Oh man, I'm getting more and more homesick every minute. I'm feeling kind of nautious from the smell of urine, boiling fat, and some tragic mix of easy-listening Hindi jazz coming over the radio. The bus ride was a crowded hour and a half--a woman who was being crushed in the aisle deposited her adorable children on my lap. The smallest, a baby, had a tumor the size of a plum on the back of its head. The health system here is absolutely atrocious. I've been trying to get my frien RamRai the right attention for the gaping wound on his leg but the government hospital seems like nothing but a great place to get an infection. Gloves? what are gloves? We've been visiting the homes of people who have died pretty frequently to pay our respects to one elder or another...My friend Shyamji has the unfortunate tradition in his village that every time a man dies, all of the men who are younger have to shave their heads. So he's never happy with his haircut. He asked me to bring him a wig from the city, but I've pointed him in the direction of baseball caps instead.
Speaking of hats, by some strange twist of fate a strain of neon fabrics have entered the local market, so a lot of the farmers wear hot pink and hot orange turbans out in the fields. I've interviewed a few people who have worked as bonded laborers... Some of them are really grateful to have been released, but others miss the steady income of Rs 6000 ($10/month) and the guarantee of some kind of food, no matter how bad, on their plates. Poverty is not good. I've started thinking that a lot of the pity that we westerners have for those who have less is unwarranted. It's silly to pity someone for not having a floor--it's like pitying someone for not having a corvette or a swimming pool. I guess the only real conclusion I've come to is that even though poverty is awful, the greatest joy that anyone can have is to be happy in spite of their chains. And that applies to everyone in the universe, no matter their income.
Madhu is amazing; I"m so lucky to get to whisper with her every night. She is trying to start a girls' youth group that would inform them about their legal rights as women. She is ashamed of herself for getting married, because it would have been a great way to set an example in saying that you don't need a husband. Marriage is really crippling for women here. It's sad to get to know all of these young, energetic girls and know that soon they'll be married and made ot sit in silence ein the corner making chapati from behind a veil.
It's starting to drive me crazy having people tell me what to eat and how much and where to sleep and what to do and that I can't go into town by myself all the time. A few days ago I drank some bad water, and they insisted that eating would help and shoved a bunch of chilles swimming in oil in my direction. When I said that I'd rather not, they wanted me to have Chaach, a mixture of buttermilk, yogurt, salt, and lemon. Bah! Humbug! Help! Actually, they're just very caring and hospitable and I'm just looking for a reason to complain because I'm feeling like Little Miss Crabby Pants.
Khemraj has told me that I should neglect my obligations to airplanes and just stay and work here. He is right in his assertion that a bachelor's degree will do virtually nothing to help my understanding of the world. I'm not very tempted, but it's a thought-provoking notion. It's strange, though, because I'm never quite the free spirit I get to be at home while I'm here...if it were acceptable, I would have jumped in the temple's well naked a long time ago. And my initial romanticized views of the organization have changed as more and more of the inter-personal drama has been revealed to me. If this place can't escape the irritating problems of bureacratic inefficiency, lack of funding, lack of consensus, bad coffee, gossip, etc., then no non-profit can. I was wrong to think that there is someplace in the world where morals pave a clear path for do-gooders. We're all doomed to hack our way through the brambles in order to try and accomlish anything at all. Actually, it's a pretty comforting notion, I think, because wherever I go, wherever I work, when these things get in the way I won't have that itching feeling that somwhere else would be better. As an intern with no language skills, I have surrendered myself to feeling slightly useless and now and enjoying the ride. I'm glad I have some college credit as an excuse to do so.
I saw a sign for a "Fool Body Massage." I should start keeping a written record of all the priceless mistranslations around here. Headed to Delhi for the India Social Forum tonight with Karun and Pankach--it should be a really great bus ride!
Speaking of hats, by some strange twist of fate a strain of neon fabrics have entered the local market, so a lot of the farmers wear hot pink and hot orange turbans out in the fields. I've interviewed a few people who have worked as bonded laborers... Some of them are really grateful to have been released, but others miss the steady income of Rs 6000 ($10/month) and the guarantee of some kind of food, no matter how bad, on their plates. Poverty is not good. I've started thinking that a lot of the pity that we westerners have for those who have less is unwarranted. It's silly to pity someone for not having a floor--it's like pitying someone for not having a corvette or a swimming pool. I guess the only real conclusion I've come to is that even though poverty is awful, the greatest joy that anyone can have is to be happy in spite of their chains. And that applies to everyone in the universe, no matter their income.
Madhu is amazing; I"m so lucky to get to whisper with her every night. She is trying to start a girls' youth group that would inform them about their legal rights as women. She is ashamed of herself for getting married, because it would have been a great way to set an example in saying that you don't need a husband. Marriage is really crippling for women here. It's sad to get to know all of these young, energetic girls and know that soon they'll be married and made ot sit in silence ein the corner making chapati from behind a veil.
It's starting to drive me crazy having people tell me what to eat and how much and where to sleep and what to do and that I can't go into town by myself all the time. A few days ago I drank some bad water, and they insisted that eating would help and shoved a bunch of chilles swimming in oil in my direction. When I said that I'd rather not, they wanted me to have Chaach, a mixture of buttermilk, yogurt, salt, and lemon. Bah! Humbug! Help! Actually, they're just very caring and hospitable and I'm just looking for a reason to complain because I'm feeling like Little Miss Crabby Pants.
Khemraj has told me that I should neglect my obligations to airplanes and just stay and work here. He is right in his assertion that a bachelor's degree will do virtually nothing to help my understanding of the world. I'm not very tempted, but it's a thought-provoking notion. It's strange, though, because I'm never quite the free spirit I get to be at home while I'm here...if it were acceptable, I would have jumped in the temple's well naked a long time ago. And my initial romanticized views of the organization have changed as more and more of the inter-personal drama has been revealed to me. If this place can't escape the irritating problems of bureacratic inefficiency, lack of funding, lack of consensus, bad coffee, gossip, etc., then no non-profit can. I was wrong to think that there is someplace in the world where morals pave a clear path for do-gooders. We're all doomed to hack our way through the brambles in order to try and accomlish anything at all. Actually, it's a pretty comforting notion, I think, because wherever I go, wherever I work, when these things get in the way I won't have that itching feeling that somwhere else would be better. As an intern with no language skills, I have surrendered myself to feeling slightly useless and now and enjoying the ride. I'm glad I have some college credit as an excuse to do so.
I saw a sign for a "Fool Body Massage." I should start keeping a written record of all the priceless mistranslations around here. Headed to Delhi for the India Social Forum tonight with Karun and Pankach--it should be a really great bus ride!
posted by Sandy at 11:51 PM
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