Mushroom hunters

foraging mushrooms with my dad in Jhumlawang

It was a good day. Sun and cloud were playing hide and seek creating a komorebi (sunbeam)effect in the forest near Syaubaari, Jhumlawang, where my dad and I were looking for edible wild mushrooms. It had rained the night before, so the ground was damp and squishy, giving leeches a chance to try to climb up my gumboots and onto my legs. 

But I was not concerned. I had put on thick, long socks. The squelching earth under my feet felt soft as I took a deep breath of air that smelled of woods and decaying leaves. Then I noticed an unusual-looking mushroom in the distance. I walked towards it quickly and crouched next to the big decaying log on which it was growing. Hidden behind the inner parts of the log’s bark was a bunch of whitish-colored mushrooms with branches that had blunt roundish tips. I realised I had never seen such a mushroom before. I wondered if it was edible. “Should I pick it or not?” I bent down looking closer. “What if it is poisonous?” I thought.

‘Baba!’ ‘Babaaa!’ ‘Babaaaaa ooooooo!’

I called for my dad, louder each time because the nearby Tumbasha rivulet had swelled up and was making too much noise for us to hear each other. He had gone a little further into the forest, where he used to look in previous years, to check other logs for horma (oyster) mushrooms.

“Is it edible?” I asked as I pointed at the mushroom.  He crouched next to me, checked it, and smiled.

“You have found the perfect mushroom!” he said proudly, “It is a coveted one.”

My feelings of doubt and confusion were replaced with happiness when I saw how delighted and proud he was of my find. All morning we had not found enough mushrooms to have as a tarkari (curry) for our dinner. 

“We call it musakane (mouse-ear),” he laughed.  

He showed me the blunt looking tips of the bunch which were shaped like the ears of mouse. “Do you see the similarities?” he asked.

I nodded happily. The similarities made me laugh. A warm feeling rose inside me, and we stood together. “I wonder what it tastes like?” I asked quickly. 

“It is slightly crunchy and tastes divine with chillies, onions, garlic and tomato”, he explained while my mouth watered thinking about the delicacy we were going to have for dinner. “Mmmmm, adding ‘timmur (sichuan pepper) is a must!” my father continued as he licked his lips.

My dad asked me to check the log for more musakane mushrooms. He explained that they are usually found in abundance. I walked round the log, crouched on my knees, and checked underneath it and lo and behold! There were more! 

I was so excited!

“Just find the root of the bunch and give a gentle tug,” my dad advised when he saw me struggle to pick them up. As we picked one bunch after the other, our bag was also getting full. I was about to pick the last one when he stopped me.

“Let’s leave this one,” he said, smiling. “We need something for next year too, don’t we?”

I was happy to do so. If it was like a ‘seed’ for next year, then that was good. But if someone else came foraging and found it, then they would also get some musakane mushrooms like us for their dinner. 

When we returned home that day, I was extremely pleased with myself for finding a full bag of mushrooms and a new species at that. But this was not an unusual feeling. With each visit to the forest with my dad, I had always learnt something different about mushrooms. He would take me to the forest areas where varieties of mushrooms could be found and in great detail, he would describe the type of trees and logs which would have a particular type of mushroom and in which month of the year they flourished. He taught me how to distinguish between the mushrooms which were edible, and which were not. He was also cautious when it came to certain mushrooms and insisted that I not touch the ones which were poisonous. He would go into great lengths to explain how to recognise them, to look for subtle differences in colour and shape and distinctive markings. I always felt safe with him around.

As we walked together, each with our hand woven bags and walking sticks, he would tell me stories of how he learnt to recognise edible and non-edible mushrooms from his parents, his shepherd uncles, or his cow-herder cousins. He would show me the mushrooms and tell me about their nutritional and medicinal values, and how we could make them tastier for our tastebuds.

“To find mushrooms, you must be familiar with forest, trees and know your logs,” he would repeat on each visit we took. I enjoyed these moments immensely with him. So, I grew up eagerly waiting for mushroom season, for my mushroom hunting walks with him in the nearby forest and stories of mushrooms that followed.  

