Lead Forward through the eyes of Jessye

Banani Rd 9

2011-07-11T17:17:00.000-07:00

I live in a place called Banani. It is full of prostitutes, thieves and bakeries. It's basically halfway around the world from where I come from and is not where I ever expected to be, but life is like that apparently.

I am married to an Indian man named Kannan. I am totally in love with him and we work at the same company. Somehow we met in this Bollywood love story type of way and now we are living together and plan to travel the world together. But, lets get back to Banani and moreover Bangladesh. Bangladesh is not a place I ever expected to live, or honestly even knew. My aunt thinks I am living in Pakistan and I haven't seen my family in almost a year. That's what happens when you come here.... I guess. By trade and profession I am a fashion designer. Sounds glamorous, but in reality I am just the link between the sweatshop and Walmart. I came to Bangladesh because of a job and then somehow convinced Kannan to come with me. He must really love me to live in Banani. We have a really nice apartment "Fantasy Palace", but you would never know the name because it is written in Bangla. Apparently some brothers got together to build a house for their families and then whatever happened and they decided to rent it out instead. Our apartment is 2A. Apparently, according to the previous couple, this place used to be haunted by a Hindu god that tried to ruin their marriage and curse them. The curse still prevails according to them and that's why the rent was so cheap cause no one else wanted to live here.
We luckily got this place but a small and sneaky overtaking. That's another story. We live with 2 other girls and have a cook and a maid. Apparently the curse didn't want to mess with us, so we are planning to stay for a while. It's a really nice place, but the trade off is Banani. The main road in Banani is so packed that if you don't walk while looking over your shoulder at all times you are likely to get hit by a car, rickshway, motorcycle, or even a coconut. You never know what you'll come across. There are many small restaurants with sneaky black cats lurking to get a bit of masala, saree shops with glittering fabric in the windows and of course the bakeries. Our favorite is an authentic Korean bakery attached to a restaurant. It is called Domiok. You can get red bean buns, eclairs, croissants and really nice brown bread. Our roommate is obsessed with the donuts probably because they taste like funnel cake. We usually get croissants on the weekend and a treat or bread for the next week. I like it because it is authentic and it is not Bangladeshi. You can buy fresh coconuts to drink from the corner for 30 taka, but when you walk back to the apartment afterwards you'll be swept up in a dust storm from the passing traffic and wild motorcycles. Sometimes I think of the main road in Banani as a speedway. I think Nascar fans would like it as long as they stood on the sidelines. Loud, bumpin', outdated rap music booms and blasts from the air conditioned cars. The young cool crowd shows off when they drive down the drag while trying to impress their friends and avoid an accident.

MOCHAKOTTAI KULAMBU

2010-05-24T02:10:00.000-07:00

I never knew what Val beans were before, but they are a favorite in the homes of Tamil Nadu. After doing some bean research I have found that the American standard version of them is navy beans. You can find them by many names including, but not limited to Valores, Mochai, or Hyachith bean. You can substitute them with chickpeas, cannellini beans, or soybeans but I haven't tried that yet. This is great with rice or chapati and I would recommend it for dinner.

INGREDIENTS :
Val beans 1/2 cup
Oil 2 tbsp
Mustard 1/2 tsp
Fenugreek Seed 1/2 tsp
Cumin Seed 1/4 tsp
Onion 1 chopped finely
Garlic 10 chopped finely
Red Chili powder 3 tsp
Coriander powder 1 tsp
Cumin powder 1tsp
Turmeric 1/4 tsp
Salt to taste
Tamarind 1 lemon size
Tomato 3 large or 4 small chopped finely
Coriander leaves 1/4 cup
Curry leaves 12

Soak the beans overnight to they cook faster. In a large pot cover the beans with enough water so they don't burn and boil them. While they are cooking prepare the seasoning to add.

In a pot heat the oil and add mustard, fenugreek, and cumin seeds. Add the curry leaves and fry for a few seconds until you can smell the aroma. After the mustard pops add chopped onion and garlic and sautee until the onion turns brown. Add the tomatoes and cook till the raw smell leaves. Add Red Chili powder, Coriander powder, Cumin powder, Turmeric and mix until incorporated. If the tomato juice is not enough, then add a few tablespoons of water. Add this mixture to the boiling beans. Cook for about 20-25 minutes until the beans are soft. Mix the tamarind with water and extract the juices. Set it aside. Lastly after the beans are cooked, while the pot is still over the flame add the tamarind water. Once it come to a boil add the coriander leave and mix then serve.

This kulambu is also good after marinating over night, but unless you prepare the kulambu in secret, not one will let it stay in the fridge with out helping themselves to a delicious taste.

Yummy Tamil Nadu Food!

Infused Sambar

2010-05-07T00:26:00.000-07:00

This is my own sambar that is a mixture of 3 or 4 that I have prepared. Everytime something different comes out. For veggie alternatives use turnips, potatoes, or eggplant.

3/4 cup of toor dal (red lentils can be substituted, but color will not be correct)
3/4 cup of yellow lentils
4 cups water
2 carrots, cut into chunks
1 zucchini, cut into chunks
3 tomatoes cut into chunks
15 string beans cut into fourths
1/2 onion chopped finely
1 tablespoon tumeric
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon cilantro powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1 tablespoon sambar masala
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
1-2 jalapeno peppers, seeded and cut in half
8 curry leaves
1 dried red pepper
2 teaspoons tamarind paste or 1 tablespoon lemon juice
fresh coriander as a garnish

Soak the lentils for 30 minutes before preparation. In a large pot put the oil and heat it. Then add the black mustard seeds after they pop add jalapeno peppers, dried red pepper, curry leaves, and onion. Once the onion is browned add the water, and the variety of lentils. Boil for five minutes. Once boiling on low heat add the carrots, zucchini, tomatoes and string beans. Mix well, then add the turmeric, salt, cilantro, cumin, sambar powder, and tamarind paste. If you are using lemon juice keep the sambar on a low boil for 20 minutes then add the lemon juice and cook for 5. Garnish with coriander and serve with rice.

Cauliflower Overload

2010-05-05T08:37:00.001-07:00

As with most word encounters I have, I find there are a variety of names for one items in a variety of languages, not uncommonly unrelated to the location of the discovery. In my cauliflower research, I found different names and spellings for different ingredients and here is the result:

Aloo Gobi

1 small cauliflower
2 tomatoes
1 tsp turmeric powder
1/2 tsp red chili powder
1 1/2 tsp coriander powder
salt to taste
2 tbsp oil

Chunk the cauliflower and quarter the tomatoes.
Heat the oil in a pot and add the vegetables mixing constantly.
Add the turmeric, red chili powder, coriander powder and salt.
Add 1/3 cup of water and cook for 2 minutes with the lid closed and 5 minutes with the lid open.
Serve with chapati or the following paratha:

Gobi Ka Paratha (which I think is Hindi)
1/2 cauliflower
3 green chilis
1 onion
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp red chili powder
1 tsp ginger paste
1 tsp coriander
1/4 cup chopped fresh coriander
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp oil + extra for greasing the pan if you prefer
2 cups wheat flour + 3 tbsp (approx.)
water

Chop the fresh coriander, cauliflower, green chilis and onion into mini pieces. Put these in a bowl and mix the ginger paste. Add the cumin, red chili powder, coriander powder and salt, then mix everything with the flour and oil. Slowly mix and incorporate the water until you have a ever so slightly sticky dough. Make 2" in diameter balls out of the dough and flour a flat surface. Get your rolling pin out and make rounds out of the balls that are similar in thickness to a tortilla adding flour as necessary. Don't make them too think or the vegetables will fall out. After rolling grill each one individually on a pan with or without oil (as your preference). The dough should bubble slightly and both sides should be dappled with light brown spots. Don't cook them too long or they will become crunchy. This would be delicious with chana kuruma or any bean sauce.

The Color Purple

2010-05-04T06:44:00.000-07:00

Beet Root Rice

1 cup uncooked rice
1 cup grated beet roots
1 tsp cumin
1/2 cup chopped onion
10 cloves garlic chopped
3 tbsp mint leaves chopped
1 tsp sambar powder
1 tsp garam masala powder
2 tbsp oil
salt

Cook the rice and set aside. Put oil in a pot then add the onion and garlic and fry till golden brown. Add the beet root and a little water then cook for 2 minutes. Add the sambar powder, garam masala powder, cumin, mint leaves and salt mixing all the while. Once the beets are cooked and there is a small amount of juice in the bottom stir the beet mixture with the cooked rice. Yum yum! This is really easy to make, minus finding the ingredients if you aren't in India or in an Indian market and then all the chopping!!!! I had this for lunch with some peanut fried mixture that India has all over the place for a crunchy snack. It was good mixed in because it added some salt and crunch.

I'm sure it would be really good with yogurt also... or raita. Coming soon Aloo Gobhi and Gobi Ka Paratha. Gobhi/Gobi is cauliflower.

We ate, we digested, we enjoyed

2010-05-02T23:59:00.000-07:00

Here are two recipies that I prepared a couple weeks ago that were successful and intersting.

Indian Avocado (Butter Fruit) Sauce

2 Avocados
1-2 green chilis sliced
1/4 cup fresh parsley or coriander leaves
1/8 cup tamarind juice (add more for thinner sauce)
salt

Mash the avocados and add the chilis. Mix this with the tamarind juice, then add the parsley and salt to taste.
We ate this with dosa and it sure was interesting. You can add some mayo for a creamier taste.

In my internet searching I came across Geetha and her delicious rendition of Cabbage Porial.
Geetha's Cabbage Porial

1 small head of green cabbage
2 tbsp oil
1 tsp urad dal
12 curry leaves
1 tsp minced ginger
1 onion chopped
2 dried red or fresh green chilis
water
1/4 tsp turmeric
salt black pepper

Shred the cabbage into long thin strings. Heat the oil and add the urad dal, curry leaves, ginger, chilis, and onion. Cook until the onion is browned. Add 1 tbsp of water as needed when teh pan begins to brown. Add cabbage, turmeric and season with salt and pepper. Heat until the cabbage is cooked.

A Delicious Sunday Afternoon

2010-05-02T23:47:00.000-07:00

Sundays should be lazy days. In India, most people work Monday through Saturday leaving Sunday to be a real day off every week. People will take advantage of their day off spending their time leisurely enjoying the weather, their family, and maybe something special to eat like ice cream or lemon ginger soda. People visit the beach, local bazaars, or go to the movies. Sunday I spent the day cooking and helping my boyfriend study for an exam. I am beginning to feel a bit like the movie Julie and Julia, but instead I am creating the cook book and testing its samples on my companion. I checked out the Whole Foods website to incorporate something to eat that was not related to Indian cuisine and prepared a delicious, healthy pasta with a tangy bite.

Sauteed Spinach with Blue Cheese Crumbles

1/4 cup blue cheese crumbles
3 tbsp lemon juice
salt pepper
3 tbsp oil
5 ounces of spinach
4 cups of squash
spiral wheat pasta 3 cups cooked
1 onion

brown the squash in 1 1/2 tbsp oil seasoned with salt and pepper until it is cooked then set aside. in a seperate pan add oil, salt and pepper then chop and fry the onion until it is translucent, add the spinach and once cooked through incorporate the squash. mash the blue cheese with the lemon juice to make a thick smooth dressing, leaving a few crumbles for aesthetics. mix the spinach, squash and cheese dressing with the pasta and enjoy for your Sundays of relaxation and delicious food.

Lemon Rice Adventures

2010-04-30T03:10:00.000-07:00

Last week I made a delicious version of lemon rice. As usual with most Indian foods there are many variations, mine was pretty lemony since the rice was about 1 cup less than the recipe called for and I am very liberal with my spices.

Lemon Rice

rice - 6 cups cooked
lemon juice - 6 tbsp
green chili - 3 tsp sliced
ginger - 1 1/2 tsp chopped
turmeric powder - 1 tsp
salt - 1 1/2 tsp
vegetable oil - 3 tbsp
mustard seeds - 1 1/2 tsp
chana dal - 3 tbsp
curry leaves - 10
fresh coriander - 3 tbsp chopped

Boil the rice ahead of time and soak the dal overnight.

Mix the lemon juice, salt, and turmeric, then sprinkle over the rice, coating each grain. In oil fry the dal, curry leaves, mustard seed, chilis, and ginger. Once the dal is golden brown remove from heat and incorporate the fry mixture into the rice.
Add the coriander and mix again. Ready to serve and enjoy.

Carrots and Beans

2010-04-28T03:16:00.000-07:00

Todays adventure is my second version of a Carrot Poriyal. Basically it is just an arrangement of vegetables chopped into really small pieces and cooked with spices. I had some leftover carrots and beans from my sambar the other day, which ended up being about 3 liters of sambar! We still have leftovers. In my little kitchen where the gas double burner takes up half of the counter space I've been chopping away inspired by the arduous life that most women here lead. Unknown and unappreciated by many, caring for a household of hungry kids, husbands, and relatives is really a lot of work. Granted their experience lasts a lifetime and mine is only temporary, it is useful in having a better understanding of what the heck is really going on here.
Bon Chance! (since we are in Pondicherry after all)

Carrot Poriyal

Carrot - 4 Nos
string beans - 2 handfuls
Onion - 1 No
Green Chillies - 1 or 2 Nos
Coconut gratings - 2 tablespoon (optional)
Curry leaves - 10
Oil - 2 tbsp
black mustard Seeds- 1/2 teaspoon
Urad dhal - 1 teaspoon
Jeera - 1/2 teaspoon
Salt - 1 teaspoon

Peel the carrots and cut it into small pieces. Cut the string beans into small pieces. Chop the onion and green chillies. Put the oil in a pot. When it is hot add the black mustard seeds and when it pops up add the urad dhal, rye powder (aka cumin) and fry till urad dhal turns light brown. Add chopped onion, green chillies along with curry leaves. Fry till the onion turns transparant. Add carrot pieces and mix well. Add salt, sprinkle a handful of water and close with lid. Cook in low flame till the carrot is soft. If you want then add coconut gratings and mix again and remove from stove.

Birds Chirping

2010-04-27T02:10:00.000-07:00

Madras Rasam

* 200g tomatoes
* tamarind - lemon sized soaked in hot water
* 20g garlic
* 4 glasses of any dal stock
* 4 green chilies
* 1 bunch of cilantro and curry leaves
* 1/4 tsp turmeric
* Salt to taste

For rasam powder:
* 20g coriander seeds
* 10g pepper corns
* 5g cumin seeds
* 2 red chilies

Mix the tamarind water with crushed tomatoes and garlic, dal stock, green chilies, turmeric, salt and mix well. Keep aside. Roast the ingredients of rasam powder without any oil and blend to a fine powder. Add this powder to the above tamarind water and mix well. Also add curry leaves, cilantro leaves and boil on heat until bubbles form in the mixture. Remove from heat and serve with steamed rice.

A musical mix flutters through my kitchen window while I venture into another day of cooking and job searching. My one bedroom apartment is caddy corner to the forest green and white painted mosque. The owner of my apartment Shagul is also Muslim and fortunately, for my sanity, obsessively compulsive about maintaining the apartment and amenities. I am quite privledged to have a refrigerator, gas stove, television, internet connection, running water, a shower and western style toilet. After persistent searching by my significant other, our rent price is a reasonable $180/month. My stairs are not passable by the new average American waist size, but maybe that is a good thing.
Giant black crows overpopulate my neighborhood mimicking the breeding habits of the local population. Their cawing interrupts the Spanish music playing on my itunes. My doorbell chirps ironically copying with near exactitude the caws of the crows. This is the new place I call home.
From my roof I can see the pool of smooth green water and the interior of the mosque. Devotees pat their hands against the water and cover their face exuding a coolness that opposed the intense heat of the hot, dry summer. A tap at the brown door marking my entrance is always leaky and water rushes in the morning as the neighborhood kids connect plastic tubing to help their mothers with the sunrise chores. The alley is always wet as I see the ground first upon opening the door in the morning yearning and almost praying for rain. Supposedly during this time of year if it does rain it is typically hotter than the climate before the rain, which I think is another great local superstition, but the humidity does make things quite sticky.
This afternoon we will test my Madras Rasam experiment out and see if it tantalizes like the local recipies. Last week I made an interesting Vegetable Jalfreze with ketchup instead of tomato sauce and it was so hot, even for South India standards. I am keeping a nice stock of green and dried red chilis which i am not frugal with. New posts of past recipes to follow.

