Well, I think I'm in love with little Dharamsala. There's really not much to do here, and at times the traveler in me gets a little restless, but mostly it's been nice to just do nothing. I've just been spending my days roaming up and down the three streets that comprise McLeod Ganj. The shop owners and street vendors already know my face, I'm sure -- and some even know my name. I've developed a bit of a habit of disappearing into one shop for an hour or so, chatting and drinking tea with the shop owner...and then, of course, buying something. It's been fun to have a little local interaction. They have some interesting stories.
It has rained -- poured, actually, for about two hours straight -- the last couple days. It's pouring outside now. You have to kind of plan your day around it, to make sure you're somewhere you can wait it out for a good hour or so. I've done a decent job. The day before yesterday, I was sitting at a rooftop restaurant, eating the most disappointing grilled cheese and tomato sandwich ever, during the downpour. It was next to a muddy cliff and I watched with the restaurant staff as mini mudslides tumbled down into the street below. It did make me a little nervous, but I figured being on top of the mudslide would probably be better than being on the bottom. The roar of the rain was almost deafening. Just when you thought it couldn't possibly rain any harder, the sound would get even louder. It was pretty impressive. So, this is what a real monsoon looks like...
Yesterday, I made it to the Tibet museum. The Tibetans have really endured a lot. It was really sad to read the accounts of former prisoners and those who risked their lives fleeing their own country. And it's even sadder to hear how the Tibetan traditions, language, and culture are being lost -- systematically destroyed and phased out by the Chinese. The 14th Dalai Lama has been living in exile here for 50 years now. Can you imagine being kept from your home, culture, and people for 50 years? At least he's safe here, though. The poor Panchen Lama is still missing, kidnapped by the Chinese in the 1990s. There are missing posters all over town with his young face on it, and stickers and funds asking for help in getting him released from Chinese custody. How awful, when you represent such an important part of a culture and a belief system, to be kept from your education and your religious duties to your people. It's interesting, though -- apparently, the 13th Dalai Lama foretold all of this before he died, warning that if the Tibetans didn't fight for their land, it would be lost and so would their way of life and the religious leaders that hold it all together.
I was chatting with my buddy at the shop yesterday a little about religion. He was showing me dozens of amazing paintings done by local monks of mandalas, pictures of the Buddha's life story, and various deities. He's a Hindu, I believe, but he knew so much about Buddhism -- he explained the symbolism of every painting to me like it was his own religion. He asked me if I was Buddhist (first time I've ever gotten that one), and I told him no, though I find it a very interesting and appealing religion. "I'm not really anything," I told him. And he shook his head and said, "No, you're everything." I really liked that. Usually I think of agnosticism as not being part of anything, but I like his perspective much better. I believe in something, so I suppose that makes me a little bit of everything. There are things I like about most religions, and they often do have a common theme, and I suppose if you took all those things and put them together, that's my religion right there. I'm not nothing; I'm a little bit of everything.
I'm planning to finally get some yoga in this afternoon, so if I have any other life-defining epiphanies, I'll be sure to share them. :) That's what being alone in Dharamsala is good for: lots of thinking.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Just me, the monks, and the mountains
The bus ride to Dharamsala was not quite the relaxing start I was hoping for. It wasn't the worst overnight bus ride I've taken -- nothing will ever beat out Kampala to Nairobi -- but it was almost as sleepless. You hear overnight bus, you think great, I can sleep the whole way and then I'm there. One less night to pay for a hotel. And from Delhi to Dharamsala, that's all that is offered. It is difficult to sleep, however, when the driver is constantly blasting the horn and you're being jostled around, at higher than reasonable speeds, up a mountain. The road was like most mountain roads, narrow and windy, but then you also have dogs, cows, monkeys, and falling rocks on one side, and a huge cliff on the other. And these drivers don't take those turns delicately -- they attack them. There was a sign on the road just outside Dharamsala that read, "Dashing Means Death." Needless to say, I was relieved to arrive safely.
Dharamsala itself isn't much -- most of the action, and the Dalai Lama's monastery and residence, are up the road in McLeod Ganj. The taxi drive up the hill is quite a memorable ride. The road is hardly a road at all...I'm kind of amazed cars can get up it. But I tried to concentrate instead on the beautiful view and trust that my driver knew what he was doing.
I had arrived in McLeod Ganj by 7am and the town was just waking up. That's my favorite time to be out...I wish I could always get myself up that early. I found a room without much trouble -- it was the last one available at the first place I went. I may try to find a better one later on, but at the time, I just wanted my own bathroom and to be settled. I had a brief run-in with a large 5-legged spider in that bathroom, but I emerged victorious (though a little ashamed) and went about my first day.
I spent the day wandering around town, getting a feel for it and doing some shopping (the jewelry here is awesome and I'm in big trouble...there's no one to stop me). I'm in love with it already. Tibetans are gorgeous, warm, and peaceful people. Monks cover the streets in vivid color, and their quiet sanguinity brings a sense of calm and safety to the whole place, even as mopeds and taxis go screaming through the streets. The food is simple and comforting. And the weather is amazing! It rained off and on all day, and it felt great to walk around in it. The sun would come out for a bit, illuminating the stunning view of lush hills spotted with houses and temples, their prayer flags waving in the breeze. Then the mist would roll back in, shrouding it again, and it would rain. It can do this all week, and I won't mind. It's such a relief from the hot stickiness of Delhi. I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable outside.
I have to admit, it's a little lonely. I think that after 2 months of constantly being with people, I'm just not used to being alone. It's probably going to take a day or so to adjust and appreciate the solitude. It is nice, though, to be free to do whatever I want and go at my own pace.
This morning, I visited the Dalai Lama's temple and residence. The Tibet museum was closed, so I'll have to try that again another day. There's a meditation class tomorrow I might try, I might go see a movie at the local theater, I might try to find a yoga class, or maybe I'll just hang out with the monks. It's currently pouring rain outside, so I might just find a nice cafe to hang out in and wait until it lets up. A nice cup of chai and my book are calling my name. It's so nice not to have anything that I need to do...
Dharamsala itself isn't much -- most of the action, and the Dalai Lama's monastery and residence, are up the road in McLeod Ganj. The taxi drive up the hill is quite a memorable ride. The road is hardly a road at all...I'm kind of amazed cars can get up it. But I tried to concentrate instead on the beautiful view and trust that my driver knew what he was doing.
I had arrived in McLeod Ganj by 7am and the town was just waking up. That's my favorite time to be out...I wish I could always get myself up that early. I found a room without much trouble -- it was the last one available at the first place I went. I may try to find a better one later on, but at the time, I just wanted my own bathroom and to be settled. I had a brief run-in with a large 5-legged spider in that bathroom, but I emerged victorious (though a little ashamed) and went about my first day.
I spent the day wandering around town, getting a feel for it and doing some shopping (the jewelry here is awesome and I'm in big trouble...there's no one to stop me). I'm in love with it already. Tibetans are gorgeous, warm, and peaceful people. Monks cover the streets in vivid color, and their quiet sanguinity brings a sense of calm and safety to the whole place, even as mopeds and taxis go screaming through the streets. The food is simple and comforting. And the weather is amazing! It rained off and on all day, and it felt great to walk around in it. The sun would come out for a bit, illuminating the stunning view of lush hills spotted with houses and temples, their prayer flags waving in the breeze. Then the mist would roll back in, shrouding it again, and it would rain. It can do this all week, and I won't mind. It's such a relief from the hot stickiness of Delhi. I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable outside.
I have to admit, it's a little lonely. I think that after 2 months of constantly being with people, I'm just not used to being alone. It's probably going to take a day or so to adjust and appreciate the solitude. It is nice, though, to be free to do whatever I want and go at my own pace.
This morning, I visited the Dalai Lama's temple and residence. The Tibet museum was closed, so I'll have to try that again another day. There's a meditation class tomorrow I might try, I might go see a movie at the local theater, I might try to find a yoga class, or maybe I'll just hang out with the monks. It's currently pouring rain outside, so I might just find a nice cafe to hang out in and wait until it lets up. A nice cup of chai and my book are calling my name. It's so nice not to have anything that I need to do...
Thursday, August 6, 2009
And then there was one...
The other girls left Wednesday night, embarking on their respective adventures before heading back to the States. My adventure begins tonight – I’ll be taking the 8pm bus to Dharamsala, home to the Dalai Lama and his government-in-exile. I’m looking forward to it. It will be one week of relaxing in the peace and coolness of the Himalayas, reading, writing, and enjoying some much-needed time to just think, reflect, and process the whirlwind of the past two months. We’ll see how long it takes to get lonely, but for now, it sounds like bliss.
The past few days have been great, just making our rounds to say goodbye and hit up all of our favorite spots one last time. Tuesday, we stopped by the JMC to say goodbye – and thank you – to Vimala, Antra, Uma, and the others. It really has been an incredible opportunity to have worked with them. We learned so much.
From there, we popped over to the GRC, hoping Usha (the GRC's caretaker) would be there with her daughters Puja and Aarti. Puja is 3 years old and we have all fallen head over heels in love with her. It took her a very long time to warm up to us, and it was hard to know whether she liked us or not until very recently. Usha said she's been asking where we've been, though, and lately when she sees us, she's all smiles - and she rarely smiles. Usha was there yesterday, but she pantomimed that the girls were at home and Aarti was sick. I think Usha could see how disappointed we were – we had come mostly to see them – and when we took out the gifts for her to give them, she said, “Challo” (“Let’s go”), and motioned for us to follow her home.
We woke Puja up, but she didn’t stay grumpy for long after we gave her the candy. We stayed and played with her for a bit…and graciously declined Usha’s request to take her with us back to America (not the first time she’s asked). Aarti seemed to be doing better – I guess Usha took her to the hospital yesterday. Usha explained the situation – she speaks Hindi to us like we understand what she’s saying – but none of us could quite figure out what happened. Aarti’s an amazing big sister. She’s so patient, even when Puja’s throwing a fit because she has to share her candy. Puja was hording the suckers, hiding them away in her backpack, and would throw a mini tantrum if you even teased her about taking one, but Aarti would just smile at her. Puja has quite a lot of ‘tude, as well, with the neighbor kids. A few of them came around to see what the white girls were doing there, and Puja would literally run them off, her tiny fists all balled up and her face in a scornful pout – like, “These are my white girls. Scram!” We’d never seen that side of her before! It was pretty funny to watch. She’s gonna be somethin’ else, that one…a whole lotta trouble.
The rickshaw ride home was extraordinarily annoying, but we just kept reminding ourselves that it was the last time. It took forever to get one, as it usually does from Jasola, and an amazing amount of arguing before the guy finally broke down and accepted our price…as it usually does from anywhere. Then, not a mile down the road, he pulled into the gas station where there was a HUGE line and left us in the rickshaw while he went to buy some paan (Indian chewing tobacco) – also, not an unusual occurrence. He, evidently, forgot to put the break on, so we started rolling back into traffic and I had to jump out and physically stop the rickshaw! Then we had to stand outside the rickshaw for 10 minutes while he got gas. Last time, last time...
Wednesday was Rakhi – the holiday for siblings! We were supposed to go to Charu’s to celebrate with her family, but she called the other day to tell us they were going to have to leave town because her husband’s father is really ill and wanted to see Viddhi. She invited Colette and me over after we get back, before we leave again, so hopefully we’ll get to say goodbye. It was sweet, though, to see all the men today - from little kids to old men - wearing their red bracelets given to them by their sisters. The idea is that the sister buys a bracelet for her brother and ties it on his wrist as a blessing, and at the same time it is kind of a pledge between brother and sister that he will watch over and protect her. Then they eat sweets and spend time together. It's a pretty darling holiday. There was an article in the paper on it today, and it was saying how excited families get for Rakhi, to spend time with their siblings, and honor the bond between brothers and sisters – one guy said, “Every guy wants to be with his sister on Rakhi.” We should have a holiday like this in our culture, don't you think? I'm just going to start adopting holidays and traditions from other cultures and make my family celebrate them.
We spent the rest of the afternoon getting packed up, chilled for a little bit, and then it was time for the girls to leave me. And now, for the next six days, I am on my own.
The past few days have been great, just making our rounds to say goodbye and hit up all of our favorite spots one last time. Tuesday, we stopped by the JMC to say goodbye – and thank you – to Vimala, Antra, Uma, and the others. It really has been an incredible opportunity to have worked with them. We learned so much.
From there, we popped over to the GRC, hoping Usha (the GRC's caretaker) would be there with her daughters Puja and Aarti. Puja is 3 years old and we have all fallen head over heels in love with her. It took her a very long time to warm up to us, and it was hard to know whether she liked us or not until very recently. Usha said she's been asking where we've been, though, and lately when she sees us, she's all smiles - and she rarely smiles. Usha was there yesterday, but she pantomimed that the girls were at home and Aarti was sick. I think Usha could see how disappointed we were – we had come mostly to see them – and when we took out the gifts for her to give them, she said, “Challo” (“Let’s go”), and motioned for us to follow her home.
