Language Barrier

One of the biggest hurdles of living abroad is language differences. Language is incredibly important, not only in getting ideas across but in making connections. People underestimate the value of connectedness until you’re surrounded by the senseless twangs and twitters of a language you don’t understand. It’s incredibly frustrating, not to mention lonely. When you finally come across someone that speaks your language, it’s like a sigh of relief, an immediate feeling of closeness.

My first official day at the hospital, I met two Australian medical students and instantly felt relieved like letting out a breath I didn’t 

know I was holding. “YES! There are foreigners to experience this with me, AND I can speak English, thank god.” Even though I can understand Nepali, it’s still foreign to me, a completely different phoneme set. I never learned it in school, and I haven’t used it extensively in over a decade. It takes an extra second and some mental work before the message relays. Even though I had just met them, I felt an instant sense of comfort. I know they can understand me. Ashleigh & Heidi were my saviors my first few days at Kanti Children’s Hospital. They showed me around and gave me a proper orientation. They had already been at Kanti for three weeks and are almost done with medical school so I had a lot to learn from them. I could translate for them, and they could explain the medical cases to me when the doctors were too busy. Ashleigh mentioned that explaining cases and treatments to me was a nice refresher for her. I’d say the three of us made a pretty good team. Unfortunately, the next week they were off to a different department, different team. Alone again, but this time I am a lot more confident…

Although at the time it was frustrating, I’m really grateful that I grew up multilingual. When I was young I hated attending ESL (English as a Second Language – yes, I only learned English when I was 3 or 4 in case you were wondering) and being confused about what language to use. Now, I can’t imagine not being able to understand my own family. Looking back, I laugh because my Nepali only ever comes out when I need to speak about something in private. When I’m out shopping with my mom in the U.S. and we’re being hounded by pushy salesman, I can talk freely without worrying about them cleverly twisting my words. I chuckle thinking about how my aunts and uncles seamlessly go back and forth among three or four languages all in one conversation without missing a beat. Sometimes I wonder if they even notice it. The words are arbitrary. They translate into meaning no matter what language is spoken.

At the hospital, I see how hard it is for other foreign students who have to sit and wait for someone to translate for them. Even then, sometimes thick accents can block any sort of understanding. However, it is nice to know that people here WILL try to communicate and translate for you. All the doctors speak English and Nepali. Most can also speak Hindi, and some of the surrounding dialects. With a little hand waving/pointing, and writing, the point gets across.  

Hopefully.

Culture Shock: Part II – The inevitable

At some point you start to notice differences, whether slowly or all at once, after or simultaneously with the good parts—it is inevitable. Even slight differences eventually create a rift between you and your host country, making you realize just how far you are from home.

One of my good friends asked me, “So what ISN’T in Nepal that we have in the U.S.?”

The answer is complicated. The short version: nothing. If you look in the right place, you can pretty much find everything here that you would in the states. It’s just …different.

• Sometimes, it’s not that Nepal doesn’t have something, but that people don’t know how to use it and instead revert back to old ways. I have seen refrigerators sitting around unplugged, and laundry machines gathering dust while girls vigorously scrub and hand wash their entire extended family’s clothes. Most houses don’t have microwaves (?!) even if they are readily available in stores. It’s somewhat amusing to see bathrooms fitted with bathtubs but then another shower/faucet set on the wall outside of the tub. I have not once seen any of those tubs put to good use. Everyone showers in the bathroom, outside of the tub, just out there in the open, no curtains, getting everything wet… it just does not make sense to me. I guess everyone tends to get stuck in their old ways, including myself. Like Lily Aldrin, I hate things being moist, even the word itself bothers me. I hate squishy wet flipflops/shoes. I hate wet clothes that cling to you. I hate slipping on wet floors. I hate moist walls and countertops. I hate mold. I hate the idea of not having toilet paper. Everything should be neat, clean, and DRY. Unfortunately, since it is rainy season that is never the case inside or out. So far everyday it has rained (on my parade ha ha)

• Other times, it is the case that standards are not enforced. Only now is quality control starting to come into place. Every night on the news, another atrocious crime of integrity is shown. Most times it is food related.  Grocers injecting produce with chemicals to make more money. Bakers and pastry makers use old rotting materials to make treats. Milk swirled with bits of melted plastic to make it look whiter and creamier, delicious right?

