Tuesday, July 20, 2010

REALLY miss carrots

On Saturday some of us visited the Purkal Society for Youth Development, a school created for bright children who come from impoverished families located in villages south of Mussorie and North of Deradhun. The organization essentially began as after school tutoring by this man GK Swamy 20 years ago and is now a fully developed school for over 200 students. It is able to operate mostly thanks to donations from wealthy Indian citizens. How did 17 EAP students find themselves here? Well I’ll tell you! The woman who does a lot of financial work for the organization just so happened to be in a language class with a few of EAP students and invited us to the school for the day!

We were picked up by the Purkal school bus around noon and arrived in time for lunch. As soon as we got off the school bus after a ride of twists and turns and curves like a Botecelli painting we were transported into a humid, tropical place complete with the whisperings of bugs wings flapping through the sticky air and the more audible cries of birds and the familiar, but long unheard by our ears: songs of children laughing and playing! We sat down for lunch with a few of the students, who were adorable and had incredible mastery of English. Lunch consisted of rice, beans, some curried veggies and fresh cut tomatoes, cucumbers, radish and carrots (YESSSSS). It was delicious and fully balanced and not fried (YESSSS). Speaking Hindi with them was funny and inspiring as they have such a good grasp on our language while we are still bumbling and butchering our way through using Hindi to communicate more than just “hello’s; how are you?’s; and what’s your name?’s.”

After lunch we entered the Stree Shakti quilt making complex—another part of the Purkal society that focuses on women empowerment via quilt making for personal profit. Village women are employed to craft quilts and organize themselves into groups of 10, which share bank accounts and savings. Purkal provides the materials and pattern templates, which the women use to make the most sundar quilts and other precious knick knacks (pot holders, baby quilts, purses, lap top cases, etc). Essentially the women are able to generate their own income and savings, a much more practical seeming help-model than ridiculous low finance loans. We also got to visit the nursery (krish) for the children of the quilt makers. ADORABLE!

After that we were paired into teams of 2 and sent to classrooms where kids ranging from grade 3 to grade 11 asked us questions! “What’s your hobby?” “How do you rule places like Alaska and Hawaii if they’re not connected?” “Can you sing your national anthem?” “What’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you?” etc, etc. We stumbled through the national anthem and told them a bit about California culture (beaches, burritos, babes obviously). They were interested in hearing the differences between American schools and Indian schools, a question which stumped me because I don’t know too absurdly much about the Indian education system but that Indian public schools, especially in rural areas, have horrible track records of absentee or basically bad teachers who are ill-equipped to prepare children for the intensity of higher levels of education.

The intelligence and eagerness of the kids to learn about us and America was really refreshing and unadulterated compared to being asked more personal or blunt questions by strangers in the street. The kids also tested out Hindi abilities and made us write our names in Hindi on the white board and then had us write down some of their names in Hindi too! Afterwards they sang the theme song to my favorite Bollywood movie (Gol Maal) and then we sang them N’SYNC’s “Tearin’ Up My Heart” with a little choreography by yours truly. SO GOOD.

The experience really makes me want to teach English abroad after I graduate (if I can afford to with all these budget cuts! Thanks Arnold, Prop 13, UC Regents, etc). One child asked us why we wanted to learn to speak Hindi. I responded: Hindi bhasha bahut sundar he! (Hindi language is very beautiful!). And a few other students received the same question in their classes too (Q: Do you think Hindi is a practical language? A: Anything in addition to English is practical). English is the language of power. Americans are lucky enough to currently be the strongest power in the world and thus really don’t need to know anything but English, but it is egotistical and ignorant to only teach English. While children in India are forced to learn English if they expect to go into higher education (all classes at Delhi University are taught in English, for example), we are allowed to weasel by that requirement in America far too easily. When we take foreign language classes it is often not for career survival or even to necessarily visit the country of whatever language we’re learning. My experience learning Hindi is challenging but exciting—to learn a language in context and to be able to interact with people who haven’t received a formal education. Additionally, it shows my respect for the country that I am currently inhabiting.

Back to Delhi in 5 days! Ahh!

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Kaal kahbie nahee atta

So it has been a while since I last updated this bad boy. It’s strange living without a consistent source of internet. I realize that I am definitely behind in world news (how’s that oil spill going?) and have gravely taken for granted the instant gratification of Wikipedia knowledge, alas! Anyways let me fill ye all in on the past week and a halfish (while I eat a little bag of golden raisins—only 25 rupees! That’s about 50 cents American, suckas!).

Last weekend the group went to Yamunotri—a temple devoted to the goddess Yamuna, daughter of the sun and the origin of the Yamuna River, the second holiest river in India behind the Ganges. What was supposed to be about a 6 hour cab ride turned into 10 hours—India time, rather than being infuriating, reminds me of my own inability to be punctual and thus it would be hypocritical to slander it too harshly. The drive was on the windiest of winding 2 lane roads hugging the steep Himalayan mountain sides with often nothing more than a few boulders painted with big white circles with a red center—warning of the perilous fall that awaited your car, should you be so unfortunate to ignore their gentle guidance—between you and the hundreds of feet down to the Yamuna.

The drive was not as terrifying as I like to make it sound (though one cab did crash into a building while one of the cab drivers tried to close one of the back doors while in transit). It was superbly gorgeous driving through the Himalayas and everything is becoming all shades of green thanks to the Monsoon rains. Nearly every hill is covered in terraces and pocked with small groupings of farming villages. Many roadside signs boasted of World Bank funding—something I’d like to find out more about, like how exactly they good ol’ World Bank is helping? If only I had taken a Globalization class or had access to Wikipedia. There were a couple of visible mudslides too, which looked devastating even from where our point of view was far below.

