I am really beginning to notice a difference in the practical speaking skills of my students. It is very rewarding to see them speaking confidently, and I can tell that they understand the majority of what I say now. Teaching has been a (perhaps the only) consistent and predicable part of my experience in India. Along the way I have really enjoyed getting to know my students and helping them struggle (and persist) their way through English grammar and vocabulary. I have appreciated their dedication and their patience with my developing teaching skills. I have felt like a very inadequate teacher some days, but more often than not, I feel appreciated (and what more can a teacher ask for).
I finally finished my project today. I have had 3 or 4 cells in my logical framework to complete for the past two weeks, and it always seemed that when I sat down to do them something came up. I know that isn’t a very good excuse, but life here isn’t about planning, its about the moment. And there just weren’t that many moments available to finish that last little bit. I have also been asking the staff and Puthumai for some clarification and more details about a few of the terms and issues I was less familiar with. In the afternoon Puthumai gave me another assignment, to read the current government schemes available in W. Bengal. The document was intimidating at first, but eventually very interesting. The schemes helped me get a better sense of what problems the area faces and what the government is doing to combat these problems. I them wrote a few page summary of what I judged to be the most impactful programs and what suggestions I offered. It was good to do some intellectual work.
In the afternoon I visited Ruchi one last time before they boarded the train this evening. It was good to see Trisha and chat with Ruchi, and I know that I am going to miss having them around Raiganj. Then I met up with Regina and Hannah at Chonditola for an afternoon of arts and crafts. In my package their was some pencils for the kids, and Regina had some water colors and crayons. Hannah had purchased some notebooks for the kids early that day. We all brought the supplies and it was the first time that I have seen all of the kids sitting quietly for more than 15 minutes. It was great because the younger and older ones were all entertained and there was plenty to go around.
We all headed to St. Xavier afterwards to play with the hostel kids. We took tea and sweets before playing, to stock up on energy, and because as Hannah noted, it was tea time. There are four groups of kids out playing, they are all boys and they range in age from kindergarten (KG) to high school. I played a game that was similar to UNO with the KG’s for a while. The game was German (I think), and although I am pretty sure the rules are exactly the same as American UNO the kids had rules of their own (that changed quite often). It was definitely a good laugh. After I tossed the kids around for a while, chasing them and spinning them around while holding their hands. When that tired me out, I ran off to join some of the older ones in a game of volleyball. There is usually always a volleyball, soccer and basketball game going on. The volleyball teams consist of as many people as want to play and usually the oldest boy serves the whole game (I think this is because the old ones are the only ones who can hit the ball over the net). After a while Hannah and I left, because she didn’t want to walk home in the dark, and because I had broken quite a sweat by that time.
When I arrived at SWI Puthumai and I rushed to grab a rickshaw. He informed me on the way that we were going to Ruchi and Jonathon off at the train station. I was so glad he thought of that, it was such a considerate thing to do. We surprised them, and chatted for a few minutes before they had to board the train. After a slightly sad good-bye we waved as their train sped away. It was really sad to see them go, but it is a blessing that I have had people to care about in Raiganj. During dinner we watched the news, per usual, and discussed the relationship between Pakistan and the Taliban. It was a very interesting conversation, and I enjoy hearing the Fathers varying political positions and theories.
I have a large swollen bug bite on my left ankle, I showed Fr. Herman, because he was the only one up when I discovered it, and he thinks it looks like a wasp or ant bite. The only thing is, it doesn’t hurt or itch, which rules out the majority of bug bites. And it is decently swollen. I put some bug bite cream on it and will see what comes of it in the morning. Seeing the bite and realizing I had no idea what it could be from made me remember that I am in a foreign country, with different bugs and different sicknesses. It is surprising how easy it has become to forget that I am in some place that isn’t normal for me to be.
Sending love.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
2/17
I began my morning outing at the Post Office, because believe it or not my package arrived! We (Hannah and I) took at 20 minute rickshaw ride to the Post Office. I went further down Raiganj road to the West than ever before. Upon arrival we observed a front desk and a crowd of people standing parallel to it. We assumed their was some sort of system, of which we were ignorant of, so we sat down on some chairs in the back and waited for someone to tell us it was our turn. I now see that this was a very Western way to approach the situation. After 4 or 5 minutes of sitting we decided to approach the desk. Their was more of a crowd then a line so I stood in the crowd and tried to make eye contact with the man behind the counter. Just as he looked up at me a women squeezed in front of me on the right and he began helping her. I was now more determined then before. I stood my ground forcefully and upped by attempts at making eye contact. Luckily, the man looked at me next and I told him I needed to pick up a parcel. Blank stare. A package. Blank stare. I decided to mime a package. Blank stare. I then remember the slip in my pocket which the office staff gave me this morning indicated my package had arrived. I handed the man the slip. He looked at it and pointed to his far right. We headed to the right, and then he motioned no with his head, and pointed out the door. We went out the front door, and turned right, then into a very skeptical looking back door. Inside the door there were some men behind a door made of bars on our left, and what appeared to be a storage space for bicycles on our right. We made some noise and attracted the attention of the men behind the bars. Package, package. They pointed us towards the bicycles. So after careening our way through the bikes, past a vacated staircase, and around the corner in a hallway of doors we found ourselves behind the counter we had just stood in front of. We looked around. Then Hannah spotted it. Sitting in the corner in an office was my package! It was completely intact with no holes, tears or indications of rummaging or damage. I pointed and say that is for me! The women whose office my package was located in seemed a little taken aback. I looked at the package, pointed, and said that’s me, my name is Chelsea Krema. She seemed decently convinced, had me sign a few places and then let me (and my package) leave. After our first exit, she called me back for one more signature, but after that we were home free. I was so excited for the package I wanted to open it the whole rickshaw ride home, but instead I waited patiently until we reached SWI before I attacked it with a key and took everything out one by one exclaiming at each of the items and at how thoughtful my parents are. I would now like to send my apologizes to the Indian Postal Service, I appreciated your self-restraint in not opening my package, and I also appreciate that you delievered (of sorts) my package to me safely (and decently promptly, a 1 month turnaround time).
Then the shopping for the pizza began. We had bought yeast and wheat flour last week, but still needed ingredients for the sauce, and the cheese. The vegetable market is one of my favorites, as it is a larger area and all of the vegetables are sprawled on the ground in a rather artistic fashion. It feels like what a market should be, communal, on the ground, with tarps above for shade, it conveys the essence of marketing. We quickly spotted the reddest tomatoes and b-lined for them. We ended up asking the wrong man for the tomatoes, and he tried to communicate that we were asking about another mans stall, but of course we didn’t understand. Then the man (who belonged to the tomatoes, or the man to whom the tomatoes belonged) arrived and was more than happy to sell us his tomatoes. We also bought some red onions and garlic. Back at SWI we got plenty of looks and questions when we headed into the kitchen to make our sauce. More than one person came in, and inquired as to what we were making, why we were making it and how we knew how to make it. It was entertaining answering everyone’s questions, and I rather enjoyed being in the kitchen (even though cooking in an Indian kitchen is very different from cooking in an American kitchen). We made the sauce and it was actually quite tasty, although some basil would have made it tremendous! We packed it up, with the flour and yeast and headed out to find cheese. The Fathers were all out today (which is why we were playing hookey, no one to notice☺), so we asked varying staff members where they thought we could by cheese. Sr. T gave us some directions we were not quite clear about, so we asked Gabriel, the accountant, who had been helpful with the package and post office adventure of the morning. Gabriel asked the servant, (I temporarily forgot his name, I know it starts with a J, shoot) who does all of the shopping where we could find cheese. He was very helpful and even said he would go out and get it for us. But we were insistent that this was our pizza and we would be fine going on our own. We were directed to what I have dubbed, the Wal-Mart of Raiganj. I don’t mean Wal-Mart and all of its horrible connotations; I mean that you can find anything there. It doesn’t look too much larger than the other shops, but I am convinced that behind the front counter there are miles of storage space containing everything you could ever imagine. They had cheese in suspicious square packages wrapped in foil about the size of four domino squares stacked in a pile of two by two. We bought 10 packages and I took particular notice of the larger package which read: Processed Cheese. Yum.
