Next week Tuesday is John’s last day at Gram Chetna. For a while I was a little bummed because I would be the only intern for the following week and a half. At one point we were going to have an intern from France, but it seemed like she was bailing because she wouldn’t return any of the emails John sent her. Prashand has been gone for the last few days and we haven’t been able to reach him. He’s in Uttar Pradesh visiting his wife and he shut his phone off for the week.
John had the bright idea this morning to check the Gram Chetna email account to make sure the French intern really wasn’t coming. She wasn’t responding to his emails from his personal account, but she originally emailed the main Gram Chetna address. When he signed in he saw that she and Prashand have been corresponding with one another for the last week, and Prashand didn’t tell anyone. She is coming, tomorrow in fact.
I’m overjoyed, but what the hell?! I had just gotten comfortable with the idea that I would be alone for my last week here. Prashand knew she was coming, gave her his cell phone number as the Gram Chetna contact number, then left for a week and shut his phone off. What was he thinking, if he was thinking at all?
Not much has been happening this week. I gave Prashand a list of information I need to finish my projects and then he left without giving me anything. Oh, and the generator was down, so we had no power for half the day. And then today we’re in day three of eight hour staff meetings. Luckily Prashand left his wireless internet data card, so most of my days have been spent screwing around online. I pretty much have next summer’s traveling planned out. How does Central America sound?
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
For Real!
I told you all that I would write some of my observations on the caste system, but it’s proving to be very difficult. First of all, I don’t even know enough about the caste system to know what I don’t know. Second, writing about the caste system in India makes me feel like I’m somehow ignoring the fact that discrimination is very much alive and well in my home country and community. As a white, middle class young woman born to educated parents, I have personally benefited from the racial discrimination found in the USA. Although I worked hard to get to India, many of the reasons I was able to come were a result of unearned privileges I have been granted because of my social class and ethnicity. I don’t want my observations to come across as if discrimination is foreign to me.
That being acknowledged, I still don’t feel all that comfortable writing about caste. I can, however, do what I usually do and tell you all a story.
The Gram Chetna staff is primarily made up of Brahmins. The founding team were all Brahmin, Big Boss is Brahmin, and both his son (Amit) and brother (Vishnu) work here and are obviously also Brahmin. Brahmins are at the top of the caste system and the Scheduled Castes and Tribes are at the bottom. “Scheduled” means that they are given certain affirmative action style rights in the constitution. It’s also a nicer name for what they were once referred to - Untouchables.
Gram Chetna’s has a huge presence in the surrounding communities. The name can be roughly translated to Village Awareness Center and it provides education on health, safe water and sanitation, child development, nutrition, family planning among many other things. The center also arranges for dairy cooperatives among the farmers, and provides support to women’s microfinance schemes. The work done here is generally done with and for the uneducated, rural poor. Rajiv once said that as a social worker, there is very little room for caste discrimination in his line of work.
Now, there is a young man, Mahendra, who comes to Gram Chetna every morning, seven days a week, to sweep the dust, clean the bathrooms and take out the trash. He arrives before we wake up and takes a short break when morning chai is served. While we all sit around on lawn chairs drinking out of ceramic tea cups, he is served his chai in a plastic cup and sits about ten yards away, on some concrete steps. From the very beginning I thought these behaviors were caste related, but I never said anything about it.
Two weeks ago we went to a marriage party where caste was directly brought up by Amit and Rajiv. To make a long story short, two girls sat with our Gram Chetna group for dinner. I didn’t pick up on any of this at the time, but it was discussed later on the way home. One of the two girls wasn’t going to eat with us because her friend (!!!!!) was of a lower caste, and she wouldn’t eat with her. Amit, who is Brahmin, didn’t care about anyone’s caste and told the one girl to eat. So she did, but Amit and Rajiv laughed about it in the car on the way home.
The above story gave me the impression that caste was largely ignored by the people at Gram Chetna. But the chai served to him in a plastic cup was really throwing me off. Finally I brought it up to John and he said something about age being a possible factor. He read somewhere that if a young man is younger than 18, he is still often treated as a child. But that didn’t seem right to me. John then asked Prashand and he confirmed my beliefs, that it was indeed caste related. And unfortunately, he also told us some more upsetting information about caste discrimination at Gram Chetna.
Not only does Mahendra have to drink his tea from a plastic cup away from the group every morning, he must also keep his dishes separate from everyone else’s, he is also not allowed in the kitchen, and he is not allowed to drink from the electrocuting water cooler. When he sweeps in the mornings he is not allowed to step foot in Big Boss’s office, Amit’s office, or Vishnu’s dormitory. If he goes in, the rooms are considered contaminated because he is a member of the Scheduled Caste.
Prashand added that although the caste system is reinforced through Hindu beliefs, Rajasthan was the birthplace of discrimination based on caste. He is from a Uttar Pradesh and said that things weren’t like this back at his home. I have no way of knowing how accurate that is. It may be like saying Chicago is less racist than Detroit. It might just be that the discrimination in Rajasthan is more overt than other places in India. Who knows.
That’s that on caste.
In other news, I had to break out the mosquito net. Before coming I read countless blogs about how useless mosquito nets are in India. I read that there is never any place to hang it from, it creates a cocoon of heat around you, and there aren’t really any bugs to worry about. After all, it was pretty useless while I was in Kenya. For a minute I thought about leaving it at home, especially because I was packing so light. But in the end I decided to bring it anyway. And thank the lord I did! The bugs just seem to get worse and worse by the minute. Yesterday after dinner I went to wash my dishes and found the outdoor kitchen sink was fill of squirming fly larvae. I definitely gagged at that one…
And I’ve decided to tell you all one more short story. It has to do with the sweeper, Mahendra. Yesterday morning I decided to forgo my bike ride and spend the morning getting rid of the bugs in my room. Crickets and ¾ inch long ants had taken over the place. So I decided to take my luggage from under my bed, the two boxes of empty mineral water bottles from the corner, and my floor rug and place it all on a shelf. The ants and crickets hide under and behind those things, so I got rid of it all.
When Mahendra saw me pulling everything out of my room he asked if I wanted him to clean. Being fully capable of cleaning my own bedroom, I smiled and said, “no thanks”. Now there is a chance that he took that as me asking him not to enter my room, like Vishnu. This morning on my bike ride, I was really looking forward to coming back to a swept room. I know, I know… But if he is going to sweep (which he usually does), I prefer it to happen when I’m gone. I get embarrassed when he comes in to sweep when I’m relaxing on my bed, reading. I feel like I should get up and help him.
But when I got back from my bike ride my room was still a mess. There was dust everywhere, dead bugs were all over the floor. It definitely had not been swept yet. Mahendra had moved onto the other section of the building, so I knew he was done with my room. I know I am fully capable of sweeping out my own room, and that’s exactly what I ended up doing. I just can’t help thinking something else happened, maybe some sort of a miscommunication.
