I loved India. I loved going, I loved living there, I loved living the culture, and meeting the people, and I will never regret my decision to go there. But I didn’t love everything about my experience there. Although everything I did and saw was eye-opening, there are things that I cannot be glad to have seen. Everything was not fun and exciting. There are times when my sheltered American self was absolutely shocked by the things I witnessed. There were times when my entire understanding of humanity was put into question. Some of the things I saw were awful. God’s children should not experience some of the things I witnessed. I have tried to write them down, but have not yet been able to describe the horror I felt.
But these things didn’t define my experience with India. They stand out in my mind because they are the exception. It is the little, everyday things…the things I wouldn’t usually bother to write about that really define my experience with India.
So! I will here attempt to share some of he things that DID define my stay…some things that ARE my experience with India. To me, India is so many things, I could list them forever, but let me begin with these few:
India is waking up in the morning to the rooster and trumpeter next door (who both seem to find it necessary to warm up their windpipes before the sun rises)
India is coming home and trying desperately (but failing) to avoid distracting the children scattered across the veranda as they study with Jeeva.
India is idli in the morning, thali in the afternoon, and dolsa at night, and sambar always.
India is wondering whether there are really elephants living in elephant mountain.
India is eternal stench.
India is groaning every night at 9, and every morning at 10 when the power goes out.
India is elbowing your way through the grouchy old ladies on the bus (who elbow much harder than you’ll ever be able)
India is uno on the veranda (with the ever-competitive Appa!).
India is cold bucket showers in the morning.
Hot. Sticky.
India is learning that lines mean nothing. You much learn to be aggressive!
India is learning that in Tamil, beehive is “Teiencurdu” (and India is learning how to properly pronounce it).
India is a part of my life that will always be a part of my life. It was not a simple experience or story that can be easily retold. It became a part of who I am. It melded into my life. It was entwined with the rest of my sum experiences. I am what I learned in India, and India, to me, is what I learned and who I became (and so much more).
Sunday, May 24, 2009
My Reason for Going...
INTRODUCTION
The purpose of this study is to show that Indian youth recognize the importance of education, and the significance of education in levels of independence.
Decades ago the social sciences made a strong push for education reform in India. In the years since, India has made educational advances a goal, and the area has been largely ignored in the literature. Additionally, the available research focuses mainly on the country as a whole. The literature pool was in desperate need of qualitative research exploring individual experiences with and opinions on education. The country has recently reopened as an area of interest to social scientists, and the past two years have provided a new scholarly look at the country. My study not only provides a much-needed qualitative look, but also works with other research to provide a newer, fresher look at the role of education within the country.
The Indian youth see education as a means for independence and an appreciation for and value of independence. But how do they define independence (versus dependence)? What creates this independence? Is it good? Does it matter? What are the consequences? How does it affect the lives of the Indian youth?
BACKGROUND
Women in India are now beginning to educate themselves for the purpose of being more marketable for marriage (Kamat, 1976), as well as to prepare to be better wives and mothers.
A study in the mid-twentieth century summarized and explained by Nirmala, Cheng and Narain (2003) suggested a negative correlation between women’s education and the rate of infant mortality. A five-year schooling policy was implemented, requiring females to attain a minimum of five years of education. The goal was basic literacy and mathematic skills. This caused problems originally, because a poor female’s chances of marriage were hurt by education (the price of education takes away from money allotted to a dowry, and a more educated girl is expected to marry a more educated man, which union requires a larger dowry).
In Joshi, Gadgil, and Patil in their 1996 article Correlates of the Desired Family Size among Indian Communities the authors reiterate over and over that the father of the household pays for all expenses, including those related to the education of all within the home.
The government of India has made many constitutional provisions for various developmental programs. But results are still unsatisfactory.
India’s government takes an active role in encouraging education, particularly among the oppressed (scheduled castes and females). Article 45 of the national constitution offers free and compulsory education for all children through the age of fourteen. Article 46 focuses in more specifically on scheduled tribes and castes. Despite these changes, the drop-out rates, education attainment, and literacy rates are still most problematic among the tribal females. Loopholes continue to be found, and education is still withheld from many.
Regions largely influenced by Christian missionaries (Christian regions) show the most progress. They show the most progress in education, economy and health (Duary and Nabakumar, 2006).
The younger generation of tribal females is proving more literate than older females. Those in the teens and early twenties have much higher literacy rates than women in their forties and older. This progress has been attributed to interactions with non-tribal people and cultures (Rahman and Ansari, 2007).
Government and social sciences alike have discovered the great good that comes from, not just higher education, but most especially higher education for females. Of poverty, exploitation, low esteem, poor health, high mortality rates, and early marriage, only the level of the mother’s education has been shown to combat all these negative social conditions at once. Although the father’s education remains the primary factor in income, the mother’s education has more potential for over-all good. So much is the significance of a mother’s education, one state in India (Gujarat) has provided free education at all levels to females (Rani, 2007).
Additionally, one of the major factors in whether an Indian attends college is parental education. The level of education attained by the parents has even more sway than large monetary incentives. The level of the mother’s education is particularly significant (Mukheriee, 2008).
According to Devi and Uma in their article, Relationship Between Parental Perception about Family Environment and Adolescent’s Emotional Intelligence, “The personality of the child depends on parental love and affection and child rearing practices and interaction with them.” Developing autonomy in a warm relationship builds, among other things, higher academic achievement, higher self-esteem and better role-taking skills, as well as a greater tendency toward taking responsibility for decisions. The article defines “independence” as “…the extent to which family members are assertive and independently make their own decisions.” Once again, the mother’s role was particularly important in the development of these youth. The warmth, love, and attitudes of the mother significantly and positively correlate with higher emotional intelligence.
Southern Indian elites had good relations with British rule. At the same time as the rush of incoming British culture, Indian innovations, inventions, and aesthetic experimentations (also considered modern, but native to India) emerged. These became of lesser value with emergence of photography and British histories and literature. Soon, the appreciators of modern Indian culture came to be known as “Tamil devotees,” “eccentric,” and “off-modern,” which terms inferred “ostensibly modern, but not wholly in it or even of it.” Therefore, those things of international origin became the modern, while those emerging from the native culture were simply eccentric (Nair and Janaki, 2006).
METHODS
Upon arriving in India, I spent much time familiarizing myself with the area and attempting to get acquainted with the youth, from which population I would later draw my sample. I attended church, and introduced myself to the young adults there. I later came to perform many informal interviews and one long semi-formal interview with one such young adult whom I will refer to as Kumar.
I also visited an all-girls college campus on multiple occasions, and there met two college girls (we will call them Sathiya and Priya) with whom I conducted two semi-formal interviews.
The information drawn from these three participants makes up the majority of the data found in this research.
I took notes either during or shortly after each interview (whether informal or semi-formal). After conducting the semi-formal interviews, which were recorded, I returned home and transcribed the interviews.
During each interview, and throughout my experience with the young Indians, I made a great effort to bracket my experiences with and expectations of education. I worked to get at their definitions and meanings. It was my goal to discover a little more about how they saw life, education, independence and the like. I began the interviews with very general questions, such as the structure of their school-day, or their topic of study, and generally allowed them to direct the interview, while I guided them through follow-up questions on topics relevant to my research (such as “You say your parents chose your UG study. What did they choose?” or, when the girls said that India was changing, I asked what they thought was the greatest change). In this way, I hope that the themes which have emerged will be more representative of their thoughts, ideals, and beliefs than of my own.
DATA
It did not take long after I began interviews before an obvious theme of dependence and independence emerged. It was clear from very early on that all of the young adults with whom I spoke saw these (independence and dependence) as somehow related to education. As I looked further into this theme, I realized that these individuals saw education as a direct influence on levels of independence. (It is important here to mention that not all the education to which they refer is formal.)
Said my one male participant (let’s call him Kumar), “I will learn to make decisions. I will learn from the things that I did so that I can just make decisions from the first day of my married life.” Here Kumar expresses his desire to learn from life and experience. He felt that his family sheltered him and that he was incapable of learning important lessons on how to become independent. This same participant obviously already had a taste for independence, although he was just beginning his formal education. I wondered how this somewhat (culturally) rebellious spirit emerged. He made it clear to me that his desires were not normal. When I asked him how he became different, he said “Before I was baptized into the church…till twelfth grade, I was happy. I wasn’t worried, I didn’t care, I was so happy. After completing twelfth grade, I joined the church. At that time, these problems came, at that time I learned about agency, and I learned about the plan of salvation, I learned about all these things. So all these things guided my life and how I should be.” Although he denies that it was religion that inspired him to desire more independence, over and over in our interviews he seemed to be saying, in not so many words, that the church did teach him values that led to his desire for independence. Again citing a source for his desire for independence, he mentioned the Scarlet Pimpernel. “One character really impressed me when I was in my seventh grade, the Scarlet Pimpernel. He is very rebellious. So I was just impressed with that guy, and how I need to stand…I move by myself. I should not be moved by any other person.” Although Kumar said that he didn’t particularly think much about the scarlet pimpernel at the time he read the book, later in life, he drew from his memory of the book when realizing that he yearned for more independence.
Although Kumar provided helpful insights, it was during one of my interviews with the girls, Murki and Gingly, that I finally understood the concept. We discussed the benefits of education, and they told me this:
Gingly: Education tells us what it’s like. We can meet very different people when we get an education. We can meet different people and different ways of life. But when we are not educated, we do not know what’s happening in the world. We are surrounded by four walls, that is all. So there is the difference.
Me: So when you’re educated, you see different ways of life, and you can think “Oh, that way is better.”
Murki: We can get an idea.
Gingly: If the parents are not educated, only they will do according to their parents.
Murki: Tradition
And suddenly it all made sense! This new generation sees the value in learning new things and new ways of life so they have something to compare to their own way. They want to see other version of reality in order to choose what they think is best. Often-times that comes through formal education, but from Gingly’s statement, we realize that even formal education is often simply another avenue for informal learning. She specifically points out that while getting an education we meet people, and can learn from them.
