Teej

Teej is a Nepali holiday I have come to enjoy or at least appreciate. When I first heard about Teej, it was described as a husband worshiping, fasting holiday for married women only. I thought, ‘well, this feminist will never participate in Teej!’ Now that Teej has come and gone, it was actually really fun, and I’ve had a sort of change of heart, if you will, towards the holiday. It helps that I have returned to a Gurung household because they celebrate all the fun parts of Teej and none of the unsettling (i.e. fasting for the wellbeing of one’s husband) parts of Teej –they are very proud of this as well. Gurungs explain this holiday as mahilako bidaa (women’s holiday or festival). Doing a little further research on the web, I’ve read different interpretations of the holiday. One interpretation I found read pretty well, “Teej is a festival celebrated by Nepali women, for the long life of her husband and the long and firm relationship between them until the death this life and all the lives to come. Teej is observed for marital happiness, well-being of spouse and children and purification of own body and soul. Teej is the most famous festival among women in Nepal.” The article also said that Teej got its name from a small red insect that comes out of the soil during the rainy season - interesting titbit. During Teej lots of red is worn – red tikka, saris, and bracelets. 

Me putting a smile on my face while I wear a sari. 

Like most Nepali holidays, they happen for consecutive days with different events happening each day. Teej lasts three days. However, the first day my village celebrated was a week before the actual holiday with a huge party at my old host family’s house. I had just returned from vacation and was about to move (yes, for the third time, but this time should be the last, thank goodness) host families. My friend, Melissa, came with me to help me move and settle into my new place. It’s always good to have a sathi (friend) with you during these transitions. Lots of awkward turtle moments! Anywho, that morning at breakfast it dawned on me that this party could be a very small party, and I shouldn’t worry, or a very huge party, and I should be language-ready. Well, it was the later, and I was nowhere near language-ready. After not speaking Nepali for about 15 days, I need about 2-3 days in village to get back into language. When we arrived it was a HUGE party. Tent, food, at least 40 women in saris, a giant speaker playing music, a Didi announcing song changes and events, and a video camera crew. I was not prepared for this. I tried to duck out of the way, but no one can miss the two tall, white American females walking into a Nepali party. Everyone was asking why I was late, to which I couldn’t admit that I was having anxiety about returning to site in Pokhara. So I just acted like I couldn’t hear them over the loud music. Melissa and I were not only not language-ready, we also were sweaty messes from having walked 20 minutes and up a mountain. Nepali’s though are very accommodating and said not to worry about being late. They quickly gave us tikka and food. After that, I knew I owed my community big time for being late. So when they asked me to put on a sari after I had repeatedly told my friends ‘I will NOT wear a sari’…..I put on a sari. Melissa said it best, ‘everything we’d learned in PC led to this moment’. In PC, when one feels SO frustrated, one usually proclaims (in your head or aloud) ‘I will NOT blah blah blah’ only to do the exact opposite because deep down you know it’s the right thing to do. Somedays, I like to think of it as ‘community points’ so on the days when I’m feeling a little alchi (lazy) or birami (sick) they won’t mind me sitting in my room for a few hours of peace.

After many manipulations of various body parts to fit into tiny Nepali owned saris, Melissa and I were escorted immediately to the dance floor to show off our moves. It was a fun and sweaty time, but I still felt a slight aversion to the holiday; however, the holiday was just unfolding. That night, after all festivities had died down, we were called into the TV room (yes, I’m living posh corps these days) to watch ourselves tower over all the other women, circling and moving our hands in intricate movements. Most of the time I try and mimic someone else on the dance floor; however, watching myself on TV didn’t give me any encouragement that I’m any good. I think I should stick to my Irish roots and try Irish dancing because I just hop around, whereas Nepali women glide around the dance floor.

Teej program 

Over the next few days, music could be heard playing from all the surrounding villages. I walked over to my old family’s house about 2 or 3 days after my big debut on Nepali TV, but didn’t realize this was a celebration day. I had already eaten (a whole box of delicious cereal I bought in Pokhara), and felt bad because I knew I’d have to tell them I’d already eaten. Luckily, they didn’t mind too much and was content with me munching on sliced cucumbers and apples. All of the extended women of the family had arrived and were feasting on rice, vegetables, roasted soybeans, buffalo meat, and lentils. They were chatting away about the latest gossip and past Teej stories. These moments make me smile, but also miss home like crazy because I can’t always follow the stories. Seeing all the women together made me miss my sisters and cousins so much. They kept telling me that today was THEIR DAY. No kam garne! Bosne, khanne, and nachne, gaph garne matra! Weee! (No work! Sitting, eating and dancing and chatting only!) They then went on the explain that some caste groups only ate and danced on this day, but the next day they would have to go to the temple and fast for their husbands. I asked why Gurungs don’t fast, and they said because we love to eat, and not eating is too hard, which makes total sense coming from a Gurung. Food = life in this subculture. They also told me that in Gurung culture husband and wife are a little more equal than in other groups. I’ve seen this reflected in the way household decisions are made. That being said, in conversation Gurung women still Hajurlaii (the formal/respect form of ‘you’) their husbands, whereas their husbands often don’t in return. This is something I’ve also read in a couple anthropology journals. For the rest of the day they rested and continued to chat and tell stories.

