Planet Bollywood

With 800 rupees, we could buy all sorts of useful things like... love!

2008-06-18T06:25:00.000-07:00

I am in England now and am going through some reverse culture shock alongside my jet lag. I think that reserve culture shock involves things you are surprised by and notice suddenly in a familiar culture that before you wouldn't have looked twice at. Also it can be missing things from the experience you just had, such as friends or food or cultural aspects, and wanting to tell people about it but getting the impression that they don't really want to know beyond "How was India?" "Good.." "Cool." So far what I am characterizing as reverse culture shock has been more surprising and interesting more than shocking, and indeed much of it has been rather pleasant surprises rather than things that have made me feel out of place or disturbed.

Reverse culture shock/observations:

-EVERYONE says "to be fair" - all my British friends, and often, more so than me!!! (Lily and Shlayma always made fun of how often I said that)

-You can drink tap water! You can cook with tap water! You can wash a tomato and eat it even if there is still water residue on it!

-I spent 10 pounds on my first meal here, which is $20, which is 800 rupees.

-My friend described another girl as "stark raving bonkers." gotta love it.

-Electric tea kettles! Tea quickly! Tea English style!

-Getting used to not being afraid of any kind of physical contact with the opposite sex - hugs, brushing, just in general not having taboos about accidental contact.

-Mini skirts! So much skin showing! People making out in clubs! These things have actually been the most shocking for me.

-Left hand usage - getting used to using my left hand.

-Feet - I'm afraid of offending people with my feet, and am feeling offended by other people's feet.

-There's toilet paper everywhere! I don't have to bring it in my purse! Amazing.

-Lettuce! Sweet beautiful lettuce! Not just in salads - as sides with other dishes! Wow!!!!

-And in England - sunset around 10:30pm! Holy shit! In India it gets dark around 6-7!

-I had a conversation with an Indian about culture and Indian food and we made each other food and I felt a strong identity with him, like we really understood where we were both coming from.

Last day

2008-06-07T06:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my last day at my NGO. I wore my purple saree for the occasion with gold sparkly bangles that got sparkles all over everything I went near, much to the amusement of my coworkers.

We had a meeting with all the staff and bosses in which I spoke about my time as a volunteer and my supervisor talked about my work. They thanked me graciously for my time spent there and presented me with a Hyderabad freshwater pearl necklace with earrings and a hardcover coffee table book of my favorite book that they publish, Womanscape. The mini ceremony was followed by a wonderful catered lunch. I said goodbye to all my coworkers at the end of the day and promised not to forget them.

Today Shlayma, Lily and I are cleaning our flat and packing our bags. It's amazing how much stuff I acquired when I came here with only a backpackers backpack and a bookbag.

Tomorrow we take a 26 hour train to Delhi, where we will have our final AJWS retreat. Then I go to Britain for two weeks, then Serbia for a week. I will do my best to post during this month of travel.

On white privilege

2008-06-04T21:57:00.000-07:00

I never thought I had an identity as a white person before, or with other white people, but in India you smile at other white people on the street. Everyone stares at you because you are white, especially if you are white and blond, or wearing Western clothes (I get stared at so much more in Western clothes, and auto drivers try to rip me off much more, than when I'm wearing Indian clothes). I have never felt more like a "white person"... In India, it doesn't matter if you don't like to identify as white, or you identify as "Jewish"... here people look at you, and you are white. So people try and rip you off and beggars target you and follow you for kilometers and boys assume you are easy like the women in Hollywood movies (like, really easy)... I'm not complaining. I know this is just a specific context of white privilege, getting harassed by vendors and beggars and boys and getting stared at by everyone, a result of being rich, though I'm not rich by American standards, I'm rich by virtue of being able to have afforded coming to this country, or go to another country outside of my own. This is the 'price' I say for having white privilege, for being from a country with world class medical care, a high standard of living, being able to afford (or in my case, arrange for a fellowship to pay for me) to go abroad....

Signs

2008-06-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

Hyderabad

Bangkok airport

Mmmm sharkfin.. Bangkok

Hostel in Bangkok, Thailand

Do not point your feet to the Buddha.... Bangkok

Does anyone think this building is a bit extravagant? Bangkok

Organic coffee, tea, body piercing, massage
Varanasi, India

At a mosque in Hyderabad

Ithaca, NY

Boston

I'm having an arranged marriage..

2008-05-30T04:33:00.000-07:00

And probably so are you.

I gave a presentation today at work on women's issues in America. I offered to do this since I am leaving in 2 weeks, and thought it might be interesting to give them my perspective on my country. I went around the office and asked everyone what they were interested in knowing about the USA, and got a variety of interesting responses. Here were some of the responses:

*Patriarchy - does it exist in America? Can you see the structures?
*sex - is there a double standard for women to be virgins at marriage, where men are allowed to be promiscuous?
*Is there domestic violence in the USA?
*How does one deal with sexual harassment?
*Why hasn't America ratified CEDAW? (Conventions on the Elimination of all forms of Discrimination of Against Women)
*Do men actually help out with domestic chores like in the movies?

I gave my hour-long PowerPoint presentation today after lunch to the whole office. Afterwards, one of the bosses challenged me on my claim that arranged marriages are considered foreign and old fashioned in America, and that we only have love (or some sort of choice) marriages. She was completely justified in doing so.

College is like one big arranged marriage pool. Sure, if you meet someone there you are "choosing" your partner, but the cost of the college and caliber of education (and the kind of people who are able to enter that type of institution) are most likely to be like you. Most people at my university were in a similar socio-economic class, and most of them were white Americans. While I feel that I can marry anyone I want, and since I have groovy parents who will accept anyone I want, and since I live in MA I can even marry someone of the same sex... I'm not likely to meet that many people who aren't a lot like me. If I meet someone from another race or religion, their family might not accept me. I know several people of diverse races and religions who would not marry outside of their race/religion (Jews who will only date Jews; blacks who will only date blacks; etc). If I meet someone who is rich, their family might not want them to marry me because I'm not rich (relatively speaking in America). If I meet someone who is poor... well, I probably won't. I don't know a lot of poor people in America. I don't have many friends whose family would likely qualify as lower class. So my chances of meeting, and "choosing" to marry people who are very different than me, isn't that likely. So sure, I may meet someone and choose to marry them.. but there is definitely an 'arranged' aspect to it.

This rikshaw is going straight to hell!

2008-05-29T09:50:00.000-07:00

People assume that we are Christian because we are white. They assume we eat meat (that we love meat, actually) and that we worship Christ. Many times I have had people ask me if I am Christian, or rather say, "I'm Christian, too". This happened a lot around Christmas; everywhere I went, people were wishing me merry Christmas. Obviously this happens in the USA too, but Christmas is much less of a big deal in India where only about 2% of the population are of the Christian faith. Several months ago, a take away restaurant opened near our flat. We often buy food there as it is cheap, yummy, and convenient. The older woman working there doesn't speak a word of English. Once when I was there, she began pointing to herself and then to me, and I couldn't understand what she was asking or indicating. Finally she said "Christ" and I realized she was crossing herself. I said "no, not Christian" but I don't think she understood. On our first day in Hyderabad, a coworker of my roommate who had been assigned to take us shopping proudly exclaimed that he was also Christian. We told him we were Jewish, and he told us he knew a Jewish church and that Jews worship the devil. We told him he must have been thinking of someone else (and, as much as that may be a common myth in some parts of the world about Jews, I think he really was thinking of someone/something else, because almost no one who I've talked to has an understanding about what a Jew is). (Months later, I saw this same person at the lake and he told me that when he visits America he will tell my parents about the love of Jesus.)

When people assume I am Christian, I try and explain that I am not Christian, but Jewish - and no, Judaism is not a form of Christianity, like Presbetarian or Protestant. Then I get asked, "Who is your God?" "What is his name?" This question always stumps me. I try to explain that we use the old Testiment while Christians use the old and new; or I say that Muslims and Jews feel that they are descended from one of Abraham's sons. However, with the lack of knowledge about Judaism combined with the language barrier and the fact that I frequently talk too fast for even fluent English speakers to understand my accented American English, I often resort to saying that my god is the father of Jesus (qualifying that with "we don't worship Jesus, though").

Perhaps it's better not to correct people - people seem to have some sort of happiness in identifying themselves with me/us as Christians, and I have definitely seen disappointment in the eyes of a neighbor, several shopkeepers, and random people when I have said, "sorry, not Christian." I'm not trying to disappoint people, but I'm also not trying to misrepresent myself.

Religion is a complex topic in the state of India, one which lots of people's time, daily lives, marriages, eating habits, and sometimes violent and political conflicts revolve around. People often mention the differences between Pakistan and India, but the differences within India - both with people of different religions as well as different castes within Hinduism - can cause conflict. The Gujarat riots of 2002 were based on Muslim-Hindu conflicts. Although India is a secular state, some policies are religiously based - for example, there are some housing restrictions based on vegetarianism in Mumbai (among other places) and the Supreme Court upheld this segregation, saying it was not direct discrimination based on religion or caste (despite the fact that the rationale for the segregation was based on Hindu vegetarianism and discriminates on Muslim, Christian, non vegetarian Hindus, and other religions).

Because vegetarianism is so strongly associated with Hinduism here, no one can understand that I'm vegetarian, or why. At a festival I walked to the buffet table marked "vegetarian buffet", only to have a random man run up to me and say "Madame! The non veg is over there!" (to which I rudely replied thank you, this sign is in English and therefore I can read it. OK, I admit it, I'm pretty humorless about my vegetarianism. Get used to it.) They all assume that Westerners love meat, and want to eat lots of it. They are very confused by the idea of someone white being vegetarian (though funnily enough, half the fellows on my program are some form of vegetarian). I don't know that much about vegetarianism in Hinduism, but I know that traditionally upper caste, especially Brahmin caste people, would be vegetarian. Muslims are traditionally Hallel (they don't eat certain kinds of meat; sort of like Kosher). Christians seem to have no religious dietary restrictions.

A few months ago, my friend Lauren and I were taking an auto to my house around noon from near the train station. A random Indian man insisted on helping us wave one down. He took us across the street, demanded that a driver take us for metered cost only - and then got in the auto with us. We assumed he was trying to get a free ride to our neighborhood, and tried not to cringe at his boisterous conversation. Finally he brought up religion, and said that he was taking us to our neighborhood because he was a good Christian and he loved Jesus. We looked straight forward, hoping not to burst this mans bubble, but when he finally finished his speech about Jesus and asked us what church we go to, Lauren quickly said, "I don't go to church, I'm not Christian." He looked pained and we tried to explain that we were Jewish. Not understanding, he asked if we were Muslim, and we said no, Jewish. He had been talking nonstop since we entered the auto, but after we dropped the Jewish bombshell a sudden eerie silence took over the auto. Lauren leaned over and whispered, "This rikshaw is going straight to hell!"

Holi and Purim

2008-05-28T00:06:00.000-07:00

Holi is the Indian festival of colors and marks the triumph of good over evil. It took place on March 22nd. It is celebrated widely in the North and less in the South. However, our friends here made sure we had a good time. We had 6 people staying with us - 4 other AJWS fellows and two people sent here by Shlayma's family who happened to be traveling in India. We invited everyone for the long weekend. Friday we had off from work due to it being Good Friday, which coincided with the Jewish holiday Purim. Friday night we had a Purim party; Saturday we played Holi. We were quite impressed that we were able to keep everyone fed and find places for 9 people to sleep in our 2 bedroom flat.

Purim involves reading the Megillah (the story of the hidden miracle of Queen Esther). Traditionally Purim involves dressing up in costumes.

Shlayma was Kali, the Hindi goddess of death and destruction.

Aaron didn't have a costume, so we put him in my saree and made him a hijra. The highlight of the evening was when the biryani arrived and he started doing the hijra clap in the face of a bewildered and highly amused delivery boy.

Leah was the Telugu 4 questions; Yoni was a porter.

Lauren was pollution.

Shlayma believes that Purim is all about controversy. Thus, I felt justified that my Feminazi costume was at least sort of appropriate.

Lily the Holy Cow; me the Feminazi; Shlayma as Kali

group photo

Still recovering from Purim the night before, we awoke on Holi morning and got dressed in our worst clothes. When we first stepped outside we were chased by a group of multicolored people - people who were unidentifiable due to being covered in florescent colored powder. We escaped and bought some white shirts at the 25 Rupee store in our neighborhood, then took autos to our friends house.

Everywhere we went on Holi, we saw people covered in colors standing on the street, riding around on motorbikes, hanging out of autos, and various landscapes covered in pink or red, evidence of an earlier color war.

My neighbors

At first we were playing friendly, putting powder on each others shirts and faces, but then Kiba found the bucket and began chasing people with full buckets of color powdered water. "Playing Holi" was so unbelievably fun, like the best game you played when you were a kid, a giant colored powder and colored water fight.

Gender and development

2008-05-27T01:00:00.000-07:00

A friend: I'm not sure why development programs can't be gender-neutral. How are programs that promote the development of democratic institutions, universal suffrage, and equitable access to education, medical care, and social insurance gender-specific?

Well...

It's not to say that some development programs can't be gender neutral. There are definitely programs that would work for the benefit of many people, regardless of gender and other factors. It depends what you are targeting, and what cultural and community norms and constraints may exist.

But to be specific... Equitable access to education is a perfect example, and could go either way. Let's take India. There is unequal access to education because of caste and class. People who are higher caste and (usually subsequently) class have better access to eduction for a variety of reasons. In trying to change this, there are various reservation (like affirmative action) systems in place in universities and lower forms of education. So here, the issue is lack of access to schools and fair education, sometimes lower castes being banned from schools, people being unable to afford schools with fees, not getting good grades because their family's economic situation demands that they work in the fields/help at home and puts constrains on their time studying and attending class, dalit ('untouchable' caste) children being forced to clean toilets or sweep cafeteria and classrooms in regular schools, or even being threatened or beaten up or killed for attending the same school as upper caste people (or accidentally touching an upper caste classmate)... you get the idea. So, in this case, perhaps an approach to access to education should be largely gender neutral.

However, another huge problem in lack of access to education is gender specific. Girls are not given equal access to education as boys in India. They are forced to stay at home and do house chores, take care of their siblings, cook clean sew etc with their mothers. While boys can help with chores too (say working in the fields or more male specific chores), it is considered much more important for a boy to be educated than a girl, so while it might be useful to keep him home too, his perceived need for education trumps that of the girl, or the usefulness of him staying home to help with chores. This is for several reasons that when looked at from a societal values point of view make sense, and are difficult to target for change.

When boys grow up, they most likely will marry. (Traditionally, and in the majority of cases today) boys live with their parents, bringing their wife to live in their house when they marry. They continue to live there and work and have a family, and all live together in one house. They work and support the whole big multi generational family. Education, therefore, will contribute to the boy having a better job, which will make him more money with which to support his wife, children, and also his parents. He can also marry better, and demand higher dowry since he education will help him make more money at his job and thus he is a good catch. A boys education therefore has a lot of importance.