Significance of the unexpected

2009-10-19T01:31:00.001-07:00

If you take an autorickshaw, the majority of people feel that driver is there to serve them and don't see any reason to give respect or even say thank you. In reality that auto rickshaw spends the days driving around a lawn mower type of vehicle just to earn a living to support his family. The psyche of that driver means daily battles with the reckless and dangers of Indian roads. Always you'll find an confidence that does nothing to diminish any fear i have of road rage or accidents. There is an ease about them. A control. They know all the routes and hot spots and if they desire they can help you out directionally when questioned. For all this they are not given respect. A customer will work hard to negotiate the lowest fare even if it means little or no profit when paying for petrol. They will bark directions or not know the exact place and like me I have passed my cell phone to the drivers to help me find the way. They will always give you respect for a tip or to lessen an argument, but a simple thank you is like talking in a foreign language. My friend was traveling in an auto last week as she usually does with some students who have been locally sponsored for their college education. She took that extra second to say thank you and to her shock it meant more than could have been expected. Everyone is in such a rush these days it is more meaningful just to give a sincere smile or say thanks in appreciation for a job. That smile or two words goes a long way in making a happy impact in your personal customer service efforts.

Life on a two wheeler in time with the hem of a pant

2009-10-19T01:08:00.000-07:00

The disposable society. Without sustainability, without a future plan how much is the value of one life? Most people can obtain a two wheeler and most families can fit symbiotically on that bike. Most people drive recklessly at one instance or another. If they are not purposefully reckless then they are in a rush to attend to an ill relative or reach a marriage function. In that instance an entire family can be eliminated. If you are riding a bicycle and your pedal is an inch or two out into the road easily clipped by any car or two wheeler passing by that instance you maneuver that bike past the point of no return, your life is in the balance. The same rules that apply to the people and their value of life itself can be said for the quality of the objects that surround that life. In five minutes a tailor can hem your pants to the appropriate length for 10 or 20 rupees. If you don't have that amount then your pant will continually caress the ground you walk on until the dirty threads hang over the back of your ankle. That new pant which will most likely be some blend of cotton and polyester was not designed with climate in mind. For all the ways to reduce your bodies heat, by drinking rye seed water or not eating chicken people will go around wearing corduroy pants and polyester sarees. The quality of sandals here may be mediocre but for the lifestyle the wear and tear factor means that sandal should be durable. The sandals here come in so many colors and styles, but i can guarantee if you walk down any street you can count ordinary middle class people with completely broken or worn out sandals. If you ask someone about my sandal being held together by a safety pin they'll tell you no one would fashion that pin, rather they would throw out the sandal in lieu of a replacement, but i think the reality is they would just wear the broken sandal. At least more people are wearing shoes, whether it is because of fashion of health awareness only young village students seem to be lacking the education about the importance of sandals. Since there are very few organized landfills, and even sanitation works are barely functioning people have learned to burn their waste or just throw it out. If any road has aqueduct like water ways on either side, you can be sure of a green grey scum and trash items littering its path. If everything functions in a non permanent way then how can we create any change in social standing and customs? If any problem occurs in your house you can just move in with a relative. You can eat leaves from wild trees growing along the highway. Sometimes the country feels like a free for all. Take what you can get and don't care so much about the lives of others, but the important notion remains that while people remain selfish they are showing off and living for others. The gossip chain will continue to link itself to the people until they can feel there is something more important to give them fulfillment.

Hot walks in the afternoon

2009-09-12T05:59:00.000-07:00

The ceiling fan swirls around my head and the red, yellow and green sticker with handwritten Jah! in black letters that some traveler before me has left as their mark of passage flashes as i close and open my eyes. If you turn off the light and let the muted sunshine in through the slats above my door it looks like a disco dream with the hypnotic flashes of the swirling contraption doing its own new age dance in the air. I want to get out of bed. It's too hot to move. Occasionally i get up to drink water or brush my teeth. If I ever wash my clothes or take a shower the bathroom becomes so warm from the concentrated moisture that I can't tell if I'm wet or sweating again. I turn on the TV, fashion TV is like my visual bible and I've seen all the programming for the past two weeks now it's on repeat. The sound sometimes doesn't work or the image goes to miniature wide screen for whatever reason. Sometimes I wish i didn't have that TV hanging over my bed with the dusty wires that loop over and around themselves in the dusty corner enticing me to waste the hours watching some government programming. I take a bath in my orange bucket as usual and dry myself under the fan with the pastel striped towel that was gifted to me on one of my better days. What should I do here? I can go to my favorite coffee shop that has the interior of a marble castle with random staircases, one of those incredible black and white patterned floors like a huge chess board, painted pillars that are supposed to be reminiscent of wood. The bar has modular stools that clash with the luxe renaissance feeling and the owner Pushpa always makes something overpriced and delicious. I could take me usual table and draw for hours drinking coffee and eating baguettes while dreaming up something fabulous. I could walk down my street and go to the main dried up canal just to entertain myself searching for two liter aquafina water bottles and walk and walk until my shirt is wet. If I go out I'll pass the government hospital, the foreigners will cruise by me on mopeds, a school will be letting out for the day and herds of students will take their bikes and stop traffic. I can drink some fresh juice, check my e-mails or go to the grocery store and try to find foreign products like peanut butter and pay way too much to drink soy milk. Or I can lie in my room and look at the ceiling fan roll over and press my face into a folded up Indian Air blanket and ignore all the missed calls and text messages that vibrate my phone on the table. If i go outside I guess sometime I already know what I have to deal with. Some sketch man following me around, getting so hot and gulping water down on the side of the road, auto drivers incessantly asking me if i want a rickshaw, and trying to just cross the road without walking into a motorcycle or small lorry. I know what will happen if i stay inside too. Voices murmur as they pass my open windows, glasses and silverware clang in the kitchen, I'll order an omelet or some toast, maybe if i feel like it I'll change my dress and wash my clothes in that same orange bucket. I'm not looking for excitement, i can get by living here with all the good and bad that come with the commitment I've made. It's a different world and some days i just don't want to get out of bed.

Show some disrespect

2009-09-10T01:55:00.000-07:00

Another eventful adventure occurred two days prior. Not a good adventure to say the least, but something to be noted. I have to say Aquafina brand water is quite scarce in the white town of Pondicherry and in my many hot walks of torture I have come across that rare gem of a shop selling the most sought after two liter bottles, noted it as such and promised to return there when in need. Aquafina is possibly the cleanest water actually abiding by the ISI standards of water purification. Don't accept any imitation or your stomach will tell you something quite uncomfortable. One location having such resources in near the bus stand crossing the lovely wine and bazaar district of Anna Nagar, some high traffic areas, and the street stealing hindu temple, because literally when you cross the street there, the hindu temple takes up about half of the road and busses of course don't care if you or a pigeon are walking they'll hit you anyway. So i took a different route this evening expecting to happen upon a random Aquafina shop on the way, but no such luck, so off to the shop selling bad ice cream that will give you a cold that promises two liter bottles. Before the Hindu temple right after the treacherous road crossing and after passing two women and a white shrited man he likened his speed to mine and started talking some nonsense or trying to talk something to me. He said he was a driver and gave tours around Auroville and i should note his number, so since he had idly slid up next to me and was walking like we were dear friends (without the hand holding at this point) i typed his number into my phone. Unfortunately he gave the wrong number, hesitated, literally forgot his number and gave me some other number instructing me to save it. I walked along playing with my phone trying to ignore him as he kept talking some nonsense half tamil, a quarter english and a quarter mumble. He asked me if i was married and had a family both questions I answered with a yes. Then he proceeded to say he wasn't married and at this departure I began determining that he was mentally impaired, somehow deciphering the signs I was aware of this. He put his arm around my shoulders and i pushed it off. He walked a bit faster with me and grabbed my hip in an attempt to pull me toward him. My body froze and my hand raised in the air. By this point I was freaking out yelling at him in my correctional way with ideas about: what are you thinking, don't ever touch a woman, have some respect etc with mild obscenities mixed in. Then i slapped his upper arm as hard as my right hand could but in hindsight i should have went right for his face. He closed up, didn't look at me slowed down, was unresponsive. I scurried along and he disappeared into the background, or so i thought. I turned back shouting every few steps until his presence was absent. I made it to my shop shortly afterwards and didn't see my glorious two liter aquafina bottles. I hesitated walked past a couple shops to calm down as I was visibly tense and sweaty. I circled back for the water, made my request, so then the clerk went to another shop picked up my bottles and i paid him. When i turned around to check my bearings the white shirted character from before was passing some bikes just across from me. He looked at me and looked down. I flew after him with four liters of water in tow. "You are sick! you are a criminal! I should go to the police! Your shameful, what disrespect you have! See that man, he tried to touch me and i beat him! He's a disgrace!" I was yelling like anything surrounded by about 30 men watching, just watching. One skinny man with a blue checked lunghi had told the shop owner about the sleezy man he witnesses me berade and slowly followed the man until he passed me and i went in the other direction. I thought he was helping me by making sure no one was bothering me. I was irate, breathing deeply, talking to myself, sweating, heart beating and walking back to my place. After a few minutes i called my mother, my source of relaxation, therapy and soothing words. I turned around at a fruit stand and the bue checked lunghi was still following me. I stopped at another fruit stand still talking on the phone and he stopped too. At this point I was on guard and fierce. He started telling me his was a Christian and that he wanted to put a tally on my neck. This was beyond ridiculous at this point. He asked repeatedly, "Are you married?" "Yes!" I sad over and over. Still he said he had to take me to his house and put the tally, the Indian marriage string. I told him to get away from me, to walk, to go and stay away. He walked ahead, crossed the road, and hid behind an autorickshaw infront of a liquor shop. I walked until i was parallel to his hiding place waiting for his next move when one auto stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride. I thought for a second and realized it was time to make my escape. I jumped in and told him to take me toward the beach. The u-turn that followed took about a minute as the motorcycles zoomed passed and the cars rotated their wheels to curve around us. Finally we were free, turning toward the beach and toward the blue checked lunghi hiding behind the auto. As we approached he jumped out waving, with both arms, for the auto to stop. I said to my driver don't stop get away from him. As we approached the red light i said, we can't stop here, keep going... he veered into a clear lane and speedily made another u-turn down the main road to the beach. I escaped. I was thinking to myself, there is no way that skinny man has rupees for an auto, and there is no way he could catch up fast enough to get to me. But what was he going to do. Catch up with me and try to marry me? I had the auto drop me at the canal street and did some extreme negotiating for the one dollar ride that got me back to safety. I know i paid too much, but in the time of need jumping in an auto was the best solution. I walked the 5 minutes back to my hotel glad for the locked gate and boys who would watch out for me if something strange happened. I locked my door turned on the fan and took a bath with my orange bucket. I let the water drip through my matted hair and thought about the psychological state of so many I have met in this adventure. Those who are tossed out of society. Those who need some medical examination. Those who could be helped if someone took the time to care. But who is going to help them if they keep pursuing the stereotypes of other nationalities, if they keep following the myth of the white skin? Who will care for the poor minds and downtrodden?

Another Ashram another rupee

2009-09-01T07:27:00.000-07:00

So, as an unofficial resident of Pondicherry, yes, that is the correct name for the year 2009, but previously it was officially known as Puducherry. This is no longer correct. I have been walking around, trying to find inspiration, whatever that means and enjoying the 'white town' as the locals call it. If you stray from the white town, there are dangers of the unknown that may make you sweaty, so beware whether venturing to the bus stand or Reddiarpalyam the unknown awaits you. Actually what awaits you is the Indian Pondicherry that isn't as infested as the one with foreigners looking for a bit of their own countries flair in developing India. Needless to say living here is not as great as touring here, but at least I have my own place... where I have to be respectful of other visitors whom I may disturb as I was informed of last night and retreated to my room instead of the passageway which is the hall on my second floor hideout. Then be sure to close your door as not to disturb those eating at the restaurant on the third floor, whom apparently I also disturbed last night too. So much for solitary freedom. At least my roof doesn't leak. So I've been doing a lot of walking, which I can say besides the rise in my body temperature I thoroughly enjoy this. Still my attempts to run on the beach at 6am have failed, for 6 days straight. There are some roads where you can even walk without any disturbances of motorcycles, beggars, or auto drivers asking to pick you up or play carrom. I have one great English speaking beggar on my street who continuously asks me for money and one shop owner whom I told I had a friend who was interested in pashmina shawls and every time I pass he asks when I'm coming in. I avoid both of these people using shortcuts on the route to the main road. I run into the same people over and over again and get annoyed by German girls explaining stereotypes to Jain guys at foreign hangouts and pretending to know about their religion. I am shocked by the foreign overpriced goods and hotels, but tend to enjoy baguettes and brownies that are no where close to the real thing on occasion. I get offered drugs when i look like a hippie and liquor from random people in cars whom I pass by walking. I get snubbed by Indian french speakers whom i obstruct their path when i cross theirs. I listen to rap music at the Internet shop, but at least it is still really hot and smelly. I'm glad there are some places I can just go and draw, drinking ice tea under a batik printed canopy with handmade wooden chairs. But for all the random street conversations I've had about how corrupt ashrams are, or how people here are genuinely interested to show hospitality without and sexual intentions i think I could do without them. To know a stranger will always sit with me to talk about an NGO or a party and to have some getting to know you talks, I'm definitely having a different kind of experience. Last night walking to buy some fruit the Hindu celebration of Vinayagar/Ganesh was still going on for the third or fourth day and every lorry full of kids that passed yelled something attention getting. I did my best not to look. Hope I'm not becoming jaded.

A directional traversal

2009-08-28T08:03:00.000-07:00

Since it's been so long since I've had anything to say there is a some desire to explain myself. I could be that careless and just desert the idea of blogging at all, but somehow I tend to think in a few years when i am doing something entirely different I will randomly happen on the Lead Forward blog and just take a minute to remember. Since we last left off it was my 26th birthday, did i mention that my real age is 21, but you know how much more respect you get when you are older. If this doesn't explain anything we can deduce that I had a mild crisis as usual during birthday time. By this age I should be a multi-millionaire running a web design firm, I should have invented the new energy efficient time machine, or discovered the boat that sank the day after the titanic that no one knew about because it was lost in all the hype of the titanic. Since none of these things have happened at milestones like birthdays, departures from countries, or changes in life plans I tend to do some thinking. Regardless I hopped off to another continent for a work related purpose. I think everyone knows of my desire to join fashion design and social work in a humanitarian effort to change mankind and at this phase in the experimental life plan the ideas are just taking shape. So I embarked on the luxurious and affluent Indian Airlines journey to Frankfurt, Germany to design some awesome shizz. Which it was and as a reward, and a yearly ritual, i enjoyed a Greek Woostafarian family vacation, complete with ketchup chips and feta. Then back to India. I met one friend in Mumbai, enjoyed the tourism, taxi service, nightlife, falafel and walking. Plus on the return I got to take a 2 1/2 day train ride where I got awakened and questioned for possible drug possession and use. I proceeded to tell the conductor that drugs were bad. After returning to Chennai an aunties death led me to an excursion in Kerala, which was beyond my dreamy dreams! Needless to say I was in the company of my favorite inspirational activist Sherin and a talented fashion design student. We saw some natural places, ate some local herby foods, visited cardamon factories, drank tons of black coffee with masala spices and took so many photographs. After staying a couple day in Chennai I was back with Mathew in Chengelpattu trying to figure out the next plan for our program and my time here. I developed a speech for our college and graduate students meeting last week which was a success in terms of attendance and more motivational ideas. I only stayed to give the speech and greet everyone. A father turned advocated named Jose gave a nice lecture on how to plan for your future and achieve your dreams and then Mathew conducted some exercises with the LF members while I went on my way to Cuddalore on a government bus. I met with my friend Pastor Peter Paul Thomas who is doing well and as usual we discussed some life philosophies and I recruited him to help me find a new place to live in Pondicherry, the french colony with it's bistros, rues and other inspirational characteristics. I had accepted a job to develop a lead product for a top secret exciting new global brand making it's way in the fashion industry so I wanted to go into seclusion to do the best possible job. Thus I have moved, taken a break from social work and relish to give more details in the next post!

