1. Niranjana mummy took me to two villages to see where the girls come from. Surprisingly, the government has built roads in even the most interior of places to make travel feasible, so we managed to get to one house. As for the other one, we got to the village but monsoon + dirt road = no cars, so I couldn't see the house. Both houses were absolutely beautiful and clean with rice paddy fields everywhere on the outside. The house I did see even had a refrigerator inside...definitely was not expecting that, considering Niranjana mummy told me the girls was one of the poorer ones. I couldn't have guessed so unless she had said something.
2. The absolute worst place to be bitten by..hmm..let's see here..five fricking mosquitos is on your feet. I can think of a few worse places but I'm talking only from personal experience here. Your feet will itch and itch and itch until you're sick of scratching your feet (as you try to walk) and after a certain point, you will be jumping around like a maniac because itching doesn't solve anything. But neither does jumping.
3. Oh yeah, project is done, minus the morning shoot. It's just so hard to wake up at 4:30 am and get to the ashram. I did manage to crank out a 30 page report which has no significant findings in it. If you don't count the appendices, it's more of a 15 page report but I felt compelled to stick to a true researcher's ways and have more appendices/footnotes than material.
4. It seems that people in India believe in buying guests presents before they leave. For me, that means every uncle/aunt/cousin I have here (and there are a lot of them) will buy me insane amounts of clothes, jewelry, shoes, etc. until I say, "If you buy me anything more, I'll throw it away." I said no a billion times when the gifts first started coming in, but at this point, I know they will buy things anyway so I just go with it. All the clothes I brought from the U.S. are staying here so there's actually room in the bags.
5. People don't want to talk when I put a camera on them so the documentary will be boring. Thus, do not ask me if you can watch it.
6. I have ten days to eat everything remotely Indian I can possibly eat. Ideas? Let me know.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Two Weeks Left
Exactly two weeks and three days until I'm back to the U.S. and quite frankly, I'm glad. Though, I'm sure the next two weeks will be incredibly short. It's not that I haven't enjoyed working at Sardar Kanya Vidyalaya; I just feel it had it's time limit and it has come. As for the research part, I can get everyone done by the end of this week, which is good. As far as the documentary goes, I need to interview a couple of parents and get to the school bright and early at 5 a.m. one morning to document the beginning of the day. Should be fun.
A few random thoughts:
1. I was literally forced to shop yesterday. The only option was to buy clothes. Who does that? My uncle, that is. No complaints, I suppose. I have enough clothes now to last me for the next two years.
2. There will be a total solar eclipse in the city at approximately 6:20 a.m. in two days. The only one to happen in the country until the 2100s. Something I def. shouldn't miss, but I have no other option. Unless I drive in India, which is a sure fire recipe for disaster. That's not because I'm a bad driver, but because India is full of bad drivers. Imagine something I witnessed today:
It's a narrow two-lane highway that happens to be busy as always, and that too with huge trucks. That worries no one. A car overtakes a motorcycle and my cousin simultaneously overtakes the car overtaking the motorcycle. Two lanes. True story.
3. The new Harry Potter movie disappoints and I can't remember if I have read the book or not. Now I have something to do on the train ride to Mumbai and on the plane back. Plus, need to read the last book.
I completely forgot to write about my trip to Chennai, a city in South India. I went there for three days two weeks ago. I landed at the airport and went to lunch, which was eaten with my hands on a banana leaf. Everything was eaten by hand, including sambhar which has a soup-like consistency. A difficult task, but fun. It was a lot of South Indian food in one sitting though, and I haven't felt like eating it again since I came back.
Other than eating, I saw many ancient temples, one of which was incredibly ancient and situated on the sea-side. It was aptly named the sea-shore temple, though I doubt that's what they called it back in the days. I also went to a South Indian culture preservation site called Dakshinchitra and bought a lot of wall decor. On the last day, I went to the beach. It was 8:30 a.m. and there were already two groups of guys playing cricket on the sand. I'm not quite sure how that works since the ball can't bounce...but it was funny to see that much enthusiasm for the sport that early in the morning. The rest of the beach was..well...polluted. Nothing out of the ordinary after having seen Goa. In fact, on the way to Chennai, the plane went over the ocean for about 10 minutes and I could literally see trash floating on the water. The city itself was quite polluted as well. Much more, it seemed, than Mumbai and definitely much more than anywhere in Gujarat. I suppose it's difficult given that it's huge. I was told that going from East Chennai to West Chennai is a 70 km journey.
It was truly strange being in South India. I would never imagine that the culture would be so different between the two parts of the country. To begin with, despite being one of the major metropolitan areas in India with quite a bit of foreigners residing there, Chennai's people stick to traditional Indian clothing. That's a rare sight in Mumbai. Also, people are much more religious in the south. Temples open at the early hour of 5:00 a.m. and they have visitors. Plus, I often saw women who had put turmeric paste on their feet and/or on their face. I'm not sure what the significance is, but it was a little shocking to see at first. Oh yeah, the worst part...it seemed every other woman had a white flower garland in her hair. Theoretically and visually, perhaps it's all nice and peachy but the smell! They start to smell stronger and stronger every time and then they give you a headache but no, you can't escape them because they're everywhere. Like zombies - the escape part, not the headache. Anyway, the best part of Chennai was the coconut water. Sweet, refreshing, and delicious. And the coconut cream inside was equally as good.
A few random thoughts:
1. I was literally forced to shop yesterday. The only option was to buy clothes. Who does that? My uncle, that is. No complaints, I suppose. I have enough clothes now to last me for the next two years.
