Dreamless

       For over a month now, I have not remembered a single dream. At most, I may have a vague hunch about the topic presented subconsciously while I slept, but that’s it. Perhaps, to you, this might not sound strange, but for me, dreams are just as much a part of my reality as, well, reality is. They are how I process and make sense of the world. I thought dreams would guide me through this experience, just like the brought me here. But lately, they just seem to slip through my finger-tips, and it leaves me feeling a little lost. 

       Just now, I lit a candle to help me ponder why, this month in particular, I can’t remember my dreams. I have a little clay bowl next to my candle, in which I put my used match sticks in. Well, the pyro in me couldn’t resist setting a lit match into the pile of tiny sticks to make my own miniature camp fire. I was very excited about this, until it I realized it was getting a little too big for comfort. It was getting slightly out of control, making sparks and cracking noises, so in a mild panic I quickly blew it out. As the flames disappeared and smoke arose from the ashes, so did insight about my dream quandary. I’ve had too many matches going at once.

       Since starting work, I have enthusiastically said yes to every opportunity to help. I am currently a Researcher, Fundraiser, English Teacher, Event Planner, Social Activist, Nurse, Social Anthropologist, Fly on the Wall, Proposal Writer, Student, Consultant, Baby Sitter, and of course, Activities Coordinator. On top of all that, I am walking the tight rope of slightly confusing, sometimes lonely, cross cultural living. While I absolutely love my work and my colleagues, everything is escalating so quickly and I am starting to feel a bit tired. No longer have I been able to reflect on a single candle flame, instead, I am too focused on how to keep my pile of burning matches under control. My subconscious brain can’t get through to me under such pressure and distraction. 

       So I think what my subconscious needs, is for me to shorten my “to do” list, and especially shorten my stress-inducing “should do” list. I need to blow out a few matches in order be rejuvenated by the fire, instead of stressed out by it. This advent season, I want to wake up in the morning with enough clarity and ease, to let whatever the Divine and my subconscious came up with over night, to sink in and guide me through my days once again.

Fuzzy Purple Crocodile

    
       It has been just over two months since I arrived in Nepal. I laugh at how far I’ve come since my first few days and I am proud of my small accomplishments. I am no longer afraid to cross the street, I’ve taken all forms of transportation successfully, I know a bit of Nepali, I've made friends with my Nepali community, I feel comfortable in my house and neighborhood, I can eat a ridiculous amount of rice without feeling pain, and I have even gained some good weight and strength! And just as I was starting to become proud of the fact that I’d never caught a stomach bug.... WHAM! A microscopic, god-forsaken bug of pure evil knocked me down to what felt like square one. 

       I experienced hours of violent vomiting and diarrhea. My kidneys screamed in pain for water. Sweating, chills, and moaning. Eventually, I could no longer get out of bed without blacking out and just hurled over the side into a bucket. My host family was obviously very concerned and fixed me up some Oral Rehydration Solution (ORS). I was SO thirsty, but as soon as I swallowed anything, it immediately brought on another bout of vomiting. I felt like Dumbledore in the sixth book, when he had to drink the cursed solution out of the basin of Voldermort’s cave in order to reach the horcrux. I knew I had to drink, because I was getting badly dehydrated, but the vomiting after the fact was horrible.

      I felt do defeated. Here I was in rapid decline, and there was nothing I could do to stop it! Not even my stubbornness could will me to get better.  I was a delirious, semi-hallucinating, barely conscious blob of misery. My brain was so whacked that I no longer understood any Nepali being spoken to me. And I could forget trying to speak any Nepali other than the word “waak waak” (which means vomit).  

       Eventually, after semi-hallucinating a fuzzy purple crocodile standing next to my closest, we decided that I needed to go to the hospital. That was easier said than done. I would walk about five steps before my vision would go black, and my body felt like it was covered in hot nettles. Nausea would hit me like a truck and I’d crumble. The journey from my bed to the ER is all a blur now. I recall a taxi, Pooja holding me, multiple doctors slapping and bending my wrists to get an IV in, and then sweet sweet relief. 

