'We dual'

The pronoun system of Sumi is given below. As you can see, pronouns in Sumi are marked for singular, dual and plural number.

SINGULAR
ni / i 'I' (these carry low tone)
no 'you' (this carries low tone)
pa 'he/she' (li 'she' also exists, but is not used often)

DUAL
ikujo 'we two'
okujo 'you two'
pama / küma 'they two'

PLURAL
ningu 'we all (more than two)' (ni- carries mid tone)
nongu 'you all (more than two)' (no- carries mid tone)
panongu 'they all (more than two)'

In addition, you can specify the number of people in a group, e.g.niküthü (ni-küthü 'we-three') 'we three', nobidi (no-bidi 'you-four') 'you four'.

It was therefore interesting to hear (and to be able to see the mistake when) a friend's 3 year old son pointed to a photo of himself and his father and said, 'nikini', which literally means 'we-two'. He was quickly corrected, the pronoun ikujo being the expected form here.

I'm no child language acquisition specialist, so I can't comment on this as such, but this would suggest that the dual forms are the most marked ones in the pronoun set (similar to English nouns with irregular plural forms) which are learnt after the other pronouns.

Not for the love of syllables

I had an interesting conversation last night with Ab.'s dad last night. He mentioned something that he had said to me last year that I had forgotten. It concerned the syllable structure of English and Sumi. I thought I had misunderstood him the first time, but last night seemed to confirm my original impression.

So the conversation went something like this: in English, we have the word love (we're talking about the verb here), which is monosyllabic (has one syllable). In Sumi, the word for 'love' is kimiye, which is trisyllabic (has three syllables). However, this is actually usually pronounced as disyllabic [kim.ye], with [ki.mi.ye] only appearing in careful speech. (My own belief is that Sumi has these things called 'sesquisyllables' consisting of a weak or 'minor' syllable followed by a strong or 'full' syllable, but let's not go into that.) The point was that we 'needed' to to somehow make the Sumi word for 'love' monosyllabic or coin a monosyllabic equivalent, because the word in English was monosyllabic.

I'm sure most people would find the very thought of this absurd - afterall, all languages have their own syllable structure - but it just goes to show people's attitudes towards English here and how much power English as a language wields within such a, dare I say, post-colonial discourse.

And there are other examples: Sumi makes a meaningful contrast between the voiceless aspirated and voiceless unaspirated post-alveolar affricates /ʧ/ and /ʧh/, which have been written as 'ch' and 'chh' in the orthographic system. (Most English speakers who say the word 'church' will notice that the first sound is accompanied by a strong puff of air. This is a voiceless aspirated post-alveolar affricate. However, most Singaporean English speakers probably wouldn't have that strong a puff of air, and the sound will actually be closer to the voiceless unaspirated affricate.) Recently there's been a move to change 'chh' to 'tch', because in English we have words like 'pitch' where the same sound is represented by 'tch'. Never mind that words like 'teach' and 'church' also exist where the sound is written with 'ch', or that English does not even have a meaningful contrast between the aspirated and unaspirated affricates (so if you said 'church' without that extra puff of air, it wouldn't affect the meaning of the word). The move from 'chh' to 'tch' therefore seems rather pointless to me, unless you're trying to make the language's writing system closer to English's own crazy orthography.

Burmese snack

Last week I was given this little packet of food (?) that I was told had come from Burma. The Burmese writing on the packet seemed to confirm this - not so sure about the anime style pictures.

Me being me, I just had to try it, despite the fact that the contents looked more like pet food pellets. I'm still trying to figure out what on earth I ate. It was an odd mix of sweet and a savoury...

Language vs Culture

At the Ahuna festival two weeks ago I met Ab. (click here for her blog). She'd just come back to Zunheboto after spending some time abroad, including a few years in the UK. Importantly, she'd heard about the World Oral Literature Project (WOLP) and had even contacted Mark Turin regarding the documentation of Sumi stories. One of the reasons I'd come back to Zunheboto (apart from the festival) had been to find native speakers who were willing and able to do documentary work on their own language, with the aims of producing a dictionary (and possibly a grammar). Incidentally, I had considered applying to the WOLP for funding as well - mostly so I could return to conduct a few workshops, but I never imagined I'd meet anyone who would be interested in recording texts right now.

So it was incredibly fortunate that I met her here in Zunheboto. We brought up the topic of doing a documentation project with H S R., the chairman of the Sumi Language Academy and the Sumi Cultural Association, who happens to be one of the most respected members of the community. And somehow, in the past week and a half, we've come up with a proposal to document a number of traditional songs and stories. These songs are rarely performed nowadays and only a few members of the older generation are familiar with them and even fewer are able to compose new ones.

We decided to do the project under the auspices of the Sumi Cultural Association, since the project will be looking at activities deemed 'cultural'. Without going into too much detail, we've spent three out of the past five days visting schools and offices (I've lost count of the number) seeking the support of important members of the community both financially and in spirit. I've also had more milk tea and amixi (snacks like biscuits that go with tea) than I would've liked. We're also planning a trip to Kohima later this week to meet with other officials to seek their support (and hopefully I'll be able to see some things at the Hornbill Festival too).

