Dashain festival

Dashain (pronounced Dah-sigh) is the largest festival in the Nepali year. It is a 15 day celebration of the victory of the goddess Durga over the forces of evil. Before the celebration begins, Hindu homes are ceremonially cleansed, and new clothing is given and received for the holiday festivities. Everyone who can will try to go back home for this holiday, which means the city felt rather empty, as many folk headed back to the villages they had grown up in.

My first Dashain experience was coming back from doing patient home visits out in the countryside. I was taking a local bus home, and on the roof were 20 goats, being shipped to town for the Dashain sacrifices and feasting. For much of the trip, I had my arm out the window, to give myself more air and space on the cramped bus. When I first felt the water on my arm I thought it was raining. But then I saw that it wasn't raining at all, and remembered the goats...I decided to go with the window mostly closed for the rest of the journey.

We had nearly a week off of work, which as great. I went with Sita and some friends to dinner in Lakeside, and then crashed at her house that night. In the morning, a friend of hers came by with some freshly killed goat. Any Hindu family that can afford it kills a goat or a buffalo for Dashain, and then shares the meat with family and friends. We cooked ourselves up a yummy feast of curried meat and rice, which I thoroughly enjoyed despite the fact it was 11am. Reflecting back on it though, I realized I had probably for the first time in my life, actually had a application for Paul's instructions about Christians being allowed to eat meat that may have been sacrificed to idols, provided you don't know for sure it is (1 Corinthians 10:27-28). I never thought those rules might be something I'd need to think about!

The next day a group of us went up the Sarangkot hill to see the wonderful mountain views. Sita wanted to go, and there were enough of us to make it possible. Matt and Liz, a great couple from NZ came too, as well as Sita's 'adopted' Japanese father and some Nepali friends. Sita was able to take a taxi nearly to the top, where we settled in for the night (fortunately arriving just before the rain). We had a fun evening of cross-cultural conversation, Sita adeptly translating between English, Nepali and Japanese as needed. A highlight was the dancing and singing from different cultures – Matt even doing a Mauri Haka and he and Liz singing a Mauri song. I've never wished before that we had a distinctive Canadian dance, but it would have been nice then.

The next morning we got up before sunrise, and headed up the last bit to the top. It took 3 of us to wheel Sita up the rocky track. She stopped at a great viewpoint just before the stairs started, and some of us went the rest of the way up. Unfortunately it was a bit cloudy that morning (naturally the day before and after were clear), but we still could see the mountains, and it made for some really interesting patterns of light.

On the way down, we stopped to play on the ping – the impromptu swings set up all over the place. They're made of bamboo poles lashed together, and seem decidedly rickety, but were great fun to swing on. The one we were on was smaller than some of the others we saw, like one the kids are playing on in the picture on the right. Sita's Nepali friends all were so excited to play on the swing, it clearly brought back childhood memories of festivals in their village.

Matt, Liz and I hiked down from Sarangot, and ended up in Lakeside for a yummy brunch. This was Thursday, the main day of Dashain, and everyone was out and about in beautiful saris and new clothes. We went home, and for the afternoon, the house across the road was blaring hindi and western dance music – it sounded like they were having a great time.

The Monday after was Canadian Thanksgiving. I almost lost track of it, because of everything else going on, and the fact that not even the other ex-pats even knew it was happening. I hadn't really expected it to be hard, and then that evening I was more homesick than I've been yet in Nepal. Talking to my family was one of those double edged swords – made me feel better and worse at the same time. I suspect my homesickness was compounded by everything else that's been going on – the suicide at work, and also finding out that some good ex-pat friends are not coming back in November as planned. Liz was lovely - when she heard I'd been homesick, she had a pumpkin pie made for me, and even gave me a gift. ("Do you give gifts at thanksgiving?" she asked).

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