Friday, March 6, 2015

Nepal (2)

The fanfare was but in vain. Having seen enough corruption in my own country, and being the cynical and cautious asshole that I am, I never responded to their calls for funding again. I don't flinch or cry when I see corporeal punishment, even when blood gets involved. Pointless to try to move someone as apathetic as me. My empathy, if I have any, lies elsewhere.

Sandra was the only girl that stood out. What tribe she comes from I have no idea, but like Simon said the minorities tend to be Christians in the area. She invited us to her house half-way on a mountain. We hugged her little goat and we visited her temple and flipped through their worship books. The walls were all covered. The color was in the tone of orange. She was seeking something. For what, a shout-out to the culturally Christian white Americans who are actually so liberal they probably haven't read a word from the Bible? For what, the better-off and godless Asians who for a moment might make her feel less alienated?

Sandra isn't a Nepali name. 

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