Therefore, on the day I found musakane in August 2019, it was like reliving my childhood with my dad. After decades of separation, we were connecting again over wild mushroom foraging. 

As a young girl, I had been sent to Kathmandu from Jhumlawang, Rukum when the Maoist insurgency began in the country, to continue my further education. With the ongoing civil war and no other means of connection except unreliable postal system, the learning about mushrooms stopped. When I was finally able to return to my village during a cease-fire, nine years had already passed. And it was not the mushroom season. To my disappointment, the other few visits I could make in the following years were in different seasons too. 

However, in this gap, I had a profound realisation. While I was studying in Durham, England I used to take long walks in the woods behind the Durham University looking for familiar herbs, flowers and fruits, trees and bushes, landscape, and mushrooms. And when I found the mushrooms, the thrill and comfort I felt made my homesickness a little less and breathing a little easier. I realised that finding mushrooms was like connecting with my dad, my village, my roots. No matter which part of the world I was in, the physical distance no longer mattered. When I saw the mushrooms I would be happy because it brought back memories of me walking with him in the forest, foraging mushrooms, bonding over mushrooms, learning about mushrooms, and listening to stories about people and mushrooms of Jhumlawang.

But I could never dare to touch the mushrooms found in the forests of Europe. Even when they looked so very similar to the ones found in Jhumlawang, I never had the confidence to give a gentle tug and pick them up for dinner. I could only look, take pictures, and experience the happiness of my find. There was no one to pat me on the back and look at me with pride and smiling eyes for my discovery. No one to stand next to me to tell me which months of the year, which trees and which logs held the most delicious mushrooms on this side of the world. In fact, to my utter disbelief, I came to learn that in many countries foraging mushrooms was highly discouraged and in some it was illegal. So, while finding mushrooms in a foreign land took me to my happy childhood of foraging with my dad in Jhumlawang and gave me a sense of being closer to the home, it also made me feel not quite at home. 

Having spent too long feeling not quite at home, to my delight, I was able to return to Jhumlawang in March 2021 for a longer stay. It was a just few weeks before the six-month-long wild mushroom season was to begin. Right after the dry spell of winter when people of Jhumlawang struggle to find vegetables for curry, the mushroom season is welcomed with excitement and relief. Then the forest comes alive with different types of mushrooms throughout the season, as if it is taking turns to feed the locals one after another, as if it is ensuring they recover from the dry spell of the winter. So, children and adults alike make plans for foraging tours. They go alone or in groups as soon as it rains for a few days in May and the forest is alive with not only the chirping of birds but also their giggles, sounds of calling each other and singing. A sudden rendezvous can happen amongst friends and checking each other’s bags to see what was found, then exchanging and sharing of mushrooms to ensure that all will get to eat enough is a common occurrence. Once they return from the foraging, mushrooms and other wild vegetables are also gifted to the elderly or the ones who no longer manage to go foraging. 

Not to miss this chance, my dad, now older, slower, and weaker than I remembered he used to be, excitedly planned for our mushroom foraging walks. 

“What is there for my vegetarian daughter to eat but mushrooms!” he laughed and insisted on going foraging. I was concerned for him as he was not well, and COVID -19 cases were on the rise. But he was adamant about it. So, one fine day, we strolled off into the forest, our bags over our shoulders, our pointed walking sticks prodding the earth as we checked every log. He walked in front as he always did, looking for the logs he knew that used to have mushrooms. Many of the logs were no longer there.

“The ones I knew have long decayed away” he sighed during our search and then he philosophically added, “Reminds one of own decaying away, doesn’t it?” 

I smiled at him, trying to reassure him, but feeling like a giant against his now smaller frame.

Even after half a day of searching, we could not find enough mushrooms to even fill the pot for the day’s dinner. My father could see my frustration and disappointment. 