We woke Puja up, but she didn’t stay grumpy for long after we gave her the candy. We stayed and played with her for a bit…and graciously declined Usha’s request to take her with us back to America (not the first time she’s asked). Aarti seemed to be doing better – I guess Usha took her to the hospital yesterday. Usha explained the situation – she speaks Hindi to us like we understand what she’s saying – but none of us could quite figure out what happened. Aarti’s an amazing big sister. She’s so patient, even when Puja’s throwing a fit because she has to share her candy. Puja was hording the suckers, hiding them away in her backpack, and would throw a mini tantrum if you even teased her about taking one, but Aarti would just smile at her. Puja has quite a lot of ‘tude, as well, with the neighbor kids. A few of them came around to see what the white girls were doing there, and Puja would literally run them off, her tiny fists all balled up and her face in a scornful pout – like, “These are my white girls. Scram!” We’d never seen that side of her before! It was pretty funny to watch. She’s gonna be somethin’ else, that one…a whole lotta trouble.
The rickshaw ride home was extraordinarily annoying, but we just kept reminding ourselves that it was the last time. It took forever to get one, as it usually does from Jasola, and an amazing amount of arguing before the guy finally broke down and accepted our price…as it usually does from anywhere. Then, not a mile down the road, he pulled into the gas station where there was a HUGE line and left us in the rickshaw while he went to buy some paan (Indian chewing tobacco) – also, not an unusual occurrence. He, evidently, forgot to put the break on, so we started rolling back into traffic and I had to jump out and physically stop the rickshaw! Then we had to stand outside the rickshaw for 10 minutes while he got gas. Last time, last time...
Wednesday was Rakhi – the holiday for siblings! We were supposed to go to Charu’s to celebrate with her family, but she called the other day to tell us they were going to have to leave town because her husband’s father is really ill and wanted to see Viddhi. She invited Colette and me over after we get back, before we leave again, so hopefully we’ll get to say goodbye. It was sweet, though, to see all the men today - from little kids to old men - wearing their red bracelets given to them by their sisters. The idea is that the sister buys a bracelet for her brother and ties it on his wrist as a blessing, and at the same time it is kind of a pledge between brother and sister that he will watch over and protect her. Then they eat sweets and spend time together. It's a pretty darling holiday. There was an article in the paper on it today, and it was saying how excited families get for Rakhi, to spend time with their siblings, and honor the bond between brothers and sisters – one guy said, “Every guy wants to be with his sister on Rakhi.” We should have a holiday like this in our culture, don't you think? I'm just going to start adopting holidays and traditions from other cultures and make my family celebrate them.
We spent the rest of the afternoon getting packed up, chilled for a little bit, and then it was time for the girls to leave me. And now, for the next six days, I am on my own.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
The Big Day
So, I think we rocked it. It was an intimidating start – we were kept waiting in the hallway for almost an hour, then kept waiting in the lady’s office (she’s the head Officer of the Delhi Government Mission Convergence Initiative) for another 10 minutes, where we finally gave our presentation between a series of interruptions. I wasn’t sure we were going to have her full attention at first, and I was half expecting her to tell us to come back on Monday. But, she actually did listen quite closely and was very receptive to ours and Vimala’s suggestions for future programming and greater government coordination. She was impressed by all the work we did and began making plans with Vimala to set up meetings with the Health Minister and others to push this onward. I don’t really think we could have asked for much more than that. We all left satisfied with what we’ve accomplished, relieved to have it over with, and hopeful about what may come from it.
Afterward, we met up with Vimala’s son in New Friends Colony to celebrate. It was a great time. We drank plenty of beer, laughed, learned about Indian sports (Vimala finally explained Cricket to us in a way that made some sense!), ate the tastiest, greasiest, messiest chicken shwarma I’ve ever had, and followed it up with ice cream sundaes at Baskin Robbins. A perfect celebration, if you ask any of us.
Tomorrow we’re finally going to check out a Bollywood movie in the theater -- we're seeing the latest blockbuster Love Aaj Kaal (“Love Nowadays”). It looks pretty great! I only wish there were subtitles... Then we’ve been invited to join Prem and Abha for dinner, which is always a good time. I think the next few days are going to be really fun, getting in all we can of Delhi, spending quality time with people, and saying our goodbyes. I can't believe in just two weeks, I'll be leaving India. It's going to be hard to go.
Afterward, we met up with Vimala’s son in New Friends Colony to celebrate. It was a great time. We drank plenty of beer, laughed, learned about Indian sports (Vimala finally explained Cricket to us in a way that made some sense!), ate the tastiest, greasiest, messiest chicken shwarma I’ve ever had, and followed it up with ice cream sundaes at Baskin Robbins. A perfect celebration, if you ask any of us.
Tomorrow we’re finally going to check out a Bollywood movie in the theater -- we're seeing the latest blockbuster Love Aaj Kaal (“Love Nowadays”). It looks pretty great! I only wish there were subtitles... Then we’ve been invited to join Prem and Abha for dinner, which is always a good time. I think the next few days are going to be really fun, getting in all we can of Delhi, spending quality time with people, and saying our goodbyes. I can't believe in just two weeks, I'll be leaving India. It's going to be hard to go.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Preparing for the Big Day
Well, tomorrow is the big day! The culmination of our project here, and our chance to prove (mostly to ourselves) that we actually accomplished something useful. We've spent the past week getting our presentation ready, and we are anxious to have it over with. Our efforts to survey the bigger facilities have, unfortunately, been unsuccessful. It’s been difficult to find contacts at these places, and they don’t seem to have much time for us. It’s fairly disappointing – I think it’s really important that we get a good idea of the spectrum of services and facilities available, even if the majority of the people we’ve surveyed aren’t using the big ones. I’m really interested to see what a government hospital looks like here…and I’m dying to see Apollo. I think if we can’t get any appointments for an interview, we’ll just stop by next week to at least look around and mark them on our handy GPS. It’s funny…I’ve gotten so used to watching for facilities to map, that whenever I see a clinic, pharmacy, chemist, or water pump – no matter where we are – my automatic reaction now is to mark it. I’m ruined for life. I will forever be mentally noting health facilities and “dirty areas.”
Today, we presented for the New Concept/JMC/GRC staff. It was excellent preparation for tomorrow, especially since we got schooled. I’m endlessly impressed by the New Concept staff. They had great suggestions and pointed out some definite oversights on our part. We are learning a lot from them. Some final adjustments and our presentation will be much stronger tomorrow. Sarah said it, and it’s true – those ladies of New Concept (Vimala, Uma, Vidya, and Gita) could turn the UN around by themselves and fix the world's problems. They are incredibly brilliant, influential, and inspiring women. My main regret with our project here is that we didn’t get to work with them more closely.
It was a good turnout for our presentation today – Charu was there, Mitlesh came (I almost teared up when we had our goodbye hugs), Bobbi and Survesh from the GRC, even Vimala’s son and daughter, as well as several others from the various departments around New Concept. I wish I could have gotten to know all of them better. We were always in the field, and when we were at the office, we were always in their way.
I know this is really nerdy, but I get really excited being at New Concept and seeing evidence of all the projects they’re working on. You walk around people’s desks and see reports for USAID, manuals for youth health conferences, pamphlets being designed for various NGOs, books on children’s rights, India World Health Reports, and on and on. For me, this is exciting stuff. This is what I want to do, the kinds of things I want to work on – well, more the actual projects, rather than the documentation and reporting, but still. It feels right to be surrounded by it, like I’m in the right place, or on the right track. It’s a fantastic feeling to know you’re doing what you’re meant to be doing…and it’s equally fantastic to be surrounded by people who are doing the same thing. This is why I gush so much about New Concept, I guess. These are the kinds of projects I aspire to be involved in and the kinds of women I aspire to be like.
In other news, the monsoon has been flirting with us some more. We thought it had finally arrived (to those of you who have been under the impression that it’s been raining here, oh nononononono) after it rained for 8 hours straight on Monday. That’s usually a good sign. And there were all sorts of problems – flooding, water logging, pot holes galore, electrocutions, falling trees, an entire bus submerged in water. The paper said that Delhi got about 50% of its total rainfall for the season (maybe even the year) just on Monday. So, we were pretty sure that the rain was finally here to stay. It has rained once since then, maybe for half an hour. And it’s back to being hot and muggy. I think Delhi is actually the only place in the entire country not getting its monsoon. This really is the absolute worst time of year to be here…I will have to remember next time to come in the winter.
Wish us luck for tomorrow! Hopefully we’ll leave an impression.
Today, we presented for the New Concept/JMC/GRC staff. It was excellent preparation for tomorrow, especially since we got schooled. I’m endlessly impressed by the New Concept staff. They had great suggestions and pointed out some definite oversights on our part. We are learning a lot from them. Some final adjustments and our presentation will be much stronger tomorrow. Sarah said it, and it’s true – those ladies of New Concept (Vimala, Uma, Vidya, and Gita) could turn the UN around by themselves and fix the world's problems. They are incredibly brilliant, influential, and inspiring women. My main regret with our project here is that we didn’t get to work with them more closely.
It was a good turnout for our presentation today – Charu was there, Mitlesh came (I almost teared up when we had our goodbye hugs), Bobbi and Survesh from the GRC, even Vimala’s son and daughter, as well as several others from the various departments around New Concept. I wish I could have gotten to know all of them better. We were always in the field, and when we were at the office, we were always in their way.
I know this is really nerdy, but I get really excited being at New Concept and seeing evidence of all the projects they’re working on. You walk around people’s desks and see reports for USAID, manuals for youth health conferences, pamphlets being designed for various NGOs, books on children’s rights, India World Health Reports, and on and on. For me, this is exciting stuff. This is what I want to do, the kinds of things I want to work on – well, more the actual projects, rather than the documentation and reporting, but still. It feels right to be surrounded by it, like I’m in the right place, or on the right track. It’s a fantastic feeling to know you’re doing what you’re meant to be doing…and it’s equally fantastic to be surrounded by people who are doing the same thing. This is why I gush so much about New Concept, I guess. These are the kinds of projects I aspire to be involved in and the kinds of women I aspire to be like.
In other news, the monsoon has been flirting with us some more. We thought it had finally arrived (to those of you who have been under the impression that it’s been raining here, oh nononononono) after it rained for 8 hours straight on Monday. That’s usually a good sign. And there were all sorts of problems – flooding, water logging, pot holes galore, electrocutions, falling trees, an entire bus submerged in water. The paper said that Delhi got about 50% of its total rainfall for the season (maybe even the year) just on Monday. So, we were pretty sure that the rain was finally here to stay. It has rained once since then, maybe for half an hour. And it’s back to being hot and muggy. I think Delhi is actually the only place in the entire country not getting its monsoon. This really is the absolute worst time of year to be here…I will have to remember next time to come in the winter.
Wish us luck for tomorrow! Hopefully we’ll leave an impression.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Fac finding, soul cleansing, and elbow rubbing
I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line, two months went by and here we are, in the final stages of our project, getting in as much shopping and sight-seeing as we can, and making plans for good-bye dinners.
Work last week was much more ad hoc than it’s been, and things are now shifting to more time spent at the computer than in the field. We’ve had an interesting run with the facilities. I feel like we’ve gotten a pretty good range, in terms of the kinds of facilities and services available to these two communities. We’ve seen everything from a “health van,” giving medicines and vaccines out the back of a jeep, to local one-room clinics, to holistic medical research institutes complete with saunas and steam baths. Some of our target facilities have been surprisingly hard to locate – we drove around for about an hour last week, asking people all over the place where this certain hospital was, only to find, after being pointed in all directions, the “government hospital” we were expecting was really a much smaller private clinic with a completely different name. It was very indicative of the amount of community awareness, in terms of facilities, their names, and who actually operates them. The health van was also hard to find, no one we asked knowing exactly who operated it or where exactly it came to. We were told it was run by some NGO and came every week to Jasola, but not even the staff at the JMC knew of it. Finally, we figured out that it is actually a government service and comes three days a week, parking right across the street from the GRC…granted, hidden behind a Hindu temple, but nonetheless, right under our noses. This is the recurring problem in development – the right hand knows not what the left hand is doing, and then you just have a fumbling, confused, ineffective mess.
This week we’ll hopefully get to visit the big guys – the All-India Institute of Medical Sciences (the government hospital) and the great Apollo Hospital. We will have the boss lady herself with us, so hopefully it will go well. For the most part, our interviews have been well-received and informative. Our last one, however, ended with the doctor asking us why we had just wasted so much of her time with our questions that will bring her nothing. It caught us all a bit off-guard, including poor Charu, who always bears the brunt of it. We mumbled some explanations of what we hope to come out of this, thanking her profusely for her time. She was not impressed, however, and we scurried apologetically out of her office as she called the next patient in. You win some, you lose some, I guess.
