Introducing Sahana Rayamajhi

Have I been in Arghakhanchi for a week? A month? A year? I can't say I agree with 60 minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day right now. Everything feels both augmented and compressed. With the endless amount of time I have to sit and think, I've come up with three reasons why I might feel this way:

(1) I'm giving myself short-term memory loss with the number of times I've hit my head. I'm above average height in America but have never felt particularly tall—here in Nepal, I feel like a giantess. I'm guaranteed to knock my head every time I enter a new house, and I'm averaging about three hits a day in my own room. Since I haven't learned to stoop yet in the month I've been at site, I'm not sure I'll ever learn. 

(2) I've suffered a complete loss of autonomy and feel like I'm right back in childhood. I am escorted everywhere I go, either by my host sister or her young sons. I appreciate their attentiveness and know it's only for my comfort and safety until I become more familiar with the area and can better navigate situations using Nepali, but it's still the hardest part of this process for me so far. I've also been paraded from house to house to meet various community members, and the conversation very quickly progresses past my comprehension level. I often just sit there while the grow-ups chat around me, every so often hearing my name or getting a glance in my direction. Am I 23 or 10 years old? Sometimes I'm not sure. 

(I was warned that I'd consume excessive amounts of tea during these meetings, but I wasn't prepared for the amount of papaya that would be offered to me! I know I shouldn't complain about eating fresh, local produce, but papaya has always tasted like dirty diapers to me, and I don't relish having to choke down a few pieces at every house.)

(3) Lastly, and most plausibly, is that I'm driving myself crazy from all the boneless days. This lack of routine is entirely my fault, and it's something I'm committed to improving in May. The general outline of my day revolves around meals and is the always the same: wake up at 6:30, breakfast/snack at 8:00, lunch at 10:30, tea at 2:00, evening snack at 4:00, dinner at 8:00, and then retire to my room at 9:00. It's the hours in-between that are interminable. I've also realized the harsh sunlight offends my vampiric tendencies from noon to five o'clock each day! I need a routine to distract myself. 

My room. I'm really digging the storage space

Bathroom set-up. I'm using muscles I've never used before

Like previous posts, there's a loose theme for this one: my first month at site, told in fragments and short impressions. Some days, ten new things happen. Some days, I sit and read and watch the clouds move over the hills. 

These first months at site are all about observation and integration, and I think I'm making good progress on both fronts. Here, I go by Sahana Rayamajhi—the first name given to me by my first host family, the surname from my current host family. I was taken to mothers' group and agricultural co-op meetings, where I introduced myself; the attendees seemed to understand my Nepali, which I'm taking as a small victory. Nepali is coming slowly, as I orient myself to a different accent and dialect. 

My host brother is an English teacher, which has been helpful for understanding what is going on around me and feeling understood, but it's probably stunting my Nepali. The other members of the family include: my host sister, 35 years old; their two sons, aged 8 and 10; and the newest members, six chickens! Most of my time is spent shadowing my host sister as she visits family and neighbors, and works in the kitchen garden in front of our house. 

Rainy day at site 

I arrived at site on a Wednesday, and my first big cultural celebration was Chaite Dashian on that Saturday. It's a Hindu holiday celebrated with animal sacrifices for the goddess Durga—a sort of a complement to the most major Nepali festival, Dashian, which takes place six months later in September. It's also the last holiday before the Nepali New Year (which, to my suprise, my community didn't celebrate; regardless, Happy 2082!). 

On Chaite Dashian, my host sister and I hiked to the Supa Deurali Temple in Narpani (I'll write about the legend behind the temple, along with the history of Arghakhanchi, in my next post). It was super crowded with pilgrims and their goats; the goat heads left at the temple as offerings, the bodies taken down the road to a picnic area to be eaten. My hosts' extended family graciously invited me to their picnic and, like all Nepali celebrations, we ate and danced for an uncomfortably long time.