“The eight-months’ long drought of last year must be the reason that there are not many mushrooms this season,” he spoke softly, summarising our frustration. But we did not give up hope of finding more. We walked further to the log where we had found musakane two years back. But to our disappointment, there was no musakane nor other types of mushrooms either. The log had almost decayed away too.

“Don’t you worry,” he consoled me, “We will find something.” True to his prediction we found
some mauripane mushrooms on our way back. Mauripane is popular amongst locals with its woody flavour and is generally cooked with chillies, potatoes, garlic, tomato, and Sichuan pepper. I had easily recognized it on the bark of a rayesh tree as I had been introduced to it by him during one of our foraging walks in my childhood. I raised my head and looked at him for confirmation and there it was: a smile and pride at my find. 

[This story was written during the Writeshop ''Learn to write your own Agroecology Stories of Change'' held in June 2021 and organized by Barefoot Guide Connection, Agroecology Knowledge Hub and Family Farming Knowledge Platform. It is published at: https://www.fao.org/family-farming/detail/en/c/1600658/]

Fragments!

"One"

Closer the van got, heavier the raindrops splattered on the windshields. Like every night the Van carrying me passed by her house. But, unlike other nights the feeling was empty. I knew, even if I knocked on the door, she won't be there.

She had said her goodbyes.

The realization hit me hard. It knocked me out of my breath. Tears wailed up. I couldn’t see properly. I wanted the driver to stop driving and let me out of it. I wanted rain to totally drench me.

I wanted to let my tears fall as free as they were trying to be...

That day, still shaken from the news, I was trying to come to terms with her decision. Shutting my eyes I tried remembering our days, those smiles, comfortable vibes and short sweet talks. But those memories were not clear.

They were just fragments!

Then, I had the usual reaction. Hair on my neck gave me the signal. I felt her presence. She sat right next to me on the cold slate.

"Of all people, it has to be you."

She said with her usual trademark teasing tone. It was not difficult for me to recognize that slight-husky voice of hers.

That tone, that voice was what had made me turn my head. It was our first day at college and that voice had instinctively made me look at her direction. Fair looking, with cool and playful attitude, from first glance I had liked her.

But, now things had changed to the level that it would never be the same. I got angry at her nearness; her casualness.

"Yeah, you took exact words out of my mind." I replied. I could feel the bitterness on my own tone. Not to my surprise, she gave hers' that famous loud laugh again.

"Why?" I asked. "The 'You' I knew was not like that!"

"But, you were not that much surprised!" she declared and turned the table, "Why is it? I wonder, is it because we share the similar secret? "

I knew what she was talking about. And I also knew that she was deliberately trying to change the subject. But, by now, I mean after spending more than 5 years in same classroom, she knows how stubborn I am. So, before I asked again, she shifted her weight and spoke.

"It was a moment's decision."

I said nothing.

I couldn't say anything, anyway.

My mind was blank.

She spoke again. This time, louder, "I have nothing more to say! Don't ask me anything, anymore about it."

I understood.

If I wouldn't, who else could?

My anger vanished in thin air. Just like that. I didn't know what to say. For the first time, she had made me loss at words. But, I had to speak something. I didn't know how much time we had. So, I just blurted out what came first in my mind.

"Did you know, I always found you cool and really loved seeing you? You used to make my day!"

'Oh, I didn't say that! So embarrassing!' my head talked back. But, surprisingly my heart felt some relief.

"Yeah, from the time we spent talking in bus. I remember," She said, "I think we understood each other since then."

She was silent, for sometime.

Then, there was a slight chuckle. After sometime, she took a deep breath and said, "Those were good days, good memories."

"Though subjects were usually stupid and scattered, talking with you was like therapy. That is why it was such a pleasant surprise when we ended up in same college again,' Shed added.

"But, I was not there when you actually needed me," I felt the stabbing pain in my chest, "Sorry!" I said.

"Not your fault."

"I am worried about you." I blurted again.

"Are you scared?" she asked

"Are you?" I barely managed to ask her back.

To which she replied, "A lil bit!"

Her voice didn't quiver like mine.