Suprise Party at Preem

2009-07-04T10:37:00.001-07:00

Some Thoughts for Food

2009-07-04T03:20:00.000-07:00

All the beautiful sarees and shawls the women wear caress the men as they unwrap them to wed or to bed like gifts on Christmas. To be passed by a sultry woman and have the train of her accordion folded saree tickle your arm hair as her figure diminishes while her feet carry her away. This is not incentive or innuendo, but it is as traditional as the cutting instruments the agriculture workers use to harvest paddy. To define culture by their way of dress is one thing, but to examine the modern day interpretations is entirely different.

You can have more than a family of Indian brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, but they will never treat you like their family. They will never ask anything of you, you have to be forcefully persistent to share even minor expenses, cooking or cleaning means you are taking rest. But at the same time they accept you under any circumstances. If a family member is ill, they will still welcome you to stay with them. They will always offer you the best food even if you ask for kanji. There is a love and dependency, a connection with a foreigner, a desire to expand their familial relationships to include you. Yet there is also the burden of the third world, the lack of entertainment and sedentary lifestyle, and the obligations to their immediate and inclusive family. The acceptance I feel and the experiences I am gaining from are not only teaching me about the culture and people, but about their lives and history.

The men are sneaky only because they know the stereotypes the foreign women are attached to and stereotypes always relay some kind of truth. A drunkard or sober man who dares to touch a foreign girl or interact with them or be perverse toward them, would never dream of acting in that manner as openly with an Indian woman. The key word being as openly.

If you open your eyes you can see the light, but if you let the light shine on you, only then can you be enlightened. If this is in any way linked with the mind of Ambedkar I would be flattered. The idea of obtaining enlightenment, is it really possible to measure its attainability? How can you measure something like enlightenment or infinity and when it is mixed with religion, spirituality, and money? Which factors are really supporting the idea of enlightenment and who is going to publish a book of my blogs?

The road ahead is as dangerous as the curves the speedy Indian bus devours. Sometimes there are bumps and everyones body experiences a moment without gravity. Sometimes there are stops where everyone is either sleeping or making faces expressing their annoyance. Sometimes passengers change and get on or off going up and down the three or four steps to the road. All the while the driver is seated in his seat grinding the gears and giving diesel to the engine. All the while the conductor collects bus fare and monitors the passengers ensuring some amount of safety and order until reaching the final destination only to embark on another journey with completely different encounters.

water water everywhere but not a drop to drink

2009-07-04T03:03:00.000-07:00

Last night was surely an adventure. For the past two weeks in Chengelpattu the motor bringing water from the well to the homes has not been working. A technician came 3 times to fix the motor unsuccessfully. For most of this time I was frolicking around Tamil Nadu, but I have returned to the comfortable apartment that Mathew resides in and with my return I automatically get enrolled in the water informational course in D2 of the Ranga Apartments. The first day I got back, somehow I managed to do all my washing with the water had been saved in three buckets. I had to fill one small bucket for proper rinsing so I went to the kitchen to because the water in the bathroom had been shut off. That water was spitting and spurting like usual, so I left the bucket to fill. Then the neighbors niece came to tell me more about the motor problem, so I hurried to turn off the water. She informed me that we can use one tap at a time so I finished the rinsing, filled the buckets, and hung the clothes to dry. The next evening her father came and said at 9:00 the water would be shut off so we should prepare for a day at least without any water. It was 8:45 and we had just finished eating so Mathew hurried to collect extra buckets we purchased for the LF students camp and began the water transportation to all buckets in the apartment. With the new buckets that was at least 12 buckets and containers. After filling the buckets we waited for the water to stop, but it kept coming, so Mathew washed the dishes and I took a bath. Good thing we collected all that water because the next day there was running water all day! No problems for cooking, washing, cleaning or rinsing. I kept waiting for the water to stop. In Mathew's apartment there are two types of water being used. One from the well, which is for drinking and one from the municipality which is for washing, cooking, or bathing. Usually around this time there is a great shortage of well water which everyone is depending on. The problem with the motor is only affecting the well water so at the time we were filling buckets every family in the apartments were also doing the same. The water shortage is really serious and not much is being done in terms of conservation. Many people are not aware or careful with the water and will leave taps on overflowing as this precious commodity trickles down the drain. We can be sure when people start dying from dehydration the government will be forced to do something, but will it be too little too late? For the sake of my friends, i sure hope not.

Some government assistance please!

2009-06-25T02:41:00.002-07:00

The government of Tamil Nadu has many incentive programs and free products for poor families, but are they really helping to uplift them from poverty or are they just giving them a good dose of materialism and greed?

Extra! Extra! Read all about it. Free Televisions for the poor!
If a slum dweller in Chennai gets a free television from the government that's great! Here's the downside: That person potentially doesn't even have electricity, but it will make a great table for a shrine to Jesus or Shiva. If they have electricity they have to buy cable or a dish satellite. They have to pay a monthly fee, minus that from their huge bank account or wad of rupee bills stashed in a plastic jar. All the neighbors will come in the evening to enjoy programming, but individually owned and politically owned television channels will monopolize their time away from family discussion or study time. Finally if your neighbor gets a television you will have to one up them and buy a TV plus a DVD player. The grass is always greener on the other side.

Free low grade rice! 20 Kilos per month!
Thank goodness for free rice because the agriculture workers earning 30 rupees a day can't afford food for themselves let alone for their collection of children. Too bad their not giving free birth control, but wait! There was one village that was subject to free vasectomy's. One village. If a coolie worker is getting 30 rupees per day they may try to work 20-25 days a month depending on where they are living. If a coolie worker is getting a free 20 kilo bag of rice they may only work 10 days a month. There's no note attached to give the laboring class ideas about saving for their future, children's education, or medical emergencies, so that means they don't have to work as much. If a family eats rice and sambar or kanji once every day, they are not motivated by this 20 kilos of rice to eat rice and sambar with chicken, or a carrot side dish. There is not note attached giving them a lesson on nutrition either. I assume some people are not working less and maybe their meals improve, but the local perception is people are lazy and basically bad, so why would they even bother.

Other incentives:
+ 20,000 rupees from the government when you marry off your daughter... after paying the dowry which is supposed to be illegal
+ free gas stoves, then you can buy an expensive fuel tank instead of cooking outside with firewood... this is definitely good if it is raining outside, also the food will cook much faster with the gas stove and the women will have to spend less time cooking. If your daily work and toil is not appreciated then throwing together a fast rasam and sambar is more beneficial than squatting in the backyard over four stack of bricks and a bubbling pot.
+ free bicycles will get you to work more easily and the whole family can use the bike
+ in rare instances scholarships for better education are given, hopefully this will increase in the future

A dose of religion

2009-06-25T02:13:00.000-07:00

After spending some time with my family visiting the place where Buddha conducted his first lecture, meeting one of our lead forward students and his family who practice Jainism, and having repeated discussions with my family friends about Jews, Jesus, and Christianity it is easy to perceive obvious similarities and differences. It is interesting to see the different personal opinions and practices in the varying sects of Christianity. There is a large Roman Catholic following in Pondicherry, the French coastal state that is surrounded by Tamil Nadu terrain. To experience a centennial celebration at the most notorious Pondicherry Roman Catholic church and see the flocks of Indian people mixed with foreigners, bikers, and children running about really shows how religion can give so much sanctity and feelings of togetherness for its followers. The Lutheran movement is strongest in Tamil Nadu especially in the vicinity of the Pondicherry and Cuddlore parish. There is also a following in Bangalore, but more missionary presence and strong devotees are said to be in Tamil Nadu. The Muslim belief in 'Allah' is very similar to Jewish prayer and worship for 'Adonai'. One television program on Prayer TV followed the speech of one doctor who was explaining the confusion of giving a male or female sex to Allah. This is the same for Adonai, the thought of an all knowing being or spirit that can't readily be explained or defined, just that it is ever present. If I tell my Christian friends that I don't believe in Jesus they are shocked and can't understand what Judaism is based on. Many Roman Catholics have pressured me to convert to Christianity giving me bibles or explaining the New Testament. This has also happened with one Protestant friend. They don't identify with Adonai, just how I don't identify with Jesus, but some are first generation converts from Hinduism and others have become accustomed to their religion since attending childhood religious school or cathecism class. Varying strength in belief or devotion can be seen between couples, but most times their children take on a strong religious belief. Is this due to the lifestyle where the chance and practice of a religion is give more time and respect from the culture. India can be stereotyped as a religious country, but that does not make it spiritual. I think some aspects of religious practice are very repetitive. I haven't seen any difference in RC weddings I have attended. There is one style present, in my experiences, full of tradition and ritual that is followed almost identically regardless of caste. At a village wedding in a poor rural place, you won't see all guests covered with gold and breathtaking sarees, but the same sense of tradition and customs are incorporated. The lack of spirituality might lead people to depend on religion as a crutch or as a way they can pray for better lives, but other incidents are completely ridiculous. This also applies to western practice (I'm sure you've read stories online or in the news). Last week I read an article where two frogs were married and fashioned in a red wedding suit (complete with cape) and a red dress for the bride. The village Hindus who married these two amphibians were giving them to a specific god for more rain during the monsoon season. The ceremony took place on a rock in the woods and afterwards the frogs were released. The village had been experiencing a very dry season and their harvest was minimal. Whatever your belief or however you are practicing I just want to state that the mind is a very powerful tool that can be used constructively or destructively and avidly affect a person, group or situation.

Tamil Music Television

2009-06-18T11:46:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was fortunate enough to be completely appalled by one music video. If you think MTV and VH1 are negative affecting the minds of the youth then you have no idea what the Indian youths are being subjected to. I was doing my routine activities after cooking lunch with a couple students, drinking cool water, painting toe nails, talking about the hot weather when a music video began that was more obscene that I could have imagined. The video began showing a bus full of students going or coming to school. The girls were in pink plaid with braided pigtails tied up in white ribbons and the boys were wearing button down shirts in dusty blue. All the students were in uniform looking neat and clean. After the initial scene was represented the camera zoomed in on two students, one boy and one girl. The two people were staring into each others eyes more intensely that any boy and any girl have started at each other in history... except maybe Romeo and Juliet. The camera zoomed in on all eye twitches and lip quivers instigating the thought process that these two students were going through. They stared at each other while everyone else was concerned with their own business going about like normal students. Mind you this was supposed to be a group of high school kids. The girl, was definitely not a girl and was most likely a woman around 21 years old and the drooling boy was at least 35. It is typical here to marry a man much older in traditional arranged marriages, but these actors were supposed to be students. If someone bumped into either the boy or girl you could feel sexy thoughts pounding out of the tv. If the bus jerked or went over a pot hole or speed bump the girl fell into the boy strategically having her head go into the crevice of her neck. There were so many close ups, the boy would sneakily touch the girls shirt, the girl would brush up against him. Without even opening their mouths, only the lip quivers were apparent. I have to question why girls are becoming pregnant and their lovers are going off and killing them and their unborn children. Why are there newspaper articles where young people run off wanting to have a love marriage and their own parents go after them and kill them? If all the people in villages are getting free televisions from the government and sitting around during and after dinner watching music videos and soap operas no wonder people are trying to live the fantasy life. Only after being abused by your husband, getting aids and joining a support group will any women leave their families. The male student on the bus would ruin the girls reputation, destroy respect for her in her village and worst of all impregnate her out of wedlock tarnishing the whole family. But for the boy student even after these actions have been committed, even after going before the village court, even after his own parents reprimand the girl and her family, he will only have to pay a fine of $3 or $4 dollars to the village council. Why is it that when they two students were staring so deeply into each others eyes it is always the girl whose eyes first look toward the ground? Because the women are pushed down in all ways, even though the men will take the women to bed with them they won't respect them. Even though the women cook and clean and cater to all the men's needs the men won't respect them. I would like to create one Indian holiday opposite from Women's Day that is already celebrated here where the women actually leave the house eat at restaurants and relax. Where the husbands all have someone like a British Nanny scold them and even beat them if necessary. I'm waiting for this day to come.

When you're faced with poverty

2009-06-17T11:50:00.000-07:00

As a person who is clearly foreign with white skin in a country where white skin is idolized and cherished it is most difficult to know the situation of those who live with nothing in comparison to my own personal background. I am definitely not individually wealthy, but I am coming from a family where I never had to worry if the heating bill would be paid or there would be food in the cupboard. This put me in a constant predicament. Tonight I am staying in Chennai with a social activist who is really changing peoples perception and motivating them to support others from different castes and classes. She stays in a third floor apartment in one district of this enormous city. There are three fashion design students taking courses and staying with her and one boy she sponsored to get his bachelor's in social work who frequents the residence. These kids are like my Indian brothers and sisters. We talk about social issues, read together, make jewelry and design fashions, cook, wash clothes and eat. They are all originally coming from rural villages, but now they can get around in the city with basic social interaction skills. Tonight after dinner and creating some new hairstyles we were enjoying the breeze on the balcony. One girls said she wanted to show me something so I went and we crossed the apartment, looked out the barred window and saw about 8 or 9 men sleeping on the roof of a building next door that is being constructed. These men are sleeping on cardboard boxes. All their belongings fill half a burlap sack. They work every day from 6am to 10 pm making 100 rupees per day. These men are my neighbors. They earn 2 dollars per day. How can you eat three meals, support your wife and young child with these wages. We know their contractors and managers are living in nice houses with air conditioning, they are able to feed their children 3 meals a day and send them to school. Their wives are decorated with silk embroidered sarees and gold jewelry but they have no concern for the people they depend on for this lifestyle. The coolie workers who are fulfilling the managers tasks can't defend themselves or protest this wage and lifestyle. If they protest the 100 rupee per day salary with disappear from their pocket and another eager oppressed person will come fill their place. Not being able to support your family but having your mouth glued shut so you can't speak about it, and your hands tied together during your daily labor, this is why i wake up everyday and bear the heat and pollution. This is why i meet officials and try to motivate students and leaders. This is why the Indian people can't bring about this change themselves.

