No Forks. All Fingers.

The rain is falling in thick sheets outside my window. It’s not your average Washington drizzle or Idaho summer thunderstorm. I’m talking about fatty droplets hurtling down from the heavens; turning the earth to mud beneath your feet and soaking you so entirely that you might as well have just jumped into a swimming pool with all of your cloths on. This is a true monsoon style down pour. Candles cast their soft glow over the entire household (electricity, I’ve found, is quite unreliable here). The children’s voices echo down the stone stairwell as they sing their nightly Hindu prayer. I love nights like these.

I just finished my dinner. Dhal Bhat. I’ve finally started eating in true Nepali fashion. No Forks. All Fingers. It is great. At first it was a bit odd to go against years of western etiquette. I kept on hearing my dad’s voice saying, “You’re not a monkey. Don’t eat with your hands.” And here I was digging into this sloppy rice and lentil dish and loving every minute of it. It is a lot harder than you might think. Initially, I have to admit that I got more rice on my shirt than I did in my mouth. But now, after weeks of practice, I’m all pro.

Yet another week has flown by. My Ama Ghar creative writing class is proving to be incredibly entertaining. The kids, all of whom have never written a story before, were a bit hesitant at first. I explained to them the process of writing fiction and then gave them their first topic; they are to write a story where they are the protagonist (or antagonist if they so desired). “But there is a twist,” I paused dramatically, “You have super powers.” The minute I said this, their eyes lit up. Suddenly the idea of writing became much more enticing. “Oh, Auntie I am going to fly! I’m going to have hair colored pink and purple and green. I am going to be the bad guy…no no the good guy…no no the bad guy. ” I’ll make sure to keep an update on their progress as they move through the stages of writing until they produce a final product. It will be very fun to see what these kids come up with now that they are allowed to use some creativity and imagination.

In other news, I’ve become the younger children’s life size Barbi. At first it was just the girls who braided my hair and dressed me up in colorful saris, but now the little boys also want to take part in braiding Auntie Adelaide’s hair. When they are finished, they parade me around the house, showing everyone my sari and hairstyle (which usually ends up being something like 5 different braids sticking off of my head in various angles and widths).

Although Nepal has been filled with many unexpected, often brutal challenges, it has also filled with so many rewards; first of which has been getting to know the 38 Ama Ghar children. The trip into Kathmandu always tears me down. But upon returning home, all of my anguish over the tragedies that I have beheld vanishes. I walk through the gates and am greeted with shouts of welcome as a group of kids come running towards me, ready to throw their little arms around my waist and tell me about their school days. The little ones gave me their love and affection from the minute I walked through the door a month ago. The older kids were a bit more reserved. Slowly, I have been able to break the ice with them. Now when I get up in the morning, I am showered with hugs and affection from all of the children, both young and old. And as I sit here, curled up on my bed, writing in the flickering candle light, I can't help but feel that I have unexpectedly found yet another family, yet another home. This time not in Idaho, not in Italia, not in Bellingham, but in a rural town on the outskirts of Kathmandu, Nepal. I never thought that I would be so lucky.