We took all of the ingredients and some of the toys and socks that came in the package to Chonditola. We played with the kids and the bouncy balls that arrived today. They had a blast with them, although there was some conflict being that there were 6 balls and more than 6 kids. But that has to be a normal conflict at a place like Chonditola, there are never enough for one for each kid, so sharing becomes something learned early on. I had a lot of fun playing around with the kids, and actually broke quite a sweat (although with the increasing temperatures that is not too difficult). After Chonditola we went to St. Xavier with Regina because they are the only place in town with a oven. We had no proper measuring utensils and so we guesstimated on everything. The dough was made first and then we put the sauce and the cheese on before putting into the oven. The oven had to be scooted across the floor and plugged in, but it got quite hot (although there was no way to control the temperature of the oven). We played with the kids from the hostel while the pizza cooked, and had a lot of fun played volleyball with a group of around 20 middle schoolers. We made one pizza for SWI, one for DDC and two for St. Xaviers. Although we ran out of cheese early, the dough with sauce was an acceptable alternate.
In the evening Puthumai arrived back from Kumarganj, and took me to Jonathon and Ruchicka’s house for dinner. I thought it would just be the five of us, but when we arrived we quickly learned that the evening was a going away celebration as Jonathon has a new job in Quatar and the family is leaving for Calcutta tomorrow. I was shocked, and I have to admit a little selfishly sad. I know that they are very excited for the move to a metropolitan city, but it is sad that I won’t be able to go and hang out at their house anymore. They have been very good friends to me while I have been in Raiganj. Since the package came today I was able to give Trisha her birthday present, a pink stuffed bunny in a tutu. (Although I unfortunately learned the other day that bunnies are commonly eaten in India and Germany. To make matters worse, in Germany they eat them on Easter) She really enjoyed the present and we had a very nice time chatting and eating a good dinner. Puthumai and I walked home and had a nice chat along the way.
Hopefully tomorrow I will do some work, because I am starting to feel as though I am experiencing life more than I am working. I am in India to learn, but I am most importantly in Indian to learn about development practices.
Sending love.
Then the shopping for the pizza began. We had bought yeast and wheat flour last week, but still needed ingredients for the sauce, and the cheese. The vegetable market is one of my favorites, as it is a larger area and all of the vegetables are sprawled on the ground in a rather artistic fashion. It feels like what a market should be, communal, on the ground, with tarps above for shade, it conveys the essence of marketing. We quickly spotted the reddest tomatoes and b-lined for them. We ended up asking the wrong man for the tomatoes, and he tried to communicate that we were asking about another mans stall, but of course we didn’t understand. Then the man (who belonged to the tomatoes, or the man to whom the tomatoes belonged) arrived and was more than happy to sell us his tomatoes. We also bought some red onions and garlic. Back at SWI we got plenty of looks and questions when we headed into the kitchen to make our sauce. More than one person came in, and inquired as to what we were making, why we were making it and how we knew how to make it. It was entertaining answering everyone’s questions, and I rather enjoyed being in the kitchen (even though cooking in an Indian kitchen is very different from cooking in an American kitchen). We made the sauce and it was actually quite tasty, although some basil would have made it tremendous! We packed it up, with the flour and yeast and headed out to find cheese. The Fathers were all out today (which is why we were playing hookey, no one to notice☺), so we asked varying staff members where they thought we could by cheese. Sr. T gave us some directions we were not quite clear about, so we asked Gabriel, the accountant, who had been helpful with the package and post office adventure of the morning. Gabriel asked the servant, (I temporarily forgot his name, I know it starts with a J, shoot) who does all of the shopping where we could find cheese. He was very helpful and even said he would go out and get it for us. But we were insistent that this was our pizza and we would be fine going on our own. We were directed to what I have dubbed, the Wal-Mart of Raiganj. I don’t mean Wal-Mart and all of its horrible connotations; I mean that you can find anything there. It doesn’t look too much larger than the other shops, but I am convinced that behind the front counter there are miles of storage space containing everything you could ever imagine. They had cheese in suspicious square packages wrapped in foil about the size of four domino squares stacked in a pile of two by two. We bought 10 packages and I took particular notice of the larger package which read: Processed Cheese. Yum.
We took all of the ingredients and some of the toys and socks that came in the package to Chonditola. We played with the kids and the bouncy balls that arrived today. They had a blast with them, although there was some conflict being that there were 6 balls and more than 6 kids. But that has to be a normal conflict at a place like Chonditola, there are never enough for one for each kid, so sharing becomes something learned early on. I had a lot of fun playing around with the kids, and actually broke quite a sweat (although with the increasing temperatures that is not too difficult). After Chonditola we went to St. Xavier with Regina because they are the only place in town with a oven. We had no proper measuring utensils and so we guesstimated on everything. The dough was made first and then we put the sauce and the cheese on before putting into the oven. The oven had to be scooted across the floor and plugged in, but it got quite hot (although there was no way to control the temperature of the oven). We played with the kids from the hostel while the pizza cooked, and had a lot of fun played volleyball with a group of around 20 middle schoolers. We made one pizza for SWI, one for DDC and two for St. Xaviers. Although we ran out of cheese early, the dough with sauce was an acceptable alternate.
In the evening Puthumai arrived back from Kumarganj, and took me to Jonathon and Ruchicka’s house for dinner. I thought it would just be the five of us, but when we arrived we quickly learned that the evening was a going away celebration as Jonathon has a new job in Quatar and the family is leaving for Calcutta tomorrow. I was shocked, and I have to admit a little selfishly sad. I know that they are very excited for the move to a metropolitan city, but it is sad that I won’t be able to go and hang out at their house anymore. They have been very good friends to me while I have been in Raiganj. Since the package came today I was able to give Trisha her birthday present, a pink stuffed bunny in a tutu. (Although I unfortunately learned the other day that bunnies are commonly eaten in India and Germany. To make matters worse, in Germany they eat them on Easter) She really enjoyed the present and we had a very nice time chatting and eating a good dinner. Puthumai and I walked home and had a nice chat along the way.
Hopefully tomorrow I will do some work, because I am starting to feel as though I am experiencing life more than I am working. I am in India to learn, but I am most importantly in Indian to learn about development practices.
Sending love.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
2/15
I slept through mass today, which is surprising. My alarm didn’t even wake me. I woke up just in time for breakfast and was pleasantly surprised to find egg and carrots mixed in with the noodles. After breakfast Puthumai told me to get into the jeep. Usually I am not one to respond to commands, or if I do respond it is with questions. But I was feeling antsy so I hoped into the jeep. We first drove the MC Srs home and then went to DDC. A few weeks back DDC was swarming with newly born critters – from piglets to puppies (pictures to come soon). I especially enjoyed playing with one of the puppies (the only one of the liter to survive) and asked a few weeks ago what its name was. No one had named the puppy yet, so I took the responsibility upon myself. After much consideration I decided upon Sugar. I was initially teased about this name, the boys said that I was calling the puppy Stupid instead of Sugar. But I persisted with my name. I was pleasantly surprised today when we visited DDC and Puthumai called the puppy Sugar! The name has stuck, and if I do say so myself I think it is very fitting. Sugar is very friendly, she likes to nibble at fingers and toes and since she was the only surviving puppy she is getting quite chubby from drinking all of her mothers milk. She now comes when you call her name and when I whistle for her. I am extremely pleased with this development
After a few more errands with Puthumai we arrived back at SWI to find Hannah waiting for us. Hannah and I spent the morning running around Raiganj. We went to the bank, the fruit stand, and a few other shops. We bought yeast to make pizza/bread with, some bread flour and Special K cereal which we were both thrilled to find. From the fruit stands we purchased pomegranates and oranges. I also bought more minutes since Mom and I used up all but 1 rupee of my minutes yesterday. My favorite story of our morning was trying to get the rickshaw driver to pull over. We were running short on time and didn’t want to be late for lunch, so we took a rickshaw home. When we reached we were trying to get the driver to stop. I was gesturing with my hand and making noises while Hannah was yelling stop! It must have been quite a scene to witness. The driver heard us after an embarrassing 30 seconds and we exited the rickshaw. Hannah made fun of me for making so many noises, but I still stand that if someone doesn’t understand my English, then I have a better chance they will understand my noises.
