Thursday, April 2, 2009
Five weeks since my return, and I'm still adjusting. In its retelling, I've noticed how the experience has translated into something quantifiable, into a six month period equal to one winter, one semester, one short period in time. And yet looking back it seems to me so far removed from my life here that it can hardly be one and the same. Only five weeks since my return and my experience there feels like a parallel life, perhaps a feeling made stronger by the sense that Varanasi is in fact another planet in itself.
Since being back I've come to realize just how Canadian I am, and what that means. But now that I'm back, I can't say that I have much perspective on the thoughts and emotions that have greeted me here. It's strange to be back. I find myself wondering what to do and where to go with a curious lack of my old sense of purpose. I simply can't pick up where I left off, or assume the same behaviours or reactions that I had before going away. The truth is, this comforts me. On a personal level, this was my primary objective - to be changed, to be altered, to be affected by the world. Knowing that there's a whole other way of life out there, somewhere on the banks of Ganga in a small world called Varanasi, has split my sense of reality in two. Being back here, I think, is about reconciling those two realities, and finding my place within it.
Although I'm a little bit restless and disoriented these days, I'm as curious and as present as ever. The honest truth is that I'm happy. I know this for sure.
Other impressions:
- It's quiet in Canada. Really, really quiet. I know you're probably thinking that I'm in a prairie town or something, but no, I'm in downtown Toronto (aka downtown Canada) and it is quiet.
- I'm invisible. I blend in. I like blending in. It's nice.
- I love walking around this city. Aimless, curious, endless walks are the best.
- I miss Meera ji's food. I've had way too many lokhi cravings since I've been back.
- It's cold. At first, it was REALLY cold. It took me at least a week or so to get used to it, but now I'm okay. Still though, I'm ready for the warm weather.
- Canada has so much stuff. Lots and lots and lots of stuff. Not just the endless row of stores selling useless overpriced brand name stuff, but actual stuff that people use. If I need something and take a look around me, it'll probably be there. And most likely, in abundance. Canada is hoarding useful stuff.
- streetcars are fun, but why does everyone have to wear black?
- I love salad. I really, really love salad
- I opened my Hindi notebooks for the first time a couple days ago. I don't know what I was waiting for. I love it, especially the script.
- Petting dogs! Six months of pent up dog loving is now being released on the dog population of Toronto.
- I love being home.
- I've already started wondering when I'll go back.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
What Next?
Being back in
The experience has been so great that I have agreed to sign on for another five months. This entailed some drastic last minute changes to my life. I had initially been planning to go right back to teaching at the end of my internship but when the possibility of working at WLC presented itself I quickly jumped on it. I had to do some fumbling to try to get an extension on my leave of absence, for which I had already missed the deadline, with the school board that I work for and it also meant I would be taking a big pay cut. It all worked out in the end because I knew this was an opportunity of a life time. So far this internship has given me the chance to accomplish some personal and professional goals that I thought I would really never get to (such as going to
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Slumdog Millionaire at IP Mall
Just a few days prior to our departure from Banaras, the other interns and I decided to take the high school kids that we tutor to see a movie as a goodbye outing. We assumed that the kids would want to see a Bollywood movie, which we thought might be a fun way to test our Hindi after having studied it for six months. Instead, the kids were all very interested in seeing Slumdog Millionaire, since it was drawing a lot of attention the world over. "Because, didi," my student Pooja said to me, "this is very famous movie about India."
On the day of the movie, the eight of us (five students and three didis) crammed into a couple of autorickshaws and headed to IP Mall. The movie was playing in one of Varanasi's only air-conditioned theatres, equipped with deliciously comfortable reclining chairs. Our students were extremely excited to be there; none of them had every been to the mall or to that theatre before, and seeing a movie was clearly considered a very special treat. I don't think that it would be flattering our vanity too much to say that the opportunity to socialize with their three Canadian didis made the outing all the more special for the kids.
Like all movies that play in Banaras, the movie was in Hindi. That meant that the English parts of the movie were dubbed over, and the subtitles during the Hindi parts of the movie were taken out. But between our minimal Hindi knowledge, our ability to read visual cues, and the opportunity to ask questions of our students, we were able to get the gist of the story.
