One Ping to Rule Them All

Deshain is in full swing, literally. The festival is the biggest of the year and lasts for fifteen days. My family, in respect to my host grandmother who passed away this past year, is not celebrating any of the holidays this year; but fortunately, I am sharing the holiday with neighbors, co-teachers, and other Fulbrighters. 

One of the staples of this holiday are the giant Pings (swings in English); that have been constructed in nearly every open field. These contraptions are made by the community solely from bamboo and rope and most tower to be at least two to three stories tall.  It is something that would never be allowed in America - from its creaky structure with no construction oversight, to no one over seeing it throughout the day and monitoring the children at play on it. But from my room I can hear laughter from people playing on it from when the sun comes out to late into the night. And hey, they’ve had many more hundreds of years to test and perfect this art than most of the medicines we put in our body.

And it is not just the children, adults of all ages throughout the day come for their turn.

Today also was the great goat sacrifice day. This morning, I walked up to the palace with my 32 year old cousin who lives in Kathmandu. On the way up, we passed hundreds of people returning from the palace after making their offerings on the hilltop. As we climbed higher and higher it became more and more packed, with a huge line leading into the palace. Around that back the tension from the goats, who by the screams of their fellows knew their end was near, was palpable in contrast to the jovial Nepali who were milling about them. Several hundred goats were tethered. I didn't care to stay too long there, but in the evening I did enjoy a great meal of rice, lentils, and some of the tastiest and freshest meat one could imagine.    

The postmaster's daughter in her festival clothing. 

The Ping right by my house.

 This is what holds the bamboo together.

Everyone from babies to grandparents have been taking their turns on the Pings.

Amaa (Nepali for mom) with her niece and younger sister watching the festival procession on the hill from our rooftop.

My rooftop / laundry room. To the back left of the photo is the tap I use, although it took me over a month to finally convince them that I knew how to do it myself. I kept trying to tell them that I learned how to while living in Botswana and even then, after I received a full lesson (which consisted of me watching my host sister Sajana washing my clothes) Amaa still keeps creeping up to watch to make sure I am doing it right. When I last went to Kathmandu, she snuck into my room and washed a few shirts. They are so nice!

A goat's last march. On the way up to the palace to be sacrificed.

 Just part of the Himals I can see from the Palace.

 Some of the several thousand people who were at the old palace in the morning.

 This is a photo I took from my porch, these goats were being taken to the start of the over 1,500 steps to the palace.

Rachel's family drying out some of their meat.

Rachel's Amaa preparing the goat for dinner.

As the sun set, we sipped on some of the home brew, appreciated the view and then began to enjoy our meal.

Story time with the family.