Pre-written Entry 1

6/3/10

Yesterday afternoon I arrived at my volunteer placement, my home away from home for the next ten weeks. For two months leading up to my departure, I had been a little worried that I would be the only volunteer working for the organization the majority of my time in India. Imagine my delight when I learned that there was another volunteer here, who would be staying for almost the entire time of my stay.

Jon, a 23 year old Canadian, is working on some sort of internship, class or directed study through his university in Alberta. He is studying international development, set to graduate next year. So far we’ve been getting to know each other and getting along pretty well.

The organization is surrounded by a cement wall, with an metal entry gate. There is a dirt path leading up to a very slippery, sand covered ramp, leading to another dirt path, leading up to the main building. The main building is shaped like a U with the offices to the right, and my dormitory to the left. The walls on the front side of the building are covered with blue squares and rectangles showing charts of program statistics, maps of the region, and posters of the organization’s vision and mission statement. Some of these posters and charts are hand written in English, others in Hindi.

I could not have asked for more friendly people to have at a host organization. After I met with the director and the person I would be working with in the main office, I was taken on a tour to meet the rest of the staff and see the other offices. There are about 15 other men who work for the organization, filling various roles from accounting to teaching. At least I think that’s true; it was a little difficult to understand what was being told to me.

After the workday, which ends at 5ish, all the guys sat in the grassy shade and chatted with one another until dusk. Most of what was being said was in Hindi, so I didn’t understand a single word of it. I brought my Hindi phrase book out from my luggage and it was passed around, a few guys taking turns at having a look. One man sitting next to me took the book, opened to a page, turned to me and read, “What is your religion?” Very few conversation topics are off limits in India, and that question seemed to be the perfect transition to even more personal questions - how often do I pray, when will I get married, my stance on arranged marriage vs. love marriage, how many children are appropriate in a family, questions about my family members, et. al.

Dinner was served pretty late, and I was beyond starving my the time food was in front of me. It was simple, and delicious. Like a true Irish girl, I would eat potatoes day and night. Luckily dinner was a curry dish of potatoes and onions, and all you can eat chapatti. We all eat with our hands; and even though I washed my hands and even showered after dinner, my fingers were still stained curry yellow when I woke this morning.

I love this.

Last night’s sleep was fitful due to the extreme heat of the desert, and my fan cutting off every so often. At the hotels I was staying at, I would just sleep with the fan on, in my undies. Even then I would be hot. But my dormitory is on the first floor, and my bed is right in front of a window. I have the feeling that it would be a little inappropriate to be sleeping next to naked. The guys sleep on the roof, in the open air, under the stars. I’m jealous. I would do it too, but again, I think that would be inappropriate.