Real People | Real Stories

…thirteen year old farmgirls want to grow up to be farmers, it seems. “If you could do anything you wanted to when you grow up, what would you do?” We asked Saru.

“Probably work in the fields here,” she said. “Well, I love it, and it would give enough time to hang out with my friends.”

Saru’s mother, Kancha didi, whom we also interviewed, spoke with obvious pride about the difficulties she had convincing her husband of the value of educating his daughters, and of the blessings Saru’s education in particular has brought their family.

“She taught me to speak the Nepali language,” she told us (Gokarna is a Newari village, and the many there don’t speak Nepali at all). “She taught me to write the letters, and to sign my name. I am illiterate, but now I can sign my name instead of using a thumbprint when we do any business on the farm.”

Saru’s mother is a kind, warm, solid woman with firelight in her eyes. She loves her daughters and is proud of her son, and has (what we interpreted as) a crystal clear understanding of the primacy of strong women in her world. She is a little leary of her husband, but she seems to make room for the warmth between them as well.

Kancha didi, just after the interview. Her oldest daughter and ridiculous/cute puffy dog look on.

Nutan making nice with Kancha didi, Saru’s mother, prior to our interview.

It was while we were in the field shooting that I got the leech. Apparently they hang out on the grasses, and then when you walk by, they jump onto your legs and crawl up your socks until they find leg. I’m guessing it was a little guy–never saw him, but had a little sucker hole on my leg and a patch of dried blood at the end of the day. Leeches. We’re so cool, huh?