Roshen Time

This morning, we had an optional yoga session at 5:30am. In order to participate, you not only had to wake up at 5:30, but you had to ride on a bus, trek up a mountain, and only then do yoga on top of a rock. I was super pumped. However….guess who didn’t hear her alarm and didn’t wake up until 5:50? Yup, me. I ran outside to see if they were still there…nope. I started to slightly freak out, thinking I was the only one who wouldn’t be there, I had talked so much about it and then failed to show, they had probably waited forever for me before leaving, Sid and Roshen were going to make fun of me for not waking up. So I got back into bed, dozed a little bit, and then showered and got ready. I brought a book down to the lobby so that I would be there when the kids got back and wouldn’t miss the bus to breakfast and the field visits.

I had been sitting there for maybe 10 minutes when who pads down the hallway but Roshen himself (and yes, he really truly pads. Roshen is like a little Indian hobbit…the bonus is that he is always barefooted). I asked, “Roshen! You didn’t go?” to which he giggled(and when I say Roshen giggles, he really truly giggles) and replied, “No. Jen there was a reason why I stressed that It was optional.” [Normally on SJPD when things are optional, it really means you’re expected to participate. Clearly not this time!] “Want to go get some tea?”

Yessssss this was the Roshen time that I have been missing. We walked down the national highway [the main road through Koppal…that leads to Bangalore on one end and Delhi on the other] and had a great chat about assumptions, course design, the art of debriefing, and how we thought each of the students was doing.

We also talked about the Western lens, even the “Visthar social justice” lens that we automatically bring to our field visits. We are in a social justice class meeting with temple prostitutes about the woes of the “system”; therefore in our questions and discussions we already bring the assumption that this is a bad system and that those involved in it agree. However, we never even give space for them to tell us what they think about the morality of it. So we decided to chat about it with the students, to see if we could challenge our prejudices and take steps towards truly open dialogue. I just love Roshen, and I just love my job.

Talking Marriage with Devadassis

Well, today is day #1 on the Koppal field visit. We arrived at around 7:45 this morning and jumped right into business. Visthar has a second campus here, so the group split into 2 with half of us going to visit a government school and the Bandhavi building and the other half heading to new visthar to plant some trees and help with construction. I was assigned the tree-planting…but because of my love for Bandhavi ad my interest in education, I pulled a sly swap. Later in the day we all met up at new Visthar and met with Maji Devadassi women and their children (aka Bandhavi girls).

While I absolutely loved my time at the school and spent with the children, the highlight and most meaningful part of my field visit was our chat with the Maji Devadassi women. Their fire and their fervor was undeniable and I was amazed at the ease with which they shared their deepest troubles and personal stories. [Note: Devadassi women are what is most easily translated into English as temple prostitutes. Maji means “Ex”, so these women are no longer practicing. The practce has been illegal in Karnataka for 30 years, but still exists. I’d love to talk to you more about it later!] But the moment that captured my heart was at the end, when we asked them if they had any questions for us.

Their question was, “What is a wedding like in your country?” This question after we had spoken with them about their personal lives, their relationships with males, the fact that they have been “married” to the gods. Those of you who know me know that I am slightly obsessed with weddings, and at first it was fun and girly to talk with them about it and see the joy in their eyes. But soon the reality hit me, and it broke my heart. Because of this system, because of their caste, because of their poverty, these women have been robbed of not only having a wedding, but of the beauty that is marriage. And when they applauded at the end of our description, I knew it wasn’t because of the church and the white dress. it was because of the love, the commitment, the relationship that we described that they will never have.

Day 1 in Koppal was a beautiful day filled with beautiful people, and although it is something that I have been thinking for awhile as I sat on the bus watching the countryside go by I verbalized it for the first time: I never want to leave India.

Dear Grandma Mabs

Dear Grandma Mabs,

If you could see me now, you would have a conniption. I am sitting wrapped up in a hopefully clean white sheet on a blue vinyl bed on the upper bunk of a sleeper car on a train trying to avoid contact with the rough blanket they gave me and to ignore the trash in the pocket on the wall in front of my face. My backpack is safeguarded between my head and the wall and although I am using my own travel pillow on top of the one that they gave me, I reallllly hope that I do not contract lice…again.

