Sustenance Part II (8 February 2010)

Before I attempt a description of my food situation, I need to back up and say a few more words about my living arrangements.  I was driven out here along with some Pahar Trust reps by Chandra in his SUV, scraping and crawling our way up the boulder strewn road.  I was then passed off to Mem, the principal of Samibanjang Secondary School, where I now teach.  Mem speaks understandable English and plans my schedule of appearances, writing me speeches in Nepali that I must memorize and deliver to large crowds, teaching me dances and songs for performance purposes, stopping by at 7:30am just to see if I’d like to meet a few more of the neighbors or attend a wedding.   It was Mem who arranged for my accommodation with Buwa and Meng, an older couple with a spare room, vacated by a son working in Malaysia.  Meng and Buwa constantly serve me tea and periodically snacks, but I eat my two main daily meals of dhaal bat at a neighboring family’s home.  For breakfast I tend to eat alone, but for dinner I am usually joined by an assortment of fascinating characters, usually including but by no means limited to a 91 year old former British Soldier who was shot in the mouth during WWII and enjoys yelling “I’m British Army!” then making you touch his wound, a round twenty-something woman who always wants me to take her picture and possibly wants me to marry her, and a shy, frighteningly beautiful ten year old girl who is a student in one of my classes.

Dhaal Bat is Nepal’s de facto national dish, consisting of a varying combination of rice, a soupy bean mix, and a vegetable or meat curry.  It can tend toward blandness if prepared poorly, but in the majority of cases it ranges from good to epic (to borrow a word from Clive), featuring complex, nuanced flavors which also deliver that rare, healthy, vital experience where you can actually feel the food replenishing your body’s resources.   The average citizen of Nepal eats dhal bat twice a day so these days that means I do too.
 
On an average day, after morning tea with Meng and Buwa, I stroll up to Oja’s (Grandpa’s) and Oji’s (Grandma’s) house for breakfast dhaal bat.  The preparation of the morning version has a pleasant simplicity to it, with flavors ranging from puckeringly salty to brightly organic.  From time to time the breakfast rice is cooked with sugar, creating a sweeter version which is tasty but which I would not select as my first choice.  The meal is accompanied by tea or hot buffalo milk and although I’m occasionally offered alcohol, I have a feeling it would be shocking to everyone involved if I accepted.  In the early afternoon on school days a mid-day snack, usually a small, hot bowl of beans and chopped potatoes mixed with a rice-crispy of some sort, is served in a shack near school where I sit amongst the other teachers, on and around the proprietor’s bed.  Finally, just as the stars begin to come out, Oji brings her A-game for the dinner dhal bat.   The play of flavors between the curries, vegetables and occasional meats are an absolute joy.  With this feast, in addition to the standard hot buffalo milk, I’m also served raksi, a clear, homemade millet liquor that tastes like some combination of sake and beer.  I always accept seconds on raksi and always hope they offer thirds, but I also try to be careful to save some for The Veteran.  Somehow this routine, unvaried as it is, has yet to become tiresome and I still find myself looking forward to each meal with curiosity and excitement.