Meals Eating

2009-06-09T01:40:00.000-07:00

There are so many amazing foods in India, but Tamil Nadu exceeds other states in special varieties and preparations of food. You can't eat iddly for breakfast in Andhra Pradesh and you can't have dosai for dinner in West Bengal. Well, technically you can if you go to a Chettinad hotel specializing in southern food, but the atmosphere and experience isn't the same as eating local foods prepared by local people. Make sure you keep in mind that in India signs for a hotel does not refer to a place for lodging but it is in fact a restaurant. Signs for a restaurant are also referring to a place for eating complementing the institution a restaurant defines in western countries. This country survives on rice. The government has even instigated rice rations for all people to eliminate the obvious problem of starvation. You can get 20 kilograms of rice per month for a family for only one rupee per kilogram. That translates to 2 cents for one kilogram which is 2.2lbs. Even the most poor families using this ration are able to eat three meals of kanji a day. Kanji being the most basic food consists of rice and water sometimes with some salt for taste. If you aren't eating kanji and the father of the family works two to five days a month your family can have a delectable sambar to complement the government rationed rice, otherwise known as a vegetable and yellow dal sauce. I myself have taken both of these meals in my journey, but the common meal I want to describe is served in hotels. Since rice is a staple and a good source of protein and energy everyone is eating rice so in a hotel many people prefer rice meals. You wouldn't imagine how much rice one person here can eat without becoming the slightest bit overweight and some people still being extraordinarily slim. I would estimate that an individual can eat 2 cups of boiled rice per meal if given the opportunity. This is in addition to any sauces. chicken, appalam, drinks, and pickle. In a hotel when you order a rice meal, first you get a nice steel plate covered with a banana leaf that is quite often cut into the circular shape of the plate. On that plate are between five and ten small steel cups filled with a variety of sauces and even a dessert. A waiter will come and put a crispy appalam on your place and then he'll bring a huge steel bowl full of rice and start scooping it out onto everyones plate. Everyone will start tasting and pouring small amounts of sauce onto their rice in different sections seeing which sauce they want to eat first and which they want to save for the end of their meal. With a rice meal the rice is unlimited so at least two helpings of rice should be eaten. First you can mix some sambar then try the spicy beets. After eating that there may be a kurma with potatoes or peas if your eating southern Indian food. Some other types of vegetables will be served like fried bitter gourd or sweet shredded carrots. There may be an eggplant kurma with some other assorted vegetables that even taste cannot help to identify their variety. After these substantial sauces you will finish your meal with rasam or curd with salt. When you mix rasam which is like a light sometimes oily vegetable broth with your rice the rasam should be almost double the amount of rice. Then when you scoop up handfuls of rice the rasam is fully present and the Indians will tell you drinking rasam aids in digestion. Feel free to drink the rest from your plate when all the rice is gone. If you opt for curd this is basically like mixing yogurt and rice with a little salt for taste. The curd floats in its own juice which is like the water that separates in a cup of yogurt from the dairy section in the supermarket. Mix it all in add a tiny spoonful of salt mush it around and consume. After if you are lucky there will be some kaserie which is a sweet orange grainy dessert usually accented with a cashew or there will be some payasam which is most similar to tapioca, but instead of grains of rice or tapioca balls there are noodles. You can drink these directly from the steel cup itself. After all of this you will want to take a nap right there on the table, but odds are that you've stopped for this rice meal on the way to your next destination so off you go, hopefully the bumpy Indian roads with diversions and all will aid in your digestion.

Comparative Chapals

2009-06-07T12:40:00.000-07:00

Chapals is the Tamil word for sandals. Sometimes referred to as slippers they differ from shoes which are called shoes, some Tamil English mixed language. Chapals should definitely not be worn with socks (just a tidbit of fashion advice especially white tube socks with champion logos like my parents). There are so many types of sandals it's hard to recreate the experience I am having with all the different varieties, take notice of how I said varieties instead of styles. Ok, so the styles in the shops are nice and all but this blog is about the hard core wear and tear of this dusty life of toiling in the fields and walking and walking and walking. This may be why many south Indians in Tamil Nadu choose to go without any protective footwear. Their feet are caloused and cracking with cuts and blisters, but apparently they have no concern for potential infection or fungal attacks. There is quite a discrepancy in the prevalence of people wearing shoes between the north and south. I would guestimate 99% of norther people wear shoes while maybe only 79% of southerners wear shoes. This percentage is definitely increasing with the availability of low cost models, but still health education will affect the rate change as well. You can see so many abandoned chapals on the side of the road and in trash piles ranging from mud covered single shoes to pairs of new looking chapals, there are foam varieties, but more rare is an abandoned pair of childrens footwear. I've met people who hobble around with chapals that look as if they've been worn for the past 25 years. The heel is completely worn through leaving holes at various angles depending on where the majority of their weight falls. Also many people wear chapals that they can just slide their foot into and flop around in loosely while walking. No matter if there are straps or ankle support they leave them open and redefine what a flip flop should be. I've been running for a train and my chapal has completely dislodged itself from my foot leaving me to retrieve it and attempt running again. That is what you get when you import Havianas or some other foreign product and attempt using it regularly in India. Mostly the chapals have a place for your big toe and then where ever the rest of your foot places itself seems like luck of the draw also taking into consideration the varietly of foot ailments and deformities. Today I saw someone with two feet, fortunately, but all their toes grew at 45 degree angles toward the pinky toe. This person was not wearing shoes and unfortunately there was a bag of bananas blocking my view of his foot when he sat behind me. There is also a common birth defect, potentially and highly likely to be from inbreeding, where there is an extra appendage at the end of your set of hopefully 5 toes just hanging out sticking off the outside side of your foot or hand. With sandals this node would probly enjoy itself dragging along the dusty ground as the rest of your toes were protected by the footbed of your chapal, but at the same time this may be best because when ever I see this defect I want to pluck the appendage off myself or just cut it quickly with my pocket knife. I think you would need an extra wide variety to protect this type of genetic deformity. Unfortunately I have yet to see any custom styles like that for someone who doesn't have enough money to seek medical attention in the first place to have it removed. I just got some new chapals from the Bata company which may be the most prominent commercial chain in India for shoes after my last chapals broke and I tried to repair them myself with superglue. I made four do it yourself attemps and after that failed they went in the waste bin. Whatever chapals you are wearing it is definitely best in a footwear optional culture to make sure that yours are easily removeable and replaceable. Don't get too attached because the quality of Indian shoes does not support the motto built to last. Maybe built to get dusty and fall apart is a more suitable motto for this country.

How many shawls can one priest have?

2009-06-07T11:45:00.000-07:00

In Tamil Nadu it is a sign of respect and a tradition to drape someone with a shawl when honoring them at an event or function. Recently I attended a Jubilee ceremony for on priest named Backianatham. This jubilee function commemorated his 25th year of service to the Roman Catholic church. The event was organized by one of the Lead Forward trust members as it was especially relevant that he is a Dalit priest and the location was a Dalit village. In events in Tamil Nadu some number of people are seated on stage in plastic chairs in a row. At least one row will be present sometimes more if necessary. The stage for this even was the church steps and entry way and you can imagine in a big Dalit village they will have a big church to hold all the attendees during mass. This stage was quite gigantic and as they were arranging chairs they seemed to squeeze about 20 or 25 people on the stage as more chair were popping up on the ends when more people arrived to fill them. Backianatham sat in the middle and for hours people gave speeches about Backinathams leadership and monumental career. He has really helped many people and supported many local projects as a leader. So after each speech out from the sidelines popped a sparkly or woollen shawl and the speech giver draped it over Backianatham and then posed for a cheesy photo that will go in some scrapbook and collect dust on a shelf with other 2009 memories. After about 20 shawls refolded in a pile were amassed I began to wonder after 25 years as a priest, not including his time as a brother how many shawls could be possibly have. Probably after 10 years and 15 years there is also a similar ceremony to collect shawls and this even excludes all the individuals who shawl him because he is a priest or helped their family. One thing to mention is the moment after being shawled you can remove the shawl, towel, fabric or some sort and another party folds it neatly along the creases as it was just unfolded from the package to be placed over your shoulders so there is really no time when you are wearing the shawl just people have the photos to construct the memory of that fine moment when you were wearing the shawl. After the jubilee I guestimate that Backianatham has about 3 house fulls of shawls probably exploding out of the windows and creeping through the cracks of the dried palm leaves and straw that make for a fine summertime roof. They layer the floor and could construct a plush bed or bench. You would never run out of makeshift pillows and there would always be shawls to shawl someone else with which brings me to the second rhetorical question... Is it appropriate to re-shawl someone with a shawl that you've been shawled with? As a final comment I know one priest who gives the shawls and towels to all the people in his native place. After spending six days with him I saw his shawl pile triple and he's only been ordained as a priest for one year. What will his jubilee ceremony be like?

Hindu Temples vs. Starbucks

2009-06-07T11:25:00.000-07:00

Hindu Temples are as common in Tamil Nadu as Starbucks on the streets of New York City. This hypothesis doesn't need any factual support with numbers and statistics, all you have to do is go for a walk in either place, take that amount as equivalent to the other then you can understand the magnitude of both coffee monopolies and religious invasion. Ten years ago NYC was full of small businesses setting up great coffee shop with themes and atmosphere. Whether you were in Chelsea or Soho the locals would be able to guide you in the direction of a coffee shop that was uniquely New York. Once Starbucks took off and buying overpriced latte's became trendy, because what else can starving artists and underpaid waitresses afford? Maybe one sample at the Triple Five Soul sample sale per year, but enough Starbucks frappachino's to fulfill their daily need for caffeine they multiplied forcing all the small business back to jersey or upstate to struggle with small town shops and cafes. Result: Starbucks is a huge success and monopolizes the coffee industry in NY and across the US as well. Well, no longer am I a New Yorker, I am an Indian girl, or at least I am trying to become one. Okay I can't speak Tamil though one of the recognized national languages is English, and I posses brown hair and hazel eyes, but I wear the local dress hang out with only local people, eat and cook the local food, so those factors should count for some transformation in me. If you walk down my street in Chengelpattu you pass some churches, boarding schools, hospitals and shops, but in every Hindu shop, and let's face it most of the shop owners are caste people so they are Hindu, there is a small shrine. In between the churches and schools are wooden huts sheltering statues of Ganesh or Shiva. This doesn't account for the two story tall blue cats that protect the Hindu temples when you drive from Chengelpattu to Pondicherry or the historical sandstone temple which consists of four temples inside the fortress walls that makes Tanjore so famous, no, only I'm speaking about Chengelpattu itself. If you go inside any Hindu persons home they definitely have a turmeric or sandalwood mark on their door to bless their home and they will have a small shrine or a shelf full of idols that they can worship any time they wake up, after going to toilet, or after returning from the wine shop. So we've discusses the homes, makeshift shrines, shop devotees and large temples throughout the state, but what about the individual temples themselves. If a Hindu person own land there will be a temple there. In a village in the Hindu section there will be a temple there. Even on the dashboard of a Hindu car there will be a god to worship and adorn with fresh flowers everyday. You pass the colorfully rainbow colored tower style temples taking the bus anywhere on any highway. You see the Hindus dressed in bright red going for pilgrimage to the appropriate temple that they feel is best. You see the stark white temples where the gods all blend together with faint shadows separating their bodies from cow tails and other architectural details. After seeing this blasphemy of religion, if you can call a system of idol worship that supports an oppressive system of caste religion, everywhere it becomes as common as trash piles that the cows munch on all day. It is so common that the people themselves oppress because of the Hindu religion and it's smirti without even realizing why or how their own beliefs allow them to degrade other human to feel less than the dirt they themselves walk on. Once a few people can realize how common and robotic their entire "religion" is then they can start to think for themselves and realize the mistake they have made by adorning a plastic cow with jasmine flowers in the perfect shade of ivory.

White Babies

2009-05-09T09:14:00.000-07:00

If you take a moment to examine the public reading material in the US, mainly magazines, newspapers textbooks etc, the photographs of so called ordinary people are usually black or white like the people in our country. This is not meant to be racist in any way, just to see some cultural differences and really examine racism beyond the obvious black and white. I visited the card shop today to find a birthday card for my nine year old friend Ashwithi. She speaks English fluently and can be seen taking the center of attention or vying for it. At the card shop there were many cards to choose from. Mostly birthday cards, some for Christmas and some for holy communion. The card I picked had a butterfly theme with a pop out inside which I thought was great for the occasion, but I could have easily picked a drawing of a white naked baby holding a rose with some gold glitter instead. There were no cards with black babies or Indian babies, or Swedish babies. Earlier this year I photographed a Math book and on the first page of the first lesson was a white baby with a bumblebee costume. Who is this child and why are they in the Math book for LKG students? Can an Indian student aged 6 identify with a white baby? Chances are they have never seen a white person before. During my first month here for Pongol holiday I went to the village Alagapasamuthiram and met our successful student Susai's mother. She is also a success story and inspires her whole village among others with her hard work and dedication to provide funding for her children to complete studies through college. On the wall in the main room of their house there were two posters with motivational phrases.... and WHITE BABIES. Susai's mother is obviously Indian, so why are the people famed on the walls white? The British rule in India was a detrimental time of exploitation and segregation. The caste system itself sprouted from British Brahminical thinking. The people who are oppressed in villages want to identify themselves in their home and school with the same color person that put them in the situation to struggle for basic survival. I think if you explained this they would not accept this arrangement, so why are there white babies? Don't get me wrong I've seen some Asian babies on posters in pediatric hospitals and saree shops, but the majority of the subjects are clearly of Aryan descent. Today also I began to promote the slogan 'Black is Beautiful' to two shop girls who were saying how beautiful I was after buying some kerchiefs. I dominated after they put themselves down by comparing the color of their arm to mine and said their arm was the better color, my face is an ugly red color and I want a beautiful face like theirs, even throwing in the Tamil words for good and beautiful. The didn't have a chance to combat because they felt a moment of confidence and were too shocked to react. The printing presses should start photographing Indian babies and the tradition of putting a black dot on a child's face and feet so say they are too young to be complimented should be outlawed. You should be able to say an infant is beautiful or cute even without having to worry about some made up curse threatening their future. I've met people suffering from the effects of the evil eye and I feel terrible that they are the only ones making themselves suffer so. It's pitiful. In resolution, make and buy posters with Indian babies, compliment infants on their looks and features and forget about the imaginary spirits that will threaten your entire psyche and physical being. Affect your future by taking full advantage of NOW!

My Wedding Ring

2009-05-06T04:36:00.000-07:00

So after being in India four months I have learned first hand about the reputation that preceds foreign women. Not only have I heard stories and read them in the news about incidents when foreign women acted in a most unrespectable manner, but I have seen volunteers wearing provocative clothing even around children. This reputation extends to me and it is something I am battling against along with the stereotype that all foreigners are super rich. In this fight to the finish I have made one purchase that has changed my individual status and if it were true and I returned to the US I would get some tax breaks. I bought a wedding ring. Ok, so it is a seriously cheap imposter costing 70 rupees or $1.40. Now it is becoming tarnished... must be the water. The backside has been scratched through to expose its copper color, and sometimes it turns my finger green, but the stories I tell and the jokes between my local friends are quite entertaining. Men will be quite provocative in shops and especially on buses. The only prompt for them is my white skin. Not even my western clothing is an excuse for this forward behavior because all the modern girls wear jeans. So now I am a married woman. I usually say I have been married for a year and have no children because then I would have to stay in my country because I would miss them too much. Last week my husband was an architect and this week he is a banking manager. The best joke is that last week I had a son, really no morning sickness or stretch marks. My husband is supposed to come visit in June, but we talk every couple days and the situation is really difficult. Sometimes I just laugh to myself and try to imagine marrying a bank manager. What kind of life would I lead then? Fortunately this tends to ward off the more strange behavior, but the intentions won't change. People are no different, having extramarital affairs and prostuting themselves. If someone is trying to touch you inappropriately they will manage to do it. Really this is an experience to understand how the women are thought of in society. Their sex is not given respect, but they will be exploited for sex with no consequence. Who knows what my husband will be doing next week or if i'll have quintuplets, but in the mean time I am having some interesting unavoidable life experiences.