       It felt so great to have some energy back, and most of all, to have gone an hour or two without feeling like my insides were crawling out of me (although my back still hurt pretty badly). I’m not sure how many hours I was in the ER but eventually I felt up to going back home to rest. But after attempting to walk about thirty feet I was hunched over on a chair once again with horrible vertigo and nausea. My legs trembled as I tried to walk to the taxi. Well, the doctor assisting my departure didn’t like how this was going and suggested I stay the night to recover and get my strength back. And that’s how I got admitted. 

       I stayed two nights in the hospital. I was diagnosed with parasites, a bacterial infection, and dehydration. Now this hospital, while adequate, was definitely not up to the standards of cleanliness and safe practice that I learned in nursing school. But I was so weak and exhausted that whenever I woke up to a nurse hooking something up to my IV, I just rolled back to sleep assuming whatever it was was good for me. Luckily, I had Luke and Leah (my MCC reps) watching out for me, and my parents were informed of every medication going into me, even from across the world (God bless technology). 

       I felt so far from home and missed my family, but I was never alone in the hospital. Either my reps, Gita or Asha (other MCC Nepali staff) or a member of my host family were always by my side. They rubbed my back, handed me puke buckets, brought me food and drink, and were always praying for me in their respective religions. Luke and Leah, bless them, took turns sleeping on the tiny bench next to my bed over night. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my community here in Nepal. I was completely helpless and vulnerable but completely taken care of. 

       So now I am back in my Nepali home regaining those small accomplishments I had made earlier. Yes, I lost all of the weight I had gained, but today I could finish all my dinner! Just three days ago my legs quaked and heart pounded trying to climb the stairs to my room, but today I walked to a coffee shop successfully! A week ago, moaning was my only language, but today Kopila, our maid, and I accomplished a conversation in Nepali about the plan for the day. 

       It is my prayer that I may see the regression of my health and mental abilities not as defeat, but as an opportunity to feel the victory of the little accomplishments once again.

Through the Children

       It is Dashain here in Nepal. Basically the equivalent of American Christmas, with all the hype, celebration, family, and food. There are SO many fascinating customs that I am not used to and generally don’t understand. I spend most of my time observing from the side, in awe of this new culture I am living in. Only being one month into SALT, I am still somewhat of an outsider, looking in. But it is through the children, with their tiny hands, that I am being guided into their world.
I sat on the steps this afternoon, watching the neighbor boys playing cricket in the street, when my host sister, Surajya, and her friend, Uzmaa, approached me with an assortment of toys. Surajya stood in front of me and said, “All the kids got tika today. Everyone gets tika! You did not get tika, so we give you tika and do puja.” (Tika is the red color Hindu people put on their forehead as a blessing.) Through make-believe, the two of them started to reenact the puja (worship) ceremony I watched this morning. I received invisible tika from an empty paint tray, lace fabric from Surajya's bedroom around my neck, and an assortment of balls in my hands to represent gifts of money and food. Lastly, the grand finale was them circling imaginary flame and incense in front of me while they loudly imitated the sounds of bells and the shell trumpet.
I was deeply touched by this gesture. These four year olds were my teachers. They taught me, without judgement, where to put my hands, what each action was called, and scolded me when I would let a giggle slip. These two girls saw me not as an outsider, but as someone who, to them, was “left out.” At that moment, I was not this strange, pale, American, Christian; I was just “Laura Didi” who did not get her tika. 

Tornadoes and Car Parts

         Last night I had a dream that I was caught in a tornado. It was quite a thrill to be flying around in the air, and fascinating to be hundreds of feet above the ground. But it was also scary and dangerous. I needed to find protection, a shield to protect me from the raging wind and shrapnel. Eventually, I saw the front part of a car flying past me in the tornado, so I grabbed on and hid behind it's strong frame. I was safe.
        I see this dream as a reflection of this past week in my orientation to Kathmandu. I am constantly in a whirlwind of new and fascinating. Hindu bells chiming at dawn and dusk. Banging on the roof of a tempo when you want to get off. Greeting others with "Namaste." Eating hot dal bhat with my bare hands. People. Colors. Ways of dressing. Simply crossing a street is all new!
        While as beautiful as this colorful whirlwind has been, I am also starting to realize it's challenges. Not knowing the language makes everything so much more difficult, and is such a barrier to building relationships. Beyond just the language differences, it is the daily cultural interactions that are so easy to mess up. Like accepting food with my left hand instead of my right. Or handing the cashier a ridiculous assortment of rupees because the different colors, sizes, and Nepali numbers makes me frazzled. Or awkward silence. Am I doing something wrong/culturally weird? Are Nepali people just quiet at a moment like this? Are we both just muted by our inability to freely speak our first language?
        So amidst this crazy, awesome, scary tornado of SALT in Nepal; what will be my shield? What do I have in Kathmandu to protect me through the storm? Even as I write this post, there are cracks of monsoon thunder and strikes of lightening. But the sweet smell of rain wafting through my window reminds me that the Divine is in this storm. God brought me here. And God will be that strong frame I can hide behind. A protection that is always within me!
       