2. There will be a total solar eclipse in the city at approximately 6:20 a.m. in two days. The only one to happen in the country until the 2100s. Something I def. shouldn't miss, but I have no other option. Unless I drive in India, which is a sure fire recipe for disaster. That's not because I'm a bad driver, but because India is full of bad drivers. Imagine something I witnessed today:
It's a narrow two-lane highway that happens to be busy as always, and that too with huge trucks. That worries no one. A car overtakes a motorcycle and my cousin simultaneously overtakes the car overtaking the motorcycle. Two lanes. True story.
3. The new Harry Potter movie disappoints and I can't remember if I have read the book or not. Now I have something to do on the train ride to Mumbai and on the plane back. Plus, need to read the last book.
I completely forgot to write about my trip to Chennai, a city in South India. I went there for three days two weeks ago. I landed at the airport and went to lunch, which was eaten with my hands on a banana leaf. Everything was eaten by hand, including sambhar which has a soup-like consistency. A difficult task, but fun. It was a lot of South Indian food in one sitting though, and I haven't felt like eating it again since I came back.
Other than eating, I saw many ancient temples, one of which was incredibly ancient and situated on the sea-side. It was aptly named the sea-shore temple, though I doubt that's what they called it back in the days. I also went to a South Indian culture preservation site called Dakshinchitra and bought a lot of wall decor. On the last day, I went to the beach. It was 8:30 a.m. and there were already two groups of guys playing cricket on the sand. I'm not quite sure how that works since the ball can't bounce...but it was funny to see that much enthusiasm for the sport that early in the morning. The rest of the beach was..well...polluted. Nothing out of the ordinary after having seen Goa. In fact, on the way to Chennai, the plane went over the ocean for about 10 minutes and I could literally see trash floating on the water. The city itself was quite polluted as well. Much more, it seemed, than Mumbai and definitely much more than anywhere in Gujarat. I suppose it's difficult given that it's huge. I was told that going from East Chennai to West Chennai is a 70 km journey.
It was truly strange being in South India. I would never imagine that the culture would be so different between the two parts of the country. To begin with, despite being one of the major metropolitan areas in India with quite a bit of foreigners residing there, Chennai's people stick to traditional Indian clothing. That's a rare sight in Mumbai. Also, people are much more religious in the south. Temples open at the early hour of 5:00 a.m. and they have visitors. Plus, I often saw women who had put turmeric paste on their feet and/or on their face. I'm not sure what the significance is, but it was a little shocking to see at first. Oh yeah, the worst part...it seemed every other woman had a white flower garland in her hair. Theoretically and visually, perhaps it's all nice and peachy but the smell! They start to smell stronger and stronger every time and then they give you a headache but no, you can't escape them because they're everywhere. Like zombies - the escape part, not the headache. Anyway, the best part of Chennai was the coconut water. Sweet, refreshing, and delicious. And the coconut cream inside was equally as good.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Gandhiji Would Have Been Proud, Partly
I asked three girls from each grade – a total of nine students – to look over a survey for me, mainly to ensure they understand the text and the questions.
“Let’s sit away from the other girls since they are studying,” I told them. “Why don’t you sit on the benches outside of Niranjana ben’s home?”
There are two green benches and a swing that seats two right as one walks through the school’s gates, all of which sit outside of Niranjana ben’s small home. When Niranjana ben, the school’s founder and director, is on campus, one can almost always find her on the swing during the evenings, with various visitors sitting on the benches and keeping her company. As she talks with her guests, she keeps an eye on the girls who are supposed to be doing homework but often end up chatting with each other.
The nine girls walked the 10 feet and I handed them the survey and its cover sheet. I walked over to the swing and sat down.
A few of the girls started sitting on the ground which, thanks to the incoming monsoon weather, was crawling with makkodas – black insects that look like ants, only magnified ten times.
“You can all sit on the bench,” I said.
They looked at each other confusingly and proceeded to sit on the ground.
“It’s okay. Seriously, please sit on the bench,” I repeated.
Two of the girls got up and moved to the bench, while the others stayed put. One of the girls situated on the ground yelled at the two bold ones who dared move up.
“What are you doing? You can’t sit there!” she told them.
“It’s really okay. You can all move to the bench,” I said one more time.
My reassurance only managed to keep the two girls on the bench where they were. The rest of the seven girls read the survey sitting on the concrete, and I sat on the swing with guilt for the ten minutes it took them to look over the pages I had given to them.
Such class divisions are so prominent at Sardar Kanya Vidyalaya, a school founded on Gandhi’s principles – or rather Gandhiji’s principles, as the girls once corrected me.
In the short five weeks I have been here, four people have inquired about my caste – two of them volunteer instructors and the other two students. I simply don’t see why it matters, and neither has anyone else I have known - even when I lived in India. I had foolishly thought this age-old system which determined one’s status in life had died a decade-or-so ago in the slowly progressing India.
SKV, though, managed to flash reality right in my face. The girls here, all of whom grew up in poverty and are therefore mostly from the lower ranks of the menacing caste system, don’t sit on benches. They sit on the ground unless given permission by Niranjana ben or an authority figure. And they never, ever sit on the swing. That’s only set aside for Niranjana ben and her special guests. Even Eela ben - who serves many vital roles as the school assistant, the school nurse, Niranjana ben’s maid, and her cook - doesn’t dare sit on the swing. That, of course, isn’t surprising given that she doesn’t eat with Niranjana ben or her guests – something I learned after I once foolishly asked her to join us at the table.
“She’ll eat later,” Niranjana ben had said in a voice that bordered on laughter.
Of course, I had thought to myself. Someone needs to serve the food...
