Toilet for my Mother

My life is all about toilets now. It used to be about blogging once but it took me too far into being the change I was seeking that I could never really come back to full time blogging. If blogging and toilet were two friends I had, 'blogging' would be happy to know that I left him for 'toilet', which is what he wanted. On the contrary, 'toilet' is a jealous guy, he won't let me go back to blogging. He wants all my time and attention for himself.

Having been full time with toilet for more than two years; cleaning, managing, designing, building, lobbying, auditing, campaigning... leaving no shit unturned for the sake of the toilet, one day when Health Minister, Lyonpo Tandin offered Bhutan Toilet Org. to take up a part of project Health Ministry is doing with rural sanitation, I remembered my own village. It's like that carpenter not having a good home. Classic.

Of course, I personally laboured the construction of a modern toilet at home when I was in college and back then mine was among a very few homes in the village with flush toilet attached to the body of the house. But when I look at it now, with my mother aged beyond sixty and her son having become the toilet man, I wonder why I had built it on the ground floor.

Because when we venture into rural toilet project I want people to literally embrace toilet; bring it closer to them and not make it a shabby little room on the ground floor or worse take it far off beyond the kitchen garden. A toilet should be, something I always urge, so close to you that it's the easiest option so that even the oldest member of the family can use it anytime. Remember we too are going to be old someday. At the end, a toilet that is closer will always receive better attention and therefore remain cleaner.

But first I must have it myself in my own village home before I can even think of talking about it. It's about credibility and self-confidence; for people to have trust in my work, and more importantly for me to have trust in myself to take the leap without an ounce of guilt. After all these years I don't want to be another someone who preaches from a book for the sake of a project.

Therefore, this summer break all my siblings came together to gift our mother a toilet that is attached to the first-floor of the house and has all the modern features. Our earlier experience with the stone wall wasn't good; it gave us bulky and ugly walls, therefore, we decided to do the new toilet with bricks. My youngest brother, Tenzin Choda went ahead and started producing concrete bricks. By the time we reached he has produced a staggering 700 pieces. It was enough more than enough for a toilet, and two kitchen sinks.

Toilet for my mother

Our neighbours came around to watch us work and were impressed by the ease of working with bricks and beautiful finish we could achieve with it. I hope they will emulate our way of building a toilet and come up with sexy toilets for themselves.

Three brothers with helping hand from two village friends complete the toilet in five days along side two kitchen sink. Labour charge in my village is high but the two helpers worked over time to deserve the wage, probably motivated by our dedication. One motivation for them was to learn plumbing skill from me. Yes!

There were many new skills I acquired in Bhutan Toilet Org. and one among them is plumbing. The two guys had done many toilet works but they said they could never perfectly connect the sewer lines after putting the rubber washers. They would then seal the joints with a load of concrete plaster. Bad idea. It would leak very soon. I showed them the hack of lubricating the washer with soap to get the perfect joint and they were baffled.

Then, I took over the water connection using CPVC pipes, something I love doing. I gave water connection to the new toilet, the old toilet, kitchen on both floors with a system to control the water pressure (elsewhere it's about low pressure but in my village, the water pressure could blow up a brass bibcock.) When we released the water and it came splashing down into the kitchen sink I could see the joy on my mother's face. My plumbing was perfect; not a leak to be found.

The functional Interior. Final touches waiting for another holiday

The vacation was over from my brother Tenzin and I had to get back to the office but there was one last thing to do, to give our toilet a door. It was going to take one day more, so my brother Samtey stayed back to complete it. But as the Chablop it was my privilege to inaugurate the toilet and I did the honour without the door when no one was around.

I could see the pride in my mother's eyes when she showed our neighbours around the new toilet and I could hear remarks like, 'Pa, it's like a tourist hotel!' and my mother would modestly say, 'It's not quite done yet. They are going to put tiles and geyser later.'

God, it took me half my life to give this practical joy to my mother but now I am at peace. Now I am ready to work with Ministry of Health on the rural sanitation project, where I will use my own example to drive the change.

Rice Cooker Disease?

Before electric rice cooker was introduced in our kitchen cooking rice was an art. Not many could boast about knowing the art. Even pro mothers could land up with bad pots once in a while. I remember how my mother would be on her toes once the rinsed rice was poured into the boiling water. She would keep stirring it and from time to time she would spoon out few grains and feel them between her fingers.

