sunshine face

I feel that I have done a poor job introducing the newest members of Harka's family. As Britta and I discovered our first time here, it takes a while to observe well, and by no means do I suggest that two weeks could suffice. That being said, here's a peek into (perhaps a breath of) their stories.

You have read of Kanchi, the 21-year-0ld young mother of 4-year-old Sanju, recently divorced and lover of pretty things. They have only been at Harka for about a month now, and it seems that she has settled in with much ease--naturally taking to the older girls as an older sister herself, and vigorously working to clean and cook as if she is trying to earn her keep...or prove her gratitude. She remains a little fascinated by me considering the fact that I am the only Westerner she's ever actually lived with--I've come to the conclusion that I'm her very own American Girl Doll. Pre-packaged with the promise to decorate as she sees fit.

(post makeover)

This is all made more humorous by the fact that she doesn't know a lick of English and I have a good 28 words of Nepalese. After the red henna in the hair (that lasted all but 4 days), she moved on to decorate my hand with henna. I finally stopped her when she wanted to cut my armhair.

Sanju is your average 4-year-old boy with crazy bursts of energy and emotion. He plays hard and well with Tulie and Jamuna with the habit of trying to get away with pinching or hitting...he is still trying to balance the concept of being his mother's child along with 15 others.

(Sanju on left and Mikreecha on right)

Mikreecha, the new house parent's (Sita and Minude) 3-year-old daughter, suffers from the same affection issue. Instead of pinching, however, she just continues to breastfeed (which if I was a baby, lacked any other milk source, and was the youngest of a whole host of children wanting my mother's attention, I would most likely do the same thing).

Oh my goodness, I love these house parents sooo much more than I did Kumari and Prim. Minude's lack of English and absenteeism (besides the rice working days) has kept a pretty good distance between us, but he is good-natured and as far as I can tell does a good job balancing goofiness and discipline with the children. Sita, I love. She has worked very hard to make her English conversational, and so with my 28 or so words and her slightly more skillful tongue, we can understand each other and laugh and connect. She is 22 years old and about 4'8, but has this giant personality. She and Kanchi not only proved to work constantly while planting rice, but she has also shown herself to keep the rooms and clothes clean while maintaining something burning over a fire. There is no doubt, however, that she is saved by the working force of all the kids. They (mostly) delight in their chores which require several hours of patient focus and diligent work. Such a cycle keeps the small housefarm going.

Suman and Sujan are only the second biological siblings that have entered the mix--the others being the unlikely twinship of Jamuna and Ganga.

(Sujan on left, Suman on right)

Suman is a possible 5 years old to his older brother's 7. They have recently come to Harka under unknown circumstances other than they had no other place to go. I have enjoyed getting to know them. They are both mostly reserved, quiet, observant boys who seem to be waiting to fit into this family of sorts. Susanne, by nature, has more confidence and has found it a bit more natural to know his place. Since school has been out, he follows Ganga, Shishir (editor's note: this has been Secil's name all along...it just sounds much more like a 'Secil' that I didn't realize my inaccuracy until recently) and Bishal to the jungle to be with and direct the set of four goats that the orphan home owns. He takes great pride in these daily adventures as if he's learning a trade or finding a purpose. Suman, with his head slightly always pointed toward the ground and with a constant flow of mucus from his nostrils, sometimes willingly hangs in the corner waiting or wondering of inclusion. Then Ashish will burst forth with the command of a child who was raised in these walls, clasp Suman's hand and bring him to the divine imagination playgroup of the small, less industrious ones. Suman willingly enters and participates. Both of these boys have been the most frugal with my gifts thus far (they also are getting used to such an American). With both the bubbles and the clay, these two have held on to every ounce of soap and color granted them until a very deliberate, chosen moment. Waste not. It's as if they have a more recent, keen awareness of how quickly things can cease to be.

Finally, there is the 11-year-old Bishal (pronounced Bee-sawl).
He has actually been living at Harka for the past year and a half but is new to me...and goodness, I have a great love for him already. Unlike the more stoic Manish and more introverted Buddhi whose personalities lay dormant for a few days only to shine like the sun when you least expect it, Bishal is pretty much always sunshine. If I didn't know better, I would swear that he and Sima were born from the same woman. He is endlessly being clever and asking questions, proving that he pretty much has the best English out of everyone. Friday was the last official day of classes and as I held the girls' hands and more and more children continued to stare at me, Manish and Buddhi were no where to be found, but there was Bishal who deliberately came to me with his best friends in order to introduce me. He is quick to help nurture the young ones not unlike Soniya (helping with homework and reading) and jumps at the second he's asked to do any small task along with his daily goat duties. He and Sima have also managed to memorize the chorus and some verses to K'naan's "Wavin Flag". Sunshine.

I hope to take all 16 different rays of such bright delight with me to the Coca Cola Factory down the road this afternoon. I think they have to wear hairnets.

My time at Harka ends this Wednesday morning when I will be off to Pokhara for a few days. But until next time, I will leave with a favorite quote from Wendell Berry's Jayber Crow:

"For love is always more than a little strange here. It is not explainable or even justifiable. It is itself the justifier. We do not make it. If it did not happen to us, we could not imagine it."