We visited a self-help group meeting in a nearby village. We got out of a truck and entered a dimly lit temple, where about ten or so women were seated against a wall. Without warning, they burst into a religious song. Looking over at the windows, we saw that a crowd of men and children had gathered in either of the square glassless windows at the temple. Doug and I were told that it was because we were visiting, that such a crowd had gathered. The group we were visiting has been together for sixteen years.
The members each introduced themselves and any relevant title. We learned earlier that day that the leader(s) of the group are only known as representative and do not have titles like “president” etc., so that there is no contention amongst the group. We also introduced ourselves, and where we were from. (It's really interesting they always introduce me as "Veena Madame.")
The meeting progressed, as each woman came forward with her loan repayment and savings contribution. One woman explained how they always seat themselves in order of their passbook number. They also explained how the elected chairperson of the meeting is the one who collects the money and mediates the meeting. They use their passbook numbers as an indication of who will be each week’s chairperson. They also mentioned that 2-3 people are trained to write the books and keep records to ensure that if there are absences, that records are accurately recorded.
There are fees associated with not contributing a savings or loan payment; 20 rupees for loans, 5 rupees for savings. The interest rate on loans is 24 percent. This, we were told is common for most mature SHG groups. Including a loan from Sanghamithra (Myrada’s MFI group-lending arm) the group has taken nearly 4 lakhs.
We also came to know that they had some small business ventures as a group. First, they purchased large cooking vessels by taking a bank loan of 13,000 rupees. Now, they are able to rent out the vessels to anyone in their village for special occasions like weddings. The group member who maintains these vessels also receives 20 rupees a month. The group also purchased 10 rams that was raised by one member, who received 25% of the cost after the rams were raised and sold to other people. The group got the other 75%. I felt that this group was really enterprising and seemed to be very cohesive.
In addition, they have contributed to the building of a temple and
We then talked with the women about their loan usage. The pattern of loan usage seems to generally follow a pattern of “consumption, production and asset creation,” according to Myrada officials. Loans were taken out for "bore wells, petty shops, house repairs, fencing, horticulture, mangos, seeds/fertilizer, sewing machines, cows, bullocks, flower businesses and irrigation." Most of the dropouts from the group are due to migration and marriage, not the reasons that we had initially expected like bad group dynamic etc.
Finally, the women managed to band together to get rid of an arekka (alcohol) shop in the village. They banded together to contribute the 7000 rupees that the alcohol shop was paying for the funding of a local temple.
Okay more on this stuff later.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
It's a bug's life
Well after meeting with Myrada on Monday, we decided we would head up to Chitradurga on Tuesday morning. Tuesday, we got everything together, purchased bus tickets in advance and made our way to the bus station. En route we stopped to get coffee which took longer than it should have (while Cafe Coffee Day has a similar menu to Starbucks, they have not quite mastered the efficiency that comes along with receiving a cafe mocha in under 2 minutes). Suddenly we were rushed to take an auto towards the Magestic Bus Station, which was a 30 minute ride away. We hopped in an auto and he slowly made his way to the bus station. When we got there, we had five minutes before our bus. We got to platform 1 and asked someone if they knew which of the buses was embarking for Chitradurga, he gestured that we had to go back to platform three. We found the conductor yelling "durga durga durga!" and hopped on the bus. About ten or fifteen minutes later when we presented our ticket, the bus conductor laughed, " this is the karnataka state transport (KST) you have to buy a ticket for this bus."
Traveler's note: while the bus system in Karnataka is thorough, it is really confusing as to which bus you are taking; the type, the time, the route. You could have a volvo option (which I know now means a private A/C bus) or you could take the KST bus, which usually has more stops and as I was told many times "no reclining seats!"
Well instead of starting over, we stayed on our existing bus and rode for almost five hours until we reached Chitradurga Station. We then took an auto and met our contact at the Myrada office, Mr. Vijay Kumar. He was really enthusiastic and walked us through the general framework of Myrada's SHGs (self help groups). Something interesting we learned was about the way in which federations (organized groups of SHGs) and RC's (resource centers) interact and allow Myrada to have an "invisible" hand in the SHG work. After about an hour, we hopped in a jeep, driven by Rafiq (also known as Rafi), and headed to dinner at a hotel. (Travelers note: In India, eating at a hotel is actually eating at a restaurant or possibly a hotel with restaurant attached.) I had a sweet corn soup and aloo gobi and naan. (I only wrote this here to show how vivid my memory has become since I got to India!)