Once she got the right feel, which was when the grain was soften all around except a tiny bit in the centre, she would remove the pot from the oven and drain out the thick rice soup that was half the content of the pot. Then the pot was put back on the oven with low heat. I always wondered how my mother knew how much longer to wait after that because I mostly landed up with either uncooked or burnt rice.

That short story on the art of cooking rice can be a history lesson for young Bhutanese born after 90s. Because after electric rice cooker came cooking rice literally became a child's play. All you have to do is rinse the rice, along with some water pour it in the cooker. Put your index finger to see if the water level is at the first line of your finger above the level of the rice. Close the cooker. Pull the light down to 'cook' and go to sleep till mother comes home to prepare the curry. Of course some can't even do that much.

Besides the art and history of cooking rice there also seems to be solid science involved in it, which is gradually surfacing in the form of a disease. The deadly disease is called diabetes. It's sugary but not at all a sweet disease it mess with. We understand that it is to do with excessive sugar in our blood that our pancreas can't handle. But how did this happen?

Bhutan didn't have this disease before, perhaps there were some cases that we were ignorant about but now it has become so common. Well, the answer could be in the rice cooker. A research in Singapore ( Story published in Strait Times) has shown that a plate of rice is as bad as two cans of sweetened soft drink. Ask yourself how many plates you eat in a day.

We Bhutanese always ate rice, so before you ask me why I blamed rice cooker here let me tell you that before rice cooker we boiled rice till it gave away whatever it contained and drained out the soup. Remember the history lesson. So the rice we were eating didn't contain all the sugar it came with but now we are taking in every bit of sugar it contains because there is no draining out of soup.

We started using rice cookers in 90s and in the last two decades we must have forgotten how to cook rice without rice cooker but we have produced enough diabetic parents to relearn the art of cooking rice the old way.

Courtesy: Strait Times, Singapore 

My Favourite Mushroom

I couldn't gather the english name of my favourite mushroom despite trying two very authentic mushroom websites. In Haa we call it Chenpo Shamo, literally translating to Liver Mushroom. The local name apparently is derived from the size, color and taste because the mushroom looks and taste like one. However it has sharp odour, which many people won't find pleasant. Perhaps that's why it's not very popular though it's said to have high medicinal values. 

If you are an amateur mushroom picker you wouldn't spare a second glance at it because it's huge, ugly and stinky but if I saw it I would dance three time in extreme joy. 

Chenpo Shamo from Home

My love for this mushroom is inherited from my mother among many. When I go home in summers her grandest way of welcoming me is by keeping stock of this mushroom. Nice neighbours would bring along some when they get it knowing how much we love it. 

This summer my mother wasn't very lucky with this mushroom but she has managed to barter two pieces with the neighbour and sent it to me. It was packed in a carton box and as I opened it the scent filled my room. It thrilled me. It was kind of scent that evoked so many memories from village, like certain music does. Recently my cousin visited me from village and even she brought me few pieces. I have sliced it and sun dried it for future consumption. Because this mushroom comes back alive when soaked in water. 

There are various recipes you can try with this mushroom but nothing beats ezay. 
Roast the mushroom lightly, 
Slice it into thin pieces, 
Add chilli powder and finish it with few pinches of thingay. 

If that bitterish liverly taste don't knock you down, tell me! 

Chenpo Shamo Ezay

La Ama- A Book Review

Book Title:  La Ama ... a mother's call
Author:        Chador Wangmo
Publisher:    Miza Books
Published:   2015
Pages:         198
Price:          Nu.250

 La Ama is perhaps the first book I have read completely in a long time. And the very first book I have finished in on sitting. I am a very slow reader and 198 pages would usually take me over a week but Chador Wangmo has begun her book with a tight knot of suspense and I didn't want to put down until I untied it. Soon I found myself too engaged with Dechen Zangmo and wanted to be by her side until she wakes up.

Chador has invented a unique plot that is strategically woven to fly us across time and places and put us in exactly same state of being as the narrator. Chador's mastery over English language brings out the strong waves of emotions that the story has to offer.