When girls grow up, the most likely will marry. Most marriages are arranged, within the same caste and group (e.g. Andhra Pradesh / Telugu Brahmins are a lot different than Tamil Brahmins). Dowry is nearly always a factor, and often is a/the primary factor. Dowry is given to the family of the husband by the family of the bride, the amount depending on what they bargain or decide in the arrangement, and based on how pretty or *fit* the girl is, how old, how tall, how good the family is (honorability and mishaps of any and all extended family from both sides is taken into account during the matching process, and if the families want to merge..). Families pay large sums of money - farmers or shoemakers or fruit vendors might pay a lakh (hundred thousand) rupees dowry for their daughter - their life savings, and then some. Families need to save up forever, and often go into debt, for dowry and wedding costs (Indian weddings are over the top - my friends went to one and were given beautiful sarees as gifts, as were all the female guests, probably hundreds). Aside from bringing up problems about female infanticide or sex selective abortion as a result of this (and other - I can go into the "mandatory son" factor another time, if you like) practice, this practice contributes to parents wanting to keep their daughter out of school. They might not want to spend school fees or buy uniforms on a girl. They have proverbs that say "raising a daughter is like watering a neighbors plant" - you spend 16 or 18 or 24 years raising her and feeding her, and then she marries, you spend a ton on the dowry so she can marry well (for your daughter's sake, and for your family to be honorable / gain higher status - the idea of sending your daughter to the US as a bride is great bragging rights for a family), and she goes and lives with another family and cooks and cleans for them and takes care of them. School fees, as well as extra food, are often seen as simply an unnecessary investment, paling in comparison to the usefulness of having a girl stay home and help with household and family chores.

These "gendered" problems, lack of access to education for girls, are exacerbated within the "gender neutral" problems, meaning that lower caste lower class girls have higher instances of not being given access to education, for the various reasons that cause this in the first place. So in this case, the gendered approach is also important in the supposed non gendered issues. (I won't go into the various and horrific way that lower castes are oppressed - and the various issues that are women specific - dalit women have a similar history of sexual exploitation by upper caste men to that of black slave women and white plantation owners in the US.)

I asked at work just now and they told me that a more educated girl is preferred because this can help raise the status of the family she is marrying into. This also can mean that the dowry amount is decreased for an educated woman because she is more valuable/desirable (my friend's family keeps asking him if he wants a pretty girl or money). However, it takes money to send a girl to school, and it detracts from them helping with chores. Also the culture attitude often holds the mentality that educating a girl is not very important, especially higher education, because she will probably become a wife and mother and not hold a "real" job.

Class also comes into play here, as does rural vs urban, but a lot of the obstacles stay the same. Even in rich high caste families, is it custom that the wife moves in with the husband's family. Higher class families have less chores, or can afford maids and cooks and servants, so a richer girl is probably more likely to have access to more education. However the mentality says that once a girl marries she should drop out of school (if she is still studying, whether in 10th standard or college or university).

I must point out that this whole process creates a culture that often makes girls very undesirable - girls are killed, neglected, malnourished, and sex selective abortion is prevalent. This creates more gender specific problems, whether from a development perspective or otherwise (such as trafficking of girls to states with higher instances of sex selective abortions and female infanticide owing to a lack of enough women to be brides, and also contributing to a lower age of marriage, which means even less time for education since the vast majority of women drop out of education once they marry... you get the idea).

So in conclusion... development, or any kind of programs that target access to education in India, are looking at strong gendered factors, cultural norms that are deeply ingrained in and largely part of society. There are some aspects that you can tackle, like abolishing the caste system (ha), that would help make education access more equal, but it's important for development programs to be aware of the gendered ways that problems are faced differently by men and women, and thus development efforts need to be shaped accordingly. Girls in India are blocked from education because of gender factors, and these need to be targeted - thus the necessity of a gender and development perspective, not just plain development.

Or a shorter version could be: Access to education in India is gendered. Thus, so must be (some) development efforts.

People always talk about the weather

2008-05-27T00:30:00.000-07:00

Partly Cloudy
106°F
Feels Like
104°F
Updated: May 27 02:40 p.m. Local Time
UV Index:
5 Moderate
Wind:
From NW at 12 mph
Humidity:
18%
Pressure:
29.71 in.
Dew Point:
54°F
Visibility:
5.0 miles
Sunrise:
5:11 AM
Sunset:
6:15 PM

Source- weather.com

Hyderabad has a dry heat, which for me is completely bearable. I keep waiting for it to get too hot, and it never comes. I've gotten used to waking up in a pool of sweat, having my maid wash my sheets and pillow case often (and them still smelling like sweat), occasionally waking up in the middle of the night overheated and realizing that the fan is off because the power is off... Dry heat doesn't bother me! When I visited Sri Kakulam which is on the water, and Chennai which is south and also is on the ocean, I had a lot of trouble dealing with the heat since it was so freaking humid... I guess when I go to Jaipur the second week of June I will have a real test of heat since Jaipur is one of the hottest places in India and we will be there at one of the hottest times in the Indian year... For now, though I'll be happily enjoying the beautiful weather in Hyderabad! Unless the monsoon comes early... (supposedly it begins the second or third week in June, but may begin a bit early, which will mean crazy rains and too much humidity...)

The things that people carry on their heads in India never cease to amaze me.

2008-05-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

A case for vegetarianism

2008-05-21T11:33:00.000-07:00

On speaking Telugu

2008-05-15T22:04:00.001-07:00

Last night my roommates and I went to dinner at Fusion 9, a posh restaurant in Banjara Hills, for the birthday of their coworker and fellow AJWS volunteer (not a World Partners Fellowship volunteer) Lisa's birthday. Meg and Deepa, other SAATHI volunteers, also joined us for the dinner.

We ordered Western dishes that we have been missing sorely, such as Salad (Lily ordered a goat cheese, mandarin orange and pine nut salad), pasta (me and Lisa got penne with sundried tomatoes and artichoke in a white wine sauce while Meg got stuffed mannicotti) and Middle Eastern appetizers (two plates with humous, pita bread, baba ganoush and taboli). We talked, we sang happy birthday, we ate cake. We played mad libs.

While Deepa, who arrived in India yesterday, drank bottled water, the rest of us drank filtered tap water, which is available in most restaurants. The degree to which it is filtered may depend upon the quality of the restaurant, so someone who has been in India a while can probably drink water with minor filtration, whereas we gave Deepa bottled water to be safe. I normally drink a lot of water at restaurants, and in general, especially here in India - it's around 100 degrees everyday! Several times during the meal I had to remind the waiter to bring me, and sometimes others at the table, more water. As a former waitress I know what I want when I go to a restaurant, and expect waiters to conform to a certain level of service.

When the waiter brought the cake without the candle I had requested, put it in front of Lisa, and the held up the unlit candle and asked Lisa what he was supposed to do with it, I was annoyed but in a good-natured manner. We lit the candle ourselves and sang happy birthday. However, after eating the cake, I was thirsty and to my dismay the waiter brushed off Shlayma when she asked for more water. I tried to get the waiters attention, but he walked by me several times without noticing my beckoning hand, ignoring my "excuse me, sir!". Finally, he was walking nearby and I said, "BAPU! Manchi neelu evandi!" (Sir/pal, bring me good water!) He stepped towards me then backwards, then ran to get the water. He came to the table, looking a bit shaken, and poured some water for me and Meg, whose glass was also low.

When he came back a few minutes later to refill my glass yet again, he said, "Madame, you are from Andhra?" I said no and he said "How then you know Telugu so well?" I explained that I've been living here for 8 months and have learned some. I said modestly (and truthfully) "I only know kunchum kunchum (little, little)." To which he thought for a moment and said, "You can speak frankly." As he walked away everyone at my table burst out laughing. I sat there feeling shocked and amused - I've never had someone so delicately sugar coat calling me a heinous bitch.

A night out in the 'Bad

2008-05-12T03:15:00.000-07:00

My roommates were away this weekend so I hung out with my friend Kiba.

Saturday we went for a late lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Although he said it was one of his favorite places, he complained about the food endlessly since we were sharing and therefore ordered only veg (my friend is an avid meat eater and often refuses to come to our house for dinner unless we order out and get him some non veg. I thought the restaurant was good). We left and got his car, which was parked on a small street nearby the restaurant. As we drove up the small street and turned onto the main road, we remained seatbeltless. Now, I would like to state here, that I am an avid seatbelt wearer. Back home I have been known to fight with friends who don't want to wear seatbelts, refusing to drive them anywhere unless they wear one. In fact, on the way to the Chinese restaurant, I not only wore my seatbelt but told Kiba, who was driving, to buckle his seatbelt.

Maybe it was because I've lived in India so long and there are no seatbelts in autorikshaws or on busses, which constitute 95% of my transportation. Or maybe it was because we hadn't really started moving fast, or that I was playing with Iphone.. In any case, neither of us had our seatbelts on when we turned left onto the main road - and were immediately waved over by a cop on foot. Through the open window, he told my friend he owed a Rs500 fine. My friend argued with him and begged him to let him off without a fine. The officer went to the back of the car, presumably to write down the license plate number on the ticket. My friend said to me, “he just wants a bribe.” He got out of the car clutching his wallet, and walked to the back of the car where the officer stood. I remained in the passenger seat, and tilted the rear view mirror so I could watch the action. Through the back windshield, I could see only their hands. The officer held his pen, unmoving, against the pad of tickets, as my friend opened and closed his wallet multiple times in between "come on" palms up hand gestures. I watched in awe as, after about 40 seconds, the officer returned an upwards palm hand gesture, which turned into his thumb closing on the money my friend slipped into his hand. My friend jumped back in the car, and after fastening our seatbelts and driving away, he told me that the conversation which I watched the hand movements of went something like this:

Cop: The fine is Rs500.
Kiba: I don't have Rs500.
Cop: So.. what do you want to do about it?
*a bit more wallet closing and opening*
Kiba: Take this, sir.
*Kiba hands the cop a 100 rupee note*
Cop: I don't have change...

***

In the evening, we went to a snazzy club called Zouks. It had four clumps of red fuzzy chairs with extremely tall backs that look straight out of the Star Trek Enterprise, and open floor for dancing. The cover charge for men was Rs1500 (nearly $40), which goes towards drinks and food. However food and drinks are extremely expensive at a place like Zouks, equal or perhaps more expensive than the equivalent in the USA (for example, drinks at Ahala, another snazzy club, cost between $11-14). There is no charge for women, of course, because clubs in India never charge women an entry fee; in fact "ladies night", which in the USA would mean free or discounted entry for women that night, in India actually means "free drinks for women" between specified hours (whereas men attending ladies nights are hit with Rs1000/$25 cover charges, owing to the fact that there will be many women there drunk on free alcohol).

The club closed at 12:30am, despite the club being full and it being a Saturday night. We drove in his car and pulled over outside a closed cafe. Before we had even stopped, a man ran up to the window on my side and shouted something in Telugu. My friend said he wanted 4 romali rolls, paneer butter masala, and some kind of chicken dish. The man pointed ahead and left. We drove up past the closed cafe and parked outside the gas station. Another man came over and collected the money, and soon the first man came over with our order packed to go.

"See," my friend explained, "the restaurant can't be open this late. But in India, we always find a way around this." In other words, the restaurant was still open, but instead of having people inside to dine it had runners doing takeout orders to cars. We were told to park up at the gas station so as not to look suspicious.

We drove away, and stopped outside another area to wait for friends following in a car behind us. As we waited, three different men came up to my window, one asking about food, one wielding a packet of cigarettes, and I was not sure what the third one was selling. Pharmacies also stay open, keeping their holed gates closed so no one steals from them, but allowing customers to talk face-to-face with the employees and exchange money for items all through the night.

Pesach reflections - AJWS assignment

2008-05-07T03:47:00.000-07:00

Shlayma - Question #3 - While the Exodus was happening, Moses instructed the Children of Israel in how they would later tell the story of the Exodus to their children and to future generations. This consciousness of the significance of the experience and projection about how, in the future, to tell the story, relates to your experience as a WP fellow. What consciousness do you have about the significance of your experience? How do you imagine this experience will shape your identity and what stories will you tell about it?

It is always unsettling to me when people back home say how much I inspire them by being here. From my perspective, my time here has been largely selfish and ultimately useless. I try to demystify the exoticism of doing time in India, but to them my mere presence here is a tremendous sacrifice for a greater cause. I guess I am surrendering to some extent, because I’ve given up a lot—mostly my egotistical pride around doing “selfless” service. Being here, amidst many material discomforts and disturbing realities, has been a very humbling experience. As a result, I’ve questioned the motives that drove me to come in the first place, and whether my presence here has had even the smallest benefit. Nevertheless, however critical I am about the effectiveness of long-term international service work, the struggle to make sense of my global social responsibility has meant something to those that have not chosen to engage with these questions in the same way. For many of my friends and family, my choice to be here challenges them to think about their own choices, and my stories move them to become informed about injustices in the world. While I have no idea how this experience will shape my identity or what value it will have in the future, I know that at this moment in time living in India, working at an HIV/AIDS NGO and celebrating Passover seder in the mountains with Tibetan exiles is a story in the making—one that is inspiring others to think and act in ways that will hopefully shape a better world.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lily's answer to Question 3: What consciousness do you have about the significance of your experience? How do you imagine this experience will shape your identity and what stories will you tell about it?

i. There are stories that people don’t want to hear, and then there are the stories that I don’t want to tell.

Recently, I posted a blog article about a weekend trip we took to Goa for Shlayma’s birthday – and, after months of very little feedback from my (mostly) American audience, received a slew of compliments on my writing, my sharing, my adventuring. At first, I wanted to blame my readers for responding to the peace, the ease of the story when they have commented very little on stories of confusion and conflicting values… but I have also started to realize that I was able to write clearly about Goa for the very same reasons I was taking my readers to task. Goa was nothing if not easy and escapist, which places writing about Goa in precisely that same category. For two weeks, I have been trying to write about the Pesach weekend I spent in Dharamsala with Shlayma, a host of wandering Jews, and a community of exiled Tibetan monks, but the words have refused to come. How do I do justice to the images of monks murdered by Chinese police just last month, images that are hung across every temple and holy site? How do I explain the selfish motives that drove me into the mountains, the peace I found from watching others struggle? The simple answer, of course, is that I can’t, and that I’ll write the story soon despite all that, and shrug at the holes in the narrative and the injustice at the world, and get back to writing grants. And the simple answer, unfortunately, is usually the one that makes it out into the world.

ii. We.

All of my stories about India start with ‘we.’ Never in my life as my story been so completely intertwined with the stories of others. I think of the Passover questions – how is this night different from all other nights? – and I think that this journey is different from all other journeys because it is so completely shared, shared with Myla and Shlayma, and shared with the billion plus souls breathing in the industrializing pollution and breathing out the endless singing syllables that make up the polyglot beauty of India.

iii.