Now there are some members of the community whom I had spoken to about a dictionary project in the hopes that I could find someone to train to use the software and do a basic linguistic analysis of the entries - I personally would prefer a native speaker who can use a computer to do the dictionary than myself since a) I'm not a native speaker of the language b) there are capable young people who are proficient in both English and Sumi and c) there's a lot of administrative trouble for me to physically remain in the state and the country. In any case, no one suitable had been found, so I suggested that once I had secured some funding, we could put an ad up in the paper later next year and that I could return to do the workshops.

That all seemed fine until these same people heard about the documentation project. Suddenly, they're telling me not to forget the dictionary. One person went as far as to say that I should be doing the dictionary, not the 'cultural documentation' project. This is all in spite of my reassurance that such a documentation project will feed into a dictionary - stories and songs are composed of words afterall! So now I find myself in an odd conflict between 'language' and 'culture', which to me is completely ridiculous because they're both so inextricably intertwined.

I'm also not sure what they expect of me with regards to the dictionary. Over the past two weeks, I've had one-two hour sessions with a member of the Sumi Literature Board who's insisted on sitting me down and going through lists of animal names, unsure of their English translations, and simply describing them without any pictures! I've tried to hint that this really isn't the proper methodology for doing a comprehensive study of zoological terms, but apparently there's a list of plant and fruit names coming tomorrow...

At the moment I suppose I have to reassure these people that I'm not abandoning the dictionary (and I'm not), while at the same time looking for ways to implement a long term project even when I'm not physically present, which was the initial goal anyway. Ideally, I'd like to be back next year for 3-4 months, but it'll depend on funding and whether I get permission to remain in the state for that long a period of time.

Potato smasher

The other day I was asked by a shopkeeper,"Khuuno ghami kea?", which translates roughly as 'Which village are you from?' (lit. 'Whose village person (are you)?') The morpheme gha is also found in lagha which translates as 'clan' and mi is a common Tibeto-Burman noun root meaning 'person'.

Since I don't clearly don't have a village (or clan) and didn't really understand the question, my friend kindly replied on my behalf that I was aluchhephomi, much to the amusement of everyone in earshot. The word can be analysed morphologically as alu 'potato', chhepho 'to break asunder' and mi 'person'. So literally, 'potato smasher'. People here jokingly refer to people who don't know which village they (or their family) are from as aluchhephomi, people from this fabled distant village where the inhabitants smash potatoes, as opposed to doing something useful with them, like say... cooking?

Given my clanless and villageless status here, I guess for the timebeing I'm happy to embrace my potato smashing heritage.

What's the meaning of this?

One of the distinctive features of the Sumi language is its uvular stop series - a voiceless unaspirated uvular stop /q/ and a voiced aspirated uvular stop /qh/, which are produced by making a closure in the oral cavity (mouth) using the back of the tongue and the uvula (right at the back of the mouth). Having studied and taught phonetics, I am familiar with the mechanism of producing such stops, though mine are certainly not identical to those produced by native speakers.

Importantly, these uvular stops contrast with the velar stops /k/ and /kh/, meaning that there is a difference in meaning between words like akhi 'bee' and aqhi 'moon'.

I'm still having a lot of trouble asking in Sumi for the meaning of something - one of the most useful questions when you're studying a foreign language. Though there a few ways to do it, most forms go something like this:

Hi ye kiu kiqi kea?

I'd post an audio recording of how I say it, and how it should be said if I could.

Misty Zunheboto

The name Zunheboto, the name of both the town and district where most Sumis live in Nagaland, is derived from the nouns zünhebo ('ü' represents a high central unrounded vowel, and 'nh' a breathy alveolar nasal), which refers to a kind of flowering plant found in the area, and to, which refers to a 'hill' or 'ridge'.

Like most settlements in Nagaland, Zunheboto is located on top of a long ridge (people here tell me it's not a big town, just a 'long' one). Historically, these provided more security in the event of enemy raids, when tribal warfare was still practised for the purpose of taking land or taking heads, or both.







Zunheboto is pretty high in terms of elevation, and around this time of year it tends to get pretty cold (and windy) compared to other places in Nagaland. I'm told also that on a clear day, Mount Everest is visible from some parts of Zunheboto. I remain slightly skeptical because so far people have pointed in a direction that's been either too much to the southwest or northeast.

Of course, clear days here at this time of year are rare. My first few days here, I'd wake up most mornings to find a thick mist blanketing the valley below my lodge.





During the Ahuna festival, it would clear by afternoon, but since I moved to Zh.'s place, it just seems to get misty at all times of the day. The past two days, we've also had some pretty heavy showers at night and in the afternoon.

Well, here's to hoping for clearer skies (and fewer landslides)!