"I can't remember your face. Its all blur," I choked. Tears started falling freely.

"…I didn’t know you were such a cry-baby!" Then she was silent again. I bet if I could see her I would have seen tears falling from her eyes as well. In her every breath, I could hear her silent cry.

We stayed like that for how long, I have no idea. But, after my eyes were swollen and tears stopped she broke the silence.

"You know, we are somehow same," with composed and thoughtful voice she said, "It was fate! We were to meet, have this discussion."

"What you mean?" I didn't understand her.

"You know, it's like two-way therapy," she said with light tone.

"You are just a hallucination!" I declared.

"Yeah, you wish!" she laughed.

She was still laughing loud when all of a sudden, I heard her say, "My time is up!"

I could not feel her by my side.

With passing nanoseconds she was going further and further away from me. Her voice got more and more difficult to hear.

"Don't call me anymore, not that strongly," she was shouting now, "It will attract you too. With more force than you had experienced and ever imagined."

I didn't have time to reply nor think. I just started running towards her voice. My hands stretched.

"For me, some memories are too painful, I don't want to ever go through them again. So, don't call me or think of me so much that will drag me here again," by then, her voice was just a whisper.

"Goodbye!" her lingering voice had left me cold in there, staring at the sky with empty stretched hands.

Before I could answer her, she was already gone.

Her presence, I couldn’t feel it anymore…

Though I couldn't feel her presence, how could I not think about her? Every moment, my heart misses her and my mind starts searching for her.

Her decision has left the never-healing scar and has opened those old wounds. Those wounds mixed with her memories hunt me. And with that my nightmares come closer.

It's hard to escape; the urge is too strong for me to handle again.

The warning was too late!

LOVE UNEXPRESSED!!!

2005

It started…I don’t know when and how. It just started…My heart leaped up at a glance of him. When they saw him walking across our college, most students (specially girls) could not help but notice him. He was tall and lanky with Aryan look; he had beautiful black eyes just perfect on his fair complexion. His wet-silky black hair flipped back above his forehead and his eyebrows always cocked upward when he was in deep conversation with teachers, friends and everybody. He was tender, thoughtful, charming and profound. And one thing he never forgot to carry with him…SMILE. It was breathtaking.

------ I was scared of him. -------

I used to sit at the second front bench in classroom with my best friend Poo who sat next-left to me. One day I told her about my strange feelings for him and showed him to her. She looked at me with her loving eyes and teasing smile. From that day on, whenever he used to pass by us we looked at each other and giggle. Sometimes when only one of us saw him passing by we’d slightly give a push or pinch to another and we ‘d both look (pretending not) at him till he disappeared from our sight. Then we’d look at each other and give a sigh with smile. After sometime you could hear our giggly laughter again.

He scared me because he was a real heartthrob and brilliant. When I used to see him I don’t know what used to happen to me that my heart used to beat so fast and loud that I could feel my chest jumping and hear the every beat of my heart clearly. Once I was heading for my class when I suddenly found myself FACE TO FACE with him. My heart stopped. I don’t remember what I did but he stared me which I can say ‘a long stare’ then gave me a loving smile and walked away. I didn’t dare to look back at him. I stood there like a statue; I don’t know for how long. Later I was sitting in my class…still trembling with red-hot face.

I was an ambitious teenage girl. I had my own goal, own destiny and a dream to fulfill. And…and that was the reason why I was scared of him. My feelings for him was beyond friendship…and I was afraid thinking those feelings may mislead me and stop me from what I wanted to be. So, I suppressed my emotions that were for him…just for him. When I ignored them I felt enough pain in my heart. I used to burst in tears as it was so hard to control and the pain was unbearable. I used to cry myself to sleep every night. Anyway, I managed to go on for my ambition ignoring my emotions for him. But my eyes never stopped searching for just a glance of him.

Seven months after I had met him, he left college as he had completed his course. And I…I had to stay one more year to complete my course. –He was one batch senior than me. – Again, I went through the same emotional pain. Only the difference was that this one was more stronger and more painful than previous one.

