Full House

A lot of people have been asking me what it is like living with a Nepali family. I've been so lucky; my family are lovely, generous, and welcoming people. They are nothing like my real family. (Kidding! I have the best family in the world, you can wikipedia it).

Ama (mother), Milan, Siema, Suman, & Ba (father) celebrating Dashain

Here's the skinny on my Nepali family: Milan, the oldest son, is anywhere between 27 and 33 if I had to guess. I tried asking him how old he was once (on my birthday after he asked my age) and I was informed that in Nepal it is rude to ask a man his age. I apologized, but also thought this was funny for some reason, and tried to explain that in America it is the women who are most sensitive about revealing their age because they want to seem young or mysterious and therefore more attractive to men. Nobody thought this was funny. I played off my laughter as a cough and tried to recover. 

That was one of many instances where I realized my humor does not translate internationally. Another reminder was last week as we were going down a small path towards the infamous Mahendra cave. There was a giant sign about 7 feet high that read in enormous people-sized letters “WAY TO CAVE” with a massive sumo-wrestler sized arrow pointing along the path. I paused in front of it and said to Milan and our guide “so, which way do you think the cave is?” Instead of chuckling, they both pointed repeatedly down the path and assured me it was “Right this way! Right this way!”. I took the loss, nodded, and followed. Not only am I not funny in Nepal, but based off their reaction, they must think I am an idiot.

Milan

But I digress. Milan is the oldest son, and is currently working for the NGO on a number of projects, including acting as a liason for the BPW microfinance project I am undertaking. Milan regularly hosts trainees in his home to help develop his global network (and for added cash). He is an extremely idealistic and patriotic man with refined tastes. In addition to his job at the NGO, he is currently launching his own travel company and dreams of one day being a politician and gozhal writer, which is a kind of traditional Nepali song/poem.

Since Milan is the breadwinner for the house, he is in the most powerful familial position and enjoys special privileges such as being served first (after me!) and having his own room. It is clear that this is no longer his parents' house. Milan has the final say in all decisions and his opinions generally go unopposed. It probably goes without saying that Milan is also the most educated; he is the only one who can speak English. When he is not around, I do a lot of smiling, head nodding, and gesticulating - pretty much everything short of dropping it like its hot.

Father "Ba" (left) in our neighborhood square in Patan

Milan’s mother (I call her Ama, which is Nepali for mama), is a housewife and does all the cooking and cleaning. Milan's father, Ba, is a retired schoolteacher who has not worked since they immigrated from the village to Kathmandu city about 6 years ago. In Nepal, retirement is seen as a very honorable and sacred time for a man; it is a time for spirituality and self reflection. Conversely, tradition dictates that the mother does not “retire” her duties of managing the household until her eldest son marries, and his wife moves in to take over these responsibilities. For Ama's sake, I've taken to regularly humming the the Little Mermaid song "la-la-la-la-la-la don't be shy you've got to give it a try you've got to kiss ze girl!" in hopes that Milan will be subliminally overcome to take a wife. So don't say I'm not trying to help these women. 

Next there is the middle son, 20 year old Suman, who is still a student. Suman looks closer to 16 if I had to guess, and he’s so quiet and shy around me that I cannot recall as I write this, what his voice even sounds like. I suspect my subliminal humming frightens him.

Bathroom/ Laundry day

The youngest daughter is named Siema and she is 16 years old. Siema is in highschool and is a classic teenage girl: she’s sweet, both innocent and naughty, and extremely giggly. She loves to play with my hair and ask me questions that I can’t understand, and she stares at me openly and adoringly during mealtimes. Just outright stares. At first I found this flattering and would smile back, but she is so unrelenting that I actually get uncomfortable (it's how I imagine most celebrities feel... such is our lot). Even when I do look up and make eye contact she just goes on staring into my eyes without even blinking! After a few seconds of locked eye-gazing, I usually squirm and return focus to my plate. 

In terms of infrastructure, their “house” is actually a rented ground floor of a house that's been sectioned off into 3 apartments (one per floor). Our apartment has 5 rooms and a concrete hallway connecting them: a kitchen, a bathroom, and 3 bedrooms. The house itself is extremely basic by western standards, though in Nepal they are among the middle class. There is no heat, no A/C, no hot water (and very limited running water in general), no refrigerator, no oven, no stove (they use those camping stoves you can buy with the propane tanks), no tv, no couch, and no “toilet” – instead they have a hole in the ground of their bathroom, as pictured above.

My beautiful room

There is one bedroom for me, one bedroom for Milan, and one room with a giant bed and a bench. The last room is where the rest of the family sleeps, though this room also houses the computer (which leverages youtube to function like a tv), and during the day we treat this as the family room. At night, Ama (the mother), the father, and the 16 year old daughter Siema all share the bed, while 20 year old Suman sleeps curled up on the bench (this is not an exaggeration - it is actually a bench).

These arrangements make me feel horrible. I constantly get overcome with guilt and have to remind myself that not only is this the way they have always lived, but also that I am paying their entire rent by being here. Even if I insisted on sharing with Siema, they would never hear of it. You see, within the house there is a very clear and obvious pecking order, and as their guest I occupy the position of utmost honor, while Siema is at the bottom (It's a bit funny since my pigmentation and inability to communicate or stomach the drinking water makes me the Most Vulnerable Person... MVP!). This familial pecking order is at the crux of virtually everything we do, and would be obvious to anyone who spent a day or even a meal with us. It goes: me, Milan, father, Suman, Ama (mother), and Siema. 

Tihar Festival decorations in the "living room"/main bedroom

While I truly respect and care for my loving Nepali family, I hate that Ama and Siema will always be lowest on the totem pole despite everything they do for the family. I get a pit in my stomach just thinking about the way it all works against them, as women, from the moment they’re born. 

Nepal is always showing me how much I used to take for granted. For instance, I just love that in America, in our little melting pot of cultures and traditions, there’s no telling how we’ll each run our families: who will be served first, or whose opinion will be well-received. In the Swanson house, it depends entirely on who gets to the table first (though we'll occasionally do the ladies first thing when we have company), or whose point of view is most rational and well thought out. Without realizing it we’ve gravitated towards a kind of familial meritocracy mirroring the premise of our government: equal opportunity. You get as much respect as you earn. These constitutional values of individual freedom have trickled down into widely held personal values as well. This freedom, openness, and lack of determinism (both familial and otherwise) is something we scarcely acknowledge, but we should be so proud and grateful for it. It is so rare to be able to carve out your own place in the world, and this mentality begins at the family level, among our own parents and siblings. And this is a gift.

To quote Downton Abbey (yep, I went for it...), it is "very American" to embrace such lack of structure. What a crazy, beautiful, country we have, and how fortunate we are that we can live in such freedom and peace - and not even understand how lucky we are!

Happy Thanksgiving to all you lucky ducks back home!

PS - I spy with my little eye... Jagermeister.