For me, being in India has been very much about story-telling. The moment I began to feel comfortable here was the moment I began to write about my experiences – and by writing, of course, to process them. It has become a way to place a few filters on the unremitting waves of impressions I’ve felt in this country, and to play around with a few details in order to find some more coherent sense of patterns in the morass. I don’t know which stories I will tell at home, and at this point, I’m not interested in guessing. All I ask from the stories that form in my mind is just that – that they continue to form, to be told, to make it out of my head and into the world.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Myla
Questions #1 - Pesach is the holiday of freedom. The haggadah includes the following instruction: In every generation, each person should view him/herself as if s/he personally left Egypt. Since we say this every year at the Seder, the implication is that not only does it happen every generation, but that every year we should experience liberation. Thinking about your experience as a WP fellow, in what ways are you freer than you were last year? In what ways are you less free? What impact will leaving India and this experience have on your level of freedom—will you be more free to have left, or less free because of the memory of the experience?

I think there are some practical and concrete limitations to freedom. If one does not have food, or access to resources or work that can get them food, it is likely they cannot be free – free from starvation, stress, pain. However, on a somewhat abstract level, I do think that freedom in some ways is a frame of mind, a perception of one’s circumstances. Being in India has made me see the multitude of freedoms that I enjoy that I was less, if at all, aware of before coming to a developing country. Many of the freedoms I always had, but didn’t recognize as such.

I am free to demand, as a voting citizen, member of the press, or otherwise, that a corrupt government official resign. In India, such a demand may result in a murder. I can vote in America for whoever I want! In Florida people have been turned away for minor offenses, such as being black, but for the most part US citizens can vote. In Pakastan and Nepal’s elections, people are afraid to leave their house during voting because of violence and bombings that may occur, something I have never had to worry about when voting. I have always been extremely critical of the American government, but it is perhaps important to keep a perspective of relativity and recognize that the frustration I feel at various things in my government does not measure to much in comparison with the atrocities committed by some governments in other parts of the world.

My worth as a person is not “more” than someone else’s worth. I am not better than other people. And yet, I have many people who would give me money or help if I asked for or needed it. There are people who are invested in me and would pay for hospital bills if I got sick, food if I was hungry, or education if I was curious – I am also fortunate to have health insurance. This doesn’t make me worth more than the person I see begging for money on the traffic junction corner as the motions towards the sleeper baby in her arms... but it perhaps does make me more free. I can ask for money if I am in need, large sums of money, and receive this. She can’t. I am confident that I will be able to provide for my family one day, almost irrespective of the circumstances. She can’t. I am free to know that, most probably, I will survive barring some freak accident, and so will my children. She isn’t.

I am not rich in my country; but relatively, and by virtue of being able to be able to travel abroad, and even by virtue of having white skin, I am rich. Money aside, I am rich in culture and experience and opportunity. I can go to most countries in the world on my passport. I can volunteer and “help” others just because I want to; because I feel motivated to help others, and see the world while I’m at it. How perfectly selfish.

I am free to dress, be, and love who I want, for the most part. I am free to have sex with who I want, and to have sex at all. I am free to say no to sex, and take action against anyone who tries to violate that right. If I am raped or if my spouse dies, I do not know with almost complete certainty that I can never remarry. Fear of stigma, inability to remarry, or of being murdered are not obstacles for me for leaving a bad relationship/marriage. While statistically and realistically I do naturally fear domestic violence in my country for myself and those I love, I know that I would have support of my family and friends if I ever was in an abusive situation and tried to leave. I wouldn’t be forced to move back in with my parents and be shunned from society; I would be allowed and welcome to move back in with my parents, if I needed, and would likely praised and admired for my strength in leaving an abusive partner. My family won't be insulted if they have no say in my chosen life partner, and I don't have to fear that they will disown me if I choose someone they don't approve of. I don't have to fear that I will be unable to marry because my parents cannot provide a significant dowry, and I don't have to fear being murdered for not giving enough dowry. While starting a family may mean I will have obstacles to pursuing higher education, it does not mean that I will be unable to do so, or discouraged from doing so. If I marry I am not voiceless in the decision of where I will live, and with whom (e.g. moving into my in-laws' home, wherever that happens to be).

I would say that the recognition of my own freedom, which I did nothing special to deserve, burdens me, and also makes me grateful for my undeserved circumstances. I still have issues with my country and its government and women's rights in my culture, but in comparison they seem relatively tame to the issues so many women face in India. So, in response to the question, I think I will return to the USA to feel that I am much freer as an individual than I had realized before now, and hopefully this understanding of relative freedom, or freedom in relation to others that I feel undeserving of yet thankful for, will help me to be a better person and do my part to work for equality and towards social justice. If I take literally the assertion that I personally have left slavery in Egypt, then surely I have come a long way. My hope is that this new perspective of freedom, and the memory and somewhat limited understanding of the vast inequality of freedom in the world, will help drive my motivation to effect change.

My report for work for the hijra Koovagam festival I attended

2008-05-05T02:30:00.000-07:00

Report
Myla
Koovagam hijra festival, Tamil Nadu
22.4.08

I went to Chennai for the weekend for Passover, a Jewish holiday. I stayed through Wednesday 23rd April so I could attend the annual hijra festival which happens near Villupuram.

My friend and I took a bus in the morning to Villupuram which took around 5 hours. We arrived and attended the end of the hijra beauty show that was happening in a hall in town. After getting some food we met up with Am, who works at the Kalkuta office of ____ (my roommates work at the Hyderabad ____ office and put me in touch with Am as well as Di, who is from the Chennai office, for this event). We met several of their friends, and then nine of us piled into two cabs and we headed 30km to the Koovagam festival.

Although we left Villupuramaround 6:30pm, we didn’t reach until around 9:30. The traffic on this small road kept us stopped and completely immobile for over an hour. We saw some people walking and considered doing this also but it was hot and we didn’t know how far it was. Gradually there were more and more people until finally there were swarms of people outside the car and it was kind of scary how large the crowd became. They contributed to the gridlocked traffic. The hijras became concerned for us since we were foreign girls and said that when we arrived we would stick closely together. They had my friend put something over her shoulders since her kurta was sleeveless. Finally we slowly moved all the way to the parking area.

We began to walk towards the Temple, which was about a kilometer up the road. The hijras had me and my friend walk in the middle of all them and we frequently stopped to assure that we were all together. Many men were walking in each direction and us and the hijras together attracted a lot of attention. Other hijras smiled at us or said hello, which was quite nice. Many men, however, were quite aggressive and would stick their hands in our faces trying to shake our hands, or ask me “What country??” or ask the hijras if the two foreigners with them were also transgendered. Many men walked very close to all of us and would step between our group members and walk behind us very closely. The energy was very intense and overall I found myself very creeped out by it.

We got to the Temple and it was a bigger space (instead of the small road with cornfields on either side which had constituted the walk there) so it felt a little better. There were still people, mostly men, everywhere, staring and trying to talk to us, but there were also some police watching to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. We opted not to go inside of the temple since it was a 30-minute wait and the queue looked very tightly packed and we wanted to stay away from the larger crowd. Whenever we would stop to regroup or take a photo, tons of men would materialize and stand near us and stare and leer and try and catch out attention. When we would talk, men would walk next to us, or if they saw us walking in the opposite direction as them, they would walk right at us and brush into our bodies with their hands. At one point we were walking in the crowd and although I had my arms protectively in front of me, a man walking in the opposite direction as me grabbed my breast and ran away (though I shouted and slapped his back).

Overall we were only at the event for a little over an hour. The traffic on the way home was awful and it took us about 3 hours to get back to Villupuram. On the way home when we were stuck in traffic there were still thousands of men pouring past us towards the Temple and we got scared and locked our doors and shut our windows even though it was very hot. Sometimes people would try to look in our windows or even try the door handle. Although there was a lot of creepy energy and men and the traffic was awful, I felt it was a really good experience for me. I enjoyed seeing the festival and especially talking with the hijras. I sort of interviewed Am and An and there stories and insights were extremely interesting. Another hijra had come to the festival for the past ten years and told us how it has evolved over time. Di told us about the Hindu story that the festival celebrates. The only thing that was very upsetting for me was getting to experience first-hand the type of discrimination that hijras face in every day life. They seem to be not taken seriously or respected as people – though many men are obviously happy to have sex with them or eve tease them at an event like Koovagam. In any case, I was glad to witness this event and get exposure to an event and to people I might never otherwise have gotten to know.

Made in India

2008-04-30T08:29:00.000-07:00

This is a video I made for a fellowship application.

Hot hot hot!

2008-04-16T23:28:00.000-07:00

I walked to the presser (iron guy; he 'presses' our garments) at 9:15am under the pretense of getting my clothes. I knew he wouldn't have them ready, because when I dropped them last night he said tomorrow 10am and I said "9:15" and he said OK and naturally I knew he was lying. Nevertheless, I had to go at 9:15 and ask angrily why he hadn't finished my laundry (or even started), in order to assure he finishes it by 5pm when I go back to get it before packing; if I didn't go this morning, I would go at 5pm and it wouldn't be done. It's just part of playing the game.

When I left the fan-cooled breeze of my house to walk 3 minutes to the presser's shop (which is more of a makeshift hut with a tarp that he pulls over the hut when he is closed), I broke into a sweat, even though I had just finished a somewhat cool bucket shower. When I returned to the house I ate breakfast under the fan. I went in my room to pack my bag, and as the fan was off I broke into a sweat in the 45 seconds it took me to pack my bag.

Tonight I am taking an overnight train 14 hours South to Chennai/Madras, a big city. I'm nervous about the journey because I am going sleeperclass, which means no AC and lots of hot, sweaty people all packed together. I checked the weather this morning and the projected highs for this whole week in Hyderabad were 40Celcius, which is 104F. We have two more months until the monsoon, and my coworkers say it gets up to 45C (113F). I don't mind the heat so much, except when it's so hot that I can't sleep. The ceiling fans help a lot. Our India supervisor is reconsidering the AJWS policy of air conditioning not being considered essential for volunteers' houses here (she is living in Delhi).

I am going to Chennai for Passover. I am meeting several friends and several random people, it should be a good time. My Spanish friend Blanca is there; Nalasa is going to be there; the brother of my Hyderabad friend (also now our friend) lives there; Leah and Rachel form AJWS will be there; and some more. Armed with 2 haggadot but lacking matzah that the Mumbai Chabad Rabbi promised yet failed to send us, we are going to do an elaborate makeshift Sedar in an ovenless house in South India.

Goa is not in India

2008-04-14T01:13:00.000-07:00

Despite what you may think you know, Goa is NOT in India. No, it is not. When we got off the plane, jumped into a land rover and were driven 90 minutes to Arambol beach, we became convinced of this, and our long weekend in Goa confirmed our theory. As we drove towards our destination, we began to see what we thought to be an anomaly in India - white people, tons of them, in skimpy clothing. The further we drove, the whiter (blonder, to be exact) the people were, the longer the dreadlocks grew, and the skimpier the clothing became. We grasped hands across the car in fear - where were we? The roads overlooked gorgeous oceans flanked by palm trees, white couples on shared motorbikes drove around like they owned the road wearing bathing suits, and the landfill we drove through, aside from the putrid smell, was almost beautiful. We definitely experienced some initial culture shock when we arrived in Goa.

Goa is a small state in the southwest of India. It used to be a Portuguese colony and is now a tourist and hippie paradise. It is known for its many beaches and is has been an extremely popular tourist resort for both Indians and foreigners. Goa has received a lot of attention in the media lately as a 15 year old girl died there in February and was possibly murdered; it seems like the Indian police handled the investigation quite badly, doing superfluous tests to confirm her age for example. The beach she was on is known for its tourist drug culture, which maybe played a role in hear death. We steered clear of this beach, choosing instead a beach in the North of Goa called Arambol. We faced no trouble in Goa at all; rather, we had an incredible and refreshing time, and it was a lovely way to celebrate Shlayma's 25th birthday during our long weekend (Monday was the Telugu new year).

To fly to Goa, we took an auto to Keyes High school, then took a 90-minute shuttle bus to the new Hyderabad airport, which opened two weeks ago, replacing the convenient one that was in the center of the city. The new airport is out in the middle of nowhere. At one point I wondered if we had gotten on the wrong bus somehow... The
New airport looks like something out of the future. It is huge and looks out of the space age, like the bangkok airport. All of the food is really expensive and not very good like other large airports in the world, whereas at other airports in india, like delhi and the old Hyderabad airport you can get two samosas for like a buck
and other cheap things.

We arrived on the beach and found huts with electricity and mosquito nets and running water and toilets that were $6.50 a night for two of us. We would get up in the morning, walk 100 meters, and see the ocean. Another AJWS fellow and her friend met us there for the weekend, and our friend Blanca came on the last day with her sister and two other Spanish friends. We hung out on the beach on lounge chairs with beach unbrellas drinking coconuts, having food served to us at our spots on the beach from the nearby restaurants, and enjoying the sound of the waves. I expected that a resort like that would have not very good yet expensive food, but no! The food was amazing - quality omlettes, cheese toast, great Italian pizza, pasta, greek salads, salads!, cheese platters - all the things we are deprived of in India, plus the most amazing fruit salads with fresh bananas, papaya, watermelon, pineapple, and chicko - and everything was cheap! A pizza that tasted right out of Italy was under three dollars, as was a Greek salad, and the fruit salad was $1.50... it was pretty heavenly. I was so relaxed on the beach that instead of reading my intended book Shantaram (which you should read because of its apt descriptions and analyses of India) or listening to my Ipod, I just lay on my beach chair and listened to the waves.

Each day women would walk by selling sarongs and crappy jewelry; both women and men walked by with large baskets on their head containing watermelons, mini bananas, pineapples and whole coconuts (when you buy a coconut, which costs around Rs20 after bargaining, they take down their basket, use their machete to open it just a little, stick a straw in it and hand it to you. When you finish, you can find them, or catch them the next time they walk by, and they will take down their machete again and cut the coconut in half, use it to loosen up the coconut meat, and hand it to you for your eating pleasure. We also get these in Hyderabad, for cheaper). We bought a couple sarongs and then on the last day a girl selling them came over and sat with us. She said she was 10 and had been selling for four years. She stayed on the one beach because they all knew her and didn't charge her commission, like some of the restaurateurs do on other beaches. She said she was in school and had exams the next day, which she intended to study for that night. She said she was originally from the state or Karnataka and went home once a year during monsoon season. We offered her some coconut and a banana, which she took. She ended the conversation after about 15 minutes by abruptly launching into her sales pitch, and then walking away with her bundle of sarongs.

