Many of the people we have met in Kathmandu have invited us to their homes to stay. We had been invited to spend the latest Dashain holiday with many families, however at that time the boys and I had been keen to see a bit of the country, so instead had headed to the Terrai for our previously mentioned adventures.
Having now returned to Kathmandu, the invites have begun again.
The security guard of our hotel had asked us many times and the other day brought me a hand written sentence requesting us to visit on Thursday, his day off. We agreed to go.
Kathmandu doesn't have slums as in India, however they do have poor areas. He and his family live in a poor area.
They wanted to cook lunch for us. We were under no illusions as to what that meant, dhal bhat.
Whilst dhal bhat was part of the menu; they had also added mushrooms, greens and chicken. Meat is only ever added on the most auspicious occasions. This was a very special meal and we were their very honoured guests. There was no doubt they had spent some of their savings on this meal.
I was given the best parts of the chicken, that our hosts fingered through the bowl and chose for me, then I was anxiously offered the only utensil they had, a teaspoon with which to eat. The boys and I had eaten enough local meals here now to know how it should be done. I plunged my right hand into my dahl bhat and squelched it through my fingers.
The family laughed and instantly the ice was broken. Everybody else was then served and so the feast began.
Now as we all know when you go to somebody else's house you are generally on your best behaviour, right? Don't get me wrong, we were. However, I had seen the meal prepared and did struggle a bit with now consuming it. The chicken was fresh. It had been killed only half an hour before, beside the dusty road, and then left to sit on the floor.
So it could have been completely psychological, but that food no sooner hit the bottom of my stomach and wanted to come right back out.
As we sat chatting after the meal, beads of perspiration began forming on my brow. I excused my self and used their bathroom.
I have had an upset stomach in Asia before and knew this wasn't going to be fun. Despite our host's pleas of wanting us to stay the night, I explained that the time had come for us to return to our hotel. They insisted they accompany us home. This was a good thing as I had no idea where we were.
As we boarded the micro, so aptly named as that's how much space you have once you are on the bus, my stomach went into overdrive. I politely asked how long it would take for us to get home. 10 minutes. A slight underestimation, I asked again, 30 more minutes. WHAT???!! As bullets of sweat now ran down my face, our host asked if I was ok. I apologised, but explained that I needed to get off the bus, NOW.
Frantically we asked for a bathroom, there was none. Only bushes at the side of the road, the stench were the only directions I needed. My boys were horrified. I was desperate!
My next stop was a public bathroom. Once the corrugated iron door shut, it was pitch black. Surprisingly hot for the cool outside temperature. I was terrified if I moved I'd fall down the hole. Not fun.
Due to our host being an ex-policeman, I was given special permission to use a lock up bathroom at a local police station. His wife and my boys were not allowed inside. Trust me; you NEVER want to go to jail!! My eyes were stinging it was that bad. I'm sure the retinas of my eyes are burnt and my throat is still sore. However, some drunks did cheer when I emerged still in tact. I gave them a half hearted triumphant air punch.
Final stop before home was a building site. The women on the site moved the wooden sheeting that had kept it private, so they could chat with me. They wanted to make sure I was o.k. By that stage all dignity had disappeared. I chatted back and thanked them for their concern.
As I said, it may have been completely psychological, because once home, having had a hot shower, I felt fine. The boys on the other hand, were mortified.
x Lisa (slightly embarrassed Mum)
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| Preparing lunch |
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| Eating lunch with the family |
Lisa, what a terrible experience. You could make a movie on what you had to go through, NOT. We have been there,done that. A busload of wedding guests travelling for seven hours on the return trip home. Luckily the bus had been chartered so we could stop at random. Like you, those of us who needed to 'go' didn't care who we were squatting next to, male or female. I can see the funny side of your situation. Chin up,love 2 u all, nana and koro.
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