Is Mathang an In-law or Cousin?

I have a strange reputation among my wife’s kins for ‘shamelessly’ calling every one of her female cousins as my mathang. At first, it made them uncomfortable. But now they are beginning to accept it; either they found wisdom in my justification or they found me too crazy to argue with. 

 I was only stating the obvious that everyone from my wife’s side is my in-law therefore all her cousins become my mathang but by some crazy logic, they say my wife’s mathang (some of her cousins and in-laws) become my ana or ausa and that I must maintain ‘ngotsha’ with them. Wait what? Just because all my sisters become her mathang doesn’t mean all her mathang become my sisters. 

What's Ngotsho?

Ngotsha perhaps has no English equivalent word because the concept doesn’t exist in the western world or maybe I am not aware of. To put it simply, I can’t tell a dirty joke in front of someone with whom I am supposed to maintain ‘ngotsha’ relation, like my mother, sister and other female relatives. But why can't I have some fun with my wife’s mathangs? 

 Let’s understand the meaning of Mathang and Khotkin. Mathang means sister in-law, and Khotkin means brother in-law. So far so good. It becomes little complicated when they are also used to refer to the children of your maternal uncle (ashang) and paternal aunty (ani). 

Your ashang and ani’s children are your first cousins as much as the children of your paternal uncles (aku, Apchi) and maternal aunties (Azim, Amchi). But somehow this old tradition has divided the first cousins into two, making one a lesser cousin than the other. With one group, you are respectfully maintaining ngotsha, and with the other, you are quite the opposite, mischievous and flirty. 

With education, cross culture marriages, and restriction from the law, it’s slowly becoming a thing of the past but not long ago, in the eastern part of the country, your mathangs and khotkins were considered the preferred candidates for marriage. Even the parents encouraged it. In fact, your real Ashang and Ani’s children are branded as Serga Mathang and Serga Khotkin, meaning golden cousins or golden opportunity, to put bluntly. 

The fact that you also call your father in-law ashang, and mother in-law Ani is a not-so-subtle indication that that your maternal uncle can be your father in-law or your paternal aunty your mother in-law. 

So, my argument with my mathang is, how can they call their first cousins and immediate blood relatives as mathang and khotkin while questioning my sanity over calling my marital relatives as mathang?

 Isn’t it? I am, therefore, not going to maintain ngotsha with my wife's mathang. In fact, her mathang will be my double mathang.

 When I heard of Dzongkha Development Commission (DDC) borrowing and approving Mathang and Khotkin as dzongkha words and adding them in dzongkha dictionary I immediately wanted to know what the words would mean in Dzongkha; 

I would personally lobby for them to mean just in-laws and not cousins. Let all cousins be cousins and take away the naughty connotation it gives by calling them mathang.

Disclaimer: The culture of marrying Ashang's daughter seemed to have existed even in the western part of the country. We have a living example in my village, but we are not open or proud about it. Not anymore. 

My Stepfather

(Good people in my life-II)

“Does your stepfather treat you well?”

“You should hit him on the head when he is asleep.”

“Why don’t you go and live with your ani?”

Some people in my village diligently let me know that the man in my family was not my father, and that he would treat me bad. I was only over three years old to understand anything but they made me into a suspicious little boy. It was their usual rustic way of having fun; teaching me all the tricks to challenge my stepfather.

I would happily report to them, “He is scared of me.” Because my stepfather wouldn’t hurt a fly I really thought he was rather scared of me. I wish they had taught something good, or just nothing at all, so I would have thought he was my father or at least as someone who wouldn’t hurt me. I regret having never called him apa. I didn’t even call him aku. I would call him by his name until I was much older.

His real name was Phub Tshewang, which only our grandmother fancied, rest called him Aatsho. A serious infection in his childhood had left him limping. He was a natural introvert who mostly had nothing to say. But he had another dimension to him through which he was capable of expressing himself; he was a man of many skills.