My first few days at Kanti Children’s Hospital were a real eye-opener. As a government funded hospital in a third world country where the government changes every six months, they do the best they can. However, for me, it was a drastic change from working in one of the best hospitals in the U.S. (Yay Mass General!) to this… After a 2-3 hour extensive lecture on the history of/lack of funding and stories of what efforts were trying to be made, we begun the tour. I literally felt nauseous, not from seeing any gory procedures, but from seeing (and smelling) the state of the hospital. The halls reeked of urine and were lined with overflowing troughs of garbage. People stared as we passed by, occasionally spitting on the floor (inside). I asked to use the restroom, they let me use the super special locked up staff toilet. There was no running water in neither the toilet nor the faucet, but the entire floor was sopping wet. I don’t think my stomach could have handled stumbling upon regular patient toilets. You’re lucky if you find a clean flushing toilet, extremely lucky if there’s toilet paper, most are literally holes in the ground. After meticulously sanitizing my hands with the alcohol sanitizer I brought from home, we continued the tour. In the NICU, the water in the faucets comes out brown. The OPD clinic was swarming with flustered parents and sick children, often 3-4 families crammed into a tiny cubicle. There is no such thing as patient privacy or confidentiality. It’s a race to shove your child’s chart into the doctor’s hands first as he’s finishing up with another patient.

                                     

Prescriptions don’t exist here. You can get almost anything over the counter. Pharmacists dole out medical advice and strong drugs without ever having to study medicine. Working in the health care field, this was a huge shock to me. The doctors at Kanti frequently yell at parents for giving their children adult drugs or inappropriate doses. I look up drugs before taking anything because half of them are not FDA approved for use in the US/Europe, usually for good reason.

the pollution, no exaggeration.

Outside near main roads, the pollution is horrendous. It is hard to breathe without a mask, even for locals. There are supposedly car inspections, but throw in some money and your car will pass no matter how disastrous it is to the environment (and our respiratory systems). Not only car fumes, but dirt and dust in general rule the air. A few days ago, I saw an old woman sweeping dirt off of dirt path which really only makes sense in baseball.

• The last scenario: they have it, just not enough. There are frequent electricity and water shortages. Most people have large water tanks that they fill up when water is available. In certain areas, they only get a little water for one hour a week, and even that isn’t clean water. It is not enough to last a family for a whole week of cooking, drinking, and bathing. I’m staying with family in Lazimpat, which is both near a river and lot of big hotels so luckily we usually have clean running water. With all the waterborne diseases, finding safe potable water is a must. Tap water generally isn’t safe to drink. Bottled mineral water isn’t always trustworthy either. My family filters the water, sets it out in the sun for 7 or 8 hrs (Solar water Disinfection), and filters it again before it is ready to drink.

Electricity shortages, called load shedding, are more frequent in the dry winter where the hydropower plants cannot meet demand. So far it’s only been for a few hours a day, a few days a week, but later on it can be up to 16 or 17hrs per day every day. My family has generators so it has not been a problem thus far but I remember that the last time I was in Nepal we used candles every time there was an electricity shortage.

There’s a lot more to be said about differences and challenges to overcome, too much for one post. Language, family & culture will have their own dedicated posts coming soon.

Culture Shock: Part I - Beginnings

Culture Shock is real kids. You hear the stories and never think it will happen to you.
Rest assured, it will.

My first few days were full of meeting new people, seeing new places, eating amazing food, and sleeping like rock (thank you jet lag). With getting settled, sightseeing, visiting relatives, shopping, and getting everything ready for work, the days were jam packed and flew by.

My aunt took us to see the last night of Indrajatra, which is an 8 day long festival in a very old part of the city, 

Kasthamandap
temple made entirely from a
single  tree without any iron
nails or supports,
the capital Kathmandu
is named after it.
(Kath means wood)

Hanuman Dhoka, the Kathmandu Durbar Square.

Kathmandu

Durbar Square

We walked around as she told us all the legends behind the festival. 

Later that night, we saw the living goddess, Kumari, being pulled by chariot (yes, an actual chariot, pulled by people) to the Kumari Ghar. She is preceeded by the other living deities, Ganesh and Kumar.

(Kumari House aka house of god: 261 Layaku St)

The legend of the Kumari and how she is chosen is fascinating but I won’t go too far into it. (If you’re interested, there’s more about it online or you can watch the 2008 documentary Living Goddess.) The little girl is treated as a living deity and commands the utmost respect. Thousands come to watch, hoping for even a glimpse of her. During the festival of Dashain, hundreds of people line up every day to be given a tikka by her hand. A tikka is a blessing placed on the forehead, symbolizing opening up the third eye, which gives one wisdom, concentration, spirituality, and luck.

Chariot pulled by Nepalis

Ganesh

My first sari

Everything felt new, exciting, and interesting. I was captivated by the legends behind the structures and festival, like having a story unfold in front of me. I really enjoy history and mythology.

I bought my first ever saris and kurta salwars to wear during the holidays coming up.

The short time we spent at home was spent meeting relatives and playing with my cousins’ adorable kids. My family would not let us help out with any housework because we still felt like guests to them. As my mom put it, “Life here is a vacation.”