As I see it, I’m stuck either ignoring the possible miscommunication, or deliberately asking him to sweep my room in the morning. Both options make me uncomfortable. While I have no problem sweeping my own room, I don’t want my actions to be misconstrued as caste related. Certainly asking him to sweep my room would clarify that I don’t care about caste, but my Western (or maybe American) values makes me uncomfortable with asking someone to clean up my mess.
I guess my third option would be to tell him it is nothing caste related, but I can sweep my own room. But I’m sure no one would understand why I was making such a distinction. Why is this so damn complicated?!
That being acknowledged, I still don’t feel all that comfortable writing about caste. I can, however, do what I usually do and tell you all a story.
The Gram Chetna staff is primarily made up of Brahmins. The founding team were all Brahmin, Big Boss is Brahmin, and both his son (Amit) and brother (Vishnu) work here and are obviously also Brahmin. Brahmins are at the top of the caste system and the Scheduled Castes and Tribes are at the bottom. “Scheduled” means that they are given certain affirmative action style rights in the constitution. It’s also a nicer name for what they were once referred to - Untouchables.
Gram Chetna’s has a huge presence in the surrounding communities. The name can be roughly translated to Village Awareness Center and it provides education on health, safe water and sanitation, child development, nutrition, family planning among many other things. The center also arranges for dairy cooperatives among the farmers, and provides support to women’s microfinance schemes. The work done here is generally done with and for the uneducated, rural poor. Rajiv once said that as a social worker, there is very little room for caste discrimination in his line of work.
Now, there is a young man, Mahendra, who comes to Gram Chetna every morning, seven days a week, to sweep the dust, clean the bathrooms and take out the trash. He arrives before we wake up and takes a short break when morning chai is served. While we all sit around on lawn chairs drinking out of ceramic tea cups, he is served his chai in a plastic cup and sits about ten yards away, on some concrete steps. From the very beginning I thought these behaviors were caste related, but I never said anything about it.
Two weeks ago we went to a marriage party where caste was directly brought up by Amit and Rajiv. To make a long story short, two girls sat with our Gram Chetna group for dinner. I didn’t pick up on any of this at the time, but it was discussed later on the way home. One of the two girls wasn’t going to eat with us because her friend (!!!!!) was of a lower caste, and she wouldn’t eat with her. Amit, who is Brahmin, didn’t care about anyone’s caste and told the one girl to eat. So she did, but Amit and Rajiv laughed about it in the car on the way home.
The above story gave me the impression that caste was largely ignored by the people at Gram Chetna. But the chai served to him in a plastic cup was really throwing me off. Finally I brought it up to John and he said something about age being a possible factor. He read somewhere that if a young man is younger than 18, he is still often treated as a child. But that didn’t seem right to me. John then asked Prashand and he confirmed my beliefs, that it was indeed caste related. And unfortunately, he also told us some more upsetting information about caste discrimination at Gram Chetna.
Not only does Mahendra have to drink his tea from a plastic cup away from the group every morning, he must also keep his dishes separate from everyone else’s, he is also not allowed in the kitchen, and he is not allowed to drink from the electrocuting water cooler. When he sweeps in the mornings he is not allowed to step foot in Big Boss’s office, Amit’s office, or Vishnu’s dormitory. If he goes in, the rooms are considered contaminated because he is a member of the Scheduled Caste.
Prashand added that although the caste system is reinforced through Hindu beliefs, Rajasthan was the birthplace of discrimination based on caste. He is from a Uttar Pradesh and said that things weren’t like this back at his home. I have no way of knowing how accurate that is. It may be like saying Chicago is less racist than Detroit. It might just be that the discrimination in Rajasthan is more overt than other places in India. Who knows.
That’s that on caste.
In other news, I had to break out the mosquito net. Before coming I read countless blogs about how useless mosquito nets are in India. I read that there is never any place to hang it from, it creates a cocoon of heat around you, and there aren’t really any bugs to worry about. After all, it was pretty useless while I was in Kenya. For a minute I thought about leaving it at home, especially because I was packing so light. But in the end I decided to bring it anyway. And thank the lord I did! The bugs just seem to get worse and worse by the minute. Yesterday after dinner I went to wash my dishes and found the outdoor kitchen sink was fill of squirming fly larvae. I definitely gagged at that one…
And I’ve decided to tell you all one more short story. It has to do with the sweeper, Mahendra. Yesterday morning I decided to forgo my bike ride and spend the morning getting rid of the bugs in my room. Crickets and ¾ inch long ants had taken over the place. So I decided to take my luggage from under my bed, the two boxes of empty mineral water bottles from the corner, and my floor rug and place it all on a shelf. The ants and crickets hide under and behind those things, so I got rid of it all.
When Mahendra saw me pulling everything out of my room he asked if I wanted him to clean. Being fully capable of cleaning my own bedroom, I smiled and said, “no thanks”. Now there is a chance that he took that as me asking him not to enter my room, like Vishnu. This morning on my bike ride, I was really looking forward to coming back to a swept room. I know, I know… But if he is going to sweep (which he usually does), I prefer it to happen when I’m gone. I get embarrassed when he comes in to sweep when I’m relaxing on my bed, reading. I feel like I should get up and help him.
But when I got back from my bike ride my room was still a mess. There was dust everywhere, dead bugs were all over the floor. It definitely had not been swept yet. Mahendra had moved onto the other section of the building, so I knew he was done with my room. I know I am fully capable of sweeping out my own room, and that’s exactly what I ended up doing. I just can’t help thinking something else happened, maybe some sort of a miscommunication.
As I see it, I’m stuck either ignoring the possible miscommunication, or deliberately asking him to sweep my room in the morning. Both options make me uncomfortable. While I have no problem sweeping my own room, I don’t want my actions to be misconstrued as caste related. Certainly asking him to sweep my room would clarify that I don’t care about caste, but my Western (or maybe American) values makes me uncomfortable with asking someone to clean up my mess.
I guess my third option would be to tell him it is nothing caste related, but I can sweep my own room. But I’m sure no one would understand why I was making such a distinction. Why is this so damn complicated?!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Food!
It dawned on me the other day that there are two entries I need to write. I’ve been getting some emails asking what the food is like, so I thought I’d give you an entry based on food. I was also moved last night to write a entry about the caste system. I’m by no means an expert, as I’m sure you all will see. And I don’t plan on offering any patronizing statements espousing my strong Amerrrrrkan values. I’m just going to tell you some things that I’ve seen.
But first I want to tell you a story.