2009-05-05T10:57:00.000-07:00

2009-05-05T10:51:00.000-07:00

Code of Conduct

2009-05-05T10:31:00.000-07:00

Chennai is a wild city, and traveling by any means is always an adventure. In my last visit I was going with my friend and fellow activist Sherin to meet a team of drug sellers in the district of Guindy. No, we weren't going to fuel our cocaine addiction, these people are selling pharmaseuticals under the prestegious name Swiss Garnier. Personally I think of pocket knives mixed with hair products from Swiss Army Knives and Garnier Fructis shampoo's and conditioners. From Perambur we took an auto rickshaw that Sherin had already taken one tour of the city with previously that day. You have to be careful not to hire a drunkard, then your drive will be more nauseating and dangerous than imagineable. Since she trusted this driver she hired him again. The drive in auto is almost one hour through the dusty streets, past slums and high class neighborhoods and hotels, but this certain adventure would show how comfortable I have become as an expatraite, and also how much more adaptation I would need to really become a local. We were driving along a stretch of road consisting of three lanes, at least the pavement marking were for three lanes, but the drivers created about 5. This auto rickshaw driver had been driving dangerously close to every car, person, and fueling tank that we approached. In one instance a two wheeler, otherwise known as a motorcycle rolled back 1 inch after coming to a stop in traffic and hit the auto because our driver was so close to his bike there was no place for his movement of any kind. Fortunately or not this couple was muslim and the woman on the back of the bike was sitting side saddle wearing a burka. As soon as her eyes met the auto man's her arm flew in the air and a clenched fist began waving in his direction. He tried to pay no mind, but because he was so close her scolding was unavoidable. So on the three lane open road the traffic was building. Auto man's phone started ringing in his pants pocket. He began frantically searching for it, something to distract him from his hectic and semi-unfortunate life and a driver. He ended up missing the call but slowed the auto so much so that he was lagging behind all other traffic. He placed the phone next to his left leg on the seat. About 3 minutes later the phone rang and his erratic driving slowed again. He began talking and driving Sherin and I. This moment is similar to being the passenger on a motorcycle driven by one hand. I freaked out. Earlier I had asked for his accident record and he told me he was a very safe cautious driver. No way I felt safe at this point. I began first telling him to hang up the phone, louder and louder I commented. He began talking about me in another language to the third party. After he hung up in annoyance I really sent him some words. I told him he was an idiot for disobeying the traffic laws that you can't drive and speak on the phone and that he knew better. I told him I didn't want to die in India and that he was responsible for my life, Sherin's life and his own which clearly didn't affect him at all. Then I said if he recieved any other calls he must pull over and by this point I was making huge gestures with my arms to explain myself better. I'm sure he understood everything I said. He said the call was an emergency and I said I didn't care who it was he must pull over or i'll beat him until he does. I told him that he knew better and why didn't he use his head to think instead of just hold the phone to it. Does he want to die? I pestered him until his repeated yes mam's because monotonous. So much for the traffic police or the intense signs saying all these things like talking on the phone and drinking will kill you and someone else in your potential accident. Really the signs are intense I'll post some traffic and health safety signage in the future. So now i'm working to change the individual and act as a mother or guidance counselor for all the misdeed's I witness. I can almost guarantee that I didn't affect him at all, but at least Sherin was entertained for part of the ride.

Are you in India?

2009-05-03T07:53:00.000-07:00

You know when you're in India because in the month of May the rooftops and sidewalks are too hot to walk on without shoes. Even when you say the word shoes it only means enclosed footwear. If you are referring to sandals which everyone is wearing then you should refer to them as slippers. If you are washing your laundry by hand in buckets then you go and hang them to dry in the sun you first try to go without shoes because it is the most natural and lazy way, but soon after the soles of your feet are red and they feel like they are covered in 1,000 blisters you hold your dripping wet clothes on one arm and put your shoes on with the other.
You know you're in India when you wake up in the morning and after opening your eyes you are already sweating like you have just been working out at the gym. If you take a shower you need to have an initial sweat to block your pores so you sweat less afterwards or you are already wet so you don't feel as if you are sweating as much. If you eat a meal anytime during the day or night, even after the sun sets and the cool night air consumes your surroundings, you will sweat. Whether it is the curry spices or the work you have to do chewing and feeding yourself you will be sweating like a fat white man at New Jersey beach.
You know you are in India if you have strange happenings with your skin. If you go for a walk and then prepare to take a bath and see heat rash all over your thighs or sit on the floor during dinner and then realize that your leg is covered in red ants that are biting you. If you scrape your knee or scratch your mosquito bites and everyone shows concern and wonders how and what has happened to you similar to the effect of you being in a serious accident. If you being to examine other peoples strange skin ailments like albinism, boils, goiters, strange scars and then suspect yourself of the same problems. You are definitely in India.
If you are in a restaurant, meeting, medical shop, fruit stand, bus station or wherever and everyone around you is coughing and hacking and spitting pieces of their throats on the ground you are definitely in India. I think at least half the population has some kind of bronchial infection, irritation or just enjoys hacking. The intensity of the dust is something that no human body, no matter how long you have worked to adapt to this environment, cannot get used to. The pollution and exhaust from the cars with no emission standards is definitely another culprit, but no one is complaining about that.
You know you are in India when you ask local people for directions and they themselves don't even know where places are. Is it before or after the slum area?Is it the first street on the right or the second street on the left. If you read the book India: Culture Shock as I did before visiting you will be informed that people will make up directions even if they don't know where your destination is. As if it is making you less manly if you admit that you don't know where the location is. This is something to hilariously compare to the US with the notion that men won't ask for directions. After living in India, I'm not sure if it's women's instinct or experience, but I can tell when someone is making up directions even if they seem totally legitimate. This is definitely a task that needs superior focus because the directions are being given to someone in my party in Tamil. Sometimes the attitude or the drunken slurs that give it away.

Is this a beach vacation?

2009-04-16T05:04:00.000-07:00

It seems somehow, as fortunate as I may be, whether it is almost getting hit by a bus or motorcycle, or getting to taste some random exotic fruit I've never tried before that I always end up at the beach. In my journey so far I have not taken any time on my own to travel away from Lead Forward and have spent most all of my time with people working for the program or in relation to impoverished people in India. I have maximum 4 non Indian acquaintances and I call them that because 3 of them I've only met once, and the other has left the country. So how is it that I have all these magnificent beach experiences. I've been to the tourist beaches where historic temples come with a high fee for entrance, even for India. I've been to the biggest beach 13km long with a width that you could hold track and field events. I've seen boys practicing gymnastics and break dancing flipping and flopping in the sand and crashing into the sea. I've been accosted by boys with their 'pet' monkeys trying to get any rupee from the foreign girl. I've been to deserted beaches where fishing villages are still trying to reconstruct their lives after tsunami devastation. I've been taken out to sea in their hardcore boats with thumping trumpets of engines cruising along with priests and administrative assistants. I've been to the most deserted village beaches near Cuddalore where all the industrial factories are developing without any pollution control. To compare the most industrial places with the most natural without any restrictions for either, no wonder they say Cuddalore is the #5 most polluted city in the world. I wonder what the future toxicity of that gorgeous beach will be. I've sat under a palm tree plucking roses to put in my hair while eating cashew biscuits and drinking Pepsi. I've had women's empowerment discussions under these palm trees. I've been to the touristic Silver Beach where there have been so many people it's difficult to see the sand or walk and on other visits I've relaxed in the sand for hours losing track of time discussing philosophy and culture. I've indulged in cashew butterscotch ice cream that costs only 20 cents. It's rich creamy half melted consistency cooling me along with the sticky ocean breeze. I've sat with families. I've sat with friends. I've sat with clergy. I've debated with security officers who don't speak English and bad mouthed commissioners who have come to inspect and regulate the beach scene. I've eaten fried, battered bananas, chillies and onions wiping my greasy fingers on my jeans or some newspaper. I've swam with skirts, jeans and churyda, but never in a swimsuit. I've been an assistant architect for magnificent sandcastles and posed in photos with random strangers. I've watched the sun set into the sparking black sea it's blazing pink, orange and red colors captured, everlasting by my dinosaur of a camera. For all the frustration and fight the oppressed are faced with whether or not they can afford a cinema ticket to distract themselves for three hours at least there is so much natural beauty that they can surely be distracted for a while.

School Time

2009-04-16T04:52:00.000-07:00

clockwise from top left:

-Dalit Graduation Ceremony, Chennai with students from Dr. Arullappa, Neerpayer

-3rd Std. students at St. Joseph's Porour (Fr. Jayaseeleans establishment)

-Sacred Heart, Cuddalore: Sister Sagayam teaching embroidery stitches

-English reading practice at Sacred Heart Cuddalore Hostel

-Lead Forward students of Sacred Heart Cuddalore

-My visit of St. Mary's Chengelpattu

Political Excellence

2009-04-16T04:04:00.000-07:00

Election time is coming to India and that means there is a lot of excitement and a lot to be wary of. Individuals who have received a seat in any particular party have begun to campaign to hopefully be elected and officially join their respective party. They need to have intense financial backing, just like in the states to get any ideas to the actual people, but instead of signage in a front yard or a bumper sticker on a car in India it means visiting individual villages, to many to count, and giving bribes in terms of jewelry, rupees, rice or other rations. People may vote for you because you truly have good ideas, but they are used to getting something from the politicians in exchange for their vote. Especially in rural places the desire for stuff is becoming increasingly important. The grass is greener on the other side is how they are being trained to think because of the effects of the media and capitalism. If my neighbor buys a DVD player for his government given television surely I need to buy a DVD player and a computer. So if one politician is giving gold earrings and the other is giving promise for the future the lack of education and desperation based on socio-economic factory, that family will probably take the earrings and place a vote with the more corrupt candidate. Typically the village people decide who will win in the election because there are so many more people living rurally than as city dwellers. Of course the candidates know this and take full advantage. This is also the reason why more violence is happening in the villages. Capturing of polling stations, illegal balloting, false votes etc. I have met people who have told me how they changed the votes of entire villages and it has resulted in a favorable outcome in the election for those people participating in the corruption. As exciting as election time is, it is also a time to be aware of the random danger that may erupt in local towns and cities. A political demonstration could turn violent. People are commonly burning themselves in support of Tamils in Sri Lanka and they may well do the same to support their political party. The television commericals with current pop songs and animated political figures transformed into symbolic leaves, sunsets, or Rubik's cubes are catchy and fun, yet they are hiding the danger and corruption seemingly joined with politics in India.

Happy Birthday B.R. Ambedkar!

2009-04-16T03:39:00.000-07:00

Monday was Ambedkars birthday and boy what a celebration was had. I was invited by my friend and activist Sherin who is working in Chennai for a women's support and post graduate studies financial support for college students. She told me it was an important day and that if I could manage I should attend the event she helped to organize to celebrate the ideas and life of Ambedkar on his birthday occasion. Since I had just returned to Chengelpattu the day before I was planning to spend a couple days catching up on reading and e-mailing so I figured it was a good idea to take the day and participate in supporting Ambedkar as he is a great role model for the Dalit makkal. I managed to meet Sherin after taking two buses and one auto rickshaw (mind you they were all in Tamil script) with the help of some nice local Tamilians. It seemed to me that this arrangement would be a small meeting of sorts and was just a good opportunity to interact and learn from the dalit network. The even was beyond anything I could have been prepared for. There were women cooking pongol with cow dung and clay pots, there was a stage with famous singers and politicians even one celebrity actor, there was an art display and an Ambedkar museum, there was an Ambedkar statue, book vendors, a ferris wheel and so many people. Police in khaki uniforms lined the street in clusters and pretended to look busy arranging the motorcycles that were parked on vacant lots. It was fantastic. Just arriving I encountered three or four people I knew and throughout the day there were so many of my friend comprised of fellow activists, leaders, teachers, priests and students. We watched traditional dancing, Sherin received an award, people made speeches, political figures danced on stage. We ate chicken biriyani wrapped in plastic then in newspaper in packets tied with white string. The grease and spices soaked through the plastic and paper and coated your palms and fingertips. Everyone sat in a circle and mushed chicken into rice and rice into egg to make sticky balls of food and pop them in their mouths. I met an Ambedkarist named Mr. Thousand Sunshine who is trying to teach me how child voting rights will end caste and establish equality. I challenged him on the spot of course and asked him if children should also be legally allowed to purchase and consume liquor. He said I was out of line and that didn't have any relevance to his idea. Unfortunately after the fashion design students from Dr. Arullappa school in Neerpayer and the politicians finished their impromptu dance presentation on stage I was asked to give a speech about. Surprise! You're on stage infornt of hundreds of people without any preparation and you have to speak to the people. I spoke some basic Tamil words which is always a crowd pleaser then told everyone to spread the word about Ambedkar and his influence in society. Teach the students, teach your friends, teach your grandparents. Then I tried my best at creating this total dalit network and said we have to work together to fight oppression and carry out the dream and goals that Ambedkar embarked on. Fortunately Sherin translated this for me and I was applauded and people came asking me to give my autograph, take photos with their children, wanted my phone number... you name it! Even one young man was dancing for me...okay, so that was most awkward even beyond the speech and autographs, but in general I have learned as a foreign person you have an obligation to the people and something seemingly strange and minuscule as signing an autograph can really make someone happy for the moment. It was a great celebration for the dalit people and for all people, regardless of caste and creed, to come together in the name of change and with the ideas of Ambedkar. I look forward to being part of the planning comittee for these events in the future. On April 18 I will spend some time with Sherin in Chennai working on how to get more college support for Lead Forward students and to become part of more programs and organizations working to eradicate caste and oppression.

Bucket Life

2009-04-15T08:08:00.000-07:00

Bucket and pots of all kinds can be found in India and the uses are vast and various. Steel is the most common type of plate or bowl material. It is also the material of all tumblers most importantly tea cups. In the home tea will be served in steel, in public tea stalls, tea will be served in glasses. If you are a guest then tea may even be served in china in a petit cup and saucer. There are some porcelain factories specializing in the craft just like the people who specialize in clay pot making. In the morning I wake up sweaty with red cheeks from my hot summer sleeping. I go to the bathroom and begin to fill a bucket. Mathews apartment has four buckets and depending on what my activity I may use three or one. There is an opaque salmon colored bucket with matching pouring cup for toilet use. There is a large turquoise bucket with blue pouring cup for showering and then there is a small opaque speckled gray bucket and a translucent white bucket with blue streaks both of which I will use when washing my clothes. It is always good exercise to do the washing but if I have access to a washing machine my clothes will definitely be cleaner. I will fill the turquoise bucket for my bath. Since I have been here I have reduced my water consumption from one and a half turquoise buckets to only one. Sometimes I will take an extra cupful of water to collect all my curly hairs and spot clean the bathroom. The knob filling the salmon colored bucket needs to be pushed down in the last second before it closes, it took me a couple tries to get used to that. If I am doing my wash I will normally do two loads. First one soapy bucket with the clothes I will imitate a washing machine and use this plastic scrubbing brush for spot cleaning or general abrasion. The dhobis who make a living washing clothing smack the tuni (clothes) on abrasive cement surfaces. The smack them in bundles making a musical rhythm of the sloshing and sudsy water splashing all around. If you have any buttons or embroidery with beading better to use the gently cycle and do it yourself. After the first washing there are two buckets waiting for me each half filled with water. Taking a shirt by the shoulders or a pant by the waist I quickly and repeatedly dip the garment in and out of the water. In the position of the women working in the paddy fields bent at the waist with knees straight I will rinse in the first bucket, ring the garment out and then rinse in the second bucket. Depending on if there is any soap in the second bucket I know whether my technique is working or not. This technique I learned here, though I have not adjusted to the musical sloshing yet, but initially upon my arrival I was just washing in the first bucket and then running water from the tap over every clothing. It took me forever and was totally wasteful. The most poor people know the best most creative ways to use all materials efficiently and effectively. I have yet to see a dryer and part of the fun is stepping into crispy fresh smelling jeans that have been soaking up the suns rays and are rapidly becoming threadbare and full of holes.