Such reminders of class/caste divides present themselves regularly at SKV. They almost always come up in verbal remarks so I rarely pay attention. However, when I see that they are so engrained in the girls’ minds that they need permission to sit on a few pieces of wood, it’s hard to fully appreciate SKV’s excellent efforts to bring education to these girls, especially when I’m told that SKV runs on Gandhiji’s principles. I’m sure seeing trivial rules that separate castes would make him proud…
Ironically, when I asked three of the girls what they liked best about SKV, they all said the same thing: the sanskaras. The values and everyday teachings they are taught here.
“Let’s sit away from the other girls since they are studying,” I told them. “Why don’t you sit on the benches outside of Niranjana ben’s home?”
There are two green benches and a swing that seats two right as one walks through the school’s gates, all of which sit outside of Niranjana ben’s small home. When Niranjana ben, the school’s founder and director, is on campus, one can almost always find her on the swing during the evenings, with various visitors sitting on the benches and keeping her company. As she talks with her guests, she keeps an eye on the girls who are supposed to be doing homework but often end up chatting with each other.
The nine girls walked the 10 feet and I handed them the survey and its cover sheet. I walked over to the swing and sat down.
A few of the girls started sitting on the ground which, thanks to the incoming monsoon weather, was crawling with makkodas – black insects that look like ants, only magnified ten times.
“You can all sit on the bench,” I said.
They looked at each other confusingly and proceeded to sit on the ground.
“It’s okay. Seriously, please sit on the bench,” I repeated.
Two of the girls got up and moved to the bench, while the others stayed put. One of the girls situated on the ground yelled at the two bold ones who dared move up.
“What are you doing? You can’t sit there!” she told them.
“It’s really okay. You can all move to the bench,” I said one more time.
My reassurance only managed to keep the two girls on the bench where they were. The rest of the seven girls read the survey sitting on the concrete, and I sat on the swing with guilt for the ten minutes it took them to look over the pages I had given to them.
Such class divisions are so prominent at Sardar Kanya Vidyalaya, a school founded on Gandhi’s principles – or rather Gandhiji’s principles, as the girls once corrected me.
In the short five weeks I have been here, four people have inquired about my caste – two of them volunteer instructors and the other two students. I simply don’t see why it matters, and neither has anyone else I have known - even when I lived in India. I had foolishly thought this age-old system which determined one’s status in life had died a decade-or-so ago in the slowly progressing India.
SKV, though, managed to flash reality right in my face. The girls here, all of whom grew up in poverty and are therefore mostly from the lower ranks of the menacing caste system, don’t sit on benches. They sit on the ground unless given permission by Niranjana ben or an authority figure. And they never, ever sit on the swing. That’s only set aside for Niranjana ben and her special guests. Even Eela ben - who serves many vital roles as the school assistant, the school nurse, Niranjana ben’s maid, and her cook - doesn’t dare sit on the swing. That, of course, isn’t surprising given that she doesn’t eat with Niranjana ben or her guests – something I learned after I once foolishly asked her to join us at the table.
“She’ll eat later,” Niranjana ben had said in a voice that bordered on laughter.
Of course, I had thought to myself. Someone needs to serve the food...
Such reminders of class/caste divides present themselves regularly at SKV. They almost always come up in verbal remarks so I rarely pay attention. However, when I see that they are so engrained in the girls’ minds that they need permission to sit on a few pieces of wood, it’s hard to fully appreciate SKV’s excellent efforts to bring education to these girls, especially when I’m told that SKV runs on Gandhiji’s principles. I’m sure seeing trivial rules that separate castes would make him proud…
Ironically, when I asked three of the girls what they liked best about SKV, they all said the same thing: the sanskaras. The values and everyday teachings they are taught here.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Random Thoughts, Events, and Such
I'm clearly getting incredibly lazy with the blog, so my apologies for the 2-3 dedicated readers. It's partly because everytime I get online, my two year old niece comes running to the computer and asks me to show her nursery rhymes on Youtube. Of course, one song isn't enough so I have to listen to 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' instead of updating this. Anyway, a lot has happened in the last week so here goes:
1. I was told not to teach 10th grade since they are constantly overwhelmed with work for the board exam. It's understandable, but I have no idea how they'll manage to score well in English. I'm now teaching 9th grade (still working on sentence formation). The first lesson turned into a question-and-answer session about my life and theirs. It was fun and eye-opening for both me and them.
2. IRB finally approved my proposal, so I can start the research part of the project. I'll be looking at what the girls want to do - educationally and professionally - once they graduate from SKV and how the school can guide them. This week is going to be busy. Today will be spent translating consent forms, surveys, and interview questions with the help of Google. Hopefully, I'll be done with surveying the girls and interviewing the 4 teachers at the school by the end of the week and can start on focus groups with the girls next week.
3. The documentary is coming out slowly. I interviewed all four teachers (they weren't very talkative or helpful). This week, I'm hoping to interview a girl from each grade to get to know their lives. I'll hopefully get a chance to go to their villages and see their homes, talk with their parents, etc. It should be busy but fun.
4. MONSOON HAS ARRIVED!!!!!! I'll actually have to go buy a couple of pairs of jeans now that it's not super hot anymore. Oh, yeah...also need to dance in the rain.
5. The multiplex movie theater strike is over!!!! Movies have been coming out since last week (about time!), so I have something to do during the weekends. Each weekend, I go to Surat, a nearby city, and have lots of fun - mostly eating food. Now I can add movies to the list. Anyway, I watched 'New York,' and excellent movie about illegal detention and torture of Muslims in NYC after 9/11. Yes, a Bollywood movie was good for a change but that wasn't the best part.
Get ready for this...each of the seats was literally a recliner sofa for one! And that's not all. You get the luxury of watching the movie with a blanket and a pillow. Holy crap indeed. Greatest movie watching experience ever.
The multiplex has 6 theaters, each one decorated according to a country (e.g. Egypt). Well, last weekend, I watched a movie in the Russian theater. Hilarious experience because the doors, the walls, and each seat was adorned with the Commi hammer and sickle. That would never happen in the U.S.