The rains have started as predicted and brought around a fair, cool temperature. I’m not talking 65 F degrees; I mean more like 85 F and humid. Regardless, it’s a nice break from the weather in the last few weeks. Since the rain has come and the temperature has dropped, we have seen an increase in bugs. Last night was an event of biblical proportions and I really wanted to take pictures or video, but my camera was locked in the office. Imagine heavy clouds of swarms by every illuminated light bulb and every wall coated with flies. Yuck! Add to this the fact the generator was out and the water pump couldn‘t be turned on. Normally this would not have been a problem. The drinking water cooler was working (I don‘t know how), I didn’t need to shower, and I can usually make do without electricity.
But this morning I needed to shower, like most mornings. There are several water tanks on the roof of the buildings, so water was accessible. I filled a bucket with an awkward blue hose coming down off the roof and brought it over to the bathing rooms. The Gram Chetna driver, Ramu, saw me lugging the water bucket and let out a surprised sounding “Oh!”, as if he was surprised to see me doing any physical labor. I think the general consensus among the men is that I’m a princess (by rural Rajasthan standards). While I think I’m a pretty good sport, roughing it with the squat toilets and the bucket showers, hand washing my clothing and eating on the floor; they only see my red brick pedicures, my use of a fan at night, and my avoidance of cooking detail. They think I’m soft, but I don’t! I just like my feet looking nice, I get hot at night, and I don’t like my hands smelling like onions all the time.
Anyway. I took the bucket into the bathrooms where there are two showers to choose from. I prefer one over the other because it has a wire rack and hook to hang my clothes on while the other shower just has one broken hook. Unfortunately the door to my favorite shower wasn’t latching all the way so I had to use the other shower, which was overrun with bugs - nasty flies, grasshoppers, ants! And I’m not talking about a few here and there. The flies were crawling the walls and there were probably upwards of twenty grasshoppers huddled in the corners.
So I got in with my bucket of tank water and tried the nozzle of the faucet one more time. Still no water. I began to splash myself with water and begin my showering routine. About three minutes in I heard a gurgling noise followed my a low pitch hissing sound. All of the sudden the faucet turns on, spraying water everywhere. I had forgotten to turn it off when I checked a few moments prior and it was startling the grasshoppers. It was sort of like that Jackass skit when one of those idiots dresses like a mouse and rolls around in a room full of mousetraps. One cricket set off another, who set off another, who set off another. Suddenly I had close to twenty jumping crickets bouncing off my legs. Luckily I kept my cool. I quickly finished my shower and got the hell out of there, having thoroughly shaken out all of my clothing before getting dressed. I’m realizing that I will have nerves of steel by the time I get home.
Come to think of it, I don’t really feel like writing about the caste system right now. I think I’ll leave that to another time. Let’s talk about food!
I’ve had a lot of questions about the food here and I don’t think I’ve really taken any time to answer. Yes, the food is excellent, for the most part. When I first arrived I was operating under the assumption that all of the food here would be amazing and delicious and even more amazing. That idea lasted for about two weeks, when I had the unfortunate experience of nearly gagging on mango sabji. Since then I’ve had to eat some other less than delicious Indian food, but I’d say on average the food is pretty darn good.
That being said, I had to put myself on a diet. In the first few days at Gram Chetna I was stuffing myself at every meal. We are only served two official meals a day, breakfast and dinner. Breakfast is served anywhere between 9 am and 11 am, and dinner is served at around 9:00 pm. When I first got here I would eat as much as I could, to the point where I was in pain, for both breakfast and dinner. About two weeks into my stay I felt like I was becoming a fatty, so I imposed a two chapatti rule. I gained a lot of weight in Kenya and I didn’t want the same to happen in India. The two chapatti rule means I can have a regular sized portion of daal or sabji, but I can only eat two chapattis with it. So far it seems to be working. But I’m also taking daily hour-long bike rides. So who really knows what’s doing what.
I also thought I should explain the meaning of some of the words I am using. They’ve become part of my daily vocabulary and I don’t even think to tell you all what they mean. First, chai is tea made is milk and it’s delicious. Well, it has a little bit of water mixed in, but it’s mostly milk. It is also loaded with sugar, so in a way it’s more like candy than tea. It’s one of the things I am going to truly miss when I get home. As for daal, it’s a lentil soup type dish. You can eat it over rice or scooped up with some chapatti bread. Sabji is a general term for any sort of sautéed or stewed vegetable dish. Chapatti is circular flat bread with an approximate 5 inch diameter. Oh, and two rules here is that food must all be vegetarian and no alcohol. But apparently the latter is merely a suggestion because we had beer to celebrate Canada Day.
And Govinda is coming back today! He normally works seven days a week, 24 hours a day, so every six weeks he gets time off to visit his family and relax. This time he was going to a family wedding as well, so he’s been gone for more than two weeks. I can’t say he doesn’t deserve the time off, but when he left he took the joy of this place with him. In his absence we have Lala, who isn’t nearly as good of a cook or as friendly. But allegedly Govinda is coming back today… we’ll see if that actually happens. He’s been coming back “tomorrow” for the last seven days.
Ok, that’s all! Love ya!
MCC
But first I want to tell you a story.
The rains have started as predicted and brought around a fair, cool temperature. I’m not talking 65 F degrees; I mean more like 85 F and humid. Regardless, it’s a nice break from the weather in the last few weeks. Since the rain has come and the temperature has dropped, we have seen an increase in bugs. Last night was an event of biblical proportions and I really wanted to take pictures or video, but my camera was locked in the office. Imagine heavy clouds of swarms by every illuminated light bulb and every wall coated with flies. Yuck! Add to this the fact the generator was out and the water pump couldn‘t be turned on. Normally this would not have been a problem. The drinking water cooler was working (I don‘t know how), I didn’t need to shower, and I can usually make do without electricity.
But this morning I needed to shower, like most mornings. There are several water tanks on the roof of the buildings, so water was accessible. I filled a bucket with an awkward blue hose coming down off the roof and brought it over to the bathing rooms. The Gram Chetna driver, Ramu, saw me lugging the water bucket and let out a surprised sounding “Oh!”, as if he was surprised to see me doing any physical labor. I think the general consensus among the men is that I’m a princess (by rural Rajasthan standards). While I think I’m a pretty good sport, roughing it with the squat toilets and the bucket showers, hand washing my clothing and eating on the floor; they only see my red brick pedicures, my use of a fan at night, and my avoidance of cooking detail. They think I’m soft, but I don’t! I just like my feet looking nice, I get hot at night, and I don’t like my hands smelling like onions all the time.
Anyway. I took the bucket into the bathrooms where there are two showers to choose from. I prefer one over the other because it has a wire rack and hook to hang my clothes on while the other shower just has one broken hook. Unfortunately the door to my favorite shower wasn’t latching all the way so I had to use the other shower, which was overrun with bugs - nasty flies, grasshoppers, ants! And I’m not talking about a few here and there. The flies were crawling the walls and there were probably upwards of twenty grasshoppers huddled in the corners.