Even though the weather was just perfect, we were told that the tourist season ended in late March. Still, the beach has mostly white people, and after talking to a woman with a British accent in a beach-side cafe, we learned why. "I've lived here for 8 years," she said and she fed chicken to her son, Eden. "I don't know why the tourist season ends so early - ask him, he's been here for 20 years," she said, pointing to a blond man in his fifties. This highlighted for me a phenomenon that I was not previously aware of - whit Westerners moving to developing countries, presumably so they can relax, explore their spirituality through gurus, meditation, yoga, and live a work-free life as a rich person due to the skewed economy. There's something tempting about the idea of picking up and moving to beautiful Goa, and yet also something quite unsettling about this concept...

My camera broke in Goa due to an excess of sand, so the photos in this post are taken from Lily.

Me, Lily and Shlayma

What has four legs, is holy, and is dodged by traffic at all costs?

2008-04-11T01:39:00.000-07:00

My tea lady keeps asking me to tell her the composition of a cow. I was utterly confused until I finally asked her to tell me the composition of a cow and she said, “A cow is a domestic animal. It has four legs. It gives milk, curds, cheese.” I realized she must have been trying to do her daughter’s English homework. We then proceeded to have a fight over whether cows give ice cream.

Mumbai

2008-04-02T23:54:00.000-07:00

In January the AJWS retreat started out with several days in Mumbai. After Thailand, I returned to Mumbai for a couple days before returning to Hyderabad.

I enjoyed Mumbai a lot. I thought it was beautiful and had a completely different feel than anywhere else I'd been in India. It has that grandiose big city feel like NYC. I am aware, however, that I was mostly in the nicest richest parts of Mumbai, and saw art museums, tourist sites, and continental restaurants, and did not see things like the biggest slum in Asia (which is in Mumbai).

The double decker buses and red phone booths are reminiscent of the time of British rule

A few of us visited one of the Jewish synagogues in Mumbai. The next week Lily, Shlayma and I went to the service here, which was run by a Chabad Rabbi. As per order of the Chabad Rabbi, women are relegated to the balcony during the services and don't count towards a minion.

Me and a few AJWS fellows with Ben Zion, an Indian Jew.

They say you can get anything you want in Mumbai - for a price.

A glimpse of the Mumbai airport, and all the many people you meet when you exit. If that's not overwhelming I don't know what is.

Me eating Kulfi ice cream out of a one time use clay pot

People nap everywhere. Look closely.

Birthday party

2008-03-31T10:33:00.000-07:00

Our neighbors in the next building came over yesterday with an invitation for their niece Meghana's first birthday party. They own the store on our corner where I buy eggs, and run there whenever we are cooking and realize we are out of an essential such as green chillies or ginger (we buy our veggies at a couple different veggie stores a few blocks away).

The party was at a function hall on the street parallel to ours. We arrived with a box of Indian sweets in hand along with a plastic toy drum that we found at the 25 rupee store (not just because we are cheap, but also because we had no idea where else to buy toys of any kind). They ushered us in and the photographer took photos of us with the baby and her aunts. Then we were given cake, then sat around in chairs for a while waving at people we vaguely know from the neighborhood. Then we went outside and helped ourselves to the buffet of yummy Indian food, which was spiced rice, plain rice, an eggplant dish, an aloo (potato) dish, a gobi (cauliflower) dish, curds (plain yogurt), and gulab jamun and another sweet that I believe was Rajasthani (these neighbors are from Rajasthan, a state in the North North West of India, which means they have somewhat different food, customs, clothes, and speak Hindi and not Telugu). There were many women dressed in elegant sarees and my roommates and I, in kurtas and jeans, felt quite under dressed. Many of the Rajasthani women wore the end of the sarees draped over their heads, as is the custom of some.

We talked with the few people we knew (our immediate neighbors, the Punjabi neighbors who live downstairs and run a homeopathic clinic, and Shlayma's boss from her first NGO) and played with the many kids. I chased some kids around the yard until I was tired from running and ice cream mixed with gulab jamun, and then introduced myself to a Muslim woman with 9-month old twins and proceeded to hold them both. Indians LOVE children, maybe more than other people. One of my favorite things about India is that I can go up to people at a party, in a shop, on the street, in a bus - and touch their kids. I can smile and coo and pinch the cheeks of a complete stranger - and often the parents will smile and try and get their kid to say hello back. Sometimes they will hand the kid to me; I've never been refused when I've asked to hold a child. This might not seem so strange, but imagine in America or England if you went up to a child, perhaps with their face turned away from their parents in their arms, or maybe standing alone in a public area - and began to pat them, poke them, pinch their cheeks! (They are big on cheek pinching here; sometimes my coworkers pinch my cheeks.)

It was quite a shindig, especially for a first birthday party. There was music and a catered buffet and nearly 100 people, and the baby changed clothes at least twice... good times.

One day in Hyderabad

2008-03-22T09:41:00.001-07:00

I went on a day-long tour with Robyn, a friend of an Asmita funder who was in town visiting.

Robyn

The tour guide was really funny - though, apparently, only to me and Robyn. He kept yelling "Challo! Ayie!" ("Let's go! Please come!") every five minutes.

The White Temple was built in the 1970's. You take off your shoes to enter and get to enjoy walking barefoot on the smooth cold white Marble.

Photos at the white temple, including one I took at night when I was there with my roommates

Women selling coconuts for Pooja purposes outside the Temple; school kids waiting to go in the Temple.

Cell phones and cameras are strictly forbidden inside the white temple. When you walk in the locker room, you can hear a handful of cell phones ringing at once from these shelves.

We drove around the Charminar but didn't get out. I took this photo another time when I went there with my roommates.

The Nizam Museum

Reason there are no photos from inside the Nizam museum (Rs50 = $1.25 per photo)

Lots of places in India charge extra above the ticket price for cameras and video cameras. Also many sites charge tourists ten times more than Indians. I made my case for paying Indian prices - I work and live in India - and everywhere but Golkonda let me in at Indian ticket price.

Nizam Palace

We stopped for a much-needed lunch at a restaurant with a veg buffet. I was eating with my hands (as is the tradition in South India) and felt something in the baigan bartha that didn't feel like eggplant. I brought it up to the counter and asked them what it was. "It's Brinjal ('eggplant' in India English), ma'am." "No," I said. "This is meat." About five other workers came over and began to examine the hunk of flesh on my plate, and finally came to the conclusion that it's mutton (lamb). Another worker made a new plate from the buffet for me and tried to hand it to me, but I refused to take it. I had almost finished eating anyway, and could easily make myself another plate if I had wanted (after all, that's how I got the first two plates, isn't it). As I am used to complaining at restaurants both because I work in one and because I was vegan for five years and got used to sending about 50% of food ordered at restaurants back for alterations, I went on. "There was mutton in my brinjal! This is a veg buffet!" I said. "This is India! You can't do this here!" As if I had said the magic words, a worker refunded my buffet money (to Robyn, who had paid) and gave both me and Robyn mango ice cream with carmalized apricot (mmmmm). Seriously though... who does that in India.

Golkonda Fort

Golkonda is beautiful. There are around 350 stairs to get to the top. The Temple is on the way up, the pavilion building structures are at the top, and has giant Andhra rocks everywhere. There were a handful of teenage boys trying to take out photo or trying to take photos with us (we refused, but allowed some girls to take photos with us). There were many young couples here, and at the other sites we visited, seemingly hiding in a tourist venue where no one they know would find out about their secret trysts.

So-called enhanced interrogation techniques

2008-03-16T23:10:00.000-07:00

Although I often use terms like "third world" and "developing" in my speech and writing in the interest of simplifying communication, I find these terms problematic. While I admit that I have seen India literally developing before my eyes during my 7 months here, the idea that a country is "developing" implies that they must try to become like "us" - as if they development were a linear process and and each country falls somewhere on that line. The term also implies that one developed nation is superior, while another developing or undeveloped country is behind, lacking, inferior, or, as they say in India, "backwards."

I take issue with the idea that one place is backwards while another is not. People create a mental link between the idea of infrastructural development and the idea of moral development, and moral, political, and structural development. In their minds, and in the discourse and terminology used, developing country = developing people. We read about people dying of AIDS, malaria, getting hit by buses, women burned alive by husbands, children trafficked for sex tourism purposes (as if these problems don't happen in the "developed" world). But yes, there are many problems with corruption and lack of infrastructure in India, which often has detrimental results for citizens, including in sickness, death, acute poverty, failure of aid to reach those for whom it is intended, and a host of other problems. Modi, the head of the Indian state of Gujarat (and was also chief minister during the Gujarat riots and has been criticized for his role in this) whom an Indian coworker once equated with Hitler, perhaps admitted to killing his opponent and justified it saying he deserved it and he did what needed to be done.

But what about the developed world? Is there such a vast distinction in policies and attitudes of our politicians? Several days ago when I read that Bush vetoed an anti-torture bill, or "interrogation limits" for the CIA, these questions were what ran through my mind. I know that "water-boarding" has gotten a lot of attention in recent months, but the others are equally if not more disturbing to me.

This list is taken from a BBC article on Bush's recent veto of the anti-torture bill.

CIA 'ENHANCED INTERROGATION' TECHNIQUES
Water-boarding: prisoner bound to a board with feet raised, and cellophane wrapped round his head. Water is poured onto his face and is said to produce a fear of drowning

Cold cell: prisoner made to stand naked in a cold, though not freezing, cell and doused with water

Standing: Prisoners stand for 40 hours and more, shackled to the floor

Belly slap: a hard slap to the stomach with an open hand. This is designed to be painful but not to cause injury

My point is not exactly that India is not developing, or that America is more backward than it pretends... let's just say that in my opinion, Bush and Modi are in a similar camp.

Lucknow and the Sleeperclass Express

2008-03-13T21:23:00.000-07:00

The IAWS (Indian Association of Women's Studies) national conference was held in February in Lucknow, a city in the North state of Uttar Pradesh. My work sent me and eight coworkers to attend. As the office was paying for our transport, we took a direct train in sleeperclass. Sleeperclass is not as classy as it sounds; it comes after 1st class AC (air conditioned)(pointless; for the money you may as well fly); 2nd class AC (how I traveled before; has two tier bunks, six total in one berth) and 3rd AC (also tried this before; two three-tiered bunks and one two-tiered bunk, so eight total in one berth). Sleeperclass is also eight in a berth, but no sheets, pillows, face towels or blankets are provided (as is the case in 1st-3rd). It is also packed with people: those who have tickets it general unreserved (which comes after sleeperclass, and is supposed to be miserable), those who have unconfirmed reservations (so no reserved beds). Also in sleeperclass the windows have bars and windows that you can put up and look through, enjoy the breeze, throw trash out of, etc (while in 1st-3rd class there are permanent hard plastic windows that don't open). People who have unreserved or unconfirmed ticket, sit on other people's beds during the day, huddle together on the floor, and sometimes try and crawl into other people's beds in the night (so I've heard).

Men huddling by the door on the train floor

Tuesday morning, we got on the train at 8:00am with plenty of home cooked food, fruit and snacks in preparation of our 32-hour journey. We ran onto the train and desperately looked for places to put our luggage. The group was spread out between two cars, and none of our seats were together; after trading with various people over the hour we finally had several of us spread out in three berths in the two cars. One of these berths had two Muslim women with a 7-month old baby, and another had a 1 1/2 year old. The older baby, Arpita, that I am holding in the photo had a deep belly laugh that was contagious. She laughed every time she saw my face, and after about 20 hours on the train took to calling me "Amma" (Mother in Hindi). After a couple hours, one of my coworkers picked up the 1 1/2 year old and took her to the berth our other coworkers were in (in the same car). We had the babies play together, and then brought the baby to the other car to see our other coworkers. I was really nervous - it was one thing to bring her to another berth, but to another train car without permission?! Once in the other car, my other coworkers passed her around, fed her raisins, and enjoyed her laugh. I just imagined what would happen if some stranger on a train took a fellow passenger's baby to another train car and gave it food! (We'd probably create panic among the parents and then get arrested.) But in India, you can generally play with babies on the train; whenever I see babies and little kids in public, whether waiting in a queue, on the train or bus, at the mall, on the street, I will go up to them and touch their cheeks, let them wrap their little fingers around my pinky finger, ask them "Me peru emeti?" (Telugu for "What's your name?") - just because I can.

Sleeperclass is a trip. Every 5-15 seconds, LITERALLY, there is someone, whether from the cafeteria car or someone who has just climbed on the train, selling something. All day and into the night you hear, "Chai, coffee, chai chai" "samose!" "cutlet, omelet" "pani water" and various languages of people selling fruit, chips, snacks, groundnuts, ice cream, keychains, newspapers, magazines, toothbrushes, luggage chains, carved wooden objects, people begging for money, singing songs for money, cleaning your berth with a broom for money, hijras clapping the signature "hijra clap" and demanding money, and every 15 hours or so a ticket collector asking to see a ticket.

I cannot tell what this woman is selling; probably nuts or flavoured fried dal (lentils) judging by her basket and her scooping cup.

The amount of people at first had me feeling sweaty and a bit claustrophobic, but after the train began moving I could walk in the aisles and arrange a seat near my coworkers (the beds are seats during the day, and you put up the backrest as the middle bunk when people go to sleep at night, so there's generally about 10 people sitting in a berth at any given time). You can go stand in the doors in between the train cars and look out as the landscape passes by, which is great if you need a breather, a photo, or just to relax and enjoy the beauty, garbage, people, huts, buildings, animals, and other sights out the train window.

Lucknow was COLD. I forgot what the cold felt like (it's now summer in Hyderabad, as of about 10 days ago). My coworkers were not used to the weather and some were unprepared (I advised some to bring closed-toed shoes and socks but they told me they didn't own either, since they are unnecessary in Hyderabad). Almost all of my coworkers have never seen snow.

My coworkers, Santi and Anu, all bundled up.

The women's studies conference was amazing. It was incredible to hear presentations on the research being done here on women and gender issues. A lot of it touched on issues I had learned about during my senior year, including transgender issues, intersexed people, disability and sexuality, disability and feminism, feminism as elite (they talked about being a "caste" feminist, which I took to mean the Indian women's movement addressing the needs of upper caste women and leaving out dailt women's needs).

On the last day I met up with my friend Rachel, who is also an AJWS World Partners Fellow and whose placement is in Lucknow (the city that I was originally supposed to be placed in). We went shopping with a few of my coworkersOur coworkers bought us Indian priced tickets to go to this mosque (under a dollar, instead of foreigner's price of more than $7.00). We wrapped our heads and they put bindis on us (kind of a mixed message becauseif we were trying to look Muslim the bindi doesn't make so much sense, though sometimes Hindu women cover their heads, like when entering a temple or when the sun is blazing). We walked in and they said "They are English they can't use Indian tickets" but then they saw our bindis and said "they are Indian" (at least this is what happened according to my coworker Anu who dealt with the ticket rippers).

So maybe we don't really pass as Indian.. but I still think Rachel looks Muslim Indian with her head cover.