Now we are hard at work preparing our presentation for the Delhi government, which is a week from tomorrow. I’m a little nervous for that...I hope it’s well-received and doesn’t come off as preachy or accusatory. We have Vimala working with us, though, so I know I don’t have to worry.
This weekend was well-spent, taking advantage of what Delhi has to offer and checking some things off our “To Do/See” list. Thursday night, Sarah and I went to Nizamuddin’s Tomb for the qawwali music – every week, a group of men sing their hearts out in prayer at the mosque. It is a beautiful thing to experience, and we were really welcomed in by the people there, invited to not just witness it, but to be a part of it. We stood at first on the edge of the crowd, as usual trying to be as inconspicuous as possible (and as usual, unsuccessful despite our best efforts), but we were soon nudged and then dragged up to the front by one very emphatic woman. And despite all the eyes and the camera phone shots, I felt welcomed there. I was relieved that we managed not to commit any taboos or seriously offend anyone…there were, thankfully, signs to help us out (“No uncovered heads beyond this point” and “Ladies not permitted inside temple”) and a few people watching out for us, as well.
Saturday, we had a much more peaceful spiritual experience, sitting in the mandatory silence of Delhi’s Lotus Temple – the Baha’i temple shaped like a giant, unfolding lotus flower. It’s made of white marble and is full of light, shining in through the many windows and streaming down through the petal openings above. It is a very impressive, comforting structure, much like the Baha’i faith itself. It’s a very accepting religion, believing in the unity of all religions and the unity of humankind. It welcomes and invites people of all faiths, it declares equality between men and women, and interestingly, it stresses the need for accordance between religion and science – because without science, religion is just superstition, and without religion, science is immoral and materialistic. I like that. Bahai's are also very involved in development projects around the world. They consider development work an act of worship in itself. I really like that.
Saturday night, Prem and Abha invited the three of us to go with them to their Club. It’s a very prestigious club – it’s where all the big wigs hang out, and there is a 40-year waiting list to be a member! So, we felt honored to be their guests and get to rub elbows with Delhi high society. Prem and Abha are so cute. Prem, being retired, hangs out there all the time, swimming in the pool and socializing at the bar. He seems to know everyone – oh, this is the Electoral Chief for the President of India, this man owns race horses, this is the Ambassador of Colombia, this man owns Indian Airlines. Oh, and that house right on the other side of the wall from the tennis courts, that’s where the Prime Minister lives. No big deal. We had a good time, enjoying our first cocktails since we’ve been in India (and came to find that our tolerance has diminished quite a bit…) and eating lots of good food. There’s usually live music on Saturday nights, but apparently a long-time club member died that day, so in his honor, things stayed on the quiet side. It’s too bad…I would have loved to see Prem get down on the dance floor.
Work last week was much more ad hoc than it’s been, and things are now shifting to more time spent at the computer than in the field. We’ve had an interesting run with the facilities. I feel like we’ve gotten a pretty good range, in terms of the kinds of facilities and services available to these two communities. We’ve seen everything from a “health van,” giving medicines and vaccines out the back of a jeep, to local one-room clinics, to holistic medical research institutes complete with saunas and steam baths. Some of our target facilities have been surprisingly hard to locate – we drove around for about an hour last week, asking people all over the place where this certain hospital was, only to find, after being pointed in all directions, the “government hospital” we were expecting was really a much smaller private clinic with a completely different name. It was very indicative of the amount of community awareness, in terms of facilities, their names, and who actually operates them. The health van was also hard to find, no one we asked knowing exactly who operated it or where exactly it came to. We were told it was run by some NGO and came every week to Jasola, but not even the staff at the JMC knew of it. Finally, we figured out that it is actually a government service and comes three days a week, parking right across the street from the GRC…granted, hidden behind a Hindu temple, but nonetheless, right under our noses. This is the recurring problem in development – the right hand knows not what the left hand is doing, and then you just have a fumbling, confused, ineffective mess.
This week we’ll hopefully get to visit the big guys – the All-India Institute of Medical Sciences (the government hospital) and the great Apollo Hospital. We will have the boss lady herself with us, so hopefully it will go well. For the most part, our interviews have been well-received and informative. Our last one, however, ended with the doctor asking us why we had just wasted so much of her time with our questions that will bring her nothing. It caught us all a bit off-guard, including poor Charu, who always bears the brunt of it. We mumbled some explanations of what we hope to come out of this, thanking her profusely for her time. She was not impressed, however, and we scurried apologetically out of her office as she called the next patient in. You win some, you lose some, I guess.
Now we are hard at work preparing our presentation for the Delhi government, which is a week from tomorrow. I’m a little nervous for that...I hope it’s well-received and doesn’t come off as preachy or accusatory. We have Vimala working with us, though, so I know I don’t have to worry.
This weekend was well-spent, taking advantage of what Delhi has to offer and checking some things off our “To Do/See” list. Thursday night, Sarah and I went to Nizamuddin’s Tomb for the qawwali music – every week, a group of men sing their hearts out in prayer at the mosque. It is a beautiful thing to experience, and we were really welcomed in by the people there, invited to not just witness it, but to be a part of it. We stood at first on the edge of the crowd, as usual trying to be as inconspicuous as possible (and as usual, unsuccessful despite our best efforts), but we were soon nudged and then dragged up to the front by one very emphatic woman. And despite all the eyes and the camera phone shots, I felt welcomed there. I was relieved that we managed not to commit any taboos or seriously offend anyone…there were, thankfully, signs to help us out (“No uncovered heads beyond this point” and “Ladies not permitted inside temple”) and a few people watching out for us, as well.
Saturday, we had a much more peaceful spiritual experience, sitting in the mandatory silence of Delhi’s Lotus Temple – the Baha’i temple shaped like a giant, unfolding lotus flower. It’s made of white marble and is full of light, shining in through the many windows and streaming down through the petal openings above. It is a very impressive, comforting structure, much like the Baha’i faith itself. It’s a very accepting religion, believing in the unity of all religions and the unity of humankind. It welcomes and invites people of all faiths, it declares equality between men and women, and interestingly, it stresses the need for accordance between religion and science – because without science, religion is just superstition, and without religion, science is immoral and materialistic. I like that. Bahai's are also very involved in development projects around the world. They consider development work an act of worship in itself. I really like that.
Saturday night, Prem and Abha invited the three of us to go with them to their Club. It’s a very prestigious club – it’s where all the big wigs hang out, and there is a 40-year waiting list to be a member! So, we felt honored to be their guests and get to rub elbows with Delhi high society. Prem and Abha are so cute. Prem, being retired, hangs out there all the time, swimming in the pool and socializing at the bar. He seems to know everyone – oh, this is the Electoral Chief for the President of India, this man owns race horses, this is the Ambassador of Colombia, this man owns Indian Airlines. Oh, and that house right on the other side of the wall from the tennis courts, that’s where the Prime Minister lives. No big deal. We had a good time, enjoying our first cocktails since we’ve been in India (and came to find that our tolerance has diminished quite a bit…) and eating lots of good food. There’s usually live music on Saturday nights, but apparently a long-time club member died that day, so in his honor, things stayed on the quiet side. It’s too bad…I would have loved to see Prem get down on the dance floor.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Retreat to Rishikesh
The rest of last week moved pretty slowly. Monday, we met with Vimala to plan and finish writing our facilities survey, I stayed home on Tuesday, recovering from a cold, and Wednesday we finished up our interviews with the RMPs (Residential Medical Practitioners – those “local doctors” that everyone goes to, who are really just playing doctor, but without whom there would be nothing, so who can complain?). With our next steps being contingent upon other people’s schedules, there wasn’t really anything left for us to do. And there was a 5:30 train Thursday morning to Rishikesh…so, we took it.
It was an adventure, as any impromptu getaway should be (we literally decided to go at 11:30 Wednesday night…5 hours before we had to leave). After guiltily waking up Prem to get the taxi driver’s phone number and tell him we were leaving, we threw our stuff together, slept two hours, and headed to the train station without actually knowing if we would be able to get on the train. We had been right in the middle of booking our tickets on the slowest, earliest train (the only one still available) when the India Railway website closed down for the night. But we figured if we couldn’t book tickets, neither could anyone else, so we’d just show up at the station booking office in the morning and hope for the best. It turned out just fine, and seven hours later, we arrived in Haridwar – “the Gates of God,” where the foothills of the Himalayas meet the great and holy River Ganges.
After an impressively inconvenient and confusing process of booking our tickets back to Delhi (an hour of being jockeyed from line to line for this form and that, literally fighting to keep our place, and then still only ending up with one confirmed seat on the train…the booking officer told us that he’d pray for the other two of us to get a seat), we headed for the green, serene hills of Rishikesh – yoga retreat capital of the world.
The Beatles came to Rishikesh during their heyday and helped put it on the map as the place to go to practice yoga and meditation with the masters. Today, it’s full of ashrams, yoga schools, Ayurvedic massage parlors, and guest houses, and it’s generally known for its peace and quiet. As luck would have it, we picked the wrong month for that.
This is the month of Shiva, and Rishikesh just happens to be a major pilgrimage site for hundreds and hundreds of Hindus, coming to honor Lord Shiva and be blessed by the Ganges. The kaniwaris, as they’re called, come in an endless stream, groups of men walking or running together, many without shoes, all wearing orange and carrying water containers to fill with river water and take back to their families. There are some children and some women, but mostly it is men. They travel long distances, from all over India, sleeping and eating on the sides of the road – you see them everywhere as you drive from Haridwar to Rishikesh – in devotion to Shiva.
It was absolutely insane – with all those people, getting anywhere took an exerted determination, and as three white girls among all those men, it also took a tremendous amount of fortitude at times. There were some unpleasant encounters and it was generally exhausting just dealing with it all. It was, however, also an incredible thing to witness and I feel really lucky to have been there to see it.
We did try to relax as much as possible, though, enjoying the quiet of our little enclave of guest houses on the hill. We would spend part of the day in town, watching the river of orange flow to the Ganges from the coffee shop and then wandering around in it, shopping for souvenirs, crossing the long bridges, dodging people, mopeds, cows, monkeys, and cameras (there were a lot of photo requests, and far more stolen shots, this weekend). Then we would retreat to the hill to read, nap, and enjoy the gorgeous view. We treated ourselves to Ayurvedic massage, freshly baked pastries, and as many mango lassis and lemon-mint drinks as we could handle. And, of course, you can't go to Rishikesh without doing yoga. It was just what the soul needs.
Two nights, we went down to the river for the aarti – the evening worship at the temple. It was beautiful, with all the candles, drums, and chanting, facing the river all lit up by the sunset, a shining statue of Shiva, and the glow of flower boat prayers floating past. We bought one to send down the river…we fumbled with it and probably didn’t go through the motions right, but people seemed pleased that we were participating. And then we put our feet in the great Ganges, erasing 100 lives from our karmic record, just like that. Not a bad deal. It was my favorite part of the day. I would go every night of my life if I could.
By Sunday, we were both sad to leave and anxious to get home. It really was an incredible weekend, refreshing and draining in equal parts. I would love to come back some day…just not in July. The trip home was a bit stressful. We were already concerned about our “unconfirmed” seats on the train, and then became more concerned about even making the train when we learned of the massive traffic jams that were happening everywhere. The man who arranged our taxi advised that we leave extra early and pay an additional 100 rupees (to pay off the police) to take a “special” road around the traffic jams. We never saw any money handoff to any police, but our driver got us there safely and in good time. He did drop us off in the middle of a bridge, however, amidst the river of people, telling us we would have to walk another 15 minutes to the station. It was brutally hot, but we made it there with time to spare – and Ganesha was on our side because we got our seats on the train with relatively little fuss.
All in all, a very memorable getaway. Long live spontaneity.
It was an adventure, as any impromptu getaway should be (we literally decided to go at 11:30 Wednesday night…5 hours before we had to leave). After guiltily waking up Prem to get the taxi driver’s phone number and tell him we were leaving, we threw our stuff together, slept two hours, and headed to the train station without actually knowing if we would be able to get on the train. We had been right in the middle of booking our tickets on the slowest, earliest train (the only one still available) when the India Railway website closed down for the night. But we figured if we couldn’t book tickets, neither could anyone else, so we’d just show up at the station booking office in the morning and hope for the best. It turned out just fine, and seven hours later, we arrived in Haridwar – “the Gates of God,” where the foothills of the Himalayas meet the great and holy River Ganges.
After an impressively inconvenient and confusing process of booking our tickets back to Delhi (an hour of being jockeyed from line to line for this form and that, literally fighting to keep our place, and then still only ending up with one confirmed seat on the train…the booking officer told us that he’d pray for the other two of us to get a seat), we headed for the green, serene hills of Rishikesh – yoga retreat capital of the world.