Lots of love from India!

I'm Going to Koppal!

So all weekend long, my students have been scheming to figure out a way that I can go to Koppal with them. This was the one field visit that I had been planning on attending since the first day that I got here, but for some reason the travel agent missed my ticket.

The idea was to sneak me onto the train. We were going to be in sleeper cars, so I could just snuggle into someone’s berth behind some bags. Right? And if I got caught, we could just pay them off…this is India, isn’t it? The funny thing is, even their professor was talking about sneaking me on. So there I was, in a moral dilemma – I never, ever break rules. And here I am considering taking a 10 hour train ride without a ticket?!?

At lunch, I found myself sitting by Sham, who was also going to Koppal. He started talking about how it was really too bad that such a mistake happened because it would have been great if I could have gone. He didn’t understand what happened – whawt if I just got on the train with the other students and hid when the conductor came around? The professor and I looked at each other and looked back at Sham, asking, “Really?!?” because if Sham, who is one of the most integritious people I work with, was suggesting it, we would totally do it. “No,” he said, “because there could be some trouble. But I am going to call Anu to see what the problem was. Because that really shouldn’t have happened. And I am going to tell her that you are sitting here crying….” “Well Sham, I did cry. Just a little bit. Not only because of that – it was a really rough day – [that was when I had lice] but yes, there were some tears.”

And with that he was off.

Ten minutes later I ran into him again, and he said, “We figured it out – you are coming.”

The best part was when I told Roshen. He giggled. And then 15 minutes later he came back to where Sid and I were meeting (In the love hut, slapping mosquitos. He hates that I make us have meetings in the great outdoors. Roshen loves it.) and said, “You were serious! I thought you were joking.” I said, “Roshen are you happy?” And he said, “Nooooo” and walked away giggling.

I love my life. And as great of a blog post sneaking onto a train would have been, I am thankful that I ended up with a ticket J

Heart-to-Heart

Have I mentioned before that I love my kids? Tonight was a night that I was feeling slightly melancholy and really only wanted to lay in bed and watch a movie. Which had been my original plan, but first I had a Skype meeting with some prospective program partners. So I went to the library at 745 only to find out that the internet was down. Another student was in there, so we started chatting. Another joined, and what started as a time-filling conversation ended up being a two-and-a-half hour heart-to-heart. It was a blessing and a Godsend, so much more therapeutic than watching a movie by my self could ever be, and just one more reason why I absolutely love my job.

FunWorld

I woke up this morning stiff as a board without being able to move my neck. I feel as if I was in a car crash; as if I have literally been hit by a truck. “What did I do to myself?” I asked. And then I remembered. I went to Funworld last night.

And at Funworld, I saw my life flash before my eyes several times.

Now, if you drive by Funworld, you would probably think, “Oh look, an old run-down Indian amusement park.” If you park your car and walk towards Funworld, you think, “Wow, based upon the empty parking lot on a Friday night this really looks like a thrilling place to be.” After you enter the gates, you think, “Hey, this is sketch but look, there are no lines. This could be fun.”

It wasn’t until I was sitting in my first ride and looked down at the slightly-broken safety bar that I looked at Devaney and said, “I am seriously starting to question the safety of this place…”

That thought repeated itself several times throughout the night: as I got off of a ride and realized that it had been mechanized not by machinery but by the manpower of the guys who spun us round-and-round (btw, I only realized this as I too crossed all safety lines to stand next to them and take pictures…), as a ride was about to begin but James raised his arms in a “Time-out” position because JP’s seatbelt had broken, as we were riding one of those pirate ships that swings back and forth and found the safety bars lifting and the attendant motioning us to get off when the ship was still swinging (you had to time it really well as the ship swung across: nothing – platform – nothing – platform – nothing – jump!) and as we walked across the tracks of one ride in order to get to the entrance of the roller coaster.

