Last Wednesday, we took our little girl to the dentist. It seems almost like perfect timing that she is getting her very first dental cleaning three days after Halloween. We were a bit apprehensive taking the mother and her little girl to the dentist when they spoke very limited English and we were without a Nepali translator. But thankfully, the appointment went smoothly. On the train ride to the dental office, the little girl looked nervous, shifting anxiously from side to side and shooting us a nervous smile every once in a while. But when we arrived at the office, only one person could accompany her to the back, so Kiersten went with the little girl and I stayed in the waiting room with the mother. During our wait, the mother went through the magazines and read them to me and I would explain the meanings of various words and phrases.

It seemed like a very long time before Kiersten and Parbati walked out the door leading to the waiting room again. Looking at my watch, it was about 2 ½ hours of straight cleaning. I was told that she had 5 cavities and needed a dental sealant for her teeth, so we scheduled an appointment for her to come back to get the first three of the five cavities filled. On the way home, Parbati was shining. I have never seen her so happy before, not even at her own birthday party! A smile was plastered across her face and she was practically skipping. I bet it must have felt great to have a very clean mouth. We explained and taught her the correct way to brush her teeth on the way home. Overall, our dentist trip was a success!

Today marked the end of Deepavali, or the festival of lights for Hindu believers. Incense sticks were burning in wax, marigold leaves were sprinkled around the rug area, a picture of Luxmi (Hindu goddess) was propped up in front of the prayer paraphenalia, and importantly the colorful dyed powders sat in a tray with multiple dividers on the area rug.

I arrived in what they call “Nepali time”. Lukily since it was Nepali time the real Nepalese didn’t even start their festivities yet.

After Baady chanted a Sanskrit prayer Di and I took leaves soaked in what seemed like a holy water around our younger brothers to the door where fruits and walnuts were placed. We repeated this three times. Finally the two boys Dep and Nanny (baby) sat in front of us waiting for their tiki. Today signified the end of Diwali and also a celebration of brothers and sisters.

Di and I sat across both of the boys and paited the center of their forehead with multiple colors in tandem. After I tika their foreheads I presented them with the toys I bought them yesterday. I bought Dep a fully equipt military set, which included an army jeep, rescue helicoptor, machine guns, barb wire fence, and soldier. The helicoptor even made sounds when you push a certain button! The baby received a tractor, a construction man, and some road signs.

They were thrilled! Di told me when we were at the general store that her brothers wanted the toys so badly, and would make a fuss when her mother told them she couldn’t afford it.

This reminds me of the many children I’ve babysat, taught in a classroom, and even myself when I was little. I suppose children from all socio-economic levels want the same things, that is toys! Children love toys. However, some children’s parents are able to afford these toys and some aren’t. Some parents also do not acquiesce to their children since they want to instill certain moral behavior.

I’ve come to a conclusion that it is unfair to make a speeping generaliztion that all poor children are well-behaved and all rich children are spoiled brats. Because I can tell you now when the two-year old got a glimpse of what was to come the next day he cried until he was blue in the face, impatient to receive his gift on Deepavali. I think what really makes the difference is the parenting. If parents are able to discipline and teach their children proper social behavior I believe for the most part children will grow up to be upstanding people.

As always Ama spoiled Katrina and I with fried roti, pickled mango, daal, rice, curry, and chai tea. I’m starting to find her along with Parbati’s mother’s food insatiable. I look forward to it everytime.

Di asked me a funny question the other day as we were picking up Chrismas tinsil garlands from Family Dollar, “How do American’s know it is time for our festival?” I suppose you can say that Deepavali resembles Christmas in many ways.

Before I share my present, I must continue to share the past. A few weeks ago, the Nepalese celebrated a holiday. I’m not sure what the holiday entailed, or if it really was a holiday. It could have been a Hindu festival or a feast day or a day of remembrance…I’ll have to ask Jimmy about it. Whatever it was, we didn’t see the festivities or music, or costume, or traditions. Jimmy and I arrived a little before seven as usual that evening and the kids were smiley and hyper. There were a good amount of chattering people in the hub and it was the first real display of community that I had witnessed so far. From what I can gather from Jimmy’s stories is that last year was very different for both him and the family. He always had us visit the grandparents’ apartment (the hub) first, but it hadn’t been a real hive of activity until this particular night.

