Ah, Dashain; the biggest Nepali celebration of the year (this year being 2063 on the Nepali calendar). I’ve been told that this festival is primarily for Durga, who “killed many monsters,” and in veneration it is customary to sacrifice a goat, which we all did at two of the orphanages, and with enthusiasm that rivaled anything I’ve seen on Christmas morning at home. The last Dashain I spent in Nepal I was spared the main event, but this year I was fortunate enough to be involved in the entire process, from selecting, purchasing, and transporting the goat home (which required yet another ride on the luggage rack of a bus, complete with tree branches and power lines swatting at our faces), and I even helped with the marinade. The excitement leading up to the deed was very infectious, and despite the horror of it all in very little time I was completely sucked into the thrill and glee of the whole experience.
Dashain to Nepal is what Christmas is for America, it’s the longest holiday break with about two weeks off of school for the kids, everyone goes home to their families, shopping is a pain in the ass, and on the main day everybody has a party and eats too much together. Sure there’s no up close and personal animal slaughter on Christmas, but there is still a lot of meat consumed at the end of the day.
I supposed what baffled me the most (besides seeing a large animal having its head chopped off) was how ecstatic the kids were even though they had a full day and a half to get attached to the animal. They were feeding it and petting it, and then when its life was finally cut short in such a brutal way, they cheered like they were watching their baseball team win some sort of bloody championship or something. There was no sadness or pity whatsoever for the goat. In both instances young boys living at the orphanages were the ones who served as executioners, and they were so proud and excited to be the ones selected. The chosen assassin at our orphanage, Suman, is only 16. All the western rights of passage at that age; driver’s license, prom, seem completely feeble compared to the slaying of an animal that might very well out-weigh you.
I was prepared for all kinds of thrashing and spurting, but it was really quite fast and simple. I suppose if a beheading can be described as simple, anyway. So when the head actually cam off, in one clean swing I wasn’t quite as horrified as I thought I would be. But when there are 20 overjoyed small children surrounding you it’s easy to forget your hypocritical western morality (I’m referring to the fact that I can savor a hamburger with no remorse and yet can’t even kill an insect without a pang of guilt) and you begin to enjoy the moment and live it in the way that everyone else is. Not only did I watch the killing and skinning, I watched them gut the poor beast with such a savage and impressive speed that I couldn’t help but be in awe of the whole scene. And all of this was being performed by children ranging from 12 to 17 so it had a very surreal ‘lord of the flies’ feeling to it.
In the end, the trauma was quite brief compared to the awesome festivities that followed. There was so much food and dancing and sheer happiness that I couldn’t help but throw myself into it. I even ate fried blood (sorry, vegie. buddies) and though the taste was certainly lacking, it was quite worth the props I got for trying it; and I didn’t even get sick! Although, I did experience some of Kazumasa’s chronic fiery diarrhea, but that’s usually just due to the spices and chilies.
‘Clowns without borders’ came to perform this weekend and all the orphanages in the foundation planned a show to accompany them. It ended up, I felt, being better than the clown’s performance. But perhaps I feel that way simply because I was designated the ‘entertainment organizer’ and had to plan way more than I ever would have knowingly agreed to. And on top of it all, much to my dismay, I had to (big surprise) MC the whole show, a task which I completed with utter charm and ease, if I do say so myself, most likely due to my hellish ‘trial by fire’ training in
I will admit that the clown’s act was pretty impressive considering that they had hardly any props. One of them walked over me while juggling knives and that was pretty cool.
Our orphanage did the best dance, a traditional ‘Tamang Selo’ performed by 8 of our older boys and they nailed it. It was really complicated but nobody made any mistakes. I’m especially impressed since I practiced it with them so many times that I learned to do the dance myself, badly. I think that was one of the reasons I became so close to them so quickly, I suppose that sweating and falling all over the place, and generally making asses of yourselves together breeds a certain kind of trust and camaraderie (even though I might have been the only ass). They kept asking me to perform it with them in the show, and when you see the video you’ll know why I firmly refused. But, it was adorable when they performed it in their traditional Nepali outfits and even wore eyeliner!
The clowns ended up being quite risqué, hitting on me with a voracity that I had yet to experience up to that point. Offering to rub sunscreen on me and inviting me to come to their hotel. One of them was kind of cute, but I don’t date clowns (not professional ones anyway).
Mostly, I’m really glad that the show is over. It made me tense to have to organize so much and there was a lot of pressure because there were some non-profit big wigs and Nepali diplomats that attended (with armed guards and everything! We had to ask them to keep their rifles out of sight for the sake of all the kids there). It was an incredibly stressful experience, but in the end it was an over-all smashing success; ta-dah!
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