After lunch we went the to cinema next door to SWI. The cinema changes movies every Friday and has an annoyingly loud generator that goes on whenever the power is out. We saw a movie called…oh I forgot the name. Well either way the movie was in Hindi and quite an experience if I do say so myself. First of all in India you buy a movie ticket for a specific seat and it costs different prices to sit in different areas. We sat in the balcony and it was pitch black. The screen was large and the building was nice, but Indian movie etiquette is extremely different, as are Hindi movies. The movie was progressing normally (with quite a lot of chatter from the surrounding crowd), it was about a barber and his family. Then all of a sudden their was a rocket ship flying through outerspace. Hannah and I book looked at each other! Had the reel broken and this was another movie? What was happening? The space ship landed in a strange larger space ship and a man got out. He started singing and dancing with women who were (by Indian standards) naked (they had on skin tight fake shiny leather looking outfits that consisted of boots, shorts, and bikini tops). The men in the back (and the theater was 80% men) started hooting and hollering. They were clapping and yelling and Hannah and I were still desperately confused. The scene ended up being music video, and the man in the rocket was a movie star whose character had an important role in the film. But the singing and dancing happened at least 5 times throughout the show, usually with very little reference to the plot. There was also an intermission to the movie which was 3 hours long (a common movie length in India) and people answered their cell phones very casually during the movie. It was quite an interesting cultural experience, although I can’t say I completely understood the plot of the film.
In the evening Hannah and I went to Chonditola, and were thrilled to find that Sleepy and Bird (two of my favorites) were smiling and playful. Bird also uttered the first noise that we have ever heard him say, he said num, it was very cute. Other good news, the little girl who has some physical and mental disabilities who has difficulty walking was walking today with very little assistance and was very playful and smiley. Smiley got a haircut and now looks like a boy and Hannah was peed on once. We played around with the particularly rambunctious kiddos and left without anyone shedding a single tear!
We went to the second night of the St. Xavier fair to eat more food and play more games. I say Pee-a-lee there, the little girl who helped translate at my first field visit my first week here. I chatted with her for a while, and discovered that her birthday is tomorrow. It was really great to see her and reminded me of how far I have come from that first week. After the lottery drawing at the fair (no one I know won anything) we all headed home. Dinner was uneventful, although I got an omelet without onions, so that was exciting.
Today Hannah and I rode the auto from Chonditola to St. Xavier while hanging on the back and Puthumai took me home on the back of his motorbike. Both times I though to myself how much I am going to miss India (because those two experiences are things that for me ‘only happen in India). There are a million things that I will miss (and knowing that Regina and Johannes will leave in a week makes the reality of leaving seem a lot closer). As my days in India continue to pass I hope that I am able to listen, learn and love with increasing commitment. And that I am never distracted again by counting days, because each one is such a blessing and the first, third, eighteenth or last are all of equal importance.
Sending love.
After a few more errands with Puthumai we arrived back at SWI to find Hannah waiting for us. Hannah and I spent the morning running around Raiganj. We went to the bank, the fruit stand, and a few other shops. We bought yeast to make pizza/bread with, some bread flour and Special K cereal which we were both thrilled to find. From the fruit stands we purchased pomegranates and oranges. I also bought more minutes since Mom and I used up all but 1 rupee of my minutes yesterday. My favorite story of our morning was trying to get the rickshaw driver to pull over. We were running short on time and didn’t want to be late for lunch, so we took a rickshaw home. When we reached we were trying to get the driver to stop. I was gesturing with my hand and making noises while Hannah was yelling stop! It must have been quite a scene to witness. The driver heard us after an embarrassing 30 seconds and we exited the rickshaw. Hannah made fun of me for making so many noises, but I still stand that if someone doesn’t understand my English, then I have a better chance they will understand my noises.
After lunch we went the to cinema next door to SWI. The cinema changes movies every Friday and has an annoyingly loud generator that goes on whenever the power is out. We saw a movie called…oh I forgot the name. Well either way the movie was in Hindi and quite an experience if I do say so myself. First of all in India you buy a movie ticket for a specific seat and it costs different prices to sit in different areas. We sat in the balcony and it was pitch black. The screen was large and the building was nice, but Indian movie etiquette is extremely different, as are Hindi movies. The movie was progressing normally (with quite a lot of chatter from the surrounding crowd), it was about a barber and his family. Then all of a sudden their was a rocket ship flying through outerspace. Hannah and I book looked at each other! Had the reel broken and this was another movie? What was happening? The space ship landed in a strange larger space ship and a man got out. He started singing and dancing with women who were (by Indian standards) naked (they had on skin tight fake shiny leather looking outfits that consisted of boots, shorts, and bikini tops). The men in the back (and the theater was 80% men) started hooting and hollering. They were clapping and yelling and Hannah and I were still desperately confused. The scene ended up being music video, and the man in the rocket was a movie star whose character had an important role in the film. But the singing and dancing happened at least 5 times throughout the show, usually with very little reference to the plot. There was also an intermission to the movie which was 3 hours long (a common movie length in India) and people answered their cell phones very casually during the movie. It was quite an interesting cultural experience, although I can’t say I completely understood the plot of the film.
In the evening Hannah and I went to Chonditola, and were thrilled to find that Sleepy and Bird (two of my favorites) were smiling and playful. Bird also uttered the first noise that we have ever heard him say, he said num, it was very cute. Other good news, the little girl who has some physical and mental disabilities who has difficulty walking was walking today with very little assistance and was very playful and smiley. Smiley got a haircut and now looks like a boy and Hannah was peed on once. We played around with the particularly rambunctious kiddos and left without anyone shedding a single tear!
We went to the second night of the St. Xavier fair to eat more food and play more games. I say Pee-a-lee there, the little girl who helped translate at my first field visit my first week here. I chatted with her for a while, and discovered that her birthday is tomorrow. It was really great to see her and reminded me of how far I have come from that first week. After the lottery drawing at the fair (no one I know won anything) we all headed home. Dinner was uneventful, although I got an omelet without onions, so that was exciting.
Today Hannah and I rode the auto from Chonditola to St. Xavier while hanging on the back and Puthumai took me home on the back of his motorbike. Both times I though to myself how much I am going to miss India (because those two experiences are things that for me ‘only happen in India). There are a million things that I will miss (and knowing that Regina and Johannes will leave in a week makes the reality of leaving seem a lot closer). As my days in India continue to pass I hope that I am able to listen, learn and love with increasing commitment. And that I am never distracted again by counting days, because each one is such a blessing and the first, third, eighteenth or last are all of equal importance.
Sending love.
