Thursday 19 October, FUNERAL SERVICE at LETE for young boy
GURU mountain animist RELIGION ?
Zantabir was anxious to get us going aim 21 km to Kalopani with a height gain of 1300m. I walked easily as we followed the banks up and down following the river. I missed a superb shot of a mule train as it bent its way down a narrow path and onto the scree above the river for fear of being knocked down. Thereafter I carried my camera round my neck but never saw its like again.
It was a beautiful walk along the fast flowing river past numerous waterfalls. The houses draped colourfully with drying corn some of which was a deep orange rather than the normal yellow. Joan spotted a waterwheel driving a grinding mill at the side of the path. Both my big toes are slightly painful with blisters under the hard skin, one of which Joan covered with mole skin leaving the other uncovered for comparison. The right toe was also blistered on the top surface. Only in a few places was there trouble finding secure footing though we were often walking with sheer deep drops to the river, but that no longer worries me these days.
Slowly
up with some downhill stretches where the path had slid into the ravine
and one needed to be extremely careful with footing often close to the
near sheer incline. The donkeys had descended to avoid one such severe
slope.
We saw a 70 year old American reliant on a stick negotiate it and
the help of his porter who told us he had last done this trek 8 years
ago and wanted to prove he could still do it, he missed the hashish and
hippies which were previously everywhere.
We had intended to get to Kalopani but by 4:15 it was raining heavily and starting to thunder between Ghasa and Lete. Zantabir went ahead to find a place to stay but we stayed at a farm where we learned they were having a special ceremony to mark the death just 6 days ago of a child whose father had died five years earlier and his mother last year leaving a family of orphans.
Since the house would be full they suggested we pitch tents on the flat roof which was sealed with soil above a wood and reed structure.
The guide
and porters cooked in the three hob main room whilst I watched with
interest. The potatoes for instance were boiled then fried and later
reheated in a half-cup of yak milk with lemon juice and a little tomato
ketchup. The cabbage was fried before the rice with pepper salt soya and
vinegar was added to the frying pan.
We were invited to go to the ceremony which was gathering in the large rear room but warned that we would not be let out until the ceremony was complete as the doors would be locked and sealed. We were of course delighted to be invited, our motto henceforth would become one of always take your chances, and often they are fabulous opportunities to witness quite different styles of life.
Da di da dit non stop drumming by the
local priest and a young boy, possibly a brother, didn't stop until
midnight. The drums with 2 foot circular skins held by a cross structure
at the rear. The priest and several others wore coloured hats.
The ritual centered around a pot of small conifer twigs on top of a bowl of ripe corn with a ladder staircase cut out of a small trunk in the traditional style, a much bigger notched trunk led up to our tents on the flat roof. There was a bowl of rice with porcupine quills with knife stuck into it in front of the priest who wore a necklace of above 60 black beads with two small white tusks, or teeth. The knife and necklace were central to the ceremony but there were other displays of porcupine quills and conifer. There were about forty people present of all ages.
As it started a group of about six older women sat on the floor in a huddle moaning, presumably mourning, sometimes with a white blanket over their heads. Then after an hour or so they broke off for something to eat.
At about 8pm
the service proper began, the priest led a recitation whilst the he and
the boy kept on drumming. A small white cloth was given with some rice, a
small white chicken was brought, a few feathers were pulled out in and
its blood was applied to all the steps of the ladder. The chicken was
taken out and the doors closed. All were seated for the ceremony, the
women and small children were on a carpet mats on the far side of the
room, the men and boys were largely on rows of benches.
It
was above all a social gathering with a good deal of gossiping between
the women whilst the men and boys as usual were mostly silent. The
priest often cracked jokes which seemed impromptu comments to the
audience. A small group of women in the rear doorway stood throughout, probably part of the household in the doorway to their rooms .
As
the women grew tired they laid down to sleep but I must admit I and
Joan and the men and boys were apt to doze off in our seats. When the
doors were closed the thresholds were covered in fine white dust,
possibly ash which was beaten out of sacking with a stick. Two miniature
models of sheep and one of a dog were set to guard the doors. They made
tracks back and forwards there was no other movement. At frequent
intervals the thresholds were closely inspected for traces of unwanted
movement. Towards the end the two benches near the front were occupied
by adult men and for the remainder of the ceremony the held sickles
aloft as did the young boy who we were even more certain was his
brother.
He looked solemn we even thought he was being made to cry,
until suddenly the shouting of a simple response began at which time he
joined in with gusto and looked at the old man sat next to him who we
assumed was his guardian.
The audience were very good to us and non more so than a man who spoke to us to the extent his English allowed. The comparisons were quite remarkable he was 45 I was 54 we both had two boys and a girl, his eldest was the girl at 20 with the boys at 16 and 14 whereas mine were 27, 26 and my daughter 23.
One final inspection of the doorways and a few ritual touches, for instance two men sitting on the women's side teased out some wool and twisted it into yarn and placed the scane on the firs on top of the corn barrel. Other pieces of conifer were used to decorate the walls and doors, a bit of conifer was set alight a the ashes sprinkled over the shrines. The white cloth was tied around the base of the trees.
Next morning we found out that most of the shrines were edible being spaghetti like strands probably corn base,some red some yellow and some natural. There was a procession with the firs and a large covered circular table which had probably been a shrine. This time the priest did not lead but he still played his drum.
We were later to discover this was the deepest part of the Annapurna
range with one side of the path an absolutely sheer rock face and the
other side little a little treed. Soon the procession reached the point
where a steep offshoot lead towards the gorge, they followed it a little
way down before laying down the firs now garlanded with a floral
necklace and set the large plate down. Everyone circled around it the
started to eat and as I photographed a boy brought me two large samples
of the spaghetti like delicacy.
