How to post a wood plate (the saga continues)

Last year at the Hornbill Festival I bought a wood plate (asükhu in Sumi) and tried to send it to Singapore.

The parcel was never delivered, even though I paid for registered mail at the India Post office here in Kohima. Why? They didn't give me the customs forms to fill in, and it didn't occur to me at the time either (you expect post offices to know this sort of stuff).

And this was the state in which the parcel was sent back to my friend's address. The packaging had never been good to begin with, but the cloth looked filthy and the box was bulging more than when I sent it off.

On opening the parcel, I found the sides of the plate had chipped.

So I bought a new, slightly smaller, wood plate at this year's Hornbill Festival. It was nicer than the one I bought last year but this is more ornamental because the top surface is polished, as opposed to last year's one which one could still eat out of.

I then walked around NST Road looking for cellophone, banner cloth and red sealing wax. I also got a box from Cana's stall that day and with the help of my friends spent a hours that evening packaging the new wood plate. We used lots of styrofoam and newspaper, but the sewing bit and melting the sealing wax took ages. I find the concept of sending cloth-wrapped and wax-sealed parcels in India slightly outdated - what's wrong with a cardboard box and cellotape?

In any case, voilà, this was what the finished parcel looked like (before I'd written down the destination and return-to-sender addresses all over the box.)

So the next morning, which happened to be the final day of the Hornbill Festival, I got to the post office, happy with the packaging and ready to send it off.

The lady at the counter gave it one look and said I couldn't the parcel, because of the cloth packaging.

I was confused and indignant - since I started visiting India, I've been told me every time at the post office to go through the whole tedious process of getting my parcels wrapped and stitched up. And now that I'd gone through the effort to do it, this lady was telling me they wouldn't accept. What's more, everyone around me was still sending their parcels cloth-wrapped and wax-sealed.

According to her, it was a recent directive that all international parcels had to be in 'carton boxes' without cloth packaging. She then pointed at a sign somewhere in the office that apparently stated this, but my eyes never found it. She then said I needed to remove the cloth covering, write the address on a piece of paper and paste it on the box.

It sounds simple enough, except: (a) I had no stationery on me so I would have had to go down the hill to look for a shop, while carrying the parcel; (b) it would have taken me at least an hour to get everything done and the line at the post office was only getting longer (and I really wanted to get back to Kisama that day); and (c) I had gone through the bloody effort of packaging the box according to what are the usual requirements in India! I'm not even sure that another office in a different city would even be following these new directives.

So what did I do? I put on my 'most pathetic foreigner' (I'm not proud of it, but sometimes it's the only way to get what you want.) Eventually, some kind lady directed me to the back office to speak with the 'Ma'am' on duty. I explained the situation to her and she said kindly that the problem was foreign countries didn't like the cloth packaging (quelle surprise) because they were worried about the spread of infections! However, since I'd gone through the effort of packaging it, they would accept my parcel this time. However, in future I should just package it in a carton box with cellotape (mais avec plaisir Madame).

Triumphant, I returned to the first counter I went to, and after 25 minutes of waiting around again, managed to send it off, customs forms filled in and all.

So now, Singapore Post, you better bloody well accept the parcel!

On the road: Nagaland (II)

So I'm stranded in Kohima for the foreseeable future. My ride from Zunheboto never materialised, but at least I'm not in a hurry anymore. I was originally meant to go to a village called Chishilimi tomorrow to watch them perform a traditional rain invocation ceremony (although it's an odd time of year to do it). Also, getting around the state in hired vehicles at this time of year is an absolute nightmare because everyone's going home for Christmas, including people living outside the state as well as people finishing their Christmas shopping in Dimapur.

In the meantime, to mark the fact that I'm not moving out of Kohima, I thought I'd post some photos from when we drove from Zunheboto to the village of Khetoi and few weeks back to watch some of the villagers rehearse for the Hornbill Festival.

We had to descend into the Tizu River valley, then come up again towards the town of Aghunato, following the road to Kiphire, which is the main town of the district (of the same name) to the east of Zunheboto district.




