THE ANSWER IS 12
TAI12 #246 An End in Sight
(Future Flights and
Panic Plans)
7/7/2023 – Day 1,224
out of China
303/0 – Nepal
Greetings Maniacal
Minotaurs of Madness,
Welcome to the Show...
July 1 Saturday
It has ended. I have survived. The buildup to the end of this
project was a nothing less and a stress avalanche, but it’s over now. I compose
this while 30,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean as my plane speeds me towards
Dallas. The past ten months were among the most stressful and exasperating of
my life, right up there with the Dallas debacle and the Phat J’s fallout.
Depending on when (or if?) my visa for my new job is ready
that will finally take me home to Shenyang, China, I face a month or more of stewing
madness in WLOTUS. I cancelled my Gathering tickets upon realizing that
devoting an entire week to that adventure just wasn’t in the Joker’s cards this
time around.
The latest draft of Ninjalicious: Crazy Corea has
been completed. The sequel to the original epic might be ready in time to find
its way beneath your Xmas trees this December. Additionally, my time in Nepal
has inspired what will likely evolve into the tentatively titled, Ninjalicious:
Nepali Novella. As per the norm, check for infrequent updates at: https://ninjaversepublishing.weebly.com/
What follows serves as the
continuing disjointed recounting of random points of the past ten months. Many
more pictures have been added to: https://theansweris12.weebly.com/
December 23 Friday
This week ended with an asterisk. I thought I would
finally have my first week where every single one of my classes were going to
meet. Every week so far, there has been at least one class/day cancelled by the
school or unattended by my students. This week, daily concerts at the Dhangadhi
Trade Fair have distracted my students and emptied my classrooms.
I entered my empty 4:20 p.m. English for Mass
Communication classroom today. Three guys followed me inside to tell me that
everyone else was gone. A fourth showed up with three minutes left before it officially
ended. Their classmates had left early because it was Friday and due to only
two of their five professors bothering to show up today. Their professors often
just skip class with no notice. The students go outside to play and screw
around when their profs are no-shows. It happens every single week according to
them. Hell, one student went so far as to reveal that one of the professors I
whose course we share is in the US.
On a positive not, I scored some Clownies today. After
waiting all of forty seconds, Dr. Krishna saw me in the ER. He had me explain my
issues and what I wanted before instructing me to visit the admissions counter
to get some paperwork they needed. A receptionist typed my name into the
computer and printed out a piece of paper for 500 rupees ($4).
Unsure that I would (and secretly hoping that I wouldn’t)
meet the requirements, my answers to his questions more than passed the
mustard. Worse still, he prescribed Modafinil to keep me going after prescribing
Clownies to put me down. Now I've got a piece of paper to show pharmacists. Of
course, I am having trouble finding people in this town who bother to stock
their pharmacies. I couldn't hunt down the Modafinil at any of the five spots I
hit.
KMC Konference
March 28 Tuesday (Prelude)
I got trapped by a professor (possibly someone on the administration
staff?) today who demanded that I attend Kailali Multiple Campus’ inaugural two-day
conference on research this Saturday and Sunday. It's important enough for the
school to cancel classes on Sunday, or classes just aren't important enough to
be held on Sunday. I informed the mystery man that I have my radio show on
Saturday mornings and a NELTA workshop in the far west that afternoon. He got
huffy about how KMC is my most important job in all of Nepal. I don't know this
cheesedick's name, nor have we ever before spoken to each other. The event runs
from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. I told him that it started way too early, but that I'd
show up whenever I rolled out of bed on Sunday.
April 1 Saturday
Episode
12 of Professor Bone’s Musical Scrapyard went off without a hitch,
although it was interesting pulling it off without the magical flask or pharmaceutical
assistance I have come to refer to as my sidekicks.
A
student intercepted me as I was leaving campus and inquired as to which caste I
belonged. Nepal typically has four: Brahmin,
Kshatriya, Vaishya, and Sudra. The Hatchetman charm dangling from my
neck caught my eye, inspiring me to respond, “Juggalo.” This confused him and
allowed me to pass unimpeded.
