Home visits

Mid December, and it's still sunny and warm (10-15deg C) in the middle of the day, though it's definitely cooling off at night. Still, it's hard to believe Christmas is a week and half away. I'm heading out to do four home visits in the next four days. Everything you might need for 4 days in a small pack, with one change of clothes, a sleeping bag, wheelchair fixing tools and sterile wound dressings – just the usual stuff you take when hiking. I'm going with Laxmi, one of my co-workers, and we'll be taking local transport as far as it will take us, then walking the rest of the way. Tomorrow I think this means 4-5 hours on a bus to the nearest city, then another several hours in a smaller local bus, followed by a jeep. Usually the jeep suspension and the roads they are on are such that you're pleased to get out and walk by the time you reach where you're going. Then you have track down the patient – using what you know ahead of time, and asking along the way. I'm certainly glad Laxmi will be there to help me sort out all of this.

I went out a couple of weeks ago with Juna, also from the hospital, to another patients house. It was a similar story getting there, though it didn't take quite as long as tomorrow will. The patient is a blacksmith, who fell and broke his back when cutting bamboo (shown here with his daughter). I thought the whole time we were with him that he had falling from a bus (pronounced bahs here), but in fact he'd fallen from bamboo, which is pronounced bahs, but with a nasal sound on the ah. Learning a new language has all sorts of strange mix-ups. There are only a few contexts in which bamboo and bus could both make sense in a sentence, such that you don't realize something's wrong and notice sooner!

On the afternoon we arrived, we did our interviews, dressed his pressure sore, and checked out his wheelchair, and then allowed ourselves to be convinced to stay the night with the family. Their house was one room, about 10x20ft (Richard, who's here helping me estimate the distance compared to my living room, says that my room is 2x1.5 sheep trough lengths – perhaps not as helpful as measure to you at home...). Their hospitality was overwhelming, but typical of Nepalis. Juna and I got to share the one single bed, the patient on the other, and the mom and 3 kids on the floor. I got to see one of their roosters go from a protesting, impressively plumed bird, to a plucked chicken, to a very tasty dinner. Except for the execution of the bird, it all happened in front of us, around the fire in the floor that was their cooking stove as well. Mother cooked, the son plucked, and everyone chatted. It was entertaining, and warm, and really a lovely experience.

The next day, after our breakfast of tea and freshly popped popcorn, they pressed more gifts on us. Millet flour (which is very tasty), corn, and a knife and three sickles made by the patient. We protested, offered money (this was food that could feed the family, and things the patient could sell), but could not refuse the gifts. One of the sickles was actually made not by the patient, but by his 12 year old son (on left), his first sickle ever. So after a short conference, we decided to give money to the boy for his schooling, and in a sense to buy his first tool off of him. The look on his face told us we'd given him a lot more than money, and the parents had to accept that gift at least. They filled our pockets with popcorn, and the wife showed us the way down, as we decided to walk back to the bus, rather than be jolted along in the jeep again today. And, since it's orange season here, we kept getting offered fresh ones from villages as we went along – yummy!

I have finally posted the last few of my pictures and videos from my trek – If you were keen and went all the way through before, with the exception of a video from ABC that didn't upload before, the new stuff starts here, with photos and videos of Landruk's honey hunting festival. In the hills, traditionally, the only honey that was available came from cliff bees, who build their hives on overhung rocks on cliff faces. To get at these almost inaccessible hives, skilled men lower themselves down from above using rope ladders, smoke out the bees either from below, or by lowering a burning branch down from above, and then steal the hive and honey once the bees are gone. It's dangerous and exciting, and prestigious to be the ones who bring back the honey. We arrived just as the pre-hunt puja (blessing/worship) was going on, complete with musical instruments and a parade. Then we got to sit on the side of the river across from the cliff, with everyone from the community, to watch the whole thing. It was a real treat, as our porters told us they had never seen this before either, and we just happened to be there at the right time. That evening, there was honey to be eaten (delicious) and a celebration with dancing. It was neat because while there were a few other tourists there, it was really a community festival, for them, and not just put on for our benefit. The pictures and videos from the honey hunting start here.

My apologies for being out of touch. We're up to 45 hours of load shedding a week, and my computer battery's life is not what it used to be. I find my computer tasks add up, especially when my computer is my primary work, communication and entertainment device! Add to that being out of town lots on home visits and a couple of colds, and I'm way behind. But I do appreciate the blog comments and emails as them come in – thanks so much. I'm planning on being in Kathmandu for Christmas, to see friends (and have good internet and skype access!), but I'm not 100% sure. Have a very merry one, if I don't get to post another blog before then!