2/14
We reached Raiganj late on Friday night, so Saturday morning I decided to sleep in. I woke up around 7:30am because Hannah was calling from the village. She was staying there for a few days and was calling to chat. After eating a lazy breakfast with Puthumai I discovered that the wireless Internet isn’t working anymore. I can still access the Internet from the office computer, but my laptop won’t connect until the connection is fixed (last time the ‘fixing process’ took 3 weeks). I ran to the phone store, bought some minutes, and spent the morning on the phone with Mom. I am excited to see what she thinks of the fabric I bought in Calcutta. I had an assignment due for my IDIP class (I wrote about the differences in dress and traffic), and so after speaking with Mom I finalized my assignment and posted it on the Internet. I also used the empty office to reply to quite a few emails, something that I will have much less time to do now that the wireless isn’t working. In the afternoon Hannah arrived back from the village and together we went to St. Xavier’s for their annual fair. The annual fair is a circle of booths set up around a large field, where students host fair type games. The money from ticket sales goes to support the social entrepreneurship of the school. There is also food available and music playing in the background. Quite a few people attend the fair, the students, their families and other community members looking for a night out. Puthumai shared some of his tickets with us, so Hannah and I played a few of the games. We had a good time and I was surprised at how many students I recognized from previous meetings. All of the students were very friendly and excited that we came to support their fair. Hannah and I spent some time chatting with Regina , Johannes and their friends. We attracted a lot of attention being 6 white people all standing together. Although Hannah and I saw an old white man walking down the road the other day, so we are unfortunately not the only 6 white people in Raiganj. Hannah and I snaked on some ice cold Sprite (the cold temperature being a luxury here) and some Lays potato chips called Spanish Tomato Tango, which are actually really good. We also had some of the local food, but I don’t know the name for any of it. Everything was really tasty. Puthumai took Hannah home on his motor bike and I took an auto home (DDC is down a long dark dirt road, and she didn’t want to walk down that alone). The auto ride home was fun. There were two families consisting of mothers and their small male children. They were leaving the fair as well, and I could tell that the boys were St. Xavier students. They were speaking in Bengali, and even though I don’t understand the language I knew that the mothers were trying to convince the sons to ask me what my time is and where I am from. The kids were being really shy and didn’t want to. Eventually one of the mothers asked if I spoke Bengali, I said no, only English. Then I looked at the boys, I asked if they were St. Xavier students, they nodded. I asked if they spoke English, they nodded. By this point the mothers were laughing. After a few minutes of conversation we had covered the basics, name, county, duration of travel, where I am staying and what I am doing. My favorite part was instead of waiting for the kids to ask me where I was from I asked them if they could guess what country I am from. They looked at me as though I was an alien. The youngest one said, you’re not from India? I don’t know how the mothers understood but they were laughing at the little boy. I explained to the little ones that I am from America, and they looked at me as though I was talking about another planet. They were only in class 2, so I understand their lack of understanding or world geography, but it made me think. When I say I am from America, what do most people think? What do the villagers think? What does an Indian think American society is like, and in what ways has politics influenced that conception. All very interesting questions that I will probably always have insufficient answers for, but the questions themselves are intriguing.
For dinner Puthumai and I had pork for the first time since I arrived in India. It was very good, although my lips were pink afterwards from the spiciness. The highlight of the evening was killing large amounts of mosquitoes with an electrical flyswatter. As the weather warms (oh yea, did I mention, the weather is getting much warmer as each day passes) the mosquitoes are multiplying like crazy! So zapping them with the swatter was very entertaining and a great way to laugh at the dance like motions required of large-scale mosquito massacring.
And on that note, Happy Valentines Day.
For dinner Puthumai and I had pork for the first time since I arrived in India. It was very good, although my lips were pink afterwards from the spiciness. The highlight of the evening was killing large amounts of mosquitoes with an electrical flyswatter. As the weather warms (oh yea, did I mention, the weather is getting much warmer as each day passes) the mosquitoes are multiplying like crazy! So zapping them with the swatter was very entertaining and a great way to laugh at the dance like motions required of large-scale mosquito massacring.
And on that note, Happy Valentines Day.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
2/12 & 13
I have never been more frustrated by a language barrier in my life. *Gritting teeth and growling*
Okay, now to start from the beginning. Puthumai and I went to meeting in Jalpiguri for a coalition of groups working on Community Based Disaster Preparedness (CBDP) projects. 12 hours round trip in the car and 24 hours in Jalpiguri. The meeting was all district coordinators running CBDP programs in different places around W. Bengal. The purpose of the meeting was to share progress and collaborate on a plan for the final year of the project. It felt like attending a class that I hadn’t read the text for. Oh yea, and the class wasn’t in English. It was also 8 hours long. I am not complaining, please don’t misunderstand my frustration as whining. I continuously kept repeating to myself, a positive outlook is key, a positive outlook is key. But regardless of my positivity I was frustrated with my own limitation, with my own inability to understand.
You see, I am an intelligent person. I know that sounds pompous, and that isn’t my intention. It is just that I have always able to contribute something in intellectual environments, or if I am not able to contribute, I am at least able to ask appropriate questions. As I sat through the meeting I understood just enough of what was being said to have no idea what was going on. There were a few people who very kindly translated for me, but the problem was they were participants in the meeting and they were more interested in what was being said than in translating it for me. I also feel as though translating is highly ineffective. I have the sneaking suspicion that 80 percent of what is said is actually lost in translation. For example, if the speaker says “There was a horrendous downpour and the villages were not able to coup with the level of rainwater,” the translated version is “He is talking about floods.” The meanings may be similar, but after 3 or 4 hours I didn’t want to hear similar meanings I wanted to hear what was actually being said.
The PowerPoints were in English, and that was helpful. That was probably the one (attention) saving grace of the weekend. Although the PowerPoints contained so many abbreviations that even as I was able to begin to formulate more complex thoughts about what was happening, I would hit a roadblock because I didn’t understand an abbreviation. By the time we left my jaw was sore from grinding my teeth in frustration.
But as we drove away I began to let go of the frustration. There is only so much that I will be able to understand here, and accepting limitations is humbling (that’s why it is so difficult). Frustration in and of itself is draining. It isn’t productive. As we drove into the night, I left my frustration in Jalpiguri and returned to Raiganj.
Okay, now to start from the beginning. Puthumai and I went to meeting in Jalpiguri for a coalition of groups working on Community Based Disaster Preparedness (CBDP) projects. 12 hours round trip in the car and 24 hours in Jalpiguri. The meeting was all district coordinators running CBDP programs in different places around W. Bengal. The purpose of the meeting was to share progress and collaborate on a plan for the final year of the project. It felt like attending a class that I hadn’t read the text for. Oh yea, and the class wasn’t in English. It was also 8 hours long. I am not complaining, please don’t misunderstand my frustration as whining. I continuously kept repeating to myself, a positive outlook is key, a positive outlook is key. But regardless of my positivity I was frustrated with my own limitation, with my own inability to understand.
You see, I am an intelligent person. I know that sounds pompous, and that isn’t my intention. It is just that I have always able to contribute something in intellectual environments, or if I am not able to contribute, I am at least able to ask appropriate questions. As I sat through the meeting I understood just enough of what was being said to have no idea what was going on. There were a few people who very kindly translated for me, but the problem was they were participants in the meeting and they were more interested in what was being said than in translating it for me. I also feel as though translating is highly ineffective. I have the sneaking suspicion that 80 percent of what is said is actually lost in translation. For example, if the speaker says “There was a horrendous downpour and the villages were not able to coup with the level of rainwater,” the translated version is “He is talking about floods.” The meanings may be similar, but after 3 or 4 hours I didn’t want to hear similar meanings I wanted to hear what was actually being said.
The PowerPoints were in English, and that was helpful. That was probably the one (attention) saving grace of the weekend. Although the PowerPoints contained so many abbreviations that even as I was able to begin to formulate more complex thoughts about what was happening, I would hit a roadblock because I didn’t understand an abbreviation. By the time we left my jaw was sore from grinding my teeth in frustration.
