dog dimples

"It is only now, these years later, that Rahel with adult hindsight recognized the sweetness of that gesture. A grown man entertaining three raccoons, treating them like real ladies. Instinctively colluding in the conspiracy of their fiction, taking care not to decimate it with adult carelessness. Or affection.

It is after all so easy to shatter a story. To break a chain of thought. To ruin a fragment of a dream being carried around carefully like a piece of porcelain.

To let it be, to travel with it, as Velutha did, is much the harder thing to do."

Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things is one of the many novels Britta and I have gone through since we've been in Nepal. This excerpt is a reflection of the central character, Rahel's, childhood in which she, her twin brother, and cousin would use their 7-year-old imaginations to create an entire universe all to themselves. And during the day they would entertain their neighbor friend, Velutha, an Untouchable (lowest level of the Indian caste system) in his twenties who protected their childhood by going along with their imaginations...edifying their make believe.

I started to cry (I know, way too early for that) the other morning while playing with Ashish and Secil next to a morning fire cooking rice. It was the usual games of tickle fits and peek-a-boo but at one single moment I got a rush of realization: I have had the rare opportunity to sit in on young childrens' stories and dreams and conspiracies of fiction.

It happens just about every day when the older kiddos are at school that the younger four gather flowers, grab a huge stone, and start pounding them into 'chutney' (mimicking the salsa we make with tomatoes and stone and cilantro)...that concoction is then served on large leaves on an elegant floor of dirt and mud. I will miss this delicacy along with Secil's treasures of pencil tops and trash, Jamuna's facial expressions, Tulie's snotty smooches. Their whispers and giggles have been the grandest gesture of an invitation to childhood once again. It breaks my heart that they have no idea we're leaving in five days. Okay, still too early to start crying.

Seeing that our departure is Sunday morning, we are busybusy getting together our going away presents for all the children...and 17 is quite the task. Both Britta and I have a couple pieces of jewelry that we will leave, several goodies that we brought and have saved for such an occasion, and Sheena sent material for Friendship Bracelets that we have been mass producing. I seriously feel like I am 8 years old again going to summer camp (and I can still picture them all the way up my oldest sister's arm as she sported her '80s look (: ). The children have exams all this week which not only means working on our English reading and Algebra skills but also having all children home the vast majority of the week. So these last days are certainly l.o.n.g. ones. In addition to compiling gifts, we have taken the task of a wall mural in the children's room. And I'm not gonna lie, it's amazing! Britta brought a shoebox full of craft paint that we have turned into pictoral ABCs and 123s next to their beds. And being the talented artist that she is, Britta painted the most adorable pictures next to every letter including B for Balloon, G for Giraffe, R for Rhino, and J for John Cena (for those who don't know [I'm expecting most of you] he is the WWE world wrestling champion)!!

The older children have been reacting differently due to our upcoming departure...Sirjana could not be more sweet and clingy, Ramesh could not be more obnoxious asking for 15 different gifts, and both Sima and Soniya go in spurts of being snuggly and giggly to being super mad and giving us the cold shoulder. Which brings me to my girl, Soniya.

I see more of myself in this 9-year-old jokester than any of the other children, barnone. It all started at the beginning (as it tends to do), when for the first week or so Soniya did her best to not speak the words she knew in English and keep us confused as she spattered off directions and ditties in Nepali. She would laugh and carry on, making me entirely annoyed until I finally learned to play her game. So whenever she would jabber on, I would repeat the same speed talk in English making exaggerated facial expressions and cackle all the while...she would laugh hysterically as if to say, "Alright now, you can roll with my game." The game being sarcasm, of course. Those close to me know that I have used this since I was a wee lass (much to the chagrin of my middle sister), and can sense it out even through a different language.

Around the same time we realized yet another, and even more unique, similarity. We both have a scar on our right cheek that disguises itself as a dimple...and hers was made by a dog's clinched jaw as well.

Needless to say, we've been best buds ever since. Her impeccable posture, dark, rich skin, thick short hair, and loud, honest laugh are the characteristics to a young girl who wears her emotions on her sleeves (she can't help but cry when one of the older boys makes her mad) and who was born to nurture as she continuously takes Babu to her side or gives Tulie a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Soniya with Babu

Yesterday while I was painting she asked me if when I went back to America if I would forget about her. Sooooo something I would have thought and most likely said to any of my camp counselors growing up, and it's as if they've had us for an entire summer. By living with her emotions so loosely dangled around her neck, she allows herself to hurt more and get far too upset over simple things, but she also makes herself available to love with a strong, passionate, profound, even sarcastic language.