6. Last Thursday, I was listening to Aarti ben, the English teacher, give a lesson to the 9th grade and they were learning common English phrases. Here's what a few minutes sounded like:
Aarti ben: What do you say when something is good?
Silence
Aarti ben: Come on class, what do you say when you like something?
Silence
Aarti ben: For example, when you see a beautiful girl on the street, what do you say?
Muttering
Aarti ben: You say, "Very nice."
Then the class repeated, "Very nice," and I burst out laughing. Rude? Yes. But you couldn't have helped it either.
7. I may have mentioned this before but everyday, the girls and the teachers sit in a large hall from 3:30 - 4:00 pm and use the spinning wheel, better known as charka by Gandhians, like the one pictured above. They have gotten much more compact since Gandhi's good ole days, so I'm considering buying one and learning how to use it while I'm here. Here's the thing, though - what would I do with all the yarn? I'm pretty sure hand weaving machines are way complicated and expensive...
Alright, that's it for now. Pictures of Bardoli (the town I'm in), the Ashram, and the school are up, so you can check them out here!
Friday, June 19, 2009
"What does 'jam' mean?"
I'll keep this one short for a change -
It's so easy for me to forget the backgrounds of the girls I'm working with until little incidents remind me. Two days ago, I asked my nine 8th grade students to read a short story which contained the word "jam." I asked them if they knew what it was, and no one had any idea. I never realized eating bread and jam was a luxury...
So, I bought a loaf of bread and a big bottle of jam. I'll get the verdict on the taste today. Buying them food is also presents little conundrums - do I buy it just for my 8th grade students? All 8th graders? The whole school?
I also bought the 8th grade girls books. The books goes through the alphabet, numbers, birds, animals, etc. I gave them the book during the beginning of class and half way through, a girl hesitantly asked me how much they owed me. They're the ones low on money and yet, they're willing to pay. The books were only Rs. 18 each, so it was no financial burden and even if they cost more, what's the SOL grant money good for?
So that's the 8th graders and then there are the 40 10th graders. Where do I even start? Two days ago, I asked if anyone had trouble reading or writing and of course, be it because of shyness or arrogance, no one raises their hand. So, I give them a little pop quiz the next day. I read 4 questions about a story we had read and ask them to write their answers in full sentences. Not one single person can write a sentence properly. I got things like "The children was were the giants garden play."
40 students who have been studying English for 2 years now, and none of them know how to form a sentence, so what exactly are they being taught? I still can't get over it. They keep telling me they want to learn to speak English. I've decided they need to learn to write sentences before they can speak in sentences.
So, here are the goals for the 1 month I'm here:
1. The 9-8th grade students should be on the same reading level as everyone else, which means reading on a 1st grade level.
2. The 10th graders should be able to form declarative sentences.
I think that's achievable....
P.S. Pictures of the school coming soon.
It's so easy for me to forget the backgrounds of the girls I'm working with until little incidents remind me. Two days ago, I asked my nine 8th grade students to read a short story which contained the word "jam." I asked them if they knew what it was, and no one had any idea. I never realized eating bread and jam was a luxury...
So, I bought a loaf of bread and a big bottle of jam. I'll get the verdict on the taste today. Buying them food is also presents little conundrums - do I buy it just for my 8th grade students? All 8th graders? The whole school?
I also bought the 8th grade girls books. The books goes through the alphabet, numbers, birds, animals, etc. I gave them the book during the beginning of class and half way through, a girl hesitantly asked me how much they owed me. They're the ones low on money and yet, they're willing to pay. The books were only Rs. 18 each, so it was no financial burden and even if they cost more, what's the SOL grant money good for?
So that's the 8th graders and then there are the 40 10th graders. Where do I even start? Two days ago, I asked if anyone had trouble reading or writing and of course, be it because of shyness or arrogance, no one raises their hand. So, I give them a little pop quiz the next day. I read 4 questions about a story we had read and ask them to write their answers in full sentences. Not one single person can write a sentence properly. I got things like "The children was were the giants garden play."
40 students who have been studying English for 2 years now, and none of them know how to form a sentence, so what exactly are they being taught? I still can't get over it. They keep telling me they want to learn to speak English. I've decided they need to learn to write sentences before they can speak in sentences.
So, here are the goals for the 1 month I'm here:
1. The 9-8th grade students should be on the same reading level as everyone else, which means reading on a 1st grade level.
2. The 10th graders should be able to form declarative sentences.
I think that's achievable....
P.S. Pictures of the school coming soon.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Me...A Teacher...?
I haven't updated this in a while, but getting on the internet here is quite a nuisance.
The sickness subsided after a day, but my stomach remained on the uncomfortable side. It's all okay now and I'm back to eating food I shouldn't be eating. It's all delicious. And there's this pizza place in town which, surprisingly, makes legit tasting pizza! The subs though...not as good.
As far as actual work is concerned, last week was incredibly slow. I was barely at the school, Sardar Kanya Vidyalaya (SKV), because I had nothing to do. I did receive a book last week about the school and its programs, and it had the girl's daily schedule. Here's what it looks like:
4:45 am – Wake up, write prayers in the notebook
5:15 am – Mass-prayer
5:30 am – Yoga
6:00 am – Eat refreshments
6:45 am – Clean according to what batch one’s in. This includes cooking/cleaning dishes and the kitchen, watering plants/cleaning the garden, cleaning classrooms and the teacher's office, cleaning school grounds, or cleaning bathrooms.