He was homeschooled by his tyrant father who taught him religious scriptures, tailoring, carpentry, and the art of making torma. This set of skills made him one of the most sort-after persons in the village. Perhaps he must have been the only person in the village with such versatility, a man who was useful across all seasons.

Though his earnings kept us well fed in the village, we have had difficult times meeting my school expenses when I grew up enough to need a pair of leather shoes and sports shoes simultaneously. In village we all wore those greenish Chinese canvas shoes, which came for Nu.120, but he understood I couldn’t take those to school. One evening he returned from the town with a pair of sport shoes for me worth Nu.700. It broke my heart, because that was a lot of money in the village and I knew how hard he toiled to save so much, but those were the moment that helped me become a responsible youth. I gingerly wore the shoes for many years.

When I reached high school he started communicated with me more, more than to anybody in his entire life. One evening when he didn’t return from woods, we were so worried at home. We had even planned to go searching for him if only we knew which direction he went to because he wouldn’t tell anyone. He didn’t need company. After dark when he finally returned appearing so casual and took his place near the fire, my mother shouted at him for not informing us about the late arrival. He gave a few words explanation. After she went to bed he quietly called me and showed me his leg. He was in extreme pain. His axe slipped of a log and hit his already limping leg and left a deep gaping wound. He lost much blood. Though freaked out, I carefully nursed his wound and put him to bed. He told to keep it between us. Since then there were lots of things that were kept between just the two of us.

When I had my first girlfriend I showed him her picture and told him everything about her but he laughed at the picture and told me she looked like a sick horse because she was thin and fair. He rather had another girl on his mind for me, a huge wrestler like girl in the neighbourhood. I laughed at his choice too. We were gradually beginning to understand each other.

But he never let me or my brothers touch his tools. He didn’t pass down any of his arts to us. He never wanted us to learn his arts and live his life. He always told us that life would be easier if we rather went to school and used books as our tools. All three sons in the family grew without any of his skills, but his bigger plan worked. We all completed our schooling.

When I was in college first year he came to meet me with some stuff my mother had sent. He had sent a boy to call me behind the college building, thinking I would be embarrassed if he came limping in front of my friends. His shyness and being a loner must have been because of his disability. But I couldn’t be bothered; I took him around and show him my college. I saw pride beaming in his eyes as he scanned the Dzong-like structure of my college.

One of the first things I was going to do after I began earning was to take my stepfather for treatment and give him the comfort of walking without having to limp and wear any kind of shoes. But just one year short of my graduation he passed away. He must have suffered for a long time but he never disclosed it to my mother, if only I was around he would have told me and I would have taken him to hospital on time. He rather went to his mother’s place and died peacefully. More than ten years have passed since but I still couldn’t fully overcome his death. I live the regrets that he never truly knew how I felt about him, I had only begun to open up with him and he left. 

A few years after his death I became a stepfather myself and that’s when I found a new purpose in life and that’s when I found him again in my stepson. Over the years I realised that the best thing my stepfather taught me was the delicate art of being a good stepfather. Jigme was a much better stepson than I had ever been; he knew I was his stepfather yet called me dad. Our affection flowed naturally; stepson to stepson.

Some good people never cease to love you and guide you, not even after their death. 

Life is too Short to Wait for an Abusive Husband to Change

Yesterday by the time I reached home I was ready for a nap because it was a long day at the training centre followed by the long walk back home but I saw my neighbour has taken all their furniture out. I thought the young couple was moving out. Upon inquiry I found out that only the wife was moving out. It sent a chill down my spine because just there months ago I saw them happily moving in together.

She reported that she was assaulted many times, she was almost crying when she said, "Yesterday, he nearly killed me. I cried for help, didn't you hear me?" She showed her bruised body. We sincere apologised for being such a bad neighbour. We assumed that as a newly wed couple they would still be making love. Literally. We misunderstood those late night screams and banging on the wall.