At this point, it’s important to define independence as it is being used by the participants. Their culture is vastly different from the culture of BYU, of America, and of much of the Western world in general, and we therefore tend to think in terms that do not directly translate. When I introduce my research to people here, they often automatically make the assumption that when I say they are striving toward independence, I am referring to financial independence. Although this would be a perfectly acceptable assumption to make if I were referring to females attaining an education in America, the youth in India have different goals in mind. At one point in my conversation with Murki and Gingly, I had been confused about something that had been said. I told them my understanding and asked for clarification. They said that I had reached my conclusions because I was independent, but in India they are dependent. This was toward the beginning of my research, as I was only beginning to notice the dependence/independence theme, and I asked them to please clarify. After generalizing India as being dependent and America as independent, they then defined the two for me in this way:
In India, from childhood, your parents take care of you. As a little child, they always make all your decisions. They make decisions about your school, all the way through college, when you finish college, and until you get married. Then when you are married, your husband and his parents make choices for you. They have always taken care of you, so you defer to them. They love you and they will make good choices for you. They are responsible for you. Then you have children of your own, and you make their choices, and your parents are still over you…it’s very involved. Sometimes they let you make choices, but you always have to go to them, and they always have to agree with your choices. You are obligated to have their permission.
In America, you make choices without your parents’ knowledge.
So dependence and independence are really about decision-making and involvement.
So now we know that independence, as used by the participants, means that ability to make one’s own decisions, and we know that they see it as an outcome of education and learning of all kinds. But is this good? Is it all right for these people to be independent? From their definition, it sounds like independence is a cultural form of respect. How, then, is education affecting this? Should they be striving toward independence?
Kumar, Murki, and Gingly think so. During one interview with the girls, I was asking about their society, and they mentioned that it was changing. I thought this was interesting and asked what they thought was the greatest change. They replied that education was the greatest change! I asked if the changing society was a good thing. They said that when the change is better than tradition, it’s good, and they will accept it, but when it is just different, they prefer the traditional way. They then used the examples of education and clothing. Education for females is a new idea, but it is good, so they like it. Changing clothing styles is not any better than tradition, it is only different, so they prefer their traditional dress. At one time, I asked directly if becoming educated was ok.
Murki: Yeah, it is good. We will not be dependent on husband. Like you, you will not depend on your husband. We can stand on our own two legs.
Me: Is that ok? Because you’re supposed to be dependent
Murki: It will be ok, because there will be a mutual understanding between husband and wife.
…and later in the conversation:
Gingly: If we are educated, it will show that we have some maturity.
Murki: We will have a mutual understanding also. Our husband will understand us better.
In an interview with Kumar, he told me that he had just started working. As a college student, this is very unusual, because students are expected to be entirely financially independent on their parents. I asked if this (independent act) was good. He replied:
Yes, it’s better for learning. It’s better for making your independent choices. My mom doesn’t want me in the job. She told me she will pay for everything, but if she tells me, then I will be under her control… I need to be independent. So if I had been an independent kid, I would be in my second year of paleontology right now. But because I was dependent, I’m not in my paleontology. I’m in historical studies, first year, and I need to complete my BS, then I can enter into paleontology.
But what specific consequences come from being independent and making your own decisions without the help of parents, parents-in-law, or husbands? From my interviews, it is apparent that by far the most concern is with the ability to become good mothers and fathers, wives and husbands. Much of the desire for independence comes from the desire to have a good family life. Kumar said plain and simply “If I take decisions from now, I will be better husband and father.” Again, when I was asking Murki and Gingly whether independence was a good thing, they replied that it was good because “there will be a mutual understanding between husband and wife.”
Gingly: If we are educated, it will show that we have some maturity.
Murki: We will have a mutual understanding also. Our husband will understand us better.
These girls want to be on, at least more equal grounds with their husbands. They do not want to seem incompetent and therefore rely upon their husbands. They want their husbands to know that they are educated and can make decisions. And they expect that through education they will better understand their husbands. They want a more equal partnership. And this is good.
But it is not only relationships with husbands that concern these girls. They also expect to be better mothers because of education. Remember that the girls have already told us that parenting, if not changed by education, relies on tradition, but that through education, parents can discover new ways of upbringing. At one point, I asked the girls about different family relationships that they currently had, and then asked what relationship they wanted to have with their future daughters (in the context of education).
Murki: I wish for my child to study more, more, and more. I want her to get a good job, a good marriage. She should be free.
Gingly: Independent.
Murki: With her, I will be a friend. I will talk with them as a friend. We’ll give advice, we’ll lead…
Gingly: There are some parents like this because they are educated. Educated parents are like that.
CONCLUSION
Education, though not particularly formal education, brings independence. The government and the social sciences have recognized it for decades, and now the youth in India are recognizing it. Kumar learned from the church, he learned from literature. He saw other ways of life that he thought were better, and chose those. Murki and Gingly recognize the worth of learning other points of view. It is not always schooling which increases independence. It is learning. It is education. Through education, through learning, these individuals expect to be able to make decisions. They expect to be better fathers and mothers, husbands and wives. Independence is seen as good, and so they seek after it.
REFERENCES
Devi and Uma (2006). Relationship Between Parental Perception about family Environment and Adolescent’s Emotional Intelligence. Man in India. 86 (1-2) 155-162.
Duary and Nabakumar(2006). Gender Disability in the Education of Tribal Female in India. Man in India. 8 (3-4) 325-341.
Joshi, N.V., Gadgil, M., Patil, S. (1996). Correlates of the Desired Family Size among Indian Communities. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of ISA. 93(13)6387-6392.
Kamat, A.R. (1976). Women’s Education and Social Change in India. Social Scientist. 5(1) 3-27.
Mukheriee (2008). Role of Parental Education in Schooling and Child Labour Decisions: urban India in the last decade. Social Indicators Research. 89(2)305-322.
Nair and Janaki (2006). Beyond exceptionalism: South Indian and the modern historical imagination. The Indian Economic and Social History Review. 43(3)323-347.
Nirmala, R., Cheng, K.M., Narain, K. (2003). Primary Schooling in China and India: Understanding How Socio-Contextual Factors Moderate the Role of the State. International Review of Education. 49(1/2) 153-176.
Rahman and Ansari (2007). Changing Trend in Tharu Tribe of Uttar Pradesh: a socio-economic and demographic picture. Man in India. 87 (3-4) 389-398.
Rani (2007). Girl’s Secondary Schooling Participation in India: barriesrs vs. state initiatives. Man in India. 87 (3-4)335-354.
The purpose of this study is to show that Indian youth recognize the importance of education, and the significance of education in levels of independence.
Decades ago the social sciences made a strong push for education reform in India. In the years since, India has made educational advances a goal, and the area has been largely ignored in the literature. Additionally, the available research focuses mainly on the country as a whole. The literature pool was in desperate need of qualitative research exploring individual experiences with and opinions on education. The country has recently reopened as an area of interest to social scientists, and the past two years have provided a new scholarly look at the country. My study not only provides a much-needed qualitative look, but also works with other research to provide a newer, fresher look at the role of education within the country.
The Indian youth see education as a means for independence and an appreciation for and value of independence. But how do they define independence (versus dependence)? What creates this independence? Is it good? Does it matter? What are the consequences? How does it affect the lives of the Indian youth?
BACKGROUND
Women in India are now beginning to educate themselves for the purpose of being more marketable for marriage (Kamat, 1976), as well as to prepare to be better wives and mothers.
A study in the mid-twentieth century summarized and explained by Nirmala, Cheng and Narain (2003) suggested a negative correlation between women’s education and the rate of infant mortality. A five-year schooling policy was implemented, requiring females to attain a minimum of five years of education. The goal was basic literacy and mathematic skills. This caused problems originally, because a poor female’s chances of marriage were hurt by education (the price of education takes away from money allotted to a dowry, and a more educated girl is expected to marry a more educated man, which union requires a larger dowry).
In Joshi, Gadgil, and Patil in their 1996 article Correlates of the Desired Family Size among Indian Communities the authors reiterate over and over that the father of the household pays for all expenses, including those related to the education of all within the home.
The government of India has made many constitutional provisions for various developmental programs. But results are still unsatisfactory.
India’s government takes an active role in encouraging education, particularly among the oppressed (scheduled castes and females). Article 45 of the national constitution offers free and compulsory education for all children through the age of fourteen. Article 46 focuses in more specifically on scheduled tribes and castes. Despite these changes, the drop-out rates, education attainment, and literacy rates are still most problematic among the tribal females. Loopholes continue to be found, and education is still withheld from many.
Regions largely influenced by Christian missionaries (Christian regions) show the most progress. They show the most progress in education, economy and health (Duary and Nabakumar, 2006).
The younger generation of tribal females is proving more literate than older females. Those in the teens and early twenties have much higher literacy rates than women in their forties and older. This progress has been attributed to interactions with non-tribal people and cultures (Rahman and Ansari, 2007).
Government and social sciences alike have discovered the great good that comes from, not just higher education, but most especially higher education for females. Of poverty, exploitation, low esteem, poor health, high mortality rates, and early marriage, only the level of the mother’s education has been shown to combat all these negative social conditions at once. Although the father’s education remains the primary factor in income, the mother’s education has more potential for over-all good. So much is the significance of a mother’s education, one state in India (Gujarat) has provided free education at all levels to females (Rani, 2007).
Additionally, one of the major factors in whether an Indian attends college is parental education. The level of education attained by the parents has even more sway than large monetary incentives. The level of the mother’s education is particularly significant (Mukheriee, 2008).
According to Devi and Uma in their article, Relationship Between Parental Perception about Family Environment and Adolescent’s Emotional Intelligence, “The personality of the child depends on parental love and affection and child rearing practices and interaction with them.” Developing autonomy in a warm relationship builds, among other things, higher academic achievement, higher self-esteem and better role-taking skills, as well as a greater tendency toward taking responsibility for decisions. The article defines “independence” as “…the extent to which family members are assertive and independently make their own decisions.” Once again, the mother’s role was particularly important in the development of these youth. The warmth, love, and attitudes of the mother significantly and positively correlate with higher emotional intelligence.
Southern Indian elites had good relations with British rule. At the same time as the rush of incoming British culture, Indian innovations, inventions, and aesthetic experimentations (also considered modern, but native to India) emerged. These became of lesser value with emergence of photography and British histories and literature. Soon, the appreciators of modern Indian culture came to be known as “Tamil devotees,” “eccentric,” and “off-modern,” which terms inferred “ostensibly modern, but not wholly in it or even of it.” Therefore, those things of international origin became the modern, while those emerging from the native culture were simply eccentric (Nair and Janaki, 2006).