Ahuna Festival (III)

On the second day of the Ahuna Festival cum Road Show (or 'Road Show cum Ahuna'), it was back to the festival ground in the morning. This was actually the officially set date for the festival every year and there seemed to be more guests of honour than the previous day. I vividly recall hearing sirens coming from behind, signalling the arrival of the guest of honour, the Nagaland Minister for School Education Nyeiwang Konyak, who, as his name suggests, is Konyak, not Sumi.

Just when the day looked set for more school performances of war dances and speeches about how the young people need to contribute more to the state, the local sport council, which my friend Zh. is an active member of, put up a performance showing how some of the older sporting / warring traditions would be passed down to younger members of the community.

Older warriors teaching the younger ones how to perform a war dance, which is meant to frighten the enemy. (In truth it was very cute to watch the little boys perform.)





Another war dance


Warriors slicing up pieces of bamboo, which looks easy, but requires a lot of skill with a dao (a kind of knife). I also enjoyed watching the way they leapt after a successful chop. Reminded me a little of Ryu or Ken from the Streetfighter video games.



The traditional head gear of a rich and respected warrior - the headband itself is made from bear fur (taken from the neck of the bear I'm told). Wealthy and respected warriors also had the three hornbill feathers - and unlike most of the ones I saw that were made of cardboard, these ones here are real!



Later in the morning, a couple of traditional games were played. though not as many as in previous years, as I learnt from a DVD about the Ahuna Festival, also kindly gifted to me by Zh. The first game I saw is known as asü ilheche 'high jump'. In this competition, a bit of banana leaf is tied to the top of a spear. The objective is to jump up high enough to kick the banana leaf with both feet at the same time, which I thought was quite impressive.





Competitors awaiting their turn


The second game involved women competing by ululating, which is meant to be a form of encouragement for the male warriors, though it did draw a bit of laughter from the crowd (and the competitors themselves). I'm not quite sure how the judging was carried out though...



Me with Zh., his wife and his cousin


Me with some of the festival organisers.

Hornets for lunch?

As we sitting at one the stalls at the Ahuna festival drinking milk tea and snacking on beef liver and intestines (they do them so well here), I.'s cousin A. asked me if I'd ever tried 'hornets' or 'hornets larvae', I quickly said no. Within seconds, he'd gone up to a lady selling food wrapped in large leaves (the leaves are called aküghü in Sumi) and bought two. When he came back he told me, 'They were out of hornets, this is just fish.'

I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Did I just dodge a bullet, or was he pulling my leg? Not that I would mind trying hornets, I just thought an entire package of them would be a little too much. In any case, he said I didn't have to eat whatever was in the package there and then. So I said I'd wait (till I was somewhere more private).

When I got back to the Heritage tourist lodge (there was a break between the morning and evening programmes), I placed the package on the bed since I had no table inside, and - rather like a leopard - I didn't quite feel like eating in public.

I opened the package to find a small mound of rice, as is the fashion here, with a few pieces of pork fat, and another smaller leaf package.

And lo and behold, there were fish in the small package! They were small, and surprisingly easy to eat, the bones being small and soft. However, I still think some of my friends would be a little grossed out by the way the little fishies were staring at me as I ate them.

So those hornets for lunch will have to wait another day.

Ahuna Festival (II)

In the evening on the first day, it was back to the festival ground for a rather spectacular sunset and the second part of the programme - more songs and dances performed by schools, along with a singing competition and battle of the bands.



Again, I was slightly mortified (though not as much as during the Miss Sumi pageant) to see those same little girls from the Montessori school dancing to Shakira's 'Waka Waka'.



Most importantly, my friend Zh. (whose home I'm staying at this time) and his wife H.'s students were putting up a fashion show featuring Sumi outfits across time. This meant that I had a reason to hang out backstage and getting right to the front of the stage to help Zh. take photos - though I don't think my fashion photography skills are quite up to scratch.

Some of the students trying to keep warm backstage


A Flintstones take on ancient Sumi wear


The headhunter look - I'm currently sleeping in the bedroom where this head prop is being kept. It hasn't really creeped me out so far.


One of the most traditional Sumi costumes for men and women - note the pipe in the woman's mouth


Ignore the boxer shorts here.


A much more modern take on fashion here. (My first time here, I was surprised at how fashionably dressed young people were here) These outfits though aren't exactly casual wear.





This girl, who's apparently only 14 or 15, also worn the solo singing competition that night. She had a great voice.

Ahuna Festival (I)

On the first day of the 'official' Ahuna festival celebration I arrived at the festival / football ground in the late morning and quickly ran into my new friend I. who I'd met on the sumo ride from Kohima. He said that even though he was Sumi, this was his first time in Zunheboto and his first time attending the Ahuna celebrations here too. He works as a designer / advisor for the State Government, selecting and working with traditional designs. His work is based in Kohima, although he gets sent to other offices in the state.

I. with his cousin Ab. Behind them, the sign for 'Special Handloom Expo 2010' behind was some of I.'s work, using traditional Sumi designs (red lines on black are very popular on Sumi shawls).



