Leaving (On the Plane from Paris - Mpls)

I was sitting here on

the plane

and realized i have my phone

so i can call when i

land.

then i realized

i dont really want to.

instead,

i have been filled with

a paralyzing fear.

i dont want to get off

this plane.

and i definitely

dont want to

go through

those sliding doors after

customs.

i get nauseaus just

thinking about it.

because once i

step through those doors

it’s real.

it’s over.

and i dont want it to be.

Leaving (On the Plane from Bangalore - Paris)

i left a lot of people i love today.

although i cried at Bandhavi earlier, there were no tears as i drove out of Visthar. or when i said goodbye to Sid and Roshen because, honestly, it didn’t really feel like i was going anywhere. but when i sat at the airport reorganizing my things - alone - and found Jyothi’s card, that’s when it hit me that it’s for real and i dont have any idea when i will see any of them ever again.

and that sucks.

my body resisted as i boarded the plane and the tears started as i walked down the jetway. i walked back and back and back and was a bit peeved to find that i was the end of the row of crying babies. but then i had to laugh, because i am crying just as hard {if silent} as any of them. i felt like Mel, sitting on the airplane crying. the flight attendant even asked if i was ok or needed anything.

i was comforted by the woman next to me speaking Kannada to her fussing daughter. but then she called her Akshaya, and the tears began all over again. the woman asked where i was going, and i laughed when i said america through my tears - home. normally people are thrilled to be going home for christmas. not me. i would rather spend it in india.

we started down the runway, and with each rotation of the wheel i felt myself resisting more and more and found myself chanting, “i dont want to leave i dont want to leave” we stopped, and i took a few deep breaths. i was going to be ok. nope. then we took off, and when the plane jetted into the air i literally felt my heart rip in half. and it hurt. so badly. i couldnt breathe, i started heaving, and i had to hold onto the handles i was in so much pain.

this is the strangest feeling/emotion i have ever felt {and i’m going to stop writing soon because my eyes and head hurt so much}. it is a good emotion though - it means i have loved, and deeply. but it also means that love has now been left behind. and this pain, well, i dont think i have felt anything like it. ever.

and the funny thing is, as i laugh through my tears, i’m going home for christmas. christmas! aren’t you suppoed to be excited to go home for christmas? because i’’m not. at all.

Leaving [Waiting to Board]

this sucks, dude.

why the heck am i

leaving india?!?

sucks. sucks. sucks.

sucks.

sucks.

i really wish i were

more articulate right now.

but as my girls’ faces

and laughter

replay in my mind,

i didn’t even get

to give everyone a

real goodbye,

there's so much more

i want to learn,

and my final image of

Roshen is him peering

through the window

clutching in his arms

a precious gook, giggling,

i wonder why.

and i tell myself,

this sucks, dude.

Goodbye India

Today, I'm leaving India. This country, these people, have captured a piece of my heart, and as I leave, and this piece remains, my heart is breaking. This song by Carrie Underwood is one that has played through my head often over the past few weeks as I've prepared to say goodbye, and although it is a song about a boy and a girl, it really resonates and captures what I am feeling as I leave this place and people who I have loved and who have loved me for the past six months.

So hard to see myself without you

I felt a piece of my heart break

But when you’re standing at a crossroad

There’s a choice you’ve gotta make

I guess it’s gonna have to hurt

I guess I’m gonna have to cry

And let go of some things I’ve loved

To get to the other side

I guess it’s gonna break me down

Like falling when you try to fly

It’s sad,

But sometimes moving on with the rest of your life

Starts with goodbye

I know there’s a blue horizon

Somewhere up ahead just waiting for me

But getting there means leaving things behind

Sometimes life’s so bittersweet

Time heals the wounds that you feel

Somehow…

But right now

I guess it’s gonna have to hurt

I guess I’m gonna have to cry

And let go of some things I’ve loved

To get to the other side

I guess it’s gonna break me down

It’s like falling when you try to fly

It’s sad,

But sometimes moving on with the rest of your life

Starts with goodbye

Oh my life.

Today was just another day in India -

I woke up this morning turned on the hot water,

and as I prepared to start filling my bucket, the phone rang.

It was Nazar, which for some reason didn't worry me.

We had a program this morning, but never did I think that he was calling with bad news.

"Jen, the children are coming today at 9:00. I will not be there. I have a proposal that is due by noon and I have to work on it...I will be there to do pottery, but I need you to run the program."

Awesome. Typical, and I shouldn't be surprised, but neither was I looking forward to this.

There were 52 2nd-graders coming in an hour, and I had to run their program. So I showered, had breakfast [it was a dosa day, which always makes things better], and as I was walking back to my room at 8:30 Nazar called again to tell me we needed to use a different space than usual. As I was talking to him to figure out where we could host 52 students, Rathi came running up to me: "Jen! The children are here!"

Awesome. I was still in my pajamas. And nobody else was here - not Nazar, not Vinoj [who I had recruited to help me with the nature walks since Debbie is busy facilitating another program], not even Siddo, who was coming to film the program. Just me.