Ramji’s
last phone call had concluded with him telling me that he would pick me up from
my house at 11:45 for our drive west. An hour came and went without any trace
of Ramji. I don’t waste money keeping voice or text credit on my phone, so I
had no means to contact him. The afternoon burned away as I sat in my home/cell
aggressively waiting. An email went out to him once I’d given up on him and
decided to head out for a drink.
April 2 Sunday
In no hurry to make my appearance at KMC’s slapdash research
conference, I showered and washed a load of laundry before ambling down to
campus. A response from Ramji awaited me in my inbox. He informed me that
yesterday’s workshop had been postponed to an unknown date in the future. He
hadn’t thought to tell me this so that I wouldn’t waste my afternoon waiting for
him.
KMC didn’t cancel all classes today (remember that
Nepal runs on a six-day work week). To dissuade students from visiting the
administration building, the site of the conference, groundskeepers had tied
ropes around trees to block easy access to the two paths leading to the
building.
A student approached me once I’d arrived.
“You’re late,” he accused.
“Yeah, and I wasn’t even here yesterday, so I’m doing
pretty well today,” I shot back.
“This started this morning.”
“You’ve got some balls, don’t you? I know what time it
started, and here I am.”
“I was your student.”
“If you say so. Apparently, you didn’t show up enough
for me to remember you.”
“Can I selfie?” he asked oblivious to anything I’d
said. He handed his phone to a friend to take our “selfie.”
My arrival came as the morning sessions were winding
down for a lunch break. They had run out of fancy lanyards for my nametag, so
the guy who had first told me about this event tied a yellow string through it
once I’d filled out its information blanks. If I was so integral to this event,
why hadn’t they bothered to print a name badge for me?
The Chief roped me into eating with him. We lined up
in the shade of a canopy erected to the building’s east side. He explained that
KMC had bought all of the food and then hired a crew to cook and serve it. The
buffet offered a common range of Nepali cuisine: rice, lentil soup, veggies,
roti, a bowl of a yogurt-ish goo, and well-hacked chunks of boiled chicken for
the carnivores.
Attendees reassembled for the afternoon sessions. Of
the four rooms hosting speakers, only one had air-conditioning. This led me to
staking out a chair in its rear, allowing me to write in my journal and read a
book on my phone.
The final presentations were a messy affair. A handful
of men were called up to sit on sofas positioned on the stage at the front of
the room. Each person had fifteen minutes to present his topic. Not one of them
managed to stay within the time limit. Dr. Binadi hosted the session and
reminded them and complained about their going too long, even though they had a
student volunteer stationed next to the podium with a countdown timer running
on his phone.
A break after 3 p.m. gave us time to hit the head and
stretch our legs before the ninety-minute closing ceremony. I reclaimed my seat
and began to wonder how I was going to stay awake through this event. The
Clowny I’d taken in the morning had mellowed me out.
A speaker called out the names of people essential to
the event so that they would come up and take a seat on the sofas. My ears
perked up as I heard her call my name. Shitsticks. I gathered my gear and made
my way up to find that the sofas were filled. They took a heavy wooden chair
from the front row and placed it before the sofas. This left me sitting in
front of and taller than all the others around me. A procession of people spoke
on the successes and failures of the day. It passed without me ever being
called up to talk, which I had been warned they expected of me. The power went
out a few times, the session concluded and I got out of there.
An hour outside of the conference’s conclusion, I
realized that I desperately needed to get out of the solitary cell that is my
house. Mom had delivered some pretty devastating news about the loss of someone
very important to my life who had fundamentally changed me for the better many
years ago. It was time for dinner and to have a few drinks in her honor.
