we discovered that the new road was the extra long route and the way was straight down crossing the road as it meandered down the hill.  They insisted that we walk with them even after our protestations that we (or I) were so slow that we would make them late. But they didn’t care and they chatted away with Nisha, leading the way down what was barely recongisable as a path, but clearly a much shorter route.  I embarrassingly fumbled along at the back, climbing over boulders and felled trees, trying to gracefully slide down the slopes as they were, of course, all laden with an array of bulky boxes stacked on top of sacks and baskets. They skipped ahead laughing together - I wondered if they were making kindly fun of the large, lumbering bideshi (foreigner) taking baby steps down the mountain.

our new friends

By now I was feeling more than a little weary. In fact, I was really suffering. We’d been going for 10 hours, I was getting shooting pains in my shoulder, and aches in my knees at every step, feeling weak and pathetic as I struggled my way down the hill. I thought to myself, ‘Maybe I’m just not cut out for trekking, this isn’t fun. And this is only day 1 – I have at least 6 more days of this!’.  We had been thinking we were nearly at Nauri Ghat, where we were planning to stay the night, so when they said we had another hour to go (at our speed), I nearly burst into tears.

But there was nothing to do but keep going – one foot in front of the next. The nearly full moon appeared over the ridge as we parted company with our new friends.  The short cut complete we continued downhill, the remainder of the journey significantly more manageable, although I was so wrecked by then Nisha even offered to take my rucksack and carry it along with hers too.  I refused, saying I’d carried it all day and she wasn’t going to take the credit for the last bit! When we finally saw the village up ahead, what relief! It was already past dusk and our guest house was adorned with fairy lights like some kind of magic haven. When we stepped into the kitchen and sat down, I could barely speak.  I attempted to struggle out of my rucksack, but my shoulder was so stiff, I couldn’t get my arm out with out assistance.  Upon inspection in the room, my opposing shoulder was completely swollen. As I sipped my beer and thought about how well I would sleep, I just hoped Nisha was right and the hardest day was behind me.