More photos from the day, sightseeing at Bara Imambara:

After having dinner with Rachel and a one-time-use clay pot of Kulfi (pista ice cream), I took an auto back to the center where we were staying. It must have been an extremely auspicious time because we passed 4 different wedding ceremonies in the 20-minute ride, and saw several other venues with "Ramesh weds Sita" signs (indicating other weddings).

Groom riding a white horse

On the 32- hour train back to Hyderabad, I took a bunch of photos when we came into train stations, and out the window of the moving train. As has become my custom for traveling, I will include them in a photo montage...

At one point when the train stopped, people waited at the train crossing barriers. Some people simply grabbed their bike/child/goat, climbed aboard, and went out the other side.

The living end

(pooping onto the tracks)

Happy Hyderabad

2008-03-10T21:39:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things to do in Hyderabad is to go to the lake. It's beautiful being by the water and it offers a cool breeze and a beautiful view. There is a giant standing Buddha statue in the middle of the lake that is only a couple decades old; however, supposedly Hyderabad used to be the center of contemporary Buddhist thought, long ago. There are places to eat there on the lake at Necklace Road, such as Eat Street, a food-court type place with lots of different restaurants including Subway and Cafe Coffee Day (though I get Indian food only). Next door is an extremely fancy restaurant called the Water Front, which has amazing Thai food. There is a cover charge of Rs300 ($7.50) on regular nights and Rs500 ($12.50) which goes towards your meal which will most likely end up costing a bit more than that. My American dollars mind thinks, that is NOTHING for a super nice meal at a restaurant that has live classical being played as you eat and high quality food and a gorgeous view of the lake... but my Indian Rupees mind says, my stipend is based on rupees and the Indian cost of living, not dollars, and it's the most expensive restaurant we have been to in the city, so it seems really expensive and is a real treat (ie - we make our parents take us when they visit).

My roommates, Milos and I at Water Front - I was stomach sick and couldn't eat but still had the Rs500 cover charge

Beautiful Shlayma and the beautiful view overlooking the lake outside the glass windows of Water Front at night

Temple-type thing overlooking the lake

Me and Blanca at the lake

The Buddha statue in the middle of the lake at sunset

"Work" saree...

2008-03-02T21:48:00.000-08:00

My coworkers informed me that a "work" saree is not a saree that you wear to work - it is a saree that has "work" on it, such as the beaded and sequined work on mine... They looked at my blog on Saturday when I was not here (I take Saturdays off for Shabbat; they take off only Sundays) and had a good laugh at my incorrect description.

Traditionally it seems that bindis were worn by married women, when they had their first child, maybe, and not unmarried women or widows... But most Hindu women I know wear bindis, and love when I wear one. When I first wore a bindi to work I got so many compliments, and sometimes when I am out in public with work wearing one strangers will compliment me on how beautiful I look in a bindi, and if I'm in full Indian attire, will sometimes even ask if I am Indian. I have never seen the Christian of Muslim women I know wear bindis, but have been told there are some Christian congregations or sects that wear bindis (Catholic for example, so I've been told). Sooo... bindis seem to be cosmetic, but also religious... my verdict on this one is inconclusive.

There is also Sindhur, which is the red line of colored powder in the part of a woman's hair. I have been told this is to keep a woman's sexual energy on her husband only. This happens more in the North; when I was in Lucknow I realized almost every woman had a bright red streak in her part, whereas in the South I see it much less.

Another way you can guess that a woman is married is if she wears toe rings. Not all women who are married wear toe rings - some just don't; others, such as certain Christian sects, don't wear any ornaments, including earrings, toe rings, or bindis. Similarly, not all women who wear toe rings are married - in Kerala, for example, toe rings are worn as fashion, by girls and married women alike; and one of my coworkers wears a toe ring for fashion (which warrants strange looks since she's not married).

And let's not forget Henna, or Mendhi as they call it in my area. Mendhi can be fun for decoration for no reason, or for use before weddings or other festivals. I believe it has no religious use and have seen Muslims and Hindus wear it, as well as Jews (me and Shlayma got henna together in January, and when Leah was here she put henna on me, Lily and herself. But hey, if you were thinking, 'oh, she tricked me, I thought she was implying there were Jews in India, how silly!' - Just you wait for my Mumbai post! (coming shortly))

My coworker Aparna's mendhi-decorated hands holding chana (chickpeas) during a workshop exercise

Shlayma and me getting Mendhi applied

But don't take my word for it... (because it wouldn't be the first time that I've been wrong)

I'll see you next time.

Vacation catch-up - Varanasi - a great place to die

2008-02-23T05:57:00.000-08:00

I apologize in advance for any seizures, headaches, or jealousy that this entry, with it's many, many photos, may cause. I had over 600 photos from Varanasi alone and tried to select only my favorites along with the pictures that I felt gave the best visual representation of the city.

***

Varanasi is one of the holiest places in India. The holy Ganges river flows through it, and it is an extremely auspicious (sort of like superstitiously holy)

The Ganges is holy and is believed to have healing powers. Hindu's make pilgrimages to cities through which the Ganges flows, and bathe in, swim in, and drink the holy water. People defecate into the river, and various sewage pipes flow into the Ganges. While seeing people bathe and clean clothes in the Ganges is something you get accustomed to, there is just something unsettling and slightly ironic to the tourist eye watching people brush their teeth with Ganges water.

Dead bodies may be brought to Varanasi, by relatives to have the traditional rituals performed - the body is cleansed with Ganges water, is shaved, and then is burned and its ashes are put into the river. Some older people will go to Varanasi to wait for death - Varanasi is an extremely auspicious place to die. There are many ghats, which are kind of like piers on the water. There is cow shit all over Varanasi (as cows are holy and this is a holy city, there are cows everywhere), especially on the ghats. There are two different burning ghats, on where taking photos is prohibited. We saw a body wrapped in a sheet being burned at one of the burning ghats, and two dogs lying dead near the body. The man who said he owned the ghat told us that women are not allowed to burning rituals because 1) they are too emotional and 2) to protect against Sati, the traditional burning of a bride upon her husband's funeral pyre (which can happen of her own accord, or otherwise), which is now illegal in India.

Photos on the ghat

The last morning we took a boat ride around 4:30am, for 2 1/2 hours. It was foggy for the first half, and although we could only see fog, we heard lots of sounds, such as chanting, the river water swishing against boats, prayers, people coughing and blowing their noses. After the fog began to lift, we saw people bathing, washing clothes, and swimming in the Ganges. Just like on Indian streets, sellers approached us in boats trying to get us to buy trinkets and souvenirs.

We walked through the streets of Varanasi, and also took cyclerikshaws around the city. Varanasi is both overwhelming and at the same time quite peaceful. Cows roam freely, stray mangy dogs eat garbage, children play happily and other children beg for money or run a store or sell knick knacks. Storekeepers sleep in full-view of their customers, and signs advertise organic coffee, tea, body piercing and massage - in one shop.

In the crowded shopping area, stores are selling Varanasi silk cloth, sarees, and all sorts of clothing. The "white" models bothered me somehow. In various places in India, including Goa, Rishikesh, and Varanasi, there are large numbers of Israeli's, often straight out of the army. As a result these cities have wonderful middle eastern food, a real treat for those of us who live off of hummus at home.

We attended a ritual at the ghats, with music, bells, candles, and lots of people.

People were selling pooja flowers and lily pad leaves with a candle inside which you would put light and put on the water to float away. Sometimes they demanded high prices after giving you put the miniature candle boat on the water, and would refuse to take your money, and catch you off guard and be like OK I'll take some money...

waves

If you are not angry, you're not paying attention.

2008-02-20T03:31:00.000-08:00

While I was upset by the molestation of two women on new years eve in Mumbai, supposedly the safest city for women in India, this new development is just the icing on the cake.

I am including text of two articles below, the first describing the molestation, and the second the recent comments by the Chief Justice of Karnataka (a state in India)

MUMBAI: Two women were allegedly molested by a group of men on New Year outside a five-star hotel here.

Police said no complaint has been filed yet in this connection, but the local edition of a leading English daily published a series of photographs on the incident.

"No such complaint has been registered with us. We had adequate security arrangements outside the hotel, where personnel from the State Reserve Police Force were posted and closed circuit cameras installed," Additional Commissioner of Police Archna Tyagi said.

The incident took place at around 0145 hrs(local time) on Tuesday when the women, along with their male friends, were heading towards Juhu beach from a hotel in the suburbs.

A mob of 70-80 men reportedly tore up the women's clothes, molested and groped them while their male companions, overpowered by the crowd, watched helplessly.
Source: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/2671478.cms

**And the other...**

Shame on Indian MCPs!
Protest Against Regressive Statements on Women
Dear all,

INDIA On the 9th of February 2008, remarks by two emminent
judiciary members the
Chief Justice of Karnataka, Cyriac Joseph and State Human Rights Commission Chairperson Justice S.R.Nayak, stating that immodest
dressing was the cause of increasing crimes against women were reported in the press. (the
clippings are pasted below with links).

The Hon'ble Chief Justice further elaborated his statement by mentioning that "*Nowadays, women wear such kind of dresses even in temples and churches that when we go to places of worship, instead of meditating on God,
we end up meditating on the person before us*" and that the provocative
dresses that women wear in buses*" put the "*men travelling in the buses*" in awkward situations and hence "*women must dress
modestly*."

The Chairperson SHRC, speaking on 'Human Rights and the Lawyers Role", gave his opinion on the Mumbai New years eve molestation
issue by saying "*Yes, men are bad", ''But who asked them (the women) to venture out in the
night,'' ''Women should not have gone out in the night and when they do, there is no point in complaining that men touched them and hit them. Youth are destroying our culture for momentary satisfaction.''*

Thousands of crimes like molestation, domestic violence, rape etc go unreported in the country because the patriarchal
society we dwell in refuses women the space to report violence.Where it
should be the prerogative of the seat of law to protect the
privileges of the vulnerable
and the victims of any violence, we have seen the perpetration of
subjugative regressive ideology.

As people who believe in systems of Justice and the value of equity, please join us in raising a voice for the cause of women in the country and sign the petition below:
http://www.ipetitions.com/petiti on/indiawomen2008/

Do share the petition with as many people as possible.

With warm regards,
Arpita Joshi, Harminder Kaur, Gitanjali Mahanti,
Bhargavi S Rao, Dolly
Kalita
Source: http://www.justicewomen.com/guestbook/guestbook.php

Many people cite reasons such as manner of dress, being out late at night, etc. in order to blame a woman for her own rape or attack. But in this instance, these women, two NRIs - non-resident Indians - from California, accompanied by their husbands, were celebrating new years eve at the club of a 5-star hotel. Are women not allowed to go out in public? Not allowed to celebrate new years eve with their husbands? Are women not also passengers on the bus, and worshipers in the temples? Or are we merely second class citizens, who need to make sure we don't distract men from prayers to their gods, dress modestly in the buses to avoid harassment, not go out at night, with or without the company of a man, even on new years eve?

I have no tolerance for those who tell me that feminism, and the women's movement, is dead, unnecessary, outdated. The fact that these kind of things happen in the world, and furthermore that politicians will then defend this behavior and blame the victims for their roles in the attacks, is proof to me that we have a long way to go. If you are not angry, you're not paying attention. If you are not aware of this reality, then maybe you should do some research and see how the world treats the rest of it's citizens. Try finding out what it is like for the majority of the women in the world. Do that, and then just try and tell me there is no need for a women's movement.

Saree

2008-01-31T03:05:00.000-08:00

So I finally got my saree made, and Leah is visiting from rural coastal Andhra Pradesh and helped me tie it. Leah owns four sarees and wears them regularly; this is one of her work sarees. Mine is also a work saree, meaning it's a saree to wear to work. I also own a wedding saree, which I can wear to any weddings I get invited to. My roommates and coworkers tease me for only wearing purple and blue here, which is the majority of my Indian wardrobe. It is only fitting that my first saree is purple.

People wear sarees differently in different parts of the country. This is how we wrap sarees in Andhra, but we saw women wearing it differently in Mumbai. I'm sure we saw it differently at times in the North during orientation, but we didn't know enough about variations on saree-wearing back then to identify the differences. Traditionally, girls start wearing half sarees, which is a skirt, blouse, and piece of cloth acting as the front wrapped-around piece, when they begin menstruation, and then wear a full saree when they are married. However, today salwar kumeez's (pants and long kurta (top) suits with a matching dupatta (scarf) are quite common, and both unmarried and married women wear full sarees. Sometimes we see women wearing sarees over their heads, if the sun is hot or if they enter a temple. The Muslim women that I know in India also wear sarees or salwar kumeez's under their Burqa's (if they wear a burqa, which not all do).

People here get extremely happy when we wear Indian things. I wear a bindi ("dot") to work everyday and get reprimanded by Padma, our tea lady, if I forget to wear it. Sometimes they will veto our bindis - both Lily and I have had coworkers forcibly remove our bindis and replace them with stickers they felt were more suited to our faces (Lily wore a bindi that was too large; I wore a tiny silver dot the size of a comma, and a coworker took it off my head, removed her bindi from her own forehead, and replaced mine with hers). For Leah and Lauren, who live in the village, if they wear the saree, they need to wear the bindi, and the matching necklace and earrings and bangles, and the positive reinforcement they get form coworkers, who are just so super excited to see them all dressed up, is enough that they wear the whole shebang quite frequently.

Vacation catch-up - Agra

2008-01-28T01:20:00.000-08:00

My father, Milos and I hired a car to go to Delhi. At 7am our driver met us outside our hotel and we began the journey to Agra. He was a nice guy and my dad enjoyed talking to him, but I was annoyed because he took us to a really expensive tourist rest stop for lunch and when I complained about the price he said it was "normal" for India and I was like look pal I live in India, I'm not stupid these are American prices and he just smiled silently. He also neglected to mention that the Agra Fort closed at sunset (not sure if he was lying) and drove us past there saying we couldn't go inside. On the way home he took us to a marble dealer, and probably got a coupon or some money for doing so. He seemed mad that we didn't buy anything, as did the store owners. It's a cheap trick used by auto drivers and apparently other more costly drivers as well. Sometimes it is nice though because you get to see interesting wares, and if you have nowhere to be it is a nice thing to do for a nice driver (go in and check out their "friend's" merchandise).

Photo at dusk outside the 'closed' Agra Fort.

Outside the Taj Mahal, we paid foreigners price in rupees (they recently stopped accepting US dollars because of the declining value). After checking our sweatshirts (Delhi and the North is cold at this time of year!) and other non essentials and collecting our free water bottle (part of the international ticket price) we waited in line only to get to the front and be told no bags, no purses, no exceptions. We cursed and went back to the locker room, placing as much as we could in pockets and in my camera bag (which turned out to be an exception). Returning to the line, I was ushered through after being frisked behind a tiny curtain in the women's line, and waited on the inside for Milos and Chuck. As men in public places far outweighs the number of women, lines for women at temples, movie theaters, sites, etc. are generally much shorter.

There is an archway that you walk towards, through which the Taj Mahal slowly begins to materialize.

