A jar of buffalo milk in his hand, he ascended the
stone steps to a village house. He politely called out the owner of the house:
Maili ama, I have brought the milk. After she emptied out the jar he retrieved
it and headed back. Indifferent to the new visitor to the village, I thought he
was on a mission. A young, lean man perhaps in his late teens, what was he
doing in this empty village? Later, I learned more of his story.
He was indeed on a mission. A mission to get
citizenship. He had come to the village to serve his father and cajole out a
VDC (local government) certification of the relationship so that the government
will award him citizenship. Here is a little more of the details:
His father was away in India for most of his
childhood seeking out a livelihood. Himself, his mother and a sibling lived
with his paternal grandfather, a cranky old man. They lived in scarcity, on
subsistence farming, toiling in limited lands, and tending to cattle, on
partially filled stomachs with chronic hunger in a wretched village with a
cranky old man. Father returned back on occasions from a distant land. But he
wasn't bringing in fortunes. Depravity was the rule.
The mother fell in love with another village man, a
young man, neighbor just next doors. They knew they would not be able to live
in the village so she eloped with this young man to Kathmandu. She left her
children behind. Later she retrieved her children and put them to other people's
houses, a common arrangement where the children do the chores of house and if
the owners are kind enough they send them to school.
He grew up to be a young man doing chores in other
people's houses. Lately, he has assisted microbus drivers; collecting bus fees
from passengers, opening and closing the bus doors, running after the moving
vehicle since he has to coordinate calling passengers to the bus and following
the driver's whims of stopping and moving the vehicle. More recently, aspiring
to be a driver himself, he took a driving course. But he was not allowed to
apply for the driving license because he did not have a citizenship
certificate. For citizenship certificate he needed a relationship verified,
that he is the son of a Nepali citizenship-holding father.
When he asked his father for help, his father, who
has been back to the village with a new wife and several children, decided to
take avail of the leverage the situation had provided him. He asked his son to
help him in the village for a while before he would help with the relationship
certificate thing. There he is, this young man, on a mission to cajole out a
VDC certificate that attests that he is a son of a Nepali citizenship-holding
father to fulfill his dreams of becoming a driver. Unfortunately, he has an
uphill battle because the historical precedence is not in his favor; his sister
had served for a fairly long time in a similar effort to cajole out a
certificate, in vain. The father was not impressed.
No chances to take.
Stay on course,
my dear.
For the certificate awaits.
For the dream awaits.
So, it was not indifference, but more likely
caution to stay his course. Lay his head low. Pray in the dark to the distant
god for his father's change of heart. And pursue that hope of ultimately
earning a life where he can live on his toils.
How much of control has this man had in his fate?
What is responsible? Is there anything now that would change his circumstances?
These are the questions.