7:15 am – Bath and wash clothes
8:15 am – Eat breakfast and finish cleaning
9:55 am – Begin school prayer
10:10 am – 5:00 pm – School
5:15 pm – Evening cleaning according to batches
6:00 pm – Eat dinner and wash dishes
7:15 pm – Evening prayer
7:30 pm – Homework
9:15 pm – Bedtime
This is the schedule Monday-Friday, every week of the school year, unless it's one of the 4 celebrated holidays. It's an absolutely absurd schedule that requires a work ethic I don't even think I'm capable of having. They girls at SKV, on the other hand, are forced to go through it because they were born into a poor household. It's the worst for the 10th graders. They have to take an exam given by the state at the end of the year, so they have to stay before school and after school to prepare for the exam. Upon passing the exam, they can choose which area they want to focus on for the last two years of high school: science, arts, or commerce. The girls at SKV, though, are urged to score well so they can get accepted to a good school after they graduate from SKV. So, they're literally taught the test.
It's a really frustrating state-wide system. The kids are forced to choose which area they want to go into at an early age, and the teachers are forced to teach to pass the exam. Outside of SKV, when the kids aren't in school, they're in tutoring classes. And the academic atmosphere is so competitive that kids are being put in tutoring as early as 2nd grade. It's absurd.
Anyway, my job at the school from now on will be to teach English to 8th graders and 10th graders. All girls take English classes during school time. For about 10 girls in the 8th grade, though, English is a huge challenge. They come from really rural areas where schooling is incredibly poor. The 10 girls I'll be working with literally don't know how to read English, which is a huge problem given that they're put in a class of about 40 girls everyday and are asked to read and comprehend writing that is well beyond their level. So, I'm stuck Googling "how to teach reading" and still left clueless. We worked on phonics yesterday, so hopefully reading simple Dr. Suess poems won't be too much of a leap.
As far as the 10th grade girls go, they simply don't know grammar, but are more interested in reading stories. They're fun to work with though, and they're mischievous, especially this one girl, Mamta. She loves to talk but hates to focus. She keeps asking me for my phone number in the U.S. so they can keep in touch with me once I leave. I'm there for well over a month, though, so what's the hurry?
Everyone at SKV, even after 3 weeks, still keeps staring at me and laughing. At this point, I'm starting to think they're laughing at me rather than laughing out of amusement for seeing someone new. I don't really mind - many of them have rarely been in the city, let alone seen a girl wearing shorts. They other day, I mentioned I had learned Italian. They asked me what that was and then asked me to say something. So, I said 'Ciao. Come stai?' and now, everytime I enter the classroom, they shout ciao!
So, in short, my SOL placement is finally beginning to pick up but as far as the research part of the project goes, I'm still no where. My adviser was supposed to call me 'early this week'...whenever that is.
In other news, monsoon was supposed to start yesterday, but word is it may not come until next week. I can't wait until it rains...I'm getting really angsty at this point. I haven't seen rain in over a month and I want the heat to subside a little. Just one more week...
The sickness subsided after a day, but my stomach remained on the uncomfortable side. It's all okay now and I'm back to eating food I shouldn't be eating. It's all delicious. And there's this pizza place in town which, surprisingly, makes legit tasting pizza! The subs though...not as good.
As far as actual work is concerned, last week was incredibly slow. I was barely at the school, Sardar Kanya Vidyalaya (SKV), because I had nothing to do. I did receive a book last week about the school and its programs, and it had the girl's daily schedule. Here's what it looks like:
4:45 am – Wake up, write prayers in the notebook
5:15 am – Mass-prayer
5:30 am – Yoga
6:00 am – Eat refreshments
6:45 am – Clean according to what batch one’s in. This includes cooking/cleaning dishes and the kitchen, watering plants/cleaning the garden, cleaning classrooms and the teacher's office, cleaning school grounds, or cleaning bathrooms.
7:15 am – Bath and wash clothes
8:15 am – Eat breakfast and finish cleaning
9:55 am – Begin school prayer
10:10 am – 5:00 pm – School
5:15 pm – Evening cleaning according to batches
6:00 pm – Eat dinner and wash dishes
7:15 pm – Evening prayer
7:30 pm – Homework
9:15 pm – Bedtime
This is the schedule Monday-Friday, every week of the school year, unless it's one of the 4 celebrated holidays. It's an absolutely absurd schedule that requires a work ethic I don't even think I'm capable of having. They girls at SKV, on the other hand, are forced to go through it because they were born into a poor household. It's the worst for the 10th graders. They have to take an exam given by the state at the end of the year, so they have to stay before school and after school to prepare for the exam. Upon passing the exam, they can choose which area they want to focus on for the last two years of high school: science, arts, or commerce. The girls at SKV, though, are urged to score well so they can get accepted to a good school after they graduate from SKV. So, they're literally taught the test.
It's a really frustrating state-wide system. The kids are forced to choose which area they want to go into at an early age, and the teachers are forced to teach to pass the exam. Outside of SKV, when the kids aren't in school, they're in tutoring classes. And the academic atmosphere is so competitive that kids are being put in tutoring as early as 2nd grade. It's absurd.
Anyway, my job at the school from now on will be to teach English to 8th graders and 10th graders. All girls take English classes during school time. For about 10 girls in the 8th grade, though, English is a huge challenge. They come from really rural areas where schooling is incredibly poor. The 10 girls I'll be working with literally don't know how to read English, which is a huge problem given that they're put in a class of about 40 girls everyday and are asked to read and comprehend writing that is well beyond their level. So, I'm stuck Googling "how to teach reading" and still left clueless. We worked on phonics yesterday, so hopefully reading simple Dr. Suess poems won't be too much of a leap.
As far as the 10th grade girls go, they simply don't know grammar, but are more interested in reading stories. They're fun to work with though, and they're mischievous, especially this one girl, Mamta. She loves to talk but hates to focus. She keeps asking me for my phone number in the U.S. so they can keep in touch with me once I leave. I'm there for well over a month, though, so what's the hurry?
