'I would like to invite you to have coffee at my home tonight', she said.
English class had just finished and she stayed after to speak with me. She had a nose ring, brown eyes so warm they could have been maroon, and an affectionate way of grabbing my hand. Since I started at Purnaa, she had been helping me with my terrible Nepali pronunciation and I had been teaching her English class. That day we learned how to say our favorite foods in class and when I joked that mine was coffee, she laughed and invited me to her home. Yes, yes, yes, of course I'll come to your home.
It was raining when we left work, her holding an umbrella over both of us as she offered bits of English along the way.
When we got to her front door, she looked at me sheepishly, 'its just the one room' and we walked in. The room was small and cozy, with lights strung along the pink walls, photos of family members everywhere, and two beds side by side that created a narrow path for me to walk down.
I sat across from her 17-year old-daughter as the coffee was brewing and I learned that she was going to university to be a doctor. This is huge anywhere, but it's especially incredible in Nepal. They served me coffee on a tray with sliced apples as they helped me learn more Nepali phrases. Se-yow, apple. Choree, daughter. Amah, mother. Ramro, good.
When her husband came home, they drove me home together, asking along the way if I liked ‘buff’ (buffalo meat). I responded yes, so her husband pulled over and got out of the car. I kept talking with her, silently wondering what was happening until he got back in the car with a coffee filter filled with grilled buffalo meat and rice from his friend’s food stand. Buff for you!
And so I fought my tears, as I accepted yet another gift from these people who knew more about sharing what they had than I ever have.