I reciprocated the cultural exchange by celebrating Easter with my host family. I didn't touch on any of the Christian aspects of Easter, and instead, like a pagan, described it as a sort of spring festival. It was my first time using natural dyes on eggs and it turned out halfway decent. We used mulberries for a purple-black color, mulberry leaves for yellow, and hibiscus petals for pink. My host sister enjoyed the process, and I've recruited her to help experiment with more colors next year. I tried to explain the egg hunt tradition, but I wasn't able to get that across. Instead, we just ate the eggs for our afternoon snack: a syncretism of American tradition and Nepali resourcefulness. 

We celebrated Mother's Day with my host sister's mother and sisters-in-law at her maitighar—a married woman's parental home. In Nepal, after marriage, women traditionally move into their husband's family home, joining his parents, paternal grandparents, brothers, and any unmarried sisters. Although my host's sister's maitighar isn't far from our house in terms of distance, getting there required a combination of walking, a bus ride, and a taxi. Much like Mother's Day in the U.S., we brought over a cake and some scarves as gifts and gathered to celebrate motherhood. There'll be a second round at my house, as I'll make sure to celebrate my host sister on May 11th too.   

Supa Deurali Temple on Chaite Dashain

The environment in Arghakhanchi is wildly different from anywhere I've previously lived. The forests here are a mix of Shorea robusta (sal), Pinus roxburghii (Indian pine), and Rhododendron arboreum (rhododendron). My young host brothers and I often make trips into the forest (we've seen monkeys many times) to collect golden Himalayan raspberry, tiju, and kaphal fruits. The boys are like mountain goats; no cliff is too steep for them to scramble up and down. I know I wasn't that daring at their age. 

The weather is bipolar, oscillating between apocalyptic storms straight out of the Book of Revelation and days that hit 80 degrees before noon. The veranda above my room was destroyed one night during my first week at site by non-stop rain and strong winds. It's since been repaired, but that ordeal was a lesson in Nepali time management. I'm getting a preview of what's to come during monsoon season; March to early June is the hot season, while mid-June to early September is the rainy season. 

The diversity of fruit trees here is incredible. I've seen jackfruit, mango, lychee, papaya, pomegranate, and banana trees, all within a five minute walk from my house. Slowly, I've been helping more and more with agricultural work: first harvesting potatoes, then weeding the onion fields (I saw lamb's quarters and wood sorrel most frequently. We ate the lamb's quarters with rice for dinner (Nepali: bethe ko saag)), and, most recently, planting ginger and turmeric. 

The best days, the ones when I feel most productive and most at home, are those I get to work communally with my family and our neighbors in the fields. 

Local school and hills near my house

Planting ginger and turmeric. Piles of manure (Nepali: gobar mal) pictured here

Kaphal tree w/red berries

Chickens!

That's all for now. It was hard to pare down all the anecdotes swirling around in my head, but I hope this gives you a snapshot of my life at the moment. I'm looking forward to more adventures in Arghakhanchi!

Here I Yam! @ my host sister's maternal house

God[s] is in the Details

Just as there is no single American experience, there is no single Nepali experience. The diversity of ethnicities, languages, and cultural practices in Nepal cannot be overstated. Today, I'm zooming in on the Newar people, indigenous to the Kathmandu Valley and its surrounding areas, and their architecture. Newars are known for their craftsmanship and artistry; spend any time in the Valley, and you'll see why. 

I recently spent five days in Kathmandu (culminating in our swearing-in ceremony), which prompted me to think about the architectural motifs I'd seen again and again during PST. How has the history of the Newars influenced their artistic choices, and what is the cultural and religious significance of these motifs? I've also considered how Newar identity has shaped and been shaped by Nepali identity. Although I don't have all (or even close to all) the answers, I'll share some of my thoughts below.   

Simply put: for millennia, the Newar people have been at the center of all the action. The Newars were traders along trans-Himalayan routes, connecting Tibet to India. Newar civilization flourished under the Malla Dynasty (1201 to 1779), which governed modern-day Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Patan as independent city-states (each city has a durbar square, i.e., royal square, that is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site). The Mallas were great patrons of art and architecture, and each city-state vied to be the most elaborately and lavishly ornamented. For example, I read an apocryphal story that recounted how the sculptor of Bhairab and Ugrachandi in Bhaktapur's Durbar Square had his hands cut off to prevent him from duplicating his work in other cities. 