But as we drove away I began to let go of the frustration. There is only so much that I will be able to understand here, and accepting limitations is humbling (that’s why it is so difficult). Frustration in and of itself is draining. It isn’t productive. As we drove into the night, I left my frustration in Jalpiguri and returned to Raiganj.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
2/11
I spoke with M&D today for the first time in a week. It was great to see their faces and update them on all that has happened in the past few days. Even though I am not homesick, it is still nice to see them in the morning and tell them about the previous day. This way, when I come home it won’t be overwhelming to share my experience with them. I won’t feel as though I have changed and they are unable to understand the changes.
Today after class, Puthumai spent a few hours teaching Hannah and me about SWI as an organization. We learned about the steps involved in creating, implementing and reporting on a project. We also learned about the organizational structure (staffing, finance, etc) and the polices that regulate Indian non-profits. It was really interesting and informative. We also had Puthumai’s undivided attention for almost a complete 2 hours; he only answered his phone once! Which means that Hannah and I must be really important! ☺
I still wasn’t hungry today, I ate only a small portion of rice for lunch and a banana. Even though I have not been hungry, I don’t think I am sick. I just think that my body has had enough of rice and vegetables with spices, so it is going on protest. Unfortunately my body will soon learn that its feeble protests are no match for the unwavering insistence from many Indians that I eat more food.
After lunch Hannah and I went to the beauty parlor and had Mehndi done, or henna. We both have it on our left hands, and it took from 1 o’clock, until 4 o’clock! We had a lot of fun in the beauty parlor though, the women were all dressed in black pants and lime green t-shirts. At first it was a little strange sitting in a room full of Indian women dressed in Western clothes, when I am a Westerner dressed in Indian clothes. Even though the women didn’t speak English, we had fun joking around with them. They took quite a few pictures of us and Hannah and I joked that next week the photos will be large blown up advertisements for the beauty parlor. ☺ After returning home, we scraped off the dried Mehndi, a more difficult task than previously anticipated. Everyone who walked by commented on it and said we looked very nice.
It is Recollection tonight, which means that all of the Fathers go away. They leave at 7:30 in the evening and usually arrive back late the next morning. So we had dinner early. Hannah and I bought sausages in Calcutta (from a questionable sanitary sausage shop) and we wanted to cook them for dinner. We decided that with the Indian cooking methods available to us, that deep-frying them would be the best idea. Our first problem was deciding which container held the oil. We found one that looked like oil, but the bottle was not labeled so we were not certain. After requesting Puthumai’s assistance, we were on the right track to cooking our sausages. We lit the burner, which was also as adventure. Hannah lit it, and I hid behind a wall. Neither of us were certain whether or not the gas was on or not, we were both yelping and jumping around. Luckily the burner lit with no problem and our oil heated quickly. We plopped the sausages into the hot oil, at which point one of the cooks was in the kitchen, he laughed at us. Which happens often in India, but over time you learn to appreciate it. Someone can’t laugh at you, if you are laughing too, because then they are always laughing with you. While we were cooking sausages one of the staff members came into the kitchen to tell Hannah about her visit to the village in the next few days. He asked what we were cooking, and Hannah answered meat, while I answered chicken. Then ensued a large misunderstanding about what is meat and what is chicken. Puthumai later clarified this misunderstanding for us, saying that in villages, where meat is scarce, usually only mutton is referred to as meat. But needless to say, before the clarification, Hannah and I were having a hell of a time trying to explain ourselves. We both think that Mehndi has an side-effect of making everything especially funny, we have been laughing our asses off all afternoon. I had another discovery about English language misunderstandings today, Hannah asked me the other day for a word to describe the current condition of her hands. I told her clammy was the correct word. I realized today that she meant sticky and not clammy. The funny part is that for three or four days she has been using clammy as a way to describe her hands, when she really meant sticky. I have decided that this is quite a power to be able to control her understanding of English. A power I could use for good, or a power I could use for evil ☺
This evening I watched a program on TV about N. Eastern India and the militant groups and drug abuse there. India is such a large country and there are still so many parts of the country that I know nothing about. Even in Raiganj there are so many things I have yet to learn.
Then Puthumai came back from recollection, he read my blogs in front of me, which I hate; because it is so uncomfortable to have him read my thoughts while I am in the room. He knows that it bothers me, and probably does it because it bothers me. ☺ After he read my reflections on Calcutta, we had a discussion about poverty. He is helping me to understand the varying levels and kinds of poverty. The poverty in Calcutta is a visual poverty, you can see it very clearly; but the people in Calcutta are able to find work, they are able to survive. In the villages many people suffer silently, as they die from starvation and lack of other basic necessities. There is no survival there. In Calcutta, even though I know that the poverty is to a certain extent ‘decorative’ it is difficult to connect these logical thoughts with the gut reaction to the images I was seeing. In the villages I have experienced overwhelming generosity, and it is difficult for me to grasp the reality of such life threatening poverty. But that is the beauty of the village people; they have such generosity even though they literally have nothing. I know that there is a lot more understanding to come, as my time in Raiganj continues.
Today after class, Puthumai spent a few hours teaching Hannah and me about SWI as an organization. We learned about the steps involved in creating, implementing and reporting on a project. We also learned about the organizational structure (staffing, finance, etc) and the polices that regulate Indian non-profits. It was really interesting and informative. We also had Puthumai’s undivided attention for almost a complete 2 hours; he only answered his phone once! Which means that Hannah and I must be really important! ☺
I still wasn’t hungry today, I ate only a small portion of rice for lunch and a banana. Even though I have not been hungry, I don’t think I am sick. I just think that my body has had enough of rice and vegetables with spices, so it is going on protest. Unfortunately my body will soon learn that its feeble protests are no match for the unwavering insistence from many Indians that I eat more food.
After lunch Hannah and I went to the beauty parlor and had Mehndi done, or henna. We both have it on our left hands, and it took from 1 o’clock, until 4 o’clock! We had a lot of fun in the beauty parlor though, the women were all dressed in black pants and lime green t-shirts. At first it was a little strange sitting in a room full of Indian women dressed in Western clothes, when I am a Westerner dressed in Indian clothes. Even though the women didn’t speak English, we had fun joking around with them. They took quite a few pictures of us and Hannah and I joked that next week the photos will be large blown up advertisements for the beauty parlor. ☺ After returning home, we scraped off the dried Mehndi, a more difficult task than previously anticipated. Everyone who walked by commented on it and said we looked very nice.
It is Recollection tonight, which means that all of the Fathers go away. They leave at 7:30 in the evening and usually arrive back late the next morning. So we had dinner early. Hannah and I bought sausages in Calcutta (from a questionable sanitary sausage shop) and we wanted to cook them for dinner. We decided that with the Indian cooking methods available to us, that deep-frying them would be the best idea. Our first problem was deciding which container held the oil. We found one that looked like oil, but the bottle was not labeled so we were not certain. After requesting Puthumai’s assistance, we were on the right track to cooking our sausages. We lit the burner, which was also as adventure. Hannah lit it, and I hid behind a wall. Neither of us were certain whether or not the gas was on or not, we were both yelping and jumping around. Luckily the burner lit with no problem and our oil heated quickly. We plopped the sausages into the hot oil, at which point one of the cooks was in the kitchen, he laughed at us. Which happens often in India, but over time you learn to appreciate it. Someone can’t laugh at you, if you are laughing too, because then they are always laughing with you. While we were cooking sausages one of the staff members came into the kitchen to tell Hannah about her visit to the village in the next few days. He asked what we were cooking, and Hannah answered meat, while I answered chicken. Then ensued a large misunderstanding about what is meat and what is chicken. Puthumai later clarified this misunderstanding for us, saying that in villages, where meat is scarce, usually only mutton is referred to as meat. But needless to say, before the clarification, Hannah and I were having a hell of a time trying to explain ourselves. We both think that Mehndi has an side-effect of making everything especially funny, we have been laughing our asses off all afternoon. I had another discovery about English language misunderstandings today, Hannah asked me the other day for a word to describe the current condition of her hands. I told her clammy was the correct word. I realized today that she meant sticky and not clammy. The funny part is that for three or four days she has been using clammy as a way to describe her hands, when she really meant sticky. I have decided that this is quite a power to be able to control her understanding of English. A power I could use for good, or a power I could use for evil ☺
This evening I watched a program on TV about N. Eastern India and the militant groups and drug abuse there. India is such a large country and there are still so many parts of the country that I know nothing about. Even in Raiganj there are so many things I have yet to learn.
