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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
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.
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