The Lotus Café is a restaurant I have come to enjoy in
town. Strange people asking strange questions tend to harass me less there than
in other establishments, and I hadn’t visited in a month. Upon entering, after
making the twenty-five-minute walk from home, a waiter asked me if I was “with
KMC.” It was a little odd that he knew the name of my employer, but I guess a
lot of people know more about me than I would like in a town this small where I
make up a quarter to half of its expat population.
I grabbed a booth, ordered some “kaju fried” (cashews
fried in oil), my first of several 650ml bottles of Gorkha Strong (7%) and a
180ml pour of Signature Rare Whisky. The Lotus has two private rooms to
accommodate larger groups and parties. Walking past them on my way to the outdoor
bathroom to break the seal, I looked left and understand why the waiter had
asked his question. That room was filled with my colleagues. I don’t think they
saw me, or if they did, they didn’t say anything or try to signal me. I ate,
drank and rounded off the night with a double apple hookah. Despite making a
few trips to the toilet, none of the KMC staff and I crossed paths.
I Want to Be a Terrorist
May 18 Thursday
Or, I want to be considered a terrorist in Oklahoma. Last
November, Oklahomans went to the polls and elected a slate of far-right wing
religious fanatics who campaigned on platforms of hate and fear that have
become all too common in recent decades. One of these wackos is State
Superintendent Ryan Walters who fears homosexuals and literacy. To commemorate
his first Teacher Appreciation Week in office, he made a public address that
let Oklahoma’s thousands of educators know exactly where they stand in his
eyes.
“I don’t negotiate with the teachers
union. They’re a terrorist organization,” Walters threatened. Just in case you
might have misunderstood him, he had more to say.
“I don’t negotiate with folks who
would sabotage our kids. That’s a terrorist organization in my book.”
According to him, that means Oklahoma
had nearly 35,000 terrorists lurking in our schools. I would proudly join their
ranks to stand up to this fearmongering insanity infesting our nation’s
schools.
Concluding Confusion
May 18 Thursday
I spoke with my Chief
this morning. The old codger had no idea what I was talking about when I
mentioned tomorrow's 5 p.m. deadline for him to respond to an email sent from
my program ninjas in Kathmandu. He's also talked to my PAS on the phone in
Nepali. He started in about me holding some special sessions during the break.
Nope. Wrong again, buddy boy.
The guy I think might
be his number two wanted to know what we're going to do next semester. I
explained that KMC had missed the boat to file to keep the program going and
that my unhappy ass is out of here in forty days. After I host my last radio
show a week from Saturday, it will become a life goal to not set foot on that
campus ever again in this lifetime.
The only reason I saw
them was because they were outside my classroom waiting for a seminar to start
half-an-hour later. They dragged me into it but failed to drag me into a seat
of honor at the sweaty front. I grabbed the heavy wooden chair propping the
door open and left as soon as the first speaker had concluded her speech
in Nepali.
A supremely unpleasant
email arrived right before I unsuccessfully tried to get some sleep last night.
My visa agent reported that he was about to submit my FBI background check to
the Department of State for authentication but wasn't sure if I still wanted
him to do it. It has "records in the report." What the fuckery? The
only changes I could see were the pair of checks run by Oklahoma when I earned
my state teaching certificates during COVID. Having already once achieved a Chinese
work visa with no problem. It's so hard not to feel like I'm on the ropes at this
point.
May 22 Monday
Because my Chief hadn't
responded to the Fulbrighter's email from a week ago about her wishing to give
a presentation on campus, she asked me to stand over his shoulder and have him
answer. I arrived at his office this morning to discover it full of Nepal
Student Union members arguing with him. I stood and waited for twenty sweaty
minutes before he could talk to me. Before I could explain what the heck I was
doing there, he tells me that it has been decided to add two extra weeks
to the semester. I told him that I've already set up the final two
AECC classes and that Prof. Saud and Dr. Binadi have removed me from their
classes. Fuck it. I'm out. How mismanaged is this place that it’s
acceptable to simply tack on an extra two weeks to the university’s semester at
during the final week of class? American students would torch the place.