Then Puthumai came back from recollection, he read my blogs in front of me, which I hate; because it is so uncomfortable to have him read my thoughts while I am in the room. He knows that it bothers me, and probably does it because it bothers me. ☺ After he read my reflections on Calcutta, we had a discussion about poverty. He is helping me to understand the varying levels and kinds of poverty. The poverty in Calcutta is a visual poverty, you can see it very clearly; but the people in Calcutta are able to find work, they are able to survive. In the villages many people suffer silently, as they die from starvation and lack of other basic necessities. There is no survival there. In Calcutta, even though I know that the poverty is to a certain extent ‘decorative’ it is difficult to connect these logical thoughts with the gut reaction to the images I was seeing. In the villages I have experienced overwhelming generosity, and it is difficult for me to grasp the reality of such life threatening poverty. But that is the beauty of the village people; they have such generosity even though they literally have nothing. I know that there is a lot more understanding to come, as my time in Raiganj continues.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
2/10
Puthumai brought blankets from Seva Kendra for Hannah and myself. We were very thankful and warm on the train ride home. Although 8 hours of sleep on a train feels as though it only counts for 4 hours. We arrived in Raiganj on time, 6:45am, everyone was amazed at the trains promptness. We took an auto to SWI and after a quick shower and breakfast I was in front of my class. I had the class read a newspaper article today and summarize it for me, which was challenging for the students, but it seemed useful. After class, I was exhausted and Hannah and I took a nap in my bed. We woke up in time for lunch and then decided to run a few errands. We are going to get Mendi tomorrow, so we made an appointment, and then we picked up my new clothes from the tailor. Hannah needed sandals, and after about 15 stores we finally found a pair that fit her size 9/10 feet. Indian women have small feet, so most of the sizes are 4, 5 and 6. In the afternoon we went to Chonditola and had fun playing with the kids.
Puthumai left again today, he is visiting a friend who runs an old persons home about 3 hours away from here. He took a bus there and will leave tomorrow at 5am to arrive back here at 8am. I can’t understand how Puthumai can travel that much and not be utterly exhausted! But he keeps on going strong.
I didn’t eat dinner for the past two nights, and I took a very small lunch today. My stomach just isn’t hungry. Sometimes I feel for a few minutes like I am sick to my stomach, and I have been tired all day. Hopefully it isn’t anything much and will pass after a good nights sleep. I have been coughing quite a bit though, which is unfortuanate. I have worked really hard to cut dairy out of my diet again, and I am doing well at saying no to milk. Which is difficult because milk is considered a luxury here, and man hosts go out of their way to serve it to you. Refusing food in Indian is rude. Even without milk, I have still been coughing, I think it is the pollution and dust in Indian air. It isn’t painful and no where near as bad as last year, but I am keeping an eye on it and taking my inhaler when necessary.
Mom and Dad your package still hasn’t arrived. The Indian Post Office is holding hostage, until they feel they have had sufficient time to rifle though all of my things. I asked Puthumai today if we could go and demand they give us the package. He said no, which is unfortunate. I guess I will just have to keep waiting ☺ Sending my love.
Puthumai left again today, he is visiting a friend who runs an old persons home about 3 hours away from here. He took a bus there and will leave tomorrow at 5am to arrive back here at 8am. I can’t understand how Puthumai can travel that much and not be utterly exhausted! But he keeps on going strong.
I didn’t eat dinner for the past two nights, and I took a very small lunch today. My stomach just isn’t hungry. Sometimes I feel for a few minutes like I am sick to my stomach, and I have been tired all day. Hopefully it isn’t anything much and will pass after a good nights sleep. I have been coughing quite a bit though, which is unfortuanate. I have worked really hard to cut dairy out of my diet again, and I am doing well at saying no to milk. Which is difficult because milk is considered a luxury here, and man hosts go out of their way to serve it to you. Refusing food in Indian is rude. Even without milk, I have still been coughing, I think it is the pollution and dust in Indian air. It isn’t painful and no where near as bad as last year, but I am keeping an eye on it and taking my inhaler when necessary.
Mom and Dad your package still hasn’t arrived. The Indian Post Office is holding hostage, until they feel they have had sufficient time to rifle though all of my things. I asked Puthumai today if we could go and demand they give us the package. He said no, which is unfortunate. I guess I will just have to keep waiting ☺ Sending my love.
2/8 & 9
We took a baby auto to Seva Kendra, which is where I stayed the first night I arrived in India. It is like an SWI organization in Calcutta. We took cold showers, and had a really good breakfast of fried chapatis, (they had a name that starts with p) and hard-boiled eggs. After breakfast Hannah and I read in the sunlight and waited for Shupbra. She was our guide. Matias, a driver who used to be stationed at SWI, now stationed in Calcutta, drove us around for the day. Matias’s wife also came along. She is from a village near Raiganj and had never been out of the village. Our first outing was my favorie. We went to the Missionaries of Charity Mother House and saw Mother Teresa’s grave, the room where she died and an exhibition about her life. It was really powerful. We sat with one of the Sr.’s there, who is related to one of the SWI staff meembers. After that we went to St. Paul’s Cathedral, Victoria Memorial, stumbled across a massive communist party rally (the ruling party in W. Bengal), did some marketing, saw a museum and then went to Science City. It was quite the day of site-seeing. We had lunch at a local restaurant, it was mutton and rice. All in all the day was exhausting! The marketing was fun, although it sucks being a Westerner and getting cheated on prices where ever we go. Shupbra taught us some bargaining techniques, which came in handy as the day progressed.
I feel sick as the day progressed, it was hot, loud and I was dehydrated. I had a really bad headache and ended up staying in bed instead of going to dinner.
The next day we slept in, which was good, because after a sound nights sleep I felt much better. Then Hannah and I met Father Succi, who took us to a bank to exchange some money, and then across a famous bride in Calcutta. He took us out to lunch at a very fancy Chinese restaurant, and then dropped us off at New Market, a large market in Calcutta. We were alone for the first time in Calcutta! I bought some pashimas and some fabric for Mom’s quilt. After an hour of wandering around New Market and shopping we met up with Regina and Johannes who were in Calcutta picking up there friends from the airport. We spent the rest of the afternoon together and took a taxi home, just in time to pack and leave for the night train.
On the drive to the train we ran into horrible traffic. A jam in Calcutta means that you remain still for hours with cars, busses and motorcycles all around you. We decided to get out and walk down the street until we reached the end of the jam, otherwise we wouldn’t make the train. So we all (Hannah, Puthumai, Father Herman, who had arrived that morning, and me) schlepped our baggage over our shoulder and started speed walking down the streets of Calcutta. We speed walked for a km and a half, and then we began approaching what sounded like a large rally. Puthumai had heard about some violence earlier that day in the city. We avoided the large rally and headed down a side street. Finally we grabbed a baby auto and we were on our way to the train station. We made it just in time and settled into our beds early, as we were all very tired.
