Sherpa wedding

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This entry—as an exception—in English.

July 6 is the Dalai Lama's birthday. For the Tibetan community, this is considered an auspicious day and a day for celebration.

Not so for the RYI summer school students: they have no day off, but are expected at school at 8 am. The Nepali authorities are very much afraid for Tibetan political demonstrations, and the RYI staff in no way wants her students to get involved in any way.

The Kathmandu Lhamo Association has planned two days of cultural celebrations on the courtyard of the Srongtsen School. On  July 6 a song and dance celebration is planned, while July 7 is for a Lhamo (Tibetan Opera) performance.

My class ends at 10:15 a.m., and at 10:30 a.m. I was at the Srongtsen School. Nobody there.

...drinks and snacks...

I found out later that the Lhamo Association had had to apply for permission for these activities with the Nepali authorities. At the last moment the authorities decided not to grant permission for activities at the Srongtsen School, because that place was considered too large and they were afraid that the activities might get out of hand. So at the last moment it was decided to move the activities to the Chopsang Monastery in Jorpati, a seemingly somewhat smaller place, for which permission could be granted. Everybody within the Tibetan community had heard about these changes through the grapevine. Not me, though. But the doorman at the Srongtsen School told me about it, and I took a taxi to the Chopsang Monastery.

Chopsang Monastery's entrance is after 100 meter at the end of a small side-alley to Boudha Main Road. To the right and left of the alley were easily some hundred Nepali MP with riot gear and shields. But they were laughing with passers-by, which made the impression much less frightening.

...double scotch on the rocks...

The inner yard of Chopsang Monastery to me didn't look much smaller than that of the Srongtsen School, and there were easily some thousand or more people gathered. I listened to speeches for a while, found it hard to find a place to sit and watch the proceeding, and as I had no clue when the song and dance were about to start, I decided to leave. My main interest lay with the Lhamo performance of the next day anyway.

But strolling back on the Boudha Main Road, my attention was drawn by Brass Band music sounds, coming from the back of another alley. I followed my ears to find a band playing at the entrance of a mansion, the clarinet player contorting himself into the most incredible antics. I took my film camera and filmed a bit, until I was approached by a man, who stood bythe entrance and who invited me in. Het told me there was a Sherpa wedding going on inside, and I would be very welcome to join the party. The puja (thanksgiving to the Gods) ceremony had just been finished and the ceremony proper by the lama was about to start.

The Sherpa are a Tibetan ethnic group, originating in Nepal and living in the area around Solukhumbu at the foot of Mount Everest.

I was guided to a round table at the back, and before I knew what happened, I had a double scotch on the rocks in front of me. At 11:15 a.m.!

I happened to have a kurta (a light and fairly neat Indian shirt) in my backpack, and donned that quickly over my smudgy T-shirt.

But this is the story of my life. My curiosity (or maybe just my innocence) has often led me into strange and wonderful situations. I have always been at the right spot at the right time. Who could have expected at my birth that so many fantastic and unexpected things would happen to me. Even my birth was a most wonderful experience.

After spending an hour or so at the wedding, talking to various people, and being offered the white silk khatag welcoming shawl, I had to leave, as my next class was due at 1:00 p.m. My friend at the entrance told me that this was the bride's house, and that the festivities would continue there until 4:00 p.m., after which the party would go to the groom's house for more music, drinks, dance, and dinner.

So I asked, "What about if I come back before 4:00 p.m., can I still join the festivities?" "Sure", he said, "come back whenever you like".

I couldn't wait till class was finished at 3:15 p.m. I hurried back to the wedding, but was delayed a bit, and arrived at the bride's place just before 4:00 p.m.

The band was just marching through the alley to Boudha Main Road, followed by cars with the wedded couple and assorted family and an assortment of walking wedding guest (see film: my apologies for the bad quality, this is blogspot's work, the original is of much better quality). "Too late", it flashed through my mind. I followed the band to Boudha Main Road, where they walked on for some 100 meters, causing a traffic jam in the meantime. I saw wedding guests disappearing into various waiting cars, and when all wedding guests were seated in their cars, the band stopped playing and was about to board a mini-van. I strolled up to them, having gottten acquainted a few hours earlier, and asked if I could hitch a ride. No problem. If 22 persons would fit in a Toyota mini-van, 23 would also fit. I spent a 25 minute ride, standing on the footboard, bent double with cramps, exchanging chitchat with musicians half my age, until we arrived at the groom's house in the Bhatbhateni part of Kathmandu. There the band marched in formation to the ramp leading to the groom's house, followed by the married couple and the wedding guests. (Here is a youtube-link with hopefully a better screen quality than the previous gruesome blogspot video:

-->http://youtu.be/GQ-Ypvf50hU). At the top, we were awaited by several girls, one holding a cup with flour, the others cups with various foods. Each guest made a blessing with the flour, then accepted bits of food from each cup.

The groom's father's house was another large mansion. Drinks and snacks were served on the patio, while there was room for dancing on the roof terrace. I found a group of middle-aged men, all speaking excellent English, with whom to spend time. The groom's dad joined us for a while. I thanked him heartily for having me—an outsider—as a guest to his son's wedding. He smiled politely: "My pleasure".

Wedding guests at the groom's house.

The house was huge and exquisitely furnished. In the staircase framed pictures hung on the walls. One I remember, a picture of mountaineer and first Mt. Everest conquerer Edmund Hillary, signed and autographed "To my friend, from Ed Hillary". I later found that the groom's dad held a post as secretary-general at one of the ministries.

So there I was, enjoying myself, talking, eating, drinking. At the end I was even given a ride back to Boudanath by some wedding guests. But to my regret I have not spoken to bride and groom, I cannot even distinctly remember having met them at all.

The party would continue the next couple of days at a golf resort in the mountains above Kathmandu. The next around 200 guests, most of them immediate family, had been invited. The day after that another 1000 guest were expected.  
I spent my next day at the Tibetan opera performance of the Lhamo Association.  But that's another story.