thursday

Off to the Bollywood ball tomorrow. I have a new dress. It is the sartorial equivalent of a 50-year-old man buying a Harley Davidson, but I don't care. I think most people will be wearing saris, but the only time I wore a sari, I felt such a lumbering old lump compared to all the beautiful, petite, graceful Nepali women. So instead I'm going for the mutton-dressed-as-lamb option. Hope it will be a good night (I'm especially looking forward to the bingo)...

Went to book club today with some other trailing spouses. I was very excited about it because the hostess is well known for her baking skills, and I have to say she didn't disappoint. However, the other mums were a brainy lot, and although intimidated is probably too strong a word to use, I did mutter an internal 'ooh-er!' when the woman on my left mentioned 'ironic distance' in a text. I suppose I should get over myself - after all when I'm doing the masters I will no doubt have to bang on about feminist perspectives, naive narrators, etc.

Oh, I wanted to tell you a true life story about a Nepali woman out here. It's very sad, but somehow says volumes about the state of women in Nepal today:

Our previous housekeeper's little sister, who is nineteen, had rejected the idea of an arranged marriage and run off with a boy from a much lower caste. As a result, her parents ostracized her, and when she became pregnant refused to accept the situation. Then, when she was about three months pregnant, her young husband was killed in a motorbike accident. The girl was just a student and had no means of supporting herself or her child. Her family persuaded her to have a termination, which they paid for. However, after the operation, the hospital staff handed her the dead fetus, saying that it was up to her to arrange a burial. She had no money to do this, so her sister paid five hundred rupees (about £4.50 - but probably three days' wages) to a hospital cleaner to dispose of the baby's body. The girl is now finishing her course. Ironically she is studying midwifery, and now has to spend three months doing the practical part of her course, working as an assistant midwife. She worked for us for a couple of weeks, but it didn't fit in with her hospital shifts, so we had to let her go.

To me this feels like a Nepali story: the caste divide, the appalling road safety, her powerlessness as a result of her youth and gender, all of these conspired to create this tragedy. And the worst of it is, you know that it's just one of many out here.

Sorry, I know it's a bit depressing, but I just wanted to share this.