The Malla Dynasty came to an end when the Kathmandu Valley was unified under Prithvi Narayan Shah, and subsequently, the modern nation state of Nepal was founded. I'm not sure whether this was unification or conquest, but in the annals of history, these often amount to the same thing. The Kathmandu Valley has remained the political and cultural heart of Nepal. The Newar identity, as far as I can tell, has remained distinct from the larger Nepali identity, yet is undoubtedly a part of it, much in the same way Andalusian culture has become synonymous with Spanish identity on the world stage, or Bavarian culture with German identity.

I have identified several features of Newar architecture that I find fascinating. The article Newar Architecture was very helpful in putting names to the features I was seeing and filling in some of the history I was missing. Let's dive in!   

Pagoda Style Temples, Multi-Tiered

You'll need endless hours to fully inspect all the architectural elements of any one temple; I often sat and admired the Indreshwor Temple in Panauti, identifying new elements every time—from the carved wooden doors, roof struts, and archway known as the torana, to the bells and clappers that rang in the wind. Despite having multiple tiers, the ground floor is typically the only accessible space for worshippers. Newar architecture emphasizes symmetry and proportion, and, as such, these pagoda-style temples have square foundations.  

Each temple is named after a specific god or goddess. I am usually unfamiliar with the names, as they vary between Nepali, Sanskrit, and Newari, so I look for certain elements to identify which god the temple is devoted to. Each god has a "vehicle" on which they travel, and which represents certain attributes of that god and is often placed outside the temple, facing the main entrance. Shiva is accompanied by Nandin (a bull), Vishnu by Garuda (a winged bird-like creature), and Ganesh by Mushaka (a mouse). The representation of the god, usually a statue, sometimes abstract, is located inside the temple. For Shiva, this representation is the easily recognizable lingam.  

I've most commonly seen temples in the pagoda style in the Kathmandu Valley, though there are other designs, such as the shikara style, which originated in Northern India and came to Nepal hundreds of years ago. Like pagodas, shikara temples are ornately decorated, stretch vertically into the sky, and are only accessible at ground level. Together, these temples form a striking arrangement in Bhaktapur Durbar Square. 

Indreshwor Temple, Panauti

Nyatapola Temple, Bhaktapur (tallest temple in Nepal)

Bhairab Temple, Bhaktapur

Kathmandu Durbar Square

Annapurna Temple, Asana, Kathmandu

                     

Temple in Shikara style, Bhaktapur

Stupas

Stupas are dome-shaped or mound structures resting on square pedestals that contain Buddhist relics (see my earlier post on Namobuddha). The design of stupas encourages clockwise circumambulation from devotees. The Swayambhunath Stupa in Kathmandu also features a cube on top of the dome, painted with the eyes of Budda on each side (a symbol of omniscience) and the Nepali number 1 (which I originally thought was a nose but is actually a symbol of unity and oneness). The Ashok Stupa in Thamel, named after Ashoka the Great who promoted Buddhism in India, is a small wonder—it's the only brick stupa I've seen. 

Swayambhunath, Kathmandu

Ashok Stupa, Thamel, Kathmandu

Namobuddha Stupa

Hiti (Nepali: Dhunge Dhara) 

Hitis are intricately carved stone taps that predominantly date back to the Malla Dynasty, although some in Bhakatpur date to the Licchavi Dynasty. The mythical creature carved into the tap is known as makara or hitimanga, a mishmash of aquatic and terrestrial features such as an elephant trunk, fisheye, and crocodile snout. Hitimanga is venerated in both Hinduism and Buddhism and is the vehicle of the river goddess Ganga (the personification of the Ganges River). 

The oldest hitis were built over natural springs, but newer hitis were supplied via a complex system of canals and ponds that brought water from surrounding hills to the Kathmandu Valley. Water collected from hitis is used for drinking, bathing, and ritual purposes. The introduction of modern water management systems post-1951, rapid urbanization that disrupted connections, and earthquake damage have rendered many hitis across the Kathmandu Valley non-functional. Despite this, I found many hiti in Panauti to be in working condition—albeit modernized with tanks and pipes. 

