sheila and roshan: E-mail home from Sheila: Tuesday 14.03.06

No language school for us as today the hindu festival of Holi is celebrated in Nepal. For the past week children have been practising filling small plastic bags with water before throwing them at friends and foe. On one of our paths to school we have slunk tightly in behind a high wall and most of us until today have kept dry.
This morning began quietly, sunny and warm and after breakfast most of our group decamped onto the roof terrace to catch up on Nepali homework and watch the fun. Firstly small clusters of young boys ran in to the space carrying buckets of water and the endless supply of bags filling, throwing, and peeling with laughter as they hit their targets. Soon our attention went to two very tiny boys, who joined the fun. Aided by his mother, one filled his bags from the water butt before running across the square towards the group of men sitting on the steps and throwing them. Most of these, to the amusement of all, landed not far from his own feet.
Several motor bikes went past, crash helmets missing today displaying hair and faces sprayed silver, red and gold. Groups of youths, hands full of red powder strode past frequently taking position to attack others until all were covered in red war paint.

Then it was our turn! Splat water, landed on our terrace amid screams of laughter from a young group on a balcony right across the square. A shot worthy of any professional. What could the bideshis do but retaliate but even though the opposing team was probably only just out of primary school, over the next hour or so they scored far more hits!
A good day had by all except perhaps by the boys who spend most of each day in and around the skip sorting through the rubbish to find something to eat, sniff or sell. Apart from one watching wistfully for a couple of minutes, they were absent all day.
Today reminded me again of priorities and simple things here. The small children who are rarely crying and whose parents seem to find so much time to enjoy them. A little boy playing with a biscuit packet, the small boys, playing with water, the girl of about four who, alongside her mother doing washing, makes her pretend bed, folding the clothes so carefully before tucking herself in or sitting alongside her grandfather? twirling her umbrella, the small boy chasing a cockerel nearly as big as himself and the group of siblings playing skipping and counting games.

Back to language school tomorrow, where perhaps we might again see two little boys with a rough piece of broken fence and a ball who left their game to peep through the gate to stare at the bideshis….