Now I know I owe a debt of superstition. And so, dear readers, here you are.
Many moons ago, Chris and I lived in Kathmandu, Nepal. It was there that we began our journey together as husband and wife, a magical time that we look back on with great fondness. We lived in a two story newish house, set back off a dirt road, a verdant respite from the city. The top terrace of our house had views of the snowy Himalayas and the air up there always seemed so sharp and crisp. The house location required patient walking or transport by four wheel drive but so enamored were we of the place that we enlisted the help of a red, falling-apart Indian jeep. So we lived in that little Nepali house with dog named Pip, and we were happy.
To make our lives easier, we hired a young woman named Durga. Durga seemed to do endless rounds of washing with good cheer and kept our house spotless and tidy. She was also a fine cook, and from the the kitchen would waft smells of simmering, spicy pots of lentils and rice that would always taste good, simply because she made them with her own two capable hands.
One day, when Chris came home, Durga greeted him at the door and asked, shyly, if he could help her in the kitchen. On the kitchen cutting board was a large zucchini and by it a knife. Durga asked if Chris wouldn't mind cutting the zucchini. Durga had never made such requests before but Chris in his I-follow-instructions-way asked Durga how she would like the zucchini cut: in rounds? or diced? Durga said she only wanted Chris to cut the zucchini once in half. Chris did as he was told and that was that. Over dinner (the ratatouille was delicious) he explained to me what had happened.
I knew that there was something behind Durga's request and the next day I asked her about it. It appeared that chopping zucchini or cucumbers is very tricky work - superstitious Nepalis believe that an inappropriate chop of these vegetables is akin to cutting off a man's "vitals," emasculating him so to speak. And so you see, it was out of concern for me, that Durga had made this request of Chris, a request she would go on to make often during our time in Kathmandu.
I must say, I have never looked at a cucumber or zucchini in the same way ever since. But I can assure you that, as far as Chris is concerned, everything seems to be still intact. But I am watching, you know, just in case....
PS I have just wound my way back to Morocco after a 24 hour odyssey that had me spend more than 7 hours with no sleep in the Charles De Gaulle airport. What misery. A useful modern torture technique for those listening with headphones or covertly reading blogs somewhere (and I won't mention where)....
