Big tikka and chocolate casinos

Ok – so I’ve gone and snuffed another goat. (I’m sorry Trace. I had to do it. It was self defence). I’m not sure whether a knack for lopping the heads off goats with a single blow is much of a marketable skill in New Zealand, but it certainly stands me in good stead here in Nepal. I’ve even been penciled in to perform the honours next year. This one was a shaggy mountain goat and initially looked like he had the neck of a WWF wrestler on him, and I got a bit worried. Luckily he turned out to be more hair than vertebra and he was soon looking at the rest of his body and wondering what happened.

The Butcher of Phutung strikes again. Is any goat safe?

It’s a good thing I like blood pudding. This gets fried up with the kidneys, liver and other tasty bits for a breakfast treat.

Dashain is a time of fun and games and to give and receive blessings. Everywhere one goes there are family groups to be seen, dressed up and bearing food and gifts, out visiting. Family is something that the kids here are a bit short on so it has been a reasonably quiet time for us. We have had a couple of visits from relatives of Ramesh and friends of the orphanage and have otherwise kept ourselves amused with games and the giant swings that get erected by locals every year.

These huge swings have popped up everywhere, this one in the nearby secondary school.

Keshab was keen but a bit scared, so he gets helped out by big brother Rabin.

One of the local kids shows how it should be done. Of course, I gave it a go as well. I would show you photos of my death-defying feats, but sadly the 8 year old I gave my camera to wasn’t up to chronicling my awesome stunt-swinging.

Ramesh’s bike gets a blessing. Vehicles across Nepal get blessed during the festival to ensure a year of safe driving (Ha! How about some road rules instead?) Buses, trucks, bikes, cars and tractors are daubed in sacrificial blood and garlanded with flowers and food.

The highlight of dashain is a ceremony on day 10 when people traditionally receive a tikka from their parents, some travelling a long distance to do so. The tikka consists of red paste mixed with rice and gets plastered on the forehead, where it dries and sets. It is worn with great pride and some of the kids manage to keep theirs intact for the whole day. Of course, the first hint of eyebrow-waggling from me and chunks were falling into my cornflakes. (By which I mean rice). The shoots of the seeds planted on day 1 are tucked behind the ears and food and money also given as tokens of bounty and good fortune. It is a lovely ceremony and quite a poignant moment to see these kids all getting tikka’d from Mum and Dad.

The tikka paste, shoots, food and money ready for the ceremony.

Ramesh and Sarala bless each other first, then proceed to the kids, from oldest to youngest.

Rabin and Roshan getting blessed by Mum and Dad.

What’s that? I have something on my face? Hang on… It’ll be the spinach from lunch… Did that get it? No? A bit higher? I might need a mirror?

Another dashain tradition is the playing of games. Suddenly, dice and card games sprung up on every street corner and the kids were producing coins and crumpled one and two rupee notes and chancing their arms. Some of the card games we had at home lasted for hours. The rupees changed hands regularly, though Rabin seemed to make a tidy profit from running the dice games. I soon gave away all the small change I had to the younger kids who had no money (by graciously losing) and came up with a plan so they wouldn’t feel left out.

All sweets and lollies are collectively referred to here as ‘chocolates’, whether they are chocolate or not. So I bought a few bags of sweets and handed them out one evening to be used as currency for the gambling games, so that all the kids could have a go. I put Rabin and Roshan in charge of the dice games, gave a deck of cards to Subash and the Chocolate Casino was born.

Rabin fleecing Ramesh.

The dice game of ‘Flags and Crowns’ is very popular.

The chocolate casino in full swing.

This place is crooked! Management gets snapped skimming some of the profits.

A chocolate fortune!

Every casino needs good security. I put Keshab on the door and told him to keep the riff-raff out.

It was an agonising decision for the kids: do I eat my stash now, or risk all for the chance of making a killing? They only started out with about 10 lollies, so most scoffed a few then hit the tables. I kept a few sweets in reserve for the more injudicious gamblers and the night ended with a giant lollie scramble as Roshan and Rabin redistributed their amassed wealth. (A gesture quite in keeping with the ideals of Nepal’s newly elected communist government, I thought). It was great fun; fortunes were won and lost and valuable lessons learned. I am never gambling again.

Yes, I am still going on about the Africa graphic. It’s driving me nuts. WHY AFRICA?

You see? That’s it. I’m drafting a letter to the network.