So I herded the kids together, brought them to the ampitheatre, did a welcome, played a game, learned their names, explained Visthar. But they are not only 2nd standard. There were kids from 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, and 12th. Ha. Finally everybody showed up, we got the kids situated, but nothing really settled down until they left at 1:00. The kids were naughty, Nazar was in and out, Vinoj left, and at one time I had two groups [like 30 people] with me on a nature walk...a nature walk during which they didn't listen or even follow my directions. At one time they started stroking my arms and pulling my hair, at which I wanted to say, "Don't pet me, pet the cows!"

As I sit here recovering, I feel like I should feel a sense of accomplishment. But I don't. What I do feel is wonder - wonder that, even after 6 months of working in this crazy and inefficient Indian culture, and after days like today, I still don't want to leave. After the program, I was chatting with Nazar and found out that he didn't know that I am leaving on Monday. I think he almost cried. That's ok though, because I did too. Even though I shake my head at all this nonsense now, I'm going to miss it.

Released.

Well, I just got back from 4 days in an Indian hospital with Devaney...and it is like I just got released from prison. I feel so free. [I also feel very behind in my work, but that is a different story.]

Indian hospitals are not like American hospitals. Actually, I don't really know because I thankfully haven't spent an extended amount of time in an American hospital, but...yeah. It was quite the experience. And even more of an experience because I was with Devaney. And I just want to give a shoutout to all you nurses out there...because we were "That patient" and I want to thank you for your patience with people like us, God bless you for wanting to spend all day every day caring for the sick and needy.

Love my Life

Last night [slash this morning because it was like 1am] when the kids got home, the first thing that kyle did was ask if I wanted to go for a walk this morning. Which absolutely blessed my heart. And it was incredible. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and as we walked to Dodda Gubbi I took in the sights and sounds – children laughing, dogs running, fruit stands opening, and a man on a bicycle behind us singing at the top of his lungs. These are the things that I will miss in India. I will also miss these heart-to-hearts with my students. We talked about my month, his month, the things he learned while traveling, and the questions that it provoked, especially about faith and community. I love my life, I love the position of mentorship that I have with my kids, I love that my job is guiding their learning and listening to their growth. In India. Basically, I love my life.

Best. Day. Ever.

Today was probably my last day in Bangalore. And it was by far my best day in Bangalore. I had to go in to pick up my new sari that was being stitched and pick up a few final gifts, so into town I went. In the interest of time, I decided to take an auto into the city…and I am so glad that I did, because not a single bus passed us on the way to town.

I walked down commercial street and I had to stop at the explorer store…just had to. This is an incredible store filled with antiques and gadgets that the owner’s “men” have collected from all over India. It’s like a time warp, and I could spend hours in the tiny hallway of a store. But today, I discovered the upstairs: rickety staircase, lots of dust, and soooooo many old knick-knacks that I could barely even move. I picked up a few old coins and went back downstairs, and the man asked me what I found. I showed him the coins, and he said, “I have older.” For the next hour, he proceeded to show me his coin collection [most of which he just keeps to show people, it isn’t even on sale] and the stories behind each: who was the ruler when these coins circulated, if he was loved or hated, how many British officers it took to kill him, etc. It was awesome.

Then….I walked to cornerhouse. And had ice cream. By myself. Is that healthy? I don’t know. But it was delicious, and it was fun to sit on the front porch and watch Bangalore go by while enjoying one of my last choco-mocca sundaes.

It was time to pick up my sari. It was supposed to be finished yesterday, so I was looking forward to just picking it up. “Sorry Madam, it is not finished. It will be finished tomorrow.” Excuse me? It was supposed to be finished yesterday. “Sorry madam, we had no current. I can be finished by 6:00.” Sir, I life 45 minutes outside of Bangalore. I cannot be here until 6:00, and I cannot come back tomorrow. “One or two hours?” he asked. I looked at my watch – 1:10. One hour, I told him. Can you be finished by 2:00? “Give or take 5-10 minutes?” He asked. Deal.

So….that gave me a good excuse to go to my new favorite textile shop. I browsed, I felt, they served me tea and I pointed to fabrics I wanted to see as I enjoyed my chai. I felt like a queen, and before I knew it the 500 rupee-per-yard silks and linens had accumulated quite a pile…to the extent that 500-rupees-per-meter wasn’t that big of a discount anymore.

After I made my purchases, I headed back down to pick up my Sari. The man pulled out a chair for me, and I watched him say something to the man at the sewing machine who pulled out my sari fabric and STARTED to make my blouse. Oh man I was mad. It was supposed to be done yesterday, I came to Bangalore for the sole purpose of picking up my blouse, I don’t know when I will be back. Definitely not before next Saturday, which is when I need it. So I sat, pissed, for awhile, trying to have body language that portrayed my anger so that they would be able to hurry.

After awhile, though, I chastised myself realizing that that wasn’t really a very gracious way to behave. And that here I was, stuck at a real Indian tailor’s…so I might as well tak the opportunity to watch them sew my blouse. So I leaned in and observed, and an hour later my blouse was complete. I didn’t have the gumption to ask for a discount, and even though I watched the process I was still a pretty uptight and angry American as I left.

