Family Matters

For the second day of the Yongphu Tshechu, Karma, my neighbor and the father of one of my students Sonam, invited me to go with his family. I happily accepted the invitation. Karma’s family, who runs a local shop, set up a vendor’s booth at the tshechu so that’s where his family hung out during the mask dances. Karma made sure that I knew to come back to his family’s booth around lunchtime, so that’s where I found myself around 12:45 on the second day of the Yongphu Tshechu.

With a mother, a father, six children and a visiting aunt, Karma’s family really feels like a family, a machine, a happy machine – most of the time.

During lunch I happily stuffed myself with delicious food that they had packed from home as well as tea and ara. The parents and aunt were eating with me as were a few of the kids. Other kids were passed out under the booth tent, their hands holding on to some kind of candy, or running around. When we were all done, the parents beckoned the second daughter, Eyuphal, to clean up. Gesturing toward Eyuphal, the mother said, “My eldest.” While the mother’s English is fine, it’s rare that she’ll speak it. The comment was meant for me to hear, but Sonam, who is the eldest, heard it. I said, “Isn’t Sonam your oldest?” Sonam, in Sharchop, protested as well. The mother was kidding but Sonam’s face scrunched up and before I knew it, she was full on crying. The mother said, “Just joking,” but that did not comfort Sonam. I guess the second born has become the oldest in practice since Sonam is sometimes too sick to fill that role. Hearing that her mother places that distinction on her younger sister was too much for poor Sonam to handle at that very moment. Minutes later though, another joke was made, a joke not at Sonam’s expense, and Sonam happily laughed.