I think it's fair to say that we all enjoyed the movie. The kids were excited to see an artful and critically-acclaimed movie that drew the world's attention to their own country. I was delighted by the experience of seeing a movie set in the country that had finally begun to feel familiar--just as I was getting ready to leave it. Perhaps the most thrilling aspect of the whole experience was the opportunity to compare the kids who accompanied us with the kids being portrayed in the film. Our students, in addition to many other kids on WLC scholarships, come from very poor homes. Many of them live with their families in one-room houses in slums, many of them have already had to work, often selling candles and postcards to tourists, but the difference is that they're all being educated at good schools thanks to unfamiliar donors across the world.
After the movie, we all headed over to McDonald's for lunch--something of novelty in Banaras. Then we hung around the mall eating ice cream, playing video games, and people-watching.
All in all, the outing felt like the perfect way to end our tutoring sessions. Our students are a group of tremendously bright, respectful, compassionate, and hardworking young people, and I already miss them dearly. I only hope that our goodbye outing was as memorable for them as it was for me.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The faces of the Scholarship program
It has been an interesting journey visiting 145 homes and drinking that many cups of chai and eating twice as many Parle-G biscuits (staple snack of India) offered by the hospitable parents of these children (it is customary in India to offer visitors something to eat and drink, no matter how poor the home is and it is extremely rude not to accept the offering even if you have been to five other homes that day and already drank 5 cups of chai and ate 10 biscuits). The families and homes come in every size and variation ranging from cement homes with television sets to plastic covers stretched over poles on the ghat. Each of these families has a unique story and I have been humbled beyond measure hearing each and every one of them.
Two scholarship children who have a very special place in my heart (only because I see them all the time around Assi Ghat) are Richa Gaur and Sonu Sahani. Both are approximately between the ages of 10-12 (it’s hard to say how old children are because parents rarely keep track and documentation of births is spotty). These children live very close to the Ganga Mahal and it’s hard to go a day without seeing one or both of them going about their lives. Our initial meeting involved both of them trying to hustle me with sales for candles. Many of the children living on the ghats sell candles to tourists, who then light and float the candles into the Ganga for good luck. Both of these kids are up early in the morning selling their candles, getting ready for school coming home, attending their tutorial sessions, doing their homework and then selling their candles again in the evening. At first it was difficult for me to digest the idea of children working for their family’s livelihood. But after being here for six months I have learned that my concept of what is right and wrong is often relative and context dependent.
Over the last six months my relationship with the Sonu and Richa has gone from “didi candle?” to a polite “didi namaste” (didi=sister), thanks to the currency of working for WLC. Richa literally lives right beneath our balcony. Her father runs a tea stall on Assi Ghat and the whole family lives and works under a makeshift home composed of four poles and a plastic cover built adjacent to the Ganga Mahal building. It is hard to imagine living like this, completely exposed to the elements with no privacy, but this is their reality. Despite their living conditions, the family lives with great dignity, keeping their little space as clean as a whistle and religiously sweeping their section of the ghat every morning.
Sometimes when I wake up in the morning to watch the sun come up from the balcony I often see Richa combing her hair and getting ready for school. You could never tell that she lives under a shack by the river if you saw her in her school uniform. The uniform is treated with the greatest respect, always kept tidy and pressed. For me, the uniform is a symbol of hope that one day she and her family won’t have to live under a shack.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Meeraji
For a Westerner, living in India for six months can prove to be challenging in many ways. There are many social, cultural, personal and gastrointestinal difficulties that one encounters on a daily basis. Being away from family and friends and your home is more difficult on some days than others and it helps to be surrounded by a good circle of people to get you through the more difficult days. One such person who has been an important part of bringing a smile to my face everyday is Meeraji. Meeraji has been with WLC for many years. She is a co-worker who is responsible for the daily running of the Ganga Mahal, the building that the WLC operates out of in
To many of the staff Meeraji is also a strong maternal figure. She is always called on to hand out the sweets to children at special events and I have often observed staff members heading into the kitchen to have their daily chat with Meeraji (she is apparently a great story teller). Over the last six months she has become my surrogate mother too. Each morning I wait to hear the soft tread of her feet as she brings in our morning chai (on a silver platter if you can believe) and as
It’s hard not to fall in love with Meeraji; her soft gentle nature has a soothing influence on the most difficult situations. She is often the one that is putting our minds at ease during the various mini crises that have taken place, including frequently reoccurring gastrointestinal issues, colds, water shortages, power outages, strangers showing up at our door and for me personally swarms of locusts and various other seasonal insects. And despite the obvious language barrier she always manages to make me feel better. These last six months just could not have been as comfortable and enjoyable without her.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Not Your Ordinary Set of Wheels...