The Beatles came to Rishikesh during their heyday and helped put it on the map as the place to go to practice yoga and meditation with the masters. Today, it’s full of ashrams, yoga schools, Ayurvedic massage parlors, and guest houses, and it’s generally known for its peace and quiet. As luck would have it, we picked the wrong month for that.
This is the month of Shiva, and Rishikesh just happens to be a major pilgrimage site for hundreds and hundreds of Hindus, coming to honor Lord Shiva and be blessed by the Ganges. The kaniwaris, as they’re called, come in an endless stream, groups of men walking or running together, many without shoes, all wearing orange and carrying water containers to fill with river water and take back to their families. There are some children and some women, but mostly it is men. They travel long distances, from all over India, sleeping and eating on the sides of the road – you see them everywhere as you drive from Haridwar to Rishikesh – in devotion to Shiva.
It was absolutely insane – with all those people, getting anywhere took an exerted determination, and as three white girls among all those men, it also took a tremendous amount of fortitude at times. There were some unpleasant encounters and it was generally exhausting just dealing with it all. It was, however, also an incredible thing to witness and I feel really lucky to have been there to see it.
We did try to relax as much as possible, though, enjoying the quiet of our little enclave of guest houses on the hill. We would spend part of the day in town, watching the river of orange flow to the Ganges from the coffee shop and then wandering around in it, shopping for souvenirs, crossing the long bridges, dodging people, mopeds, cows, monkeys, and cameras (there were a lot of photo requests, and far more stolen shots, this weekend). Then we would retreat to the hill to read, nap, and enjoy the gorgeous view. We treated ourselves to Ayurvedic massage, freshly baked pastries, and as many mango lassis and lemon-mint drinks as we could handle. And, of course, you can't go to Rishikesh without doing yoga. It was just what the soul needs.
Two nights, we went down to the river for the aarti – the evening worship at the temple. It was beautiful, with all the candles, drums, and chanting, facing the river all lit up by the sunset, a shining statue of Shiva, and the glow of flower boat prayers floating past. We bought one to send down the river…we fumbled with it and probably didn’t go through the motions right, but people seemed pleased that we were participating. And then we put our feet in the great Ganges, erasing 100 lives from our karmic record, just like that. Not a bad deal. It was my favorite part of the day. I would go every night of my life if I could.
By Sunday, we were both sad to leave and anxious to get home. It really was an incredible weekend, refreshing and draining in equal parts. I would love to come back some day…just not in July. The trip home was a bit stressful. We were already concerned about our “unconfirmed” seats on the train, and then became more concerned about even making the train when we learned of the massive traffic jams that were happening everywhere. The man who arranged our taxi advised that we leave extra early and pay an additional 100 rupees (to pay off the police) to take a “special” road around the traffic jams. We never saw any money handoff to any police, but our driver got us there safely and in good time. He did drop us off in the middle of a bridge, however, amidst the river of people, telling us we would have to walk another 15 minutes to the station. It was brutally hot, but we made it there with time to spare – and Ganesha was on our side because we got our seats on the train with relatively little fuss.
All in all, a very memorable getaway. Long live spontaneity.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Taj Mahal
Early Saturday morning, we headed to Agra, once the capital of the Mughal empire and home to one of the Wonders of the World: the Taj Mahal. The train ride, only about 3 hours from Delhi, wasn’t quite the exciting experience I had built up in my mind, but it wasn’t bad either. We were met at the train station in Agra by Malik, a rickshaw driver our hotel had sent for us. He was a friendly character and insisted that we read his book of comments and recommendations from travelers past who have used his services. They were all positive, saying “Malik is your man” and “you can trust this guy,” so we decided to hire him as our driver for the weekend. It turned out to be a pretty good deal, I think, and while some parts were annoying (like taking us to all his friends’ shops), other parts made it all worthwhile. He wasn’t pushy and we didn’t have to haggle with rickshaw drivers all weekend, which alone was worth the money to me.
After getting checked in to the Hotel Kamal (not great, but a decent place with a view of the Taj from the roof), we were taken to a restaurant for lunch – and it’s apparently where all the white people are taken. It wasn’t great food and it was expensive, but we let it slide. We were off to the Red Fort. The Red Fort is where Shah Jahan lived with his wives and harem and it looks out across the Yamuna river (very dry this time of year) at the Taj Mahal – the great marble palace that he built in honor of his most beloved wife, after she died giving birth to their 14th child. After one of his son’s usurped the throne, Shah Jahan was imprisoned in the Red Fort, staring wistfully, the story goes, at the Taj until the end of his days. It’s a pretty impressive fort, the outside red sandstone once covered in blue and white tiles, and the inside beautiful marble rooms and archways. We spent a good couple hours wandering around it, and then went straight out to where Malik was patiently waiting for us.
From there, Malik took us to another old tomb that belonged to one of Shah Jahan’s right hand men. It was cool, all crumbling and old, but we were hounded by young boys asking for pictures and kisses, among other things, so we didn’t stay long. After a brief stop at the “Baby Taj” (we decided it wasn’t worth the 100 rupees to go in), and giving Sarah and Colette a rickshaw driving lesson, Malik took us to the place that made the day: a sandy bank across the dried up river that stares at the backside of the Taj Mahal. It was a great view, and mostly pretty peaceful. We sat there for a long time, just gazing across at it. The intent was for us to be there for the sunset, but we got there too early and by 5:30 we had decided that sunset on the rooftop with beer sounded much better than waiting 2 more hours, thirsty on the dusty bank. So, after giving us a hard time (Malik himself is not a drinker), he took us to the beer shop and then a rooftop restaurant a few doors down from our hotel. In Agra, most places don’t serve alcohol, but some places allow you to buy your own and bring it in, as long as you’re discrete. So, we spent our evening raising glasses of King Fisher beer to the Taj, as it faded to an outline on the darkening horizon. We shared our table with a lone traveler from England, Martin, who ended up being quite entertaining. We bantered over colonial legacies, current politics, and pop culture. If only it had not been so horribly humid, it would have been a perfect evening.
We got up at 5:30 the next morning to visit the Taj in the magic of its morning light. We missed sunrise, but it was still early enough to be relatively cool and substantially less crowded – definitely worth the little sleep. The Taj Mahal is absolutely amazing. It's the kind of place that leaves a deep impression on you. There’s really nothing I can write that will match being there, no description will do it justice. But I will try.
First of all, to all you women, embittered and disillusioned by love – make a pilgrimage to the Taj Mahal. It just might restore your faith in love. This magnificent monument, for all the talk about it being some grand, megalomaniacal exaltation, was built as a tribute to the woman he loved. It took 17 years and some 20,000 men to complete it, bringing in marble, precious stones, and expert stone carvers from all over the world. It is breathtakingly gorgeous, the white marble illuminated against the blue sky, with Qur’anic scriptures beautifully carved around the doorways and arches, and floral patterns of precious stone all over it. The inside, though, which houses Mumtaz Mahal’s tomb, is enough to bring you to tears. Her tomb, with Shah Jahan’s right next to it (the only asymmetrical part of the entire thing), is surrounded by a marble gazebo-like room, covered in flowers etched into the marble and inlayed with colorful mosaics of precious stone. At sunrise, the light shows through the marble and stone to make the entire palace glow. It is incredible. The place has been remarkably well-preserved and it’s hard to imagine how beautiful it must have been 370 years ago. We sat under its arches for a long time, watching the people as they came through, catching bits of conversations here and there about love. I could have sat there all day long, basking in its beauty and the love it exudes. It is, by far, one of the most amazing sights I’ve ever seen.
Since nothing could possibly top the Taj, we pretty much let Malik drag us around where he would the rest of the day – a marble carving demonstration (and shop), a Persian rug weaving demonstration (and shop), and a gem store with gorgeous jewelry. They were all very impressive, but mostly things we could not afford. He wanted to take us to a leather shop and a clothing shop, as well, but by that time, we were done and just wanted to get back to the rooftop to spend our last few hours staring at the Taj. Unfortunately, the heat on the rooftop was a little more than we could bear, so instead we opted to sip a little bit of luxury, in the air conditioned, regal bar that overlooks the Taj at the Oberoy Hotel. I felt like a muskrat in there, all sweaty and disheveled, and I’m sure they loved that all we ordered were mango lassis (which were almost 4 times what we would normally pay; everything else was too expensive) and ate the free peanuts. But, it was a nice little reprieve, before we headed for the train station and back to work in the slums. I would never pay $700 to stay in such a place, but I will say it was refreshing – just using their bathroom made me feel like a brand new person.
I think the lack of sleep Saturday night pushed my body over the edge, and on the train ride back to Delhi I could feel myself succumbing to full-blown head cold. The train staff barging in every 20 minutes to leer at us and fold blankets, like our compartment was their work place and we were in their way, kept the ride from being the least bit restful and I couldn’t wait to get home. It was a great trip, though – it just felt good to get out of town for the weekend and see somewhere else, and that is a place that will remain in my heart forever.
After getting checked in to the Hotel Kamal (not great, but a decent place with a view of the Taj from the roof), we were taken to a restaurant for lunch – and it’s apparently where all the white people are taken. It wasn’t great food and it was expensive, but we let it slide. We were off to the Red Fort. The Red Fort is where Shah Jahan lived with his wives and harem and it looks out across the Yamuna river (very dry this time of year) at the Taj Mahal – the great marble palace that he built in honor of his most beloved wife, after she died giving birth to their 14th child. After one of his son’s usurped the throne, Shah Jahan was imprisoned in the Red Fort, staring wistfully, the story goes, at the Taj until the end of his days. It’s a pretty impressive fort, the outside red sandstone once covered in blue and white tiles, and the inside beautiful marble rooms and archways. We spent a good couple hours wandering around it, and then went straight out to where Malik was patiently waiting for us.
From there, Malik took us to another old tomb that belonged to one of Shah Jahan’s right hand men. It was cool, all crumbling and old, but we were hounded by young boys asking for pictures and kisses, among other things, so we didn’t stay long. After a brief stop at the “Baby Taj” (we decided it wasn’t worth the 100 rupees to go in), and giving Sarah and Colette a rickshaw driving lesson, Malik took us to the place that made the day: a sandy bank across the dried up river that stares at the backside of the Taj Mahal. It was a great view, and mostly pretty peaceful. We sat there for a long time, just gazing across at it. The intent was for us to be there for the sunset, but we got there too early and by 5:30 we had decided that sunset on the rooftop with beer sounded much better than waiting 2 more hours, thirsty on the dusty bank. So, after giving us a hard time (Malik himself is not a drinker), he took us to the beer shop and then a rooftop restaurant a few doors down from our hotel. In Agra, most places don’t serve alcohol, but some places allow you to buy your own and bring it in, as long as you’re discrete. So, we spent our evening raising glasses of King Fisher beer to the Taj, as it faded to an outline on the darkening horizon. We shared our table with a lone traveler from England, Martin, who ended up being quite entertaining. We bantered over colonial legacies, current politics, and pop culture. If only it had not been so horribly humid, it would have been a perfect evening.
We got up at 5:30 the next morning to visit the Taj in the magic of its morning light. We missed sunrise, but it was still early enough to be relatively cool and substantially less crowded – definitely worth the little sleep. The Taj Mahal is absolutely amazing. It's the kind of place that leaves a deep impression on you. There’s really nothing I can write that will match being there, no description will do it justice. But I will try.
First of all, to all you women, embittered and disillusioned by love – make a pilgrimage to the Taj Mahal. It just might restore your faith in love. This magnificent monument, for all the talk about it being some grand, megalomaniacal exaltation, was built as a tribute to the woman he loved. It took 17 years and some 20,000 men to complete it, bringing in marble, precious stones, and expert stone carvers from all over the world. It is breathtakingly gorgeous, the white marble illuminated against the blue sky, with Qur’anic scriptures beautifully carved around the doorways and arches, and floral patterns of precious stone all over it. The inside, though, which houses Mumtaz Mahal’s tomb, is enough to bring you to tears. Her tomb, with Shah Jahan’s right next to it (the only asymmetrical part of the entire thing), is surrounded by a marble gazebo-like room, covered in flowers etched into the marble and inlayed with colorful mosaics of precious stone. At sunrise, the light shows through the marble and stone to make the entire palace glow. It is incredible. The place has been remarkably well-preserved and it’s hard to imagine how beautiful it must have been 370 years ago. We sat under its arches for a long time, watching the people as they came through, catching bits of conversations here and there about love. I could have sat there all day long, basking in its beauty and the love it exudes. It is, by far, one of the most amazing sights I’ve ever seen.