So I got in with my bucket of tank water and tried the nozzle of the faucet one more time. Still no water. I began to splash myself with water and begin my showering routine. About three minutes in I heard a gurgling noise followed my a low pitch hissing sound. All of the sudden the faucet turns on, spraying water everywhere. I had forgotten to turn it off when I checked a few moments prior and it was startling the grasshoppers. It was sort of like that Jackass skit when one of those idiots dresses like a mouse and rolls around in a room full of mousetraps. One cricket set off another, who set off another, who set off another. Suddenly I had close to twenty jumping crickets bouncing off my legs. Luckily I kept my cool. I quickly finished my shower and got the hell out of there, having thoroughly shaken out all of my clothing before getting dressed. I’m realizing that I will have nerves of steel by the time I get home.
Come to think of it, I don’t really feel like writing about the caste system right now. I think I’ll leave that to another time. Let’s talk about food!
I’ve had a lot of questions about the food here and I don’t think I’ve really taken any time to answer. Yes, the food is excellent, for the most part. When I first arrived I was operating under the assumption that all of the food here would be amazing and delicious and even more amazing. That idea lasted for about two weeks, when I had the unfortunate experience of nearly gagging on mango sabji. Since then I’ve had to eat some other less than delicious Indian food, but I’d say on average the food is pretty darn good.
That being said, I had to put myself on a diet. In the first few days at Gram Chetna I was stuffing myself at every meal. We are only served two official meals a day, breakfast and dinner. Breakfast is served anywhere between 9 am and 11 am, and dinner is served at around 9:00 pm. When I first got here I would eat as much as I could, to the point where I was in pain, for both breakfast and dinner. About two weeks into my stay I felt like I was becoming a fatty, so I imposed a two chapatti rule. I gained a lot of weight in Kenya and I didn’t want the same to happen in India. The two chapatti rule means I can have a regular sized portion of daal or sabji, but I can only eat two chapattis with it. So far it seems to be working. But I’m also taking daily hour-long bike rides. So who really knows what’s doing what.
I also thought I should explain the meaning of some of the words I am using. They’ve become part of my daily vocabulary and I don’t even think to tell you all what they mean. First, chai is tea made is milk and it’s delicious. Well, it has a little bit of water mixed in, but it’s mostly milk. It is also loaded with sugar, so in a way it’s more like candy than tea. It’s one of the things I am going to truly miss when I get home. As for daal, it’s a lentil soup type dish. You can eat it over rice or scooped up with some chapatti bread. Sabji is a general term for any sort of sautéed or stewed vegetable dish. Chapatti is circular flat bread with an approximate 5 inch diameter. Oh, and two rules here is that food must all be vegetarian and no alcohol. But apparently the latter is merely a suggestion because we had beer to celebrate Canada Day.
And Govinda is coming back today! He normally works seven days a week, 24 hours a day, so every six weeks he gets time off to visit his family and relax. This time he was going to a family wedding as well, so he’s been gone for more than two weeks. I can’t say he doesn’t deserve the time off, but when he left he took the joy of this place with him. In his absence we have Lala, who isn’t nearly as good of a cook or as friendly. But allegedly Govinda is coming back today… we’ll see if that actually happens. He’s been coming back “tomorrow” for the last seven days.
Ok, that’s all! Love ya!
MCC
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
It's July!!!
It is officially the last day on June. I’m fully expecting tomorrow to bring torrential rainstorms too cool this place the eff-word down. That would be nice, but seeing as how I was told the monsoon was predicted to come early this year, I’m starting to doubt there will even be a monsoon at all. Aside from the obvious ecological problems, this would be bad for two reasons.
First, and foremost, I am looking forward to it cooling down a few degrees. While I’m at Gram Chetna I can escape from the heat a little bit by hiding indoors for the majority of the day. But when I’m out doing my touring I wont be able to hide from much. It’s not like I’m going to chill in my hotel from 11 to 3 everyday. Well, I might. But I don’t want to feel like I have no other choice.
The second reason is that if it doesn’t rain in July, August in Rajasthan will not be green. Also, the lakes in Udaipur will be all dried up and nasty. Pushkar normally has a huge lake in the center, but it was all dried up when we went because there has been no rain lately. Basically, Mother Nature needs to get the memo about the world revolving around me for the next six weeks.
Today is Wednesday, and that means tomorrow marks my fourth week here at Gram Chetna and my fifth week in India. That blows my mind! Although my time here has been mostly business, and not all that much fun, it’s really flown by. I’m half way done! I’m in the home stretch! Three more weeks working here and I’m off to Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and the Taj Mahal! It would be really easy to visit the Taj on a long weekend before I’m finished with my internship, but my 26th birthday is August 7th and I’ve arranged my calendar so I’ll be at the Taj for the day itself. But as awesome as that is, I’ll most likely be traveling solo, which isn’t at all what I pictured while imagining my plan back home. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait for the cake, ice cream and birthday hugs and kisses.
I suppose that’s it for now. In the last few days my spirits have greatly improved because of some lovely messages from friends and family back home. Well, not so much family, just friends. Apparently my family doesn’t take the time to write emails to their daughter/sister struggling with culture shock in a foreign land.
Yes, you. Feel guilty. Feel very, very guilty…
MCC
First, and foremost, I am looking forward to it cooling down a few degrees. While I’m at Gram Chetna I can escape from the heat a little bit by hiding indoors for the majority of the day. But when I’m out doing my touring I wont be able to hide from much. It’s not like I’m going to chill in my hotel from 11 to 3 everyday. Well, I might. But I don’t want to feel like I have no other choice.
The second reason is that if it doesn’t rain in July, August in Rajasthan will not be green. Also, the lakes in Udaipur will be all dried up and nasty. Pushkar normally has a huge lake in the center, but it was all dried up when we went because there has been no rain lately. Basically, Mother Nature needs to get the memo about the world revolving around me for the next six weeks.
Today is Wednesday, and that means tomorrow marks my fourth week here at Gram Chetna and my fifth week in India. That blows my mind! Although my time here has been mostly business, and not all that much fun, it’s really flown by. I’m half way done! I’m in the home stretch! Three more weeks working here and I’m off to Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and the Taj Mahal! It would be really easy to visit the Taj on a long weekend before I’m finished with my internship, but my 26th birthday is August 7th and I’ve arranged my calendar so I’ll be at the Taj for the day itself. But as awesome as that is, I’ll most likely be traveling solo, which isn’t at all what I pictured while imagining my plan back home. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait for the cake, ice cream and birthday hugs and kisses.
I suppose that’s it for now. In the last few days my spirits have greatly improved because of some lovely messages from friends and family back home. Well, not so much family, just friends. Apparently my family doesn’t take the time to write emails to their daughter/sister struggling with culture shock in a foreign land.
Yes, you. Feel guilty. Feel very, very guilty…
MCC
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Working Hard.
Holy overburdened intern, Batman!
Yea, I actually said that. For the last three weeks we really haven’t had much to do here at Gram Chetna, except write annual reports. I’ve expressed my frustrations with writing the reports to you all, so I’m going to move past that. Actually, I’m finishing the last one up in the next day or two and it isn’t too unpleasant. Yesterday I hit a wall with my procrastinating. That’s usually how it goes. I’ll putz around, not doing any real work on a specific project, then all of the sudden I realize there‘s no getting out of it. Then I’ll get to work.
That’s what happened yesterday and now I’m a machine. And really, the report is not that bad. It’s boring, tedious, and I really don’t know what I’m talking about. But all in all, it’s not horrible.
But, holy crap do they have more work for us?!?! Two days ago Prashand asked me to take a look at a grant from the Australian Embassy, adding there was no rush because nothing needs to be submitted for a month or so. Then Amit asks me to write a proposal for another organization. But for this project… well, there is no project, yet. That’s for me to develop, along with the budget and everything else. What?!
On another note, I don’t think I was entirely accurate when I said I don’t really like it here. When I’m out on field visits I love India and Gram Chetna. It’s just when I’m stuck on this compound, the same place I sleep, eat, work, and spend my free time, I get a little tired of it. Today turned out to be one of the great days. It involved a bit of hard work, a women’s group visit, a dust storm, going to a party, hunting down kids for sponsorship photos, meeting a woman who wanted to adopt me, and one special surprise I’m going to make you wait for.
The first half of the day was spent in the office. I asked Rajiv if he was going on any field visits today. I was hoping to tag along because I haven’t left this place in what feels like forever. He said he was going sometime in the afternoon and asked if I could handle the midday heat. I cringed on the inside, but thought if I said no due to the heat I might not get another chance. That, and if I wimped out because of the heat I’d be a little disappointed with myself, too.
So at about 2:00 p.m. I slapped on some sun block and hopped on the motorbike. The first stop was a Self-Help Group (SHG) meeting. Just to give you the inside scoop, SHG meetings are not a bunch of people sitting around talking about their daddy issues. When I first heard the term I thought it was some sort of group therapy session, but it’s not. SHGs are groups of around 20 women who save money together, and take turns borrowing different amounts. It’s one of the many forms of microfinance prevalent in the developing world. The groups and the meetings are pretty much run by the members themselves. But most, if not all, of the women are illiterate, so Rajiv has to keep the groups’ books.
The meetings themselves are a little boring and I never really understand what is going on. Today there were two arguments over what? I don‘t know. One kid kept tickling my feet and I became close friends with a group of adolescent girls. As a side note, it’s fun to know that no matter what country you go to, thirteen year old girls get the giggles all the same. Just as the meeting was wrapping up, a dust storm came out of nowhere. I mean nowhere! Clear skies one moment and then suddenly a sandblaster to the face the next. Almost immediately the bickering stopped, the women paid what they needed to pay and everyone went home.
Then, like an angel in the night, a random man appeared through the dust and asked if we’d like to come eat lunch at his house. Rajiv can get a little awkward at times like this. I don’t think he really wanted to go, but he could tell I really wanted him to say yes. I was starving! So we went to this man’s house, which was more like a stable, and we feasted on the floor with his family.
Here I would like to tell you something I’ve been meaning to tell you all for the last two weeks. The number one piece of advice I’ve been given about safe travels in India is under no circumstances ever drink the water. But folks, I’m drinking the water. There is no way not to! When I go on field visits, the first thing I am offered is a plastic lawn chair to sit on. The second item I am offered is a cup of tap water to drink. If I don’t take at least one medium sized swallow, I feel like I’m being rude. A few entries ago I mentioned there are some behaviors for fitting in as a foreign intern. One is no photojournalism, and the other is drink just a little bit of the water.
Where was I? So after lunch, in the style I’m awkwardly growing accustomed to, we left immediately. Next we were off to hunt down children to take their photos and measure their height. This was a little boring and tiresome, so I’ll spare you most of the details. I got to hold a baby, which was cool. And I even made her smile, which is crazy. So far in India, I’ve only made babies cry. The smile was a welcome change.
On the last photo stop we found ourselves at the home of a woman who told me she wanted me as her daughter. This was obviously a rough translation from Rajiv, but it was pretty obvious she thought I was the bees knees. I didn’t even say anything before she had grabbed my hand and was leading me into her house, trying to make me put on prettier clothes. It’s times like this I think Rajiv doesn’t want me with him on field visits. Quite frankly, I cause a scene everywhere I go. He always has to explain what I’m doing there and where I am from, he has to translate messages, accept invitations for chai, the list goes on and on. I get the feeling, especially when we’re out taking pictures, that he just wants to get in and get out. But when I’m there everything is a big elaborate production.
There are many joint families in this area, meaning several generations on one bit of land, sharing common living space. While at this home I was taken into one house and I was given chai. Rajiv left me while he was taking pictures and collecting information on the various kids in the nearby homes. So I was left chillin in this house with a bunch of people who didn’t speak English. So there was a lot of smiling and laughing going on. About ten minutes later Rajiv returned so we could head back to Gram Chetna. We had almost walked to the road when my Indian mom yelled something about chai. Rajiv said something back, but before he finished the sentence the woman had come out of her house and had me by the wrist. Despite Rajiv’s protests she was pulling me back towards her home.
She had already began to make us chai, which usually involves milking the family goat. I thought it would be rude to leave, but Rajiv really didn’t want to stay. I told him that he could make the decision, telling her we couldn’t stay. At one point I stood up to leave, but she grabbed me and sat me back down. All I could do was laugh nervously. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. For a moment I felt a little bad for Rajiv. He really wanted to leave, and I was laughing and instigating the whole thing. Then I snapped out of it! Who cares if he really wanted to leave. We were only going back to Gram Chetna to end the day, not off to another home to take more photos. He can give three minutes to take this woman up on her drink and run chai invite.
So that’s exactly what happened. As we were drinking another boy walks up. It turns out to be one of the sponsored children who still needed to have his photo and information taken down. Indian mom turns to me, gives a little smile and we share a look. He was in such a rush to leave!
This is the part of the story I wanted to keep a surprise until the end. As we said our quick goodbyes raindrops began to fall on our heads. You have no idea the immense joy this rain brought me! This last week has been intolerably hot. With the rain, the temperature suddenly became cooler and the breeze, although humid, was so refreshing. The drive back home was a little harsh with the drops smacking against our cheeks, but I didn’t mind at all. The rain was a perfect way to finish up the day.