Political Exile

2009-03-19T02:15:00.000-07:00

Last week I was visiting the Loyola Teacher Training Institute in one village Krishnankuppum. To have a college level institution in a village is one thing amazing in itself. The fact that this school turns out students with the highest ranks in the district creates that much more credibility. I had met with the director at the Pongol Holiday function and he invited me back to visit the school which unbelievably actually happened. I observed classes, wrote and received letters from the students, and talked about future developments. Always in India, everything boils down to money. The financial obstacle is the most prominent in any interaction with an organization or school to a beggar or performer on the street. I had a good experience and then decided to continue my time with this director, Dalit Arockidoss. We went to Chennai for some political experience and most importantly, one meeting uniting many of the Christian Educational and Political movements in Tamil Nadu. By this point in my journey, most of my time has been spent with priests, sisters or in Christian institutions, so I was hesitant, but this experience seemed interesting to me because Dalit Arockidoss is basically against most interpretations of Christianity and he wants to educate people to use religion in a positive not desperate or dependent way. He has a let it be how it will be philosophy. So I joined this excursion through the Dalit Christian Liberation Movement (DCLM). I attended one small meeting with only the DCLM, about 10 members, standing on a road alongside a fence by a Christian church and school. There were no rooms available for us contrary to what we had expected. This meeting relocated to another church led by a local bishop and then about 40 people filtered in within one hour. Only one woman attended, she is a minister. We were the only two female participants. I found the discussion interesting, but achieving one platform to unite with a political party still seemed like an impossible task, this was largely caste related. Afterwards the DCLM went to BSP parties clubhouse where I began my political exile. Without pages of detail, the BSP wants to unite all castes and people through politics, but they have given many seats to high caste rich people so they are exhibiting some corruption. In the UP there is a Dalit woman who is the CM and a BSP representative. She wants to gain power in TN. Having a Dalit acting as CM is a great provocative way to battle oppression, but through her activities, she now has more crows that most other politicans and CM's. Thus the corruption continues as people still don't respect her because she is a Dalit which is why she has not succeded in becoming the CM of TN. The DCLM wanted to get some seats through the party to contest in the election and my presence was equivalent to foreign money so I went for a walk and took a nap in the car. The following two days included related events at the BSP clubhouse and attempts to get the paperwork for one of 40 seats with the party. Each time I took a necessary nap in the car. Late nights of political discussions and venting with huge afternoon meals at hotels (restaurants) in political force of 10-20 people was definitely worth sleeping fewer hours. The final day in Chennai the DMK Chief Minister Karunanidhi was coming to their headquarters and I became a foreign press agent in the lineup that was organized to welcome him. Karunanidhi is 87 years old, ridin' a wheel chair and has just been released from the hospital. He always wears dark expensive sunglasses. I was woken abruptly and rushed from the car to join the masses. Still in a slight daze I placed my own $3 sunglasses on and hobbled after Dalit Arockidoss to the crowd. Immediately my bag was searched and three security guards had surrounded me. We crossed the center from one side to the other and a guard pulled me away from Dalit Arockidoss. Oh NO!! I thought, but abruptly I was forced into the small grouping of 5 women watched by a pushy woman in a lilac chury. I managed to snap one photo of Karunanidhi's arm and the rest just the masses of men wearing white. People rushed the car and Dalit Arockidoss suggested I do the same, so I slipped behind a hut and through a gate to join the news crews. Immediately a guard told me I was not allowed to take photos. Only me, next to the crowd of 20 photographers and videographers was given this command. A small man in a bell hop uniform told me to follow him to take some photos and I glanced at the security guard and did, but there were too many people to have even a fighting chance, so i retreated , joined Arockidoss and wiped my sweaty brow. What Arockidoss says is definitely true the whiter you are the more corrupt you are.

Camels and Monkeys Galore!

2009-03-19T01:33:00.000-07:00

Before coming to India I had a conversation with three native youngsters whose parents had immigrated to the US and were just about to have their fourth child. This was part of my preparation and intense informative sessions so generously organized by Phil and Nancy. I asked them prompted by their parents what animals you could find roaming India and they told me monkeys, cows, elephants, chickens and more! My interactions and sightings have been mixed and surprising. Every night, no matter where I am, I live with biting red ants, hazardous mosquitoes and croaking lizards that are almost translucent. The other evening at the RC Sendivakkam school a frog became my roommate. During the day while the insects are resting the monkeys roam. Everywhere. India has many national parks and zoos, most of which are well kept and highly touristic. They have white tailed deer, bird sanctuaries, elephant rides and nice paths and greenery. The monkeys are altogether overpopulated and imposing on peoples' families and shops. They live in the temples, dangle from coconut trees, and swing onto your roof. They will swarm your front door in the afternoon hoping to steal your lunch. They will have sex on the side of the roads and inhabit the school children's hostels. They are worse than the stray dogs whose mange covered coats are red and irritated. The dogs fight each other and sometimes pose a hazard to bystanders. It is best to create a safe perimeter, like an attendee at a cockfight their snarls and barks give warning for ferocious bites and brutal scratches. Typically only using three legs their stamina and breeding habits mimics that of the local women. The female dogs are always pregnant, but I seldom see puppies. The first and only time I have seen camels was on the streets of Chennai, it was like a moment from 'Aladdin', multicolored blankets and fringed bridles decorated the 8 or 10 camels walking majestically down the road past a gas station. Families have cows, goats, buffaloes, chickens and children (this is a joke, but in reality they are unhygenically linked to the animals that live with them on their property and in their homes). While visiting one school a goat was placed in my lap and this being unusual for me I didn't touch the goat so it ran wildly through the classrooms. I then needed to be the goat herder and somehow with the help of 5 students managed to get the goat stabilized on a bench, though I still had to hold it. It was bleating and scared like the pre-school students arriving at school in the mornings, not wanting to leave their mothers arms. The cows roam the streets of the city and I spot them munching on brightly colored posters and looking for small grassy plots. Cow paddies are everywhere and half of the time walking you should be looking down for either a cow poo or a human one will pass you by. Driving more rurally, the brake inspectors as Pastor Peter Paul Thomas calls them will make sure your attentiveness and vehicle maneuvering are at their highest level. Sometimes they will be running, sometimes traveling in huge packs meandering as they wish impossible to pass until the herder pokes and prods them in the right direction. Unfortunately for one huge buffalo the car he was inspecting did not have good brakes and therefore he lost his life. This life specifically took up half of the road he was a mammoth! It's a dangerous job, but since he police are negligent responsibility get passed along. I saw an iguana like the one I used to have crawling on the ledge next to Preem's house. Preem is also a monkey intimidator and his dance with a broom handle is not to be taken lightly. If only my iguana would have found his way to India, I'm sure he would have been happier than enduring the torturous care I neglected to give him. As bothered I am by the insects constantly crawling on me or the hornets invading my bathrooms building their immaculate homes alongside a mirror, the locals don't take any notice, this is life and I'm working on adjusting. One thing all the animals share is their understanding of Tamil and rarely English, so there goes another barrier for my communication obstacles!

Doing so much when it seems like so little

2009-03-19T01:08:00.000-07:00

As I write this in a revolutionary mindset (as usual) listening to the Flaming Lips on my Ipod, one of my small indulgences, I can literally watch the city of Chengelpattu changing around me. There are buildings sprouting up all through the Ranga Street Apartment neighborhood where workers make makeshift shacks and sleep on mats on top of trash littered streets. They cook here, brush their teeth here, and their toddlers yell at monkeys that attempt co-habitation. The economic stimulation is always mixing with the extreme poverty. How can one organization like Lead Forward have any hope when it is surrounded by an overwhelming despair? I can easily tell you how. From the first moment that a student of ours speaks to me in English and clearly understands my speech to the good marks and comparative conversations I have with priests at Christian schools these moments motivate and pulse with our LF students determination and motivation. I wish they could chant "We Will Overcome" in a rally down the streets of Chennai. From our one college student Tamilarsi calling herself black beauty to our new sixth standard student Nitiya Deeshika reading her own sponsors letter in English and seeing her clutch the 8.5x11 white paper with some indescribable compulsion. I am working with Phil to develop relationships between our students and the Lead Forward India leaders, the students don't yet understand which relationships are going to affect their future successes. Will it be those with their parents, sometimes inhibiting for guiding purposes, or those with their teachers who hopefully they will use as role models and keep in contact with them always, or is it the LF India leaders? It can be all three we can teach them through our LF India leader sand I am working to start that movement. The more motivation and support the better because though there is pressure from society there are students that slip through the cracks without motivation and given misguided support. Though there are always struggles and in India, corruption seems to rule over most of them like a monarchy, the memories and incidents that stick with me fortunately are the ones that will give Lead Forward the bright future we so desperately need and deserve. It is government exam time for our 10th and 12th Standard students, their test scores will directly determine their future. They will be eligible for scholarship and learning groups/levels based on their results. Wishing them the most focus and concentration and the least stress and distraction!

A full day

2009-02-23T11:39:00.001-08:00

This morning waking up was almost impossible. I let the alarm on my cell phone play through twice then followed that with snoozing twice as well. When I reset the alarm time to 8:15 I knew I would be paranoid lying in bed waiting for Fr. Arockinatham to climb the stairs to my room and call for me to come down for breakfast. I pondered thinking to ask to eat late today, but what's the point of eating alone? As the thoughts meandered through my sleepy head my name was surely echoing in the stairwell and I was half tripping, half sleepwalking to the door. I hurried to get dressed and join the two priests caring for me at St. Joseph's Branch School where I have been staying since last Thursday. We ate breakfast chatting casually about my itinerary, theology thesis's, and hiring teachers. The dosai were crispy and fresh before they absorbed the coconut tomato chutney and sambar with big yellow dal. There were noodles flash fried with curry leaves, tomato, chili peppers and spices. Everything was churned in my stomach by a tea cup of coffee, something in size resembling the tea parties of my childhood, but being India it was white fine porcelain with blue tulips and lillies (they make many ceramics and porcelain here) and not a pink plastic set. The instant coffee powder combines with rock sugar and hot milk fills my cup dissolving the two as the tiny metal spoon revolves in circles. I arranged to go visit the Primary Matriculation School in the morning at 10:00 to see whose English skills were boss and what was really being taught in the classes. After eating I went back to sleep. I gathered all my energy to eat breakfast and make conversation just to lay back on my palm tree beach front printed polyester bed cover. Once again struggling with the alarm I rose with 10 minutes to get ready. Being 10 minutes late is like being early as I checked the clock and walked across the sunny campus to the Primary School. I attended 3 early learning classes (UKG, and LKG standards) and then took a break with the students playing tag, called lock and key here, in the playground. Private English schools have the funds for a playground. I raced with the students running so fast in a labryinth pattern across the sandy plot. My speed got ahead of my feet around the fifth child I tagged and before you knew it me and one boy student tumbled to the earth landing on our knees. I brushed myself off, looked at the hole in my jeans and proceeded to run after another victim. After the bell rang and I was feeling grimy with sand I realized I was not only sweating profusely, as playing tag in 90degree heat will do that to someone, but I was also bleeding. I drank about half a liter of water and excused myself to change and cool off. Sure enough I had a gorgeous battle wound on my left knee, but I returned shortly to see another UKG rhyming spectacular and 3rd standard science class. Lunch followed a short conversation about the government posting certain sexes to certain jobs and more explanation about why all the Primary School teachers are all women. We ate rice with greens, similar to a goulash of spinach and green beans, plantains fried in their vegetable state before they ripen to become a fruit, vadai which are fried donut shaped dough bits with onions, curry leaves and other surprises cooked inside, tomato chutney and sweet shredded beets. After the lunch I was dying to see the resource library which only the teachers have access to. It was a mildewed time warp into physics, English literature, India history, mathematics and more. I managed to borrow Krishnamurti The Impossible Question so I can become more of the philosopher since my mind tends to resort there naturally. "We never put the impossible question- we are always putting the question of what is possible. If you put an impossible question, your mind then has to find the answer in terms of the impossible not what is possible." Should be interesting. I watched a 10th std matriculation class English lesson have review for the government exam, smelled some righteous body odor and followed that with a short Q&A with some students. Before the day was over I attended a matriculation math lesson for 6th std. I graded and corrected the students graphs trying tune their ears to my accent. Both fathers and I reconvened over coffee and lassi's and then the homeopathy began. As the puss oozed from my lock and key wound I scratched my mosquito bites vigorously. Fr. Arul taught me his grandmothers homeopathic remedy for healing wounds by rolling the leaves of a pundu chapati plant in my hands I generously applied the extracted green juice from my calves to my toes. I sure looked authentic with hairy legs that were now green, mosquito bite relics, and a juicy wound adorning my knee. Laughing somehow inspired father to show me a magic trick using my bangle bracelets,. Now I can surely impress all the youngsters I meet in the future. I napped, wrote in my diary, ate dinner and took a bath before a last minute Hindu adventure began. Today is Shiva Maharatri, a devotion to Shiva in all his many forms. It is celebrated by staying up all night and of course dancing, lighting ghee in clay pots and eating. Around 10:00 we left on motorcycle to a temple close by, of course previously a secret to me. The temple had a festival going on for Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev who runs an Ashram in Coimbatore. There was streaming live video in English where Sadhguru enlightened the listeners with his philosophies. I ate sweet pongol and tomato rice from a betel tree plate... the most natural way! Then we went roaming the temple. There were so many people I was sweating and taking photos, holding my purse tightly as instructed, security guards and women passing me by purposely brushed up against me or stared unabashedly, gods were in statue or mural form all around me and the heat from the burning ghee turned my face red with the heat as I walked by. I was holding a 3rd graders hand for protection, trying to take in the frankincense filled dwelling. There were people picnicking, decorating statues with flowers, beggars calling out to me, gurus in orange looking important it was a sense engulfing maze. One temple led to another through a path past generators and chili peppers littering the floor, I was completely lost. We ended at the Baradanotiam dance event and the accordion pleated brightly colored rich silks were as culturally unique as the heavy make up outlining the lady dancers eyes, lips and brows. It was a feast for the eyes as the Karnata music played booming into the night.

Dalits Ostracised

2009-02-21T10:38:00.000-08:00

The New Indian Express
Friday, February 20, 2009/ Chennai

M Rafi Ahmed/ENS
Coimbatore, February 19

Discriminations against Arunthathiayrs at Nambiyampalayam village in Avinashi taluk has reached its nadir with upper caste people declaring a social boycott against them by closing down shops, preventing basic access even to basic consumer items like milk, grocery, and vegetables.
It all started when Jagannathan, an Arunthathiyar, scolded a teenaged boy, son of Nambiyapalayam village panchayat president N M Muthusamy, a Hindu, for throwing a stone at him.
Later, fighting broke out between the two groups with the dalits being severely outnumbered. The police had to intervene and tried to pacify the group. Cases were booked against both groups and Muthusamy's arrest sparked off a series of protests by the upper caste people with shops being closed and power looms coming to a halt.
Dalit Viduthalai Katchi general secretary M P Sengottaiyyan told Express that shops were still closed in Nambiyampalayam village and the shops in 12 other villages situated adjacent to Nambiyampalayam were denying essential commodities to dalits.
He added the government was hesitant to take action against upper caste people as they were keeping an eye on the forthcoming elections.
The district administration, whom the Aurnthathiyars approached a couple of days ago seeking help, failed to solve their problems. Instead the dalit people were arrested at the collectorate. District Revenue Officer Prabhakran however, assured that he would sort out the issue.
Speaking to Express Prabhakaran said that mini buses would be diverted to the village and arrangement would me made for the supply of milk through Aavin. Meanwhile, a strong contingent of police has been deployed at the village.