Since nothing could possibly top the Taj, we pretty much let Malik drag us around where he would the rest of the day – a marble carving demonstration (and shop), a Persian rug weaving demonstration (and shop), and a gem store with gorgeous jewelry. They were all very impressive, but mostly things we could not afford. He wanted to take us to a leather shop and a clothing shop, as well, but by that time, we were done and just wanted to get back to the rooftop to spend our last few hours staring at the Taj. Unfortunately, the heat on the rooftop was a little more than we could bear, so instead we opted to sip a little bit of luxury, in the air conditioned, regal bar that overlooks the Taj at the Oberoy Hotel. I felt like a muskrat in there, all sweaty and disheveled, and I’m sure they loved that all we ordered were mango lassis (which were almost 4 times what we would normally pay; everything else was too expensive) and ate the free peanuts. But, it was a nice little reprieve, before we headed for the train station and back to work in the slums. I would never pay $700 to stay in such a place, but I will say it was refreshing – just using their bathroom made me feel like a brand new person.
I think the lack of sleep Saturday night pushed my body over the edge, and on the train ride back to Delhi I could feel myself succumbing to full-blown head cold. The train staff barging in every 20 minutes to leer at us and fold blankets, like our compartment was their work place and we were in their way, kept the ride from being the least bit restful and I couldn’t wait to get home. It was a great trip, though – it just felt good to get out of town for the weekend and see somewhere else, and that is a place that will remain in my heart forever.
Phase 2: Completed
Last Thursday, we were able to finish up all 30 Maternal and Child Health surveys. The thought of having to spend another day, wandering around the maze that is Abul Fazal trying to find people in this heat, was enough to inspire maximum efficiency and determination to knock those 15 out in two days, rather than three. Jasola, the other area we’re surveying, is not as bad. It’s the same area as the GRC office, so everything is in walking distance. Abul Fazal, however, is across the road and for some reason getting a rickshaw over there is a perplexingly difficult process. The auto rickshaws want to charge way too much for simply crossing the road, and the bicycle rickshaws will sometimes refuse altogether. Not that I really blame them – taking a bicycle rickshaw is absolutely my least favorite thing to make someone do for me, especially in 100+ degree weather – but, it’s so frustrating and it wastes a lot of our time. And at the end of the day, especially, when we’re hot and tired and just want to go home, having to haggle with rickshaw drivers is infuriating. It definitely brings out the worst in me. I want to throttle them. We’re standing there, melting in the sun, thirsty and clearly worn out, and they're trying to take advantage of it. It’s the part of my day that I truly hate.
So, we started early and finished later than usual, but we got them done. Mitlesh had to leave us early on Thursday, too, so that was also a strong incentive to get it done. She has really been invaluable. Charu is great, but she’s very polite and reserved and she’ll take a lot of sh** from people. Not Mitlesh – she’s pushy and she’ll get in your face. She would just barge right in to people’s homes, open the door herself if no one answered and walk right in. She protected us from many a drunkard, shooing them away and even yelling at them if she had to – one man actually grabbed my clipboard out of my hands one time, demanding to see it, and boy, did she set him straight. She took good care of us. I don’t think we’ll be working with her from here on out, so it was sad to see her go. She asked to get some pictures with us, and then blew us kisses as she walked away. What a woman. I want her to be my sister or something.
We celebrated our accomplishment that night in typical fashion, with a Sizzler (a sizzling hot plate of grilled chicken, veggies, and fries) and some Cocoberry frozen yogurt. It was well-earned this time.
Friday, we spent the day working at Mrs. Kaur’s (our breakfast café, which also has free wi-fi), developing our facilities survey and deciding which facilities to target. It was a good planning day, and it was nice to just take it easy, especially since I was feeling a cold coming on. And we had a big weekend ahead of us.
The weekend started with a birthday dinner for Viddhi, Charu's 2-year-old daughter. We were once again sufficiently stuffed to the bursting point with food and sweets by the persistent and gracious Charu. We had a blast with Viddhi. She started out a little shy, but as soon as we brought out the birthday presents (banana chips, nuts, and raisins – her favorite), she started to warm up, and by the end of the night, she was climbing all over us. She was on a major sugar high – we started the evening with birthday cake, and Indian cake involves mostly frosting. She was hilarious, bouncing all over the place, laughing and screeching at everything, and making quite a game of stealing my camera case. At one point she was wearing her teddy bear’s clothes, and then she gave Colette and me a Hindi lesson on her chalkboard. We went home with aching tummies, but we had a lot of fun. We’ve been invited back over in August to celebrate Rakhi, the Hindu festival honoring siblings. Sisters tie bracelets on their brothers’ wrists and give them blessings, in exchange for their brothers’ protection. There aren’t any brothers around, but Charu says we can borrow hers. It's always nice to be welcomed in as part of a family. It was a great beginning to an awesome weekend.
So, we started early and finished later than usual, but we got them done. Mitlesh had to leave us early on Thursday, too, so that was also a strong incentive to get it done. She has really been invaluable. Charu is great, but she’s very polite and reserved and she’ll take a lot of sh** from people. Not Mitlesh – she’s pushy and she’ll get in your face. She would just barge right in to people’s homes, open the door herself if no one answered and walk right in. She protected us from many a drunkard, shooing them away and even yelling at them if she had to – one man actually grabbed my clipboard out of my hands one time, demanding to see it, and boy, did she set him straight. She took good care of us. I don’t think we’ll be working with her from here on out, so it was sad to see her go. She asked to get some pictures with us, and then blew us kisses as she walked away. What a woman. I want her to be my sister or something.
We celebrated our accomplishment that night in typical fashion, with a Sizzler (a sizzling hot plate of grilled chicken, veggies, and fries) and some Cocoberry frozen yogurt. It was well-earned this time.
Friday, we spent the day working at Mrs. Kaur’s (our breakfast café, which also has free wi-fi), developing our facilities survey and deciding which facilities to target. It was a good planning day, and it was nice to just take it easy, especially since I was feeling a cold coming on. And we had a big weekend ahead of us.
The weekend started with a birthday dinner for Viddhi, Charu's 2-year-old daughter. We were once again sufficiently stuffed to the bursting point with food and sweets by the persistent and gracious Charu. We had a blast with Viddhi. She started out a little shy, but as soon as we brought out the birthday presents (banana chips, nuts, and raisins – her favorite), she started to warm up, and by the end of the night, she was climbing all over us. She was on a major sugar high – we started the evening with birthday cake, and Indian cake involves mostly frosting. She was hilarious, bouncing all over the place, laughing and screeching at everything, and making quite a game of stealing my camera case. At one point she was wearing her teddy bear’s clothes, and then she gave Colette and me a Hindi lesson on her chalkboard. We went home with aching tummies, but we had a lot of fun. We’ve been invited back over in August to celebrate Rakhi, the Hindu festival honoring siblings. Sisters tie bracelets on their brothers’ wrists and give them blessings, in exchange for their brothers’ protection. There aren’t any brothers around, but Charu says we can borrow hers. It's always nice to be welcomed in as part of a family. It was a great beginning to an awesome weekend.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
The Slum
The slum is a hard, draining place to work. I love the work we’re doing, but I must admit, I don’t look forward to going there every day, and usually I can’t wait to be done. It’s a maze of trash, open sewers, filthy dogs, tattered clothes, and hard, weathered faces. The flies are almost unbearable in some places, and it’s hard not to lose it when they’re going from raw sewage in the gutter, to a pile of cow dung on the road, to your face. The stench is so strong sometimes that it almost knocks you back. Especially in this heat and humidity, it’s more than unpleasant. At the end of the day, we come home to our air conditioned flat and go immediately to the bathroom to scrub the slum from our skin. There are some things, though, that don’t just wash off.
Like the little girl today, malnourished and covered in flies, with a mother who didn’t know how old she was, how old her kids were, whether or not they’d been immunized, and who doesn’t take them to the doctor – ever – because she’s afraid of it. During the interview, Charu turned to us and said, “It’s a terrible situation. These children have no reason to be alive, it’s only that they happened to be born. The mother knows nothing at all and doesn’t even concern herself with them. What are they to do?” Or the 12 year-old boy the other day with sores all over his legs and arms, being grazed constantly by flies, carrying around his baby brother. Or the little girl tidying up a pile of rusty nails, or the toddler in the doorway playing with a kitchen knife. Or the group of children we saw yesterday, playing and cooling off in the open drain. And the group of 40 people who have to stand in line every morning to use the single toilet they share, or the woman who only goes to the bathroom once a day, when it’s dark, because that’s when it is safest for her in the open field they use. And the man who has had diarrhea for months and doesn’t know how to read the instructions on the pills and ORS packet he got from the clinic. And the wives who don’t want to have any more children, but who know (and tell us, with a bashful smile) that it’s not their decision at all. We can scrub the dirt and stink and filth off our bodies, but this part of the slum stays with us. For this part, I go to the gym…though the treadmill is a fitting metaphor for how fruitless that escape attempt can be.
In one area we visit, the slum owner – a man they call “The Don” – lives in a huge, beautiful house with balconied windows overlooking his land. This man looks out his windows every day and sees people living this way. And he does nothing to help improve these squalid conditions that he willingly and knowingly rents out. I don’t understand how someone could just allow people to live like this. On the other hand, I suppose, it’s a home. And the conditions, as horrid as they are, are better than some alternatives. At least they have a roof over their heads and a relatively safe place to sleep. At least there’s water and at least there’s electricity. At least here, in the city, they can find work and food. At least they have each other. At least they are still alive. These are the things that show in the smiles that greet us and the faces of the kids who run around us, laughing and playing like things couldn’t be better. It’s not that they don’t know what a better life looks like – they see it looming above them on the other side of the wall. (That is what makes Delhi so different from the slum areas I visited in Tanzania – people could go most of their lives there without ever having to see anything different. But here, it’s right next door.) It just isn’t their reality, and things really could be worse. For some of them, this is the better life.
This is not, of course, an excuse to just shrug our shoulders, throw up our hands, dismissing hard truths as “ignorant bliss” – “Oh, but they look sooo happy” – and say this has nothing to do with us, there’s nothing we can do. Because no one wants to live like this, and no one should have to. It’s something to keep in mind, though, when I feel utterly disgusting at the end of the day – to acknowledge the reality, scrub away what I can, and take in what I can’t, because it’s the stuff that doesn’t wash off that we’re here for.
Like the little girl today, malnourished and covered in flies, with a mother who didn’t know how old she was, how old her kids were, whether or not they’d been immunized, and who doesn’t take them to the doctor – ever – because she’s afraid of it. During the interview, Charu turned to us and said, “It’s a terrible situation. These children have no reason to be alive, it’s only that they happened to be born. The mother knows nothing at all and doesn’t even concern herself with them. What are they to do?” Or the 12 year-old boy the other day with sores all over his legs and arms, being grazed constantly by flies, carrying around his baby brother. Or the little girl tidying up a pile of rusty nails, or the toddler in the doorway playing with a kitchen knife. Or the group of children we saw yesterday, playing and cooling off in the open drain. And the group of 40 people who have to stand in line every morning to use the single toilet they share, or the woman who only goes to the bathroom once a day, when it’s dark, because that’s when it is safest for her in the open field they use. And the man who has had diarrhea for months and doesn’t know how to read the instructions on the pills and ORS packet he got from the clinic. And the wives who don’t want to have any more children, but who know (and tell us, with a bashful smile) that it’s not their decision at all. We can scrub the dirt and stink and filth off our bodies, but this part of the slum stays with us. For this part, I go to the gym…though the treadmill is a fitting metaphor for how fruitless that escape attempt can be.
In one area we visit, the slum owner – a man they call “The Don” – lives in a huge, beautiful house with balconied windows overlooking his land. This man looks out his windows every day and sees people living this way. And he does nothing to help improve these squalid conditions that he willingly and knowingly rents out. I don’t understand how someone could just allow people to live like this. On the other hand, I suppose, it’s a home. And the conditions, as horrid as they are, are better than some alternatives. At least they have a roof over their heads and a relatively safe place to sleep. At least there’s water and at least there’s electricity. At least here, in the city, they can find work and food. At least they have each other. At least they are still alive. These are the things that show in the smiles that greet us and the faces of the kids who run around us, laughing and playing like things couldn’t be better. It’s not that they don’t know what a better life looks like – they see it looming above them on the other side of the wall. (That is what makes Delhi so different from the slum areas I visited in Tanzania – people could go most of their lives there without ever having to see anything different. But here, it’s right next door.) It just isn’t their reality, and things really could be worse. For some of them, this is the better life.
This is not, of course, an excuse to just shrug our shoulders, throw up our hands, dismissing hard truths as “ignorant bliss” – “Oh, but they look sooo happy” – and say this has nothing to do with us, there’s nothing we can do. Because no one wants to live like this, and no one should have to. It’s something to keep in mind, though, when I feel utterly disgusting at the end of the day – to acknowledge the reality, scrub away what I can, and take in what I can’t, because it’s the stuff that doesn’t wash off that we’re here for.