It’s amazing how much a day like today can lift my spirits. This Sunday I believe John, Prashand and I are heading into Jaipur for the day on the bus. This will give me a chance to see how to get to Jaipur and back to Khedi Milak again. I don’t think I am going to be spending many more weekends sitting around here, twiddling my thumbs. Once I figure out how to get to and from Jaipur, I’ll be getting out of here on a weekly basis.
MCC
Yea, I actually said that. For the last three weeks we really haven’t had much to do here at Gram Chetna, except write annual reports. I’ve expressed my frustrations with writing the reports to you all, so I’m going to move past that. Actually, I’m finishing the last one up in the next day or two and it isn’t too unpleasant. Yesterday I hit a wall with my procrastinating. That’s usually how it goes. I’ll putz around, not doing any real work on a specific project, then all of the sudden I realize there‘s no getting out of it. Then I’ll get to work.
That’s what happened yesterday and now I’m a machine. And really, the report is not that bad. It’s boring, tedious, and I really don’t know what I’m talking about. But all in all, it’s not horrible.
But, holy crap do they have more work for us?!?! Two days ago Prashand asked me to take a look at a grant from the Australian Embassy, adding there was no rush because nothing needs to be submitted for a month or so. Then Amit asks me to write a proposal for another organization. But for this project… well, there is no project, yet. That’s for me to develop, along with the budget and everything else. What?!
On another note, I don’t think I was entirely accurate when I said I don’t really like it here. When I’m out on field visits I love India and Gram Chetna. It’s just when I’m stuck on this compound, the same place I sleep, eat, work, and spend my free time, I get a little tired of it. Today turned out to be one of the great days. It involved a bit of hard work, a women’s group visit, a dust storm, going to a party, hunting down kids for sponsorship photos, meeting a woman who wanted to adopt me, and one special surprise I’m going to make you wait for.
The first half of the day was spent in the office. I asked Rajiv if he was going on any field visits today. I was hoping to tag along because I haven’t left this place in what feels like forever. He said he was going sometime in the afternoon and asked if I could handle the midday heat. I cringed on the inside, but thought if I said no due to the heat I might not get another chance. That, and if I wimped out because of the heat I’d be a little disappointed with myself, too.
So at about 2:00 p.m. I slapped on some sun block and hopped on the motorbike. The first stop was a Self-Help Group (SHG) meeting. Just to give you the inside scoop, SHG meetings are not a bunch of people sitting around talking about their daddy issues. When I first heard the term I thought it was some sort of group therapy session, but it’s not. SHGs are groups of around 20 women who save money together, and take turns borrowing different amounts. It’s one of the many forms of microfinance prevalent in the developing world. The groups and the meetings are pretty much run by the members themselves. But most, if not all, of the women are illiterate, so Rajiv has to keep the groups’ books.
The meetings themselves are a little boring and I never really understand what is going on. Today there were two arguments over what? I don‘t know. One kid kept tickling my feet and I became close friends with a group of adolescent girls. As a side note, it’s fun to know that no matter what country you go to, thirteen year old girls get the giggles all the same. Just as the meeting was wrapping up, a dust storm came out of nowhere. I mean nowhere! Clear skies one moment and then suddenly a sandblaster to the face the next. Almost immediately the bickering stopped, the women paid what they needed to pay and everyone went home.
Then, like an angel in the night, a random man appeared through the dust and asked if we’d like to come eat lunch at his house. Rajiv can get a little awkward at times like this. I don’t think he really wanted to go, but he could tell I really wanted him to say yes. I was starving! So we went to this man’s house, which was more like a stable, and we feasted on the floor with his family.
Here I would like to tell you something I’ve been meaning to tell you all for the last two weeks. The number one piece of advice I’ve been given about safe travels in India is under no circumstances ever drink the water. But folks, I’m drinking the water. There is no way not to! When I go on field visits, the first thing I am offered is a plastic lawn chair to sit on. The second item I am offered is a cup of tap water to drink. If I don’t take at least one medium sized swallow, I feel like I’m being rude. A few entries ago I mentioned there are some behaviors for fitting in as a foreign intern. One is no photojournalism, and the other is drink just a little bit of the water.
Where was I? So after lunch, in the style I’m awkwardly growing accustomed to, we left immediately. Next we were off to hunt down children to take their photos and measure their height. This was a little boring and tiresome, so I’ll spare you most of the details. I got to hold a baby, which was cool. And I even made her smile, which is crazy. So far in India, I’ve only made babies cry. The smile was a welcome change.
On the last photo stop we found ourselves at the home of a woman who told me she wanted me as her daughter. This was obviously a rough translation from Rajiv, but it was pretty obvious she thought I was the bees knees. I didn’t even say anything before she had grabbed my hand and was leading me into her house, trying to make me put on prettier clothes. It’s times like this I think Rajiv doesn’t want me with him on field visits. Quite frankly, I cause a scene everywhere I go. He always has to explain what I’m doing there and where I am from, he has to translate messages, accept invitations for chai, the list goes on and on. I get the feeling, especially when we’re out taking pictures, that he just wants to get in and get out. But when I’m there everything is a big elaborate production.
There are many joint families in this area, meaning several generations on one bit of land, sharing common living space. While at this home I was taken into one house and I was given chai. Rajiv left me while he was taking pictures and collecting information on the various kids in the nearby homes. So I was left chillin in this house with a bunch of people who didn’t speak English. So there was a lot of smiling and laughing going on. About ten minutes later Rajiv returned so we could head back to Gram Chetna. We had almost walked to the road when my Indian mom yelled something about chai. Rajiv said something back, but before he finished the sentence the woman had come out of her house and had me by the wrist. Despite Rajiv’s protests she was pulling me back towards her home.
She had already began to make us chai, which usually involves milking the family goat. I thought it would be rude to leave, but Rajiv really didn’t want to stay. I told him that he could make the decision, telling her we couldn’t stay. At one point I stood up to leave, but she grabbed me and sat me back down. All I could do was laugh nervously. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. For a moment I felt a little bad for Rajiv. He really wanted to leave, and I was laughing and instigating the whole thing. Then I snapped out of it! Who cares if he really wanted to leave. We were only going back to Gram Chetna to end the day, not off to another home to take more photos. He can give three minutes to take this woman up on her drink and run chai invite.
So that’s exactly what happened. As we were drinking another boy walks up. It turns out to be one of the sponsored children who still needed to have his photo and information taken down. Indian mom turns to me, gives a little smile and we share a look. He was in such a rush to leave!
