Wonderful Beautiful Nepal | Nepal Travel, Culture & Food

Who will protect the little girls of Africa? Shortly after Christmas, I became a father – or rather, I nearly became one. I do not know how to put it exactly. I did not know I was old enough to be a teenage girl’s father. She must be sixteen, or maybe fourteen. I could not really tell. I had never met her before.  I spent Christmas holed up in my little office, behind the laptop, sometimes putting finishing touches on my first feature film, The Felistas Fable , other times rewriting my first romance novella, which will hopefully come out later this year. I was feeling bad about myself that I had made a feature film before publishing a book, and that the first book I’d ever publish is a romance. Or rather the publisher thinks it’s a romance and I was not seeing it like that at all. Anyway, being holed up with two big works on the desk meant I had not shaved for a long time. Maybe I thought was Father Christmas and so had to grow a really long and unkempt beard, and maybe that beard ...

I met a Belgian in Nairobi early in the year, at a filmmaker’s workshop. When he went back to his country, he found a teaching job because, well, filmmaking isn’t as lucrative as our dreams would wish it to be. And since he had been to Africa, he started this project in his school, to teach these children about Africa and African cultures. They are I think in the age group of 10-12. So he asked these sweet angels to send questions to the African friends he met, and below are some of the questions. Some of them made me go ‘wtf!’ and others just made me fall off the floor laughing. (I wonder what the questions would be like if I picked a bunch of African school children and had them ask questions about Europe!)   So here are the innocent questions. My name is Eira and I’m contacting you as a part of our school project on African cultures. I am going to be a giraffe attacking a person in our performance, so does African giraffes attack people?   I could not help laughing. The poo...

“I love the sound of rain.” So goes the first line in the lyrics of a song Reiza is writing. “I forgot the sound of rain,” is my response to it. There’s something about rain and romance. Rain and poetry. Rain and love. And as I sit here with the darkness growing around the room – I’m too lazy to turn on the lights! – I hear the rain falling outside. I see the droplets sliding on the window pane like lazy dancers and it stirs memories of rain. Hmmm, that sounds like a cute title for a story. Memories of Rain. A watery view of the world. Camera art, pure and simple.  The first time I experienced rain falling for five days non-stop was in Nepal, the beautiful country, tourist based country, , the beautiful country, tourist based country, . And they thought it was very good weather. Mostly because it cooled down the heat. But the people in places like Surkhet live in fear of rain, for mudslides happen every monsoon, and those in the plains live in fear of floods. But unlike in Uganda w...