The
priest shook my hand as he had done the previous evening, no doubt to
make us feel totally welcome. He wanted me to take a picture but I
explained there was not enough light yet in first light with only a
kerosene light for improvement, but I got Zantabir to hold a stainless
steel dish as a reflector and fooled the camera into thinking it had 200
ASA rather than 50 ASA film. I doubted any of the photographs taken the
night before would come out in spite of a single flood light in the room, but they just made
it capturing the very feel of the occasion using maximum 1.7 aperture
and using 15 second exposure, luckily a room divider helped me keep
the camera still enough. I was mad about leaving the flash unit with our
big rucksacks in Kathmandu, one shot I had missed the previous day and
on another the film has stuck failing to move on (all 36 exposures
having been taken) as I tried to record a maze of donkeys zig zagging
its way down a steep staircase.
Friday 20 October
On returning from the burial just described I walked around the property and discovered a hive of activity in the women, one group having breakfast with the children the, others washing up the pots delighted in teasing me. One grinning waved me over to illustrate the traditional was of scouring a huge copper pan with grit, only to show me her filthy blackened hands and threatening to wipe my face, whether to clean or decorate it I dared not to find out!
Joan left with a fine warm farewell from the lady of the house
GURU mountain animist RELIGION ?
Zantabir was anxious to get us going aim 21 km to Kalopani with a height gain of 1300m. I walked easily as we followed the banks up and down following the river. I missed a superb shot of a mule train as it bent its way down a narrow path and onto the scree above the river for fear of being knocked down. Thereafter I carried my camera round my neck but never saw its like again.
It was a beautiful walk along the fast flowing river past numerous waterfalls. The houses draped colourfully with drying corn some of which was a deep orange rather than the normal yellow. Joan spotted a waterwheel driving a grinding mill at the side of the path. Both my big toes are slightly painful with blisters under the hard skin, one of which Joan covered with mole skin leaving the other uncovered for comparison. The right toe was also blistered on the top surface. Only in a few places was there trouble finding secure footing though we were often walking with sheer deep drops to the river, but that no longer worries me these days.
 |
| TYPICAL BRIDGE, OK, BUT DON'T EXPECT RIGHT OF WAY from DONKEYS |
 |
| THE 70 YEAR OLD AMERICAN RELIANT on a STICK NEGOTIATES THE SCREE |
We had intended to get to Kalopani but by 4:15 it was raining heavily and starting to thunder between Ghasa and Lete. Zantabir went ahead to find a place to stay but we stayed at a farm where we learned they were having a special ceremony to mark the death just 6 days ago of a child whose father had died five years earlier and his mother last year leaving a family of orphans.
Since the house would be full they suggested we pitch tents on the flat roof which was sealed with soil above a wood and reed structure.
 |
| JOAN in TENT on FARM ROOF, ZANTABIR LOOKS ON - NB TREE TRUNK LADDER |
We were invited to go to the ceremony which was gathering in the large rear room but warned that we would not be let out until the ceremony was complete as the doors would be locked and sealed. We were of course delighted to be invited, our motto henceforth would become one of always take your chances, and often they are fabulous opportunities to witness quite different styles of life.
 | |
| PRIEST IN HAT with BOYS - note the long drumstick, corn, conifers |
The ritual centered around a pot of small conifer twigs on top of a bowl of ripe corn with a ladder staircase cut out of a small trunk in the traditional style, a much bigger notched trunk led up to our tents on the flat roof. There was a bowl of rice with porcupine quills with knife stuck into it in front of the priest who wore a necklace of above 60 black beads with two small white tusks, or teeth. The knife and necklace were central to the ceremony but there were other displays of porcupine quills and conifer. There were about forty people present of all ages.
As it started a group of about six older women sat on the floor in a huddle moaning, presumably mourning, sometimes with a white blanket over their heads. Then after an hour or so they broke off for something to eat.
 |
| THE SERVICE PROPER |
 |
| WOMEN ON FLOOR |
 |
| MEN SEATED |
 |
| PART of the HOUSEHOLD? |
 |
| HIS BROTHER? |
The audience were very good to us and non more so than a man who spoke to us to the extent his English allowed. The comparisons were quite remarkable he was 45 I was 54 we both had two boys and a girl, his eldest was the girl at 20 with the boys at 16 and 14 whereas mine were 27, 26 and my daughter 23.
One final inspection of the doorways and a few ritual touches, for instance two men sitting on the women's side teased out some wool and twisted it into yarn and placed the scane on the firs on top of the corn barrel. Other pieces of conifer were used to decorate the walls and doors, a bit of conifer was set alight a the ashes sprinkled over the shrines. The white cloth was tied around the base of the trees.
Next morning we found out that most of the shrines were edible being spaghetti like strands probably corn base,some red some yellow and some natural. There was a procession with the firs and a large covered circular table which had probably been a shrine. This time the priest did not lead but he still played his drum.
 |
| PROCESSION to BURIAL POINT the FOLLOWING MORNING |
 |
| SNACKS AT BURIAL SITE |
Friday 20 October
On returning from the burial just described I walked around the property and discovered a hive of activity in the women, one group having breakfast with the children the, others washing up the pots delighted in teasing me. One grinning waved me over to illustrate the traditional was of scouring a huge copper pan with grit, only to show me her filthy blackened hands and threatening to wipe my face, whether to clean or decorate it I dared not to find out!
 |
| BREAKFAST WITH THE CHILDREN AND COPPER POT SCOURING |
 |
| A FINE FAREWELL |
No comments:
Post a Comment