But most old people I see on the streets look frail and worn out. [break]
So, I imagine things they’ve been through – maybe they survived the earthquake of 1934, remember a time when Nepali Congress was the rebellious new group in town and when Kathmandu was actually pretty.
I wonder what they think of today – of the pollution we create, our iPhones and our choice in music.
I look at my mother as the doctor crosses more and more things off of the list of what she can eat and I feebly try and massage that specific corner of her back that is aching today. And my mom’s not that old. People my grandmother’s age though – their limbs must hurt and their eyes must ache.
It must be frustrating to have ears that aren’t as sharp and muscles that have gone limp.
The thing about Nepal is we’re told we actually love and respect our elders. We’re supposedly a country that does not treat senior citizens as second class. But, when I get on the overcrowded buses, micros and tempos of Nepal, I don’t know if that’s true.
A few months ago, I jumped in to a bus that wasn’t as crowded as it could have been. There were no seats left and the bus slowly packed in more and more bodies.
I’d have preferred a seat, but I’m tall enough to comfortably reach the bar and my legs are strong enough to brace myself against unruly potholes and even unrulier driving.
As I adjusted my bag to prepare myself from my position I noticed a tiny grandmother. She was squeezed between two young and larger people whose hands tightly grasped the bar on either side. And, since she was small and in the middle she couldn’t exactly reach over and hold on to a seat.
You’d think somebody – in a country like Nepal – would offer their seat and not need laws and prodding from the state that indicate one must do so.
But, no. I looked around, but everyone was busy doing their own thing – listening to music, talking to friend, spacing out. As the bus was about to jerk to a start I imagined she wondering whether she was packed tightly enough between the two men to be okay.
I have such a big mouth and I always talk too much (and that’s just what my loved ones who tell me that to my face say, imagine what others say behind my back!) so I figured I best use it.
A rather large man somewhere in his late 20s was sitting in the very first row. (Apologies for being a sexist but asking young men is the easiest because they are, by standards of society, supposed to be the strongest.)
When I asked him if he’d offer his seat to the old lady, he had the guts to refuse, “Kina?” he asked. Why? Seriously, that was his question. Wasn’t old age (forget the fact that she was so small) not obvious enough? So I said just that. He responded with, “Why don’t you women stand up and us men sit down?” I didn’t even know what to say to that. (Honestly, what would you have said?).
So, I very calmly and loudly (because getting the attention and disapproving glances from other passengers always work like a charm in these cases) said “Because I’m sure you have a mother who could use a seat when your legs are as strong as they are”. He got up. Victory!
It’s a shame it was that hard to find a seat for an old woman like her.
Of everything she’s been through, it’s really embarrassing on the part of us, especially the young and strong, to disregard people like her.
Between their weaker bodies having to push against others to get on a bus and their shaking legs trying to keep sturdy during the journey maybe they need someone to consider their plight.
Maybe this ongoing banda called by an army of enforcers – National Federation of Nepal Transport Entrepreneurs, Federation of Nepal Truck, Tanker and Transport Entrepreneurs, Nepal Petroleum Transport Entrepreneurs and Federation of Transport Entrepreneurs – could consider offering discount cards and preferential seats in vehicles for the weakest of us.
Ah, wishful thinking huh?
For more Nepali Keti, visit nepaliketi.net
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