We spent hours at the Taj simply enjoying the view and basking in its glory.

Up close the Taj is no less impressive, with intricate details, beautiful carving, and extensive marble work.

Care hire to Agra: $120 (US dollars)
Ticket price: Rupees 750
Photos taken: 240
Postcards purchased: 12
Tips for "free" lockers: Rupees 10
Seeing the Taj Mahal in person: Priceless

Vacation catch-up - Delhi

2008-01-27T06:55:00.000-08:00

My father, Chuck, and my friend Milos came to visit me for two weeks in early December and due to having nearly 1000 photos and being extremely busy, I have until now neglected to post about the experience. We spent a week in the middle of their visits all traveling together to Delhi, Agra, and Varanasi.

Delhi was our first stop. We flew there and stayed in the ritzy Connaught Place. One day we went to Old Delhi.

We took the uber snazzy Metro, which has a futuristic look with its metal seats, digital signs, and clean appearance. The only difficulty is the lines/queues for the tokens and for exiting at each stop, as well as the moshpit-quality-shoving that you experience getting on the train.

I showed them around the streets of Chandi Chowk in Old Delhi as best as I could remember. We all got a bit overwhelmed by the narrow alleys filled with people, cyclerikshaws, motorbikes, vendors, smells, sounds, sights, but sensory overload is sometimes just part of the experience of India.

We went to the Red Fort on the way to Jama Masjid, and walked along the gate the whole length of the building.

We went to Jama Masjid, a gorgeous mosque in Old Delhi.

Privilege

2008-01-11T01:52:00.001-08:00

At each stop on the super modern and fancy-looking Delhi Metro, the recording of a male voice announces the name of the stop and implores passengers to give up their seat to those who are elderly, physically disabled, and ladies. Upon hearing each announcement, I promptly rolled my eyes, and looked around at the other women on the train, wondering if they felt similarly annoyance at this condescending equation.

Back home in Hyderabad, I take the bus home from work everyday with my coworker, Anu. The buses in India can be dangerous; sometimes one has to jump on or off the bus during what couldn't quite qualify in the States as a rolling stop. Buses in Delhi are constantly in the paper for running people over, or having people die as a result of speeding up as people are trying to jump aboard. The Hyderabad local buses have two entrances, both on the left side: the one in front for women, the one in back for men. The rationale is that the woman's door is safer, presumably because the driver can see when people have finished climbing into / exiting the bus, and can see if women are getting harassed. When crowded, sometimes one cannot even get off the bus when desired because it is impossible to get through the crowd. Roughly half of the seats towards the front of the bus are reserved for ladies: sometimes they are marked with signs; on other buses it is simply done, despite lack of signs. The first two rows on the left front side of the bus are reserved for elderly and physically disabled persons.

When I get on the bus, I can walk up to men sitting in the reserved-for-ladies seats and make them go back so I can sit. When I, or other women enter a bus, men will generally get up and move backwards to another seat or area. Sometimes this doesn't happen: too often men will refuse to give their seats to women, or people will fight over the disabled/elderly seats. Images are conjured of blacks rushing to the back to give way to white passengers and that of Rosa Parks being arrested to the minds of anyone who has studied the Montgomery bus boycotts. Though the comparison is symbolic, obviously not parallel, being a white privileged American in India riding the bus with people who are working class or most likely somewhat poor and having them automatically jump up from their seat as soon as they see me feels strange at best.

Do I have some sort of weakness, an ailment, a desperate need inherent in being a woman that makes it necessary for me to receive special treatment, guaranteeing me a bus seat over the majority male passengers? I don't like the idea that I would need a seat, that men should give up seats for women, that on the Metro women's sitting needs are equated with that of elderly and disabled bodies persons. This implies that women are weak, that they need special treatment because they are inferior and require protection. And yet...

Women here tell me that buses are perhaps the place where they face the most harassment from men. There are less women out in public compared with men, so although they might need less seats reserved (or none at all), a measure like that might ensure women would feel more safe to ride the bus and feel safe going out in public. Admittedly, I like that when I enter a bus, I am often given a seat. As the only white person in any given Hyderabadi bus (unless my roommates are with me), I attract a range of stares when I am on the bus, and standing at the front of the bus invites an audience of curious, amused, confused, and creepy looks. My NGO is currently working with the bus department to ensure that reserving bus seats for women is practiced. Evidently they feel it is an important women's issue.

My Intro to Women's Studies professor Dr. Shimizu posed the question: If we could achieve equality, would you be willing to give up certain perks? If we could have equal pay and not fear rape and domestic abuse, would we be willing to part with free entry to clubs on "ladies night" and the custom of men paying for dates? She said that in order to achieve equality both parties need to be willing to part with certain aspects of their privilege. If we had to give up reserved for women bus seats and insulting loudspeaker Metro announcements in exchange for someone guaranteeing that women would not having to face harassment or "eve teasing" in buses and in public, I would unquestionably agree that seat reservation based on sex category should be abolished. But one will not simply result from the other: giving up bus seat reservation will not make it so women can travel by bus without fear - it might inadvertently have the opposite effect. Changing laws and regulations is a necessary part of implementing social change, but does not cause social change in itself.

In working for a women's resource center, doing my best to subvert notions of natural gender restrictions by example, and living as best I can without fear in a country and world where women still face extreme inequality in various forms, I am doing my best to effect change for women in society and of gender as a concept. Until change occurs, however, I will continue to participate in what I see as simultaneously a privilege and condescension, and sit in the reserved for ladies seats on the bus. And roll my eyes at the Metro announcements. And fight for women's equality.

A Story: Mr Moyo goes to the Doctor

2008-01-02T02:49:00.000-08:00

'What is your job?' asked the doctor.
'I am a farmer' replied Mr Moyo.

'Have you any children?' the doctor asked.
'God has not been good to me. Of 15 born, only 9 alive,' Mr Moyo answered.

'Does your wife work?'
'No, she stays at home.'

'I see. How does she spend her day?'
'Well, she gets up at four in the morning, fetches water and wood, makes the fire, cooks breakfast and cleans the homestead. Then she goes to the river and washes clothes. Once a week she walks to the grinding mill. After that she does to the township with the two smallest children where she sells tomatoes by the road side while she knits. She buys what she wants from the shops. Then she cooks the midday meal.'

'You come home at midday?'
'No, no she brings the meal to me about three kilometers away.'

'And after that?'
'She stays in the field to do the weeding, and then goes to the vegetable garden to water.'

'What do you do?'
'I must go and discuss business and drink with the men in the village.'

'And after that?'
'I go home for supper which my wife has prepared.'

'Does she go to bed after supper?'
'No, I do. She has things to do around the house until 9 or 10.'

'But I thought you said your wife doesn't work.'
'Of course she doesn't work. I told you she stays at home.'

(Source: Presented by the Women and Development Sub-committee Ministry of Community Development and Community Affairs, Zimbabwe to Women's Regional Ecumenical Workshop, 26 June 1989, Harare, Zimbabwe).

A day in the life

2007-12-29T01:23:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine asked about my day-to-day activities, and I thought I would share it here.

On weekdays I get up between 7:50-8:20am. I put together some kind of food for lunch, either packing leftovers from dinner or cooking something new. At work we each bring a container of rice for ourselves, and then a dish to share (and sometimes also a bit of curd (plain yogurt) to share). I generally bring an Indian-style omelet (eggs, onions, green chili's, salt, chili powder, tumeric); potatoes with veggies and spice; veggie stir fry (sometimes with soy protein chunks which are available at our grocery store); egg fried rice with veggies; dal (lentils); chinese stir fry (tofu, veggies, soy sauce or ginger-garlic sauce). I also sometimes cook the night before so I don't have to cook in the morning.

If Lily is showering, she heats water for me on the stove after she is done with hers; if she isn't I get up and put on a pot of water for myself, which I then add to a 3/4-full bucket of cold water from the porch tap, or if that tap isn't working (as is sometimes the case), the tap in the other bathroom. I use a pail to use the now warmish water from the bucket to shower and wash my hair. (Even though I shower every day, sometimes when I rub my skin at night bits of black dead skin rub off. This is because of the pollution I am exposed to commuting to and from work, and just living in a polluted city. Even more disturbing is that sometimes my snot will turn black, filled with soot from the air. Yum.) I use Herbal Essences products, my brand from home, which I buy here in my supermarket for about the same price as Indian shampoo and conditioner I've seen here.

I get dressed in one of my 6 Kurta's (Indian tops) which I pair with Salwar pants and a dupatta (scarf) or my capri's or jeans, eat eggs or mango cornflakes with soymilk for breakfast, and head out the door with Lily, in search of an auto that will take us to work and charge us on the meter (usually not a problem to find). Lily takes me the 10-20 minutes to work, then takes the auto on to her work. Alone it costs me about Rs 30 ($.75); she pays about Rs 50 for the ride. I then walk about 10 leisurely minutes to work, stopping to watch/photograph the water buffalo that more often than not are walking the same route as me, sometimes guided by little kids or a man whipping them with a small stick, sometimes seemingly guided by themselves. Some of them have painted red horns.

My office starts at 10:00am and because I carpool with Lily, I arrive early and am the first to arrive besides our tea lady, cleaning lady, and chore boy. After taking the lift (elevator) to the fourth floor, I remove my shoes and place them in the shoe rack before walking into the office. At work I do various cool things, which most recently has involved creating a 30-day gender and human rights course that we intend to put on for college kids. 1:00pm is lunch, which involves us all putting our rice on our stainless steel plates and passing our other dishes around so everyone gets a bit ("Teskondi" they tell me, which means "take" in Telugu). Padma, our tea lady, puts two bottles of water and a couple cups, along with a bunch of stainless steel plates and spoons, on the plastic table cloth which she puts on the table/s. We use our right hands to eat, and our left hands to pass things, rip roti pieces (thin bread), serve ourselves from the stainless steel tiffins ("Boxes" they call them; we would call them metal tupperware) with spoons, and drink water. Water is consumed, whether from a communal or personal bottle/cup, by holding the container about 2 inches above one's mouth, tilting one's head back, and pouring into one's mouth. I can barely pour more than a mouthful without having to stop and swallow; they can poor entire full cups of water seemingly down their throats. Even little kids drink water this way; I have found it difficult to learn, but fun to try.

My office closes at 5:30, at which point I walk to the bus, usually with my coworker, Anu, who lives near me. It takes between 30-90 minutes to get home, depending on how long we need to wait for a bus, how long it takes for a bus to stop (sometimes they won't stop), and how bad the traffic is. The bus from work to home costs Rs5 which is about $.13 (thirteen cents). I exit the bus, occasionally jumping off as it slows in traffic nearer to my house than the bus stop is. I walk home, often stopping to buy vegetables on the way.

For veggies, we go to a more-or-less permanent vegetable stand, where we pay a fixed price per kilogram for our purchases. We are given a wicker or plastic bucket to collect our veggies in. I spend about 80-100 rupees ($2-2.50) on a huge bag of veggies: a dozen onions, a dozen tomatoes, garlic, eggplant, potatoes, cabbage, and carrots. When we want fruits we go to a mobile stand (usually a wooden cart with wheels that the vendors take wherever they feel business is best) and get whatever is in season. Mangoes haven't been available since we got here; custard apples were in for Oct-Nov (and I am going through withdrawal now that they are gone); oranges just came in season. It's strange eating produce based on what is seasonally available, though I suppose it's stranger living in a place where you can get any produce all-year round. We get the rest of our food from local grocery stores, such as rice, lentils, olive oil, honey, soy milk, tofu, Gouda, juice, cereal, pasta, jam, bread, papadum. We actually eat a mostly vegan and wheat-free diet in the house, with the exception of eggs and toast for breakfast, and cheese as a treat.

We spend between 1-2.5 hours cooking dinner every night. We have a rice maker, several pots, a microwave, two burners and no oven. We have a medium-sized fridge that our landlord gave us.

Other activities include going out with our friends, watching movies, having friends over for dinner, going to good restaurants, reading, writing snail mail (email me if you want a postcard!), doing laundry in a bucket, going to tourist areas such as the lake or a park, cooking, chasing mosquito's with a tennis racket-shaped bug electrocution toy, and for me most recently, sleeping in a mosquito net because we suddenly have tons of mosquitos. I brush my teeth with filtered water because the tap water is bad (unsuitable for drinking).

"Can I ask you about your dot?"

2007-12-01T21:40:00.000-08:00

After work, I was walking to the bus with Anu, who lives near my neighborhood. She was saying that I would be the center of attention when I went to the communalism workshop in the village of Mahbubnagar. I told her I don't mind when women and children stare at me, because the women generally smile back when I smile at them, and the kids like to say "hi! hi! hi!" and are super cute. It's the men staring that bothers me, because it is creepy and if I were to smile at them, as I do with the women, it would be interpreted disturbingly incorrectly. I know I'm a foreigner, I told her, but I still don't like the assumption that I am rich/easy/exciting just because I am a white woman. Why do all these men have to stare at me?

Anu was silent for a moment, and then asked me what would happen if an Indian woman came to America - would they get similar treatment?

"Oh no," I said. "They might stare, but it would be less sexual and more just because she was different... and we might talk louder to her, even if she spoke perfect English because people who speak English with an Indian accent are assumed to be intermediate in their English-speaking abilities, and ask her if 'Indian' was her first language... and we might institutionally discr iminate against her, but just a little, and somewhat subtly... and we might not stare so overtly in public, but instead fetishize her... And if it were an Indian Muslim women who wore a Burqa we would definitely stare, and comment in an airport that she would be thoroughly searched, because she is likely a suicide bomber, or part of an islamofacist terrorist mutiny, and talk openly about how oppressed she was by her men because she has to wear that awful thing, because clearly no woman would ever willingly choose such a burden, and...

"Oh."

Oh Lily, you came and you brought me a turkey

2007-11-22T12:01:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving in India! My roommates and I made a Thanksgiving dinner tonight. The three of us were joined by Sylvia, the 72 year old American volunteer at Shlayma's work from NYC, and Blanca, a woman from Madrid who recently moved into our neighborhood and is attending the Nutrition Institute in Secunderabad. We had no oven, no turkey, and three vegetarians (me, Shlayma and Blanca), so we were quite unsure what to make at first...

Our first course was a spread of appetizers. The gherkins and olives were a rare treat, despite not being very good.

For our main course, Lily made an unbelievable "turkey" made of mashed potatoes, carrots and eggplant.

I think Lily should focus her future on being a food artist...

We also had green beans and apple cider, and a rice stuffing that I made. For the stuffing, I mixed red and white rice, and put in onions, green onions (scallions), mushrooms, green pepper, walnuts, cashews, apple, raisins, tumeric, coriander, chili powder, and salt.

Blanca and Sylvia brought the desserts, though by that time we were pretty much too full to eat anything.

As I neglected to make a Halloween dinner post last month, I have to end with further proof of Lily's artistic ability with food.