The roller coaster is a story in and of itself. The cars looked like something that had been used as decoration and was scavenged from the basement of the Phantom of the Opera and when it lurched to a start there was such clank and clatter that I (a) started praying that we would make it around the tracks and (b) decided this would be a great time to take some video footage. I am so glad I did, because as we neared the first big drop Devaney turned around and shook her head dubiously. I watched the first cars’ hands go up, then the second, and suddenly – we dropped. No, we didn’t just start to go downhill on the tracks. I am pretty positive that the cars continued going straight until there were no more tracks to follow and then dropped back down onto them. My camera went tumbling (if you watch the footage, you would probably believe that this is the point where we died because it tumbles, tumbles, tumbles and then shuts off), I just about bit my tongue off, and I’m pretty sure that my entire ribcage is bruised from the impact.

However, the amount of laughter that this night brought us makes up for any safety hazards that we faced, and the fact that we survived Funworld makes the next five years of chiropractic care worth the money J

Worst. Day. Ever.

Today is quite possibly the absolute worst day I have ever had. Probably not, but I don’t remember the last time that I felt like I am feeling right now. (A) I have lice. Which is kind of awkward and a huge hassle, and I was kind of freaking out, but then I ran into Roshen. I wailed, “Roshen I have liiiice” and he laughed at me. I said, “Roshen! You are laughing at me!” and he giggled and said, “Yes, isn’t it all just a part of growing up?” I washed my sheets, washed my hair with lice shampoo, some of the girls combed through and put this oil concoction in it and assured me that it would kill them and that I would be all right (I tell you the truth, what I would do without these girls is beyond me. Some would say that I am a gift to them, but the truth is that they are an incredible gift to me). I had an incredible morning with the students as we discussed culture shock and I led an evaluation session that really turned into more of a re-entry discussion as they struggled with what they do with everything that they have learned thus far. Man I love these kids. Then (B) happened.

The program is going on a field visit next week to Koppal. It is for their Identity, Resistance and Liberation unit and is the one field visit that I get to go on and have been planning to go on since July. Last week there was a bit of concern that I wouldn’t be able to go because they lost a translator and 3 random girls who are staying here were also invited to come along, but that was resolved. However, (B) today after lunch Roshen told me that there is no train ticket for me. I have been on the list since freaking July, but the train station made a mistake and only gave us 20 tickets, not 21. And it was so difficult to get tickets for these other 3 girls there is no way we could get one for me. so….I don’t get to go. But, reassured Roshen, maybe I can go with Nasser (one of our staff) when he goes in November when the rest of the program is gone. Which is great, but beyond the point.

After talking to Roshen for just a little bit, I had to go wash the oil out of my hair. As I washed, I started to cry. This is the only field visit I get to go on. Not only would it be great for my education to be able to participate in the facilitating of a field visit, but I love these kids. And now, I only have five weeks left with them. They’re gone next week, back two weeks, gone one week, back one week, gone four weeks, back two weeks and then we all fly home. Only five weeks left with them and the other staff, and it makes me very very sad.

To top it off, I started combing out my hair. And when I pulled that comb out of my hair only to find it covered with huge lice, I just lost it. It is a feeling that I cannot describe with words, but it is slightly akin to the feeling you get in your stomach when you back your car into your neighbors mailbox mixed with an “I just want to throw up” kind of feeling. Yeah. Let’s just say that I cried off and on throughout this process.

So when Sid called to check on our weekend plans, it should come as no surprise that I answered with “Can we just talk about how much life sucks right now? I am standing on my front step combing giant bugs out of my hair and because of India’s inefficiency I have to stay home from Koppal and the very last thing that I want to do right now is go to Funworld.” I am normally a pretty pleasant and positive person, so I think he was taken a bit by surprise.

What is Funworld, you ask? Funworld is the 200Rs. Amusement park that I was taking a group of students to tonight. Quite the place to go when you’re in an “I hate life” mood…especially when in addition to “I hate life” you are also thinking, “I never hate life. What is the root of these feelings and how am I supposed to process them properly; which emotions are appropriate to act upon?” Yes, it was quite complex. Needless to say, I wasn’t a lot of fun at the beginning. And started crying when chatting with more than one of the students. However, by the end of the evening I was feeling a lot more grown-up and professional about everything. Funny how a night at a sketchy Indian amusement park did that to me….

And that night, I only combed one louse out of my hair. And all the nits that came out were dead. So I guess things are looking upwards.