Four Cakes (A Birthday in Bhutan)
I didn’t think this would be the case, but I had an amazing birthday in Bhutan. For people who don’t celebrate their own birthdays, my Bhutanese students sure know how to celebrate someone else’s. My students went all out to make me feel special – all this effort and all this preparation – and it worked. It totally worked. I felt appreciated and honored and just so darn happy.
Ever since I arrived in Kanglung Primary School, students have been asking me when my birthday was. Even back in March they were already doing it. By the time September 5 came around, the eve of my birthday, student after student kept asking me, “Tomorrow’s your birthday, ma’am?” As I walked home that day, students continued to ask and the news even trickled to the people in town.
On my actual birthday, my first two classes of the day – 6A and 6B – were great with some students handing me birthday cards and wrapped gifts. I guess I expected the cards, but the gifts were a surprise. As I approached my third class of the morning, 5A, a student stopped me before I got to the classroom. They instructed me to close my eyes. I did, and a hand led me cautiously to the entrance of the room. I stepped over the threshold and was told I could open my eyes. On the teacher’s desk was a homemade cake. Balloons were taped to the blackboard.
I tried my hardest to hold them in, but I shed a few tears of happiness and surprise. A student handed me an open safety pin and the students told me to pop the balloons. When popped, the balloon in the center dropped confetti. With each pop, the students clapped. With the knife that had been placed next to the cake, I cut a small sliver of the cake and ate it, praising each bite. I offered the cake to the students a couple of times, but they declined and insisted it was mine. I should’ve offered a third time, as is traditional in Bhutan. As the birthday girl, I gave each student a piece of candy, which is also traditional, but it seemed too small a token of gratitude for what they had done for me.
For my 4th class of the day, 5B, a cake, candy, soda, a birthday poster, and more balloons welcomed me. There were no tears that time, but I was beyond surprised and grateful. This time, the class did allow me to share the cake, so everyone got a bite of cake and a sip of soda. I repeated the same procedure with the balloons with the assistance of a student’s safety pin and everyone was thrilled. I gave out more candy. What was different about the 5B celebration was the singing. Two students came to the front of the class and sang songs. One student sang Happy Birthday in English which transitioned into the Dzongkha version.
At 12:30, which is lunchtime, I was blindfolded by one of my 6A students and led into our classroom. There was another cake, a bigger one, balloons, flowers, a big bowl of cut up fruit and vegetables, biscuits, juice, and a decorated blackboard. My class had gone all out. They borrowed mugs from the school, the speaker and mic, and brought in a lot of stuff from their own homes to make the event a party. Kiran, who seemed to have done the majority of the planning, even brought in his mother’s cell phone, which when held up next to the microphone, provided the party with some tunes. There was dancing, singing, and a lot of nonsense. The students were elated, giddy with happiness, and I was too. Even though I know Rabsel was exaggerating, he said, “This is the happiest day of my life.” The students had pooled money together and enlisted the help of Kiran’s mother to bake the cake to throw the party for me.
The rest of the day was spent in a meeting that lasted three hours. I walked home after 6 and when I walked into the house, I saw two pairs of little blue plastic sandals in the shoe pile that could only belong to children. In the living room sat two small girls, one I recognized, one I didn’t. Scott told me later that they had waited for a while, left and came running back when they saw me coming up the hill. As soon as I walked in, they each handed me a wrapped present and wished me Happy Birthday. One of the girls is Class 4 Ugyen, the daughter of the family who owns Shonzy. The other girl was in PP (the equivalent of kindergarten), the little sister of one of my students whose family lives across the street. I was exhausted from the day and the meeting and hungry for something that wasn’t cake, but I knew I had to sit with the girls. I still had leftover candy from the day so I gave them some and started to ask them some questions. Soon, the doorbell rang. Two girls from the neighboring family walked in holding presents, excitedly wishing me Happy Birthday. They joined us. I gave them candy and we enjoyed pieces of the birthday cake I didn’t get to share with my class. Soon, the doorbell sounded again, and there was a group of neighborhood boys crowded at the doorway. Two of my students were in the gaggle and they both came into the house followed by their little brothers. I was given two pieces of folded up paper. They joined the rest of the students on the chairs and couch. More cake and candy were given. While there were now various groups of children, I tried to keep the conversation going among all of us. I learned about inter-neighborhood crushes, they sang happy birthday in two languages, I took their pictures.
And finally, after 7 pm, I said it was time for me to cook dinner. The generous students took their cue and shuffled out of my house, again wishing me happy birthday, thanking me for the cake and candy and I thanked them over and over.
The fourth cake to mention was actually the first. The Saturday before my birthday, Scott invited some friends over to the house and we celebrated with drinks, momos, chili chops, brownies and the best cake that’s ever been made in Bhutan. Scott baked a large moist cinnamon, cardamom, peach cake, a recipe derived from Martha Stewart, and it was a success. Everyone at the gathering got a slice and with some help from me, the cake was polished off that night.