My wife and I uncomfortably helped the wife load her stuff on the pickup along with the three individuals who were related to the young woman. And without a second thought we prepared refreshment for them. 

As I was serving them refreshment I couldn't help saying this to the wife, "We are sorry for not being there to celebrate your marriage but at least we are happy to be here helping you when you chose your freedom out of the abusive relationship." My wife signalled at me to shut up but I went on, "Why didn't you report to the police?" I just wanted the man to hear it. He was actually a good looking man who had a meek smile perpetually fixed on his lips, quite a contrast to his violent nature.

I didn't know who was right or who was wrong, I didn't even ask why they fought at all. The fact that the man has assaulted the woman broke my heart. Who the hell will protect her if the very man on her bed is assaulting her? I could never understand how one could abuse the very person one has chosen out of everybody on earth.

But I was throughly awed by the young woman's courage to walk out of the abusive relationship right away. I have known many women who hung onto their marriages hoping their men would change but the truth is if you don't walk out on the first slap you are just waiting for the next hundred slaps. It's normal to fight in relationships but violence should never be tolerated. Life is too short to wait for an abusive husband to change and it's too personal to worry about public opinions. 

Disclaimer: This post is based on an incident and therefore the focus is on husband being abusive but it can be the other way round too, though not discussed here. 

Following is a story from Miguelon Dell Call about a woman who hung on to her abusive husband. It's widely shared on Facebook.

She's got flowers!

It wasn't her birthday or any other special day.They had their first fight, and he said many cruel things that really hurt her.She knows that he is sorry and that he would not say those things again, because he sent her flowers.

She received flowers again!It was not for their anniversary or any other special day.Last night, he pushed her against a wall and started to choke her.It seemed like a nightmare, she couldn't believe it was real.
When she woke the next morning her body was painful and bruised.
She knows that he must be sorry, because he sent her flowers to forgive.

She received flowers yet again!And this was not mother's day or any other special day.Once again, he has beaten her, it was much more violent than other times.
If she leaves, what would she do?How would she care for her children?
And financial problems?She is afraid of him, but is scared to go.
And she knows that he must be sorry because, as usual, he sent her flowers to forgive.

Today, was a very special day!
She have received piles of bouquets of flowers from all those who knew her and who loved her!It was her funeral.
Last night, he finally killed her. He beat her to death.
If only She had found enough courage to leave,
She would have not received so many flowers today!

Dayscholars in Yangthang

My winter vacation ended with a brief visit to my village for the lochoey. It pains me to realize how growing up took me away from this place I once thought I can never part from. I never had a dream bigger than living in Yangthang. Perhaps this is always going to be my dream now that it is becoming harder by the year to pay my annual visits.

Vacation ends in Yangthang

Every year Yangthang seems like another place to me, everything about it is changing. There are good changes that I am proud of. But there is a price to pay for changing. Sometime I wonder if everything is worth the change.

Once upon my time in village, family was the most important relationship among my folks. Divorce was just a myth we just heard of. Only death could do a couple apart, literally. But now that's a fairy tale. This time when I was home I was introduced to a new term in the village: "Dayscholar". You know the actual meaning of the word but in my village it's a term referring to a person who has returned to their parental home because of marital issues with their spouse. Coming out as a dayscholar sometimes ends in divorce, like in the cases of many couples there. I met some men back in the village who were married into other villages when I was a little boy. They are dayscholars now.

Beautiful Yangthang from the Highway

This is a sad development in a village where marriage was considered sacred. They believe that this is the price they are paying for using cell phones besides the endless recharges.

Strange Case of Failed Parenting

Our school was informed about one of our girls being involved in illicit relationship after school, and after repeated information school followed up and caught the girl red-handed. She was called to office the next day along with her parents but she has brought along her sister, stating her father has gone to a meeting. The sister said that the father was sick. We knew the father was neither sick nor in meeting but knowing that it's a matter to be discussed with female member first we entrusted the sister to understand the risk of innocent girl being involved in such cases and requested her to inform her parents to take care of the girl after school.