Bhakatapur Durbar Square

Panauti

Brick and Timber

Traditional Newar houses are constructed from locally available brick, mud mortar, and wood. As with temples, Newar architecture is all about symmetry and proportion, and, accordingly, these houses are built on a rectangular foundation with windows and ornamentation mirrored around the facade's central axis. Each Newar house is built around an inner courtyard that functions as a communal space and is accessible through low entryways (I am guaranteed to hit my head every time I enter). Facades, especially the windows facing main roads, are elaborately decorated with intricate wood carvings. The ground floor functions as storage, livestock housing, or small shops—a blurring of public and private space—with the family's living quarters starting on the first floor. 

The simple design of Newar houses belies the true genius of this style: resilience to earthquake damage, combining both tensile and inflexible building materials. What's more, the square courtyards act as braces, distributing lateral force more evenly to prevent collapse. Of course, these buildings are still susceptible to high-magnitude earthquakes, such as the absolutely devastating one in April 2015. But since there are more than 50 earthquakes of various magnitudes in the Kathmandu Valley each year, Newar housing is certainly impressive for its hardiness.  

Dhulikhel

Dhulikhel

55 Window Palace, Bhaktapur Dubar Square

Kumari Ghar, Kathmandu Durbar Square

Community Spaces: Courtyards, Ponds, & Phalchas (Nepali: Pati)

Newar society is a communal one, and this is reflected in traditional Newar urban planning. I've written a bit about courtyards and ponds above. These features serve dual purposes, both functional and sociological. As I've described, courtyards are intrinsic to earthquake-resilient architecture, but they also encourage gathering, serving as semi-private spaces that bring together families and neighbors from adjacent housing. 

Ponds were part of a complex water management system in the Kathmandu Valley, but they are also very public spaces, bringing together residents from a broader area, possibly from across the city and particularly during festivals. Ponds often incorporate other elements of Newar architecture; take, for example, Bhajya Pukhu in Bhaktapur, which contains a temple in the Shikara style at its center. 

Another community space I observed was the phalcha (alt. spelling: falcha)—a slightly raised, covered platform, bricked in on one side. Phalcha provide shaded spots for resting and gathering. I frequently saw elderly people chatting (Nepali: gaph garnu) and dogs sleeping on the phalcha of Panauti. 

Courtyard, Panauti

Bhajya Pukhu, Bhaktapur

Phalcha, Panauti

Overall Exquisite Craftmanship

The Kathmandu Valley and its surrounding area is just filled with architectural marvels. I included this section to highlight some wonders I found especially intriguing, and which don't fit exactly into the sections above. 

Torana, Thamel, Kathmandu

Bhagwati Shrine, Thamel, Kathmandu

Private residence doorway, Panauti

Vishnu Statue, Tulanarayan Temple, Panauti

Kaal Bhairav, Kathmandu Durbar Square

Shiva-Parvati Temple, Kathmandu Durbar Square

I hope this was somewhat informative. Newar architecture is just one of many styles in Nepal, and I look forward to updating the blog as I explore more of the mid-hills and, hopefully, the Terai and the lower Himalayan Range. 

Here I Yam! in Bhaktapur Durbar Square

It's a Wrap...on PST!!!

If you're reading this, then I've successfully completed PST and have officially sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV)! I am now at my permanent site in the Arghakhanchi District, restarting the settling-in process. Just when I start to feel like I'm in my element, it's time to pack up and leave. This happened in college, during my year in Germany, and now with my first host family. Oh well, if I didn't enjoy the discomfort, I wouldn't keep putting myself in challenging situations. 

Much like my previous blog post, this one doesn't have a cohesive theme. Instead, I'll share some of my musings and experiences from the last few weeks.  

I celebrated Holi with my PCT cohort on March 13th. Holi is the Hindu spring festival. Though different Hindu sects have various legends associated with Holi, all seem to embrace anarchic celebration. We threw colored powder and water balloons at each other, and kids sprayed us with water guns as we walked into town. This is a side of Hinduism I find fascinating: alongside ritualistic devotion and strictly enforced hierarchies, there are Gods who can laugh and play with their worshippers. E.M. Forester wrote repeatedly about Hinduism's "inclusion of merriment"—I only mention Forester here to encourage everyone to read A Passage to India, such a nuanced narrative of colonial conflict. Holi was a blast, and I look forward to celebrating it twice more while I'm in Nepal! 