Everyone at SKV, even after 3 weeks, still keeps staring at me and laughing. At this point, I'm starting to think they're laughing at me rather than laughing out of amusement for seeing someone new. I don't really mind - many of them have rarely been in the city, let alone seen a girl wearing shorts. They other day, I mentioned I had learned Italian. They asked me what that was and then asked me to say something. So, I said 'Ciao. Come stai?' and now, everytime I enter the classroom, they shout ciao!
So, in short, my SOL placement is finally beginning to pick up but as far as the research part of the project goes, I'm still no where. My adviser was supposed to call me 'early this week'...whenever that is.
In other news, monsoon was supposed to start yesterday, but word is it may not come until next week. I can't wait until it rains...I'm getting really angsty at this point. I haven't seen rain in over a month and I want the heat to subside a little. Just one more week...
Monday, June 8, 2009
Ugh Oh...
I spent the last weekend in a beautiful state of food heaven. Pani puris, dosa, various Indian desserts, ras, and even a latte and a doughnut to satiate my quest to find American junk food in India. No, it was not a mango doughnut - just a chocolate one - but I wasn't laughed at. At the cafe, I saw my second person with curly hair!
Anyway, the bliss only lasted for the weekend. I awoke today in a seemingly normal state but as soon as I had breakfast, diarrhea came to mock me for my eating party over the weekend. After lunch came nausea and vomiting, and both visited again after I had water three hours later. Dinner is staying put so far, so perhaps that's a good sign. It was inevitable...and the food was so worth it. Where's Pepto Bismol when you need it, though?
Anyway, the bliss only lasted for the weekend. I awoke today in a seemingly normal state but as soon as I had breakfast, diarrhea came to mock me for my eating party over the weekend. After lunch came nausea and vomiting, and both visited again after I had water three hours later. Dinner is staying put so far, so perhaps that's a good sign. It was inevitable...and the food was so worth it. Where's Pepto Bismol when you need it, though?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
A Slum-Free Future?
During the elections last month, a new party called Congress won the majority of seats on almost all levels, so the newspapers have been filled with upcoming changes in the government. A woman by the name of Prathibha Patil was named the new President and one of the promises she has made is to make India slum-free in the next five years. It's certainly progressive, ambitious, and necessary, but also completely unrealistic in five years. Regardless, the motivations are good; Kant would be proud. Let's see where it goes in five years.
Here's the article:
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Will-India-be-slum-free-in-5-years/articleshow/4618346.cms
Here's the article:
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Will-India-be-slum-free-in-5-years/articleshow/4618346.cms
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The project begins...sorta
I made my first visit to Swaraj Ashram on Monday. It’s my community partner for my SOL project. There’s a residential school at the ashram for 8th – 10th grade tribal girls and I was originally going to be looking at factors that motivate these girls to attend high school. After going through the annoying IRB process, it turns out I’ll have to significantly change my project. My adviser is not responding to my e-mails, so I’m not really sure what I’ll be doing here for the next 2 months. Fortunately, I brought a camcorder and a lot of miniDVs, so I suppose I can keep making small documentaries if all else fails.
It’s a little strange coming to the Ashram everyday. I was born in Bardoli – the town I’m working in – so a lot of people seem to know me. The cute-but-scary woman who is in charge the school, Niranjana Kalarthi (I call her Niranjana mummy), is probably in her 70s. She keeps mentioning how my mom used to bring me to her after I was born and she used to play with me. I’ve heard the same thing from at least 3 other people who regularly visit Niranjana mummy and they’re in awe of how big I am now.
Everyone seems to know Niranjana mummy, including the state’s governor. She worked with Sardar Patel, who worked side-by-side with Gandhi in the independence movement, and has now devoted herself to activism and the school. Most activists, historians, and politicians – especially in the state – seem to know her and during the three days I’ve been at the ashram, she’s been visited by a LOT of people.
The school doesn’t start until next week, but 10th grade girls have started classes since they have a big exam at the end of the year. I sat in one of their social studies classes and it was fairly amusing. The lesson was about Indian heritage and why the country is the best in the world when it comes to its culture, both social and political. One of the reasons was the fact that India has never waged a war against another nation. As for the other reasons, my Gujarati isn’t good enough to understand.
The best part about the class was that the instructor kept referring to ideas or things that the girls would understand. All the girls come from various villages and grew up in really rural traditions. So, the teacher would refer to differences between how they would eat and how a Brahmin would eat. I didn’t appreciate her differentiating between castes, especially given that the school runs on Gandhian principles, but the girls didn’t seem to mind. They kept laughing throughout.
The teacher also told them about how India is advancing in population and will soon move past china, but this is nothing to be proud off. She then drilled into their heads that the best, most economically sound thing to do when they grow older is to have only one child as opposed to seven.
Aside from providing progressive education, there are absolutely no servants in the school. So the girls wake up at 5 am, clean the school, make breakfast, attend school, do homework, and go to bed by 10 pm. Niranjana mummy says this will prepare them to be independent, no matter where they go in the future. It’s tough, but she’s definitely right.
A few random thoughts:
- I had mango corn flakes for breakfast! They have everything mango here. They were pretty good; just a little too sweet.
- I finally did get that mango doughnut. It was DELICIOUS. They guy at the debit card counter recognized me and laughed at me...again.
- I've finally gotten used to the heat and sweating right as I get out of the shower doesn't bother me anymore.
- I had a staring contest with a cow on the street yesterday. The cow won.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Wanderings
I write after a blissful week of computer-free travels, so I have much to say.
