Homestay Families

Since we arrived on the first morning of the Tibetan New Year, Losar, we've spent a lot of time in family spaces. Zaq's homestay family is better off so they keep inviting us back for meals. We go to see my homestay family a couple of times but only briefly.

My amala is a single mother with two young daughters. The older daughter is boarded at another town an hour away. The Tibetans were able to create their own school system that, while still linked to the Indian educational system, was mostly designed to meet their needs. The students have a month-long break over Losar so both of my amala's daughters were present while I lived there. I never got the story about her life and the father. She was actually born in India, just north of Dharamsala. Her parents must've been part of the early waves of exiles who lived in small refugee camps while arrangements were still being negotiated with the India government but the nascent Tibetan government-in-exile. Her home is part of an elementary school stepped down the sharp hillside and she works as the janitor of the school and caretaker of the children who board during the school year. The space allocated for her home consisted of a large room where the childrens' bunks were situated, two squat toilets and a shower(without running water when there hadn't been enough precipitation), and two small side rooms which made up her private space. One room still stored students' trunks and had one empty bunk and the dual gas burners that made up the kitchen. The other room had one bed, where I slept with my head below the altar. Amala would sleep with the 7-year-old daughter on the bunk in the kitchen room and the older daughter, about 11, would sleep on bedding rolled out next to my bed each night. There was electricity for the lights and the television which was a recent addition. The food she prepared was great. Often she made Indian curries, always vegetarian for me. She spoke some English. It was easier to communicate about school and food than to ask questions about life experiences. In the mornings, I enjoyed pretending to be asleep while she tended the altar, watching her light incense, murmur prayers, and refill the bowls of water and food. It was a pleasant way to slowly wake up. Breakfast came next, usually some fresh bread with honey and peanut butter. Extras in a Bob the Builder lunch box. I used to be so finicky about the hard boiled eggs she'd given me, trying to hide them to throw out later if I found the inside wasn't thoroughly cooked. Only recently I've realized how much raw egg I've ingested in my life in the form of cookie dough.

This year, she has another student who is already bed-ridden with some kind of stomach troubles. But my amala is very kind and welcoming but, as usual, seems slightly stressed by the demands of caring for three people. Her youngest daughter, Pema, is super shy at first, as though I'm a stranger again. She warms up later, especially when she comes with her mother to see me off on my last day, a gesture that assures me that they always were, and still are, fond of me. It must be strange for them to have us foreigners dropping into their lives from unimaginable distances. I doubt my homestay sisters have ever been to Delhi. Someday, they will, though, when they are older. Maybe for university, like one of Zaq's homestay brothers who is in his first year.