Yesterday, through a friend of a friend of a friend of my advisor, I made arrangements to go visit a local village to fill my quota for rural interviews- I was a little heavy on the urban-progressive perspective- where love-marriage and high-heels are the norm. The man I went with is part of the the indigenous Lepcha community- the equivalent of the Native Americans in the US (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lepcha_people.) He said he had connections with a few fellow Lepcha men in a local village who were willing to show me around their village and help my interview some of the women.
The translator picked me up in his car (first time riding in a car in 3 months!) and we drove over the mountain ridge that blocked the view of Mount Kangchenjunga from Gangtok (you could only see the tip of it from the city- the rest was hidden by the face of the closest mountain.) Driving over the mountain range, I was able to catch a glimpse of more of Kangchenjunga -the 3rd highest in the world!. At 8586 meters tall, it’s only 262 meters shorter than Mt. Everest (at 8,848 meters.) I must have been acting really in awe because he offered to pull the car over so I could take a few photos (or take a few “snaps” as they say it here.)
A half hour later, winding along the sides of mountain covered in huge pre-historic looking ferns, we stopped at a colorfully-pained home on the side of the road. Out in front was a small organic vegetable stand selling interesting-looking vegetables, potatoes, garlic, and “poppers”-this ridiculously hot pepper that just happens to sneak its way into most dishes here- and you only realize it until you’ve swallowed it- then all hell breaks loose.
We were greeted by two men, whom my translator had met through organizing a Lepcha Fashion Show in Gangtok a few weeks ago. It was a public fashion show that showcased traditional Lepcha clothing, dances, and music as a way to spread awareness about the Lepcha community and it’s culture to the public. the Lepcha are one of the most “backwards” and marginalized communities in Sikkim. There’s only around 30,000 of them left in the world- and their culture is disintegrating as a result of inter-caste marriages and migrations into the cities.
Anywho, these two men were the founders of an NGO that is working to preserve their Lepcha culture. They’ve started a museum to preserve Lepcha artifacts- and are in the process of getting a grant from the government to make the museum more public-friendly....because from what I saw, it’s currently a rented room in an isolated house with 3 small safes filled with artifacts (ranging from bamboo combs, rhinoceros hide-shields, stringed instruments that looked like a combination of a violin and tennis racket. These men have other initiatives within the village to promote a more environmentally sustainable community like setting up public dustbins throughout the village so people don’t have to throw their trash on the ground. They’ve also managed to ban the selling and consumption of TOBACCO in the village and have made the consumption of alcohol illegal during funerals. They really are admirable people and I really look forward to seeing what becomes of their NGO in the future.
After the museum tour, they gave me a tour of the village- a small place with only 24 households- and brought me into people’s homes so I could see how the Lepcha constructed their houses. Traditional Lepcha homes don’t have a SINGLE nail in them. It’s a combination of woven bamboo, clay molding, and entire tree trunks locked into one another. They’ve been withstanding for over 500 years- and all remained intact after a devastating 6.9 magnitude earthquake that struck Sikkim in September 2011. Other contemporary village houses crumbled- but the Lepcha houses stood strong.
After a few informative interviews with some housewives.... (I could go into this more, but I fear I’m turning into one of those people who is SUPER interested in a topic that other people aren’t especially fascinated with- yet won’t stop talking about it. I’ve found myself saying things like “Welllll...in rural Rajasthani villages, women blah blah blah independence....blergh patriarchy....”) so, I’ll spare the details and tell you about more important things....like...duck eggs! Which is what I was served for lunch- straight from the ducks hanging around outside the house- along with “pickle”- which I’ve realized is just an overarching term for a vinegary-vegetable soaked in POPPERS- (aka:super spicy.) For some reason, I keep disregarding my previous spicy-pickle experiences and always try them- expecting something different and perhaps not so spicy, but...nope. My hopes continue to fail me and I continue to look like the foreign girl with the delicate palate that can’t handle the local’s food.
Actually, I take that previous statement back- I’ve been very opening to eating whatever is served to me without questioning what it’s made of. Like when the men asked me if I wanted to try “millet beer”- the local brew of the Lepcha. I agreed, and a few minutes later they brought me out this monster...(see photo below.)
Millet beer is very simple- and very alcoholic. It’s served in a wooden-cup (....more like a bucket) and filled with whole millet grain that’s been soaked in hot water for a few hours. You’re given a thermos of hot water to refill the cup when you’ve sucked up all of the millet-liquid (which tastes like tangy sangria....dangerous...) out of a long bamboo straw. I was told to make an offering to my ancestors before I took my first sip by dropping a little of the liquid on the floor and to say a prayer for my family. I asked them if I was supposed to say it out-loud or to myself and they said I could say it in my head. I took the bamboo straw out and let some of the beer fall on the floor (and onto my converse sneakers) and said something like a birthday wish to myself....it felt like I was “pouring some for my homies.”
I took my first sip...and it was surprisingly delicious. The man sitting net to me- who had spent the last 15 minutes explaining the history of Buddha to me- told me that I was supposed to take long 15-second draws from the straw, rather that little sips. I looked at him, and said, “That sounds like peer-pressure to me.” He and the other men laughed- and so did I. I felt strangely comfortable with them. I think it was because they understood my humor better than anyone I’ve met so far.
We spent another hour sitting and talking and I showed them some photos of my family and they showed me some photos of their fashion show. Twas a successful day, methinks.
My new friends showing me the inside of their family's organic greenhouse.
View of Kangchenjunga from Rukdong Village.
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