This is the part of the story I wanted to keep a surprise until the end. As we said our quick goodbyes raindrops began to fall on our heads. You have no idea the immense joy this rain brought me! This last week has been intolerably hot. With the rain, the temperature suddenly became cooler and the breeze, although humid, was so refreshing. The drive back home was a little harsh with the drops smacking against our cheeks, but I didn’t mind at all. The rain was a perfect way to finish up the day.
It’s amazing how much a day like today can lift my spirits. This Sunday I believe John, Prashand and I are heading into Jaipur for the day on the bus. This will give me a chance to see how to get to Jaipur and back to Khedi Milak again. I don’t think I am going to be spending many more weekends sitting around here, twiddling my thumbs. Once I figure out how to get to and from Jaipur, I’ll be getting out of here on a weekly basis.
MCC
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Meh...
It is one hot day here in Khedi Milak! We checked the forecast and we’re supposed to be getting scorching, sunny weather until Sunday, when it may rain. Everyone is getting sick of the hot season and the countdown to the start of the monsoon has begun!
To deal with the heat, air coolers have been set up in a window of each room. I say this like they were just rolled out today. No, there are air coolers in the windows year round, they are just set on high on days like this. An air cooler is in theory like a window AC unit, but not nearly as effective. It’s a huge contraption that must be occasionally filled with water. The bottom half is a water reservoir and the top half is a big fan. The water is somehow shot up through a fibrous filter, which look like hardened yellow Easter basket grass, and the air is cooled as is passes through. Although the air is in no way “cool”, it does take the edge off days like this.
One drawback, however, is that the fan in the big office is in a window that seems to be right where all of the men like to go pee. Instead of walking to the toilets, which are by no means far away, the men pee in a little alley behind the building. This alley is also near the kitchen. So not only the office, but the kitchen, too, always smells like stale piss.
So right now I have the option of sitting by a fan blowing pissy air in my face, or I can move and sweat my balls off. Decisions, decisions…
I really don’t know why no one else finds this offensive. The men’s penchant for peeing all over the place is the one thing I just can’t get used to. The littering hurts my soul, the burping is a bit gross, the spitting is still kind of nasty, but for the most part I can cope. I just don’t understand the need to pee on the side of the building in which you work, or ten feet away from where you eat, instead of walking a little further to a proper toilet.
Ok. Enough of that. I’m sure you are all beginning to notice I’m not too content here. It’s true, but I don’t want to fill my blog with complaints and insensitive remarks on another culture. There are great things about India. Those great things generally happen when I am not sequestered inside Gram Chetna, like field visits and eat and run marriage celebrations.
Ooooh! That’s another thing I wanted to tell you about. Back home, we would refer to marriage celebrations as weddings. I’ve always thought that having the word wedding, as opposed to some term like marriage celebration, puts an emphasis on a one day event of a wedding, instead of the lifetime commitment of a marriage. In a way, to me at least, this conjures up a subconscious notion that a wedding is a separate from the marriage. Really, when I go to a wedding, I’m not celebrating that one specific wedding day. I’m celebrating the start of a marriage, and two people making the decision to spend the rest of their lives together. Does that make sense?
Anyway, that’s that. I just felt the need to balance out my trash talking by giving some praise.
And yesterday I had a bug down the leg of my pants. I was using the internet and I kept feeling something tickling my thigh. I went to scratch it and felt a large lump. At first the lump felt like it was just another bug bite, but then I noticed I couldn’t feel it when I touched it, as if it wasn’t a part of my skin. I quickly realized it was a HUGE bug and started punching my thigh. I was screaming at the time, but I didn’t know it. I stood up, was shaking my leg and hopping up and down. I then realized I had to get my pants off, NOW! Since I was in the office on one side of the building, I had to run to my room, on the other end of the long portico. I was screaming the entire way, past Big Boss, past the head of education, past everyone. I got to my room, slammed the door, stripped my pants off and out fell a beetle the size of my thumbnail. I let out a loud, “God d*mn it!” and then stood in shock for a few seconds. I thought about what I must have looked like and laughed to myself.
I composed myself, walked out of my bedroom and back to the office. Big Boss looked very concerned as I tried to explain I had a beetle in my pants. He seemed to understand, or at least understand I wasn’t dying, and smiled kindly. I went back to the office and continued my business. But I couldn’t stop feeling bugs crawling all over me. Even as I write about it, I am imagining the little tickle of several bugs on my skin. Gross.
Love ya!
To deal with the heat, air coolers have been set up in a window of each room. I say this like they were just rolled out today. No, there are air coolers in the windows year round, they are just set on high on days like this. An air cooler is in theory like a window AC unit, but not nearly as effective. It’s a huge contraption that must be occasionally filled with water. The bottom half is a water reservoir and the top half is a big fan. The water is somehow shot up through a fibrous filter, which look like hardened yellow Easter basket grass, and the air is cooled as is passes through. Although the air is in no way “cool”, it does take the edge off days like this.
One drawback, however, is that the fan in the big office is in a window that seems to be right where all of the men like to go pee. Instead of walking to the toilets, which are by no means far away, the men pee in a little alley behind the building. This alley is also near the kitchen. So not only the office, but the kitchen, too, always smells like stale piss.
So right now I have the option of sitting by a fan blowing pissy air in my face, or I can move and sweat my balls off. Decisions, decisions…
I really don’t know why no one else finds this offensive. The men’s penchant for peeing all over the place is the one thing I just can’t get used to. The littering hurts my soul, the burping is a bit gross, the spitting is still kind of nasty, but for the most part I can cope. I just don’t understand the need to pee on the side of the building in which you work, or ten feet away from where you eat, instead of walking a little further to a proper toilet.
Ok. Enough of that. I’m sure you are all beginning to notice I’m not too content here. It’s true, but I don’t want to fill my blog with complaints and insensitive remarks on another culture. There are great things about India. Those great things generally happen when I am not sequestered inside Gram Chetna, like field visits and eat and run marriage celebrations.
Ooooh! That’s another thing I wanted to tell you about. Back home, we would refer to marriage celebrations as weddings. I’ve always thought that having the word wedding, as opposed to some term like marriage celebration, puts an emphasis on a one day event of a wedding, instead of the lifetime commitment of a marriage. In a way, to me at least, this conjures up a subconscious notion that a wedding is a separate from the marriage. Really, when I go to a wedding, I’m not celebrating that one specific wedding day. I’m celebrating the start of a marriage, and two people making the decision to spend the rest of their lives together. Does that make sense?
Anyway, that’s that. I just felt the need to balance out my trash talking by giving some praise.