I began with 4 days in Goa, a coastal area 12 hours south of Bombay by train, and the place was absolutely beautiful. It had hills, mountains, beautiful rivers and streams accented with palm trees and fishermen boats, and beaches all within one area.
I went with my 2 cousins and their families, boarding the train circa midnight and arriving in Goa 12 hours later, tired and cranky. The train ride was loud, shaky, and just overall bad but the worst was yet to come. On day 1, we went to an old fort with pretty views and a pretty small lighthouse and/or prison holding cell. I couldn't figure out which one. We then went to one of the beaches where I obtained my battle scars from jet skiing in the rough waters. Hurricane and monsoon seasons were on their way, so the waves come with force and gust. I believe there was a red flag, indicating that swimming or engaging in water sports is prohibited but eh. It's India.
We also saw old Portuguese houses and churches. Goa's architecture is unique, bright, and beautiful, even more so then the architecture elsewhere in the country. Looking at the details and colors in buildings here truly makes me want to study architecture after Duke.
The ride from Goa to Surat - the city where I partly grew up when I lived here - will likely be my worst experience here. The TWENTY hour ride was hot, humid, sticky, sweaty, and all other things that can be said about Indian heat. Plus, my obsession with cleanliness which had slowly been on the decline since arrival kicked into full gear once we boarded the train. Before we could sit down, we had to use a newspaper and wipe the dead bugs and/or dead flowers, plus dirt, off the seats which were already covered with strange stains. Literally every family around me had an unbelievably loud child or loud children who loved to cry and shriek in their highest pitches a lot. Needless to say, I did not sit, eat, drink, or do anything else properly the entire 20 hours. Sleep did not come. When it did, I would awake thinking we were 30 minutes away from home, only to find the train had once again decided to stop in the middle of nowhere to further delay arrival in Surat, and bring me one step close to killing someone.
We did finally arrive in Surat and I spent the next couple of days recovering from all the lost sleep, bad hygiene, and anger. This was does simultaneously with being dragged to different houses for visits to family friends/relatives where I answered the same questions over and over and over again.
The questions continued into Saturday and Sunday, when I went to Mandavi, a tiny town near Surat where my uncle lives. As a child, I used to come to Mandavi all the time, especially during summers, and stay with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. At that time, they didn't have a TV or any toys, so I would wander around town. I would walk up to a temple in the mornings and look down at the river that passes by. There's a bridge that still remains there; it was destroyed decades ago during a monsoon flood. I only got a glimpse of it this time but when I was younger, I would stare at it forever. I still wandered a little when I went to Mandavi and ate all the wonderful Indian junk food I used to eat.
It was nice going back. It's one of the few places I remember well and can still go back to. The other two houses I grew up in have been sold and completely changed. Mandavi was the end of travelling part of the trip (for now). I started my SOL project today - more on that to come.
I began with 4 days in Goa, a coastal area 12 hours south of Bombay by train, and the place was absolutely beautiful. It had hills, mountains, beautiful rivers and streams accented with palm trees and fishermen boats, and beaches all within one area.
I went with my 2 cousins and their families, boarding the train circa midnight and arriving in Goa 12 hours later, tired and cranky. The train ride was loud, shaky, and just overall bad but the worst was yet to come. On day 1, we went to an old fort with pretty views and a pretty small lighthouse and/or prison holding cell. I couldn't figure out which one. We then went to one of the beaches where I obtained my battle scars from jet skiing in the rough waters. Hurricane and monsoon seasons were on their way, so the waves come with force and gust. I believe there was a red flag, indicating that swimming or engaging in water sports is prohibited but eh. It's India.
We also saw old Portuguese houses and churches. Goa's architecture is unique, bright, and beautiful, even more so then the architecture elsewhere in the country. Looking at the details and colors in buildings here truly makes me want to study architecture after Duke.
The ride from Goa to Surat - the city where I partly grew up when I lived here - will likely be my worst experience here. The TWENTY hour ride was hot, humid, sticky, sweaty, and all other things that can be said about Indian heat. Plus, my obsession with cleanliness which had slowly been on the decline since arrival kicked into full gear once we boarded the train. Before we could sit down, we had to use a newspaper and wipe the dead bugs and/or dead flowers, plus dirt, off the seats which were already covered with strange stains. Literally every family around me had an unbelievably loud child or loud children who loved to cry and shriek in their highest pitches a lot. Needless to say, I did not sit, eat, drink, or do anything else properly the entire 20 hours. Sleep did not come. When it did, I would awake thinking we were 30 minutes away from home, only to find the train had once again decided to stop in the middle of nowhere to further delay arrival in Surat, and bring me one step close to killing someone.
We did finally arrive in Surat and I spent the next couple of days recovering from all the lost sleep, bad hygiene, and anger. This was does simultaneously with being dragged to different houses for visits to family friends/relatives where I answered the same questions over and over and over again.
The questions continued into Saturday and Sunday, when I went to Mandavi, a tiny town near Surat where my uncle lives. As a child, I used to come to Mandavi all the time, especially during summers, and stay with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. At that time, they didn't have a TV or any toys, so I would wander around town. I would walk up to a temple in the mornings and look down at the river that passes by. There's a bridge that still remains there; it was destroyed decades ago during a monsoon flood. I only got a glimpse of it this time but when I was younger, I would stare at it forever. I still wandered a little when I went to Mandavi and ate all the wonderful Indian junk food I used to eat.
It was nice going back. It's one of the few places I remember well and can still go back to. The other two houses I grew up in have been sold and completely changed. Mandavi was the end of travelling part of the trip (for now). I started my SOL project today - more on that to come.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Arrival
After spending three days in Bombay, a few things certainly hit you. There's of course, the poverty, but there's also the wealth, and the two sides don't seem to meet.
