Sikkim: Temi Tea Garden

Two weeks ago, Bhychung, a young man on the staff at the New Modern Central Lodge where I'd been staying in Gangtok, was laid off for the slow season. I found out after he had left and I was sad to not have been able to say goodbye. Bhychung always smiled and didn't gossip or tease, and never asked me for anything. Many of the other staff seemed to have ulterior motives. I searched the bus depot and jeep stand hoping to say farewell to Bhy. Fruitless in my search I wandered out to the viewpoint, a nice quiet area overlooking surrounding valleys. To my joy, there was Bhy, sitting on a bench. We chatted a bit. We watched workers clear a fallen tree by hand saw and human power. On their shoulders, four workers carried each log suspended on crosspieces lashed to the log. The strongest appeared to be a wrinkel faced 50-60 year old man who showed superior strength and grace to the 20 somethings assisting him. We watched him balance on the near vertical slope and heave logs up as the others pulled by rope from above.

Bhy and I enjoyed a hike down to the river through local farm villages: terraces of corn surrounding simple mud and thatch houses. I sang and prayed at the raging river. Then we hiked back up the steep hill. Bhy invited me to his village: Temi Tea Garden, Namchi, South Sikkim. He said we could jeep there the next day and do some treks together. I said I'd sleep on it. My pendulum said to go for it. And so the next day I met him at the jeep stand for the 2.5 hour ride to his home. I fought some car sickness on the winding roads... typical steep switchbacks of Sikkim. You can usually see your destination from a viewpoint, and practically throw a stone on it, yet the switchbacks and hills make a long journey out of it.

We arrived about midday at his village which was a smattering of farm houses amidst a vast tea estate. His home was rather like a compound of simple daub and wattle barracks around a central kitchen/home/living room complex. The coupound was shared by his grandmother, mother (his father deceased), several siblings and their spouses, and several aunts/uncles. Bhy and his brother Binod were my main companions. A couple siblings spoke some English, but to much of the family, communication was limited.

The household activity revolved around the central water spigot of spring water in the center of the compound, the kitchen hearth where the meals were cooked and eaten. There was also a living room with TV (a sattelite dish outside). The hearth made of clay was typical of those I've seen trekking in Nepal. About 15 inches high, 2 feet deep, and 4 feet wide, the hearth had a central hole about 12 inches into which the ends of firewood pieces could be stuck. Several burner holes for pots like on a cookstove were over top. A stove pipe carried some of the smoke out, slots in the roof took the rest. It was made out of adobe/clay. Burning embers were dipped in water to make charcoal for later fires. The family sat around the hearth on little wood stools (maybe 3 inches high). For a squatting culture, this is comfortable... the dishes were done squatting on one's haunches around the spigot... the toilet is a traditional squat toilet. One of the Aunties would laugh and bring me a stool when I tired of squatting by the water spigot to wash my feet.

Meals consisted of rice, a potato based curry, often dahl or lentils, some vegetables (beans, bitter melon, or squash). Three times a day! I sometimes grew bored... mainly because they wanted me to be well fed and often heaped my plate up with rice... too much rice for my tastes! All in all it was delicious though. Sometimes some sour milk left over from making curd was served as well.

About three doe goats and their offspring, a cow and calf made up the livestock. The cow provided milk for the family. The goats were raised to sell for mutton at 100 rs/kg. Terraces of corn with some squash and vegetables surrounded the compound. And a shade house for ornamental plants completed the compound.

I stayed in Binod's room (he stayed at his aunt's) which was one room in a row of three making a sort of barracks. The walls were paper thin and when the toddler on the other side moved in the night, I felt it.

The tea estate was the big employer in the area. Bhy's mom worked at a guest house on the estate. His sister in law picked tea. I think one Uncle worked for the government.

The day started at 5 am with dishes being washed, teeth being brushed, the cow being milked and animals fed. At 6 am the little nieces and nephews were singing and reciting their lessons outloud guided by parents or uncles. I got to help escort the 3 little children to school (about 20 minutes walk) a couple times. This was one of Binod's "duties". Binod, 19, had quit school a couple years ago after completing 8th grade; he did "duty" for the family which consisted of cutting a couple of baskets of fresh fodder for the livestock, chopping wood, escorting the children to and from school, and errands. The fodder was cut from the undergrowth in the nearby tea estate. It took maybe an hour to hour and a half for him to fill the large basket that would be suspended from his head. I helped a couple of days and was not very fast with the sickle and didn't dare try a big load without working up to it for fear I'd hurt my neck. The onlookers laughed and laughed at "the big man with the small basket!"