And yesterday I had a bug down the leg of my pants. I was using the internet and I kept feeling something tickling my thigh. I went to scratch it and felt a large lump. At first the lump felt like it was just another bug bite, but then I noticed I couldn’t feel it when I touched it, as if it wasn’t a part of my skin. I quickly realized it was a HUGE bug and started punching my thigh. I was screaming at the time, but I didn’t know it. I stood up, was shaking my leg and hopping up and down. I then realized I had to get my pants off, NOW! Since I was in the office on one side of the building, I had to run to my room, on the other end of the long portico. I was screaming the entire way, past Big Boss, past the head of education, past everyone. I got to my room, slammed the door, stripped my pants off and out fell a beetle the size of my thumbnail. I let out a loud, “God d*mn it!” and then stood in shock for a few seconds. I thought about what I must have looked like and laughed to myself.
I composed myself, walked out of my bedroom and back to the office. Big Boss looked very concerned as I tried to explain I had a beetle in my pants. He seemed to understand, or at least understand I wasn’t dying, and smiled kindly. I went back to the office and continued my business. But I couldn’t stop feeling bugs crawling all over me. Even as I write about it, I am imagining the little tickle of several bugs on my skin. Gross.
Love ya!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
So What!
I think I’ll soon have to adopt what I call the So What attitude. It’s hot? So what. The windy heat is drying out my eyes? So what. I can feel the sweat drops rolling down my chest and back? So what. The wind, heat, and dust are ruining my nails and drying out my skin? So what.
I have to accept the fact that the heat, wind and sand aren’t going to kill me. I most definitely have a constant urge to run away from this environment when it gets too uncomfortable. I think that’s normal for a western person visiting the desert in June. When I start to sweat, and I mean really sweat, I want to escape and cool off so badly. But there is nowhere to go. When my feet start looking nasty I want to hit the bath with my pumice stone, exfoliate those bad boys and give myself a pedicure! But that simply isn’t possible here.
These desert living conditions are harsh and pretty unbearable, but I’m not going to die here. I need to remember that. And also remember to drink lots of water. I’m a firm believer in what doesn’t kill you (usually) makes you stronger. I can do this… I can do this…
Last night we went to a wedding. Actually, we went to two weddings. The first wedding was the wedding for one of the teachers employed at one of the Gram Chetna preschools. It was not only her wedding, but her sisters as well. It was so interesting to see two sisters share a wedding without the animosity that would surely be present if it was in the USA and probably any other western country. Weddings are expensive, and the bride’s family has to pay for the whole thing as well as provide a dowry. So why not knock out two birds with one stone?
I wished we could have stayed a little longer, but we had to get to the second wedding. We only had time to walk back to the house and said hello to Bride 1 and Bride 2. We sat down in the yard for a few minutes, had some sweets and left just as the coconuts and other ceremonial stuff were being rounded up. Bummer.
The second wedding was for a young lady in Big Boss’ family. I have no idea who is who, but this young lady was someone’s niece. Indian wedding etiquette is very unfamiliar to me. At the second wedding, we didn’t see the bride or groom; we ate dinner and walked out. There were no congratulations, no introductions, no gift giving, we didn’t even stay for a ceremony. We walked in, sat down, gorged ourselves, and 15 minutes later we were on the motorbikes headed home. It was a quintessential eat and run. I asked Rajiv if that was acceptable wedding behavior. He said it was completely fine and that there was no requirement to stay and visit.
Interesting.
We are patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. By we I mean I am patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. She was supposed to arrive on Sunday, but no dice. John is really great and all, make no mistake. He helped me buy the right mangos in the market, he organized the whole trip to Pushkar, he lets me use his computer to access the internet, the list goes on and on. But to put it simply, I need a female companion. I am very much a girl’s girl and all this man business is wearing me down. I’m sure you’ve all picked up on that by now. I just worry that I’m looking forward to her arrival too much; I may meet her and be really disappointed.
Oh! And John figured out a solution to the electrified water cooler. When we want water we have to put on at least one flip flop, two if you‘re not lazy. That way the electricity can not be grounded or something. To be honest, I don’t really know much about how electricity travels. However, you should see everyone balancing on one flip flop while filling their water containers… It’s pretty funny.
K, Bye!
MCC
I have to accept the fact that the heat, wind and sand aren’t going to kill me. I most definitely have a constant urge to run away from this environment when it gets too uncomfortable. I think that’s normal for a western person visiting the desert in June. When I start to sweat, and I mean really sweat, I want to escape and cool off so badly. But there is nowhere to go. When my feet start looking nasty I want to hit the bath with my pumice stone, exfoliate those bad boys and give myself a pedicure! But that simply isn’t possible here.
These desert living conditions are harsh and pretty unbearable, but I’m not going to die here. I need to remember that. And also remember to drink lots of water. I’m a firm believer in what doesn’t kill you (usually) makes you stronger. I can do this… I can do this…
Last night we went to a wedding. Actually, we went to two weddings. The first wedding was the wedding for one of the teachers employed at one of the Gram Chetna preschools. It was not only her wedding, but her sisters as well. It was so interesting to see two sisters share a wedding without the animosity that would surely be present if it was in the USA and probably any other western country. Weddings are expensive, and the bride’s family has to pay for the whole thing as well as provide a dowry. So why not knock out two birds with one stone?
I wished we could have stayed a little longer, but we had to get to the second wedding. We only had time to walk back to the house and said hello to Bride 1 and Bride 2. We sat down in the yard for a few minutes, had some sweets and left just as the coconuts and other ceremonial stuff were being rounded up. Bummer.
The second wedding was for a young lady in Big Boss’ family. I have no idea who is who, but this young lady was someone’s niece. Indian wedding etiquette is very unfamiliar to me. At the second wedding, we didn’t see the bride or groom; we ate dinner and walked out. There were no congratulations, no introductions, no gift giving, we didn’t even stay for a ceremony. We walked in, sat down, gorged ourselves, and 15 minutes later we were on the motorbikes headed home. It was a quintessential eat and run. I asked Rajiv if that was acceptable wedding behavior. He said it was completely fine and that there was no requirement to stay and visit.
Interesting.
We are patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. By we I mean I am patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. She was supposed to arrive on Sunday, but no dice. John is really great and all, make no mistake. He helped me buy the right mangos in the market, he organized the whole trip to Pushkar, he lets me use his computer to access the internet, the list goes on and on. But to put it simply, I need a female companion. I am very much a girl’s girl and all this man business is wearing me down. I’m sure you’ve all picked up on that by now. I just worry that I’m looking forward to her arrival too much; I may meet her and be really disappointed.
Oh! And John figured out a solution to the electrified water cooler. When we want water we have to put on at least one flip flop, two if you‘re not lazy. That way the electricity can not be grounded or something. To be honest, I don’t really know much about how electricity travels. However, you should see everyone balancing on one flip flop while filling their water containers… It’s pretty funny.
K, Bye!
MCC
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