“When mother died, I had to borrow money from the landlord for the funeral rites which are very elaborate and lasted for many weeks. I had to arrange grains and bring Lamas from four different places. I had to invite the entire village and serve them food, rice, and meat. Almost three hundred people. So much rice would be consumed during the funeral. But we were poor and we didn’t have money, so borrowing was the only option we had. We had to perform these rituals, there was no way out. It was mandatory and I didn’t want to be an outcast. Please understand that I loved my mother and as a son, I did what I had to. But I could not pay back the loan and the landlord took away all my goats. I had lost my mother and I was crying and now my goats were gone too. But time never stopped to look at me and take pity. I worked for other people doing physical labour. I looked after their animals, I took care of their fields. I did everything I had to survive. And one day I felt lonely in life and I got married. My wife helped me with the work but when we had children there were more mouths to feed and there was no money. By then the mules had started coming and with them came food from outside and also the opportunity to do something. Villages started turning into towns and people started needing more things, wanting more things, and spending more. My wife and I managed to save enough and when we saw how the shopkeepers and the tea houses were making money we started doing the same. I bought some land here and I opened this little shop. We have food, that is true, but because we need things today that we didn’t need before, the situation is still difficult. And money has no weight, it cannot buy what it could. So every time there is something in the house, someone is born or someone dies, someone falls sick or someone wants to get married, I have to go ask for a loan. And they will not accept goats this time.”