METHODS
Upon arriving in India, I spent much time familiarizing myself with the area and attempting to get acquainted with the youth, from which population I would later draw my sample. I attended church, and introduced myself to the young adults there. I later came to perform many informal interviews and one long semi-formal interview with one such young adult whom I will refer to as Kumar.
I also visited an all-girls college campus on multiple occasions, and there met two college girls (we will call them Sathiya and Priya) with whom I conducted two semi-formal interviews.
The information drawn from these three participants makes up the majority of the data found in this research.
I took notes either during or shortly after each interview (whether informal or semi-formal). After conducting the semi-formal interviews, which were recorded, I returned home and transcribed the interviews.
During each interview, and throughout my experience with the young Indians, I made a great effort to bracket my experiences with and expectations of education. I worked to get at their definitions and meanings. It was my goal to discover a little more about how they saw life, education, independence and the like. I began the interviews with very general questions, such as the structure of their school-day, or their topic of study, and generally allowed them to direct the interview, while I guided them through follow-up questions on topics relevant to my research (such as “You say your parents chose your UG study. What did they choose?” or, when the girls said that India was changing, I asked what they thought was the greatest change). In this way, I hope that the themes which have emerged will be more representative of their thoughts, ideals, and beliefs than of my own.
DATA
It did not take long after I began interviews before an obvious theme of dependence and independence emerged. It was clear from very early on that all of the young adults with whom I spoke saw these (independence and dependence) as somehow related to education. As I looked further into this theme, I realized that these individuals saw education as a direct influence on levels of independence. (It is important here to mention that not all the education to which they refer is formal.)
Said my one male participant (let’s call him Kumar), “I will learn to make decisions. I will learn from the things that I did so that I can just make decisions from the first day of my married life.” Here Kumar expresses his desire to learn from life and experience. He felt that his family sheltered him and that he was incapable of learning important lessons on how to become independent. This same participant obviously already had a taste for independence, although he was just beginning his formal education. I wondered how this somewhat (culturally) rebellious spirit emerged. He made it clear to me that his desires were not normal. When I asked him how he became different, he said “Before I was baptized into the church…till twelfth grade, I was happy. I wasn’t worried, I didn’t care, I was so happy. After completing twelfth grade, I joined the church. At that time, these problems came, at that time I learned about agency, and I learned about the plan of salvation, I learned about all these things. So all these things guided my life and how I should be.” Although he denies that it was religion that inspired him to desire more independence, over and over in our interviews he seemed to be saying, in not so many words, that the church did teach him values that led to his desire for independence. Again citing a source for his desire for independence, he mentioned the Scarlet Pimpernel. “One character really impressed me when I was in my seventh grade, the Scarlet Pimpernel. He is very rebellious. So I was just impressed with that guy, and how I need to stand…I move by myself. I should not be moved by any other person.” Although Kumar said that he didn’t particularly think much about the scarlet pimpernel at the time he read the book, later in life, he drew from his memory of the book when realizing that he yearned for more independence.
Although Kumar provided helpful insights, it was during one of my interviews with the girls, Murki and Gingly, that I finally understood the concept. We discussed the benefits of education, and they told me this:
Gingly: Education tells us what it’s like. We can meet very different people when we get an education. We can meet different people and different ways of life. But when we are not educated, we do not know what’s happening in the world. We are surrounded by four walls, that is all. So there is the difference.
Me: So when you’re educated, you see different ways of life, and you can think “Oh, that way is better.”
Murki: We can get an idea.
Gingly: If the parents are not educated, only they will do according to their parents.
Murki: Tradition
And suddenly it all made sense! This new generation sees the value in learning new things and new ways of life so they have something to compare to their own way. They want to see other version of reality in order to choose what they think is best. Often-times that comes through formal education, but from Gingly’s statement, we realize that even formal education is often simply another avenue for informal learning. She specifically points out that while getting an education we meet people, and can learn from them.
At this point, it’s important to define independence as it is being used by the participants. Their culture is vastly different from the culture of BYU, of America, and of much of the Western world in general, and we therefore tend to think in terms that do not directly translate. When I introduce my research to people here, they often automatically make the assumption that when I say they are striving toward independence, I am referring to financial independence. Although this would be a perfectly acceptable assumption to make if I were referring to females attaining an education in America, the youth in India have different goals in mind. At one point in my conversation with Murki and Gingly, I had been confused about something that had been said. I told them my understanding and asked for clarification. They said that I had reached my conclusions because I was independent, but in India they are dependent. This was toward the beginning of my research, as I was only beginning to notice the dependence/independence theme, and I asked them to please clarify. After generalizing India as being dependent and America as independent, they then defined the two for me in this way:
In India, from childhood, your parents take care of you. As a little child, they always make all your decisions. They make decisions about your school, all the way through college, when you finish college, and until you get married. Then when you are married, your husband and his parents make choices for you. They have always taken care of you, so you defer to them. They love you and they will make good choices for you. They are responsible for you. Then you have children of your own, and you make their choices, and your parents are still over you…it’s very involved. Sometimes they let you make choices, but you always have to go to them, and they always have to agree with your choices. You are obligated to have their permission.
In America, you make choices without your parents’ knowledge.
So dependence and independence are really about decision-making and involvement.
So now we know that independence, as used by the participants, means that ability to make one’s own decisions, and we know that they see it as an outcome of education and learning of all kinds. But is this good? Is it all right for these people to be independent? From their definition, it sounds like independence is a cultural form of respect. How, then, is education affecting this? Should they be striving toward independence?
Kumar, Murki, and Gingly think so. During one interview with the girls, I was asking about their society, and they mentioned that it was changing. I thought this was interesting and asked what they thought was the greatest change. They replied that education was the greatest change! I asked if the changing society was a good thing. They said that when the change is better than tradition, it’s good, and they will accept it, but when it is just different, they prefer the traditional way. They then used the examples of education and clothing. Education for females is a new idea, but it is good, so they like it. Changing clothing styles is not any better than tradition, it is only different, so they prefer their traditional dress. At one time, I asked directly if becoming educated was ok.
Murki: Yeah, it is good. We will not be dependent on husband. Like you, you will not depend on your husband. We can stand on our own two legs.
Me: Is that ok? Because you’re supposed to be dependent
Murki: It will be ok, because there will be a mutual understanding between husband and wife.
…and later in the conversation:
Gingly: If we are educated, it will show that we have some maturity.
Murki: We will have a mutual understanding also. Our husband will understand us better.
In an interview with Kumar, he told me that he had just started working. As a college student, this is very unusual, because students are expected to be entirely financially independent on their parents. I asked if this (independent act) was good. He replied:
Yes, it’s better for learning. It’s better for making your independent choices. My mom doesn’t want me in the job. She told me she will pay for everything, but if she tells me, then I will be under her control… I need to be independent. So if I had been an independent kid, I would be in my second year of paleontology right now. But because I was dependent, I’m not in my paleontology. I’m in historical studies, first year, and I need to complete my BS, then I can enter into paleontology.
But what specific consequences come from being independent and making your own decisions without the help of parents, parents-in-law, or husbands? From my interviews, it is apparent that by far the most concern is with the ability to become good mothers and fathers, wives and husbands. Much of the desire for independence comes from the desire to have a good family life. Kumar said plain and simply “If I take decisions from now, I will be better husband and father.” Again, when I was asking Murki and Gingly whether independence was a good thing, they replied that it was good because “there will be a mutual understanding between husband and wife.”
Gingly: If we are educated, it will show that we have some maturity.
Murki: We will have a mutual understanding also. Our husband will understand us better.
These girls want to be on, at least more equal grounds with their husbands. They do not want to seem incompetent and therefore rely upon their husbands. They want their husbands to know that they are educated and can make decisions. And they expect that through education they will better understand their husbands. They want a more equal partnership. And this is good.
But it is not only relationships with husbands that concern these girls. They also expect to be better mothers because of education. Remember that the girls have already told us that parenting, if not changed by education, relies on tradition, but that through education, parents can discover new ways of upbringing. At one point, I asked the girls about different family relationships that they currently had, and then asked what relationship they wanted to have with their future daughters (in the context of education).
Murki: I wish for my child to study more, more, and more. I want her to get a good job, a good marriage. She should be free.
Gingly: Independent.
Murki: With her, I will be a friend. I will talk with them as a friend. We’ll give advice, we’ll lead…
Gingly: There are some parents like this because they are educated. Educated parents are like that.
CONCLUSION
Education, though not particularly formal education, brings independence. The government and the social sciences have recognized it for decades, and now the youth in India are recognizing it. Kumar learned from the church, he learned from literature. He saw other ways of life that he thought were better, and chose those. Murki and Gingly recognize the worth of learning other points of view. It is not always schooling which increases independence. It is learning. It is education. Through education, through learning, these individuals expect to be able to make decisions. They expect to be better fathers and mothers, husbands and wives. Independence is seen as good, and so they seek after it.
REFERENCES
Devi and Uma (2006). Relationship Between Parental Perception about family Environment and Adolescent’s Emotional Intelligence. Man in India. 86 (1-2) 155-162.
Duary and Nabakumar(2006). Gender Disability in the Education of Tribal Female in India. Man in India. 8 (3-4) 325-341.
Joshi, N.V., Gadgil, M., Patil, S. (1996). Correlates of the Desired Family Size among Indian Communities. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of ISA. 93(13)6387-6392.
Kamat, A.R. (1976). Women’s Education and Social Change in India. Social Scientist. 5(1) 3-27.
Mukheriee (2008). Role of Parental Education in Schooling and Child Labour Decisions: urban India in the last decade. Social Indicators Research. 89(2)305-322.
Nair and Janaki (2006). Beyond exceptionalism: South Indian and the modern historical imagination. The Indian Economic and Social History Review. 43(3)323-347.
Nirmala, R., Cheng, K.M., Narain, K. (2003). Primary Schooling in China and India: Understanding How Socio-Contextual Factors Moderate the Role of the State. International Review of Education. 49(1/2) 153-176.
Rahman and Ansari (2007). Changing Trend in Tharu Tribe of Uttar Pradesh: a socio-economic and demographic picture. Man in India. 87 (3-4) 389-398.
Rani (2007). Girl’s Secondary Schooling Participation in India: barriesrs vs. state initiatives. Man in India. 87 (3-4)335-354.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Top 5 things I WILL miss:
THE FOOD
Talis, 5 rps ice cream, dolsa, idly, coconut chutney, sambar, piasam, milk bikis…these are things you just can’t get at home. And let me tell you…these foods ALONE are enough for a trip to India!
