A Dream Job – Part II

The day I got my US student visa, the landline phone at my house kept ringing every few minutes. We didn't have mobile phones back then. Only a few of us had personal computers at home. The browser was Netscape. And all we knew what to do with it was how to log on to Yahoo.

Today, everything is about Facebook, and everything is on Facebook, and nobody seems to use the landline anymore, except our parents. Netscape is long gone but I still use my Yahoo mail account even though I have six other Gmail accounts. After all, we Nepalis are known for our loyalty. Just because you met someone new and cooler doesn't mean you forget your first love.


My relatives congratulated me for getting the US student visa as if I had just come back from a successful mission to Mars. My friends congratulated me for getting entry to the land of Bruce Springsteen. Britney Spears was still a few years away. And of course, they were all looking forward to a nice treat.

I took my high school friends for lunch at Nanglo at Durbar Marg. Everybody wanted Chicken Sizzler. Today, Nanglo is deserted and although I have heard they opened an express joint somewhere in New Road, it will never be the same again. You can eat at cool joints at Durbar Marg but then you'll never get over your first chicken sizzler.

For my neighborhood friends, I took them to the local bhatti at Nakhhu. Today, we have business folks and politicians buying land and houses around that area and up in Bhaisepati. Then, there was only Nakkhu Jail and across the river, a small bhatti. Instead of sizzler, you got choila, hyakula, kachela and all sorts of meat, raw and mostly undercooked. But a jug of Chyaang can turn a bunch of rowdy teenagers into great philosophers.

I landed in America during the summer. Instead of fall classes, I wanted to start early and had enrolled for summer school. The university was nearly empty except a few hundred students. Only one dorm building was open. The cafeteria had rice but only boiled, cold salad and meat products the size of your face. And it wasn't cheap.

I took two classes during the summer. I tried to get a job. But of course, there was no on-campus job around. As a foreign student, I was not allowed to work off-campus. I had already paid for the room and board, as well as the tuition fees for both summer and fall sessions. I just wanted to get a job so that I could taste my first American beer with my own hard-earned money instead of spending my dad's savings for my own recreational activities.

But nevertheless, I got a job at my Professor's house during the weekend. I had to use a lawn mower. I had never used one before. So, I asked an American classmate for help. He was surprised that I had never used one in my life. He kept on asking me how we cut the grass back home. Sickle! He thought I was crazy. Anyway, an hour of training and I was ready for my first job in America. I got twenty bucks for the job and a glass of iced-tea. I went to my dorm room happy. I then asked one of the senior guys to buy me a six-pack of Bud Light. Bud Light tasted like water and six-pack meant six bottles in a case and not the abs things that seems to be in vogue these days.

I had given the first Nepali Rupee I earned from teaching Word Perfect back home to my mother. The first dollar I earned went to buy some beer. And you had to be 21 to buy some booze. I wasn't. I would like to apologize to the US government for breaking the law.

The summer school ended and I had nowhere to go. There were a few job openings on-campus for the fall session. The university radio station was looking for a few DJs. The university newspaper was looking for reporters. There were a few openings for resident assistants (RAs) and you got free room and board. I filled up the application forms and hoped that I would get at least one job so that I could increase my tolerance for watery American beer. I had to move on from the six-pack to the eighteen-pack thing.

My summer in the US began with the Chicago Bulls winning the NBA Finals. It ended with sadness when Princess Diana lost her life in a car crash in Paris. I drank a lot of Bud Light during the NBA finals. I skipped a meal and only drank Mountain Dew to mourn the death of the People's Princess. I did not meet Drew Barrymore that summer not did I go to New York City to watch David Letterman Live. It would have to wait. I was looking forward to the fall session at my university where I would take six classes and get an on-campus job as well. But then, things hardly ever go as planned.

kalumaila99@gmail.com

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