About my SALT position

Synopsis:    

      This position is based at the KOSHISH Transit Home for women recovering from mental illness. The activities coordinator will plan and lead recreational activities for residents, join staff and residents in carrying out the home’s daily schedule, and assist with reporting, proposal writing, and researching the barriers facing women with mental illness in Nepali society.

Assignment Narrative:

      KOSHISH is a leading mental health organization in Nepal. It is active in advocacy as well as in rescue, treatment and rehabilitation of women living with mental illnesses. The KOSHISH Transit Home provides a safe place for women experiencing mental illness to stay during their initial treatment and recovery period. Residents usually stay for several months, often with their young children. The Activities Coordinator will work closely with the Transit Home supervisor and staff team to promote recovery from mental illness and enhance the quality of life of Transit Home residents. The Activities Coordinator will also provide support to KOSHISH for English documentation and communication.

Duties:

1. Planning and leading daily recreational activity sessions for 10-15 women (this may include music, art, crafts, gardening, games, or other based on interest and skills).
2. Assisting staff and residents with following the home’s daily schedule of activities and chores.
3. Assisting KOSHISH with preparing English language reports and proposals and coaching staff on improving English language professional writing.
4. Conducting research on the barriers and challenges facing women living with mental illness in Nepal.

Location Description:

      Kathmandu is a bustling city that enjoys a range of temperatures throughout the year, from cold winters to hot summers. The city enjoys good health facilities for routine health care. Bangkok or Delhi have good facilities for major health concerns. There are a number of Christian churches in Kathmandu, as well as the opportunity of small group involvement for Christian fellowship. Transportation by taxi is readily available and cars can be hired for longer trips. There is also an extensive bus system throughout the country, as well as numerous local and international flights from Kathmandu each week.  Nepal is full of opportunities for outdoor enthusiasts, from trekking in the Himalayas to rafting in glacier-fed rivers.

Challenges:

       Water and electricity are sometimes rationed when supply is low. Pollution levels are often high in the city. The risk of petty and personal property crime is similar to that of other large cities. Nepal has faced much political instability in recent years, and Kathmandu sees its share of political rallies, boycotts that temporarily shut down parts of the city, and occasional acts of violence. During these times, it may be necessary to avoid travel and work from home.

The Dream

        I decided to title my blog “Alignment” based off of an influential dream I had a few months ago. I had this dream way before SALT was even on my radar, and I was struggling with the choices I had to make for my future.
In this dream, I was going on a night hike with my family. To the right of our path was a expansive still lake with the Himalayas shooting up in the distance behind it. This lake was only about a foot deep and scattered along the shore were dozens of Indian men wading in the water, facing the mountains. According to the locals, this lake was the lake of wisdom and that was what these men were searching for. I felt this overwhelming call to go into the lake. I veered off the path against my fellow hikers’ warnings and prostrated myself in the shallow water. I was overwhelmed with the power of this lake. I looked up to the mountains and saw the clouds form a giant circle around the full moon. The stars in the sky aligned themselves with the moon, and the majestic voice of wisdom said to me, “everything will align itself in time.”
This phrase, “everything will align itself in time” has been very influential in my life since then. It has gotten me through very difficult transitions and the epic unknown. This phrase brought me to SALT, and almost like divine fulfillment of this dream, has literally brought me to the base of the Himalayas in Nepal. This experience has made me so keenly aware of the presence of the Divine in my life and that, yes, everything does align itself in time! I am feeling so grateful and excited for this next portion of my life in Kathmandu, Nepal!