SCENERY
I live surrounded by lush, green mountains. There are coconuts trees and banana trees in every direction. The sunsets are direct from paradise. The night sky, and the stars…the view of the milky way are incomparable.
SITTING ON THE VERANDA
Talking with Matthew and my favorite Jeeva, that’s when I learn the most about this culture, and when I come to love the people most. And little Priya and Edwin…they’re awesome! Some of my favorite nights are spent out on the veranda talking with them. And when Appa’s over! The uno is intense. The cool night breeze, or watching the rain…watching as Jeeva prepares vegetables…the veranda is one of my favorite places. I’ll be sad to leave it.
THE PEOPLE
Appa! I’m going to miss that dear old man. And the rest of the family is so sweet! And all the people in town that now love us, I’m going to miss them all!
DIAMOND CLASS
There is nothing like going to the theatre in the hot and heavy air of India, then taking your seat in the cool, air conditioned room, on a COUCH! If you are ever in India, and going to see a movie, diamond class is the way to do it. Just twenty rps more, and you get to sit in a love seat or arm chair. Not to mention the intermission snacks (awesome Indian popcorn, ice cream, or mango juice!).
Yeah, I miss a lot of things in America, but as soon as I get back home, my problems will not be solved. I have come to love and adjust to the life here in Tamil Nadu. And I do love it. I’ll miss India, too.
Talis, 5 rps ice cream, dolsa, idly, coconut chutney, sambar, piasam, milk bikis…these are things you just can’t get at home. And let me tell you…these foods ALONE are enough for a trip to India!
SCENERY
I live surrounded by lush, green mountains. There are coconuts trees and banana trees in every direction. The sunsets are direct from paradise. The night sky, and the stars…the view of the milky way are incomparable.
SITTING ON THE VERANDA
Talking with Matthew and my favorite Jeeva, that’s when I learn the most about this culture, and when I come to love the people most. And little Priya and Edwin…they’re awesome! Some of my favorite nights are spent out on the veranda talking with them. And when Appa’s over! The uno is intense. The cool night breeze, or watching the rain…watching as Jeeva prepares vegetables…the veranda is one of my favorite places. I’ll be sad to leave it.
THE PEOPLE
Appa! I’m going to miss that dear old man. And the rest of the family is so sweet! And all the people in town that now love us, I’m going to miss them all!
DIAMOND CLASS
There is nothing like going to the theatre in the hot and heavy air of India, then taking your seat in the cool, air conditioned room, on a COUCH! If you are ever in India, and going to see a movie, diamond class is the way to do it. Just twenty rps more, and you get to sit in a love seat or arm chair. Not to mention the intermission snacks (awesome Indian popcorn, ice cream, or mango juice!).
Yeah, I miss a lot of things in America, but as soon as I get back home, my problems will not be solved. I have come to love and adjust to the life here in Tamil Nadu. And I do love it. I’ll miss India, too.
Indians that I love
Jacyla (sp???)
My host-cousin. She stays here a lot.
Arthi and Praisey! My friends at Nirmala College
Mamma and Amma!!! Our favorite dinner-providers!
Some of the adorable neighborhood girls
APPA!!!!
My lovely host-mother, Jeeva :)
Matthew's sister, Salomani. She never fails to re-tie our poor attempts at sarees.
Matthew. My adorable host-father.
Priya and Edwin! My little sister and brother! They're awesome.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Top 5 Things I Miss (in no particular order)
CLEANLINESS
Waking up in a bed and NOT finding dead bug parts stuck to your arms, spending an entire day outside and not having your snot run black, not being covered in perpetual dark grime, eating food without hitting the pockets of dirt, washing my face in the morning and feeling as though it’s still clean a full hour later…these are experiences you just don’t get living here in the village.
AUTUMN
In a land of constant heat and humidity, where the sun is always hot and the air is always sticky…where the leaves are always green and the world is always fertile…in this paradise, yes, I miss fall. I miss seeing the leaves change colors. I miss the crisp air, and the cold rains. I miss the sensation of being chilly. I miss feeling like I need a jacket. I miss my favorite season.
(closely related)
MOSQUITOS THAT DIE IN OCTOBER
That’s really all I (in all my polka-dotted itchiness) really have to say on the subject.
FURNITURE
I come home late at night, I’m tired, and I want a BED to flop down on. I love sitting out on the veranda…but I do occasionally wish I had a couch to curl up in. I’m lonely for my chair. And, not sure if this counts as furniture, but I have really, really missed carpeting.
Aaaaaaaand…
ADJUSTABLE WATER TEMPERATURE
Yeah. Getting up in the morning, and being able to take a shower with water that wasn’t sitting in a dark, concrete room overnight. Then, in the afternoon, when it’s hot, taking a gulp of nice, cool water…water that hasn’t been sitting in a plastic water bottle in our sweltering bedroom. I would like to wash my hands in whatever temperature I’d like, or brush my teeth, or wash my face…
So yes. I really do love India, and I am enjoying my time here. But I think if our village could somehow make these few improvements, those few bad days I run into would be much more bearable.
Waking up in a bed and NOT finding dead bug parts stuck to your arms, spending an entire day outside and not having your snot run black, not being covered in perpetual dark grime, eating food without hitting the pockets of dirt, washing my face in the morning and feeling as though it’s still clean a full hour later…these are experiences you just don’t get living here in the village.
AUTUMN
In a land of constant heat and humidity, where the sun is always hot and the air is always sticky…where the leaves are always green and the world is always fertile…in this paradise, yes, I miss fall. I miss seeing the leaves change colors. I miss the crisp air, and the cold rains. I miss the sensation of being chilly. I miss feeling like I need a jacket. I miss my favorite season.
(closely related)
MOSQUITOS THAT DIE IN OCTOBER
That’s really all I (in all my polka-dotted itchiness) really have to say on the subject.
FURNITURE
I come home late at night, I’m tired, and I want a BED to flop down on. I love sitting out on the veranda…but I do occasionally wish I had a couch to curl up in. I’m lonely for my chair. And, not sure if this counts as furniture, but I have really, really missed carpeting.
Aaaaaaaand…
ADJUSTABLE WATER TEMPERATURE
Yeah. Getting up in the morning, and being able to take a shower with water that wasn’t sitting in a dark, concrete room overnight. Then, in the afternoon, when it’s hot, taking a gulp of nice, cool water…water that hasn’t been sitting in a plastic water bottle in our sweltering bedroom. I would like to wash my hands in whatever temperature I’d like, or brush my teeth, or wash my face…
So yes. I really do love India, and I am enjoying my time here. But I think if our village could somehow make these few improvements, those few bad days I run into would be much more bearable.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Once Upon a Time
…in a far away land, there was a small group of girls living among a people that were very different from themselves. They loved learning about these people, and tried to understand their ways.
One day, these girls met a very kind friend, named Naga. Naga took the girls to her home, and fed them dinner with her family. Naga’s parents, brother, and new sister-in-law were all very kind and helpful to these girls. They fed them wonderful food, and taught them some of the culture. The girls and the family together had a very fun evening, and they all became good friends.
The girls got busy, and neglected to visit the family again for a long time. Finally, a few weeks later, one of the girls went back to the home. When she arrived, she met Naga’s brother and sister-in-law (who’s name was Vasanthi), but did not see Naga. When she asked where Naga was, the brother looked very sad, and said that Naga had gone away, to the city, and would not come home. Naga had fallen in love with a man, but her parents were unhappy. They did not approve of Naga falling in love. It was not the ways of the people. They did not accept Naga’s choice, and Naga had to leave forever.
The girl was very sad for the family, and very surprised! She never expected Naga to make this decision. But Naga was gone, and the girl tried very hard to comfort the family. The mother was most sad. She cried with the girl. But the family began to heal, and the girl became even better friends with them.
The girl came to love the family very much, and today, she visits them often. The family fed her good foods, and taught her many new things. She soon found out that Vasanthi did not have beliefs like her family, but that Vasanthi’s religion was similar to her own! The girl and Vasanthi sat, and talked about religion much. They became very close friends, and still talk much today. Although they are still sometimes very sad about Naga, the girl and the family have grown very close, and treasure the friendship that they have made.
(When I found out Vasanthi was Christian, not Hindu [and when she found out that I was Christian] the both of us were excited! She told me that she has a Bible that she loves to read. I told her about the Book of Mormon. She told me that if I had a book for her, she would read it, but that she did not read English well. I recently [as recently as Sunday] secured a Tamil copy of the Book of Mormon! I just recently gave it to Vasanthi. She seems very receptive.
I am so grateful to have this chance, to learn about these people, and to befriend them! I am really enjoying my experience here. I look forward to coming home, and do sometimes miss Western culture, but the thought of leaving these people and this culture always makes me sad. I have truly come to love these people.)
One day, these girls met a very kind friend, named Naga. Naga took the girls to her home, and fed them dinner with her family. Naga’s parents, brother, and new sister-in-law were all very kind and helpful to these girls. They fed them wonderful food, and taught them some of the culture. The girls and the family together had a very fun evening, and they all became good friends.
The girls got busy, and neglected to visit the family again for a long time. Finally, a few weeks later, one of the girls went back to the home. When she arrived, she met Naga’s brother and sister-in-law (who’s name was Vasanthi), but did not see Naga. When she asked where Naga was, the brother looked very sad, and said that Naga had gone away, to the city, and would not come home. Naga had fallen in love with a man, but her parents were unhappy. They did not approve of Naga falling in love. It was not the ways of the people. They did not accept Naga’s choice, and Naga had to leave forever.
The girl was very sad for the family, and very surprised! She never expected Naga to make this decision. But Naga was gone, and the girl tried very hard to comfort the family. The mother was most sad. She cried with the girl. But the family began to heal, and the girl became even better friends with them.
The girl came to love the family very much, and today, she visits them often. The family fed her good foods, and taught her many new things. She soon found out that Vasanthi did not have beliefs like her family, but that Vasanthi’s religion was similar to her own! The girl and Vasanthi sat, and talked about religion much. They became very close friends, and still talk much today. Although they are still sometimes very sad about Naga, the girl and the family have grown very close, and treasure the friendship that they have made.