Celebrating Holi with PCVs Alyssa, Shay, (Me), and Charles (L to R)

During the last weekends of PST, I tried to visit as many religious landmarks around Panauti as possible. I intend to return to Panauti and visit my first host family at some point during my service, but even the most rock-solid plans are ultimately fragile in Nepal, and I can't say for sure if I'll ever be back. So, I wanted to see all there was to see with the time I had left.  

Devithan Vista: Banepa in middleground, Himalayas in background

Unless you're in the lowland Terai (which I transited through on my way to Arghakhanchi; the visit was so brief that all I can tell you is that there were many bicycles on the roads and that it was unbearably hot), walking from point A to point B will require some combination of uphill and downhill and, most likely, uphill again, along winding and dusty roads. So, although a 45-minute walk is quite short for a hike, it felt like I was summiting Everest when I climbed to the top of Devithan Hill to the Sikauri Gaun Temple, where, fortunately, the payoff was great views of the Himalayas on one side and the town of Panauti on the other. The climb up Gorkhanath Hill just north of Panauti to a Ganesh statue was even more humbling; it was only about a 20-minute walk, but I found myself stopping every few feet to catch my breath. This training over the 9 weeks of PST prepared me for my final test on the last Saturday I was in Panauti: a two-and-a-half-hour walk, one-way, to Ladkeshwor Mahadev—a 108 ft Trishul, Shiva's trident with various symbolisms, and an important site for Hindus. I, along with two fellow volunteers, was transported through diverse landscapes: past a silk farm, suspension bridge, and hydropower project in the old Newari town of Khopasi, and through verdant terraced fields and homestays in the Chhetri town of Balthali. The walk became a pilgrimage, clearing my head and encouraging engagement with the world around me. I am so glad I decided to make the trip, as it was a powerful send-off to the beauty of the natural environment around Panauti.   

Sikauri Gaun Temple atop Devithan Hill

PST staff arranged a host family celebration for our last day in Panauti, complete with songs and dances from each sector, speeches from three fellow volunteers, and even an appearance by Dean Thompson, the U.S. Ambassador to Nepal. We dressed in Gurung costumes for our dance and sang a Nepali song entitled Sim sime paani. While I don't enjoy being a show pony, I know the performances were greatly appreciated by my host mom and our neighbor who attended the ceremony. The next day, trucks came to collect our luggage, and the time had come to say goodbye to our families. Both my host mom and host sister cried, and my host dad asked that I not forget him. I'm shy and awkward around goodbyes but not a crier; I thought maybe I should ham it up a bit and shed a few tears to show how much I'll miss them but ultimately decided against giving that performance. I cannot describe my first host family's kindness and generosity; I truly felt that I had become a family member after 9 weeks together. All the best to the K.C. Family!!!  

Alyssa and I wearing Gurung dress

Ladkeshwor Mahadev

We said goodbye, and then I was off to Kathmandu for 5 days of hot showers, Western toilets, and non-daal bhaat meals. Kathmandu was a whirlwind, and as I anticipate returning a few more times for trainings, I won't write too much about my experience there and will instead save it for a longer post in the future. I will say that I thoroughly explored the Thamel neighborhood and visited two more UNESCO World Heritage Sites: Swayambhunath Temple and Kathmandu Durbar Square (stay tuned for an upcoming post on Newari architecture). The highlight of the week was our swearing-in ceremony, marking the official transition from trainee to volunteer, held in front of our permanent site supervisors and counterparts. Swearing-in felt just like a high school graduation. We made it to the end of our time together, and now we must face the world head-on and alone. I left Kathmandu, boarded a plane to Siddharthanagar (a half-hour flight during which I sweated through my clothes 5 times over—I'm not a good flier!), took a bus up to Sandhikharka, and just like that, I made it to Arghakhanchi. These days I'm feeling a mix of hopefulness, anxiety, boredom, and eagerness. So, stay tuned for a future post about my first days at site. Thanks for coming along on this journey! 

The women of food security and environment in our swearing-in attire

Here I Yam! playing badminton on my last day of PST