Mashed potato head with a knife and blood, lentils/dal as "bloody guts", steaming apple cyder, green beans aka "snakes in the grass", and carrots as ladies fingers.

What an artist.

Diwali

2007-11-14T08:35:00.000-08:00

Diwali is the Hindu festival of lights. Technically Diwali (also known as Deepavali) is a 5-day festival, but last Friday, what I believe is the third day, was the most important (I think). In preparation for Diwali, many people clean their houses and buy new clothes to wear on Diwali. They also may decorate their houses with drawings and candles. In Hyderabad, everyone burns crackers (firecrackers), and there are lots of firework shows on display, most of them amateur. Many people told me that eating sweets is also part of Diwali. It's a big holiday in India and though we had heard a lot of hype about it, we still had no plans or idea what to do on Wednesday. And then, Thursday morning, the invitations started rolling in.

Thursday night we had dinner at Shlayma's boss's house. She dressed Lily and Shlayma up in Saree's (I was already wearing a brand new Salwar Kameez that I got stitched from material I bought the week before).

Shlayma, me and Lily

Friday morning we went to brunch at a restaurant with Lily's boss, her husband, and another of Lily's coworkers. We did not eat breakfast since we were on our way to brunch. On our way out the door, we grabbed a box of sweets to offer to our neighbors from our floor, who we have only said hello to so far. We knocked on each of their doors, bearing a box of sweets from which they could pick and choose their favorites. The first took, retreated into her flat as her little daughter took our sweets, and returned moments later with a plate with three fried chapati's (flat circular bread). The second held out her own box of sweets as we held out ours, and we exchanged sweets. The third woman invited us in, and gave us square pieces of bread-like substances fried in ghee (special butter) and sugar. So all in all, despite trying not to eat before brunch, we had about 2000 calories each before leaving our apartments.

Our neighbors handpainted their door frames in preparation for Diwali.

When we finally made it to brunch, we all ordered Dosa's, one of my favorite South Indian foods. Shlayma ordered a paper dosa, which is thin but huge
Paper dosa

Lily and I went to my coworker's house for her Pooja and then for dinner and burning crackers. The Pooja was really interesting, they had an elaborate alter with many offerings and a small statue of the goddess Lakshmi (who they worship during Diwali, or maybe just during this day of Diwali...). The offerings included candles, a banana, a coconut, a custard apple (my favorite fruit), cashews, several sweets, and flowers. My coworker's sister-in-law sang all 1008 (yes, one thousand and eight, not a typo) of Lakshmi's names.

Lakshmi's alter for the Pooja

Aparna and me

While burning crackers in the yard, we heard and saw crackers being burned in every direction, from probably every house. It was very loud and bright and intense. We took an auto to Banjara Hills, where a friend of an old volunteer names Apoorva (now our friend) lives. We got charged extra since it was the night of a holiday, which was OK because we were lucky we got an auto at all. The drive was filled with crazy blasting sounds and fire and light coming from various places. Sometimes we would have to stop short because people were burning crackers in the street.

Me burning a sparkler

At Apoorva's we met up with Shlayma and a friend of someone on our program in Mumbai who was in Hyderabad for a job interview. The 5 of us did a small Pooja, then used the candles to do Shabbat. It was a nice sharing of religious ceremonies, and it was nice for Apoorva because it was his first Diwali away from his home in Delhi (he moved to Hyderabad for work). Apoorva's mom sent a box of fancy chocolates from a famous sweet shop in Delhi; Lily, a chocoholic, was in heaven all weekend.

Fancy chocolates

We watched fireworks from Apoorva's roof, which overlooks the city. There were fireworks from about 6 directions, all night; all night, and all weekend, there were crazy loud booms and bangs going off all over the city.

This is looking out off Apporva's roof during the day

Saturday we went to Chutney's, a nice restaurant, and then walked in this pretty park. We went out with Apoorva's friends to a club at the Taj Krishna, a posh 5-star hotel in Banjara Hills. It's strange going to a club, or even to most places in Banjara Hills, and seeing so many people donning Western clothes; in the club I think I was the only one wearing Indian garments. At work I am the only one who regularly wears any Western articles; my boss once wore a polo shirt and jeans, and a coworker wore a t-shirt with a skirt last week.

All in all, it was a lovely 4-day festival Diwali weekend in Hyderabad.

Lost and found

2007-10-31T00:03:00.000-07:00

The autorikshaw's in Hyderabad/Secunderabad have been on strike for about 36 hours. Yesterday morning I took the bus entirely incident-free (I take the bus home, but hadn't yet taken it in the morning since I carpool in an autorikshaw with my roommate). So this morning I waited at the theoretical bus stop (which actually involves less of waiting at a bus stop, and more or waiting in a general area and trying to spot the right bus number then chasing it down as it comes to a moving stop, depending of the traffic) and hopped on several 250's, and each of them told me no, we are not going to Rail Niliyam. I didn't understand why, but finally got on one that said although they were not going there, they would go to Secunderabad. 'Oh good,' I thought, 'I know how to walk to work from Secunderabad bus station.'

So I get out at Secunderabad, and find I don't recognize anything... I walked around and headed in the direction I was pointed by several bus employees. I saw a bunch of vacant auto's lined up along a busy road, and then about 50 men on foot holding red signs, formed a huge circle at the large intersection, and began chanting. Moving away from the striking auto drivers' movement and traffic-blocking tactics, I walked some more and found myself at - Secunderabad railway station. I was nearly late for work, and so I asked an elderly gentleman where was Rail Niliyam? He said, "wait a few minutes and I'll drop you there." So we waited for his daughter and son-in-law to arrive on a train, then they drove me to my work neighborhood, and I arrived only 10 minutes late to work.

I also lost my wallet last weekend, or the change purse I was using as a wallet so as not to lose all my important cards, so I only lost a bunch of cash and my Debit card (I'd visited the ATM to get money the day before I lost it).

A couple photos

2007-10-24T03:07:00.000-07:00

One day near the end of the workday, a bunch of my coworkers asked to see photos of my family and school. This is about one third of the women who work in my office.

This is me on my first day in India, wearing my two backpacks, which is all that I brought to India

Maybe TV is right, TV is always right...

2007-10-17T03:27:00.000-07:00

We have a TV in our office, though it's covered with some cloth and I didn't notice it until last week when several women turned it on periodically to check the score in the cricket Australia vs. India games.

Just now, they turned it on again, and everyone who is in the office (several women are out today on various trainings) came and crowded around. I inquired about the commotion and someone explained that it was a wedding of a famous Telugu movies star's second daughter. I was confused as to why this was exciting to them, let alone newsworthy. The wedding wasn't particularly glamorous, and I thought perhaps the lines of squiggly Telugu going by on the news screen might have offered some sort of explanation (but alas, my Telugu training does not start until next week).

After several minutes of watching, they turned of the TV. One of them noticed my bewildered look and said, "that is the daughter of a famous movie star. She is getting married... against her parent's wishes." I asked how they knew that, and they said why else would it be so sensationalized by the press?

My knowledge of arranged marriages is still quite limited. I know that it is quite common in India, and seems to involve parents choosing a match for their child based on various factors. The divorce rate is much lower; however, divorce seems to be heavily stigmatized here, and the blame is placed largely on the woman (regardless if she left an abusive relationship, she is criticized for not having been able to take care of her husband). Of the various married women in my office, many of them had arranged marriages. My supervisor had a 'love marriage' also known as a 'choice marriage'; my counterpart (who is my age) said she would never have an arranged marriage. Someone from Shlayma's work asked me if I would have an arranged marriage or a love marriage, and I tried to explain that arranged marriages aren't really something we consider in my culture. One of my roommates said a woman in her office told her about her arranged marriage. She said that she was too shy to speak to her future husband, so he would come over and talk and she would listen. She never spoke to him until their wedding day.

I'm trying to be aware of the fact that I am in a different culture where they have different customs and beliefs that are informed by different values, call it being culturally sensitive or having an open mind. I like the fact that I am working with an Indian NGO that is working on issues they see as important for women in India; I don't know if I would be comfortable working for a Western NGO that was intent on making change in some foreign country, imposing our views on them. Us vs. Them. The civilized vs. the Other. This way, I know I am working alongside 20 individuals who believe that we need to change the position of woman in India - and each of these individuals are female and Indian, and are educated in fields related to our work.

Getting set up

2007-10-09T10:36:00.000-07:00

My towel had ants on it so I threw it in a bucket with some soap and left it overnight, and then rinsed it for about an hour but it was till soapy, so I let it try and it is now a cloth-rock. So I bought a new pink fluffy large fancy towel, which only cost me about $6.00.

We have two bathrooms in our flat. The water doesn’t work in one bathroom, the one that has the Indian style toilet and shower head and sink. We shower with a bucket which we take from the tap in the other bathroom or from the tap on the balcony (where we hang out laundry). We have no form of hot water besides boiling some on the stove and mixing it with water from the tap in a bucket. We have a tank that we need to turn on so it fills up, and turn off when it was full. When it is full, it overflows through a tube into a large bucket in the bathroom.

We do laundry in a bucket. Packaged Tide here has directions for doing bucket laundry.

We don’t have AC (nor do we need it right now since it is Monsoon season which equals extremely nice weather). We have two fans in the living room/dining room area, and a fan in each bedroom.

Sometimes the power goes out randomly (this happens at work, too). It usually comes on after about 20 minutes or so. Not always. We keep flashlights, candles and matches nearby so we are can continue cooking or eating when the power goes out. It sucks when the power goes out on a hot night (this happened in Delhi) just as you are trying to fall asleep, and you try and ignore the happy heat taking over as the fan slowly winds down and turns off.

No one seems to refrigerate anything here. When we were refrigerator shopping we couldn’t find any used ones, and all the new ones were really expensive. In this country, electronics can be a lot more expensive that the USA, as opposed to food and clothing and other things, which are a lot cheaper.

When we arrived in Hyderabad, someone from Lily's work collected us from Secunderabad train station. We took cabs through horrendous traffic and finally arrived in Tarnaka. We went to the wrong apartment building and terrified several tenants by knocking on their doors and asking if we were living there - turns out we were about a block and a half from our place. Below is several of us Southerners in the rain, wearing/carrying our luggage and looking annoyed as we searched for the correct apartment buildings. Also below is Lily, Shlayma and I after being caught in monsoon rains after grocery shopping:

Last weekend my roommates and I went to Osmania University and walked around. We found a nice building and a garden:

There is a park near my work. This is a photo of it; as seen in the picture, there is frequently garbage on fire in this park:

These are the signs outside my work. On the second sign, the characters below the English are Telugu:

Per request of my lovely uncle, I have added some photos on previous entries (such as the train journey) – see below.

Working hard or hardly working?

2007-10-04T01:55:00.000-07:00

Our Hyderabad flat is nice. It’s a 2-bedroom, and Shlayma and I each have our own room (Lily has shelves and a bed in my room, too – technically we share a room but she sleeps in the living room on the bed we use as a couch). We have been sharing cooking and cleaning. We’ve found various markets to shop, we buy fresh vegetables every other day or even everyday, and experiment with cooking, especially in our new rice maker. We also have an Idly maker, and have been making instant Idly – yum! We live in a residential neighbourhood in Tarnaka, in Secunderabad (Hyderabad and Secunderabad are twin cities). Shlayma walks about 50 feet to her NGO; Lily and I carpool in the morning and she drops me off then takes the aoturikshaw to her work, about 40 minutes away. Mine takes about 15-30 minutes, depending on traffic. I have been taking the bus home for the past few days. We both use handkerchefs to cover our mouth during the autorikshaw ride so we don't have to breath in as much pollution.

So far I really enjoy my work. There are about 20 women in my office and they are extremely nice. There are no men in my NGO, with the exception of a boy who does our errands (locks and unlocks the office, goes to the post office, gets breakfast or lunch from a local hotel restaurant if we want it, etc). (I can’t help but wonder if there is something to the fact that we are an all-female organization, except for this boy, who is our bitch.) We have a tea lady who brings everyone their personalized version of chai at 10:30ish and 3:30ish. I always thank her, and she laughs and thanks me back, or does the traditional head-nod that means "yes" in India, particularly in the South (moving one's head side-to-side). My roommates and I are each getting quite good at he head nod, and even do it in answering each other.

We have the entire floor of an apartment building. When you arrive on the fourth floor in the lift (or stairs if the power is out), you remove your shoes and place them in the shoe stand. When you go in the bathroom, there are two pairs of communal shoes, one larger, one smaller, to wear into your choice of an Indian of Western stall.

At lunchtime, everyone in the office sits at a large circular table and puts what they brought in the middle of the table. “Take some and pass it,” they say to me every time they hand me anything. We eat with our right hand (never with the left hand, never with silverware) off of metal plates. There is always more than enough rice, and I get to try various home cooked Indian dishes, which vary every day. Things are spicy, but I have been OK with everything I have eaten so far here. Home cooked Indian food is very different than food you get in Indian restaurants in the states or even in India. I try and bring something each day, but so far have been a bit embarrassed by my cooking skills (in part because of my limited cooking experience, in part because I’m not sure how to cook with Indian spices, and in part because we just don’t have that much cooking stuff yet at our flat and don’t know the best places to buy food). One time I brought mango cornflakes, but everyone took some when I passed it. Today I brought banana’s and put in an order for a Dosa (a rice-flour filled with potato dish) from the hotel.

For the first few days I read the annual reports of my NGO and read an alternative report of India on CEDAW (UN Commission to End Discrimination Against Women) which has helped me better understand what my NGO does, and has made me more familiar with women’s issues in India. I went to two trainings: One was at a girl’s college for girl child day, and we did a photo exhibit on the girl child with these beautiful photos by this professional photographer, then screened a movie on the girl child (made by my NGO) and had a discussion and open forum with the students (about 300). The other was at a college near where I live, and we held an essay and poster competition on women’s issues. 50 participants came, 4 of them boys, and made 45 essays and 5 posters. Participants arrived at 10:0am and had 2 hours to write an essay or design a poster. They could write in English, Hindi or Telugu; I helped judge the 20 or so essays in English, and gave out the prizes to the winners.

For the past week I have been working on making a data base of women’s studies and gender issue articles that have appeared in Economic and Political Weekly in the past 20 years. This has also helped familiarize me with relevant issues specific to India as I read abstracts on many articles each day, then compile the title, issue and volume number, date, and keywords into an excel document.

Monday, I met with my supervisor. She has written with one of my favourite gender and development authors, Nira Yuval-Davis. She told me that the Indian government is forming an Equal Opportunities Commission (EOC) to deal with discrimination across gender, sex, class, race, religion, caste, and disability, as well as combinations within these category (double or multiple minorities). The UK and Australia have EOC’s but these deal exclusively with gender and sex discrimination. The government is putting together a committee of 7 experts to design the structure, functioning, issues, and remedial powers of this commission. My supervisor is the only woman on this committee, along with a Dalit man, a Muslim man, and some other representative men (though all men). Their committee meets today for the first time, and has about 3 months to come up with a report and plan for the EOC design. For the next 3 months, I am doing research on the EOC, and the intersection of multiple minority statuses, for my supervisor and her role as a member of this committee. So far this seems like the perfect job.

