Chillies and Dragons: Annual Rimdro

Rimdro (pronounced rim-do) is an umbrella term that encompasses rituals and ceremonies for a variety of purposes. The word itself means service in Dzongkha and it is part and parcel of Bhutanese life. Some rimdros are for prosperity, others long life, but the most common I’ve encountered is for purification. Last week we celebrated our school rimdro, but first a little introduction...

Prior to the school-based iteration I observed two different rimdros. Back in May the teachers at my school were asked to attend a house rimdro during lunchtime. The tenants had recently moved in and thus needed to cleanse their four walls. Outside were offerings of food (for the gods, not us) and hand-made statues made of butter. As we walked toward the house, I could easily hear the jarring sounds of Buddhist horns and drums. I often heard these sounds while walking the streets over the last several months and only then did it hit me that people were not listening to this for pleasure alone—these recordings held significance in home rituals meant to drive away negative energy and spirits. Once inside we were offered food. We sat and ate and that was it. Afterward we said our farewells, but as I came to learn it is common courtesy to extend an invitation to others so that they, no matter how small a role, can take part in the ceremony.

A month later amidst an intense lightning storm I remember being alarmed at the smell of smoke. I left my office to find the source, thinking something had been struck—a notion I likely developed because not a week earlier a pole on the campus was hit, destroying a few computers and electrical equipment with it. Fortunately for all, the billowing white smoke was not due to lightening, but rather another house rimdro. Smoke, I would learn, plays an important role in the process.

My school celebrated its annual rimdro last week on the 13^th of August. All schools across the country celebrate annual rimdro, though the dates vary and I believe our school was one of the last. How they came to choose that date, I don’t know, but I can only assume it involved consultation with a lama. Dates for important events are often decided after taking astrological forces into consideration.

The days prior to the ritual were busy. We had meetings after school and delegated roles for all the teachers. Unfortunately for me the meetings were 97% Dzongkha so I sat there staring at nothing in particular without the slightest clue as to why we were convening in the first place. Eventually someone explained what they were up to and asked what responsibility I would like to take up. I, knowing little relevant to the occasion, didn’t have much to offer so eventually we decided my services would be best utilized as a photographer for the day. Not a problem for me. That meant I could wander at will and see all the moving parts throughout the day.

We were also asked to contribute a fee to help pay for the food and set-up costs. The whole affair must cost well over $1000 judging by the divvied up contributions required from teachers and students, which is a lot when factoring in Bhutanese cost of living (the total being equivalent to 2 and a half months of a teacher's salary). Not wanting to receive special treatment I paid my dues like everyone else. Any visitors would also be asked to provide a donation upon arrival.

Once all the roles had been assigned the students were given their responsibilities. That Wednesday we ended class early so students and teachers could go about their chores. Students moved chairs and tables, sweeping certain areas, and doing any additional favor asked by their teachers. The teachers meanwhile procured food and materials. I took this time to charge my GoPro and soak in the quiet before the storm.

The next morning I awoke and got ready at a leisurely pace. The principal had told me since I wasn’t required for morning set-up—starting at around 7am—that I needn’t show up until 9. Taking my camera equipment with me, I headed down. The campus was intensely quiet, eerily so due to the low barometric pressure in addition to the absence of children’s playful laughter. I didn’t spy a soul until I set down my umbrella and started walking toward the multi-purpose hall (MPH).

Just as I started down the ramp a number of teachers were walking up, getting in the formation typical of receiving guests. They wore their gho and kira as well as their religious/official accompaniment of kabney and rachu. Kabneys are off-white lengthy scarves meant to indicate a layperson’s status and wrapped around one shoulder, hanging well below the hip on the right-hand side. A rachu, conversely, is the female equivalent, though red and colorfully embroidered. It is thicker and shorter and draped over one shoulder, hanging straight down though occasionally swathed around the neck.They told me they were awaiting the lama. I snapped a few pictures and loitered with them for a while. I decided to walk up the road to the school entrance to capture the drapery of downward flags lining the sidewalk, their colors the same as prayer flags: white, yellow, red, green, and blue. On my way back down I was ushered to the MPH, the teachers insisting I eat breakfast.

For those who haven’t stepped out of English speaking countries, breakfast for most of the world is no different than any other meal. They eat the same things they might for lunch or dinner. I remember being so surprised to hear that my students in Korea ate kimchi, rice, and hot, savory soups for breakfast. Of course western-designated breakfast foods (eggs, cereal, and porridge) have caught on in many countries, but here in Bhutan people are far more likely to eat fried rice than sugar-coated corn flakes. But I digress. The breakfast I was being served is a personal favorite of mine: ezze and rice. Ezze is a kind of fresh salsa composed of diced chilies, cilantro, tomato, onions, and crumbly local cheese. It is not for the weak-tongued, but its punch is complimented nicely by its freshness. Usually people will take this meal with suja, or butter tea, but I am not a big suja fan and opted for the sweet milky tea instead.