Monday, July 6, 2009
4th of July Weekend
After this weekend, I finally feel like I’ve seen a little bit of Delhi. Colette's friend, Kristen, was visiting from Bubaneshwar (she's interning there), and it was a perfect excuse to go see some of the sights we’ve been meaning to see since we arrived. I’ve decided I’m going to try to see something new every weekend from now on – whether it’s in Delhi or somewhere else. Saturdays will be sight-seeing days, Sundays will be R and R.
Saturday, we slept in a little and then headed to the gym first...which was a good thing because we had found pain au chocolat for breakfast. Then we all headed to Humayun’s Tomb, which was built in the 1570s as a precursor to the Taj Mahal. Humayun’s widow built it for him after he died (he was the main founder of the Mughal Empire) and today it houses over 100 tombs. It was pretty impressive. I can only imagine what it must have looked like when it was built, covered in marble and blue tiles. The grounds are just as Neena described: green, quiet, with relatively few people around. I will definitely have to go back. It’s the perfect place to just sit and read or journal or think – mostly, you are left in peace. Which in Delhi, is something to be treasured.
After the tombs, the four of us took on Delhi’s metro (pretty impressive, extremely crowded) and headed to Old Delhi. Old Delhi is a jumbled mess of old, crumbling buildings, temples, small shops, and people, people everywhere. It was there that I finally felt just how many people are in this city – and this country. They say that 20,000 people migrate to Delhi every single day. Until now, I wasn’t sure where they all were. It’s pretty overwhelming. We meandered through the crowds for a bit trying to find the historic spice market. We didn’t know exactly what we were looking for, though, and after a few dead ends and being purposely given wrong directions (he thought it was pretty funny to direct us down some sketchy alley into a group of curious and amused-looking men eating their lunch), we were about to give up when we noticed a few small stalls selling spices. As we walked further down the road, we finally took notice of what was going on around us. The entire street was full of men hauling huge burlap bags piled high onto trucks, carts, or their heads – spices. All spices. And then there we were, passing stall after stall with mounds of spices, nuts, and dried fruits. You could taste the spices in the air and soon we were all coughing and sneezing and sniffling our way through. By the time we emerged from the spice cloud, we were thirsty, hot, tired, and cranky. We hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast – we didn’t come across anything in Old Delhi that looked safe enough for our wussy angrez bellies – and after being stepped on, bumped into, cut off, and felt up, I was about to start throwing elbows. So, we got ourselves some sodas and bee-lined back to the metro. It was interesting up there in Old Delhi. There were definitely some more things I wanted to see up there, but it’s really hard to take for more than a couple hours. So, maybe I’ll have to brave it again one of these weekends.
The four of us American girls celebrated Independence Day with a delicious dinner at Guladi’s, a restaurant recommended by Abha and Prem (we will have to keep in mind that Abha and Prem apparently have expensive taste). It was a full spread of rice, naan, various rich and spicy chicken dishes (I think Colette won with what turned out to be Butter Chicken…the sauce was good enough to drink), and some adventurous drink choices, one involving spiced buttermilk, and one a concoction of mint, mango, and cumin – none of which we were able to finish. We cleansed our pallets with some gelato and headed home, exhausted.
We had been looking forward to Sunday morning for about a week, ever since we discovered an Early Bird breakfast special (and real coffee) at what is now our favorite café. Waffles, French toast, omlettes, crepes, granola with berries and yogurt, and café lattes. Heaven. Definitely worth waking up early for on a Sunday. Maybe every Sunday. :) After we were thoroughly happy, we headed to Sarojini Market to hit up the first-sale-of-the-day deals. It wasn’t as successful as hoped, but it’s always an entertaining experience. Afterwards, I treated myself to a pedicure at GK-II (another market). It might sound a little lavish, but trust me – after a month of trudging around the slums in sweaty sandals, it was necessary. You gotta take care of your feet, ya know? It was probably the best pedicure I’ve ever had in my life. I kind of want to take that man back home with me. And for under $10, it’s hard to resist.
Kristen headed back to Bubaneshwar in the afternoon, and I spent the rest of the day reading my book. All in all, it was a beautiful weekend.
Saturday, we slept in a little and then headed to the gym first...which was a good thing because we had found pain au chocolat for breakfast. Then we all headed to Humayun’s Tomb, which was built in the 1570s as a precursor to the Taj Mahal. Humayun’s widow built it for him after he died (he was the main founder of the Mughal Empire) and today it houses over 100 tombs. It was pretty impressive. I can only imagine what it must have looked like when it was built, covered in marble and blue tiles. The grounds are just as Neena described: green, quiet, with relatively few people around. I will definitely have to go back. It’s the perfect place to just sit and read or journal or think – mostly, you are left in peace. Which in Delhi, is something to be treasured.
After the tombs, the four of us took on Delhi’s metro (pretty impressive, extremely crowded) and headed to Old Delhi. Old Delhi is a jumbled mess of old, crumbling buildings, temples, small shops, and people, people everywhere. It was there that I finally felt just how many people are in this city – and this country. They say that 20,000 people migrate to Delhi every single day. Until now, I wasn’t sure where they all were. It’s pretty overwhelming. We meandered through the crowds for a bit trying to find the historic spice market. We didn’t know exactly what we were looking for, though, and after a few dead ends and being purposely given wrong directions (he thought it was pretty funny to direct us down some sketchy alley into a group of curious and amused-looking men eating their lunch), we were about to give up when we noticed a few small stalls selling spices. As we walked further down the road, we finally took notice of what was going on around us. The entire street was full of men hauling huge burlap bags piled high onto trucks, carts, or their heads – spices. All spices. And then there we were, passing stall after stall with mounds of spices, nuts, and dried fruits. You could taste the spices in the air and soon we were all coughing and sneezing and sniffling our way through. By the time we emerged from the spice cloud, we were thirsty, hot, tired, and cranky. We hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast – we didn’t come across anything in Old Delhi that looked safe enough for our wussy angrez bellies – and after being stepped on, bumped into, cut off, and felt up, I was about to start throwing elbows. So, we got ourselves some sodas and bee-lined back to the metro. It was interesting up there in Old Delhi. There were definitely some more things I wanted to see up there, but it’s really hard to take for more than a couple hours. So, maybe I’ll have to brave it again one of these weekends.
The four of us American girls celebrated Independence Day with a delicious dinner at Guladi’s, a restaurant recommended by Abha and Prem (we will have to keep in mind that Abha and Prem apparently have expensive taste). It was a full spread of rice, naan, various rich and spicy chicken dishes (I think Colette won with what turned out to be Butter Chicken…the sauce was good enough to drink), and some adventurous drink choices, one involving spiced buttermilk, and one a concoction of mint, mango, and cumin – none of which we were able to finish. We cleansed our pallets with some gelato and headed home, exhausted.
We had been looking forward to Sunday morning for about a week, ever since we discovered an Early Bird breakfast special (and real coffee) at what is now our favorite café. Waffles, French toast, omlettes, crepes, granola with berries and yogurt, and café lattes. Heaven. Definitely worth waking up early for on a Sunday. Maybe every Sunday. :) After we were thoroughly happy, we headed to Sarojini Market to hit up the first-sale-of-the-day deals. It wasn’t as successful as hoped, but it’s always an entertaining experience. Afterwards, I treated myself to a pedicure at GK-II (another market). It might sound a little lavish, but trust me – after a month of trudging around the slums in sweaty sandals, it was necessary. You gotta take care of your feet, ya know? It was probably the best pedicure I’ve ever had in my life. I kind of want to take that man back home with me. And for under $10, it’s hard to resist.
Kristen headed back to Bubaneshwar in the afternoon, and I spent the rest of the day reading my book. All in all, it was a beautiful weekend.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Survey Snags
Well, we’ve run into some snags with Phase 2 of the surveys, so it’s going to take us a little longer than hoped. We’ve had to revise the survey now several times. We took it out for a test run on Wednesday and it just didn’t work. It wasn’t quite focused enough, it didn’t flow as naturally as we thought, the phrasing in parts was either too direct or too unclear, and we didn’t get the kind of responses we were hoping for. So, it took the rest of Wednesday afternoon and all of today, working with Charu, reviewing other surveys, and some advising from Randall, but it seems to work a lot better now. We tested it again yesterday on some women at the GRC, and things went much smoother. But, here's where the other snag comes in: finding the women we want to survey again. It’s been a concern of mine all along, but we mapped all of these places on the GPS, took notes on the location, recorded house numbers and family names, so you wouldn’t think it would be that hard. But somehow on Wednesday it still turned out to be a muddled mess. Perhaps (hopefully) it was just the area we were in…in other areas, it shouldn’t be quite so hard.
Today, it actually wasn't too bad. We found five of them okay, so I'd say it went well! There was one girl who very clearly did not want to talk with us. She answered the questions, but begrudgingly. At one point she told Charu, “You know, people come through here all the time, asking us questions for their surveys, but they never do anything for us.” We pretty much felt like a**holes after that. And she’s right. I’m sure it happens all the time, and nothing ever changes for them. They never see the benefits of these studies, the improvements or services they promise. We’re just another group of nosy people coming through asking them very personal questions about their lives and all they get from us is a packet of biscuits. We’ll write our reports, make spreadsheets and charts, and present it all to the Delhi government, but who knows if anything will actually come of it.
I’m really looking forward to seeing what we find out, though. Just from the tests and surveys so far, I think there’s going to be quite a variance in experiences, knowledge, and behavior. It's been surprising already. Some women just don't think it's necessary to see the doctor while they're pregnant -- they've had 3 or 4 kids already, they deliver at home, and besides hospitals are expensive. But then the next woman will have gone to the doctor every month during pregnancy, delivered at the hospital, and even has an up-to-date child vaccination card. It's very typical of India, I suppose -- huge contrasts, side by side.
Today, it actually wasn't too bad. We found five of them okay, so I'd say it went well! There was one girl who very clearly did not want to talk with us. She answered the questions, but begrudgingly. At one point she told Charu, “You know, people come through here all the time, asking us questions for their surveys, but they never do anything for us.” We pretty much felt like a**holes after that. And she’s right. I’m sure it happens all the time, and nothing ever changes for them. They never see the benefits of these studies, the improvements or services they promise. We’re just another group of nosy people coming through asking them very personal questions about their lives and all they get from us is a packet of biscuits. We’ll write our reports, make spreadsheets and charts, and present it all to the Delhi government, but who knows if anything will actually come of it.
I’m really looking forward to seeing what we find out, though. Just from the tests and surveys so far, I think there’s going to be quite a variance in experiences, knowledge, and behavior. It's been surprising already. Some women just don't think it's necessary to see the doctor while they're pregnant -- they've had 3 or 4 kids already, they deliver at home, and besides hospitals are expensive. But then the next woman will have gone to the doctor every month during pregnancy, delivered at the hospital, and even has an up-to-date child vaccination card. It's very typical of India, I suppose -- huge contrasts, side by side.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Pride in Delhi
Last night the three of us took part in the Delhi Gay Pride Parade. It was a blast! The thing I appreciate most about Pride parades held true here, as well – the immense joy and lighthearted enthusiasm that comes with being able to express who you are and be proud of it. It’s a beautiful thing to see. In India, homosexuals are, by law, partaking in criminal acts, so although there is an obvious movement, it isn’t openly accepted and many people hide it. Even in the parade, a lot of people wore masks to hide their identity, or to symbolize the fact that India still forces them to do so. There has been talk recently, however, within the Indian government of repealing the law (which has been here since the British put it in place), so there was a lot of celebration. The parade was pretty much left alone by the police and everyone just had a good time, dancing, singing, chanting, blowing whistles, and waving our rainbow flags.
The rain has started to come – a HUGE relief, even if it’s still just a tiny bit – and the intense heat has been traded for intense humidity. I haven’t really decided which is more uncomfortable. The temperature was substantially cooler today, but I was drenched within five minutes out the door this morning. During the parade was even worse – everyone was soaking wet, water constantly streaming down our faces like we were all in some big Gay Pride sauna. But no one seemed to care. We were gay. We were proud. And the rain is coming. :)
We finished our first 100 surveys today! It feels good to be done with that much, even though we have a lot more work to do. Now, I think, we can move on to the more interesting part. Get down and dirty. Tomorrow we will get to spend a glorious air-conditioned day at the office, selecting people from our database to target for our second round, trying to remember where they lived (thank god for GPS!), and refining our survey. We’re going to focus on women who are pregnant or who have young children for a more in-depth maternal and child health survey. I’m excited. Here’s hoping it goes as well as the first round.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Weekend, It Is
I never thought I’d have the problem of a shower not cold enough. I don’t know if perhaps the water is boiling in the pipes or what, but the cold water comes out warm and I want to be bathing in ice cubes. It’s fairly upsetting.
The temperature remains around 112 and it’s not looking like the monsoon’s coming anytime soon. They say it’ll be mid-July at the earliest, and even then, we’re expected to get about 20% less rain than usual. If it cools things off a little, I’ll be happy. It feels hotter every day. Or maybe it just gets hotter earlier. By 9:00 am it’s already well into the 90s. I think our low the other day was 91 degrees. It’s insane.