(When I found out Vasanthi was Christian, not Hindu [and when she found out that I was Christian] the both of us were excited! She told me that she has a Bible that she loves to read. I told her about the Book of Mormon. She told me that if I had a book for her, she would read it, but that she did not read English well. I recently [as recently as Sunday] secured a Tamil copy of the Book of Mormon! I just recently gave it to Vasanthi. She seems very receptive.
I am so grateful to have this chance, to learn about these people, and to befriend them! I am really enjoying my experience here. I look forward to coming home, and do sometimes miss Western culture, but the thought of leaving these people and this culture always makes me sad. I have truly come to love these people.)
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Juice Surprise!
Funny story!
K, so we’re shopping today, and I am soooo thirsty! Here in Coimbatore, seriously…there are fruit stalls every twenty meters or so. They’re everywhere! Fruit is everwhere, so they sell fruit everywhere, and everwyehre that fruit is sold, they make juice.
Yet somehow, in this juice-haven of a city, as I wander, like a walking human raisen, with half the water content in my blood that should be allowed, yes—in this moment, I look to my left; I look to my right; I look forward and backward, up and down; I look here and there and everywhere, but NOWHERE is a juice shop to be found!
I stumble, weak from my lack of hydration, down to the corner, and around to the other street. I throw myself on the steps of Bata, and wait for death to come and claim me (either death or the bus I need—whichever comes first).
And then it happened. I lift my head (a terrible struggle), and peer across the street. All else fades from my vision as I spy a single, unattractive Indian lady, standing in her saree.
But it was not the lady that held captive my attention. Neither was it her saree. No…no, it was the thing in her hand. This…this thing! It was a glass! Yes! This single, unattractive Indian lady, standing in her saree, was holding a glass! And it was a glass full of…JUICE!
Unable to create a full thought, I somehow find myself on my feet. I miraculously make it across the busy Coimbatore road alive, and find a cart with a juicer on top.
I manage to communicate to the ownder, to this merciful man, that I would like a glass of whatever this life-juice was, which he was distributing.
Then I watched.
I watched as this kind man reached down, and brought forth a bundle of sticks. It appeared as though the bark had been removed, but yes…sticks*. He then proceeded to feed these sticks through the juicer, and out came—you guessed it—stick juice!
I watched as the juice trickled into a pot, as he picked a random glass from the stand (quite possible the very same glass that had only just left the fingers, and lips, of the single, unactractive Indian lady in her saree), I watched as he, with his bare hands crushed dirt- and (possibly) parasite-infested homemade ice into the glass.
I then watched as he poured the stick juice into the glass from the unattractive Indian lady and her saree, into the homemade, parasite-infested iced, into my glass, and handed it to me.
And I drank the juice.
P.S. For those kind souls that may be concered for my physical well-being, you need not worry. Just as I reached for the glass, the bus I needed pulled around the corner. I chugged it before the parasite ice ever had a chance.
*see comments
K, so we’re shopping today, and I am soooo thirsty! Here in Coimbatore, seriously…there are fruit stalls every twenty meters or so. They’re everywhere! Fruit is everwhere, so they sell fruit everywhere, and everwyehre that fruit is sold, they make juice.
Yet somehow, in this juice-haven of a city, as I wander, like a walking human raisen, with half the water content in my blood that should be allowed, yes—in this moment, I look to my left; I look to my right; I look forward and backward, up and down; I look here and there and everywhere, but NOWHERE is a juice shop to be found!
I stumble, weak from my lack of hydration, down to the corner, and around to the other street. I throw myself on the steps of Bata, and wait for death to come and claim me (either death or the bus I need—whichever comes first).
And then it happened. I lift my head (a terrible struggle), and peer across the street. All else fades from my vision as I spy a single, unattractive Indian lady, standing in her saree.
But it was not the lady that held captive my attention. Neither was it her saree. No…no, it was the thing in her hand. This…this thing! It was a glass! Yes! This single, unattractive Indian lady, standing in her saree, was holding a glass! And it was a glass full of…JUICE!
Unable to create a full thought, I somehow find myself on my feet. I miraculously make it across the busy Coimbatore road alive, and find a cart with a juicer on top.
I manage to communicate to the ownder, to this merciful man, that I would like a glass of whatever this life-juice was, which he was distributing.
Then I watched.
I watched as this kind man reached down, and brought forth a bundle of sticks. It appeared as though the bark had been removed, but yes…sticks*. He then proceeded to feed these sticks through the juicer, and out came—you guessed it—stick juice!
I watched as the juice trickled into a pot, as he picked a random glass from the stand (quite possible the very same glass that had only just left the fingers, and lips, of the single, unactractive Indian lady in her saree), I watched as he, with his bare hands crushed dirt- and (possibly) parasite-infested homemade ice into the glass.
I then watched as he poured the stick juice into the glass from the unattractive Indian lady and her saree, into the homemade, parasite-infested iced, into my glass, and handed it to me.
And I drank the juice.
P.S. For those kind souls that may be concered for my physical well-being, you need not worry. Just as I reached for the glass, the bus I needed pulled around the corner. I chugged it before the parasite ice ever had a chance.
*see comments
Oh my!
I can cope with the monstrous spiders on my bedroom walls. I'm all right with the cockroaches on the bathroom floor. The giant rat that lives in the yard doesn't give me problems. I avoid them when I have to, but for the most part, we all coexist quite peaceably (except for the part where I, or someone nearby, kills the unwanted pest).
None of these critters caused me any lasting trauma. I see them, I may squeal a little, or hop back on one foot...but the unfortunate foe either meets its end, or crawls away and leaves me unharmed in any way.
I recently experienced a much more memorable encounter with a small, unwanted animal.
It all began one dark night, when, for the nightly electricity outage, I could stand the sweltering heat of our fan-less bedroom no longer, and went out to the veranda to catch a breeze. It wasn't long before a fellow room mate quit the heat of the room and joined me on the veranda. And there we sat talking.
Our conversation became more involved, and by the time the electricity came back on, and we could have returned to our room, under the relief of a working fan, neither of us moved. We simply sat, talking in the globe light coming from the nearby streetlights. It was around this time, as I sat talking and staring into the ghostly courtyard, that a stray strand of twine captured my attention.
However, as we chatted and I stared, this piece of twine slithered. I don't know if you knew, but...twine doesn't generally move of its own accord. In fact...it doesn't. Ever. Needless to say, my previously loosely directed attention was suddenly riveted on this "twine." I stared, and pointed, and mumbled something along the lines of "I think there's a snake over there."
My partner in conversation got up and said she would be back with a flashlight to see for sure. Of course, by "I think there's a snake over there," what I really meant was "I know there's a snake over there. And you're an idiot" (pardon...that may sound harsh. It's an India Field Studies thing). However, I allowed her to leave, as I stood (it may have been more like a hop back on one foot, the details are a bit fuzzy), my eyes stuck to this mass slithering toward the veranda.
She came back with her flashlight and agreed that yes, indeed there was a snake ("Mh-hmm."). We went to wake the host family.
Appa was first up, and ready for battle. However, his weapon of choice is most commonly a small, twig broom. I've heard tales of Appa wielding a sling-shot, but have yet to experience this myself. Regardless, this twig broom appeared on this evening. It would not be sufficient against this beast. When Appa saw the enemy at hand, and realization dawned, he lowered his broom and yelled something in the local tongue to our host father.
Our dear host father came out of the bedroom, groggy, and saw the snake (this thing was big). He went back to his room, and emerged once again with a large, wooden stick in hand and quite a bit more focus in his eyes. He solemnly declared this an extremely poisonous viper.
As the females of the household (myself inclusive) huddled against the wall, this brave man bent over the snake, wooden stick hovering, until just the right moment, when the stick came down, smashing the head of the snake.
This, sadly, was not a sufficient blow. Although the snake was incapacitated, and would not likely live through the night...it was not dead. I think. The snake slayer sent another forceful jab to the serpent's head. The exact time of death for this unpleasant visitor is still in question by all witnesses. The being continued to writhe, squirm, and slither for quite some time after the first two blows to the head. Our courageous host father continued on in his brave battle for many long minutes before finally satisfied with the amount of life left in the dying (or dead) fiend coiled at the steps of his home.
Although this incident is over, and through the course of the night, I am confident that the snake was sufficiently killed and disposed of (as I stood watching the majority of the process), I have been left with an inescapable sense of fear whenever laeving the safety of my bedroom late at night. The spiders, the cockroaches, and the rat have left little (no?) impression on me. But the look in the eyes of my host father, and the tone in his voice when he thanked us for waking him have not left me.
Snakes do not commonly frequent the homes in this area, and all immediate danger has been removed. Another snake is not expected. And yet, I am left worrying each night, waving my flashlight around the courtyard, frightened that I might see something.
I am glad to be here. This is a wonderful country, and a wonderful opportunity. And I thank God that I don't have to stay here forever.
None of these critters caused me any lasting trauma. I see them, I may squeal a little, or hop back on one foot...but the unfortunate foe either meets its end, or crawls away and leaves me unharmed in any way.
I recently experienced a much more memorable encounter with a small, unwanted animal.
It all began one dark night, when, for the nightly electricity outage, I could stand the sweltering heat of our fan-less bedroom no longer, and went out to the veranda to catch a breeze. It wasn't long before a fellow room mate quit the heat of the room and joined me on the veranda. And there we sat talking.
Our conversation became more involved, and by the time the electricity came back on, and we could have returned to our room, under the relief of a working fan, neither of us moved. We simply sat, talking in the globe light coming from the nearby streetlights. It was around this time, as I sat talking and staring into the ghostly courtyard, that a stray strand of twine captured my attention.
However, as we chatted and I stared, this piece of twine slithered. I don't know if you knew, but...twine doesn't generally move of its own accord. In fact...it doesn't. Ever. Needless to say, my previously loosely directed attention was suddenly riveted on this "twine." I stared, and pointed, and mumbled something along the lines of "I think there's a snake over there."
My partner in conversation got up and said she would be back with a flashlight to see for sure. Of course, by "I think there's a snake over there," what I really meant was "I know there's a snake over there. And you're an idiot" (pardon...that may sound harsh. It's an India Field Studies thing). However, I allowed her to leave, as I stood (it may have been more like a hop back on one foot, the details are a bit fuzzy), my eyes stuck to this mass slithering toward the veranda.
She came back with her flashlight and agreed that yes, indeed there was a snake ("Mh-hmm."). We went to wake the host family.
Appa was first up, and ready for battle. However, his weapon of choice is most commonly a small, twig broom. I've heard tales of Appa wielding a sling-shot, but have yet to experience this myself. Regardless, this twig broom appeared on this evening. It would not be sufficient against this beast. When Appa saw the enemy at hand, and realization dawned, he lowered his broom and yelled something in the local tongue to our host father.
Our dear host father came out of the bedroom, groggy, and saw the snake (this thing was big). He went back to his room, and emerged once again with a large, wooden stick in hand and quite a bit more focus in his eyes. He solemnly declared this an extremely poisonous viper.
As the females of the household (myself inclusive) huddled against the wall, this brave man bent over the snake, wooden stick hovering, until just the right moment, when the stick came down, smashing the head of the snake.
This, sadly, was not a sufficient blow. Although the snake was incapacitated, and would not likely live through the night...it was not dead. I think. The snake slayer sent another forceful jab to the serpent's head. The exact time of death for this unpleasant visitor is still in question by all witnesses. The being continued to writhe, squirm, and slither for quite some time after the first two blows to the head. Our courageous host father continued on in his brave battle for many long minutes before finally satisfied with the amount of life left in the dying (or dead) fiend coiled at the steps of his home.
Although this incident is over, and through the course of the night, I am confident that the snake was sufficiently killed and disposed of (as I stood watching the majority of the process), I have been left with an inescapable sense of fear whenever laeving the safety of my bedroom late at night. The spiders, the cockroaches, and the rat have left little (no?) impression on me. But the look in the eyes of my host father, and the tone in his voice when he thanked us for waking him have not left me.
Snakes do not commonly frequent the homes in this area, and all immediate danger has been removed. Another snake is not expected. And yet, I am left worrying each night, waving my flashlight around the courtyard, frightened that I might see something.
I am glad to be here. This is a wonderful country, and a wonderful opportunity. And I thank God that I don't have to stay here forever.
Uno in a Dhoti, Part II
So I guess this was a REALLY round-about way of saying all of this, but my point to all of this is simply to say...Appa is adorable.
He walks around in his dhoti, and bobbles his head, and he plays uno.
Appa is a meanuno player! He doesn't mess around! I tell you, get a couple of those kids, and a field studies student going on a game of uno with Appa, and...it is incredible to behold. In fact, I have a video. I'll add it sometime.
And yes. That is basically what I wanted to say. I love Appa.
He walks around in his dhoti, and bobbles his head, and he plays uno.
Appa is a meanuno player! He doesn't mess around! I tell you, get a couple of those kids, and a field studies student going on a game of uno with Appa, and...it is incredible to behold. In fact, I have a video. I'll add it sometime.
And yes. That is basically what I wanted to say. I love Appa.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Uno in a Dhoti
The past couple of weeks, our presence here in Chavadi has been complimented by that of our host mother’s father, lovingly known by all as “Appa,” the Tamil word for “father.” Appa knows about as much English as I know Tamil, but he’s expert at reading faces, intonations, and hand gestures. I always felt like he and I had a special bond. Whenever passing by, he always made sure to bobble his head and smile at me, and I would always either wave, or bring my hands together in front of my face and say “Vanakam” (the traditional local greeting). Yes. We had something special.
Appa recently disappeared from life here in the village. Two days ago he was here. Yesterday, he was not. He never even said good bye.
However! This is actually not the point of what I have to say today. Appa will be back, and I will again, someday soon, bobble my head at him, and give him my warm regards. But until then! I intend to describe to you the wonder that is endearing old men in India. I, sadly, have not as yet encountered many of these wonderful children of God, but all that I have interacted with have been adorable.
May I first describe the common apparel here in India? I think I have already mentioned the salwars—I have, by this point, memorized the common term for them here…churidars. These outfits include a long shirt, usually down to the knees or past, with some amazing pants that are unlike any other, and a scarf. This is what I wear on a daily basis. Young children wear western clothes, but as they grow (I would guess it is around puberty?), they are expected to wear the traditional clothing (with the exception of wealthy city-dwellers). At this point…whatever that point really is…the girls begin wearing the churidars. Here, the churidars are worn until marriage, when a girl becomes a woman and dons the famed saree. The saree is that loooooong piece of fabric wound intricately around the women. It is worn on top of an underskirt and a saree top (a very short blouse, which covers the shoulders and chest of the woman where the saree does not always).
The men, though…the men are slightly different. Most men in the city wear pants. All students wear pants. But if you are a man in the village, or an old man anywhere, you get to wear a dhoti.
A dhoti is an amazing little thing. It’s like a miniature sheet. It is wound and tied tightly once around the waist. It can then be worn like that, as a piece of fabric tied around the waist, reaching to the ground. This seems to be the more casual, or sometimes the more…maybe the younger look? I haven’t quite gathered that yet…but no. It is not the normal look. The common dhoti wearer then picks up the hem of the dhoti in both hands, and pulls it up around his waist. He usually flaps it around for a few minutes. I have a few theories on this flapping of the dhoti. I think it may be used as a method to shake out excess folds, or perhaps simply a cooling mechanism. Whatever the purpose may be, it happens whenever a man reties his dhoti (which is quite often). Once he has flapped sufficiently, he then ties the dhoti once more around his waist, and is fully dressed.
Well, ok, the dhoti is at least then sufficiently secured. It is actually most often worn on top of a pair of very short shorts. Most men wear some type of top with it. In the village while working at the shops, some wear a white tank. But the dhoti is almost always worn with some version of a button-up, collared shirt. It’s an interesting combination, yes. But I feel that way about a lot of India.
(sadly, my time has run out, and I must leave this blog to be continued later…)
Appa recently disappeared from life here in the village. Two days ago he was here. Yesterday, he was not. He never even said good bye.
However! This is actually not the point of what I have to say today. Appa will be back, and I will again, someday soon, bobble my head at him, and give him my warm regards. But until then! I intend to describe to you the wonder that is endearing old men in India. I, sadly, have not as yet encountered many of these wonderful children of God, but all that I have interacted with have been adorable.
May I first describe the common apparel here in India? I think I have already mentioned the salwars—I have, by this point, memorized the common term for them here…churidars. These outfits include a long shirt, usually down to the knees or past, with some amazing pants that are unlike any other, and a scarf. This is what I wear on a daily basis. Young children wear western clothes, but as they grow (I would guess it is around puberty?), they are expected to wear the traditional clothing (with the exception of wealthy city-dwellers). At this point…whatever that point really is…the girls begin wearing the churidars. Here, the churidars are worn until marriage, when a girl becomes a woman and dons the famed saree. The saree is that loooooong piece of fabric wound intricately around the women. It is worn on top of an underskirt and a saree top (a very short blouse, which covers the shoulders and chest of the woman where the saree does not always).
The men, though…the men are slightly different. Most men in the city wear pants. All students wear pants. But if you are a man in the village, or an old man anywhere, you get to wear a dhoti.
A dhoti is an amazing little thing. It’s like a miniature sheet. It is wound and tied tightly once around the waist. It can then be worn like that, as a piece of fabric tied around the waist, reaching to the ground. This seems to be the more casual, or sometimes the more…maybe the younger look? I haven’t quite gathered that yet…but no. It is not the normal look. The common dhoti wearer then picks up the hem of the dhoti in both hands, and pulls it up around his waist. He usually flaps it around for a few minutes. I have a few theories on this flapping of the dhoti. I think it may be used as a method to shake out excess folds, or perhaps simply a cooling mechanism. Whatever the purpose may be, it happens whenever a man reties his dhoti (which is quite often). Once he has flapped sufficiently, he then ties the dhoti once more around his waist, and is fully dressed.
Well, ok, the dhoti is at least then sufficiently secured. It is actually most often worn on top of a pair of very short shorts. Most men wear some type of top with it. In the village while working at the shops, some wear a white tank. But the dhoti is almost always worn with some version of a button-up, collared shirt. It’s an interesting combination, yes. But I feel that way about a lot of India.
(sadly, my time has run out, and I must leave this blog to be continued later…)
Thursday, September 25, 2008
I must go to fetch the water...
The season must have officially changed from summer to rain. It rains every day now. Some days the rain is accompanied by patches and periods of sun, but there is inevitably rain on the menu. Daily. It makes the laundry situation an interesting one. It’s also less hot. When the sun and the hours 12-3 align, it can still be uncomfortably warm (after factoring in the humidity), but it is usually quite nice. In our room, we often have the fan on, to subdue the stuffiness which comes as a result of the moisture, but we sit under blankets.
I’ve taken a few walks in the village. From what I’ve gathered, there’s not much here. The vast majority of all buildings are homes. A few little shops (selling bananas, sweets, “biscuits”—cookies—, and other small snacks) are sprinkled in. There’s also a small restaurant (I think Liann refers to it as the tea stall), and a number of temples. I also think I passed a barber’s shop (a small shack with a chair inside) at one point. But it’s difficult for me to tell what buildings are what. To my American eyes, all the buildings tend to look very much like all the others. They are large cement blocks, with small openings for windows (many of the larger windows have wooden doors). Most roofing is in some sort of ceramic or clay tiles…I can’t quite tell. Many of the sheds, outhouses, or poorer homes are thatched huts, or at least have thatched roofs. Our outhouse is cement with a thatched roof. (I just checked with Matthew, our host, and he says that the roof is clay tiles.)
Our facilitator is out of town for the weekend (for personal reasons), so the three of us inexperienced girls have been on our own. We were invited to dinner the other day. Last (and only other time) we went to dinner at a family other than our host, the family was a little more western. They had a table. This time, the family was very Indian. And we are all still very American. We had fun trying to figure out how to be polite. We kept slipping and saying thank you. In India, you don’t say “thank you” to family or friends. The family reminded us of this on multiple occasions. Finding a polite way to excuse ourselves for the evening was fun. We went through a few cycles of trying to decide if our hosts were trying to politely suggest we leave, trying to leave, and being asked to stay. Not sure that we handled ourselves in the most polite and culturally savvy way possible…but we made it through the night, and we all seem to be friends still, so I count that as a successful excursion.
