She left her village only two years ago, “I still can’t understand the rush in the city,” she smiles her eyes never off the road. [break]
Gyanu Tamang, 22, arrived to Kathmandu on a casual visit. Her elder brother lived in this city and before she could realize she had made up her mind that she wanted to live here and earn a living here. For her the city offered abundant opportunities.
She found a copious amount of things attractive - the tall buildings, the loud music coming from these tall buildings and the hoards of people on the streets. There was, however, one particular thing that fascinated her the most- the female tempo drivers.
“Most of time there was a female driver in the tempo I boarded. It amazed me,” she explains, the wide grin across her face stands as a proof. During those days she kept pondering over chances to own that vehicle and be like those drivers. Would her parents allow her? Would her brother be okay with her decision? The tension was huge.
“I explained to my parents that this was a better option than staying back at home and working in the fields,” she shares as she stops her tempo near the City Center at Kamalpokhari. Turning her head to the huge building she expresses her delight. “The building looks beautiful in the night.”
A passenger hands over a thousand rupee note and this leaves her annoyed. She asks for change and the retort is a no.
After a few moments of fiddling with her purse she manages to get the change and by that time a traffic police howls at her for halting for too long.
Her tempo speeds along the road as she explains how the little things passengers do make it difficult for her. From handing out big bills or torn ones to fighting over the raised tempo fare, passengers seem to annoy her.
“Many get away paying only 10 rupees when the minimum amount has been set for 13,” she exhales and request all those getting off at Maitidevi to pay already. “I don’t want a second yelling from the traffic police.”
Two young girls get off at the Maitidevi reminding her of her friends back home. She says she has no friends in the city, her face dull with sadness. “I thank the man who created the cell phone,” she giggles “it’s like all my friends and family are stored in it.”
Gyanu has made a few friends while on her job. She shares that there are around ten tempo drivers on that route of her age. Their meet is however, just limited to a brief hello while on the road or at the Sundhara stop. She has a few of theirs numbers stored in her phone and they chat over the phone once in a while.
On her holidays she stays home but not because she likes doing so. “I take a break once in a while but the whole day is used up in washing and cleaning.” Whatever little time remains she plays with her little niece.
Gyanu’s elder brother is in Dubai and therefore it’s only her sister in law and her with the little kid. A little time ago she too dreamt of working in a foreign land.
Explaining her reason behind her desire to leave for Israel she says “we are poor people and they say there’s lots of money abroad.” Her wish, however, wasn’t fulfilled as Gyanu’s educational background didn’t qualify her as a worker.
“They said I needed to at least pass the SLC examination and learn English.” Gyanu had to leave school while at grade five owing to her family’s financial background.
With only a small land which her parents’ farm on and the family savings used up for her brothers Dubai employment she had no option but to do what she is doing now.
As her tempo passes through the Pashupainath temple she bows her head making a wish. “God loves everyone,” she says, with a sad smile this time. From the two years of riding through the city she has managed to save a small amount of money.
Her dream at this point of life is to get beauty parlor training and further own a saloon. “This is not an easy job,” she says adding, “we go through a lot here from verbal to sexual harassment and that too, everyday.”
It’s dusk by now and the tempo reaches its far end Mahankal, Tinchule. As she stretches her body and manages the money from this trip she gets ready for the next ride.
Two more trips to go to call it a day and this is only her seventh one. “Its going to be eight by the time I reach home and I start at five tomorrow.”
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