The next day was the dress up in red saris and dance day. I arrived early in the morning after a long walk, and I didn’t eat breakfast just so I could pig out with the rest of them. We started getting ready in a small room upstairs that belongs to my Auntie. I really like her a lot and being in her room made me like her even more. Her and her husband live apart most of the time because he is a driver in Pokhara, but they want their 8 month old son (name Krishna, and I call Kris for short after my brother) to be raised in our village. Village life is a good environment for a young mother and baby. Her room has posters and pictures of her and her husband from when they were dating (they had a love marriage). They had taken a lot of trips together to visit different parts of Nepal and had made all these memories very tangible with photographs. Sometimes it’s hard to see the love between husbands and wives in Nepal because ‘PDA’ is NOT a thing, in village at least. It’s hard to tell if they even love each other sometimes, but seeing all these memories in photographs was really awesome.

Once we were all ready, sari lagaune, lip stick langaune, chorot lagaune, and heels lagaune, (wearing sair, lip stick, bracelets, and heels – except me b/c I’m a giant in Nepal) we made our way down the mountain (yes I did successfully make it down in a sari). When we arrived the food was ready buffet/ Nepali style and music was blasting. Some of the women had taken a day to work and prepare all the food, but the men also helped by setting up tables, chairs, the tent, and music, which was really cool. The men even came around and offered us more food, which rarely happens! I was teasing my Uncle about it, and he was like ‘are you going to turn down a second helping a rice from me? I’m only offering once!’ which is the truth because he probably won’t serve food until next Teej.

Dancing soon followed after we gorged ourselves on all the holiday food. No video camera this time, thank goodness. After dancing several dozen songs, I had to take a break. The party slowly moved to a neighboring bajaar (market) where over 50 women were gathered in a circle watching two to four women at a time dance in the center. As I was watching the other women dance, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of female bonding and their pride as Nepali women. Women who works so damn hard every day to grow food for their family, cut grass in order to provide milk, birth and feed and send their children to school, cook all the meals and snacks, clean the house (inside and out), the list of responsibilities go on and on. But in that moment, when they are dancing in the middle of their fellow female companions, I can see the transformation from subsistence farmer into a graceful woman whom has total power to move her body in the way that she chooses. Callouses and cracked feet,  hassya (Nepali tool) cuts, C sections scars, stretch marks, pudgy bellies, gray hair, wrinkles, sun-darkened skin, pimples, moles, missing teeth, every perceived imperfection is in the farthest recess of their mind. I imagine the reminders of the hardships most women face in Nepal don’t exist on the dance floor.

The female farmer's group I work with called Janachetanaa (People of Consciousness or Awareness), wrote a song for one of the many Teej programs that happened throughout the week. I was so proud to see the singing a song together at a program, and they ended up winning 4th place! I asked them to write down the song for me so I could translate it. Translating the song was a fail, so I asked a PC staff member, Chakara, to help me. I was blown away by the words in this song. It made me realize, that maybe one way to promote behavior change is to use cultural traditions such as song. Teej was the perfect setting for these women to create and sing a song that encourages women's empowerment in the community.  

Janachetanaa(Awareness)  Female Farmer Group’s song

Darsing, Dahathum -1

1.       First of all namaskaar  to the guests

Secondly namaskaar to all the sisters

2.       2072 Year, on the month of bhadau

Best wishes to the group who is having dar.

3.       Female/ sisters lets rear the livestock

Let us do the farming of oranges and vegetables

4.       Female/ sisters let’s increase the income

Let’s send our children to the school

5.       Let’s do the farming of  Oranges and Vegetables

Let’s move forward without depending on our husbands.

6.       We need to give justice to the victims of domestic violence.

We need to quit alcohol and smoking.

7.       We need to show magic in the community.

By saying all this much we are bidding you good bye. namaskaar.

Original copy of Dar Welcome Song by People of Consciousness