Yesterday, my relatives took me to a local mall and it was lavish beyond belief. There were outrageously priced, international designer shops, each one personally guarded by a man forced to dress in an outfit that can't look anything but ridiculous. There was also a good dose of international food which I was really grateful for, but I couldn't figure out the payment method, which consisted of obtaining a temporary debit card. So, I got 50 rupees on a card. I then excitedly went to the DOUGHNUT shop where they had MANGO donuts! The cashier first laughed at the way I pronounced mango (I was supposed to say maan-go), and then proceeded to tell me I only had 35 rupees on the card for a 40 rupees donut. I asked the debit card guy why this was the case and he also laughed at my inability to understand the system, so I just gave up on eating. It's not over, though. I will get that man-go doughnut.
Anyway, I digress. As I walked through the mall, I realized how globalized the world is truly getting. McDonald's, obviously, has made it's way to Bombay but so has KFC, Subway, and to my relief, cafes where the lattes don't quite live up to the expectation but will do for now.
Right as we walked out the mall, I remembered that I was in India. There were lines of rikhshaws lined outside and I wondered if the drivers could ever afford to go inside the mall and eat the overpriced food. As we took a rikhshaw back to my aunt's place, I happened to look on either side of the road and realized that one side was filled with large aparments and expensive shops, while the other was lined with slums absent of running water and constant electrcity. It's hard to imagine what it must be like for the poor, to come outside of their homes and daily see people who have a vehicle, a nice apartment, and no worries about food or shelter.
A few days ago, I saw three children, each about five years old, with no shoes, dirty and torn clothing, and covered in filth. It seemed to a scene from Slumdog Millionaire. They were looking up at a building undergoing construction and one was pointing up. They seemed amazed by it, but I wondered if they were dreaming to one day live in such a place. The day before, a 70-something old man had come up to the taxi I was in and begged for money. As a child, he likely had the same hopes as these children but his life, too, had been spent in astonishing poverty.
As in any other place, in India, the wealthy exploit the poor and the gap between the two groups keeps widening. The poor's slums are torn down and replaced with buildings, constructed by the poor. Almost everyone with an apartment has servants who come in and out to clean-up but can't afford to buy foods such as one mango. The wealthy don't even bother to go down and get groceries. Just call the store and a young man who may or may not be able to afford shoes comes up and gives them to you. And that's the extent of communication between the haves and the have-nots. One party servicing the next.
It's a disturbing reality, and one that is even worse in a city such as Bombay, where supposedly over 50% of people live in slums. A vision of a different, better life is right before their eyes, evident every single day as the toil away to get by. The life in a rural area doesn't seem that bad, though it may be. To me, however, there's a subtle beauty to the way of living where people still use cows as a means of transportation and construct beautiful straw tents for storage and at times, living. Many of the farms don't have electricity and you see all members of the family in the field, working on the land. Here, there are no haves and have-nots. Everyone seems equal.
Yesterday, my relatives took me to a local mall and it was lavish beyond belief. There were outrageously priced, international designer shops, each one personally guarded by a man forced to dress in an outfit that can't look anything but ridiculous. There was also a good dose of international food which I was really grateful for, but I couldn't figure out the payment method, which consisted of obtaining a temporary debit card. So, I got 50 rupees on a card. I then excitedly went to the DOUGHNUT shop where they had MANGO donuts! The cashier first laughed at the way I pronounced mango (I was supposed to say maan-go), and then proceeded to tell me I only had 35 rupees on the card for a 40 rupees donut. I asked the debit card guy why this was the case and he also laughed at my inability to understand the system, so I just gave up on eating. It's not over, though. I will get that man-go doughnut.
Anyway, I digress. As I walked through the mall, I realized how globalized the world is truly getting. McDonald's, obviously, has made it's way to Bombay but so has KFC, Subway, and to my relief, cafes where the lattes don't quite live up to the expectation but will do for now.
Right as we walked out the mall, I remembered that I was in India. There were lines of rikhshaws lined outside and I wondered if the drivers could ever afford to go inside the mall and eat the overpriced food. As we took a rikhshaw back to my aunt's place, I happened to look on either side of the road and realized that one side was filled with large aparments and expensive shops, while the other was lined with slums absent of running water and constant electrcity. It's hard to imagine what it must be like for the poor, to come outside of their homes and daily see people who have a vehicle, a nice apartment, and no worries about food or shelter.
A few days ago, I saw three children, each about five years old, with no shoes, dirty and torn clothing, and covered in filth. It seemed to a scene from Slumdog Millionaire. They were looking up at a building undergoing construction and one was pointing up. They seemed amazed by it, but I wondered if they were dreaming to one day live in such a place. The day before, a 70-something old man had come up to the taxi I was in and begged for money. As a child, he likely had the same hopes as these children but his life, too, had been spent in astonishing poverty.
As in any other place, in India, the wealthy exploit the poor and the gap between the two groups keeps widening. The poor's slums are torn down and replaced with buildings, constructed by the poor. Almost everyone with an apartment has servants who come in and out to clean-up but can't afford to buy foods such as one mango. The wealthy don't even bother to go down and get groceries. Just call the store and a young man who may or may not be able to afford shoes comes up and gives them to you. And that's the extent of communication between the haves and the have-nots. One party servicing the next.
It's a disturbing reality, and one that is even worse in a city such as Bombay, where supposedly over 50% of people live in slums. A vision of a different, better life is right before their eyes, evident every single day as the toil away to get by. The life in a rural area doesn't seem that bad, though it may be. To me, however, there's a subtle beauty to the way of living where people still use cows as a means of transportation and construct beautiful straw tents for storage and at times, living. Many of the farms don't have electricity and you see all members of the family in the field, working on the land. Here, there are no haves and have-nots. Everyone seems equal.
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