So there is the play by play of what happened in Calcutta. More importantly, here are my reflections on the trip. Calcutta is an assault on the senses. It is louder than Raiganj (which I didn’t think was possible) and much hotter too. The city is bright and full of over stimulating images. There are children begging carrying babies and persons who are disabled sitting on the side of the sidewalk. There are people in Western dress and white people. Hannah and I found ourselves staring at the white people. Calcutta alternates between smelling like feces, urine, fish and pollution. I have never breathed such polluted air in my life. I can’t describe to you the overwhelming sensation of a child pulling on your sleeve and motioning that they want money for food. Or the sensation of crossing traffic that seems more dangerous than a death penalty. Calcutta is more developed than Raiganj in so many places, but there are still others where the poverty is so raw, that it grips at your insides. The poverty is harsh, abrasive, and in your face. And at the same time, there are shops that rival US stores and people dressed as though they belong in the West. Hannah and I also noticed our ability to toughen up. In a city like Calcutta, being a Westerner, often means you get taken advantage of. And although I am sure we were cheated more than once, we also became more astutely aware of who was cheating us and how to fight back. We became aggressive with people following us around New Market trying to be our guides, we bartered with the shop owners over price and more than once walked away feeling successful. I guess in the end Calcutta made me exterior a little harder and my interior a lot softer.
I feel sick as the day progressed, it was hot, loud and I was dehydrated. I had a really bad headache and ended up staying in bed instead of going to dinner.
The next day we slept in, which was good, because after a sound nights sleep I felt much better. Then Hannah and I met Father Succi, who took us to a bank to exchange some money, and then across a famous bride in Calcutta. He took us out to lunch at a very fancy Chinese restaurant, and then dropped us off at New Market, a large market in Calcutta. We were alone for the first time in Calcutta! I bought some pashimas and some fabric for Mom’s quilt. After an hour of wandering around New Market and shopping we met up with Regina and Johannes who were in Calcutta picking up there friends from the airport. We spent the rest of the afternoon together and took a taxi home, just in time to pack and leave for the night train.
On the drive to the train we ran into horrible traffic. A jam in Calcutta means that you remain still for hours with cars, busses and motorcycles all around you. We decided to get out and walk down the street until we reached the end of the jam, otherwise we wouldn’t make the train. So we all (Hannah, Puthumai, Father Herman, who had arrived that morning, and me) schlepped our baggage over our shoulder and started speed walking down the streets of Calcutta. We speed walked for a km and a half, and then we began approaching what sounded like a large rally. Puthumai had heard about some violence earlier that day in the city. We avoided the large rally and headed down a side street. Finally we grabbed a baby auto and we were on our way to the train station. We made it just in time and settled into our beds early, as we were all very tired.
So there is the play by play of what happened in Calcutta. More importantly, here are my reflections on the trip. Calcutta is an assault on the senses. It is louder than Raiganj (which I didn’t think was possible) and much hotter too. The city is bright and full of over stimulating images. There are children begging carrying babies and persons who are disabled sitting on the side of the sidewalk. There are people in Western dress and white people. Hannah and I found ourselves staring at the white people. Calcutta alternates between smelling like feces, urine, fish and pollution. I have never breathed such polluted air in my life. I can’t describe to you the overwhelming sensation of a child pulling on your sleeve and motioning that they want money for food. Or the sensation of crossing traffic that seems more dangerous than a death penalty. Calcutta is more developed than Raiganj in so many places, but there are still others where the poverty is so raw, that it grips at your insides. The poverty is harsh, abrasive, and in your face. And at the same time, there are shops that rival US stores and people dressed as though they belong in the West. Hannah and I also noticed our ability to toughen up. In a city like Calcutta, being a Westerner, often means you get taken advantage of. And although I am sure we were cheated more than once, we also became more astutely aware of who was cheating us and how to fight back. We became aggressive with people following us around New Market trying to be our guides, we bartered with the shop owners over price and more than once walked away feeling successful. I guess in the end Calcutta made me exterior a little harder and my interior a lot softer.
2/7
Friday began with an early breakfast at DDC, mostly fruit, because Hannah is used to breakfast being sweet. Then we tried to get an auto to SWI. Unfortunately there were no autos on the street. We walked for a while, we passed St. Xavier and then finally an auto drove by! We reached SWI a little late, but if I haven’t explained yet, Indian time is different than American time. Schedules are a lot less important and begin late is more common than begin on time.
In the daytime hours I finished my project and emailed quite a few people at home. Hannah, Regina and I went out for South Indian food, at the restaurant in the back of the sweet shop. We had dosa and uttarpam. It was really good, the uttarpam is what we had last week after shopping with Regina and Johannes. The dosa was a savory thin fried pancake shaped in a triangle filled with vegetables and spices. The three of us went to Chonditola. And that was the first time that the kids cried when we left. It was heartbreaking. The two that I usually hold were the two that were crying. They are both pretty low energy, and the usually just like to snuggle in my arms. They are both around 3 years old. I shouldn’t hold them the whole time, because I think that is what causes the crying. But it is so hard, one of them just sits or stands around and looks so sleepy and the other one seems to be the one the older ones like to pick on. My heart had a lot of healing to do, after watching them stand there crying and holding up their arms as we walked away.
After Chonditola Hannah and I went with Regina to visit St. Xavier. We had a glass of water and exchanged some books. Then we went out to say hello to the kids. We chatted with a few of the older ones; they spoke wonderful English. And then the younger ones came over. They were in Kindergarten and I asked them if they could guess where I was from. They guessed India, then Germany, then they were lost. I told them I was from America and they started screaming and chasing a little one yelling America! Regina told me that they have nicknamed the one they were chasing America for some reason. It was amazing to see little kids with so much energy, because although some of the kids at Chonditola are active, quite a few seem very down. Which is understandable, considering that most of them are seriously ill or recovering from malnutrition. But it gave me hope that the kids at Chonditola, after some time, will heal and have as much energy as the kids at St. Xavier.
We left from SWI at 6pm and took a rickshaw to the train station. It was so awful watching the poor rickshaw driver try to pull Hannah, me and all of our luggage. But we finally made it! Hannah and I have come to the conclusion that Western women have larger feet, hips and chests, then Indian women. We are also taller with much longer legs.
We were on the sleep train, which means that we had beds, but no blankets. We spent a while chatting with Puthumai, it is always good to travel with Puthumai because it is the most of his undivided attention either of us ever gets ☺ After a wonderful dinner of mutton (which I just realized was goat) and chipati, we turned off the lights and fell asleep. It was chilly on the train and everyone woke up complaining of being cold. I think we all slept on the train, but train sleeping is usually in and out and pretty uncomfortable. But it is sleep nonetheless!
In the daytime hours I finished my project and emailed quite a few people at home. Hannah, Regina and I went out for South Indian food, at the restaurant in the back of the sweet shop. We had dosa and uttarpam. It was really good, the uttarpam is what we had last week after shopping with Regina and Johannes. The dosa was a savory thin fried pancake shaped in a triangle filled with vegetables and spices. The three of us went to Chonditola. And that was the first time that the kids cried when we left. It was heartbreaking. The two that I usually hold were the two that were crying. They are both pretty low energy, and the usually just like to snuggle in my arms. They are both around 3 years old. I shouldn’t hold them the whole time, because I think that is what causes the crying. But it is so hard, one of them just sits or stands around and looks so sleepy and the other one seems to be the one the older ones like to pick on. My heart had a lot of healing to do, after watching them stand there crying and holding up their arms as we walked away.
After Chonditola Hannah and I went with Regina to visit St. Xavier. We had a glass of water and exchanged some books. Then we went out to say hello to the kids. We chatted with a few of the older ones; they spoke wonderful English. And then the younger ones came over. They were in Kindergarten and I asked them if they could guess where I was from. They guessed India, then Germany, then they were lost. I told them I was from America and they started screaming and chasing a little one yelling America! Regina told me that they have nicknamed the one they were chasing America for some reason. It was amazing to see little kids with so much energy, because although some of the kids at Chonditola are active, quite a few seem very down. Which is understandable, considering that most of them are seriously ill or recovering from malnutrition. But it gave me hope that the kids at Chonditola, after some time, will heal and have as much energy as the kids at St. Xavier.