Binod says he wants to make money to have luxury. I find it odd. He doesn't realize the luxury of time he has in his life. He cuts fodder for a a couple hours per day, chops some wood, escorts the younger children to and from school and a few other chores. Maybe it adds up to 4-6 hours per day. Hard to say. He works a bit, watches TV a bit. Maybe plays card with relative. Visits with some friends. I know few people in the states who have such a relaxed life. Most are running around finding money to support their gadgets, then maintain their gadgets, in an endless cycle. Binod and his family seem to have what we say are the important things: family, food, shelter. They have a TV and phone. A car would be useless as there are share jeeps by the dozen passing by the nearest roadhead. Most of the village is connected by paths that cut across the steep switchbacks. Roads would be inefficient and environmental disasters.

The home is relatively comfortable and appropriate for the local conditions. Most of it is made from local materials except the metal roof, which has replaced the bamboo/thatch roofs of the past. The lumber, mud, daub, plaster... all are local, cheap. Some houses/buildings have roofs of flattened tins. I love the recycling here. Newspaper is used to wrap things at stores and even folded into makeshift bags. Sikkim has a ban on plastic shopping bags. Unfortunately corporate marketing still brings in plenty of plastic wrappers for things like candies, tobacco, detergent, processed foods. Locals are used to the past when they could just throw garbage over the bank and it would biodegrade. Hillsides are covered with litter now that doesn't biodegrade. Binod told me that the government pays people to pick it up. I'm not sure that happens or that it happens everywhere. Binod chastises me for always bringing my garbage home. It can be a real challenge to balance imposing my standards from my culture on another, and educating, and just trying to BE. After a week or two, I cringe and throw a potato chip bag on the ground. Binod laughs. I pray for environmental forgiveness.

The day we go out to cut fodder together with a sickle and basket, it is raining. Bhy asks if I want mosquito repellant. He is slathering kerosene on his legs. I decline. I haven't noticed many mosquitoes and usually don't use repellent in any case. I think about telling him that fuel is toxic. But I don't want to impose my reality on him. I wonder when someone will educate the community about the harmful effects of kerosene, and then sell them some chemical product like DEET which also has harmful effects, yet makes some corporation a lot more money.

It takes me a long time to fill the small basket I've chosen; I've never carried a basket from my head before, so I don't want to strain anything. I'm surprised how long it is taking me. They make it look so easy to gather a large amount of fodder from herbage that is maybe 6 inches high on average. Somehow they make a even cut about 1.5 inches off the ground. We are cutting the undergrowth from around the tea plants on the tea plantation. Tea pickers are above us on the hillside, laughing at me... the big man with the little basket. It took some effort for me to convince Bhy and Binod that I should cut fodder with them. They are so honoring of their guests. I tried sweeping one day, and immediately got the broom taken away from me.

I spend two weeks with Bhy's family. The first week, Bhy and I went trekking to Maenam Hill (10,300 ft) by Ravangla. Mist, rain, leeches. I had my first real bought with leeches. In West Sikkim, I had a few bite between my toes without me noticing. Now, my feet were getting attacked. Trying to scrape them off, I learned the meaning of the phrase "You bloodsucking leech!" They hold on like super glue. It reminded me of how some of the touts hang onto tourists for money.

