Women of Phu Village
During our first visit to Nepal and three-week expedition into the Nar Phu valley in 2012, my wife Chantal journaled daily; her notes became invaluable to trigger my memory on certain events and details while writing A Story of Karma. Here she shares from her encounters with the women of Phu village.
Phu village, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012—our first full day in Phu village.
Instead of alarm clocks tooting, the babies of Phu start reliably crying around 7 am. I pull my sleeping bag hood over my head and keep snoozing, trying to ignore the long-ingrained rhythm of village life that is calling me to rise. By 7:30, I abruptly and fully awake from my slumber as shrill voices, high-pitched enough to pierce through the brisk morning wind, reach our tent. I’m alarmed. What is going on? I poke my head out of the tent and up towards the rooftop terraces from where the yelling is coming from.
It’s the women of Phu, calling to each other from across the terraces. A couple days later, after repeatedly observing this morning spectacle, I realize that the women must be getting themselves organized for the day and that this shrill way of yelling, is the best way to communicate from terrace to terrace. How is everyone this morning, who is ready to go to the fields, who is bringing supplies and tools, who is cutting firewood, who is fetching water from the river and doing laundry, who is tending to the animals….No phone calls or texting here…this gets the job done!
The women are already fully dressed in their chupa (traditional Tibetan village dress) with many extra layers to fend off the April frost—they’re busily tending to their morning chores. By 8 am, some women are leaving town with their goat heard, most likely leading them to water and grazing areas, and maybe already to their terraced fields to start fertilization of the soil for spring planting. Others carry huge wooden baskets of hay or firewood on their backs, a band strapped to their head to carry the load. I see some men doing this, too.
By now, the welcoming warmth of the first sun rays touch our tent. It is 9 am and clear out. The sun and warmth remain until about 1 pm, when the wind picks up and Himalayan griffins circle above the village. As the clouds roll, the mood shifts, it gets dark and cold. An earie feeling envelopes me. I am uncomfortable and my mood darkens. Flurries and even some snow falls, turning the fields and paths into ankle deep sludge. This seems to be a daily pattern at this time of year. I am cold and my body doesn’t seem to keep warm despite all the layers of clothes I put on. I huddle in the mess tent, gratefully cradling my cup of hot tea, which is carefully prepared by our kitchen boy several times a day. I turn inward, I contemplate this moment…this day…this journey…my life.
Women of Phu village working their fields.
Sunday, April 15, 2012—planting day in Phu village.
Three days after our arrival in Phu, I see two dominant groups of women making their way up a steep path to the top of the hill and the terrace that hosts their uppermost fields. I deliberate and finally muster up enough courage to overcome my shyness and follow them up…might as well, since Mike’s long gone on another day of mountain reconnaissance with Nepali climbing guides IC and Nawang. The other guys from our expedition crew, Mikki, Arek and Jason, are undoubtedly also already out and about the village, pursuing their artistic crafts (music, photography, painting).
Yesterday the village received some sort of blessing from the Lama—I think he gave the go ahead to start preparing the fields for planting. When I arrive at the top of the steep hill, I see the women digging up two large patches of field. Our dashing Sherpa guide, Dawa, is already up there, taking in the scene. I’m grateful to see him as his presence and ability to translate allows me to chat with the women a bit. They are digging quite deep with handheld ‘plow picks’ to get the grass roots out of the soil—they can use it as fodder for the yaks and goats. My presence doesn’t seem to bother them. I’m not quite gutsy enough to jump in and try myself—the digging looks tough to say the least—and they remark I am not suitably dressed for it, while pointing at their various layers of clothes that seem to have specific functions. My trim-fit trekking gear doesn’t cut it. And I still feel like an intruder. Tomorrow, they will start seeding barley. At 14,000 feet (4,000+ m.), barley and potatoes are pretty much the only thing that will grow here—it is their staple food. I note that there are only a couple men up by the fields. The women seem to do most of the work around here…they joke that the men only come to eat!
Photoshoot in Phu Village
Dawa helps me to arrange a visit to Tashi’s house for 8 pm tonight—she kindly agrees to host our team and the other women from the field to come over after dinner. Arek wants to do a photoshoot project for the villagers, taking their portraits and sending them the prints with the next porter that treks up to Phu in the fall. At 8 pm, we crash Tashi’s dinner, which seems to consist of a modest omelet, fried in a small pan over a dung-fueled stove, which takes centre-stage in her dark yet neat and tidy one-room house. I’m curious where she got the eggs from as I haven’t seen any chickens in Phu—she must have brought them up from a lower village on the Annapurna Circuit, a couple long days walking-distance away. She is now more hesitant about the photoshoot, wanting to ensure that everyone will indeed get their photos sent to them. Arek sincerely confirms his commitment to do so. Tashi agrees but only if I join her in the photo, and only if I also agree to take one with her shy friend. The photoshoot is underway! The two friends adorn me with their Tibetan choral and turquoise stone necklace and pull my neck buff over my head to match their headscarf look…they call me ‘didi’ (sister).