We wandered around the grounds and watched a few performances, mostly done by students from local schools. There were a few traditional war dances, a mass dance (like the ones I used to have to do in school in Singapore) and a showcase of Sümi kiti do (or Naga kiti do), a kind of martial art based on traditional Sumi kick-fighting and developed as an 'indigenous martial art form' - the word do refers to 'way' or 'path', as in other martial arts like taekwando and akido.





Performers waiting their turn


The mass dance


Breaking boards


Self-defence, Sümi kithi do style


And just as I. was suggesting I take a photo with some boys who were dressed up in traditional warrior outfits, I happened to run into Hk., whose house I stayed at the last time I was in Zunheboto. The boys in warrior outfits were his students, and he kindly obliged a picture with me.



I almost feel like a foreign correspondant in this photo...


Hk.'s boys performing a war dance.

Out of Time (II)

Only this morning did I realise that my computer was still following Nepal time, which is 15 minutes ahead of India (Delhi) time. Incidentally, I'd be synchronising the time on my phones to my computer time, since it's often the case that when I switch on my phones, I don't have reception and can't synchronise with the local network. (Yes, I've got two phones in case the battery on one dies and there's no power around.)

That means for the past week and a bit, I've been living 15 minutes ahead of everyone, which would explain why I've felt like I've been waiting around for everyone!

On a more serious note, Nagaland, despite being further east than Nepal and Bangladesh, still follows Delhi time, which is 15 minutes behind Nepal and half an hour behind Bangladesh. That means, if I went due west (well west by southwest) from here, I'd be in a timezone that was half an hour ahead of where I currently am!

Also, if I went due east for just a few hundred kilometres into Burma, I'd be one hour ahead. But if I went due north into China, I'd be two and a half hours ahead of where I am.

The larger problem here is that a lot of daylight is wasted because schools only start at 8am Delhi time, while the sun rises around 4.30 / 5am and sets around 4.30 / 5pm. The shops in town all close around 3pm, which is also around the time that teachers finish work. So how on earth can they get their shopping done?

Ahuna significance

Given that I came to Zunheboto for the festival, I suppose I should first explain what the Ahuna festival is about (and drop the use of italics as well). My friend Zh., whose house I'm staying at, kindly gifted me a copy of his book on the Ahuna Festival - the Sumi Ahuna, which was published in 2009 and outlines the principal beliefs and practices around the Ahuna festival, and more generally, the traditional Sumi agricultural year.

The word ahuna can refer to a few things in Sumi. It can refer to: the festival itself; the Sumi equivalent of the month of November; and the newly harvested rice specially cooked in bamboo for the festival. Without going too much into etymology, the word can be analysed as a compound of ahu, which most people say refers to the bamboo vessel in which the rice is cooked and na, the noun root for 'cooked rice' in Sumi (Assumi 2009:12-13). The Ahuna festival is traditionally a post-harvest festival to give thanks for the current year's harvest and to pray for a good harvest the following year. The festival used to be celebrated after all the crops had been collected and stored in the granary over the course of at least three days, but now it is a largely symbolic occasion that has been officially scheduled to fall on the 14th of November by the State Government. While always an important festival, it is currently being marketed as the Sumis' 'main festival' of the year - in past years, it is my understanding that until fairly recently, this honour went to Tuluni, the pre-harvest festival held in July.

The cynic in me can't help but feel that the move was done primarily for reasons of marketability. The Nagaland State Government is trying to market the state as the 'Land of Festivals' (the annual Hornbill festival in Kohima is coming up in the first week of December, while the Chakhesangs just celebrated their 'fish' festival the other day). While both Ahuna and Tuluni are important Sumi festivals, I think Ahuna has been given more attention because of its proximity to the Hornbill Festival, making it more enticing for tourists to come a bit earlier and also because the town of Zunheboto is more accessible at this time of year than during the potentially wet month of July.

I'm really not sure what the 'Road Show' actually referred to - there were no vehicles on display, nor was the festival actually on the move.

Whatever the reason for the shift in attention, the cynic in me is scoffing at the fact that the main reason I'd come to Nagaland so early (more than two weeks before the Hornbill Festival) was for the Ahuna festival. It has given me more time to meet with members of the community who are interested in doing research on their language and cultural traditions.

Miss Sumi 2010

After 4 days of waking up early to spend 5-6 hours on the road and in the sky, I finally arrived in Zunheboto, Nagaland around 1.30pm on the 13th of November with a small dent in my head - life is tough when you can fall asleep in any moving vehicle, including a crowded sumo travelling on a winding and bumpy road. (A sumo is a term commonly used across the NE for a 4WD used to ferry people from town to town.) Despite my best efforts, I could not remain awake long enough to prevent my skull from knocking against the window. This is in stark contrast to my first time travelling down this road last February when I was absolutely terrified of everything, from the local police to the local militant factions.

