I am a Woman!

I am a woman. A woman in Nepal
A woman far behind that capital.
The woman that you see with her baby on her back walking down the street carrying rice and vegetables and firewood.
It’s silent. It’s dark. It’s midnight.
I hold my knees to my chest and watch my tears drip down to wet the mud floor.
Suddenly, the strong wind blows through my as the candle light grows dim.
I watch my babies sleep and wait with dread for him to come home.
I wonder if he will even come. I hear the door open with the barking dogs.
My heart begins to beat fast and faster.
To be afraid in your own home, with your own children, of your own husband. Even the thought of him makes me tremble, not to mention the thought of him in my own bed.

I am woman, a woman in Nepal
The woman you see in her maxi dress with her tika, her sindur, basking in the sun in front of her ghumti shop.
I wait for him to stumble in with his dirty shoes.
I wait for the smells of roxy on his breathe. 5 years it has been. 5 years of this.
5 years of being married, too young to leave and then bow my head to his. God save me??
Save me from this unholy society that makes monsters of boys, and lets them to grow to take beauty from our girls. But what did I do to deserve this? It’s intolerable.
I can’t bear this anymore but how do I leave?
The shame I would bring to my family. Dejected.

I am a woman. A woman in Nepal

The one you see in the rice paddies barefoot with mud on her feet surrounded by the brightest green you have ever seen, with gold shimmering on her ears.
When I was small I dreamed of going on adventures, of passing my SLC (School Leaving Certificate), of leaving my village, flying in the airplanes in the sky.
I would walk up into the hills and talk to the rainbows and sing with birds and dance in the rain.
But what has this culture done to me? Where has that girl gone?
Now, I have become a woman, a woman in Nepal.
Torn like tissues paper, tossed in the hamper, bruised and broken.
Nobody can pull me back.

I am woman, a woman in Nepal.
At night to eat I grind up red chili pepper and salt and eat it with stale rice to fill my belly so that my milk keeps coming for my baby.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled, the last time I felt joy.
Maybe the day my daughter was born just for a moment until I brought her home wrapped in that pink blanket and he was angry that she wasn’t a son.
Even holding his baby for nine months couldn’t make him happy.
In return for my love and devotion and duty, I get beating. Shame.

I am a woman, a woman in Nepal

The one you nursing her baby on the front stoop and bowing her head in Namaste.
But now I see doko and a cord rope hanging at the side of door. Agony.
I can’t stay alive with this pain anymore.
The choice feels clear. It’s night again and he should be home any moment.
I stand up in the doko, tighten the rope and my face hot and sticky with tears.
I take my last breathe I feel my last heartbeat. I gasp for air just like that I am no longer here.

I am a woman
A woman in Nepal where suicide is the number one killer of woman of child bearing ages.
Suicide. Suicide. Can you hear me? Its suicide.
Not HIV or child birth or tuberculosis.
Women we are dying because we are hopeless.
We are not dying anymore of starvation.
We are dying of desperation.

I am a woman, a woman in Nepal
I wish you knew how much I love my country.
But this is enough already. Politics leaders, I want an action.
I want an education instead of husband.
I want freedom instead of a feardom.
I want happiness instead of a pain.
I want justice, I want respect, I want life, I just want a chance!!