Now, I’ve achieved my dreams and I am ready for the warm relationship with him and I suddenly realize that he has gone too far for me to reach. I have lost him. But still my eyes are searching for a glance of him in every crowd that passes by me or I pass by and my heart is beating for a warm nearness of him.

I wonder if he ever knew about it…

In closing, I’d like to offer you words from Barbara De Angelis. She wrote, “ You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back.” If only I had told him that I loved him; he could have been standing on my side and I could have got everything I wished for because I would have the greatest boon of world - “His Love”.

Where I Belong!

Under the protecting eyes of Ramajima and Mount Sishne, she blossoms in all seasons of the year. There is a very genuine misconception in urban areas about her; many of urban-born affectionately call her ‘mountain’ though in reality she is just a hill. She doesn’t touch the blue sky above her as Mount Everest does. But, she is the only one in the whole world who can take children on her rainbow to travel through the world of heaven and bring them back to herself.

Far from the world of maddening crowed, of plastic and the worldly eyes of intruders, she hides. Here, people born out of her are the only ones who can feel their blood give rush when they see her from miles away because they are so much alike that they are linked with each other to feel each-others heartbeat. These people are out of her seed and are as enigmatic as she is. Only intruders in this virgin society are poets and the God and Goddess of nature. I can guarantee, Laxmi Prasad Devkota must have been the only intruder in this society in his dreams and must have been inspired by her to write every words of his life. These were extraordinary beings with extraordinary powers that linked them with her.

But, if you decide to go and see her leaving your cozy home in Kathmandu, you will have to drive west through almost forgotten-highway for two days in bus and then walk for three days to find her in front of your eyes. After some days of relaxation upon her lap, you will not be able to impede yourself from putting on your hiking shoes. And then, after 3 hours hike through the small trails passing cheerfully through deep wooded forest with artistic old trees standing tall just asking you to appreciate them for their age while thousands of wild flowers beg you to stop and smell their heavenly scent. With those temptation and discovering mysteries hidden behind those rocks of hers if you still can move forward you step on Ramli. And after missing few breaths; standing on grassy sheep pasture when you look around; there, you will discover yet another stimulating reward in those smiling mountains and unfolding hills that extend to the horizon. At that time, your eyes will see the miracle of her; the startling synchronization of natural colour…the valley with scattered villages by the deep blue river and hills raised from those villages extend from being deep green to haze blue in the horizon behind the folds of higher hills and suddenly turn itself white with snow covered mountains behind them protecting and cherishing them.

After that magical moment, when you have caught your breath and you are relaxed you have to look directly below you to see her. With some scattered thatched roof houses, deep green forests and potato, maize, millet and mustards fields, at first you might find her as ordinary as other hills quietly lying next to her. She will not make you gape or reach for your camera like Everest does. But you will discover she will not allow you to turn your head away from her as well. It is that time when you decide to look her closely enough to find something striking hidden inside her. Then you will discover, there is something very intriguing about her. It is a wonder; to find her become alive in front of your very own eyes.

Through her prairie you will see two different worlds within a circle of clock. During day, laying on your back, under the shade of full grown maple tree you will see the blue sky extending to infinity with only a source of light hanging on it. While during night, laying on the terrace, hands under your head you will find yourself staring at the wonder of another world. The world of night yet so bright and so gay with uncountable numbers of stars twinkling in the same clear sky that held sun on its palm during day time; as if someone had quietly slipped to put glitters during dusk to make your heart give a leap in your life.

You will discover, She is a place… a magical place where Echo is still alive under her loving arms. Here, Achillies and Beowulf live in harmony with fire- breathing dragons. Sita and Ram come here to have their romantic moments once in a while. Here, you can find your wishes made on rocks come alive. She is the one who lets people see God in rocks, shows the footprints of them in hills and water. And yet so secretive with her limestone caves and layers of ancient power hidden under bushes you can never expect what might jump out of it. A roaring tiger may chase you towards your home if you wander too far away or wild boar may show you how to dug the jungle and eat earthworms.