The case was dealt sensitively and the girl was given to understand the full gravity of the situation but as if to insult all our effort she asked the school to let her withdraw from the school for a year. She said she would continue next year. We dealt with her plea even more carefully, stating she should discuss with her parents and bring the parents along to school.

That evening we received a call from the girl's mother and the call wasn't just unreasonable but shocking at best. Now you decide what type of home the girl lives in;

"How can you throw out my child from the school? Do you think I don't know any rule? I have watched on TV about school rules and I know my child is allowed to commit mistake for three times before she could be expelled from the school." (Well, that debate on BBS has confused her more than it educated her. Hope she is alone in this confusion)

School explained that her girl was not expelled whatsoever and we wanted her to change her decision of dropping the school for a year. We explained about the case and also the presence of the sister during the process. But the mother went on,

"Why can't my girls make boyfriends? There are many girls like that why are you only pointing at my girl. Your own madams have said that girls are allowed to make boyfriends and that they have to use condom..." (This very discouraging. Over ten lady teachers took weeks to plan the awareness program and invested one whole Saturday in talking to the girls and here someone just misuses the intention of the words.) 

After that school saw no point in discussing the matter with this mother. All our efforts in caring for the girl looked like a failed mission looking at the kind of mother that runs the home. We asked the mother to come to the office to settle the matter- though there was nothing to settle at all. 

I in particular want this woman to swallow every word of hers, but the mother never showed herself in school. The girl's father came with loads of apology. He informed us that his wife was drunk while accusing the school. At least he understood that we were trying to help his daughter, attitude that has become rare among parents.

Students in Love

On my way to town last Sunday, I saw Sangay walking with Chokey with some other friends following them some distance apart. Sangay already had a girl friend from class nine, god know what he’s doing with Chokey. Maybe it was just a walk together.

Yesterday, while I was monitoring their work on JavaScript I saw Sangay’s left arm bearing Chokey’s name in fresh wound. When the class was over I caught hold of his arm and asked what it was all about. But what I didn’t realize was Chokey’s class was coming in for their HTML lesson. The coincidence left both thoroughly blushed.

That evening I called on sangay to tell him not to make his love bloody, and also to ask what happen to his little girl friend from class nine. I held his arm to see that Chokey’s name was buried under fresh wound. He showed me a letter from her saying she has lost faith in him and that she returning to her ex-boyfriend.

I really wanted to sort out things for them and teach them lessons on love but I am their teacher and what I am doing is against the school rules and may be against the mindset of my colleagues. Students are here to learn and not for honeymoon. If people knew I knew about their affair and left it without any disciplinary action against them I may be questioned. And what If school knew I know many such cases?

Well I am an individual and I have the right to exercise my own principles. In fact I may question them instead. Students are here to learn what is required for living. What are they going to do with algebra? Or why should they know about world war? What can they do with their knowledge of chemical reactions? We don’t teach them what they exactly require in life. All of them will once marry, so we must teach them the value of love, faith, and ways to sort out problems in relationship.

Schools treat love affairs as illegal relations and thus never allow it in anyway, so a graduate comes out of college with no idea on how to deal with his first date, how to keep love alive in a relationship, how to propose for marriage, how to care for ones pregnant wife, … Divorce is on the rise! Is there something wrong in their schooling?

Vagabond and Mermaid

Poor tourists are vagabonds as rich vagabonds are tourists. The ones without an address or with countless addresses is in fact vagabond in Bhutanese context. They are the humblest celebrities who roam the street of towns in our country. It is unfortunate though but every soul knew them by their names, be it Lengo Dago in Paro, Wangtsha Nidu in Haa or Uma Lengo in Wangdue. There are many others but none were as associated to one place as these three were. The only place they ever went out from their towns was to heaven straight. All three are no more today and their absence is haunting......

Read More In Bhutan Today Magazine Which is publishing soon.