In partnership with Rotary International, WLC's mobile library is just what it sounds like. Yep, a library on wheels. We're talking 4 wheels and hundreds of books, rolling in and around Varanasi, 5 days a week. Running since August of '08, the mobile library is a popular new addition to WLC's programming, and it's not hard to see why. As a natural extension of WLC's library services, the mobile library is a straight forward outreach program that services all people interested in books, no matter their age, sex, caste, or religion.
Manned by the ever amiable Uttam - driver, librarian, and community networker - the mobile library has become a fixture on the dusty roads around Banaras. Easily out-flanking all other versions of traffic in Varanasi (auto/cycle rickshaw, bicycle, motorbike, goat, cow, and anything else with legs or wheels) the van is imposing and instantly recognizable. As for me, well, I'm the "white foreigner-girl" who gets to go with Uttam from time to time, and it's so far been one of the most interesting aspects of my job.
After pulling onto a dusty village road and parking the van, it's usually only a matter of seconds before someone is asking Uttam for a book, or showing him a drawing they've drawn for him since his last weekly visit. I help out by hopping into the back of the van - the library - to tidy the bookshelves and choose which books to display. I like sitting there, on my spare tire-turned-stool, not only because it shelters me from the hot sun, but because it gives me a great view of the mobile library in action. From that vantage point I get the pleasure of seeing all kinds of faces considering our books on display. From serious looking men searching for a book on a specific topic, to tiny hands trying their hardest to pull a pair of curious eyes up to the counter - all are interested, and none go away empty-handed.
Uttam has developed great relationships with the kids in our field areas by encouraging them to read, to draw, and to play with educational toys. In fact, no field visit is complete without handing out sheets of paper and supplies to these budding artists. Sometimes we hold drawing competitions on site, and sometimes they work on their creations all week until our next visit. Although I like the drawing competitions, I have a soft spot for the drawings done at home. Perhaps it's because I loved to while away hours and hours drawing as a child, and I was never without a rainbow of colours and stacks of paper to do just that. I realize now that I was a lucky kid, not just for the food, shelter, education, and love (although that's alot), but also for the privilege of losing myself in my imagination, and for having so many tools to do that. Whenever Uttam enthusiastically unrolls a new creation and I see that proud smile light up the artist's face, I like to imagine that little person when she created it. Sprawled out on the ground and eyes focused on her blank canvas, her mind might have been freed from her everyday thoughts. Maybe she was captured by the floating images of her mind, at least for a little while. Some might say it's unrealistic, and others might think it trite, but it's something that I hold dear as a special privilege of childhood.
Capturing children's imagination is something that the mobile library does by offering a simple yet invaluable opportunity: a space and the materials to read, to be creative, and to play. But by equally feeding the curiosity of young adults and serving the elderly's need for stimulating diversion, the mobile library is a not only a van full of books, it's an open space that belongs to any person who's interested in learning. To me, the mobile library is a wonderful example of just how effective a development initiative can be when it sticks to the basics: Identify the need, provide the people a reliable opportunity to fill that gap, and let the community do the rest. After many years of studying development and noting how easy it is to stray from this simple formula, I know that I am privileged to witness it, and proud to be a part of it.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Why Education Empowers Women
Hello again, dear readers!
Lately, I have been spending a lot of time working on the upcoming issue of Akshar, WLC’s annual magazine. This year’s issue will focus on the question of women’s empowerment, a concept that has always stood at the heart of WLC’s programming.