The Tizu flows south and then east, eventually ending up in the Chindwin which flows into the Irrawaddy. The first major river to the west of Zunheboto town is the Doyang which flows north into the Brahmaputra. That means that most of Zunheboto district is actually part of the watershed between these two major river systems.

A picnic by the river would be nice. If only there was time.

And transport.

Dilai Gate Sunday Market out of Dimapur

I'm meant to be going down to Dimapur at some point today, if my ride from Zunheboto actually comes to pick me up from Kohima. (We're meant to be picking up some people in Dimapur before heading back to Zunheboto tomorrow.) Anyway, to mark my potential arrival in Dimapur on a Sunday, I thought I'd share some pictures that I took 2 weeks ago when I was in Dimapur. (It's pretty photo-heavy, so apologies to people with a slow internet connection.)

The friend I was staying with in Dimapur brought me to the Sunday market just outside Dilai Gate on the road to Diphu, which technically means it's in Assam, not Nagaland. There's a sign that says 'A K Market' but most of my friends (even the ones in Kohima) know it as the Dilai Gate Market.



It's pretty much strewn next to the side of the road, which happens to be a national highway...


At the market, you can find your usual vegetables.


Gourds.


Local varieties of ginger and garlic.


And little chillis - these are more like bird's eye chillis, they aren't bhut jolokia / Naga King chillis.


Lots of spices


And other dried stuff. I noticed a lot of dried fish especially.




People were frying up sweets and selling them, alongside different kinds of bhujia.


They also had baskets for sale.


There was a somewhat carnival atmosphere, with one man selling balloons.


And another one selling cotton candy. (Note the massive truck on the right - did I mention this was on a national highway?)


Some ladies were making pithas (made from rice flour and coconut) as well. Maybe someone can tell me the name for this type of pitha.


Then of course, there were the more exotic 'meats'. My friend reckons these are silk worms, but they look slightly different to the ones I ate when I was in Diphu.


There were beecombs, filled with tasty grubs (I imagine).


And some jungle spiders - I have tried spider before, when I was in Zunheboto last year, but I don't know if they were the same variety as these. There were also grasshoppers, but I can't seem to find photos of those...


The less exotic meats were much more popular. There was fresh fish from the many rivers and lakes of Assam.


There were live chickens for sale.


As well as dead ones.


Almost all the butchery was done on site. I saw a few goats having their throats slit.


We had goat curry for lunch that day.


The most popular meat was (surprise, surprise) pork. Here, unlike with the chickens and goats, there were mini-barricades set up to keep customers out of the pig butchering area. I was told that the reason for this was that previously, people would rush in and grab the choicest parts so the barricades were set up to keep pushy (we'd say kiasu in Singapore) customers out.


So there you have it. A typical Sunday morning in Dimapur.

Except, well, without going to church...

Angamis, Aos, Sumis and Lothas - Identity

Last week I caught a taxi back from Midland in Kohima. Some Sumi friends accompanied me to the taxi stand to help me negotiate a fare, but I was headed for Bara Bosti, the original Kohima village, which is almost exclusively Angami for historical reasons. The taxi driver, who turned out to be Lotha (another major tribe of Nagaland) was confused and asked me if I was Angami or Sema (Sumi).

It's quite a telling question - even in 'mixed' cities like Dimapur and Kohima, tribal identity is still very important to most people. Most people want to know what tribe someone else is from. Given that Nagaland's not a big state and I suppose this is also about identity negotiation within the very heterogeneous social fabric of the place. Even within each tribe, people will be curious about the village or clan you're from? Last year in Zunheboto, I was asked Khuuno ghami kea? 'Which village are you from?' when I first met someone, before my friend had to explain that I wasn't even from Nagaland.

Often people can tell someone's tribe by looking at physical features, picking up on sociolinguistic cues, or knowing the other person's name. As a last resort, they might just ask someone outright what tribe they're from (like I was asked). I've been told many times that physically, I'm too tall to be a Sumi. Also, despite all attempts at getting a tropical tan, my skin is still 'too fair' to be either Angami or Sumi. One Angami friend reckons that I have the height and facial features of an Angami, but my 'fair' skin makes me look more like an Ao.