I liked it. Everyone was chattery and loud, the women were laughing, the men almost smiling, and the kids and their homework tidbits were almost being stepped on. There was a small stick of incense trying to smolder on a dish in the living room and all the Nepalis had imperfect globs of red on their foreheads. I was curious, but I’ve made it a habit to keep my questions till Jimmy and I eat dinner alone at the folding table. We have good discussions then. Anyhoo, we were ushered onto the couch and the girls immediately brought us their homework (A. still wasn’t used to me at this time, and he always hung back until Jimmy beckoned). With that, we set to work.

After dinner and after the last of B’s terrible fifth grade math workbook pages were finished (it really doesn’t help that both Jimmy and I are terrible at math), we returned to the hub to say goodbye and goodnight to the grandparents. B. (sorry Jimmy, not sure how to spell her name) motioned for us to sit while her husband (“Grandpa”) and one of their sons smiled. The son brought us a Nepali dessert that was very much like rounds of funnel cake except they were made into circles, like a very thin doughnut. No powdered sugar though, you dip this dessert in a thick sauce. It’s not sweet, but not terribly spicy either. It’s quite good and very different. After that, one of their daughters (or daughters-in-law) got her camera and B. made a big show of coming over to us. When Grandpa joined her, the camera flashed as she handed us each an envelope sealed with a thin reed and the red mixture that matched the mark on their foreheads. Grandpa anointed us and Buggy stuck a collection of short, straw-colored reeds (they looked as if they came from corn) behind Jimmy’s ears and in my hair. We were blessed.

I couldn’t stop smiling. The X’s cared about us enough to include us in their family and to publicly acknowledge what we meant to them.

The X’s live two El stops away from Loyola and those two stops was enough to give CTA passengers time to openly stare at us goofy-faced, white tika-ed kids. But we didn’t care—we’d been blessed by a family who has known so much suffering and heartache and yet who had room enough in their hearts to accept two strange college kids into their lives. The only thing Jimmy and I were worried about was losing our reeds to the Chicago winds.

Jimmy later told me that the red stuff was a mixture of rice, cum cum (or koom koom, not sure about the spelling) powder, and yogurt and that we were “tika”-ed (I can’t guess how to spell that either). Tika is a type of blessing that occurs at every holiday or celebration. He also told me that at weddings, the bride and groom get tika-ed by every guest which means that the couple ends up with a very large mass of red mixture across their foreheads. Jimmy was present at a wedding in the X family last year and I saw pictures of the beautiful bride who had been tika-ed past her hairline.

After I got home and explained to my roommate and boyfriend that no, I was not hurt nor diseased (tika really does not look as bad as all that), I called my parents to tell them to sign onto Skype. Twenty minutes later (that’s actually the shortest amount of time it took for them to figure out how to sign on) and before I could even see them, I heard Mom gasp with her classic “Uck!” As in, what the heck happened to your face?! I tried not to roll my eyes and explained to them about my night. I opened my envelope in front of the webcam. Inside were two five dollar bills. I couldn’t believe it. A family who was surviving on food stamps gave both me and Jimmy ten dollars each…! I felt so shocked and embarrassed—they pay us enough with our dinners and now with their blessing, we don’t need anything more than their friendship and trust. I was humbled. So were my parents. I think this was the first time that they really understood what I was doing with the X’s. I have since used the money to buy things for the children; most recently, a small whiteboard that I intended to help with homework. We pretty much only use it to play hangman lately.

The next day in class, I walked in to see Jimmy excitedly telling Dr. Amick about our previous night. Both of us still had a faint red stain on our foreheads and a bit of a smile that stayed with us throughout the day.