After being treated to some tea and and ahuna, the name given to rice cooked in bamboo during the Sumi month of Ahuna, when the post-harvest festival Ahuna is celebrated - my principal reason for coming to Zunheboto at this time of year - I was asked if I wanted to attend the Miss Sumi 2010 beauty pageant later that afternoon. Having seen videos of a Miss Nagaland beauty pageant at the anthropological museum in Zurich back in December 2008, I was keen to attend despite my fatigue.

After squeezing through the Zunheboto town hall doors with our tickets, my hosts and I had to sit through a number of speeches thanking the numerous donors and 'sponsorers' (sic) before the actual pageant began.

It was pretty normal as pageants come. There was the ethnic costume round, the 'casual' round where the girls presumably chose their own 'modern' outfits, and the 'designer' round where they got to model outfits made by a local designer. The girls also had to introduce themselves and answers a few questions: two in English and one in Sumi.

My favourite for the evening was contestant 10, because she - wait for it - had recently completed an MA in Linguistics.

Much of the commentary seemed to focus on 'women's empowerment' and using this as a platform for that. However, as with most beauty pageants that claim to do so, I couldn't help but notice the large number of males in the audience oggling and catcalling at the participants, especially when they were in 'ethnic cosutme'.

The other thing I found slightly disturbing - the organisers clearly have never seen Little Miss Sunshine - was a performance by little girls from the local Montesorri school, dancing to the song "Shut Up and Bounce" from the Bollywood film Dostana.





I'm really sure if people quite understood the not-so-subtle subtext to that song:
"I feel it... I need it... Baby we can do it all night".

Add that to the little cosutmes the girls were in, and I can't imagine how parents in the West (except maybe in America) would ever approve of such a performance. But it clearly didn't seem to phaze the audience here, and even when I show the video to people here, everyone seems to think it's just a very cute performance.

I was really grateful to be able to attend the event, especially given that tickets cost 500 Rs to admit two. There were some complaints about the sound operators this year, especially when they stuffed up the actual Ahuna festival sound the following two days. But who would've thought, I actually got to attend a beauty pageant in Nagaland.

And of course, the winners for the evening (with Miss Sumi 2010 right in the middle)

Gash in the bag

After singing praises of Delhi's new domestic terminal, I caught my Jet Airways (actually Jet Konnect) flight to Guwahati, made my way to my hotel and as I was about to check in, I noticed a small gash in the cloth bit at the top of my bag. Strange, I thought, but then again it might have just torn a little bit in transit.

I decided to open it up to see if anything had fallen out, but suddenly found my old combination didn't work anymore. I tried not to get frantic as I was right in the middle of checking into my room. Also, the bag still felt as heavy as when I left it, and there wasn't anything inside that I would be too upset over losing.

Still, it's one of the worst things to to discover, especially when you're travelling alone, you've just arrived in a new city (albeit one you've been to before), your mobile phone has stopped working (the sim I bought in Delhi doesn't work in the North-East), and it's already late in the afternoon and you're meant to leave early the next morning.

At one point the guy at reception gave me a list of airline phone numbers and I found myself dialling both the Jet Airways airport and city offices, but getting no response.

After putting my bags in the room, the hotel manager suggested I go to the Jet Airways office in the city, with the bag. So off I went in an auto (they're the same as Thai tuk-tuks), and got to the office with about half an hour before closing time. The lady at the desk told me that because I had already left the airport, there was very little they could do. I said all I needed was a form or something to give to my insurance company, but there were rules. Still, she put me through to someone who worked at the airport office who told me he'd do what he could and ring me at the hotel in half an hour.

So it was back to the hotel with the bag. No call, as I expected. But I figured I needed to open my old suitcase and get a new bag. The hotel bellboy brought me to a nearby bag shop where he explained the situation to the shopkeeper who proceeded to use a knife to pry the lock open. At the same time, I found a new bag (a very big duffel) which I was offered 550 Rs for, so I just slumped to the floor and looked like I was about to cry, and he gave it to me for 450 - still a bit steep I thought, but there was only so far I was willing to go with the pathetic act.

As for Jet Airways, I finally got on to them from a nearby PCO (phone). The guy at the airport said he could send me some form but that I was no longer eligible for compensation, given that I had left the airport and that there were 'rules'. I said that was fine, because I just needed something for my insurance company and that there wasn't a police station nearby where I could report this - I'm not really sure what I'll need, but something's better than nothing. Technically, nothing was stolen, but the bag has been damaged.

So now I need to call the guy at Jet Airways again, once I have a local mailing address for him. Not sure if he'll send the form, but it's worth a shot. I am half tempted to use the same suitcase I've lugged it with me to Nagaland with the duffel inside - on my next flight back.

New territory new SIM

People in NE India often refer to the rest of India as the 'mainland'. It didn't take long for the feeling that I was is in different country to sink in, especially when I landed at Guwahati Airport to find that my recently purchased Airtel sim card from Delhi no longer worked. Clearly, reports that sim cards from elsewhere in India worked in Assam had been greatly exaggerated.

Of course, the last time I was here, I bought two sim cards - one from Kerala and one from Shillong in Meghalaya. Both didn't work in Assam. On the other hand, the one from Shillong worked fine here in Nagaland and so I assumed it was just an Assam thing.

Wrong again. The Airtel sim card I got from Delhi is no good throughout the NE, Nagaland included, which meant I had to buy a new sim card (which only works in the NE). The lady at the Airtel office close to my hotel informed me I needed a copy of my passport, identity card, proof of residence (she assumed I was an Indian citizen) and 4 passport photos. Of course, all I had at hand was a copy of my passport, visa and 3 passport photos - most places make an exception for foreigners regarding the proof of residence, but they don't get many foreigners passing through here.

So what to do? Somehow, by surprising her by the fact that I had travelled here alone, that I was here for a whole month, that I was here for the Hornbill Festival, and that I had Sema and Angami friends, and that I knew some Sema / Sumi (one of her colleagues was from the main Sema town Zunheboto) the woman at the office let me have a sim card that had already been activated under someone's name! No need for all that paperwork, just a brand new sim and as much credit as I was willing to pay.

And now I have a working phone again.

Assamese violence

The BBC report on yesterday's attacks in Assam states they were conducted by a faction of the National Democratic Front of Bodoland (NDFB) who are trying to derail peace talks between the moderate NDFB faction and the Indian government.

The article opens by saying that:

Police told the BBC that a group of heavily armed guerrillas waylaid the bus and opened fire indiscriminately.

However, in an article in the Nagaland Post, it was reported that:

They [the guerillas] lined up the passengers and took away the Hindi-speaking people to the forest and shot them. “The NDFB fired at the bus, forcing the driver to stop, after which the militants lined up all the passengers on the road and took away at least 10 of them at gunpoint,” a senior police official said..

The report then reiterates that:

"All the dead were Hindi-speaking people hailing from Bihar and were Arunachal Pradesh government employees," Assam police chief Shankar Baruah told IANS.

The Nagaland Post's report actual makes more sense, given that the BBC also claims that:

Police say the rebels appear to be on a "revenge killing spree" after last week threatening to kill "at least 20 Indians" to avenge the death of their commander, Mohan Basumatary, in a clash last month.

If these were revenge attacks, and the militants had specific targets in mind, the initial report of indiscriminate shooting in the BBC article certainly needs some clarification.

I won't be travelling through Bodo regions. However, I will be going to Karbi Anglong, where a friend lives, and they have similar organisations / factions within organisation with similar goals of independence. Guwahati, where I am heading today, has also seen its fair share of violence over the past few years.

But I think the situation is slightly better in the metropolitan areas (compared to places like Mumbai) and I'll be with people who know the area too.

Connecting to the internet in South Asia

About a week ago in Nepal, I realised that I couldn't view Lauren's blog, except via an RSS reader. The reason was that Blogger had been blocked by the Nepalese government, or at least some sites with 'blogspot' in their URLs had come up on their new list of banned 'p0rn' sites, leading to a blanket ban on all our blogs with that domain name.

Weird and Funny World, a Nepal-based blog I've been following provided some coverage of this. Earlier there was also a suggestion that cybercafes in Nepal check their clients' ID in a bid to control 'cyber crime'.

India already does this sort of the control, though probably not on the same scale as China. At the cybercafes I've been to here, I'd had to present my passport (which some places photocopy) just so I can get online for 30 minutes. I am reminded of this level of control, because just to access the free wi-fi here at Delhi's new Indira Gandhi Airport domestic terminal, I had to log in with my new Airtel mobile number and then make a request to have another separate username and password via SMS (I remember a similar process at Bangalore airport last year) before finally being able to connect. Airtel also has a copy of my passport, visa and my photo, which you need to submit just to get a sim card.

Given that phones have been used in terrorist attacks to detonate bombs I suppose it's not an uncommon occurrence in most countries these days. You need some sort of ID to buy a prepaid mobile sim card in Singapore and Australia. I'm also sure there's some kind of registration to use Changi Airport's free wifi, though I suspect not quite as convoluted as the Indian system. I think I'm just too used to being able to connect to close to a dozen wi-fi networks in Kathmandu's Thamel district with just a network key.

Hmmm, my flight to Guwahati's been delayed by 40 minutes. More time on the internet for me.

Welcome to Delhi

My arrival at the new Delhi International Airport started out well enough. The new terminal is much better than the current Kolkata Airport which I flew in and out of last year. The only thing that bugged me was that it took forever to get from the gate to the immigration counter, and yet we still had to wait about 20 minutes for our baggage - I calculated about 45 minutes from the time of the plane's arrival.

I had arranged an airport pick-up with my hotel (Rak International Hotel) - an exorbitant 600 Rs, considering it only takes about 250-300 Rs to get from the airport to the Paharganj, but I didn't really want the hassle of haggling with a taxi driver and having to pay additional tips and what not. Thankfully, my pick-up was there when I arrived, given that the plane was about an hour late in leaving Kathmandu. The driver seemed friendly enough and we chatted a little in my broken Hindi / Nepali (he understood ali ali) and English.