When we finally arrived to Janki Chatti, the last town before the trek to Yamunotri, we had the best chai I’ve had thus far in India and took a little walk around. It was a paradoxical place. Sherpas playing music on their cell phones. Families living in small structures of tin roofs and dirt floors gathered around T.V.s and cooking their dinners over open flames and earthen ovens. We began the 6 kilometer trek the next morning around 7. What I had assumed would be a hike through brush and forest turned out to be a completely paved path all the way to the temple (because Yamunotri is one of the most holy Hindu sites it obviously has to be accessible year round, regardless of weather conditions). It was still a good trek as it was almost entirely up hill and covered in horse excrement from the horses that carry up devout Hindus who are too old and not healthy enough to do the actual walk. In addition to horses there are also people that are hired to carry the unwell up the hill too! One contraption is like a lounge chair made of bamboo that 4 men carry on their shoulders. The other is simply a large wicker basket that one man carries on his back—with a person in it! And that’s how he makes his living! I was amazed.

When we reached the temple (after about an hour and a halfish?) we entered these natural hot springs at the entrance of the temple. There were separate baths for men and women. The men’s bath was on top out in the open air with the women’s directly underneath it. The women’s bath was intensely steamy, dark and cavernous (additionally, the walls were painted pink. Structural analogy much??). It was glorious to be submerged in a body of hot water after weeks of taking buckets (shower heads are rare, or don’t work when they exist. And there’s no hot water where I am currently staying, yikes). The Indian women in the baths were really friendly and laughing and welcoming! After the dip we went up to the temple and gave puja and received red dots in the middle of our foreheads. After that I realized how grossly ignorant I am to Hinduism—I still don’t know what the red dot means, another time Wikipedia would be AMAZING to have at my disposal.

That night we had an amazing dinner of roti and veggies and rice pudding with golden raisins! The food at Janki Chatti was definitely the best I’ve had during my time in India thus far. After dinner we took another walk and the sky was bursting with stars! Over the ridge of the nearest hill we could spy the milky way floating atop the indigo blue of the night and the streets were washed in an orangey-yellow light from the sparse street lamps and the air was fresh smelling with rain but also a bit pungent with horse shit and the burning embers from earthen ovens and it was maybe one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced.



So that was Yamunotri. We returned to Mussoorie that night and had class the next morning at 8! We’re already in chapter 11 of this Hindi text book and it is seriously remarkable how much we’ve learned over the past two and a half weeks. We know the alphabet, how to count to 30, have a pretty large vocabulary, know how to address people formally and informally how to intensify transitive and intransitive verbs, etc! We’re by no means fluent but can definitely barter and chat with locals now. The proficiency learned in a week was quite helpful when…..

Just this past weekend we went to Rishikesh, the yoga capitol of ze world! We took taxis right after school (1600 rupees one way, which ended up being 400 rupees a person, which is about 8 dollars a person for a 3 hour cab ride). Some other groups took the bus which was only 30 rupees, but given that our group of 5 was all girls we decided to eschew any unnecessary sexual harassment/gawking/discomfort that an unfamiliar bus ride might entail (at least for this particular sojourn). Anyways, we got in around 6 and checked into the Shri Sant Seva Ashram right on the Ganges, just east of the Luxman Jhula Bridge. Our room had a balcony overlooking the Ganges and air conditioning—YES. The next morning we woke up for a 730 beginners Hatha yoga class at the ashram. While it was relaxing, I really wanted to do some intense warrior yoga. Alas, with such a short time there and nothing to guide us but the Lonely Planet it was not found that weekend. After the yoga folly we went to lunch at a place called Chotiwala, recommended by one of our teachers at the language school. It was kind of like the McDonalds of India in the fact that it was fastish food and it had this weird little mascot: picture a small fat blue man wearing a sarong, totally bald except for a sprig of hair sticking up from the back of his head like a tail or one spike in a Mohawk (called a Choti), and the rest of his dome covered in artistic, multicolored swirls and shapes.

After lunch we did some shopping, got caught in a monsoon downpour and then went to a religious ceremony on the Ganges (I say it was Buddhist because they were chanting about the Dali Lama while others in our party say it was Hindu because it was performed before a huge statue of Shiva sitting in the Ganges, but I digress). The entire ceremony (maybe about an hour and a half long?) was basically a musical performance by the gurus-in-training wearing banana yellow kurtas (long, male shirts) and salwars (pants). Midway through the ceremony an old women dressed in all orange began leading the chants as well. The music was absolutely hypnotizing. Musical accompaniment=tabla drums, accordion and little finger cymbals.

The next day Nina, 2 other girls from our program and I decided to find some waterfalls that the Lonely Planet boasted was a mere 15 minute walk from town. It was more like 40 minutes down the road plus a tiny 10 minute hike, but the relief of standing under a waterfall after walking in the stifling, humid heat was well worth it. And of course we submerged ourselves fully clothed as per Indian propriety. There were some local guys at the waterfall that we talked to a little bit in Hindi and followed us back to town and of course made unsultry remarks to us because being a white woman in this country basically makes you a well-known whore merely by the color of your skin. But we’re all dealing.

It was also strange being white in Rishikesh because as it is a tourist attraction, being white makes you another one of the town’s attractions. It is RIDICULOUS how many pictures were taken of us—with or without our permission. I would go on but I need to do my Hindi homework and this is already the longest post in the world.

PS: Leave me your address so I can send you a postcard or somethannnnnn!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo