Blog 002 - Some Observations After My First Week

Day 8, Monday, March 10

My first encounter with Police Headquarters to get registered due to being here over 180 days, starts today. Ajay takes control, I think partly because of his taking us to a 3 hour seminar in Hindi. He tells me to stay put as he begins to “schmooze” one official after another. A bit later he says we can leave and he will take care of everything this afternoon and I won't have to be there. Now that's some smooth moves on his part.

After lunch, head over to the community center at the Tekro. The Tekro is the slum directly across the street from Manav Sadhna. Well actually, not “exactly” across the street. You cross the main road and walk down a path that proceeds to get more narrow the further you walk. Meeting and greeting residents along the path; everyone wants to shake your hand and ask your name.

 

Ok, where was I before I got side-tracked. Oh yes, walking to the Tekro. The path leads to a field. The path continues, but divides. Usually, either way will get you across the field and eventually across a stream. Today however, the stream was high and flowing good. The field we entered had become a swamp. One step and my whole foot was submerged in the gunk. I say gunk – obviously this includes wet mud. But trust me, it was more than mud. The stench in this area is pretty unnerving on a good day, let alone when the water is flowing. Worse yet, we can't cross the stream in this area now, so we backtrack and one of the kids on the other side is pointing us to a crossing a bit further up. So managing our way through brambles with thorns the size of biblical proportions, we finally make it to the crossover but not before I get a thorn right through my sandal and just barely missing the penetration of my foot. But I survive. This is the first time Cedric and I have attempted to reach the Community Center on our own. All you have to do is ask one of the many kids and they will either point you in a direction, or most likely lead you there.

 

 

We had been told they needed help in the library, but upon getting there, no one was aware that we were coming. By this time, that isn't really unexpected. This is, after all, India. As we sat around and watched the kids a while, one of the art teachers came over and asked if we wanted to help. Cedric is an artist, and I can draw a pretty good crooked stick man, so we had no hesitation in agreeing to this invite. Cedric began going into artistic detail with the instructor, and the little kids were seated cross-legged on the floor waiting to do something. I just picked up a piece of chalk and began drawing a stick man on the board, then a 3 dimension box, a circle, etc. In a little bit, Cedric began drawing a face based on a point system for the eyes, nose, etc. After watching this a bit, I just began my own face as the kids started coming up to the board and drawing their own bits. Each kid was doing their own thing on paper, some obviously more talented than others, but each giving their best effort. That's all you can ask for. One of the kids liked my face drawing so much, he drew a smaller version on his paper and was so eager for me to see it. Trust me, most of these kids are way past my stick figures.

 

 I have enough trouble bending down to pick something up off the floor, no less sitting on the floor. Okay I'm on the floor now and now I'm supposed to sit cross legged? Let me try. Okay, now attempt to get my knees spread out Indian style. Ouch, the muscles are pulling good now. This is going to take some time; most likely a little over six months. Indian people sit like this all the time, since they were little children. I am tall in stature compared to most Indians. Someone is always offering me a chair, but I refuse to let this beat me. I always give it my best and some days are far better than others. I take a Tylenol when I first get up, then later when I go to bed to relax my muscles. That's the key to sitting like this – relaxing the muscles. And then later, I have to get untwisted and stand up. As long as someone doesn't yell fire, another twenty minutes and I'll be fine. Note to future self, in my next incarnation, take yoga classes when I'm young.

I bought new hiking boots several months before my trip. On a whim I bought a pair of sandals just a few days before leaving. First day at Manav Sadhna I discovered the boots would stay in the house; bare feet and sandals are a way of life here. It's really a convenience; here you take your shoes off to go inside just about everywhere. Not just temples, anywhere inside. Going into the facilities at Manav Sadhna, Out at the Naroda School, into shops in the old city. It is intended to deep most dirt and dust out. To me, that theory is severely flawed. Walking barefoot in sandals collects a lot of dirt and dust under your feet as well as between your toes. Actually, the soles of your feet become harder over time; you get little cuts on your toes sand and small pebbles collect between them; when you accidentally step into who knows what in the swamp; or even just a strategically placed cow pie in the daily treks. I am not a sandal wearer by nature, but this is India, and I'm adapting quite well.

The idea of sweeping in India is almost inbred. Dirt and dust is a constant issue, so sweeping your personal spaces is an ongoing thing to do. Our western concept is to take a long handled broom to sweep and perhaps a wet mop or some other device to follow. The Indian method is to squat down with a short handled “broom” with reeds attacked and swish it around in way that I see only stirs more dust up. This is an ancient Indian way, and of course, it works quite well for them. On a side note, they only clean “their” area and they sweep it out of their door and onto the road. Nothing is picked up, it just works its way on down the road. In my own deranged thought process, if a woman swept her area up in Kolkata in east India, it would wind up a few weeks later in Ahmedabad in west India.

Everyone wants to know your name, and not just the kids. “What is your name” is a phrase you become used to in India. In countries you are used to, this introduction would lead to further conversation. In India, outside of the big cities, this IS the conversation.

Anyway, I was walking with Cedric, an American 18 year old, born in California, but who was raised and educated in Paris since the age of 5. If this guy didn't have an American accent, he would be the typical French teenager. Opinionated and brash, he is obviously extremely intelligent. Cedric could talk for hours, either with you or to a wall. He is passionate about every subject you could think of. More about Cedric later.

After our class, we hung around in the courtyard, “talking” to some of the kids awhile before heading back to Manav Sadhna. This trip was more successful, almost finding our way back on our own. No encounter with the swamp and briar patch this time.