Souvenirs For My Sister
A letter for her birthday, with stories on how I found each gift for her.
Dear Sakina,
Happy 25th Birthday! Even though I’ve been gone the past 7 months, I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I’m so grateful I get to celebrate your golden day with you in person today.
Throughout my travels in Nepal, I had the sweetest interactions with locals who were selling unique items. And when I would think about who I’d like to give each souvenir to, you were the very first person I thought about.
I’m holding the gifts in my hand right now. I’d like to share the stories that led me to get these things for you.
I hope you enjoy the stories behind these gifts as much as I enjoyed searching for each of them.
Love you so much,
Zahabiya Apa
Silver Jhumka Earrings
My friend and I were sitting outside a cafe in Pokhara, overlooking the lake as we sipped our masala chai.
A boy that must have been only 11 or 12 approached us. He was carrying a large selection of jewelry.
“Would you like to buy something?”
We shake our heads no instinctively, and return to our conversation.
“Please, are you sure you don’t want to take a look?”
I tell him I’m really sorry, but we are okay for now.
“Where are you from?”
I try to insist that we really don’t want to buy anything right now.
“No, seriously, just tell me where you’re from.”
I say California, and with wide eyes, he points to the t-shirt he’s currently wearing.
In bright bold letters, California is displayed on the front.
I laugh at the coincidence.
“Okay, I have to buy something now. Let’s see what you have.”
I gaze at the selection. I spot a pair of silver jumkhas (traditional South Asian earrings).
I love wearing jumkhas, as they remind me of warm nights in Pakistan, my mother, and all the Bollywood movies I grew up seeing. It’s a piece of home no matter how far I am.
“I’ll take this. It’s for my sister.”
He smiles and hands it over to me.
Handmade Coin Purse
I was walking around the streets of Pokhara, carefully balancing my journal, book, pens, wallet, and phone in my hands. I knew I needed to get a bigger bag so I wouldn’t misplace anything as I travel.
I see a crocheted handbag in the window of a store, so I decide to walk in. There are so many beautiful selections, and I find a brown one that matches my style.
“Do you think this looks good with my outfit?”
“Yes. You should get it.”
She could’ve been lying just to make the sale but that’s okay. I love making conversation with strangers.
As I’m handing her the cash, I notice a brochure on the table:
Women’s Skills Development Organization (WSDO) is a non-profit Fair Trade organization that has been working since 1975 to empower socially and economically disadvantaged women of rural Nepal.
We make a wide range of handwoven and handmade products, including handbags, cases, purses, toys, footwear and household accessories.
I’m immediately intrigued. I ask her more about this initiative—how many stores there are, what inspired them to start, and what their future plans were.
She suggested that since I was so interested, I should go visit the factory and take a tour.
I nodded my head, and called the number on the brochure right then and there.
A few days later, I walked an hour to get to the factory (I can’t resist a good walk in a new country to immerse myself in what’s around me—it’s an activity in itself).
The first person I meet when I walk in is the Founder and CEO, Ramkali Khadka.
She’s warm and bubbly, and curious about my journey. She laughs at my broken Nepali, touched that I’m even trying.
She shares more about her commitment to helping women with difficult hardships find confidence and strength through new skills from her trainings (which have positively impacted 12,000 women already).
One of the marketing folks takes me on a tour, and I get to see firsthand how creative and hardworking these women are. She walks me through the process from start to finish on how they craft these unique handbags, backpacks, and wallets.
I get a warm “Namaste!” in each room I enter in. They even make me a cup of masala chai at the end.
Before I leave, they show me some of the products the women had made. My eye immediately catches on a blue coin purse.
I know how much my sister loves jewelry, and this could be a good spot to keep everything safe. Or maybe even some of her lip glosses.
I hand over the cash and express my gratitude for their time.
I walk out with the coin purse tucked safely in my bag, feeling inspired and excited to share what I’ve learned with my sister.
Embroidered Hair Clip
I’m in a bookstore in Kathmandu. I’m handing out flyers in attempt to get more help at the children’s home I’ve been volunteering at for the past few weeks.
The last few restaurants and cafes I went into left a bad taste in my mouth. They were really dismissive, and hid the flyer in a drawer when I handed it to them.
I was trying really hard to raise awareness and get more help for the sweet children, but it seemed like an uphill battle.
I finally walk into Pilgrims Book House. I love coming here, gazing in awe at all the unique journals, stacks of books, and colorful postcards.
“Hey there! First off, I’d like to say that I love your bookstore—it’s been such a great spot to come during my time here.”
“I know, I’ve seen you here before.”
“Oh.” —it takes me a second to recover before I get back to my script (I didn’t think he would have remembered me).