May 25 Thursday
Eight students came to
receive their AECC certificates this morning. The Chief wasn't there after
having assured me that he'd turn up to sign them and to take advantage of the
photo opportunity. He wasn't in his office. A professor sipping hot chai tea at
the KMC Canteen in spite of the 100F weather told me that he'd left campus to
do some KMC shit elsewhere for the day. Oh well. I explained it to the kids and
advised them to hunt him down later to get him to sign their certificates.
One of the radio
station students is also one of my AECC student. I told him that I'd see him
Saturday morning, and he said, "No." Apparently, a 3/8" cable to
the mixer board has gone bad, so the station is off the air until they can get
someone to fix/replace it. I told him that I used to fix my gear when I was a
mobile DJ, but I don't think he got it. That brings about the sudden and
inglorious conclusion to my relationship with KMC!
May 26 Friday
That was a journey into the bowels of hell. I awoke after 4 a.m. with shit
crawling on me. Whatever the fuck they were, they had taken over my bedroom.
They had swarmed under my mosquito net. They covered the floor like an
undulating shag carpet. I lost my shit. Butt-ass naked, I threw open my front
door so I could shake out my blanket, sheet and pillow cases. I swept the floor
several times and went nuts spraying with the last of my mosquito spray and my
clothing treatment spray. I fucking hate this place. An hour later, I
had returned to the shattered protection once afforded me by my net as I rolled
around in the heat trying to reclaim lost slumber. This pre-post-apocalyptic
hellscape is determined to break me, but I refuse to give it the satisfaction.
My mind and liver maybe, but not my soul.
BYE THE NUMBERS:
· 412,935 – Number of children born in Nepal in 2022.
· 218,074 – Number of
male children born in Nepal in 2022 (52.8%).
· 194,861 – Number of
female children born in Nepal in 2022 (47.3%).
· 127 – Number of boys
born for every 100 females in the Arghakhanchi district. This discrepancy
is due to illegal sex-selective surgeries.
· 42,000 – Number of
Nepalis who died due to indoor and outdoor air pollution in 2019.
· 2.4 – Amount in billions of dollars the Boy Scouts of
America has been ordered to pay to thousands of sex abuse victims.
· 18,395 – Number of illicit drug offenders caught in
South Korea in 2022.
· 6.13 – Amount in millions of US dollars paid for a
Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton composed of bones from three different T-Rexes.
· 15,000 – Monthly minimum wage in Nepali rupees ($115).
· 1,009 – Number of permits granted by Nepal’s
Department of Tourism to climb 23 of the country’s mountains this spring season
to 779 men and 230 women.
· 718 – Amount in millions of rupees paid for those
permits ($5.49 million).
· 454 – Number of permits granted to climb Mt.
Sagarmatha (Mt. Everest).
· 4,969 – Number of The Jerry Springer Show
episodes from the grandfather of Trash TV.
· 4,533 – Number of students in Dhangadhi who took
Nepal’s national grade eight Basic Level Examination for the 2022-23 academic
session.
· 1,533 – Number of students in Dhangadhi who passed
their grade eight BLE.
· 106 – Number of public and private schools in
Dhangadhi.
· 18 – Number of schools with zero students who passed.
· 13 – Number of schools with one student who passed.
· 2,455 – Number of unruly passengers reported in the US
in 2022.
· 2,700 – Number of people killed by snakebites annually
in Nepal (mostly women and children).
· 70,000 – Amount in tons of dog meat provided annually
by farmer members of the Korean Association of Edible Dog to the estimated 10
million Koreans who eat the meat.
· 1,150 – Number of dog farms in Korea in 2022.
· 520,000 – Number of dogs raised in those farms in
2022, down 35 percent from 2017.
peace,
samiam NEARING
aka: Reverend samiam, Nut ‘n Bone, professa kimchi killa,
Richard Lichman, Captain Beer, Dunkin' Doze Nuts, Testicles, Tiny Dick, and The Cowboy from Hell!
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