Tackling the Great Wooly Mammoth

I am slooooooowly sipping a cup of overpriced masala chai for the luxury of wireless internet on my own laptop. It’s such a joy not to pound away on the sticky keys of primitive PCs at the only reasonably priced internet cafes around Kathmandu. Oh, the things I take for granted in America. Why back so soon, you ask? Or maybe you didn’t, but I’ll tell you anyway—on the day of my sign language lesson, a protest-cum-riot brought the whole city to a standstill, and my famed instructor couldn’t cross town to make the meeting. We had our make-up session early this morning, which worked to my benefit, because we didn’t waste any time with signs I could (and did) pick up on my own. I’ve been picking up Nepali Sign Language much more easily than anticipated—a third of the signs are similar to ASL, another third are similar to Tamil signs, and the final third are brand new to me, but logical enough (I suppose). I lucked out with three especially helpful teachers—the head teacher/my host mother (who speaks decent English and signs well, but is extraordinarily busy), a deaf teacher named Sharmila (who has a large English vocabulary and the patience of the Buddha), and another deaf teacher named Thulo (who knows very little English, but knows more ASL than I do!). After only a few days, I can follow along classroom lectures quite easily, even in a few of the upper level classes. I just hope by the end, I’ll be able to follow the complex, breakneck conversations among the teens and adults!

I’ve got sound and silence on the brain after my first few days at the deaf school, and already, I’ve stumbled upon a marvelous gem—my host family’s home sits smack next to a very noisy boarding school. From the balcony of my fourth story penthouse (if only!), I can overlook (ermm, overhear… but you’ll see what I mean) the national anthem sung each morning four floors below, and even peek into the open-windowed classrooms at eye-level. I hope to use this dynamic as an insider at a deaf school and an outsider at a hearing school to build a productive tension between sound and silence, as y’all suggested early on in the semester. When a group of children accidentally tossed a ball on my balcony, I carried it back down to safety and made nice with one of the teachers, explaining my project and intentions. I’m crossing my fingers that word will spread, and that public knowledge will be the unspoken permission I need to be a bit of a voyeur at this school. I also love the way the path to the deaf school—from the throbbing heart of Banepa through back roads to the countryside—gradually shifts from a trafficky, metropolitan sonic overload to a tranquil, earthy soundscape. I’m not sure entirely what I’ll do with these diamonds in the rough, but I have a few ideas. I’ve envisioned an entirely new structure, and I’ve been considering sending you a revised treatment, but who has the time? I know you’ve got your own film projects to worry about, and you’re too kind for making it this far in my long-winded entry. (Ten extra brownie points if you can make it to the end! Jistkeko! (That’s Nepali for “just kidding.” Isn’t that awesome?)) I may take Jeff up on his offer to read our “unblogworthy… frantic pleas for help” (Silva 2). ;-) If you wouldn’t mind taking the time to look over a super-informal revised treatment sometime in the coming month, let me know in the comments! I don’t want to burden you with extra work, but I really value your feedback.

For every blessing, there’ve been just as many barriers… I promised myself I’d spend the first week observing classes in order to let the children get to know me, to learn sign language and sign names, and to put serious thought into how I’m going to film this baby before I dive in the deep end. However, I broke down when I found out the recent graduates (who spend their days sewing and crafting together in the school’s office) would be selling their handmade crafts at a youth conference. I spent the whole morning shooting the lengthy preparation process—packing up, loading, unloading, and setting up—only to spend the whole afternoon waiting for them to make a sale. I got plenty of shots of them not making sales, but I don’t think it will be able to hold its own. It was frustrating to lose a whole day and a valuable mini-DV, but it did make for a good warm-up exercise (I would have lost a few shots anyway to that clumsy-and-forgetful stage after you’ve spent some time apart from the camera… like forgetting about focus for a solid ten minutes!), and it gave me a chance to see how the women reacted to the camera. The result? They act naturally when I’m rolling (yay!), but go out of their way to be in the shot (boo!). It turns out I’m not the first person to come to Banepa with a film project—many years ago, an American photographer named Kristen lived for some time in the deaf school, teaching English and taking pictures. She returned to Banepa three years later with the photo book she published and copies of the photos for all the children… Apparently some students made the cut and some didn’t. Whenever Kristen comes up in conversation (which is more often than you’d think, and never by my prompting), the older girls are quick to point out which students were the lucky few to be in the book, and which were left on the cutting room floor. It seems to me that this time around, the jilted students are looking for their fifteen minutes of fame (in my little student film, go figure!). For now, it doesn’t seem to be a problem, so I’m just going with the flow.

Another frustrating moment was when, in one fell swoop, I discovered that I lost my steadywings and broke my headphones. I was (and still am) so mad at myself for screwing up, but I’m trying to quit beating myself up over it. Fortunately, I “borrowed indefinitely” about seven pairs of earbuds from my trans-Atlantic flights (hey, free ear buds!), and I hope to get a high quality, reasonably priced (is that oxymoronic?) pair of headsets in Kathmandu today. As for the steadywings, I’m waiting to hear back from the hotel and original taxi driver who have promised to double and triple check their respective facilities (believe it or not and lucky for me, my volunteer organization uses one regular, reliable taxi guy)… Keep your fingers crossed for me!

My apologies for the lack of photos and comments. The battery for my still camera bit the dust (a permanent and untimely death), and I’m working on getting a replacement. After some slick haggling at a Kathmandu camera shop, I got an infoLITHIUM battery identical to my original, but the label was attached upside down, and when I put it in my camera, I got the error message: “This camera uses infoLITHIUM batteries only.” Needless to say, I wish I was having the same bargaining problems that Adam is having! It seems like every tourist-tout in Nepal is trying to pull a fast one on the Westerners here! For now, here’s a Photo Booth snapshot of the log book I made, in hopes that it would inspire me to be diligent with my logging. Unfortunately for me, it’s already begun to fall apart, so let this serve to preserve my good intentions. As for the comments, I didn’t even realize that people were leaving comments until last night! Reading through them was super fun, and I’ll be certain to add my own two cents quite soon… There’s such an overwhelming sense of support and comraderie when I remember that, even though I’m out here on my own trying to tackle this mammoth of a project, all of you are going through the same thing. It’s awesome to have this blog as a bouncing board and as a way to keep track of y’all, and it’s pretty spectacular that we’ve built this supportive network. And I saw while the page was slooooowly loading (just as slowly as I’ve been sipping this tea) that Adam added Google Analytics. It will be so much fun to look at the visitor map at the start of next semester!

Speaking of tea and mammoths, I’ve nearly finished my second pot of the stuff, and this entry has become quite the wooly giant itself! During my day off next week (the kids go to school SIX days a week here… the horror!), my other host mother is running a free screening for breast and cervical cancer (between founding deaf schools and heading NGOs and providing free health care, is there anything these magnificent sisters don’t do?) and I’ve agreed to lend a hand, so it will be at least a fortnight until you hear from me again. In the meantime, have a crazy. crazy time filming, and write some big, fat blog entries so I can savor them on my next journey to Kathmandu!

Peace, love, and mini-DVs,
Ty