Women gathering to celebrate International Literacy Day
In order to learn more about how women at various levels of our organization feel empowered by their connection to WLC, I have been conducting interviews with women at many different project sites in and around
If I started out by asking simple questions eliciting straightforward answers, I have more recently become fascinated by questions that begin with the word “why.” Of course every woman I interview is delighted by the educational opportunities that have been afforded to her and her children, but why do they think it is so important to become educated? Why do male stakeholders want to educate their daughters?
The answers that I’ve received are as humbling as they are intriguing. Saroj, a teacher from Lallapura (an area in which one of WLC’s Urban Community Projects is run) told me that before becoming literate she used to stay in her house all the time, cooking and cleaning and caring for her family. Her entire world was contained within that house. Now, she feels aware of her surroundings and connected to the world in which she lives. Furthermore, she now understands what happens when she sends her kids to school: previously, school was an abstract, vaguely positive concept of which she had no real understanding. She knew that sending her children to school was her maternal responsibility, but she didn’t know why until she started becoming educated herself.
Similarly, I spoke with my English student Pooja, 15, about how it feels to see her mother becoming literate. Pooja goes to a reputable school on a WLC scholarship, but her parents are poor and her mother’s only education has come from her WLC-run adult literacy class. Pooja told me that now her mother takes an active interest in her education, and she has a clearer conception of what Pooja is doing in school. Learning has become an area of shared interest between mother and daughter.
When I asked a similar question to Manorama, a Mahila Mandal president from NGO partner SSSS, she told me that an educated woman can support her family in a crisis. When a woman is illiterate and uneducated, no one asks her opinion or seeks her advice, and her experience of the world, generally limited to domestic matters, inhibits her from making important decisions related to the family’s welfare. An educated woman, however, is both respected and contributive—her advice is heeded and her voice is heard.
Manorama (centre) with mother-in-law and daughter
Coming to
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Karate and Kabaddi- empowering women through sports
Yesterday I saw my first women’s Kabaddi game and it was amazing! While on a routine NGO visit we were asked by our co-workers if we wanted to see a Kabbadi practice. We arrived on a dry open field with clouds of dust surrounding a crowd. Young girls and women, dressed in white shalwars kameezes, their scarves tied warrior like across their bodies, ran barefoot hither and thither pulling and wrestling each other to the ground. They passed and parried, danced with the grace of a Capoeira fighter, as they faked and moved in for the attack only to be tackled down into the dusty ground by their opponent. I was immediately fascinated and felt the urge to join them.
To see women, who usually have their heads covered even in their homes, running around under the hot Indian sun playing Kabaddi and seriously playing it too, was an incredible display of what WLC is doing in
Sunday, January 18, 2009
WLC goes to the Himalayas
From Gangtok we went even further up north to Lachung, a hillstation in North Sikkim near the Indo-Chinese border. In Lachung we made a bonfire, sang songs, and had an impromptu dance party. It was such a treat to let loose and be silly together, and in such a magnificent setting no less. The night ended along with the firewood, although sleep didn't come quite as easily. It was so cold! Oh my god it was cold...I wish I could say that I have some kind of Winnipeg-powered forcefield that enabled me to absorb that kind of cold, but alas, I froze along with everyone else. Cursing and longing for central heating (I blame it for my wimpiness) Melissa and I cemented our friendship by shamelessly using one another as human heating units in our shared bed. At one point our heating method consisted of some tentative experiments in kicking and rubbing our feet against one another. Our conclusion? Good for some giggles, though perhaps not the greatest long-term solution (hey, you never know...)
The next day we began our drive up to the Yum Thang valley. The drive itself was absolutely breathtaking. With the Teesta river flowing in the valley below, gorgeous clear blue sky above, and mind blowing mountains flanking us on all sides, I felt about as lucky as I ever had. I mean, was I really there? Eventually, we were forced to stop short of our destination due to poor road conditions, but this didn't prevent everyone from having a blast climbing hills and throwing themselves (and others!) in the snow. Looking at my coworkers frolicking in the snow (and some for the very first time!), covered head to toe in snow and each looking happier than the next, I was reminded of how fun winter can be, if you let it. Following their lead, I promptly reverted back to my 8-year old self and initiated Pravin in the joys and tribulations of the Winnipeg schoolyard recess: the facewash. Throw in a snow angel or two, a snowman, and a couple snowballs, and we might as well have been waiting for the school bus to pick us up after school.