We left from SWI at 6pm and took a rickshaw to the train station. It was so awful watching the poor rickshaw driver try to pull Hannah, me and all of our luggage. But we finally made it! Hannah and I have come to the conclusion that Western women have larger feet, hips and chests, then Indian women. We are also taller with much longer legs.
We were on the sleep train, which means that we had beds, but no blankets. We spent a while chatting with Puthumai, it is always good to travel with Puthumai because it is the most of his undivided attention either of us ever gets ☺ After a wonderful dinner of mutton (which I just realized was goat) and chipati, we turned off the lights and fell asleep. It was chilly on the train and everyone woke up complaining of being cold. I think we all slept on the train, but train sleeping is usually in and out and pretty uncomfortable. But it is sleep nonetheless!
2/6
I am writing these next three entries on Tuesday the 10th. It is surprising how much memory can be washed away in a few days. I will retell these days to the best of my ability, but I will forewarn against stories mistold and memories forgotten. Thursday morning began with breakfast and class, the usual. Class is going well, although I am starting to sputter in my lessons. I need some new ideas and methods. Hopefully if I give it some time, I can get the creative juices flowing.
Tangent: These past weeks have shown me how many idioms there are in the English language. I often find myself explaining these to Hannah or a student in my class. It is so interesting to think of how colloquial the English language is. Tangent done.
This was the last day of the quarterly meeting and so after class I took an auto over to DDC to hear the closing speeches. I was very proud of myself, as this was my first time making it to DDC alone. DDC is about 6-8 km away from SWI. On the way there I was the only one in the auto, I was slightly worried that I had missed some social taboo, and my auto was for some reason an outcast. I was luckily incorrect in my worries, when I reached, Hannah told me that usually by the time the autos make it out to Mission Moore, they are empty. Unfortunately right after I arrived Father called me and told me not to come, the meeting was over. So I hoped right back into the jeep and drove back to DDC.
Puthumai’s brother was in an accident the morning before and was badly hurt. He was on a motorbike and was hit by another vehicle. Puthumai has not said anything very hopeful about his brother condition, and I ask that you all keep him and his family in your prayers.
In the afternoon I finished a serious chunk of my project and was able to chat online with Ajla and Stephanie. It is good to speak with people from home, although it is difficult at times. It feels like there is too much to say and nowhere near enough time to say it. I feel as though I am failing at being a good friend, because I am so out of touch with everyone’s struggles and joys. But it always helps to see smiling faces at home. Then a quick lunch and Hannah and I were off to Chonditola. I had packed my overnight bag, because Hannah, Regina and I were going to have a ladies night that evening. After Chonditola, Regina had a few classes to teach, and Hannah and I began our mission of stocking up on junk food, soda and sweets for the evening. On our drive home our auto broke down, the front wheel became flat and we had to walk the rest of the way. Luckily we were pretty close, but it was very funny seeing the auto drivers attempting to communicate to us that we had to get out and walk.
We were easily able to find the toffees that Hannah likes and the potato chips that I like. We also bought some fried dal (which is kind of like salted nuts) and then began searching for Coca-Cola. We asked every stand in Mission Moore (the intersection off of DDC) if they had any. They either shook their heads or brought out something that was not soda. We went back to DDC and asked Sr. Sarita where we could by it. She told us we had to go back to Raiganj. So we hopped in an auto (mind you this is our 3rd trip out stocking up on supplies) and we were off to find the soda. Once we found the hotel that sold the soda, Hannah decided she wanted to try fried brinjol (green eggplant). We bought a brinjol on the way home, and were happy to find Sr. Sarita and Sr. Philo waiting for us in the dining room. We asked if we could request the servants make fried brinjol for dinner. The Sisters told us that we needed special flour to make the brinjol. So we were off again. We went to a local shop in Mission Moore and asked for the kind of flour we wanted. They looked at us, and pointed around the store. They wanted us to show them what we wanted. This would have been a great idea except we had no idea what this flour looked like, and there were 5 bins of flour looking stuff in the shop. Finally we decided on one, and took it home, hoping we had found the correct one, and we didn’t have to venture out again. Well we were successful!
For dinner that night we had fried brinjol, and lots of other delicious food. Regina arrived just after dinner. We went up to Hannah room, which has three twin size beds and we began our night. We listened to German music, because Regina broke her MP3 player the first month into her trip here. We continued to eat, chat, sing and dance. Then we turned on Dirty Dancing. Overall it was a really great night, and all three of us thoroughly enjoyed ourselves ☺
Tangent: These past weeks have shown me how many idioms there are in the English language. I often find myself explaining these to Hannah or a student in my class. It is so interesting to think of how colloquial the English language is. Tangent done.
This was the last day of the quarterly meeting and so after class I took an auto over to DDC to hear the closing speeches. I was very proud of myself, as this was my first time making it to DDC alone. DDC is about 6-8 km away from SWI. On the way there I was the only one in the auto, I was slightly worried that I had missed some social taboo, and my auto was for some reason an outcast. I was luckily incorrect in my worries, when I reached, Hannah told me that usually by the time the autos make it out to Mission Moore, they are empty. Unfortunately right after I arrived Father called me and told me not to come, the meeting was over. So I hoped right back into the jeep and drove back to DDC.
Puthumai’s brother was in an accident the morning before and was badly hurt. He was on a motorbike and was hit by another vehicle. Puthumai has not said anything very hopeful about his brother condition, and I ask that you all keep him and his family in your prayers.
In the afternoon I finished a serious chunk of my project and was able to chat online with Ajla and Stephanie. It is good to speak with people from home, although it is difficult at times. It feels like there is too much to say and nowhere near enough time to say it. I feel as though I am failing at being a good friend, because I am so out of touch with everyone’s struggles and joys. But it always helps to see smiling faces at home. Then a quick lunch and Hannah and I were off to Chonditola. I had packed my overnight bag, because Hannah, Regina and I were going to have a ladies night that evening. After Chonditola, Regina had a few classes to teach, and Hannah and I began our mission of stocking up on junk food, soda and sweets for the evening. On our drive home our auto broke down, the front wheel became flat and we had to walk the rest of the way. Luckily we were pretty close, but it was very funny seeing the auto drivers attempting to communicate to us that we had to get out and walk.
We were easily able to find the toffees that Hannah likes and the potato chips that I like. We also bought some fried dal (which is kind of like salted nuts) and then began searching for Coca-Cola. We asked every stand in Mission Moore (the intersection off of DDC) if they had any. They either shook their heads or brought out something that was not soda. We went back to DDC and asked Sr. Sarita where we could by it. She told us we had to go back to Raiganj. So we hopped in an auto (mind you this is our 3rd trip out stocking up on supplies) and we were off to find the soda. Once we found the hotel that sold the soda, Hannah decided she wanted to try fried brinjol (green eggplant). We bought a brinjol on the way home, and were happy to find Sr. Sarita and Sr. Philo waiting for us in the dining room. We asked if we could request the servants make fried brinjol for dinner. The Sisters told us that we needed special flour to make the brinjol. So we were off again. We went to a local shop in Mission Moore and asked for the kind of flour we wanted. They looked at us, and pointed around the store. They wanted us to show them what we wanted. This would have been a great idea except we had no idea what this flour looked like, and there were 5 bins of flour looking stuff in the shop. Finally we decided on one, and took it home, hoping we had found the correct one, and we didn’t have to venture out again. Well we were successful!
For dinner that night we had fried brinjol, and lots of other delicious food. Regina arrived just after dinner. We went up to Hannah room, which has three twin size beds and we began our night. We listened to German music, because Regina broke her MP3 player the first month into her trip here. We continued to eat, chat, sing and dance. Then we turned on Dirty Dancing. Overall it was a really great night, and all three of us thoroughly enjoyed ourselves ☺
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