Reply to Mr. Peter Karpf... a short history

2009-02-21T10:36:00.000-08:00

To Mr. Peter Karpf:
Currently I am eating a yellow watermelon candy... that's a first! I'm glad you're enjoying my blog, I don't want to forget a minute of my exciting volunteer work here, I am also keeping a hand written diary. It's always fun when a group of students gather around me and try to read my writing and then giggle over the fact that I am left handed. I'm sure you know what the left hand is used for in a country without toilet paper that eats with their right. But for some reason they believe that scholars are left handed and in encounters with older groups they remark on Obama being left handed too. Ahhhh the optimism that a people who feel oppressed by their identity as much as their black skin exude. I used to work for a bridal designer (Janell Berte) and then after that a 6-month job with the Utah Shakespearean Festival. During that time I worked on my savings and I lived with my parents for the first job and the second offered free kibbutz type housing with no utilities fees. I studied fashion design so that's where those jobs came from, but I did it with an international flair in Italy and Hong Kong traveling as much as my bank account allowed probably helping me to end up in India today. That and my mothers (Gail's sister) mild obsession with the country and her relations to the non-profit i'm volunteering with as another board member. Their legal expertise to boot.
I'm obsessed with art, detail and color and am always on the lookout for inspiration. In a country like India the surplus is endless. From a school girls uniform to the Tamil script on a red and white government bus, i've been seen sketching or reading in my spare time. Also reading is a quaint hobby of mine. I just ordered four books about Dalit Movements and Women's Issues in India. Really excited for their arrival!
I am a student of India as I have been renamed Kalayersi (in pure tamil meaning fashion/art queen/princess, of course multiple meaning for each word) by one of the more inspiring students in the Lead Forward program. I am here to be an ambassador between the US Board of Directors and the India Board of Directors making facilitation between the two groups easier from everything like reporting, translation, communication improvement, incorporating ideas and suggesting new ones, to working with our students and graduates while at the same time studying their successes and failures. I am trying to gain an understanding about Indian culture, economy, society, religion, art, village life, education, politics and history. Through this vast goal I am building a fascinating network of NGO's, leaders, students, headmasters, priests, writers, teachers and everything in between. I am working on a scholarship proposal and promoting ideas about the future of education in India to various trusts and financial beneficiaries in the US, I am enjoying my career transformation from a fashion designer to a social worker and hope to create some sustainability and success for Lead Forward from my growing knowledge and exposure. I've always been inspired to help those less fortunate or teach someone something new and that is where I am getting the most satisfaction from. That and a respect for humanity that is pulsing in the state of Tamil Nadu. The media portrays the negative and controversial to all those who are engrossed in its fascinating storytelling manner, but in my personal encounters I see the pure good still trickling out into society and it refreshes my psyche and helps me reach my full potential in my volunteering quest. I will be posting the previous thought process on my blog. Thanks for your interest I just want more exposure to the Dalit condition in India.
Mango wishes cause mangoes are delicious,
Jessye

Toll Bus Stop

2009-02-19T09:29:00.000-08:00

This morning I took a refreshing bath before the water magically shut off... I had just enough water to get the conditioner out of my hair and the soapy suds off my toes. Then it was a quick steel tumbler of black tea, which means no milk (paal) and serious sugar complimented by a steel bowl of oats with a sliced banana. I had packed my bag the night before when Mathew informed me I had been scheduled to stay at St. Joseph's Branch school the next day. Preem arrived to discuss a few important matters and then take me to pick up my new Lead Forward business cards, then to the bus station. Traveling by bus is always the cheapest and most interesting way I travel, though I can't do it alone because the Tamil alphabet still boggles me. So the business card pick up was scheduled for 10:00a.m., and I think we must have finished around 11, not bad. I left the printing shop with 100 business cards, custom designed for me in color at a total cost of $6. Off to the bus station, or so I thought. When we passed the road leading back to Mathews away from the bus stand I figured there was another stand on the other side of the city. I casually asked Preem where we were catching the bus as we prepared to merge onto the highway, my vintage Kelty blue suitcase ripping into my fleshy shoulders as I tried to balance on the back of his Honda motorcycle. Preem said the direct buses to Cuddalore, my destination, were only passing through the toll plaza and not entering Chengelpattu town. 1km to Toll the highway sign read as we coasted at a casual 40km/hr. It is not required by law to wear a helmet unless you are in Chennai, and as with the rest of India, rules are meant to be broken. We crossed four lanes of traffic in a smooth swoop and parked on the rocky dirt embankment next to the toll booths. I followed Preem weaving between passing cars, lorrys, bikes and motorcycles to the dividing barrier between two lanes going south through the plaza. Most of the commissioned agents took notice. A white curly haired girl in something other than a saree definitely requires gawking. The buses passed frequently, Trichy, Villapuram, Tambaram, Chengelpattu, Madurai, but none for Cuddalore. We waited and sooner than later an official approached asking Preem our purpose. As soon as he explained they told me to put down my bag, stand with them, and they would hail the bus for me. How hospitable! I stood separated still avoiding the common slew of questions I would soon encounter and continued to watch the variety of people staring at me when they drove through the toll. Another operator approached this time with cucumber slices covered with salt and chili powder, Preem and I munched as he noted that this experience would not be had by any local person. I began to listen to life stories, a military man, now aged 62, who had a humanitarian spirit and a inquisitive attitude. A bachelor who finished his physics degree living in Villapuram and commuting 1 1/2 hours one way to the toll booth daily appreciated my fashion sense and told me about his three brothers, as he his their annan(eldest brother) I jokingly commented on his status as a role model for them to become bachelors too. So about 5 toll booth operators were working to help me and Preem find a Cuddalore bus. I witnessed a heated argument where a motorcyclist hopped off his bike, strategically placed it infront of a bus, and began to vehemently explain his piece of mind to the equally expressive bus driver. I saw some white foreigners questioningly stare me down as they passed in a black SUV. I got the sweetest smile from a woman with a window seat wearing a red and yellow saree. Needless to say after planning alternates in options of a taxi or hitchhiking a private bus going to Cuddalore finally came and I boarded with a small family. I took my seat on the floor above the third step where I had boarded the bus and began to read The Kite Runner as the breeze instructed my beaded pants to jingle toward the open door infront of me and coax my eyes to dance between the words on each page and the cows littering the grassy banks along the highway shoulder.

Top 6 Saree Uses

2009-02-18T01:50:00.000-08:00

1. Wiping sweat off of your brow and upper lip
2. Wrapping your infant into a sling so you wrangle the three or four others with your free hand
3. Wiping your children's faces and having a place to put their boogers at the same time
4. Sticking your kerchief, rupees, or wallet into it so you can multitask without holding any posessions
5. Always having something to sit on whether in sand, grass, or dirt that is wildly patterned to conceal any impurities
6. Being able to create and instant shawl, hat, scarf or sweater when you have a chill in the cool night air

An exerpt from my journal

2009-02-15T00:08:00.000-08:00

I'm walking beneath the hot Indian sun, its rays pulsing through the back of my neck while my sandals push down beneath the weight of my white body. Coming to think of yourself as a color is so dirty and backwards. The students all place their browned arms and hands next to mine and state how black they are. Their dark brown and black eyes show me way to their troubled thoughts and scattered emotions. Why have I been born as a Dalit and what does that even mean? Why has society selected me to be oppressed and poor while the high caste people aren't living with any heart of sense of reality, but they have nice food and a concrete roof over their heads. I'm walking to school it's about 8:30.m., the students have been awake since 4:30 or 5. They have already practiced yoga they have learned from a visiting guru, washed to be the most pure a human has potential to be, and eaten breakfast, the breakfast of everyday rice and sambar. A few radishes, some dal, and the spice of a green chili should make their bellies full and their bodies energized to take on their class schedule and let their voices flutter the national anthem and morning prayers. The huge power lines that rage over my head pass current I can hear whizzing through them. I imagine if the line would snap it would burst into flames or how the electricity could be causing cancer in those who surround it and use its energy when available to gain knowledge from their lessons with computers or see because of fluorescent lights that are bright penetrating the darkness of evening. I pass the women in printed saree making lunch for the students. Chopping onion and preparing at least 20 gallon pots full of white fluffy rice which in some instances has been given to the school by donation. They carry these pots in groups of four or five with the students, or the smaller ones they place on their heads walking ever so perfectly and waving at me in a military salute welcome as I pass them by. Learning about their past, I'm sure would be a struggle. To be a farmer or a cook and work hard for 1000 rs. a month ($10)... would you be an alcoholic with a bloated belly or liver disease? I would, you aren't left with much choice. But not the women, they are not allowed to partake in such activities. A nightcap to relax before your nightly slumber is unheard of the women are the ones who are constantly working. They sleep after their family has, they eat after their family has and they rise before their family has to nurture and feed those they serve. They suffer from goiters the size of softballs suspended on their necks, their feet are fungal and dry without shoes, their backs are bent as they mix and prepare, and their stomach is muscular as their saree sweeps to the side and exposes their dark flesh. The pillar of strength as Phil always states won't forever be subjected to the patriarchy of this country, they will be educated and their plight will be exposed as they strive for equality with the untouchables.

Success for the Right Brain

2009-02-14T23:04:00.000-08:00

I have had the most spectacular knowledge enhanced heartwarming 2 weeks. I have spent the past 10 days at the Dr. Arullappa School of Fashion and Embroidery Design witnessing creativity being an influence in Indian education. I have seen our students express leadership through design initiative and organizing dance and drumming sessions that are inspired from traditional Tamil dance and art. The rich culture and strength of the people here make Tamil Nadu a special state. Out of the entire country they have more Community Colleges than anyplace, an idea adopted from the US. Will this school, with correspondent Fr. Suresh, be an example for others in the future? Will the Indian government be able to see the students life smarts and creative thinking skills increase and adopt these measures in their own curriculum? Art in education is definitely linked to progress in developing Dalit students. As an optimist: Could this change the Indian policy for education? I surely hope so. Specifically our one LF student Madhan who failed 10th std has enrolled for 1 year in the Techincal Training Institute of Fashion at Dr. Arullappa. He has blossomed through freedom of expression and creative options into a determined, hard working, driven young man. He is the lead drummer in the local school group some of whose talents are taking them to Singapore and Malaysia for a competition. He involves great detail in his sketching and is a dedicated note taker. I think by having art as a hobby he will succeed when he is matriculated back into 11th standard for his final two years of High School. Our other students are also studying hard as the older ones especially are demonstrating obedience and organizational skills to their younger classmates. Hostel life is full for them and the smiles on their faces exhibit how lucky they are. Though they still struggle to escape their uneducated parents bad choices like bringing them dirty food or not knowing when to ask for medical help if they are sick, the pure and loving Raji, the 22 year old hostel warden gives everything to them from life advice to clothing and knickers, she is their mentor and role model. As an daughter of a divorced man who remarried a woman who kicked Raji out of the house at 4 years old for no apparent reason she has been raised in hostels her entire life. Her wisdom and experience from hard earned life lessons makes her such a great role model for the hostel girls. Before I left I told them all to take advantage of everything Raji's huge heart and wonderful soul has to offer them. I said don't be afraid to ask for help from any topic or necessity. People like Raji inspire me to continue what sometimes feels like an uphill battle. These great learning experiences full with bouts of success and misfortune keep my spirits high and my actions prepared for the unexpected.

The Irony of it all

2009-02-14T22:29:00.000-08:00

"Isn't it ironic... don't you think? A little too ironic, and I really do think. It's like rain on your wedding day, it's a free ride when you've already paid. It's the good advice that you just didn't take, who would have thought... it figures. It's a traffic jam, when you're already late. A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break, it's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife. It's meeting the man of your dreams and then meeting his beautiful wife. Isn't it Ironic..." ~ Alanis Morissette

As I sit here alone in Mathews' apartment scratching at least 25 mosquito bites and singing off key to the 90's femme rocker Alanis Morissette I can clearly identify how something thought to be a fault in one country can really be a blessing in another. Did I forget to mention thus far that I am grammatically challenged. I have a known history to make up words and substitute words that I think sound great with ones that really make sense. (If you haven't read the first blog, now would be a good time to reference it). It seems though, ironically, in India that I have become a grammar and spoken English expert. I have been teaching English classes to students in 4th standard through 12th standard and have been making up entertaining exercises for the students to practice basic conversation, especially in Tamil Medium schools. Even on occasion I have corrected an English teacher or two.
For years I have struggled to "sound smart" and I have fond memories of my mother laughing when I make up some new word, joking about how we should start using it instead. Or, on the other hand her forlorn and saddened face when I speak improperly. How have my random explosions of words in these blogs become so inspiring for so many people. I have a couple theories which I'm sure could instigate some intellectual discussion. When you have an extreme language barrier your choice words and multiple explanations of the same subject are extremely important to clarify any point. I have been in long discussions with broken English and Tamil fragments and I have needed to employ this speaking tactic often. Even if I make up a word here for some reason it is usually understood. Maybe that is because everyone is making up words or putting their accent on the wrong syllable. Other times I need to explain something for comprehensions sake. Maybe to a group of students that I am reading an English story to, maybe to a shop keeper to specify the type of pen I want. I not only need to depend on my words in these situations, but also my actions. I may twist my arm around a chair to demonstrate a vine, or have everyone pick up their backpacks in a 2nd standard class so they are sure what the item I am referring to is. These new actions and ways of expression are surely having some impact on my English skills or lack of. My new favorite Indian English word is fully. I have been noticing myself saying "In order for them to understand fully", which I would have never said before arriving in Chennai after that 5 hour delay on Dec 31, 2008. There are many phrases that Indian English uses as a standard that are incorrect, and I still try to correct people when they want my help for improvement in their English skills. Maybe this is the karmic experience that will make or break my future career. Remember the days when I wanted to be a fashion journalist! National Geographic if you're reading let's set up an interview. The new growth and understanding I have about religion and practice in India is developing into its own paradox. Maybe I'll keep away from the Karma that conversations and National Geographic television specials on Hindu religious history are schooling me on and just let my path take a more holistic approach in congruence with the Dalit herbal medicines that the Brahmins stole and proclaimed as Ayurveda. Did I mention that the Hindu religion is also a one of many reasons that caste system has extended such deep roots in India. I guess in the next week or two we'll see where my English skills lead me to next!
If you haven't joined my blog as a follower please do so asap it is important for a prospective scholarship. Vanakkam Makkal!

Say Yeah for Tamil Nadu

2009-02-02T03:48:00.000-08:00

I get to experience some great events daily while living in Tamil Nadu and even though there are many frustrations too I thought it would be nice to reflect on some of the minute moments that make me smile.

Waking up in the morning sweaty and hot and being given a small steel cup filled with the milky sweet goodness of Indian black tea is excellent. Sometimes spiced with ginger or cardamom this sweet, spicy, creamy mixture, piping hot with frothy bubbles, slips down my throat and tickles my tastebuds. Knowing the milk is fresh that morning and hoping all the impurities have been boiled away only makes it more eventful.

Going to a fruit vendor who only sells about 10 varieties of fruit and seeing the small plantains hanging from the ceiling, the pomegranetes stacked into pyramids and the papayas with the green peel hiding the brightly colored orange inside sprinkled with small jet black moist seeds that look like peppercorns and knowing that this tropical produce was taken from local trees makes me happy.

Sitting around on the floor eating a delicious dinner of rice and dal (lentil) sambar (vegetable sauce) and having a power cut, being left in total darkness and hearing the buses drive by and the rooster crowing and the goats bleeting, knowing you are surrounded by people who care for you like one of their own is nice in an unexpected way.

Driving on a motorcycle through a busy city with cows coming into the road and horns honking incessantly and then turning right and all of a sudden you are in a beautiful agricultural paradise. The paddy fields line up squarely with the ground nut fields and they are cornered by tall stalks of sugar cane. Mountains made of huge quasi circular boulders line the skyline along with palm and banyan trees silhouetted against the sun outlining their long majestic fronds and wavy drooping branches like the curly locks of my sisters hair. The only movements are the wind flashing against your skin as the bike avoids the potholes, speed bumps, and rocks of the road and the women in saree's with sharp machetes slicing clusters of the vibrant green paddy stalks and gathering them into clusters.

Walking alone is always an adventure, but one time returning in the evening and stopping at a sweet shop I stood under a awning and just oogled at the display. Orange squiggly sugar molded into balls looking like thick spaghetti, cinnamon and clove spiced cake with a dollop of chocolate frosting, a white gelatinous rectangle with chunks of green pistachio, a pink jelly roll covered with shredded coconut and filed with a swirl of white icing. Having the help of 3 or 4 men all sitting outside eating sweets and drinking tea to tell me the costs I paid 10 cents for a small piece of spice cake given to me by a boy of about 10 years old who promptly placed it on a square of newspaper and onto my palm.