It took a long time to hike to Ravangla from Bhy's village. We passed a group of road workers and Bhy used my camera to take some pictures. A roadsign said Ravangla was 8 km. We figured two hours. We hiked and played the game of guessing the distance on the next roadsign. It said 12 km! The next one was unreadable. Bhy said the bus would come by. Eventually it did. Luckily we took it (we debated thinking we must be nearly to Ravangla). We took lunch in Ravangla and bought some vegetables (onions, radish, carrots), crackers, and snacks to tide us over for the night. We then started through the state forest to Maenam hill amidst heavy rain. Bhy took the water bottle and filled it from water running over the ground, saying it was good water because it was running over soap plant. I didn't believe him. Later I looked at the water and it was very clear. I tasted it and it tasted very good. It was fine. I learned a lesson about wilderness water. The rain was fairly heavy, and so we decided to stay in one of the rest houses... an open sided shelter with concrete floor. I would later curse that concrete floor. In the meantime I had one of the best meditations ever with visions of travel to Ladakh, memories of hikes in college, memories of my farming days, thoughts of friends and family, and a real feeling of empowerment. That ended quickly when I lay down to sleep. We had just two blankets and a bamboo mat. I had left my sleeping bag behind when I realized that it hadn't gone through a suitable quarantine from the lice infestation I had a few weeks before (I think 4-6 weeks sealed in a bag will break the cycle, if I remember correctly). The concrete sapped all of our heat. Luckily with the two of us we could share body heat, and we were cold enough we had no hangups about that. (Actually, like in many traditional cultures, it is common for guys to sleep together here.) It wasn't that cold temperature wise, yet cold enough to be miserable. We got up at 5 am and took off for the peak of Maenam hill. By 7 am we were on top enjoying a sunny view above the clouds. Kachenjunga (I believe is is the third highest peak in the world ...Everest, K2, then Kachenjunga) is the local peak to see. I got sunburned in the thin air. We blew a conch we found at the hilltop altar... Hindu tridents as well as Buddhist pictures of the Dalai Lama.

We returned to Bhy's house for a day or two of recovery. Some of my leech bits got slightly infected and irritated by my sandal straps. Bhy and Binod treated me to my first taste of "chang" ... a fermented millet drink, kind of like a milky wine in taste. I liked it. It felt somewhat nutritious and not like empty calories. The "high" is different than alcohol... more dreamy. The chang was served in a local house. We tried it on several more occasions and learned that the strength varied alot depending on how long it had fermented. The first three times it was mild and relatively "harmless." The last evening we went, it was strong... very strong! It was cheap at 20 rs/ kg.

Then Bhy and Radeep (a friend of his) and I hiked Tendong Hill (8,000+ feet). It was a nice day hike from his house. There was a monastery on top. A few days later we bused to Namchi together and saw Sandruptse, a huge Buddha statue...it was very powerful and I had some good prayers there. We walked through the "rock garden" a ornamental garden. Played a bit on the seesaws and swings and sauntered into Namchi. We had planned to spend the night and have some pictures printed from my camera, but printing prices were too high. Bhy had used my camera to take pictures of his family and wanted them printed out.

The remaining days were spent hanging around the home and village. It rained daily. I got back in touch with my painting. The family was mesmerized by this. I ended up buying them some paints and papers. Bhy's sister had me make some illustrated ABC charts for her.



For me it was hard at times. Communication with much of the family was extremely limited. Bhy and Binod were my main companions, but even with them communication could be difficult. Many times we discovered we were understanding things two different ways, when we thought we were on the same page. Often, someone would just come up and say "you come here now". One morning at 7am, Binod said, "come with me, we are going to the village." I didn't know for what, for how long, but got prepared within five minutes. It turns out he was distributing some papers to different families for his mother. We enjoyed a nice hour walk around the village before coming back for breakfast. I got so if asked if I were hungry, I would always say "a little bit", because I never knew the days plan. There was no privacy. Writing or painting in a journal is an invitation for someone to come along and look through the journal. That seems common here.

They have very strong community and family. We have very strong individualism. In Tashiding, I told some locals I was gay, when they asked why I wasn't married. They asked if my mother and family was terribly upset. I said not, that my family respects what I need to do to be happy. They said they couldn't do anything without family, friends, community overlooking and directing them. They can't fathom traveling or being or doing things alone. Both cultures have their advantages and disadvantages. The way Bhy's family lives, child care is shared between parents, aunts/uncles, grandparents. Resources like land, food, money, TV and phone are shared. There is great security. But there is a sacrifice to individuality and being oneself.

I was quite sad to leave the day I finally left. I realized I had fallen in love with this family and their simple life. I enjoyed simple walks with friends and meeting their friends and family around the village. Quiet. Peaceful. Serene. Simple. I think it must have been something like this years ago, perhaps in the village my father grew up in. I'll miss my new found family and look forward to seeing them again if and when I make it back to Sikkim.