Journal Entry 3

FORGOTTEN TREES

THE EXCITING LIFE AND UNNOTICED DEATH OF INDIGENOUS FOODS

©2018  Kajsa Alger

Tamang Translation and Cultural Guide: Bhimsen Tamang

Journal 3, lost language

In the Kutch region of Gujarat, India, there is a dialect that is dying out.  After a large earthquake struck a huge population of native speakers, the Kutchi dialect started to disappear.  Over 25,000 lives were lost and of them, the majority were Kutchi speakers.  That is over 150 times the amount of Tamang in Tekampur.  In 2015, a 7.8 magnitude earthquake hit Nepal, killing over 8,000 people.  The Tamang areas were severely affected. When you think that in one fell swoop an entire cultural knowledge, such as language or food, can be eradicated, it truly hits home.  It makes me wonder about all the things that we don’t even know we’re missing.  The things that have already disappeared with a handful of elders and the fading memories of the next generation, growing older themselves.  

The Great Grandmother in Tekampur, Amai Rani Tamang, is almost 100 years old.  She is the oldest person still alive in the village today.  It's said that the whole village here comes from one Great Great Grandfather.  A hunter who traveled from Nagarkot, a large city in Central Nepal once run by Kings,  to Temal, a small rural village now populated almost entirely with Tamang.  I put a note in my notebook to make it to Tekampur while I can still talk to Amai Rani and ask her about the Great Tamang Hunter.  When you think about places like Temal and Tekampur, where so much time is taken carrying water to town (up to 3 or 4 hours per day in water transporting), it's not a far stretch of the imagination to understand why trekking for some tree bark would be easily given up for a container of baking powder.  Now with water pipelines and wells bringing water, life can be easier.  It is all about making life a little bit easier.  

Here's a funny story.  I know an elderly Ukrainian couple.  They moved to the United States later in life.  They couldn't believe that you could go to the store and very easily buy peeled potatoes in cans!  They had been peeling potatoes their whole life.  Even though the canned grocery store version is one of the most unpleasant textures and flavors I've tasted, they were blown away by how easy it was.  They bought load and loads of cans and gave them away for Halloween one year (to many a surprised and disappointed child)!

For those of us who grew up in the western world, where things are relatively easy and supplies are plentiful and convenient, it's easy to forget why people would supposedly throw away their heritage and traditions for cheap and easy alternative options.  We don't have the daily reminder of carrying buckets of water over steep terrain, and we're not peeling endless pounds of potatoes.  Learning to do things for the sake of simply doing them and for the preservation of history, honestly- this is the luxury of a privileged life.  Believe me, I struggle with the guilt of telling this story.  It feels personal and invasive somehow, like telling of another woman's childbirth .  At the same time though, I have a deep love for those foods and ingredients that threaten to silently disappear.  I have an admiration for the people and a connection to them and the ancient history held in their fingertips.  This story is a self-inflicted responsibility you see.  My own bucket of water.  My journals fill with the weight of random facts that I'll try to piece together and carry across the terrain of a translated tale.  So onward we go, back towards the world of Tekampur and the Tamang people.  Tomorrow I make Chyang!