April Fools

All week we worked to dig the foundation for a community hall in the village of Ursi, a small hamlet of the larger village of Wanla. The village had lost the original community hall in the floods that effected Ladakh in August. From Tuesday to Friday we had worked to dig a foundation by hand into the hillside, and on Friday morning we were starting to set stones for the foundation when construction came to a halt.

Dorje, a villager digging in the farthest trench to the west called for everyone to stop, that he had found something. Everyone dropped shovels, rocks pick axes and plumb lines and ran to the trench. There he showed us what he had hit with his shovel. Bones.

Complete bedlam. Dorje instantly told Jon Mingle we needed to move the site. “All the way there ,” Kunzes translated, pointing up the hill. A furious Jon began arguing with Dorje, as two Meme-lays sank to the ground and began praying forgiveness to the spirit of the disturbed person at the same time telling Dorje that it was ok, we will ask forgiveness, move the grave and go on with the project. Dorje screams that no, we cannot do that, it is terrible luck. Then he tries to leave saying he will have nothing to do with this. John grabs him, makes him sit down. Everyone is yelling. The Meme-lays are praying. The tuft of hair and shattered jaw are lying in the trench.

“We have to move it?! YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!” Jon is yelling at Dorje, as Kunzes proclaims

“Everyone must pray forgiveness! The meme-lays say so.”

“Kunzes, what is the prayer?”

“Well, basically… ‘spirit of the remains we have come here to the place where you rest and disturbed you. Forgive us. We are under you- we are your slaves.’”

“That’s what we should say?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Let’s do this. Everybody, get in the trench and pray!” Nate tells us. All nine of us somberly clamber into the trench, deeply concerned and slightly annoyed at this cultural turn of events. Heads bowed, we begin our ‘Om mani padme hums’ and personal prayers of forgiveness. The eyes of the villagers are on us, and I know that we are doing everything we can to be respectful, but I have to wonder if it is enough since we have just unburied one of their dead ancestors. I am running all this through my head when Jon lifts his head from prayer and says

“Alright guys, that’s enough. Especially because it’s April Fools!”

We are all screaming and the teachers are running from us, and the meme-lays are laughing. My little old meme-lay, Tundup, as innocent as could be, praying for the jaw of a yak and making us look like fools. Damn good planning. My hat’s off to the teachers and the villagers who plotted that. When I came for lunch my Achay-lay and Ama-lay were giggling. This morning leaving that village, those sweet people who shared their homes with me this week, I thanked them not only for welcoming me into their homes, but for sharing their stories, letting me hold their children and chase their animals, but also for helping in the best April Fool’s prank I have ever been the victim of. And my Ama-lay laughed and put a hand on my cheek and asked me to come back in Ladakhi. I couldn’t understand her words, but her smile, up to her eyes, I could understand. That is a language that transcends culture and brings together all people. So does a good laugh.

Moya