Exciting news! I got to carry water today! The large cistern (the one with the fish, from which we draw water to shower) is filled every few days. I don’t understand the system of taking turns at the water tap. And from what I hear, none of the byu students have ever understood. But there’s a water spout just out on the road. It comes on occasionally, and when it does, the families in the surrounding area set out their little plastic pots to claim a spot in the water line. But not every time…I just don’t understand. Anyway! When it’s our turn, we get large plastic pots and carry them back and forth from the spout to the cistern. It’s a rather exciting ordeal. The little neighborhood girls laughed at us Americans who can’t carry our water properly. They laughed a lot. We’ll get better. I was excited to be able to sing the song from The Jungle Book (Father’s hunting in the forest/ Mother’s cooking in the home/ I must go to fetch the water…) and have it actually apply to the situation! I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for this opportunity. We actually really do enjoy carrying the water. And it will be a fun challenge to learn how to carry it like a little Indian girl, and not spill all over ourselves. (For those of you wondering, they actually do not carry the water on their heads…they hold it on their hips.)
I’ve taken a few walks in the village. From what I’ve gathered, there’s not much here. The vast majority of all buildings are homes. A few little shops (selling bananas, sweets, “biscuits”—cookies—, and other small snacks) are sprinkled in. There’s also a small restaurant (I think Liann refers to it as the tea stall), and a number of temples. I also think I passed a barber’s shop (a small shack with a chair inside) at one point. But it’s difficult for me to tell what buildings are what. To my American eyes, all the buildings tend to look very much like all the others. They are large cement blocks, with small openings for windows (many of the larger windows have wooden doors). Most roofing is in some sort of ceramic or clay tiles…I can’t quite tell. Many of the sheds, outhouses, or poorer homes are thatched huts, or at least have thatched roofs. Our outhouse is cement with a thatched roof. (I just checked with Matthew, our host, and he says that the roof is clay tiles.)
Our facilitator is out of town for the weekend (for personal reasons), so the three of us inexperienced girls have been on our own. We were invited to dinner the other day. Last (and only other time) we went to dinner at a family other than our host, the family was a little more western. They had a table. This time, the family was very Indian. And we are all still very American. We had fun trying to figure out how to be polite. We kept slipping and saying thank you. In India, you don’t say “thank you” to family or friends. The family reminded us of this on multiple occasions. Finding a polite way to excuse ourselves for the evening was fun. We went through a few cycles of trying to decide if our hosts were trying to politely suggest we leave, trying to leave, and being asked to stay. Not sure that we handled ourselves in the most polite and culturally savvy way possible…but we made it through the night, and we all seem to be friends still, so I count that as a successful excursion.
Exciting news! I got to carry water today! The large cistern (the one with the fish, from which we draw water to shower) is filled every few days. I don’t understand the system of taking turns at the water tap. And from what I hear, none of the byu students have ever understood. But there’s a water spout just out on the road. It comes on occasionally, and when it does, the families in the surrounding area set out their little plastic pots to claim a spot in the water line. But not every time…I just don’t understand. Anyway! When it’s our turn, we get large plastic pots and carry them back and forth from the spout to the cistern. It’s a rather exciting ordeal. The little neighborhood girls laughed at us Americans who can’t carry our water properly. They laughed a lot. We’ll get better. I was excited to be able to sing the song from The Jungle Book (Father’s hunting in the forest/ Mother’s cooking in the home/ I must go to fetch the water…) and have it actually apply to the situation! I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for this opportunity. We actually really do enjoy carrying the water. And it will be a fun challenge to learn how to carry it like a little Indian girl, and not spill all over ourselves. (For those of you wondering, they actually do not carry the water on their heads…they hold it on their hips.)
What's "up?"
Well! I’ve been here just a few more days, and experienced just a few more things.
I have now experience doing laundry…Indian style. It’s hard. Let me just say that here, laundry and laziness do NOT mix. I used to complain about having to carrying laundry over to the mat, and remembering to go back to switch it (all right, in all honesty, I probably will complain about that again when I get back)…but we Americans have it so easy. To all the mothers out there…be glad you have a washing machine.
Remember that tub full of water (the one with the fish)? K, so you use a little dipper to fill two large buckets with water from that tub, and put some powder detergent in one, then stuff all your clothes into this bucket. After it’s sat for a while, you get a brick of detergent, and pull each item out one at a time, to scrub the problem spots with more detergent. Then you have to rinse most of that detergent out in the bucket of soapy water. Then comes the fun part. Once the item of clothing is sufficiently soaped down, you pull it out, wring it out, and proceed to beat it against a large, flat stone. This is what rids the clothes of the soap, and the dirt, and the body oils, etc. So it’s important to beat. HARD. I think it will be a while before I wear truly clean clothes again. Oh! So after you’ve beaten your clothes, you rinse them once again from the second bucket of water, then hang them to dry. Yeah…it’s intense.
I also went to church! I think most of you have heard by now that I’m staying at the branch president’s family. But his (it’s actually not even large enough to be a branch, it’s a group)…um, his group is only the very few members that live here in the village. It’s pretty much his family, the BYU students, and a sprinkling of a couple of other people (his sister…one neighborhood girl…). But three of the four of us BYU students need translators for our research, so we went to the city branch for networking purposes (I did find a translator, by the way!). It was SO good to see fellow members! A whole room full of them! Here, where daily we walking through crowds of people that we can’t understand, and who look so different from us, and who live such different lives…I think it’s good to be able to go to church with a group of them, and remember that they’re not so different as we sometimes make ourselves believe. And it helped that two of the three meetings were held in English, and there was a group of siblings from America that volunteer at a nearby orphanage.
I don’t think I’ve said much about the people here. They are so kind. I have already fallen in love with the Indian people. They are a very trusting people. In the buses (which are every bit as full as the trains in the bigger city were…I’ve decided that in order to be considered a true Indian man, you must first have the ability to hop on and off of a moving bus, and the ability to ride the outside of the bus), I’ve seen many women who don’t have much room hand whatever they’re carrying (be it books, purses…whatever), to somebody with more room. This transaction is done with very little verbal communication. The goods are most commonly simply placed on the lap of the unsuspecting caretaker, accepted, and then reclaimed in time to be carried off the bus with the proper owner. I think this small gesture actually exemplifies much of how Indians interact. They have some kind of unity that is foreign to us Americans.
When I first arrived in Chavadi, I mentioned that many of the school children followed us home. These children are the neighbors of my host family, and come here quite often. They have been the source of my first few henna tattoos (ball-point pen style), and have taught me many useful things (like how to say “beautiful” in Indian, and some of the meanings for some simple Indian symbols). One of the girls in our group has even been the subject of their hairdressing skills (it actually turned out pretty cute). In exchange, we have played with them, tried teaching them American songs that they don’t already know, and tried to teach them to greet each other with “What’s up” and leave with “Peace out.” For the longest time, whenever we tried to get them to say “what’s up” they would throw their hands in the air and tell us the Tamil word for “up.”
So now that I have a translator, my goal is to re-familiarize myself with my research and get a start on that this week! Wish me luck!
p.s. I think I now officially smell like an Indian (I’m sweating all those Indian spices…it’s great!).
I have now experience doing laundry…Indian style. It’s hard. Let me just say that here, laundry and laziness do NOT mix. I used to complain about having to carrying laundry over to the mat, and remembering to go back to switch it (all right, in all honesty, I probably will complain about that again when I get back)…but we Americans have it so easy. To all the mothers out there…be glad you have a washing machine.
Remember that tub full of water (the one with the fish)? K, so you use a little dipper to fill two large buckets with water from that tub, and put some powder detergent in one, then stuff all your clothes into this bucket. After it’s sat for a while, you get a brick of detergent, and pull each item out one at a time, to scrub the problem spots with more detergent. Then you have to rinse most of that detergent out in the bucket of soapy water. Then comes the fun part. Once the item of clothing is sufficiently soaped down, you pull it out, wring it out, and proceed to beat it against a large, flat stone. This is what rids the clothes of the soap, and the dirt, and the body oils, etc. So it’s important to beat. HARD. I think it will be a while before I wear truly clean clothes again. Oh! So after you’ve beaten your clothes, you rinse them once again from the second bucket of water, then hang them to dry. Yeah…it’s intense.
I also went to church! I think most of you have heard by now that I’m staying at the branch president’s family. But his (it’s actually not even large enough to be a branch, it’s a group)…um, his group is only the very few members that live here in the village. It’s pretty much his family, the BYU students, and a sprinkling of a couple of other people (his sister…one neighborhood girl…). But three of the four of us BYU students need translators for our research, so we went to the city branch for networking purposes (I did find a translator, by the way!). It was SO good to see fellow members! A whole room full of them! Here, where daily we walking through crowds of people that we can’t understand, and who look so different from us, and who live such different lives…I think it’s good to be able to go to church with a group of them, and remember that they’re not so different as we sometimes make ourselves believe. And it helped that two of the three meetings were held in English, and there was a group of siblings from America that volunteer at a nearby orphanage.
I don’t think I’ve said much about the people here. They are so kind. I have already fallen in love with the Indian people. They are a very trusting people. In the buses (which are every bit as full as the trains in the bigger city were…I’ve decided that in order to be considered a true Indian man, you must first have the ability to hop on and off of a moving bus, and the ability to ride the outside of the bus), I’ve seen many women who don’t have much room hand whatever they’re carrying (be it books, purses…whatever), to somebody with more room. This transaction is done with very little verbal communication. The goods are most commonly simply placed on the lap of the unsuspecting caretaker, accepted, and then reclaimed in time to be carried off the bus with the proper owner. I think this small gesture actually exemplifies much of how Indians interact. They have some kind of unity that is foreign to us Americans.
When I first arrived in Chavadi, I mentioned that many of the school children followed us home. These children are the neighbors of my host family, and come here quite often. They have been the source of my first few henna tattoos (ball-point pen style), and have taught me many useful things (like how to say “beautiful” in Indian, and some of the meanings for some simple Indian symbols). One of the girls in our group has even been the subject of their hairdressing skills (it actually turned out pretty cute). In exchange, we have played with them, tried teaching them American songs that they don’t already know, and tried to teach them to greet each other with “What’s up” and leave with “Peace out.” For the longest time, whenever we tried to get them to say “what’s up” they would throw their hands in the air and tell us the Tamil word for “up.”
So now that I have a translator, my goal is to re-familiarize myself with my research and get a start on that this week! Wish me luck!
p.s. I think I now officially smell like an Indian (I’m sweating all those Indian spices…it’s great!).
