Girl's Night Out

I went out last night to celebrate my friend, Jackie’s, birthday. We were a group of nine women: seven Westerners, one Tibetan and one Nepali. I was the only one who wasn’t a long time resident of Nepal. Most of them had heard about my imminent departure and I was asked about my decision several times over the course of the evening.

I tried to explain my decision as tactfully as possible, fully aware that all of these women had chosen years ago to make their lives in this country. (One Finnish woman works for the Foreign Service so moves around as her job requires, but the others are here permanently.) As I told my story, I felt somewhat of a failure for not being able to “make it” in an environment where these other women had clearly thrived. They were very non-judgemental and even sympathetic, commiserating over the trials and tribulations of living and working in these conditions. They all shared my sense of helplessness at work and the feeling that nothing of significance could be accomplished here. I was somewhat surprised that even under these circumstances they all chose to stay. Then I began questioning myself. Am I a dreamer for wanting to find a job and a home that don’t irritate me on a daily basis? Am I incredibly weak for not persevering in a negative environment? I came home feeling like a bit of a loser.

Then I spent the night staring at the ceiling listing to a cacophony of dogs and some other unidentifiable noise. At 4:30 I didn’t hear the pump go on, so I assume there won’t be enough water for a shower today. At 6:30 the police ran by doing their morning exercises, heavy boots pounding on the pavement outside my window. I finally managed to doze between 7 and 9 but still don’t feel rested. I need to get to the post office but there is a bandha today, so I likely won’t be able to make my way across town. (A bandha is a strike, usually accompanied by demonstrations in the streets and massive traffic jams, in support of any cause that ticks enough people off.) Tomorrow is yet another festival of some sort and Saturday the post office is closed. (Is it a coincidence that the bandha was planned on the day before a “long weekend”? I think not.)

In two weeks I’ll be on my way back to Canada and I’m not going to feel guilty, weak or sorry for my decision.