Four cakes in Bhutan for 31 years. Not too bad. It wasn’t the best day of my life but it might be the best birthday I’ve ever had.
Ever since I arrived in Kanglung Primary School, students have been asking me when my birthday was. Even back in March they were already doing it. By the time September 5 came around, the eve of my birthday, student after student kept asking me, “Tomorrow’s your birthday, ma’am?” As I walked home that day, students continued to ask and the news even trickled to the people in town.
On my actual birthday, my first two classes of the day – 6A and 6B – were great with some students handing me birthday cards and wrapped gifts. I guess I expected the cards, but the gifts were a surprise. As I approached my third class of the morning, 5A, a student stopped me before I got to the classroom. They instructed me to close my eyes. I did, and a hand led me cautiously to the entrance of the room. I stepped over the threshold and was told I could open my eyes. On the teacher’s desk was a homemade cake. Balloons were taped to the blackboard.
I tried my hardest to hold them in, but I shed a few tears of happiness and surprise. A student handed me an open safety pin and the students told me to pop the balloons. When popped, the balloon in the center dropped confetti. With each pop, the students clapped. With the knife that had been placed next to the cake, I cut a small sliver of the cake and ate it, praising each bite. I offered the cake to the students a couple of times, but they declined and insisted it was mine. I should’ve offered a third time, as is traditional in Bhutan. As the birthday girl, I gave each student a piece of candy, which is also traditional, but it seemed too small a token of gratitude for what they had done for me. For my 4th class of the day, 5B, a cake, candy, soda, a birthday poster, and more balloons welcomed me. There were no tears that time, but I was beyond surprised and grateful. This time, the class did allow me to share the cake, so everyone got a bite of cake and a sip of soda. I repeated the same procedure with the balloons with the assistance of a student’s safety pin and everyone was thrilled. I gave out more candy. What was different about the 5B celebration was the singing. Two students came to the front of the class and sang songs. One student sang Happy Birthday in English which transitioned into the Dzongkha version.
At 12:30, which is lunchtime, I was blindfolded by one of my 6A students and led into our classroom. There was another cake, a bigger one, balloons, flowers, a big bowl of cut up fruit and vegetables, biscuits, juice, and a decorated blackboard. My class had gone all out. They borrowed mugs from the school, the speaker and mic, and brought in a lot of stuff from their own homes to make the event a party. Kiran, who seemed to have done the majority of the planning, even brought in his mother’s cell phone, which when held up next to the microphone, provided the party with some tunes. There was dancing, singing, and a lot of nonsense. The students were elated, giddy with happiness, and I was too. Even though I know Rabsel was exaggerating, he said, “This is the happiest day of my life.” The students had pooled money together and enlisted the help of Kiran’s mother to bake the cake to throw the party for me.
The rest of the day was spent in a meeting that lasted three hours. I walked home after 6 and when I walked into the house, I saw two pairs of little blue plastic sandals in the shoe pile that could only belong to children. In the living room sat two small girls, one I recognized, one I didn’t. Scott told me later that they had waited for a while, left and came running back when they saw me coming up the hill. As soon as I walked in, they each handed me a wrapped present and wished me Happy Birthday. One of the girls is Class 4 Ugyen, the daughter of the family who owns Shonzy. The other girl was in PP (the equivalent of kindergarten), the little sister of one of my students whose family lives across the street. I was exhausted from the day and the meeting and hungry for something that wasn’t cake, but I knew I had to sit with the girls. I still had leftover candy from the day so I gave them some and started to ask them some questions. Soon, the doorbell rang. Two girls from the neighboring family walked in holding presents, excitedly wishing me Happy Birthday. They joined us. I gave them candy and we enjoyed pieces of the birthday cake I didn’t get to share with my class. Soon, the doorbell sounded again, and there was a group of neighborhood boys crowded at the doorway. Two of my students were in the gaggle and they both came into the house followed by their little brothers. I was given two pieces of folded up paper. They joined the rest of the students on the chairs and couch. More cake and candy were given. While there were now various groups of children, I tried to keep the conversation going among all of us. I learned about inter-neighborhood crushes, they sang happy birthday in two languages, I took their pictures. 
And finally, after 7 pm, I said it was time for me to cook dinner. The generous students took their cue and shuffled out of my house, again wishing me happy birthday, thanking me for the cake and candy and I thanked them over and over.
The fourth cake to mention was actually the first. The Saturday before my birthday, Scott invited some friends over to the house and we celebrated with drinks, momos, chili chops, brownies and the best cake that’s ever been made in Bhutan. Scott baked a large moist cinnamon, cardamom, peach cake, a recipe derived from Martha Stewart, and it was a success. Everyone at the gathering got a slice and with some help from me, the cake was polished off that night.
Four cakes in Bhutan for 31 years. Not too bad. It wasn’t the best day of my life but it might be the best birthday I’ve ever had.
posted by Siapiau | 5:03 PM
1 Comments:
Happy Birthday, Lisa! Scott, you always did strike me as a fan of Martha Stewart.
-ST
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