We have almost finished our first 100 surveys – only 14 left to go! Part of me wants to just power through and get them done tomorrow, but I think the consensus is to finish on Monday. We are beat. This week was surprisingly draining, and each day I seemed to feel worse by the time we were done. I think a restful weekend will do us good, to refresh and perhaps step back and see things more clearly. It’s hard to think straight after standing around in such heat for 3 hours. By the time we’re done, we’re done. I can hardly tell people what my name is, let alone think critically about the work we’re trying to do. The three of us, normally bright, conscientious, meticulous people, fall into a sun-induced stupor by 1:00 and our brains turn to mush. It’s kind of comical, really…would be funnier if we weren’t actually trying to accomplish something meaningful. So, weekend it is.
We’ve been invited over to Charu’s house for lunch tomorrow, which should be fun. I think she’s concerned that we don’t eat enough. She can’t believe we don’t have anyone cooking for us at home. And apparently our daily PBJ doesn’t sound like much. It isn’t, but it’s hard to eat when you’re being roasted alive.
The temperature remains around 112 and it’s not looking like the monsoon’s coming anytime soon. They say it’ll be mid-July at the earliest, and even then, we’re expected to get about 20% less rain than usual. If it cools things off a little, I’ll be happy. It feels hotter every day. Or maybe it just gets hotter earlier. By 9:00 am it’s already well into the 90s. I think our low the other day was 91 degrees. It’s insane.
We have almost finished our first 100 surveys – only 14 left to go! Part of me wants to just power through and get them done tomorrow, but I think the consensus is to finish on Monday. We are beat. This week was surprisingly draining, and each day I seemed to feel worse by the time we were done. I think a restful weekend will do us good, to refresh and perhaps step back and see things more clearly. It’s hard to think straight after standing around in such heat for 3 hours. By the time we’re done, we’re done. I can hardly tell people what my name is, let alone think critically about the work we’re trying to do. The three of us, normally bright, conscientious, meticulous people, fall into a sun-induced stupor by 1:00 and our brains turn to mush. It’s kind of comical, really…would be funnier if we weren’t actually trying to accomplish something meaningful. So, weekend it is.
We’ve been invited over to Charu’s house for lunch tomorrow, which should be fun. I think she’s concerned that we don’t eat enough. She can’t believe we don’t have anyone cooking for us at home. And apparently our daily PBJ doesn’t sound like much. It isn’t, but it’s hard to eat when you’re being roasted alive.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Traffic
I know I’ve mentioned traffic before, but it really deserves its own entry. Especially today.
Riding in Delhi traffic is like being on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, except with a bazillion more obstacles, blasts of 100-degree air, the sound of gratuitous, ear-shattering horns in place of silly music, and no safety bar. Every day is like its own little life-or-death adventure.
Sometimes about half way into the ride it becomes evident that the driver has no idea where he’s going. Colette has had to direct on several occasions already…thank god she knows where she’s going. The quality of rickshaws also varies tremendously, from clean and shiny complete with hanging handles, to pretty near falling apart. It’s really a crap-shoot. You just say a little prayer and hope for the best. We haven’t run out of gas or had any wheels fly off yet, so I think we’re doing pretty well so far.
We also haven’t hit anyone yet, which I think is a minor miracle. The way these drivers weave in between cars and mopeds and buses and other rickshaws, while managing to avoid the pedestrians that fearlessly dash out into the road – and let’s not forget the cows! – is truly incredible. If not for the recklessness of it all, I would actually be impressed by their skills. And from what I hear, you do not want to be involved in an accident in India. It seems to be pretty well-understood that if you are, especially if someone gets injured or killed, you flee the scene as soon as possible (hopefully to the nearest police station), or face the mob. The person at fault will often be seriously beaten by a crowd of angry onlookers, sometimes even killed. That’s definitely something I hope to never witness.
Sitting at a traffic light, people will often come up trying to sell slices of coconut, books, strings of jasmine, or beg for money. Today, a man approached our rickshaw holding a small child. We immediately noticed the child’s hand, wrapped in gauze soaked with blood that still ran down the child’s fingers. His wound was seriously infected – a burn, maybe a dog bite. The kid was limp in the man’s arms and his head was oddly wrapped up in a handkerchief, so it was unclear whether he was even still alive. Maybe he was just in shock. With a wound like that, the child should have been screaming. The man waved the kid’s bloody hand at us, then gestured that he wanted money. The three of us just sat there, in horror. What the hell do you do? Vomit? Cry? Pull the man into the rickshaw and take the kid to the hospital? We just sat there. Finally, Colette pleaded, “Bhaiyaa, bas!” – Brother, enough. And the light turned, and we drove away.
It was a hard ride home.
Riding in Delhi traffic is like being on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, except with a bazillion more obstacles, blasts of 100-degree air, the sound of gratuitous, ear-shattering horns in place of silly music, and no safety bar. Every day is like its own little life-or-death adventure.
Sometimes about half way into the ride it becomes evident that the driver has no idea where he’s going. Colette has had to direct on several occasions already…thank god she knows where she’s going. The quality of rickshaws also varies tremendously, from clean and shiny complete with hanging handles, to pretty near falling apart. It’s really a crap-shoot. You just say a little prayer and hope for the best. We haven’t run out of gas or had any wheels fly off yet, so I think we’re doing pretty well so far.
We also haven’t hit anyone yet, which I think is a minor miracle. The way these drivers weave in between cars and mopeds and buses and other rickshaws, while managing to avoid the pedestrians that fearlessly dash out into the road – and let’s not forget the cows! – is truly incredible. If not for the recklessness of it all, I would actually be impressed by their skills. And from what I hear, you do not want to be involved in an accident in India. It seems to be pretty well-understood that if you are, especially if someone gets injured or killed, you flee the scene as soon as possible (hopefully to the nearest police station), or face the mob. The person at fault will often be seriously beaten by a crowd of angry onlookers, sometimes even killed. That’s definitely something I hope to never witness.
Sitting at a traffic light, people will often come up trying to sell slices of coconut, books, strings of jasmine, or beg for money. Today, a man approached our rickshaw holding a small child. We immediately noticed the child’s hand, wrapped in gauze soaked with blood that still ran down the child’s fingers. His wound was seriously infected – a burn, maybe a dog bite. The kid was limp in the man’s arms and his head was oddly wrapped up in a handkerchief, so it was unclear whether he was even still alive. Maybe he was just in shock. With a wound like that, the child should have been screaming. The man waved the kid’s bloody hand at us, then gestured that he wanted money. The three of us just sat there, in horror. What the hell do you do? Vomit? Cry? Pull the man into the rickshaw and take the kid to the hospital? We just sat there. Finally, Colette pleaded, “Bhaiyaa, bas!” – Brother, enough. And the light turned, and we drove away.
It was a hard ride home.
Monday, June 22, 2009
111 Degrees
This weekend was good, equally active and refreshing. Sarah and I ventured out on our own a little, did some sightseeing and improved our haggling skills with the rickshaw drivers. My Hindi vocabularly is growing day by day. We went to India Gate, which was full of Indian families on their Sunday afternoon outing, having picnics and riding in paddle boats on the little pond. From there, we decided to walk up to Parliament, which didn't look that far... of course, in the noon-day 110 degree heat, it felt much farther. But we resisted the calls from numerous rickshaws, that basically followed us the whole way, just in case we might change our minds, and it was actually a nice walk.
There weren't many foreigners out there, so the two of us became the focus of the touts, vendors, beggars, and fellow sightseers. We were asked to be in several people’s pictures, which always cracks me up. Why would you want your family photo at India Gate with some random white girls in it? It’s kind of amusing to think I might end up in some family's photo album. We've also been catching numerous young men taking pictures of us with their camera phones. Some are definitely stealthier than others, but none really seem to care whether we notice -- or like it -- or not. It’s a little unsettling, but I suppose it’s pretty harmless compared to other incidents we’ve been reading about in the Delhi papers. Besides, maybe if they have a picture, they’ll stop staring so much.
Sarah and I met up with Colette later at another market, had some lunch and shopped around for some clothes. The patterns and colors are so beautiful here. I might spend a fortune by the time I leave, just on cloth. Things in Delhi are not turning out to be as cheap as I thought they’d be. In fact, Delhi’s proving to be a relatively expensive place. Prices for a lot of things are comparable to what they’d be at home, maybe just a tiny bit cheaper. I’m going to have to watch my budget a lot more closely than I have been. With food, especially…might have to limit my trips to Cocoberry (our favorite frozen yogurt joint) to once per week.
It reached 111 degrees today. Our first day of surveying went fairly well, considering. We were late getting started because we realized we hadn’t actually made copies of the survey yet (wah wah), so we had to stop off at the JMC first. Then Mitlesh, the one who is accompanying us along with Charu, was late to the GRC, and of course, we had to have chai before venturing out into the heat. So, we didn’t actually head out until after 10:30, and by that time, it had to have already been over 100. But the five of us made a fairly efficient team – Charu translating, Sarah recording the answers, Colette taking down observations about the living conditions, sanitation, etc., myself on the GPS, and Mitlesh keeping our entourage at bay. She is going to be so helpful – built a bit like a linebacker, it’s clear she means business. At one point, a crowd of photo-seeking children was forming and she only had to tell them once, and they were gone. In a little less than 2 hours, we did 10 surveys…which was plenty for the day, as far as we were concerned. We shuffled back to the GRC and downed about 3 liters of water.
Tomorrow, we’ll get an earlier start and hopefully will be able to get closer to 20 before heat stroke sets in. I’m trying to be careful…I had a scary experience with heat exhaustion in Zanzibar (passed out at the dinner table and created quite a scene), and I didn’t even feel it coming. We Scandinavians are not meant for this kind of heat. I literally wilt.
Today also, apparently, was harassment day. For some reason, it was the day for cat calls, crazy old half-dressed men ranting and making kissy face, and for nearly running us over on purpose, more than once, because it’s funny to scare the sh*t out of the white girls. Hot, sweaty, dusty, and sapped of energy, I was not having any of it and had to control my urge to bludgeon somebody with my empty water bottle. I lose all composure when I’m that uncomfortable, it’s really not pretty.
After an afternoon in a/c, a run, a shower, and a delicious dinner, I’m feeling pretty good about the day. Looking forward to getting back out there tomorrow.
There weren't many foreigners out there, so the two of us became the focus of the touts, vendors, beggars, and fellow sightseers. We were asked to be in several people’s pictures, which always cracks me up. Why would you want your family photo at India Gate with some random white girls in it? It’s kind of amusing to think I might end up in some family's photo album. We've also been catching numerous young men taking pictures of us with their camera phones. Some are definitely stealthier than others, but none really seem to care whether we notice -- or like it -- or not. It’s a little unsettling, but I suppose it’s pretty harmless compared to other incidents we’ve been reading about in the Delhi papers. Besides, maybe if they have a picture, they’ll stop staring so much.
Sarah and I met up with Colette later at another market, had some lunch and shopped around for some clothes. The patterns and colors are so beautiful here. I might spend a fortune by the time I leave, just on cloth. Things in Delhi are not turning out to be as cheap as I thought they’d be. In fact, Delhi’s proving to be a relatively expensive place. Prices for a lot of things are comparable to what they’d be at home, maybe just a tiny bit cheaper. I’m going to have to watch my budget a lot more closely than I have been. With food, especially…might have to limit my trips to Cocoberry (our favorite frozen yogurt joint) to once per week.
It reached 111 degrees today. Our first day of surveying went fairly well, considering. We were late getting started because we realized we hadn’t actually made copies of the survey yet (wah wah), so we had to stop off at the JMC first. Then Mitlesh, the one who is accompanying us along with Charu, was late to the GRC, and of course, we had to have chai before venturing out into the heat. So, we didn’t actually head out until after 10:30, and by that time, it had to have already been over 100. But the five of us made a fairly efficient team – Charu translating, Sarah recording the answers, Colette taking down observations about the living conditions, sanitation, etc., myself on the GPS, and Mitlesh keeping our entourage at bay. She is going to be so helpful – built a bit like a linebacker, it’s clear she means business. At one point, a crowd of photo-seeking children was forming and she only had to tell them once, and they were gone. In a little less than 2 hours, we did 10 surveys…which was plenty for the day, as far as we were concerned. We shuffled back to the GRC and downed about 3 liters of water.
Tomorrow, we’ll get an earlier start and hopefully will be able to get closer to 20 before heat stroke sets in. I’m trying to be careful…I had a scary experience with heat exhaustion in Zanzibar (passed out at the dinner table and created quite a scene), and I didn’t even feel it coming. We Scandinavians are not meant for this kind of heat. I literally wilt.
