Night Life (20 February 2010)

While sitting on a bed amongst neighbors, in a dark room by the light of a cooking fire, as I drink raksi from a stainless steel cup, my Meng is trying to force me to take a government mandated medicine for lymphatic illness, causing the ten Nepalis surrounding us to laugh uncontrollably in a language I don’t understand.   I laugh along.  This is my life these days. 

The man who brought me to this house sits next to me.  He tells me that he knows I’m lying, that I could take one of them to America if I wanted to.  I’m starting to dislike this guy, but I just laugh and explain that he has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.   Later he shows me a video of his hometown on a mobile phone, the shaky image panning back and forth over seven taps at the local well, apparently the pride of his village.  He has shown it to me before.  He wants me to go there with him.  I have no intention of doing so.

Meng is laughing and is now miming drunkenness, playing her half-ironic role as the proponent of temperance.  The round woman who wants me to marry her is asking me to dance.  “You first.” I tell her.  She counter-offers, with help, saying she’ll dance if I sing.  I start clapping a rhythm and belt out the first verse of “Bye Bye Love” in a below average but adequate singing voice, but she can’t dance unless the song is in Nepali so I try the one song I have heard over and over again.  “Ressum peedeedee, ressum peedeedee…” is the only part I know and after I get past that I hope other people will fill in, but they don’t so I fall into “dum, da da dum dum, da dadda dum dum…” and everyone is in stitches again.  I’m having a pretty good time.

I get up and bang my head on the low ceiling and everyone is worried when they should be making jokes.  I’m going back to my room although I’m far from drunk and far from tired.  I want to get out of here before the vibe gets weird, before the prick sitting next to me asks me another stupid question or I find myself swinging the focus of my utter lack of comprehension around the room, trying hopelessly to grasp some shred of the conversation.  In another town, with a different crowd, I’d ride this thing a few more hours, but the rule here, tested and confirmed, is to quit while the moment is good, and it’s definitely good right now.