In any case, after making a quick stop at Mr. Kumar's house for his travel pack and at Rafi's to drop him home, we headed towards Holalkere, which is where the Myrada training center was located. We arrived and were greeted by two or three men who helped us take our bags to our cottages. I opened the door to my room and was met with a scene from "It's a Bug's Life." There were flying beetles, mosquitos, and giant spiders with the longest legs I had ever seen in every corner of the room. I immediately had a panic attack and did not know what to do, I had never felt so overwhelmed by such tiny things! I ran over to Doug's room and rapped on the door frantically, "Is your room filled with bugs!?" He was happily sitting on his bed and laughed "they don't seem to bother me." Upon closer inspection, I could see that he did not have hardly as many bugs as I had in my room and the ones that were there did not seem to bother him. He said that he would trade with me, but I felt that if I was going to be scared of bugs, then there was not much hope for me over the next few weeks, because bugs (innocuous at that) were a lot less significant than some other things. I am proud to say I did not kill a single one. Instead, I talked out loud to the spiders, the pallis (small harmless lizards -- yes akka there are TONS!), beetles, and random bugs I had never even seen before. I got dressed, too scared to take a shower and jumped underneath my mosquito net, after making sure that the spots on my net were not moving. At first, I was frightened of sleeping, I could hear the beetles bumping into the wall, the flies whirring around and probably the pitter patter of a small palli's feet. The net thing I knew, it was 7:30am.
When I awoke the next morning, I continued my strange tradition. I began to check each corner of the rooms and speak out loud to the bugs. The worst was in the bathroom because the windows are not closed, there are just metal bars, so anything that can fit, can fly in and out. I kept an eye on each giant spider, each mosquito, everything as I cautiously filled my bucket with hot water and finished my bath.
When I returned later in the afternoon, I went to use the sink when I saw the BIGGEST cockroach I have ever seen in my life. I started throwing water on him and screaming at the top of my lungs. I felt like I was trapped in the corner and I could feel the spiders in the corners just laughing at me. I threw some more water at the cockroach and darted through the bathroom door and slammed it shut. My heart was beating fast and my face was flush, I yelled out loud "okay! you got me, I'm scared!"
The first few days on this campus were really rough; I was constantly talking out loud, trying to negotiate with bugs that don't actually respond or care and trying to slowly get myself to just relax and remember that nothing here, except the mosquitos were really interested in biting me. (Or so thats the line I was fed ;)... )
Traveler's note: while the bus system in Karnataka is thorough, it is really confusing as to which bus you are taking; the type, the time, the route. You could have a volvo option (which I know now means a private A/C bus) or you could take the KST bus, which usually has more stops and as I was told many times "no reclining seats!"
Well instead of starting over, we stayed on our existing bus and rode for almost five hours until we reached Chitradurga Station. We then took an auto and met our contact at the Myrada office, Mr. Vijay Kumar. He was really enthusiastic and walked us through the general framework of Myrada's SHGs (self help groups). Something interesting we learned was about the way in which federations (organized groups of SHGs) and RC's (resource centers) interact and allow Myrada to have an "invisible" hand in the SHG work. After about an hour, we hopped in a jeep, driven by Rafiq (also known as Rafi), and headed to dinner at a hotel. (Travelers note: In India, eating at a hotel is actually eating at a restaurant or possibly a hotel with restaurant attached.) I had a sweet corn soup and aloo gobi and naan. (I only wrote this here to show how vivid my memory has become since I got to India!)
In any case, after making a quick stop at Mr. Kumar's house for his travel pack and at Rafi's to drop him home, we headed towards Holalkere, which is where the Myrada training center was located. We arrived and were greeted by two or three men who helped us take our bags to our cottages. I opened the door to my room and was met with a scene from "It's a Bug's Life." There were flying beetles, mosquitos, and giant spiders with the longest legs I had ever seen in every corner of the room. I immediately had a panic attack and did not know what to do, I had never felt so overwhelmed by such tiny things! I ran over to Doug's room and rapped on the door frantically, "Is your room filled with bugs!?" He was happily sitting on his bed and laughed "they don't seem to bother me." Upon closer inspection, I could see that he did not have hardly as many bugs as I had in my room and the ones that were there did not seem to bother him. He said that he would trade with me, but I felt that if I was going to be scared of bugs, then there was not much hope for me over the next few weeks, because bugs (innocuous at that) were a lot less significant than some other things. I am proud to say I did not kill a single one. Instead, I talked out loud to the spiders, the pallis (small harmless lizards -- yes akka there are TONS!), beetles, and random bugs I had never even seen before. I got dressed, too scared to take a shower and jumped underneath my mosquito net, after making sure that the spots on my net were not moving. At first, I was frightened of sleeping, I could hear the beetles bumping into the wall, the flies whirring around and probably the pitter patter of a small palli's feet. The net thing I knew, it was 7:30am.