The story is about a girl who is abandoned by her parents and abused by people in whom she places her trust. She has surrendered to her fate and hungry husband, until one day it becomes too much for her. In her attempt to escape from her brutal husband and with nowhere to go she meets with an accident. In that deep unknown space between life and death, she finds herself with her mother putting together the pieces of puzzles from the past and reconnecting with her. She discovers that she has been reliving her mother's mistakes.

"was there any reason to fear the outside world when brutal predators existed within the family walls?" (p.126)

I don't want to risk writing any more about the story lest I land up looting the charm from your desire to read yourself. Chador Wangmo has subtly and creatively exposed the secrets hidden behind the closed doors of our society. It's a book every Bhutanese woman must read to find the strength to make right choices at the right time, and it's a book every Bhutanese man must read to ensure that it happens but not as a favour, rather as natural as it should be.

"I wonder if marriage was a union of two souls as it is often said or merely the ownership of one soul over the other." (p.172)

The only problem I saw in the book was on page ii, where she disclaims that "Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead is purely coincidental" When it should read, "Any resemblance to actual person is intentional, and if you are offended you know where to go."

The book has impressed me in more than one way; I loved the title, the cover design, the size and promotion, the paper quality, and the general design. Chador has left no page unturned in the publication of her debut novel. Thank you for writing La Ama.

Mothers Suffering Silently

Today my mother in-law is undergoing a surgery to remove her uterus, and our joy is beyond our anxiety because we are finally removing a part of her body that has bothered her for years and couldn't share with anyone. The womb that has brought my wife and her two siblings to this world has threatened to take her own live had we not known it before it became too late.
Her uterus had prolapsed and had been hanging out through her vagina for years but because of the nature of the disease she has hidden from everyone, even from her daughter. It was during the melom chembo in Haa that her son's sister inlaw sighted it when they toileting outside. She inform my brother inlaw, who in turn took her to the doctor.
This is a common risk among elderly women who give birth at home without the assistant of medical staff, meaning many of our village mothers could be suffering silently. The woman on the next bed is awaiting the same surgery, and shockingly she has hidden the disease for 25 years.
These two ladies are lucky that theirs didn't turn into cancer, which has high probability. But not many will be lucky like them, there for I urge all daughters and educated women to check on your mothers and other elderly women in your family for any secret disease such as this if they are hiding. Your one action in time could save their lives and free them from their worse discomfort. I visited my sister last evening and asked her to check our mother though I have asked her myself without hesitation. She says she doesn't have it but I still want my sister to verify. Please verify your mothers.

To all the friends on Twitter who sent in your wishes, thank you very much, your prayers are very important for us at this hour.


Update 8th Spet 2012: 
There are various causes to this sort of disease and not just unassisted birthing. One woman who underwent the same surgery the next day had left copper T inside for 12 years. It nearly took her life. But all stories in JDWNRH this time had happy ending but not many will be so lucky if they are late in seeking medical help. Therefore please take this issue seriously and do whatever is possible within your capacity to help free women around you from such disease.
My mother in-law is doing great at home now, she is recovering very fast. Thanks for all the support and prayers during our hard times. We will "Never forget the people who help you in your difficult times"

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Location:JDWNRH Thimphu

Why should women have all the breast?

This week the focus is all on the breast and therefore men are out of focus. All these months I have had good nights because both the workable breasts are on my wife's chest. I feel sorry for all the babies whose mothers are working but my daughter enjoyed all the luck. Though a housewife, my wife had her own share of tiring days and sleepless nights, and I hope all her sacrifices will reflect in our little girl. I shall always remain so thankful to my wife for giving up almost everything for our baby.
My baby became a year and eight months on 29th July, and she is still enjoying full-time breastfeeding. But there are many babies born around here who had to be trained to survive without breast milk before their third month in the world because their mothers wouldn't have time to feed them once the maternity leave finishes.
There are lots of awareness campaigns on "6 months compulsory breastfeeding" and working women are given  only four months leave. The irony began right at the gates of heaven- why should God plant both breast on the mother?
When I see the lives of my lady colleagues, who have to sooth their babies on one end and please their boss on other end, I can't help wondering how different the world and the system be if one of the two breasts were on father's chest. I just wish if men could put a breast on their chest or just imagine it at least when they decide how long should the Maternity Leave for Mothers be!