“So, I’m here today because I’ve been volunteering at a children’s home nearby and they are currently in need of more help. I was curious if you could hang this flyer up?”
“Of course. I’ll take a few—we can put it on the second floor of the store as well. I have some friends who would be interested in helping out.”
My eyes widen in shock and I try not to smile too big.
“Oh wow… thank you so much for your kindness! The last few restaurants I went to were really short with me so this is… refreshing to say the least.”
“Well, that’s the problem. They just want to sell food, they don’t want to actually help people. You have to go to bookstores—that’s where you’ll find your people.”
My heart is warm and fuzzy. Before I leave, some hair clips in the corner catch my attention.
I hold the handmade, carefully embroidered hair clips in my hands. They are the same ones my sister had noticed in Vietnam a few months ago, but I made fun of her because I thought they looked ugly.
They were actually really cute, and I don’t know why I had made fun of her before. Suddenly, I couldn’t walk out without buying a pair for her.
“I’ll take one of these. I know someone back home who will laugh when she sees this.”
Charm Bracelet
My friend and I are sitting in yet another cafe, but this time, in the bustling city of Kathmandu.
We find a cozy corner at Samaya Rooftop Garden, with gorgeous glass windows that give us the best view of the heavy monsoon rain.
I’m sipping my cappuccino as I see a group of high schoolers settle into the table next to us. They start spreading out bags and bags of charms and bracelet making supplies.
I can’t help my curiosity.
“Hey, what are you all doing there?”
They look up, bright eyed, and excitedly explain that they had just graduated and are launching their first business, Arben, to sell Italian charm bracelets in Nepal.
I’m immediately transported to 13 years ago, when I sold handmade bows and jewelry with my high school friends on Etsy. It was messy, chaotic, and so much fun.
“Can I take a look?”
They show me each of the charms. I want to support them, so I tell them I’d like to make one for my sister. I know she likes blue and silver, so they help me pick out ones that match a general vibe.
As I hand them the cash, I see my younger self in them. How excited I was to try new things, without any fear of failure.
I tell them how excited I am for this new chapter for them, and that I wish them the best with everything.
Friendship Bracelet
It’s my last day at the children’s home I’ve been volunteering at for the past few weeks, Our Child Protection Foundation Nepal.
I’ve gotten so close to the 60 kids that live here—teaching them yoga, painting together, playing silly games, making TikTok dances, going on picnics, and wiping their tears when they get hurt.
I’m trying to hold back my own tears now, as I say my final goodbye (for now). The founder, Binita Didi, carefully puts a scarf around my neck for good luck. She then announces the kids have some gifts for me.
She hands me a tiny box. Inside, there are gifts for each of my family members—my mom, dad, and sister.
I take out the one for my sister. It’s a handmade friendship bracelet with black and white string.
“It’s a tiny token to say thank you for their support from thousand of miles away. I know how much they’ve been brainstorming ideas to help us, and how much they’ve already given for the school uniforms. Please send our love to them.”
I give Binita Didi the tightest hug. I then go to the girl who made the bracelet and express how grateful I am for her. How talented she is, and how thoughtful this gift is.
My sister has been curious about this children’s home from the very first day I started volunteering here. She’s always had a soft spot for children, and has inspired me to always lead with kindness to strangers.
Without her, I wouldn’t have had the inspiration to do half of the initiatives I worked on for the children.
I carefully place the friendship bracelet in my bag, touched by their thoughtfulness to remember my sister.
Postcard
I’m about to catch my flight home, but before I leave, I make one last stop at Pilgrims Book House.
I gaze at the array of colorful postcards, and a watercolor image of Manaslu, the mountain I trekked around for 10 days, stands out.
I take the postcard and shelter it from the rain as I make my way to my favorite coffee shop, Samaya Rooftop Garden.
I’m back in “my” corner—a wooden table near the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, with an impressive array of plants.
I sip my cappuccino and pull out a pen to start writing a letter to my sister.
Images of trekking the Manaslu Circuit a few weeks ago flash by—witnessing breathtaking views, sleeping in the coziest tea houses, meeting people from all walks of life, and challenging my body with high altitudes and steep terrain.
And then, images of backpacking in Canada a few years ago with my sister flash by—tossing all our belongings in a canoe, pitching a tent in the remote forest, swimming in an ice cold waterfall, and drinking hot chocolate while stargazing.
I promise her that the next mountain I trek, it will be with her by my side. That we’ll go on our next adventure together—laughing with strangers, sipping coffee, gushing at the landscapes, and sharing each and every thought that crosses our mind.
I place the postcard in my bag and finish my coffee. I take one last good look out the window, to the city I’ve grown to love.
I call my last motorbike to leave, and I feel a rush of excitement.
I finally get to see my sister.
💖💖