Bandh it is?

The other night we left our hotel a little after six and made our way out of our dusty, dark, and relatively quiet ally onto the dusty, dark, and relatively loud road. From there we set out to find ourselves a cab to take us to Scott’s former host family’s house for some snacks and whiskey. As we stood on the side of the street in search of a cab the rumblings of drums and brass instruments began to close in on us and within a minute our efforts to find a taxi were put on hold as we stood on the sidelines as a wedding procession made its way past us. In the front was the marching band, all in seemingly secondhand red uniforms that were slightly too small for their non-teenage bodies, their jackets complete with coattails and chin strapped hats. Directly behind the band was the car with the bride, decorated with yellow and orange marigolds glued on all sides, followed by a gaggle of sullen looking men dressed in dark suits who seemed like they were waddling to a funeral instead of skipping to a wedding.

At the same time, across the street a man was slowly pushing a bicycle that was loaded down with giant plastic woven bags that could have contained anything from rubber piping to bricks or cloth. The load was at least 4 feet across and 3 feet high, and set atop it was a small boy who straddled one of the bags, his torso swaying back and forth, as if he were riding a horse. All the while motorcycles, cars, and rickshaws wove their way through these obstacles kicking up dust and leaving noise and all other forms of pollution in their wake.

It is hard to really explain the level of commotion and chaos that exists here. To walk down the street requires a constant vigilance and hyper awareness of one’s surroundings if you hope to make it to your destination in one piece. Besides needing to constantly remind myself to look right, then left, I also have to watch out for the uneven terrain and possible cow dung, brick pile, bubbling sewage, or dead rat that might be in my path. At night, the streets are incredibly dark due to the excessive load shedding, which is now up to almost 14 hours a day, making it even harder to get around.

With the cold and constant blackouts it becomes even harder to take in what is going on around every corner. Women hold small babies approach and plead for milk for their babies, something that seems innocuous but is really just a scam. A particularly heart breaking scam. Kids stumble through the streets as the bags from which they are inhaling glue crinkle and expand, crinkle and expand. A few feet away a dog climbs over and around a boy no older than ten who is passed out in a doorway. Back on the road that leads to our ally we can just make out the silhouettes of three cows, a stray dog and a woman scavenging for whatever they can find in a giant heap of trash on the side of the road. The only light coming from a few fires people have lit in large shallow metal bowls on the sidewalks and are crouched around trying to warm themselves.

There is a fuel crisis in Nepal and over the past few days students have been taking to the street in protest. Many shops seem to be closed today, and though we didn’t notice it at first, it became clear after trying to knock on the door of the shop that is “repairing” my phone so I can use it here. A man selling fruit was standing in front of the closed door. He turned to me, pointed at the lock and said “bandh chha.” As there are still some cars on the road and shops open I have a feeling that this strike may be lackluster enough that I will still get my phone back today, in whatever shape it may be in.

I've been trying to think of a positive note to end this post on, but some days I just can’t think of a sweet cream cheesy frosting to put on this vegetable loaf so I guess I’ll just leave it at that for the moment.