"Amma, your bangles are beautiful."
Such an innocent compliment, or so I thought.
You see, we were sitting on the upstairs balcony, chilling with Amma after a long morning of weeding. With virtually no command of Nepali, I was trying to think of something to say, or rather"communicate", to a woman who speaks little English. Ask a question — no can do. Say something profound in English — ineffective. Give a compliment — now that's the winner. Then miraculously out of the corner of my eye I see a glimmer of gold on Amma's wrist. Bingo!
With a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye, I look at Amma, nod my head, point at her wrist and say "ahhhh...beautiful" in a long and drawn out song. Normally quite stoic, Amma responds with the slightest of smiles, a small little head nod, and a long Nepali phrase that I interpret as "Gee thanks little girl. That is very kind of you to say."
A minute later, Amma leaves the balcony. Not unusual. I don't think much of it.
Two minutes after, she returns with two silvery gold bangles and proceeds to put on MY wrist. She methodically moves them up and down my arm, surveying how they look at different angles. I can tell Amma is not happy with the large size on my delicate wrist. I'm not entirely sure, but I also get the vibe Amma is looking to give this bling to me. I smile, trying to hide my akwardness. I'm not really a bangle sort of girl, and I feel uncomfortable with her generosity.
Amma removes the bracelets, says something, and dashes inside. Whew, maybe I was wrong. Maybe Amma just wanted to show me her bracelets.
Three minutes later she returns with a smaller red plastic bangle. She tries, with great force and seemingly infinite persistance to get the bangle onto my wrist, but to no avail. It's too small. Disappointed, she points down the road and says something that I interpret as 'after lunch'.
I shake my head, not fully understanding the very one sided conversation, and she quickly calls for Anush to come. Amma explains, and Anush translates that we will go to the shop after lunch so that Amma can buy me a bangle. My level of discomfort suddenly increases dramatically.
Not wanting to disappoint, off we go to find the shop that sells clothing, and apparently several variations of bangles. I drag Paul along with one job, and one job only, to capture this event. You will notice the lack of pictures.
We slowly walk with Amma for roughly 500 m at an arduous and painfully slow pace to the shop while she speaks on the phone. Upon our grand entrance to the shop, Amma speaks to the 12 year old sales person, carefully explaining what I can only imagine is a detailed description of what she is looking for. Amna sits on a stool. I'm motioned to sit next to her. I sit. My discomfort level is now through the roof, but I embrace it. I tell myself this is for Amma.
The sales girl brings out a box of red plastic bangles, selects one, and attempts to jam it, and I mean jam it, onto my wrist. Having trouble, her gramma then attempts to convince my hand through the ring. No go.
In true Goldilocks fashion, we try a larger one. It fits! I smile, tell Amma it's beautiful. She motions for a second, for my other wrist. Amma pays her debt of 100 Nepali Rupees ($1 CAD) motions me up, and we leave the shop, both smiling.
After arriving back to the house, Paul finally remembers to take pictures. Amma judges the results and finding the best one, grins and says “facebook”. Who knew an innocent compliment would turn into this moment captured forever.