At this point, I was exhausted and more than ready to go home. Thankful that I had planned to take an auto, I made my way to the auto line. I didn’t even have the energy to barter…I accepted the “Meter + 40” that the man offered me. On the way, we chatted a bit and I started to loosen up. He asked me if I like India and I started to cry [seriously, this is happening to me way too often]. At a stoplight, he turned around and asked, “Would you like to learn to drive an auto rickshaw?” Ha. I said heck yes! And so after we hit Ring Road, he invited me up to the front and I took the handlebars.

It was…strange. Different. Like driving a stick-shift, but the gears are in the handlebars. After a while I was doing so well that he offered me control of the foot brake as well, but I decided that for both of our safety he should probably keep his foot on it. Once, though, I even drove by myself. He got out of the auto to start it, and then walked beside until I stalled. Prettttty cool. The only downside is that I as the only one in the auto, so I have no photos or video to document my experience. I was a little nervous that we were on the main road, and got a little anxious as I found myself face-to-face with oncoming traffic in typical India fashion. But it was exhilarating, kind of like one of those racing video games when you don’t have to stay in the lanes and your goal is just to get to the finish line safe and sound.

And I did J

Tomorrow My Life Will Change

Hm. Just a month ago I had a blog post with the same title. Time flew, as usual, and here we are again…tomorrow my life will change. My kids are coming home, and I am so excited. Roshen and Siddo are coming home too, which makes me really happy. Let’s flash back to the last time I was waiting for the kids to come: nervousness, excitement, fear. Now: excitement. Excitement. Excitement. I’m excited to hear about their month. I’m excited to hear what they learned. I’m excited to hear what questions they have. I’m excited to see how much more they have grown. I’m just plain excited.

Just Another Day in India

Well today started awesomely - I was happy, I was well-rested, I was motivated. Breakfast was delayed but I didn't let that put me off.

What put me off was morning tea. First, David asked a question about the calendar - he had a big dream for it that made perfect sense in his head, but both Debbie and I provided logical responses that proved his ideas to be not-so-good ideas. Which made him unhappy. Then the team who is working on the Bandhavi Day program (which is next weekend) presented their plan for the ceremony. They have been working very hard, the plan was made, there was an hour-by-hour schedule, a budget, and a theme, which was "Do Boys and Girls have Equal Roles in Society?" This is a super important theme for Indian students because of the radical patriarchal social structure that persists in India today and is perpetuated even in the school systems. However, long story short, they received nothing but bad feedback from the powers that be and had to create a completely different plan, return to the schools, etc. I know this is brief and may not make sense, but just know that it was a frustrating, prime example of Indian miscommunication, the dominance of authority, and lack of empowerment.

After morning tea, Mercy came to me and Debbie in the library. She had just received a call from a school down the road who had made plans months ago to come on a field trip to Visthar. She had forgotten they were coming, and had decided that Nazar (who was also in charge of re-planning Bandhavi Day), Debbie and I (who are leaving in 2.5 weeks and have loads of work to finish) should facilitate the program for 6th and 7th standard students. Ok, no problem. But wait, you will do the eco-tour. Debbie and I know nothing about the eco-ism of the campus; we were never given a formal tour ourselves. So what did we spend the afternoon doing? Going on a nature walk of the campus and then returning to further research so that we would have information worthy of a nature walk.

But wait, there's more. 10 minutes later, Mercy returned to the library. "Girls, I am never going to let you leave," she said. Why? Because she just heard from a gender workshop that she had committed to do next week but that she had forgotten about. "And I am want you two to come facilitate with me. It will be a great opportunity for you to run a workshop. We will plan tomorrow, because I will be in Tamil Nadu on Monday and Tuesday. Here's the schedule if you want to look at it." I took a look; the workshop is all day Wednesday. "You have some problem?" She asked. "Well, the students will be back and I don't know what their schedule is or what my responsibilities will be." "They'll just be writing their papers. You don't have to be here. It will be ok." But I insisted that I also have been working on a lot of stuff that I need to talk to Roshen about, so she said, "Fine. You talk to Roshen and find out if you can come, and we will plan tomorrow."

But after wasting the afternoon on a nature walk for a program that Mercy was supposed to prepare and forgot about, I decided that I wasn't going to waste another afternoon planning and a whole day facilitating another workshop that Mercy forgot about. It isn't fair to me, and it definitely isn't even fair to the participants - I am not a gender expert. I have no gender training whatsoever. And the thing is, when these things happen it is under the guise of empowerment. It will be professional development, an opportunity to lead. Yes, it would, and maybe if I had been invited to present a month ago I could have adequately prepared and been empowered through this experience. But not 4 days before, when I have other things to do as well and gender training isn't my niche or job description. Sadly, I didn't have the chance to [nicely] inform her of my decision before she waved me off and told me that it was ok, she and Debbie will do the training alone.

Thus is India. Or at least Visthar. and although my heart will break when I leave the people and the country, the work culture is definitely something that I will be more than ready to leave.