Today also, apparently, was harassment day. For some reason, it was the day for cat calls, crazy old half-dressed men ranting and making kissy face, and for nearly running us over on purpose, more than once, because it’s funny to scare the sh*t out of the white girls. Hot, sweaty, dusty, and sapped of energy, I was not having any of it and had to control my urge to bludgeon somebody with my empty water bottle. I lose all composure when I’m that uncomfortable, it’s really not pretty.
After an afternoon in a/c, a run, a shower, and a delicious dinner, I’m feeling pretty good about the day. Looking forward to getting back out there tomorrow.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Tests and Rest
The weekend is here and we are looking forward to the rest. We have a big week ahead of us. We took our baseline survey for a test run yesterday and, for the most part, we were pleased with how well it went. There were a few things, we discovered, that needed to be added or tweaked, so the test was a wise decision. We, not so wisely, chose the middle of the day to do it, and after only two hours, we were soaked through with sweat and ready to drink almost anything put in front of us. We opted for orange soda – not my usual choice, but it never tasted so good.
We hope to knock out this first round of surveys in 5 or 6 days, doing about 20 per day. We’ll do 100 surveys this first round, just getting baseline information to then do a more intensive survey, focusing more on Maternal and Child Health and health facility utilization. For that one, we’ll do about 30 – at least, that’s our plan for right now. We’ll see how all this goes. Getting 20 surveys done in a morning seems a bit ambitious…especially since the three of us whiteys draw a bit of a crowd, which can turn a simple individual interview into a neighborhood caucus in no time at all. Charu is an excellent translator and already an invaluable part of the team, but she was a bit overwhelmed at times, trying to ask the survey questions, translate the answers and help us understand the bigger picture, and explain to the community members what we were doing snooping around their homes with clipboards and cameras. Next week, we will have another person accompanying us to help with the crowd control and mitigate the chaos.
It will be hard work. Adding to the physical toll the heat and dehydration take on our bodies, the severe and often appalling conditions we come across is emotionally draining, as well. Yesterday, we happened upon a group of families living amongst piles of brick that only 10 days ago were their houses – the police came and destroyed them, saying they were not permitted to live on that property. According to the families, they had been living there for 40 years. Now they have no roofs, no privacy, no dignity. The stream next to their rubble homes is full of suds – runoff from a nearby factory. Stuff like this is hard to just walk away from, knowing you can do nothing about it except take a picture and mark it on a digital map. People at the office give us a hard time about not working Saturdays (at the JMC, everybody works on Saturday), but I think we might need the break to keep us from losing our minds.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Our work is off to a good start, I think. It always takes a little adjusting to the pace of things outside the U.S., to re-invoke that patience so important to getting anything done, anywhere else. “India Time” isn’t quite as lax as “Tanzania Time,” but it definitely requires a go-with-the-flow attitude. We spent yesterday shuffling around in the 102-degree weather, exploring the areas the JMC has identified as highly vulnerable, to get an idea of what we’re dealing with, what the conditions and obvious needs are, and to better determine our target areas. It was an exhausting, but interesting day. We saw a lot, and definitely drew a lot of attention – even as “inconspicuous” as we were, in salwar kameez and head scarves…just trying to blend in. It felt rather intrusive at times, wandering around taking notes and sometimes pictures of people’s homes, usually in pretty awful conditions with open sewage drains running between them or trash heaps outside their doors. Once our Indian counterparts from the GRC (Gender Resource Center, operated by the JMC) explained what we were doing there, the suspicious looks on their faces usually faded to ones of interest, but it still made me uncomfortable. I don’t like making people feel like they’re being studied, especially by outsiders, and I’m realizing that might be difficult for me as we go along. I suppose as long as there’s a greater purpose and benefit of the research – like improving services and people’s access to them – instead of just research for its own sake, I can live with it.
Yesterday was extremely draining and, after we finally summoned the energy to leave our air-conditioned rooms in search of dinner, all three of us were passed out by 10:00. Today, we spent the day inside – a treat for yesterday and the many days in the sun to come. (We read in the paper this morning that the monsoon might be late this year…or not come at all, and that we should expect temperatures in the 40s (Celsius) over the next week or so. Joy. The paper, of course, blames El Nino.) We spent the morning and late afternoon at the JMC working on our surveys, trying to focus our goals and decide what’s most relevant and realistic for our purposes. We’ll meet with Vimala tomorrow to work on focusing them even more and hopefully we’ll have them finalized on Friday and ready to use on Monday.
From 12-2, we were invited to the weekly Health Camp at the GRC, where people (mostly women and children) can come to see a doctor and receive medications, stocked by the Delhi government, free-of-charge. It was pretty interesting to observe, and we were fairly impressed with the organization and efficiency of it. There were probably 100 women and children who came through today. It did raise a lot of questions about what people with more serious health problems do, since the doctor just gives a presumptive diagnosis based on the patient’s description of their symptoms, they receive their meds and verbal instructions, and they are sent on their way. We had Charu, our translator, ask the doctor if she gives referrals for more serious-sounding conditions, and she said she refers people to a hospital that offers services free-of-charge to the poor – the hospital is a good 30-minute rickshaw ride away, and I’d be surprised if any of these women could afford that kind of trip. I’ll be interested to find out more as we go about our surveys, to see exactly what services are available to these women and what they are being denied.
Yesterday was extremely draining and, after we finally summoned the energy to leave our air-conditioned rooms in search of dinner, all three of us were passed out by 10:00. Today, we spent the day inside – a treat for yesterday and the many days in the sun to come. (We read in the paper this morning that the monsoon might be late this year…or not come at all, and that we should expect temperatures in the 40s (Celsius) over the next week or so. Joy. The paper, of course, blames El Nino.) We spent the morning and late afternoon at the JMC working on our surveys, trying to focus our goals and decide what’s most relevant and realistic for our purposes. We’ll meet with Vimala tomorrow to work on focusing them even more and hopefully we’ll have them finalized on Friday and ready to use on Monday.
From 12-2, we were invited to the weekly Health Camp at the GRC, where people (mostly women and children) can come to see a doctor and receive medications, stocked by the Delhi government, free-of-charge. It was pretty interesting to observe, and we were fairly impressed with the organization and efficiency of it. There were probably 100 women and children who came through today. It did raise a lot of questions about what people with more serious health problems do, since the doctor just gives a presumptive diagnosis based on the patient’s description of their symptoms, they receive their meds and verbal instructions, and they are sent on their way. We had Charu, our translator, ask the doctor if she gives referrals for more serious-sounding conditions, and she said she refers people to a hospital that offers services free-of-charge to the poor – the hospital is a good 30-minute rickshaw ride away, and I’d be surprised if any of these women could afford that kind of trip. I’ll be interested to find out more as we go about our surveys, to see exactly what services are available to these women and what they are being denied.
Monday, June 15, 2009
First Days in Delhi
I have been in Delhi three days now, and it’s just now starting to sink in what I’m doing here. We – Colette, Sarah, and I – arrived Friday night after about 24 hours of traveling. It was exhausting and the jet lag has been difficult to get over this time around. We spent all weekend resting and trying to acclimate ourselves to the food and the heat, finding time in between our frequent naps to check out some markets and let Colette show us around.
Our living situation here is pretty great. We are living with Prem and his wife Abha, a very sweet and welcoming couple who rent out rooms in their flat to foreign visitors. Sarah and I share a room with our own bathroom, TV with Indian cable (Bollywood movies, Indian music videos, and the BBC – what more do you need?), and AC. The house also has wireless internet and a lady who comes every weekend to give Abha massages and pedicures…will definitely be tapping into that! There’s also an air-conditioned gym right around the corner – the Barbarian, owned by a famous national trainer – which I think will be crucial to my personal sanity, as well as my waistline.
The monsoons have not yet arrived in Delhi (they will hopefully be here mid-July…hopefully) and until then, it’s bloody hot. It’s been consistently in the 100s since we’ve been here. The humidity isn’t horrible yet, but it’s already been a challenge to stay hydrated, and I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated air-conditioning and cold showers as I do here. It’s the kind of heat that sucks all of your energy, as well as your fluids, and makes eating the last thing you feel like doing. It will definitely take awhile before I feel normal.
It was good to start work today, sort of snapped things back in focus for me. Our rickshaw ride to the office this morning was a perfect introduction to the rat race that is Delhi traffic. It’s really quite impressive, the pure chaos that it is – a cluster of dented rickshaws, scooters, bicycles, cars (from rusty Peugeots to shiny BMWs), and buses boasting “world’s largest eco-friendly bus service,” as plumes of black smoke billow out from underneath. There are lanes painted in the roads, but they’re really just used as guidelines in what becomes a skillful game of maneuvers, weaving between vehicles and edging others out of the way. Sometimes it’s more like a game of chicken, or to see if we can cross three lanes before oncoming traffic reaches us. In the little open-air rickshaw, you get a pretty exciting, and occasionally terrifying, ride. But the view definitely can’t be beat.
Everyone at the office is great and all seem to be extremely good at what they do. I think we are in good hands here. Vimala, our supervisor and one of the Directors, is a powerhouse and I think we stand to learn quite a lot from her. New Concept Information Systems is the business behind all the work they do – it’s an organization that provides technological and communications support to various social development projects, from local organizations to FHI and UNICEF. It’s really impressive, all the work they do. The Jaishankar Memorial Centre (JMC) is their NGO/NPO arm that we’ll be working with to do our research. We’ll be working with them to identify two or three vulnerable communities in which to conduct our surveys, trying to determine barriers to accessing health care and government social services. In addition to the surveys, we’ll also be using GPS units to map the communities – including the households we survey, available water sources, sanitation facilities or problems, and the various health facilities in proximity. It will be an interesting and challenging project. To a certain extent, I feel like we’re being tossed into the deep end, but I think the three of us will make a good team and, with help from the JMC team and our professors back home, hopefully we can produce something useful in the end. I’m looking forward to it.
Our living situation here is pretty great. We are living with Prem and his wife Abha, a very sweet and welcoming couple who rent out rooms in their flat to foreign visitors. Sarah and I share a room with our own bathroom, TV with Indian cable (Bollywood movies, Indian music videos, and the BBC – what more do you need?), and AC. The house also has wireless internet and a lady who comes every weekend to give Abha massages and pedicures…will definitely be tapping into that! There’s also an air-conditioned gym right around the corner – the Barbarian, owned by a famous national trainer – which I think will be crucial to my personal sanity, as well as my waistline.
The monsoons have not yet arrived in Delhi (they will hopefully be here mid-July…hopefully) and until then, it’s bloody hot. It’s been consistently in the 100s since we’ve been here. The humidity isn’t horrible yet, but it’s already been a challenge to stay hydrated, and I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated air-conditioning and cold showers as I do here. It’s the kind of heat that sucks all of your energy, as well as your fluids, and makes eating the last thing you feel like doing. It will definitely take awhile before I feel normal.
It was good to start work today, sort of snapped things back in focus for me. Our rickshaw ride to the office this morning was a perfect introduction to the rat race that is Delhi traffic. It’s really quite impressive, the pure chaos that it is – a cluster of dented rickshaws, scooters, bicycles, cars (from rusty Peugeots to shiny BMWs), and buses boasting “world’s largest eco-friendly bus service,” as plumes of black smoke billow out from underneath. There are lanes painted in the roads, but they’re really just used as guidelines in what becomes a skillful game of maneuvers, weaving between vehicles and edging others out of the way. Sometimes it’s more like a game of chicken, or to see if we can cross three lanes before oncoming traffic reaches us. In the little open-air rickshaw, you get a pretty exciting, and occasionally terrifying, ride. But the view definitely can’t be beat.
Everyone at the office is great and all seem to be extremely good at what they do. I think we are in good hands here. Vimala, our supervisor and one of the Directors, is a powerhouse and I think we stand to learn quite a lot from her. New Concept Information Systems is the business behind all the work they do – it’s an organization that provides technological and communications support to various social development projects, from local organizations to FHI and UNICEF. It’s really impressive, all the work they do. The Jaishankar Memorial Centre (JMC) is their NGO/NPO arm that we’ll be working with to do our research. We’ll be working with them to identify two or three vulnerable communities in which to conduct our surveys, trying to determine barriers to accessing health care and government social services. In addition to the surveys, we’ll also be using GPS units to map the communities – including the households we survey, available water sources, sanitation facilities or problems, and the various health facilities in proximity. It will be an interesting and challenging project. To a certain extent, I feel like we’re being tossed into the deep end, but I think the three of us will make a good team and, with help from the JMC team and our professors back home, hopefully we can produce something useful in the end. I’m looking forward to it.
"Man's dearest possession is life. It is given to him but once, and he must live it so as to feel no torturing regrets for wasted years, never know the burning shame of a mean and petty past; so live that, dying he might say, all my life, all my strength were given to the finest cause in all the world -- the fight for the liberation of mankind. And one must make use of every moment of life, lest some sudden illness or tragic accident cut it short."
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