Hyderabad at last

2007-09-23T04:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Yom Kippor. I had a stomach sickness for two days before it, so after deliberation decided to fast with water (instead of with no water). Being in India on Yom Kippur, seeing people who are poorer than I can really comprehend, people who have no choice whether or not to drink clean water (tap water in India is contaminated, at least for drinking purposes), was quite a powerful experience. We fasted from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday; Friday we each left work early and went out to a restaurant; saturday we cooked dinner in our flat. Lily has been sick since we broke the fast and has been throwing up today. Wednesday and Thursday my stomach was hurting really badly, but I still managed to go to work since I felt fine other than that. I went to a doctor on Thursday night, it cost 150 Rupees ($3.75) to see the doctor at the emergency clinic at 11pm, and I got to see her immediately. She told me to drink liquids and gave me a prescription that I opted against taking.

Between trains

2007-09-16T05:27:00.000-07:00

This morning we took 5 cabs down the mountain at 6:15am. The 17 of us took the train from Deridun to Delhi. Although it was a 7 hour ride, we were in second class AC (yes, air conditioning) and in sleeper berths. I thought they were very comfortable and am now feeling good about our Delhi-Hyderabad 21-hour ride, which begins 3 hours from now.

There are two Americans that lived above our hotel near Mussoorie. They hung out with us while we were at the hotel. On Friday they invited us up to their flat and through a party. It was a nice goodbye.

Tomorrow in Hyderabad...

Sleeper train photos

Porters carrying Shlayma's giant bag

Pictures from Delhi

2007-09-12T04:38:00.000-07:00

Now that I have figured out how to put photos in my blog, here are some from the four days the 6 of us Southerners spent in limbo in Delhi. I went sightseeing with Leah and Lily and saw many interesting things.

We went to the Baha'i/Lotus temple:

It has 9 pools around it which act as a natural cooling system.

We also went to the Qutub Minar, which has a minaret (huge tower) and some wicked ruins:

We went on a tour of Old Delhi with Leah's Indian friend:

A few days earlier, Leah and I visited Humayun's Tomb, which was incredible:

Delhi is quite hot in August, and because the city is so polluted I constantly have dirt under my fingernails from scratching bites or rubbing sweaty dry skin. But I like Delhi.

Haridwar

2007-09-11T05:24:00.000-07:00

We don't have Hindi classes on the weekend, so this weekend I took a trip to Haridwar, a holy city on the Ganges river.

Rachel, Lily and I took a cab down the mountain to Deridun, which took 1.5 hours and cost Rs600 ($15.00). From there we took a bus to Haridwar, which took 2 hours and cost Rs35 (About 85 cents).

We found a hotel on Upper Road
We went out to eat at a restaurant called Big Ben. We had an amazing dish called Kashmiri Dumaloo - yum! Also Big Ben had a basin-style toilet with footholds on the basin - so instead of sitting, or squatting (like the Indian style toilet) you step up onto the basin, and then squat.

We walked around the bara bazaar (big market) and eventually turned right and came out at the Ganges. The Ganges is a holy river that is 2,510 kilometers. People make pilgrimages to Haridvar, as well as Rishikesh (a nearby holy city known for its many white hippie tourists and frequented by Israeli's), and especially Varnassi. Each night at sundown, there is a Puja (ceremony) in Haridwar on the Ganges, so we attended.

The sheer number of people there was overwhelming.
They chanted prayers to the Ganges in Hindi, and at times thew up their hands in unison. Some washed themselves in the river, several drank the water (to cleanse themselves of sin). Many people bought leaf bowls with flowers in them, set them on fire, and sent them down the river as offerings to the Gods. The whole ceremony was quite incredible to watch. Although I didn't understand what was going on, I was very moved by observing people praying and chanting.

We had dinner with an Israeli girl we met, one of the few white people we saw in Haridwar. The next morning we went to a temple on top of a small mountain, which we had to take a cable car to get to. There were so many people going to the temple, and everyone crammed into metal line barricades (like they have a an amusement park). After we got into the line, we no longer feared being trampled, and enjoyed seeing the different alters and puja's inside.

We took a bus back to Deridun, and a bus up the mountain to Mussoorie, where we arrived just in time to see the festival in honor of Krishna's birthday. Kids were dressed in full makeup and jewelry on floats, and put on performances for the many spectators.
Their costumes were incredible and put any of my past Halloween costumes to shame. Some of the kids sat motionless, posed with a flute or balancing on stacked pots for several hours. It was very cool to watch.

Happy birthday Krishna

2007-09-05T06:25:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was Krishna (the god)'s birthday. He was born maybe 5000 years ago at around midnight. Hindu people fast all day from when they wake up until midnight. They bring fruit and dessert offerings to the temples, and at midnight the offerings are passed out to everyone and there is a huge celebration.

My friend Leah and I walked to Mussoorie after Hindi class, which is about a 45 minute walk. We heard music and commotion from far away, and saw decorations as we got nearer. There were gold plastic streamers and colored lights along this long pathway leading to a large temple. People were walking up and down the walkway. We wanted to check it out but weren't sure if we should (after all, it was a religious ceremony and we didn't want to be inappropriate). So I went up to an elderly couple and asked if we could go in. "oh yes, too bad you weren't here before or we would have taken you. We've just come out," they said. Then they said: "We'll take you!" So they walked us down the glittering pathway and showed us where to leave our shoes (in the big pile of shoes outside the temple). Then we went in the temple and stood with other people who were praying towards an alter as other people rang large bells and a male voice chanted over a loud speaker. After about 20 minutes everyone threw orange flower petals into the alter, and a man at the alter threw water at the crowd. Then the couple took us back out, and we thanked them and said goodbye.

After eating in town, we began to walk back up to our hotel. We passed through Landour, and went into another temple. Everyone was sitting on blankets on the floor. Men were on the left and women on the right, though it was not strictly segregated. The women there wore amazing sparkly beautiful sari's and salwaar kumeez's, evidently dressed up for the holiday. There were women in yellow and orange robes on the right of the stage and men in white robes on the left; all were seated. The men played drums while the women sang and pne also played a keyboard. The temple again was beautifully decorated, and people everywhere made offerings to various alters around the room. The music and the energy was quite amazing.

On the way out several men talked to us about Hinduism and asked us a little about our religion. They gave us their card and said to visit more of their centers.

Back at the hotel, a group of us went to a local Puja (celebration) near our language school. We went in and got dots painted between our eyes and string bracelets on our wrists. We sat, women in from, men in back. I was given a metal instrument, kind of like a large long cymbal to play by the older women in front of me (she seemed happy to be rid of it). After a few minutes, the boys beckoned to us and we left; someone had told them we needed to leave because, as this was in a government building, no foreigners were allowed.

Hindi training

2007-08-31T22:53:00.000-07:00

The 6 of us spent 4 days in Delhi waiting for some news on our immediate future, and finally were sent on a train up north, back to Mussoorie. Now we are with the rest of our original group (17 fellows total) and have just begun intensive Hindi training. We have had one day and have already learned about 20 vocab words, how to ask basic questions, and about 20 characters of the Hindi alphabet. We were supposed to go South so we could learn Telugu, but they couldn't find a teacher in Delhi or here, which is why we are learning Hindi now. Hopefully they will get us a tutor in Telugu when we finally get to our placements (though supposedly almost everyone in Hyderabad speaks English, but I'd still like to learn for field work and just to be respectful).

We are staying at a hotel near the language school. We are about 45 minutes from where we were two weeks ago. It's also really beautiful here and if you walk high enough when it is clear you can see snow capped mountains in the distance. There are monkeys everywhere, swinging from trees, playing in the road, and occasionally swooping down to steal plastic bags containing fruit purchased at the market.

In Delhi, 6 of us stayed in our director's 2 bedroom flat which was pretty cramped. I went to several places with Lily and Leah, including the Bahai Lotus temple, these amazing ruins called Qutub Minar, went to old Delhi and visited the spice market and the wedding district, and saw a Bollywood movie entirely in Hindi (though the plot was pretty simple and Leah translated about a third of the movie since she took Hindi at Harvard).

I'll try and put some pictures up eventually.

Terror in Hyderabad

2007-08-26T05:32:00.000-07:00

...is the headline screaming from the television and all the Indian newspapers this morning. Last night, as us World Partners Fellows enjoyed our last dinner together before the Hindi-learning group headed north and the Telugu-speaking group south, our field officer took a call on her cell phone just as the food arrived. She said everything was fine, though took several more calls during the meal.

When we arrived back at the hotel, she asked to speak alone with the 6 southern-bound fellows, which seemed like a normal request since she would be traveling North early the next morning, while we would be taking a 25-hour express train to Hyderabad the next evening. We would arrive Monday evening.

Once we were all together, she said: "Two bombs went off in Hyderabad tonight. We are canceling your train tickets and you are staying in Delhi until further notice."

So now we are in Delhi at our field officer's flat (she is up north), hanging out and waiting until we hear something. According to the India times, in addition to the 2 bombs that went off, they found 19 others that they diffused, in a variety of locations such as bus stops, each contained in a black plastic bag. The ones that did go off were in an amusement park during a laser show, and at a popular eatery. As it was Saturday night, both venues were quite crowded. The media is claiming that the blasts killed at least 41 people.

So now we wait.

Delhi

2007-08-24T04:25:00.000-07:00

We are back in Delhi for 4 days, then Sunday those of us who ae placed in Andrha Pradesh in the South take a train to Hyderabad for our language training.

I got a bit sick from eating paneer tikka at this kebab place. So did 4 others who ate there; the rest were fine. We went to McDonalds and got McVeggie burgers. In India places like McDonalds have a vegetarian menu that is about the same size as the non-vegetarian menu, and everywhere has a color-coded system for veg and non-veg (green and brown).

I went to the Modern Art museum in Delhi then went shopping at an outdoor market and got a purse for Rupees 100 ($2.50).

The internet is pretty slow. The weather is hot, but not unbearably so.

Mussoorie

2007-08-16T03:17:00.000-07:00

I finally made it out of Boston, spent a lovely night in London with my friend Ashley, had lunch with my friend Amanda (who had just returned from studying in China), and returned to Heathrow on Sunday afternoon. I met up with the other fellows on my flight and the 8 of us flew to Delhi. We spent the day walking around and looking at shops and had lunch in this fancy restaurant for about $5 bucks each. We spent the night in a hotel.

Early Monday morning we boarded a bus and spent the day driving to a learning center called SIDH just outside of Mussourie. It's in the foothills of the Himalayas. It was pretty terrifying driving up the winding roads in a big bus. You never know when a car, cow, goat, person, bike, or somethign completely random will be in the road. Drivers beep constantly here, to tell people to hurry up (even when sitting in traffic and cannot move), to warn others they are coming around a bend (so, nearly constantly while driving in the mountains), and, seemingly, just for fun. I'm finding being a passenger pretty scary, but the drivers seem to know what they are doing.

We are staying in dorms at SIDH. We are doing orientation, which includes sections on Indian history, American Jewish World Service policies (e.g. don't break the law in India), development, etc. We get 3 yummy vegetarian meals a day, as well as chai tea at breakfast and afternoon break, and lemon/honey tea at late morning break.

We arrived after dark on Monday. When I woke up and finally had struggled out of my mosquito net and found my glasses, I spent about an hour just sitting outdoors and staring at the beautiful, breathtaking mountains. Since we are in the mountains, it's pretty cool up here, unlike Delhi which was constant sweating weather, even at night.

I used my first squat toilet, which wasn't nearly as intimidating as it seemed. I'm taking malaria pills and applying bugspray twice a day. I took a couple of bucket showers, and this morning for some reason we had hot water, so I took a luxurious hot water bucket shower.

I am online now because we had a free afternoon and came to Mussoorie. We are here at SIDH until Wednesday, then travel back to Delhi for 4 days, then us Southerners travel to Hyderabad for language training.

I'm still adjusting to being here and being in the big group (there are 17 of us fellows, all Jewish American young adults who graduated college in the past 3 years). I think I'll be more settled once we arrive in my city and move into our flat.

Delayed in Boston

2007-08-11T06:04:00.000-07:00

The day of departure has arrived! I stayed up late condensing all my stuff into my backpackers backpack and a book bag-sized backpack (the woman who checked me in was very impressed with my one checked bag when I told her I would be in India for 10 months). I look strange walking around with one backpack on my back and the other positioned awkwardly over my arms on the front. Since I am transferring through Heathrow, I can only have one carry-on bag (additional personal item, such as a laptop or purse, is prohibited for all flights originating or transferring through Heathrow).

I'm at my gate in terminal E using wifi, waiting for an update on the status of our flight. Right now it is 55 minutes after our original scheduled departure time. I'm supposed to spend the night in London at the flat of Ashley, my good friend and all 3-terms Oxford rowing buddy. I was due to arrive at 7:40pm, and her place is an hour 15 minutes from the airport. Hopefully we will board and take off soon, or I might end up searching Finsbury Park in the middle of the night... Then me and 7 other AJWS fellows fly to Delhi tomorrow at 5:40pm. After a couple days in Delhi, we go to Musoorie for 10 days of training, during which I am not likely to have internet access.

Now for the waiting game...

Info on my organization

2007-08-02T07:24:00.000-07:00

Overview of the organization:

It started as a space for women to come together and subsequently developed into an organization with a strong feminist perspective. it has put gender perspective into Andhra Pradesh. The organization has many projects which include:

legal counseling for women
training for women & men for governance, leadership, politics – rights based trainings to create awareness for people around human rights;
research on gender, women’s history – producing publications in several language about women’s rights & human rights, gender and domestic violence;
work with Telegu women writers in AP, now extended to women writers all over India, last February they extended to South Asia;
cultural interventions – 2 dance ballets that are educational & educational films as well;
campaigns & media interventions;
minority & disability rights

The organization functions as a state level resource organization for women provides technical and training support to host of grass root and women organization in the whole AP state

Volunteer Assignment:

Myla will be expected to assist the organization in the in the following areas of work:

Assist with research around legal advocacy campaign for women’s rights in AP. In that area Myla can do research with the guidance of another professional who works with the organization

Prepare training module on legal literacy for college students

Involvement in leadership trainings and other initiatives as determined by fellow & staff.

Field Visits
It will be important for Myla to gain first hand knowledge of the organization's work in the field. On average she will be joining the staff on field visits for about 3-4 days in a month.

Key Dates:

Myla will arrive in India and will join the rest of World Partner fellows for a month orientation and language exposure in Hyderabad. After the completion of Language course she will be expected to join the organization from September 17 and through June 2008.

Living Accommodations:

Myla will be sharing the recently acquired two bedroom flat with other WP partners in Hyderabad.