From Sikkim we then turned southward to Kolkata. After an exciting nail biter of a journey from Gangtok to the train station (an adventure worthy of another 1000 words), we took another overnight train to Kolkata. Once there we embarked on a journey to Ganga Sagar, the confluence point of the Ganges river and the Indian Ocean. As a major Hindu pilgrimage sight, this was obviously a much anticipated journey for most of WLC's staff, and a privileged opportunity for me to witness a meaningful spiritual ritual. Bathed by the sun's rays and showcasing a canvas of milky greys and pinks, Ganga Sagar was a surprisingly serene place to reflect, to bathe, or simply be. Amidst laughter and playfulness, nearly everyone took their bath within an hour or two, and all emerged refreshed and in good spirits. After a lightning fast pit stop at the temple we hurried back to catch our ferry, where we were met by a tiny glimpse into the life of a pilgrim. This is hard to convey to the average Canadian - used to our picture perfect queues and people excusing themselves when we bump into them - but the ramp leading up to the ferry was essentially a free for all. Push or be pushed, this was the ticket to getting on that boat. in a situation like that many people could be scared or stressed, but not WLC's staff. Nope, everyone was in high spirits, playfully teasing one another by secretly pulling one another's shawls, hats, and scarves when they weren't looking. With all that laughter, food passed around overhead, and the general sense of ease that everyone clearly had, it was actually pretty fun. Although I'm sure my mom still doesn't like the sound of it...:)
In Kolkata we visited the Victoria Memorial, Science City, did some shopping, had an excellent feast, and best of all, went to the Kalighat Temple. That was for me one of the most powerful experiences I've had in India so far, and I doubt that I will ever forget it. Walking barefoot through filthy alleyways towards the temple, pushing my way forward with pilgrims and coworkers by my side, I eventually found myself squeezed through a narrow doorway into a courtyard thick with incense and bodies. Following the circuit into the temple we witnessed the rare sacrificial killing of a goat, after which I was lead up some stairs into a room crammed with bodies and spiritual energy. People broke into a song, flowers flew above, and bells clanged madly as everyone pulsated towards the Kali idol in the centre of the temple. Feeling Pravin's pull, Thursica and I suddenly found ourselves in the throngs of people no longer pushing in but pushing out. On the street again and strolling at a snail's pace, the walk back was almost just as good as being inside the temple. Quietly smiling to myself, it was a moment where I stopped long enough to realize that I had been relishing the privilege of sharing this experience with the rest of the staff. I think it was then that it became clear to me that this staff retreat had not only allowed me to explore India and forge stronger relationships with my coworkers, but it also took me for a ride through Indian culture and spirituality that I could have never done on my own.
On one of our last nights together, Neetu, Bhavana, and Melissa and I were walking together towards our string of vehicles, and Bhavana said to us that this would surely be an adventure that we would never forget. Giggling, the four of us agreed. It was exciting, moving, at times hilarious, and an experience unlike any other. It's my first staff retreat, but I'd definitely venture to say that it's the best one yet :)
Saturday, January 17, 2009
"Field" Work
One of the most eye opening experiences of this internship has been doing field work in the rural farming communities of UP. WLC partners with seven local NGO’s to run programming in inaccessible rural areas of UP. It usually takes less than five hours to drive to these sites from
The work done here is even more valuable because the people in these communities are at a greater risk of illiteracy and neglect as result of their isolation from large cities. The age of marriage is usually lower here. I saw many young girls, most no older than fifteen, with streaks of red vermilion powder in the parts of their hair, a symbol of marriage. But what gave me hope was that most of these young girls were enrolled in our Adult Literacy Classes. They had made a conscience choice to become literate and their families were supporting them by allowing them to attend the class. Many of these young girls took part in the government certified literacy test that WLC administered in