Fishy Water
Because we're still working on getting enough outfits and supplies, we've come to the city more often than will be the norm later in the semester. That means more frequent internet access!I've moved from the big city down to the village where I'll be staying for the next few months. We're staying with an LDS Indian family.
When we arrived in the village, on bus, from the nearby city, school had just let out, and all the children ran toward us, yelling "Hello, what's your name?' Interestingly, the next question was always "What's your father's name" followed immediately by "And your mother's name?" I still don't know why.
The children are all adorable! many of the girls in the village wear anklets around both feet, with little bells that jingle at every step. We've been told this is a symbol of being conservative. I've decided that my little girls will wear bells around their ankles.
When we got to Matthew and Jeeva's (our host and hostess), a few of the children tagged along with us. One of the little girls was actually the daughter (named Priya). The girls stayed and sang and danced some Tamil songs for us (Tamil is actually the language spoken in this state). They were so cute! And already so graceful! It must be a genetic thing...
The host family has three rooms and a small ktichen, all in a line, with a veranda down one length. outside the veranda is a small courtyard, and the outhouse/shower is on the other side. the room on the far end is reserved for field study students, so we crashed there for the night...on the concrete floor, with our little (very thin) mats. sleeping here will take some gettng used to. however, today I did go buy a pillow (which will helpa LOT) and a blanket. At night, the fan blows very hard, and it gets chilly, but without the fan it's too stuffy...so we all bought blankets.
Not much else has happened that's so new. The city here ismuch cleaner than the last big city (I was in chennai, now I'm inCoimbatore). It's still VERY hot and VERY humid, but in chennai, there was MUCH more smog, and every day, at the end of the day, we would have to clean off a rather thick layer of scum from our skin. Here, we don't get quite so dirty by just walking around. the majority of what we wash off is just our own sweat.
Washing! Washing is an experience. Oh...yeah...they use squatty potties here. I think of EVERYTHING in Japan, that was the one thing more than all else that I was not sad to say goodbye to. ...they're back. For a full three months.I'm also showering with a bucket. Oh! And we get the water for our showers from a large tank/bathtub thing that we fill whenever we can. and fish live in the tank. It's quite interesting to be scooping out water to use for cleansing purposes, while watching the fish swim around in there. they're really pretty fish! They keep the water clean by eating anything that would grow in it.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Alyssa's first experience with India
I'm in India, and I'm safe.
It's been SUCH an exciting day! I got here yesterday morning, early. After shopping around for a hotel room with the field facilitator (a fellow BYU student, but one who has been in the field before), we crashed for an hour before going to pick up one of the other students (I was the first to get there, nice and early at 5 am!). Then we all went shopping! Yay! I have a...oh dang...I've forgotten what it's called...but the local outfit that's not a sari. In the north it's called salwar camise, but it has a different name down here. Anyway! We found a shop, and we have our first outfit being made. We hope to pick it up today! As of right now, I'm still wearing the same skirt I put on Saturday morning (though I have different shirts, thank goodness. And I did buy the local pajamas...exciting. Like an Indian moo-moo. Kylie, you will LOVE it!)
There's been a lot to get used to. Many very new noises and very new smells. Many women buy strings of jasmine to put in their hair (I'd never noticed how very strong a fragrance it had before I noticed it above all the other smells). All the vehicles on the streets seem to feel the need to simply announce that they exist every few minutes, with a quick honk of the horn. The horns are all somewhat...cute-sounding, and together with the put-put of the rigsha's, and the yelling, and crows...it's all quite...new. I'm really adjusting well though, and am not bothered by any of it yet.
Well...ok, almost not bothered. Those anti-malarial pills are killer! I made the mistake of taking one BEFORE going out to breakfast, and let me tell you...all the way walking over to the little restaraunt, every smell suddenly churned my stomache. It's funny, there's an oddly sour smell that I hadn't picked up on yesterday.
The road system is quite unique here. There are two sides to all the major roads, with a clear division. This is heeded. Any lane markings aside from the one seem to be entirely disregarded. It seems that so long as you're on the correct side of the road, it's a free-for-all. Which works incredibly well. There are raod occupants of every size. Trucks and busses, actual cars, rigshaws, LOTS of little motorcycles, bikes, even pedestrians and sometimes dogs, all find their way through the road. They are incredible drivers. I wonder if the majority of stunt-drivers in the movies are Indian? In any case, they like to clump, and around any point where traffic slows or stops, traffic suddenly becomse a jigsaw puzzle, and it's every person's duty to find where they best fit, and they squeeze in wherever that happens to be.
The train is insane! Even tokyo trains, as often as they are compared with sardine cans, have nothing on the trains here in Chennai! Whenever possible, we look for the specifically designated women cars of the train. Even I feel more comfortable with those. It gets VERY packed.
I showered this morning! With my nifty bucket. It's been a while, and it was more difficult than I expected. In japan, they often showered with buckets, but when they did, they had little stools to sit on. I find it easier that way. I had to re-cleanse myself a few times before I got all the spots I'd missed (for Letitia's knowledge and comfort: I have not yet had to give up my toilet paper).
Oh! The rain! It's funny what little things in America we tend to take for granted (like toilet paper, for one)...such as drain systems. It rained yesterday. It POURED yesterday. And when it did, the streets were immediatedly ankle-deep in muddy, garbage-filled water (the trash is tossed into piles on teh side of the street and collected from there). You just have to not think about it and trudge on. Though, apparently many Indians think that if you get your head wet, you will get sick. so many of them seek shelter when it rains. However, with the millions of people that live in this small city, all shelter was very full, and we had things to do. so we trudged.
It's been SUCH an exciting day! I got here yesterday morning, early. After shopping around for a hotel room with the field facilitator (a fellow BYU student, but one who has been in the field before), we crashed for an hour before going to pick up one of the other students (I was the first to get there, nice and early at 5 am!). Then we all went shopping! Yay! I have a...oh dang...I've forgotten what it's called...but the local outfit that's not a sari. In the north it's called salwar camise, but it has a different name down here. Anyway! We found a shop, and we have our first outfit being made. We hope to pick it up today! As of right now, I'm still wearing the same skirt I put on Saturday morning (though I have different shirts, thank goodness. And I did buy the local pajamas...exciting. Like an Indian moo-moo. Kylie, you will LOVE it!)
There's been a lot to get used to. Many very new noises and very new smells. Many women buy strings of jasmine to put in their hair (I'd never noticed how very strong a fragrance it had before I noticed it above all the other smells). All the vehicles on the streets seem to feel the need to simply announce that they exist every few minutes, with a quick honk of the horn. The horns are all somewhat...cute-sounding, and together with the put-put of the rigsha's, and the yelling, and crows...it's all quite...new. I'm really adjusting well though, and am not bothered by any of it yet.
Well...ok, almost not bothered. Those anti-malarial pills are killer! I made the mistake of taking one BEFORE going out to breakfast, and let me tell you...all the way walking over to the little restaraunt, every smell suddenly churned my stomache. It's funny, there's an oddly sour smell that I hadn't picked up on yesterday.
The road system is quite unique here. There are two sides to all the major roads, with a clear division. This is heeded. Any lane markings aside from the one seem to be entirely disregarded. It seems that so long as you're on the correct side of the road, it's a free-for-all. Which works incredibly well. There are raod occupants of every size. Trucks and busses, actual cars, rigshaws, LOTS of little motorcycles, bikes, even pedestrians and sometimes dogs, all find their way through the road. They are incredible drivers. I wonder if the majority of stunt-drivers in the movies are Indian? In any case, they like to clump, and around any point where traffic slows or stops, traffic suddenly becomse a jigsaw puzzle, and it's every person's duty to find where they best fit, and they squeeze in wherever that happens to be.
The train is insane! Even tokyo trains, as often as they are compared with sardine cans, have nothing on the trains here in Chennai! Whenever possible, we look for the specifically designated women cars of the train. Even I feel more comfortable with those. It gets VERY packed.
I showered this morning! With my nifty bucket. It's been a while, and it was more difficult than I expected. In japan, they often showered with buckets, but when they did, they had little stools to sit on. I find it easier that way. I had to re-cleanse myself a few times before I got all the spots I'd missed (for Letitia's knowledge and comfort: I have not yet had to give up my toilet paper).
Oh! The rain! It's funny what little things in America we tend to take for granted (like toilet paper, for one)...such as drain systems. It rained yesterday. It POURED yesterday. And when it did, the streets were immediatedly ankle-deep in muddy, garbage-filled water (the trash is tossed into piles on teh side of the street and collected from there). You just have to not think about it and trudge on. Though, apparently many Indians think that if you get your head wet, you will get sick. so many of them seek shelter when it rains. However, with the millions of people that live in this small city, all shelter was very full, and we had things to do. so we trudged.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Like Eating Peanut Butter in India
So...I’ve got this thing. I tend to look forward with great anticipation toward the future. More specifically, I want to begin the next step in life. Always. From what I hear, this isn’t particularly uncommon, though I think, at times, I can take it to an unhealthy extreme. I have to be reminded to stop, take a breath, and enjoy life the way it is now.
Lately, there’s been a lot on my mind. I am in India. I have a full research project ahead of me. I have a Christmas break in England, a possible trip to Paris, a semester in the near future. I have a life ahead of me. And I’m excited for it! I look forward to my life. I’m ready to turn the next page in my life. I know what happens now. What happens next? I want to live. I want to experience the next step. I want to know what happens next.
Yesterday, I ate peanut butter. It was not an inherently incredible experience. Peanut butter is peanut butter. Granted, here in India, it’s difficult to acquire. It’s expensive. But it’s still peanut butter. But in that moment, I was able to forget what I was doing in the next few weeks and months. I was able to forget my impending research. I stopped making plans for Christmas break. I stopped wondering about next semester’s classes. I sat on my cement floor, and I ate my peanut butter.
It was as if the peanut butter acted as a mental relaxant, and I was calm. All unnecessary knowledge dribbled out. I didn’t feel the urge to think about my future life. I didn’t have to predict where I’ll be in five weeks, or next semester, or two years from now…twenty years…I knew where I was, I knew where the peanut butter was, and I was happy. It was enough.
It may seem strange, but to me (and this is, after all, my blog), this is what blogging should be about. It’s about snapshots in your life, and in your thoughts. It’s about the times you forget context, you forget surroundings, and just contemplate. It’s about the times you take out of life to live. It’s about the little moments. It’s about eating peanut butter in India.
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