The first sign something was wrong was when I first saw the car. It looked ordinarily enough, apart from all the dents in the doors, the back and the front (basically everywhere). It was particularly obvious, given that all the surrounding SUVs looked brand new and spotless. But I still put my stuff in the back and got in.

The driver then pokes his head in the window and tells me I need to get out. To help him push he car. It seemed the car battery had been giving him some grief today and the car needed a push start. Eventually, he managed to get the security guard to help us as well, and we got the car all the way to the downward ramp, which gave the car the boost it needed.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I asked the driver if the battery would be a problem later. He unhesitatingly said, 'Yes'.

We were in the far right lane of a busy road in heavy traffic when the battery died again. Out we got to push the car to the side of the road. Never mind the big buses and trucks trying to run us down. A police officer directed us to a small turn-off and there we stopped the car. My driver did what he could to restart the battery but eventually decided to call for a taxi from the airport to pick me up.

We waited by the side of the road for another 20 minutes. In that time, my driver's mobile phone battery died too (I was sensing a pattern) and I told him my Nepali sim card didn't work in India. But the taxi came, and I got in, after being assured that the hotel would pay for the taxi.

As I got in, the driver reassuringly said that his taxi would run out of petrol in about 10 or 15 minutes. Great, I thought. But at least we stopped for petrol at a petrol kiosk, not on the side of the road. And at least he didn't ask for more money.

But when we got to Paharganj, he stopped the taxi about 10 minutes from the hotel (I had a pretty good idea where I was thanks to my GPS), and insisted that we couldn't drive any further and he'd have to take me on foot. It was a little suspicious. He then asked me for 'driver tips' and I pretended not to understand. I was little annoyed because I couldn't get any further without giving the guy some cash. I said 50 rupees, but he insisted on 100, and since I didn't have change and wasn't sure where the hotel was exactly, I relented.

So off we went down the main Bazaar Road in Paharganj where he deposited me at then Rak International Hotel, where I proceeded to check in, after complaining about the drive in (especially the having to push the stupid car). I had previously mentioned in my email to them that I wanted a regular room for 450 Rs/night, but was willing to look at the deluxe (750 Rs/night). (I had sent a few emails, but only got a reply after mentioning that I was willing to look at the deluxe.) Surprise surprise, they had me down for a deluxe, and no regular rooms were available.

I then mentioned the ride again and told the guy in English, with a few smatterings of Hindi, that he needed to lower the price. I wasn't paying 600 Rs, especially after the car broke down and I had to push it twice. He said he'd talk to the driver and we'd settle it later. (I then heard him on the phone yelling at someone about a gaDii 'car' that was kharab 'bad'.

When I next came down, the guy at reception said there was no way he could lower the price. After all, my driver had got me to the hotel. Of course, from my point of view, I'd paid the exorbitant 600 Rs (instead of 250 or 300 Rs) for a comfortable and reliable service - not something that required me to get out of a car and push. I also mentioned the fact that I had to pay the driver a 100 Rs tip, which the reception guy said I shouldn't have paid. Well duh, but how else was I going to reach the hotel?

In the end, we bargained it down to 500 Rs. I've got a deluxe room which looks like a cheap honeymoon suite (the bed is circular! - will need to post a picture at some point). I've also got an airport drop-off tomorrow for a more reasonable 250 Rs, but goodness knows if that car won't break down too.

Yup, welcome back to India.

Farewell Nepal

After 6 wonderful weeks here in Nepal, thanks to Lauren and Sara, and especially to our Nepali friends L. and S., it's time to say goodbye. My Nepali isn't fantastic, but a few more months of classes and it should become passable. At least I'm quite proficient when talking about my family.

I think learning Nepali will prove to more useful than I thought, especially given the large number of Nepalis in NE India (though I might eventually have to learn Assamese and Nagamese). Tomorrow though, I'm going to have to try and squeeze in a little Hindi for my one night in Delhi - I'm still not sure about my accommodation because the hotel hasn't got back to me to confirm my booking. If they don't show up, I'll just get a pre-paid taxi and head to Paharganj myself.

I'm looking forward to getting back to Nagaland on Thursday. There's a Sumi Ahuna harvest festival on the weekend called which I would like to attend (apparently it's become the 'main' Sumi festival of the year, superseding the Tuluni festival which takes place in July.) The annual Hornbill Festival in Kohima is also coming in December where representatives from all the tribes of Nagaland come to the capital to perform traditional dances and other things - I'm not really sure how I feel about this one, because from what I've heard it's mostly for the benefit of tourists.

I also realise that to some of you it may seem that all I do is attend festivals, and you would be right. It just so happens that October and November are festival-heavy months here in Nepal - Dashain and Tihar being the main national festivals for the year. They are Hindu festivals, but most Buddists also observe them to some extent. On the other hand, Mani Rimdu up in Solukhumbu is a Buddhist festival and is more important to the Sherpas and Tibetans.