Of all people I should know. I have spent my first 9 years wrapped around her arms. Even after parting with her, I have been spending my days with her in my imagination and dreams. The first thing I ever smelled was her sweet scent on her air that gave me life and encouraged me to open my eyes to see her in her full glory. When I was about 2 minutes old I had cried with full joy by sensing her love for the first time. At 4, holding my brothers hand, I had witnessed secrets deep within her. At 7, I had learned birds’ language and was talking with them sitting comfortably on her rhododendron’s palm. Then after a decade I had gone back to her and she had not changed much; she was still the love of my life.

I really don’t remember when exactly love affair began between us. What I am sure of is that I had realized her love even before I was born, even before I existed. It was just like that…when I had breathed in her for the first time I was totally, deeply and madly in love with her.

Yet I fear. I fear, in the tiny moment of her long life-span, my love seems one sided. If she blinks her eyes during the time when I am with her, she will miss me. She will miss to notice my existence. She will not see I ever existed and loved her till the last breath.

But that realization heightens my love even more because that fear gives me a reason to be by her side in every breath of my life: a reason to live, a reason to love and a reason to die. And even after death takes hold of me I will lay a somber sleep in her lap of intoxicating beauty tasting the ambrosia of her core. Yes, this is my wish: to live my whole life wrapped around her arms, and let my body live forever mixed with her in her garden of Nirvana.

I have come to realize, to understand her you need a little bit of black magic. We all do. A little black magic to belong with her, to understand her mysteries and her secrets behind her smile because her subtle beauty is not like a beauty of Everest: instantaneously impressive but nothing more. This instant impressiveness doesn’t give you enough time to create, to reflect and to live with them. That is why we need a little black magic in our lives to understand her subtle beauty because these mysteries and magic crawl up on us slowly giving us enough time to live, love and appreciate life. Life that is so full of mysteries and secrets revealing itself in right time, with right message and meaning showing each day with a little piece of heaven creating smile on beholder like she does.

This is the reason; She and Life are so much intertwined together. Creating a reason to smile, to live, to love and make you believe that you rightfully belong in her heavenly wings of life’s warmth.

[Note: I was born in Jhumlabang of Morabang VDC, Rukum District of Nepal!]

Born in Wild!

I have always felt that I was born in wild. Wild where I grew up, where I bloomed. I loved the way air smelled there, loved being covered with dry leaves. A wild flower, a wild life!

But, one day in the world of well wishers, one of the well-wishers' saw me and thought I was too beautiful to be in wild. He must have thought who would protect me from rain, sunny days, birds or animals. So with every care of the world, he removed me from my ground. He took special care that none of my roots were damaged. I appreciated it!

He brought me to his world; planted me on his beautiful garden where lots of other flowers made of plastics were blooming. It was safe there. I was totally protected from almost everything. Temperature was just perfect for me, neither too cold nor too hot. Fences were around me so there was no fear of animals stamping me under their feet, no fear of heavy rain nor a flood. Everything was there. Soil under me were made nurtures for me. Never had to worry about water, nor food. Everything was provided in certain periods of time. I was fed!

He used to come to see me from time to time. Always looked at me with admiring eyes. It seemed as if I was the most precious thing in the world. I always enjoyed it. It was flattering! Later on he even brought his lots of friends to show me to them. Everyone looked awestruck by the bluish red color of my petals. They couldn't help themselves from touching me and smelling me. It felt good to have so many people interested on me so much. I smiled at them!

However, I always have a great wish to return to my home. I miss the smell of air, miss the damp sweet smelling soil, miss the sound of dry leaves falling around me, miss the music of rain which was always great to dance in. This world of love and protection is not my world. I love the attention, care given by him but this is not my world. I have always felt I don't belong here. Not that I have not tried to adjust in this world but my colors of petals, my whole being is changing, it is fading away… I am about to be just like others…plastic! So, I long for my wild where I was what I was. I didn't had to turn into something else to make someone happy.

Tomorrow, I am moving out of here!