Locked Out

The other day I locked myself out of my house. Now, for those of you who know me, specifically those who have lived with me know that this is not the first time that I have managed to lock myself out. This was however the first time that I did this while living alone in a foreign country.

The whole thing started when I left my house to go to language class. My housekeeper was still working so I did not need to lock the door behind me, thus throwing me off of my routine, thus me forgetting key. Half way through language class I realized my mistake and knew I needed to act. Nermala, my teacher thought that she should stick around to make sure that the problem would be resolved. In other words I had an audience for this whole locked out debacle.

My idea for retrieving the key was to drive to the street that my housekeeper lives on and start yelling her name for I was not exactly sure which apartment is hers. My thought process being a white girl in a lower class part of town hollering has got to eventually get me to Didi (the housekeeper). Nermal, my language and culture teacher thought this not the best of ideas. She suggested we go to the landlord and ask if Didi might have left it with them. What this means in Nepali culture is that soon the whole house would know of my absentmindedness.
                          (me and Didi)
When my landlord found out that I was locked out he did just as I had anticipated. He called everyone who lives in my building to see if Didi had left the key. To no avail the key was still missing. At this point I was now very anxious to get to Didi’s street and start yelling. My landlord however had other ideas; instead it was time for tea, snacks, and talking. I gave Nermala a questioning look of “can we get out of this” and her response was “we must go and take tea, this is the Nepali way.”

Fast forward two hours later. I now have met the majority of my landlords family for they all live on the top two floors, I have had my fill of yak cheese and Nepali tea, and Nermal has officially set up a time and day when I will go up stairs to the landlords to practice my Nepali. 

As Nermala and I excited the building the phone rang. It was Didi calling to tell the landlord where she had put the key and that their housekeeper took it for safekeeping. As it turns out the landlords’ housekeeper was walking Grandma around the temple during my two-hour visit upstairs. As I walked Nermal to the main road sure enough we ran into the landlord’s housekeeper who deposited the key into my anxious hand.

As Nermal climbed into her taxi to head home she was satisfied that the situation had been resolved and that I now had a local family to practice my Nepali with. As I walked back to my apartment I thought about the past few hours. Here are a few of my conclusions:


*I am now very good as saying “chabi chi na” …I don’t have a key.

*I’m glad that Nermala was there to help me through it all

*Walking the streets and yelling for Didi was a bad idea because “didi “ in Nepali means sister.
*I need to find out my Didi’s real name.
                                                                        
*God chooses to show himself to me the most when I am at my least.