The central office in Kathmandu formed a team to conduct a
survey of the Humla-Mugu road, which would connect Humla for the first time
with the rest of the world. I was one of the members, and I was exhilarated
because this time around, we had to stay in really rural places without shelter
(probably), good food, internet and even a phone connection. I had never
imagined that I would be presented with such an opportunity. It was a free
ticket for a whole new experience, and a rare one at that.
We reached Gamgadi, the headquarters of Mugu on 10th
September (2015) and so began our 35 day long trip to one the most rural and
challenging places I have ever been to (and probably will ever be) in my life.
Thirty five days in an unknown land with unknown traditions
and unknown people is a recipe for bizarre and extraordinary stories, and I
could even write a book about it, but a blog will do for now. So, I’ve decided
to share some insane events that occurred during my time there in separate
posts.
I call this story: Curse of the cucumber
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| Luma Village, where the incident happened (photo: Vivek Singh) |
Luma Village: It happened on the very first day of work. My
friend and I were supervising survey work in a cultivated field when a local
helper (we had employed eighteen locals to help us with the survey and carry
our luggage) came to us with two cucumbers. “Kakro Khane ho sir? (do you want to have some cucumbers?)” he
said.
The sweltering heat of the Mugu sun owed to the craving for
a cool snack and there was no way we’d say no to cucumber. We took them without
hesitation, sent him back to work, and sat down in the cool shade of a nearby
tree. My friend always carried a knife with him in the forests for protection
(against “wild” animals, he says) but throughout our time in Mugu, it served a
very menial purpose (cutting apples and cucumbers) than what it was actually meant
for (except in one occasion, the knife claimed the life of a sheep under very
unusual circumstances, but that’s a different story altogether!). This was the
inauguration. The outer layer of the cucumbers were a bit dusty, so we decided
to cut them longitudinally, eat the inner soft part and throw the outer layer.
What we didn’t know was that Hasta, the helper, had
stolen the cucumbers from a field nearby, and apparently, some village people
had seen him do that.
We returned back to work, and after a few minutes, we got
called in through the walkie-talkie by Tika sir, our team leader. “Hello!!
Team!! Over??”
I responded and then, he informed that about thirty people
from the village barged into the work site and forced them to halt work. We
were surprised by the news because just a few hours earlier, the locals were
very welcoming and it seemed then that they didn’t have any problem with the
survey. This is the literal translation of what our team leader said when asked
why: “They say that people from our team stole some cucumbers from their field
and ate them. I assured them that we had nothing to do with it. But they insist
that we did. Some say they even saw a few of us munching down on them near the
tree at zero point.”
Apparently, the whole village were agitated because a team
of outsiders came barging in on their field and stole their cucumbers. The team
leader was backing up the whole team because he was certain that nobody from
the team could have ever done that. My friend and I looked at each other. I
found the situation funny and scary at the same time. We decided to keep shut until
the situation calmed down. We resumed with our work because Tika sir said he
would handle the situation by himself. A few minutes later, we heard him on the
Walkie-talkie again, and this time, he seeped panicky. “The locals say they
found outer layers of cucumber dumped near the tree I was talking about
earlier. Looks like somebody really did eat them. I’m having a hard time
dealing with the folks out here. I’m trying my best to control the situation.
Over!” We could even hear angry shouts and curses from locals over the talkie.
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| Agitated locals |
I talked to my friend and we thought about going there to say
we had eaten them, and then pay for them. We were scared out of our wits, and
were unsure if it would be the right thing to do. We chickened out and decided
to wait for Tika sir. Miraculously, Tika sir really did work his magic and
calmed the people down. By the time we finished our work and returned to the village, Tika sir was sipping tea with the villagers, laughing and talking
and having a good time. Later, we found out that he had decided to employ a few
locals from the village as compensation for damaging part
of their cultivated land in the survey (and eating a few cucumbers while we were at it). In the end, nobody had an idea that it was us who had
eaten them, and Hasta who had stolen them FOR us. Hasta learned a lesson
of not stealing anybody’s cucumber (especially when working as a representative
of an organization).
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| The view from a Kodo bari atop Luma |
So, all this over two cucumbers? I don’t know about my
friend, but I had a moment of enlightenment then and there. Salad would always
be taken for granted by me in Kathmandu. Cucumber was just another item that
would be half eaten and thrown away in restaurants. I was born and raised in
Kathmandu, and I was never in my life exposed to hardship, and this was a
completely different experience. The phrase “Fighting for food” had a very
literal sense here. I had seen poverty first hand, but never really realized
it. This was my moment of realization, and in some way, I believe this
experience has made me closer to the people there. Come to think of it now, I
am kind of glad that Hasta stole those cucumbers because it taught me
two valuable lessons: Things we take for granted might mean the world to others, and
never to mess with people from Luma.
