GURU (ng)

There is always a reason and science can explain everything. This is generally my position, whenever I have to cope with magicians, circus, fortune-tellers, astrologists, stories of ghosts, devils and curses, weird natural effects or alleged miracles. Maybe that is what happens when you have a biologist as a mother and a chemical engineer as a father. As a child, I have never heard of storks carrying babies in their beak. Babies come when, 9 months before, a spermatozoon meets an ovule. I have always known that, since the age when you start to come out with uncomfortable questions.

The ayervedical medicine is an illusion, the intolerance test works because of placebo effect. The sky is blue because of the way the Earth's atmosphere scatters light from the sun; Santa Clause exists just if you believe in it [so, Santa Clause do NOT exist].

Sometimes however, my skepticism and intense rationality fold up in the most unexpected moments.

During our field trip, we spent three days in a village named Mittikan, few hours from Pokhara. Mittikan is mostly a Gurung village. Gurung are a Nepali ethnic group migrated from Tibet in the 6^th century, traditionally brave, strong and loyal soldiers, known for their contribution to the Gurkha and British Armies. The family I was hosted in was a relatively wealthy family: my father was a literate man in his 40s, and the children two teenagers students (the third child was in Saudi Arabia working as a waiter). Nobody in the family could speak or understand English, but gesticulation, face expressions, and some Nepali words here and there (thanks Dee!!) helped the communication. The second day I woke up 6 in the morning feeling really, really bad. Probably because of some not-so-boiled water, or a strange food reaction, I spent all the day and following night throwing up, trembling and in a semi conscious status. Therefore, while everybody else was joyfully playing volleyball and experiencing the village lifestyle, rice plantation and the typical Gurung dance, I was, instead, experiencing the typical Gurung toilet. I felt really sad, because I knew that that was the only occasion we had to be in a village, and I was not able to enjoy anything there.

My Gurung aama is the sweetest woman in the world. She decided to take care of me in her own way and I decided (consciously or unconsciously) to trust her own way. Basically we communicated just through expressions ( I feel that my facial expressions have incredibly “developed” since I have arrived in Nepal). When she entered in my room in the afternoon, without any reason I showed her the medicine I was taking, and not surprisingly she did not understand anything (“she is not a biologist, Eu!!” ). She just put back the medicine on the table and took a comb instead. She started slowly combing my hair and tie them in a pony tail. It was nice, slightly calming my stomach also. Later in the evening, after my noisy throwing up, she took my trembling arm and dragged me somewhere behind the house. I was really weak and confused. On the way, I saw Dee sitting with the aunt eating baked corn, and I was able to tell her to please come with me because I had no idea where I was going. Dee, my mum, the aunt and I entered finally in a dark room/house, where there was this little old man watching television, sited in a wooden bed. His glasses were deep, and his legs too short to touch the floor. My Aama explained to him something in Gurung, pointing at me. He made me sit in front of him, and looked at me. I tried to smile at him. He was holding some seeds on his right hand. Then he started whispering something while doing some large gestures with his arm around my body. I was silent all the time, and Dee too. I enjoyed that situation, taking it seriously. I did not ask any question to my Aama, what was happening and why. Making no opposition. Maybe because I felt really weak, I just trusted her, him, and in general trusted the situation around me.

My self-control, skepticism, rationality left room for a while to a more spiritual side of myself, and at the end of the day I thought experiencing that sensation was as much as intense as experiencing rice plantation or a Gurung dance.

I came back in my room. On the table my medicine, and, next to it, a comb.