Alright, time for bed. I've had a fantastic time in Nepal, made some great contacts and might have a potential language project or two to get involved with if I wanted to - I still envisage my PhD project will look at multiple language projects, not just one. And I don't think this will be my last time here.

By the way, 2011 is Visit Nepal Tourism Year - visas to enter the country next year are going to be free! (I'm not sure how the country is going to cope with a surge in tourist numbers though...)

Everest View Hotel location

I mentioned that the Everest View Hotel is difficult to find without a guide, and especially without (m)any clear signs to it from Namche. Even people who rely on Google Earth are being misled!

I'm sure there's no mistake with my marker (in yellow) and GPS map, as this was the second time I had tracked my journey to the Everest View Hotel, and via a different route to boot. Someone at Google Earth needs to be informed about this...

*****

If you're looking for directions to the Everest View Hotel from Namche Bazaar (this doesn't exactly follow the path I took, but with a little luck it should get you there):

First, head towards the town exit for the road that leads towards Tengboche, Gokyo etc. You should see a large mani stone on the right and a small fence with a gate on the left. Behind the gate are some pretty steep steps. Follow the steps till you reach a plateau area where you'll see the Syangboche airstrip on the left and a small ridge in front of you.

Do not walk towards the airstrip. Instead, you should see a building in front of you up on the ridge. There should be a path leading towards the building - if you can't find it, make one. Once you get to the building, you can either take the path on the left path leading through a bit of forest, or you can follow the edge of the ridge to your right. Either way, you should soon see another building on your left (I think it's called the Syangboche Panorama Hotel, but it looked closed when I was there). From this building, there should be a path on your right that follows the edge of the ridge.

Follow the path till you get to a grassy field. You should already be able to see the Everest View Hotel by now. Simply cross the field and follow the steps, which should take you right to the hotel's front door.)

Everest View Hotel

Backtracking a little to Khumbu (the Everest region), there's one place in particular that requires special mention: the Everest View Hotel. It's the highest hotel in the world and not only does the place provide a wonderful view of Ama Dablam and Lhotse (oh, and Everest), but it's notoriously difficult to find without a guide, as Lauren can attest.

The view from the hotel - Ama Dablam on the far left, Lhotse in the middle and Everest just to the left.


Everest, with Lhotse to the right






Of course the view isn't always great, especially on cloudy days. Also by afternoon, you often get clouds coming in from the South (at least at this time of year) It's not so nice, but at least you can still see Ama Dablam here:


But when the weather is good, even the reflection in the glass is magnificent.


Sara had a little argument with a lady at the guest lodge in Khumjung who was complaining that the hotel was an 'abortion', what with its white concrete steps and 'Western-ness'. Of course, the hotel was built by a Japanese company and opened in 1973. As for the 'white concrete steps', here they are:



And I agree with Sara that in terms of design, it blends in quite well with its surroundings.

भाई टिका (Bhai Tika)

Yesterday was Bhai Tika day, the last day of Tihar,when each bhai 'younger brother' receives tika from their sister(s). I was given the honour of being S.'s adopted little brother, so I got to receive tika, among other things.

Quite a bit of preparation is required to give this tika, which is not like the red dots that the mad saddhus (holy men / crazy ascetics) dish out to tourists on the streets.



The set-up requires a carpet (for the brother to sit on), along with a whole lot of other stuff in front of it. To the best of my knowledge, starting at the back on the left, there's white powder on the floor making a half-face, a guava, a pomelo, a butter candle, a small jar of water, a bowl of curd, a small plant (not sure if it's barley) stuck in a bit of cow dung, a bell, and a pot with some water and marigolds (with stalks). In front of these from the left are a plate of grain, a large plate of marigold petals, more white powder making another face (and a sun I suppose), and a plate of oil. (I'm not sure what the significance of most of these items are - something to do a bit of research on later.)

The sister starts off the ceremony by walking around the brother three times, sprinkling water on the floor and door. She then repeats this with oil. She then rubs some of the oil in his hair, around his ears, and in his ear. I was reminded of this oil afterwards when I used my mobile. She then places red-stained grain on his head, shoulders, elbows, palms, knees and feet - basically the joints and extremities. This is then repeated using marigold petals.



After this, a multi-coloured tika is applied to the forehead.



A purple malla is placed around the neck, followed by a topi (Nepali hat) on the head. The sister then feeds the brother some curd (not putting that picture up) and presents him with a huge plate of food - I had a mountain of fruit and deep-fried shel roti (see Lauren's post on this) with nuts, dried fruit and sweets, which I'm still working through today.

The brother then places tika on the sister's forehead and gives her a present (like a little envelope containing some money). He then gets to finish the curd he was given previously, and food is served! (I was quite hungry by that point because I'd thought that we'd be having breakfast first. Apparently, no food is to be consumed prior to receiving tika so all we got was a cup of milk coffee to tide us over till lunch.)



Lauren, Sara and me - after Lauren and Sara got to give L. tika.
(Thanks go to Lauren and Sara for most of the photos. Many thanks to L. and S. for the priviledge of getting tika on Bhai Tika day,)