These 'rules' (for want of a better word) often strike me as fairly arbitrary. It's true that I tower over most people in Zunheboto (the headquarters of the Sumi-dominated district), but I've met Sumis who I'd consider to be just as 'fair' as me. It's also not as if all Angamis are tall - given that the capital city Kohima is in Angami territory, better nutrition in recent history might have resulted in some people gaining in stature, but only in certain pockets of the population.

My Sumi, Angami and Ao friends often have things to say about the 'character' of people from other tribes. They're gross generalisations, but I find such perceptions of other tribes interesting.

To avoid offending any particular tribe, I'm just going to rely on a song composed by an Angami person named Zutakherie. It's a pretty famous song in Nagaland (I can't find any videos of it on Youtube though). The title can be translated as 'Residents of Kohima' / 'People living in Kohima'.

Kohima te thakia khan composed by Zutakherie

Kohima te thakia khan
Nisa lake phutani,
Wokha pura ahia khan
chalak, chalak ahise,
Mokokchung thakia khan
style kuri ahise,
Zunheboto pura ahia khan jagara,
Sop jati Kohima te jama kurise,
Kohima Nagaland capital,
Naga manu misa-mishi ofis te najailebi
tolop pai - Nagaland city kuribole.

Loosely translated (suggestions, especially for the last two lines, are welcome since my Nagamese isn't good):
Kohima residents
Get drunk and feel proud
People coming from Wokha
Are very cunning / come with their tricks (?).
Mokokchung residents
Come in style
People from Zunheboto come fighting / arguing.
All tribes gather in Kohima,
Kohima the capital of Nagaland.
Nagas casually don't go to work / office
(But still) draw a salary - (in so doing, they are) making a Nagaland city.

So there you have it:
The Angamis (the traditional residents of Kohima) are drunkards, the Lothas (from Wokha) are liars and tricksters, the Aos (from Mokokchung) are overly concerned with fashion, and the Sumis (from Zunheboto) are a rowdy violent bunch.

All according to the song of course.

Hornbill Festival 2011 - Favourite things

So now that the Hornbill Festival is over for 2011, with the final bonfire and mass dance.





To mark the end of the festival, I thought I'd put together a list of favourite things from this year:

Rice beer: Angami
Now I don't drink, but my friend had been sampling the various rice beers from different tribes. She decided that the one from the Angami house was her favourite, and I'll take her word for it.

Singing: Chakhesang
I'd put a video up if my internet connection wasn't so slow. Also, I don't think I have a particularly good video of any of their performances. But there's something about the harmony that I find very pleasing. Even many of my Sumi and Angami friends will tell me that the Chakhesangs are some of the best singers in Nagaland.


Shawl design: Khiamniungan
This particular shawl design is actually quite similar to one particular Sumi shawl that I have. The most noticeable difference is that the Khiamniungan has many more of those rectangular red patches. Those red patches on the black background make it the most appealing shawl for me.


Morung models: Ao
Every festival, each tribe needs to have people stand around their model morungs to take photos with tourists. I'm calling them 'morung models'. This year, I thought the young Ao guy and girl made a particularly cute couple, even if they're not a couple in real life. They even thanked me when I took and showed them this photo, so I had to say that I was the one who ought to be thanking them. (It's sort of fitting too, given that the word 'morung' comes from the Ao language.)


Full outfit: Lotha
This Lotha man kindly posed for my photo, although I think he'd been asked to many times during the week. For some reason, it actually reminds me of some sort of military uniform. I thought it really suited him. And the beard didn't hurt either.


Hospitality: Sumi
Well, you might say I'm a little biased here, and you'd be right. Canato did let me leave my stuff at his stall all day while I went walking / hiking around. But also on my visits to the Sumi morung / house, I'd be offered milk tea and Sümi sho 'Sumi bread'. The man in the photograph with me is one of the chief of Khetoi village, which we visited a few weeks ago so we could watch them rehearse for Hornbill Festival. He usually leads the performances, and when we went to visit his village, he was tasked with introducing us over the loudspeaker. On the 2nd last day of the festival, I was very touched when he asked to take a photo with me. However, since the photo was on my camera, I quickly printed out a copy for him to take home.