Being able to wash your own dishes and put them away when you are staying at a families home and suprising the housewife only to hear her sweet giggling when her daughter explains what you did.

Taking a bath in a bucket and pouring the first cupful of tapwater over your head when your sticky skin has been hot and sweating for the past few days. The cold feeling runs down your back as you instinctively arch and tip your head back to quickly do it again. The water flushes the floor and peeks between your toes and under your arches only to collect around the drain deciding whether or not it wants to enter.

Having a risky tamil-english coversation with a stranger and waiting for the question of my marriage to arise. Seeing the shock, suprise, and questioning all covering her face when I say I am unmarried and visiting India alone.

Plastic Bag Culture Bite

2009-02-02T03:24:00.000-08:00

This blog is dedicated to my father who would rather use a plastic bag instead of a filing cabinet. He would rather use a plastic bag instead of a gym bag. He would rather use a plastic bag instead of a briefcase. He would rather use a plastic bag instead of a secure purse in a third world country holding his most precious wallet, hotel key, passport or writing instruments. So I am informing you that you would fit right in in India because the plastic bag is the only way to go.

I'm waiting for the bus with a small, green, sporty Diesel bag slung across my shoulder. I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt and some sandals (chappals in Tamil). The woman next to me is wearing a beautiful orange sari with orange flowers covering her body in pattern and she is holding a Sri Krishnan plastic bag. It is yellow with red and white lettering. It is holding her tools for the adventure she will be having today. The man next to her in western dress, some navy blue slacks and a man tailored shirt is clutching a white plastic back. His fist is clenched as he squeezes the plastic into a wrinkled form. He may be on his way to the bank to get money for the week, he maybe be going to work in Chennai, but as long as he has his plastic bag all of his merchandise will be safe by his side. I turn to my left away from the woman and there is a small hill sloping down away from us. There is a stream of trash and debris floating in the lull of the earth. The field behind us is growing paddy to be harvested and eaten as the basic food for all Indian people. Before the edge of the paddy field meets some trees and the stream there lies a slew of plastic bags. Clean bags, dirty bags, old bags, new bags, green bags, black bags, full bags, empty bags. All the bags line the street as many others do, that I have witnessed in placement like this. The bags of India. Slowly seeping into the earths' crust as does the water used to clean a shops floor dripping down the steps and into the spoiled aqueducts lining the streets. In the olden days, India used to be a completely organic culture. Eating off banana leaves, using coconut hairs to wash, and bartering goods for trade and progress were commonplace in everyday life. Now with materialism taking effect plastic is slowly polluting the entire country without a waste management system to organize this chaos. At least the locals know how to put a plastic bag too good use. Whether they are transporting sandy wet clothes from the beach or sorting and grinding some mint leaves and spinach, the plastic bag will be their accomplice. I hope there is a clean future for India in some of the countries leaders minds, but with all of the disease, poverty, capitalism and corruption to take up their brain space I think the pollution level will move from the Orange warning to the Red threat and the perpetual cough that many Indians suffer from will shorten their lifespan while inorganic western corruption also pollutes their minds and bodies. If this dust storm in Tamil Nadu ceases to inflict its terror on the people the caste system won't be the only thing currently on the Dalits minds.

No school Saturday!

2009-01-31T00:52:00.000-08:00

I just ended a week long stay at St. Joseph's primary school in Porour. Ranging from LKG, which is pre-k to 4th std (4th grade) it is English medium with Tamil and Hindi classes. Working on sculpting some tri-lingual students quite impressively. I stayed in a basic room with two beds and a proper mosquito net. Phil and Nancy had stayed their previously with the shelves bare except for a few English romance novels and some hangers. Every night after finishing dinner at 9p.m. I would escape the mosquitoes (kosu in Tamil) and take to writing in my journal and resting on some wild sky blue sheets with clouds, bubbles, mechanical parts, and random shapes scattered over them. I must say the variety of textiles is pleasing my art influenced eyes. I would give English lessons during the day to the 4th std students and take Tamil class with the 3rd std ones. The 1st std and UKG (kindergarten) students would race to touch my had, step on my feet, or introduce themselves to me. I would watch their drawing lessons showing them some fashion figures and a white daisy I sketched on the blackboard. They drew a tropical fish. One morning a student asked me to draw a bunny, and after 10 minutes there were 25 bunnies of various shape and size littering the chalkboard. I was impressed with the artistic efforts of the school also inclusive of a computer class where they are learning Paint, PowerPoint, and Word programs. It was a week full of questions and learning, my private school knowledge has definitely increased and resulted in a Q&A I've submitted to Phil. I'll be working on applying for a scholarship from Bill & Melinda, if they are so kind and visiting St. Mary's in Chenglepattu today. Having some adventures with Hindu God statues tomorrow all in preparation for another school visit.
It is getting much warmer as I noticed the sweat dripping down my stomach when we played in the courtyard at the school. It became visible through my white t-shirt, an artful one, given to me by the fantastic photographer Casey Sperry (when she used to be a Kelly). It has some black geometric graphics printed on it. With my Mavi jeans and Diesel sneakers I look as American as they come. As I wait for the bus under the shade of a banyan tree and monkeys rustle leaves and look for some food to swipe all the action that surrounds me encompasses me in India. Trucks of rice with Hindu drawings go for delivery, a fish seller moves half of her merchandise out of the sun on it's burlap sack, a group of 5 squeeze into an already full rickshaw, a woman walks with a plastic bag of carrots to her home down the road, a motorcycle zips by to fill up a gas can and some stray dogs pick through leaves and trash trying to nourish themselves while viciously gnawing at their already tormented skin which is scabbed and bleeding, the hairs barely covering their backside. I get on the private bus and I am whisked away by the Indian pop music and the purple printed interior. Everyone looks at me in this moment and slowly their eyes are distracted again by the women bent in half in the paddy fields, or a close call with a taxi or bike passing in the other direction. Back to Chengelpattu to repack my travel bag and meander along the road to another school or another adventure.

reply to Grandma Pinky: Jewish Pioneer

2009-01-25T03:46:00.000-08:00

The pollution level everyday here is at the Warning (Orange) level, my teeth are chewing foreign leaves, meats and spices, so I'm sure once my body realizes this intake is better than that of the past 25 years it will adjust pleasurably. Yea, so I'd rather be feeling better sooner than later but if a week or some more of this crazy excrement adventure continues it will be off to the Ayurvedic doctor to give me some natural stomach calming herbs and treatments, and while I'm there maybe a nice massage too. I've been trying to convince Mathew (LF India President) to also get one, since I think it would be great for his mind racing and busy schedule to relax holistically. I've mastered the art of preparing tea on the gas stove. They have a black tea powder that I'm quite fond of and I've noticed it is good for calming my stomach's cyclone. Regardless, tomorrow I will be off to have a long stay at one of the local leaders school's. I'm currently reading his book about Dalit struggles, and he is a priest, so that puts a whole new religious perspective on things. The Christian Dalit movements have a strength that our non denominational ngo can only look at with awe. I've met a few leaders involved in the Dalit Christian Liberation Movement and the National Council of Dalit Christians, but still in my early research I see a great advantage of inclusion of all faiths. The idea to empower all Dalits in the current stage of the movement is quite separated on the basis of religion and sub castes still, so having no religious bias is really a role model for everyone else, we just need some growth and financial support to see LF into a happy sustainable future. At least after this first frustrating month I still believe my being here is a good thing!

2009-01-23T05:48:00.000-08:00

(left: kolam art in Krishnankuppum)
(below: tea toast at ODP college students/graduates
conference)

(above: michael collins, sithanaiselvan's father, me, background AMBEDKAR!)

(left: church of the baptism of Ligoria's daughter Mancy Magana)

(below: old bus station crowd in Villapuram)

response to Casey Sperry e-mail

2009-01-22T05:51:00.000-08:00

It seems like another lifetime when we were sharing weekends at your cozy apt on front street. This is like a maiden voyage for me. First off in working hand on for a NGO and secondly to be in India trying to accomplish something great and pave the future for Lead Forward. I'm trying to learn how the system functions here in India, from everything to getting a check to a student to pay for their hostel to how the teachers are training students at all levels and how a day in the life of a Dalit student really is. Fun is something Indian culture lacks, in terms of spending money in your free time to have a day at the mall, go to a water park, or whatever else. When I ask our students what they do for fun or what their hobbies, they usually go hand in hand with their studies or they avoid the question by responding about something else. Sometimes frustrating, but it shows how different lifestyle is. I'm planning some visit to a few schools where are students are attendees and that will be interspersed with meetings and lectures on Dalit issues and organization for Lead Forward. Tomorrow we have a preparatory board meeting to discuss a list of details about helping to keep this organization functioning and helping create sustainability for its future if the US were no longer able to support financially. There are no concrete responsibilities though, but when I am well I am like an India investigator probing about life, culture, religion, politics etc, until i wear myself out. My diary is becoming pretty full as well, with some wild excursions that are mostly generalized on the blog. Keep on keepin' on! I'm on the lookout for Jews and Art besides political graffiti.... should keep me busy. A rich culture that you could take a lifetime to learn about, I'm enjoying!

Happy Pongol

2009-01-21T08:51:00.000-08:00

A list of symptoms

2009-01-21T06:07:00.001-08:00

So I've been pretty sick this past week. I began my ritual of symptoms with some exciting constipation. I took some pepto bismol tablets, then since that didn't work I went to a catholic nunnery hospital where three sisters lived. One of the sisters was a doctor, or something like that, and she gave me a delicious milk of magnesia mixture with great new MINT FLAVOR! It's delicious I assure you. Also on my list of remedies were papaya and plantains. So at the nunnery the doctor/sister climbed onto the roof and with the swing of a long stick she detached two large papayas from their resting place and caught them. Mind you she was about 90lbs, 5'1" and wearing a dress. I took these and some Indian tea to help get the motion back in my expulsion. This adventure was not had alone I was accompanied with a priest Fr. Arocki Doss from Alagapasamuthiram the village I had been staying at for a couple days previously, trying to get the feel for village life talk with some of our students who were there for the Pongol holiday and learn about Pongol too. Post constipation I went on a 3 hour motorbike ride with Fr. Arocki Doss to a village called Periayanayakiammal, close to our great leader Mathews' village in Eraiyur. I didn't know this until returning to Chenglepett with new stomach symptoms. So we took a beautiful bumpy ride through the paddy fields, past rural villages, alongside the red and white government buses until finally arriving at a home of Fr.'s family friends. It was a small shanty, thatched roof, green cement walls, a modest government issued TV and some calendars. This was a Muslim area, so my vannakkam turned into salum alaikum and then in the Hindu areas namaste. How am I going to be able to keep track of these changes as we scoot along the roadways? So we gather Helen (a student Fr. sponsors to go to Computer college) and head further to Periayanayakiammal. On the way we get a liter of water that I desperately need and some batteries that work for about 5 photos. Batteries in developing Asian countries don't ever work, bring stock of whatever you need and always have your spares. We arrive at the church, our destination for a huge mass and bazaar with about 5,000 people or so. Helen and I buy extravagant jewels and hair ties for about $2 until we go to take some photos. I am feeling the effects of dehydration at this point, no matter how much bottled water I drink it doesn't seem to be enough and after getting a personal entrance to the otherwise closed church the symptoms intensify. I am dizzy, struggling to walk, and nauseous. I miraculously reach Fr. Arocki Doss to ask him to lay down for a moment, but that moment turns into a nice sit on a western style toilet, thanks goodness for not having to squat at that moment. I stumbled back to him and then after taking a few more sips of water I'm back on the pot. Now with a super headache where my head feels detached at my spinal cord with my brain floating around like a balloon, someone I have to return the 3 hours on motorbike to my rat poop infested quarters in the church of Miracles. I manage to convince myself I'm good enough to get on the bike, but the next three hours seemed like an eternity, with stops for petrol, tea, juice, club soda, and water the instant remedies for recovery were completely useless. I just pictured myself in a horizontal position asleep and somehow with my head covered in a sheer white shawl, eyes closed, gripping to the bike I made it and was in another world once my feet were off the floor. Needless to say I was quite sick for the next few days, including today. I've started a hydrochloride treatment thanks to a walmart purchase, but if it doesn't help, then onto the natural herbal remedies Indian medicine has to offer. So, Chengelpett for the next few days for as much R&R and I can bear even if it isn't voluntary.

Top 10 things to know about Tamil Nadu

2009-01-21T06:01:00.001-08:00

1. Drink 7 liters of water a day
2. Always drive with your highbeams on
3. Don't eat fried street food because they reuse their oil up to 10 times
4. Always have a shawl handy
5. You can never have too many calendars
6. You can never have too many flowers in your hair
7. Pee anywhere you want (poo too!)
8. A guide book can't save you now!
9. Hotmail, Yahoo, Gmail, and VISA don't really work in India, charge with caution
10. You're lucky if your bed is a mat with a pillow
11. Have bobby pins and safety pins available at all times
12. Burp, fart, spit, belch, or cough as much as possible especially when you are in public.

Roundabout Lifestyle

2009-01-09T05:48:00.001-08:00

India, the country of endless time. Trying to get any work, commuting, or preparations done in a timely fashion is completely impossible. Random power outages, cyclones, motorcycle and car breakdowns are just a few of my experiences so far. I am understanding how difficult it is to get anything accomplished. Writing a document, you are distracted by your entire family watching Indian music videos, singing and dancing in the same room (having four generations of family in one room hanging out before dinner is something Americans need to take advice from India on). Arriving on time for a meeting like ODP, our last workshop with the LF India Board, college students, and graduates, the brake line in Mathews car was having trouble, so we had to stop by Pondicherry in a small village to have some work done. Traveling by bus is rather exciting though. The women, beautiful in a rainbow of saris, the children crying, playing, sleeping, then men staring with a questioning eye all jump on and off the bus while it is in constant motion. The people are pushing and squishing to find a standing spot during rush hours (which is all the time!) The bus conductor, with his sturdy purse, sells tickets for around 20 cents. The driver uses 3 foot long shift stick to grind the gears and careen along. I have been living on $5.82 a day. Anita, a Lead Forward student, took me on my first bus ride. At first it was so loud we couldn't talk. My head turned toward the window watching the greenery and mud huts pass us by, and while I was intensely curious about the landscape, everyone else just looked at me. As Phil, the president of LF US, said the last white face I would see was at the Chennai airport upon my arrival, and her name was Sugar.

Wednesday?

2009-01-02T05:34:00.000-08:00

I'm almost sure it's New Year's Eve, but after flying for about 15 hours clearly I could be confused. I've crossed five time zones. The center of the Abu Dhabi airport is like a mosaic explosion and I am melting down the sides on a lime green and cerulean blue magma slide. The delayed remark flashes repeatedly on the departure board as I have been noticing life in the lux airport for the past hour and fifteen minutes. Afraid to go to the bathroom for fear of missing my flight, I only hope I don't inconvenience Mathew.

15 days and counting

2008-12-15T15:31:00.000-08:00

I have laid my father's vintage backpack on my mottled blue carpet surrounded by piles of clothing, shampoo, batteries and my passport. In fifteen days I be departing from JFK international airport to arrive 29 hours later in Chennai, India. The purpose of this blog is for everyone related to Lead Forward! or not related to be able to experience Tamil Nadu with me. I hope to share my adventures on Indian buses, pleasures of working with bright driven students, cultural nuances, and much more. I'm sure communication will be scarce and my facilities will surely be different in village life, but since the success of Lead Forward is to be decided I am going to do everything I can to help the path to and Empowerment Center be a direct and possible one. I look forward to everyone's comments and the possible network this blog will hopefully create to give Lead Forward a bright future. Please be wary of grammatical errors and probable incorrect usage of various English words, I'll just say it's part of my flair!
Interested parties reference: www.leadforwardinc.org