Afterward I perused the perimeter of the MPH and found students washing dishes. I reckon in my home country if teenage boys and girls were asked to do this in front of their peers it would be an embarrassing affair, but these adolescents were going about their business without a hint of annoyance, chatting to pass the time. Next to them was an old cast-iron contraption. I hadn’t the slightest clue what its purpose could be until I inquired and was told it cooks rice in mass amounts. Behind the student dish washers was an area where open flames cooked obscenely massive pots, the contents of which would remain a mystery until later meals.

Further back on a steep slope were a couple students climbing trees and cutting off pine branches. They took their findings with them around the back of the building where others were piling the branches on top of a fire, subsequently creating the white smoke I had seen months earlier at the house rimdro. As I mentioned before smoke plays an important role in purification the same way sage and incense are used in different parts of the world. The smell is comforting from afar, reminiscent of a camp bonfire, though it at times was too overwhelming for me throughout the day and I had to retreat for a breath of fresh air.

I had delayed investigating the inside of the MPH for as long as I could. I walked in the main entrance and up one of the stairwells to the top floor. There were hundreds of students sitting up in the rafters with small carpets and scrolls with prayers inscribed on them. The main altar in the back of the top floor had a huge display of bread, noodles, and other junk food piled high as offering. In one corner students methodically tore open noodle and cookie packets, pouring them on top of a mound. Later in the day the monks would bless the food and it would be distributed back to the students the next day. Perhaps this is the one time that the school will condone eating junk food, seeing as it is blessed.

I stood over the railing to see the main floor. It was a sight to see. The walls were covered from end to end in religious patterns and scrolls borrowed from the dzong’s monastery. On the stage were the monks with their instruments and prayer books saying their mantras, the sounds of which carried far and wide via loudspeakers. In the center sat the lama on a decorated platform, also chanting. On the opposite end of the hall were two statues, one of a man and the other of a women dressed in traditional Bhutanese garb. Surrounding them was an elaborate veil of textile going high above their heads, equally colorful as everything else in the room. And behind them were hundreds of butter lamps, about half of which were lit at that point.

The middle of the MPH was occupied by class 7 and 8 students lined in rows on display for all. They too were reciting mantras though less enthusiastically. Interestingly enough when I had asked students the days prior if they were excited about rimdro, I received mixed responses. Some loved the deviation from the typical school day and genuinely liked the activities while others thought the 8 hours of chanting and sitting around to be a boring prospect. Nevertheless no one seemed in poor spirits while I was there. Most maintained a kind of balance between mantras and goofing off. There were even a few engaging in the latest craze to hit the school: Rubik's cubes.

I found a seat and took in the sights and sounds of the experience. The cacophony of the instruments contrasted by the subdued, trance-like sounds of chanting was oddly soothing. After an hour or so I needed reprieve from the smoke wafting through the open doors and windows. I took this opportunity to check up on the younger classes who were performing similar mantras in the library and science lab.

Again I returned to the MPH and sat quietly until it was time for lunch. Guests from the nearby high schools came to visit, joining us as we dined on the available rice and curries. The afternoon continued in like manner, receiving various guests from nearby schools and the community. Every hour or so tea and biscuits would be served.

By 5 o’clock I was told the main event would take place. Fortunately my six and half months in Bhutan had built up my patience to endure an all-day affair of this nature. Ever so slowly students began to pile into the hall once more. Everyone was given holy water, which you take a sip of before throwing it over your hair and head. Next various grains were distributed. I had been through a similar experience once before so I knew just what to expect; I’m not sure exactly what the significance of the grain is, but when the moment is right the participant must throw some of it at the statues thinking only base, negative thoughts. The concept behind this action is that by channeling negative energy toward the dummies all evil goes with it. These figures would then be removed and with it, all that bad juju.

Whilst waiting for the ceremony to begin students playfully threw grain at each other, making a great mess of the hall. I normally would frown on such behavior, but the teachers weren’t bothered and ultimately it wasn’t causing any harm, so I went with the flow. Finally the horns began to burst with shrill tones and a few people started to move the statues. All pandemonium ensued. Corn kernels, rice, and other grains came hailing from the upper level and hurled from the bottom floor. The act was violent and relentless. The funny thing was the students had acted prematurely and didn’t throw at the right time, but at this point it was too late to stop. The man-made storm continued for a good five minutes until the statues were dragged out, those poor volunteers being pelted all the while. From there the statues were loaded up onto a truck and taken to an undisclosed location.

After it all settled down the students were allowed to go home. Meanwhile volunteers swept the floor and others prepared dinner. I stuck around longer, my patience starting to wane slightly, and passed the time by speaking with the principal. Finally around 6:30 dinner was served. I ate, said my goodbyes, and went home even though the event would carry on with beer and snacks for another couple of hours. It was an experience unlike anything other I’ve experienced before and I will take with it unique memories that will last a lifetime. I hope sometime soon to make a short video of it and if I do, I will be sure to link it to my blog.