Animals at the Jew

Two days ago I was running around Kohima town looking for three things: white (banner) cloth, cellotape, and red sealing wax. Why? Remember the wood plate I tried to send last year? It ended up getting sent back to my friends' in Kohima because the post office failed to give me a customs declaration form to sign.

After what looked like a bumpy ride, the plate got chipped pretty badly so I bought a new one. This time, I wanted to package it better, so my friends in Kohima suggested I purchase these three things and do the packaging at home. And yes, it's still common practice in South Asia to use red sealing wax when you're making a parcel.

The cloth and cellotape were no problem, but I needed red sealing wax and none of the stationery shops I visited carried any. Eventually one guy (who was probably of Hindi-speaking background), told me to go to the 'Air to Jed' shop a little further down on NST road.

Air to Jed?

It took a few seconds, but somehow it clicked - I was looking for the 'A to Z' stationery shop.

There are two issues here. One, in standard varieties of English, the letter 'A' is pronounced as a diphthong like [eɪ]. This guy was saying producing with a monophthong [ɛ], which I heard as 'air'.

The second issue was that he substituted the 'z' sound [z] for the 'j' sound [ʤ]. This is actually quite common in widely spoken Indic languages, including Hindi, Nepali and Assamese. In these languages, the 'z' and 'j' sounds are what we call in free variation, meaning that if you swap one sound for the other, it doesn't change the meaning of a word, nor does it make the word nonsensical. For example, the word for 'table' in Hindi can be pronounced as both mez and mej. In the Bollywood film Salaam Namaste (which is set in Melbourne), one of the characters constantly pronounces 'exactly' as 'egg-Jack-Lee'.

Similarly, to this man giving me directions, 'Zed' and 'Jed' are effectively the same word.

Of course, to native English speakers, this can have even more humorous effects. A few weeks ago in Assam, I had to sit through a whole conversation with a friend who was telling me about the how he used to live next to the 'Guwahati Jew' and a soccer ball once accidentally went into the 'Jew'.

Thank goodness my time in Nepal had already taught me that in many parts of South Asia, a 'Jew' is where animals are kept.

Above the Kisama Heritage Village

On Day Five of the Hornbill Festival, I decided to take a short walk up the hill behind the Kisama Heritage Village. It wasn't sunny but I felt the need for some proper exercise and I'd rather it to be cool when I have to do exercise. (One reason I enjoy staying with my friends in Bara Bosti here in Kohima, is that I have to climb up the hill to get back.)

So after running into a Sumi friend who then pointed me in the direction of the path up the hill, the sign I found said that it was 1.85km to the top of 'Mt Kisama'. I'm a little confused about this, because later there was another sign that said 'Mezabo Hill'. I'm going to have to find someone from Phesama village to explain this...



The walk itself was pleasant enough. Some parts of the track were quite slippery. I didn't have shoes with good traction, so I ended up taking more time to come down than I did going up.




Just a little way up the hill and I was already treated to a great view of the heritage village, with the nearby village of Kigwema (I believe)on the ridge in the background. Below the village, the terraced fields are pretty impressive (and pretty too).




At the top of the hill, which seemed to be called 'Mezabo', there was a nice little picnic area that seemed to be maintained by the nearby village of Phesama.






There was also a little lookout pavilion next to the picnic area.


From the lookout, I could see Phesama below and Kohima in the distance. Sadly, the whole valley was covered in cloud / mist at the time, so the photos weren't great.


On my way back down the hill, I spoke to some of the Assam Rifles soldiers who were on duty. A Bengali guy from Kolkata sat me down and offered me a cup of black tea. My knees needed a break and I was starting to feel cold, so I said yes. Also, I try not to reject any offers made by men holding semi-automatic weapons.

We spoke for a few minutes, mostly in English and he told me how he'd been posted to Nagaland for the last 7 years. I ended up taking a photo with him and with the younger soldier who was on duty with him. The younger guy was from the Khiamniungan tribe, a 'minor' Naga tribe from the eastern part of the state. Incidentally, I have to admit that Khiamniungan men's shawls are my favourite among the Naga tribes, but sadly I didn't know how to say it in Nagamese.

In the end, the young guy took out his mobile phone and took a picture of us as well. I'm glad he did - after all, why should foreigners be the only ones with photos to show their friends back home?