When I awoke the next morning, I continued my strange tradition. I began to check each corner of the rooms and speak out loud to the bugs. The worst was in the bathroom because the windows are not closed, there are just metal bars, so anything that can fit, can fly in and out. I kept an eye on each giant spider, each mosquito, everything as I cautiously filled my bucket with hot water and finished my bath.
When I returned later in the afternoon, I went to use the sink when I saw the BIGGEST cockroach I have ever seen in my life. I started throwing water on him and screaming at the top of my lungs. I felt like I was trapped in the corner and I could feel the spiders in the corners just laughing at me. I threw some more water at the cockroach and darted through the bathroom door and slammed it shut. My heart was beating fast and my face was flush, I yelled out loud "okay! you got me, I'm scared!"
The first few days on this campus were really rough; I was constantly talking out loud, trying to negotiate with bugs that don't actually respond or care and trying to slowly get myself to just relax and remember that nothing here, except the mosquitos were really interested in biting me. (Or so thats the line I was fed ;)... )
Monday, June 25, 2007
Ready, Set, No?
Getting to my final project site here, in Holalkere, Karnataka has been an unexpected adventure. I thought I would get on a bus, then another bus and meet an NGO staff, and begin my research process. This was certainly not the case...
I finished packing Sunday afternoon and was just sitting and talking to Alan on skype until it was time to leave which was around 9:00pm. Once my RA, Doug, arrived, we hopped in an auto en route to Egmore rail station, where we had to catch our bus to Bangalore. After some confusion, we ended up on Kenneth Lane (the same road as the Pandian hotel) and found our way to where Parveen travels had a large luxury bus waiting. When we boarded the bus, the gentleman looked at our tickets and laughed, "you are on the wrong bus!" he said to us in a mix of Tamil and English. Upon closer examination of the tickets, we realized that the bus from Egmore departed at 8:45pm, but the bus from Royapeta only left at 10pm, going to Bangalore. I'm not exactly sure what happened next, but he allowed us to stay on the bus, and we began to leave Chennai. There were only a handful of others on the bus. In the meantime, our driver said he would radio the bus we were actually supposed to be on and mention to them, that we were on his bus.
About 30 minutes later, we arrived at another bus station and were asked to get our belongings and jump on another bus. Like everything else in India, the people there seem to have a sense of how to take care of things, even when you don't think there is anything to be done. We boarded the other bus, which was meant for Bangalore. I still don't know whether this was the bus we were meant to get on originally, or if he finagled two seats on another bus, what I did know was that we were finally on the way to Bangalore. (Side note, people here like to help tourists, to the point of extremely bossy behavior.)
I luckily got a seat next to one of the few women on board, and Doug was diagonally across the aisle sitting next to a man, who was really restless throughout the course of the ride. The bus was not bad at all, it allowed passengers to fully recline and even provided a warm blanket and a bottle of water. Unfortunately for me, I was paranoid about luggage on a bus, after hearing one too many horror stories from the other interns. As a result, I had Louie's bag underneath my feet. This resulted in minimal leg room for me, and even though I eventually fell asleep, I kept waking up because my legs were cramped.
I woke up at around 3:30, to find that the woman seated next to me, Smriti, was getting off the bus. I fell back asleep, until I heard a loud voice yelling for everyone to get off the bus. "Last stop!" he cried in Tamil (I think). I looked outside and realized that we had been dropped off in the middle of a lonely street at 4 in the morning. Doug and I gathered our things and unsuccessfully bargained with an auto driver, who finally offered to take us to our hotel in Koramangala (Bangalore) for the moderate price of 170 rupees. (Note to travelers - after 9:30pm, Bangalore auto drivers are legally able to charge twice the fare price. In addition, they seem to think that this also implies that they do not have to put on their meter during late-night fares... I am so glad NYC taxi drivers do not have such rules.)
In any case, our driver dropped us off in a neighborhood close to Forum Mall, where the IFMR Bangalore office/apartment is located. We went through a small front gate, around back and climbed three short flights of stairs till we got to the door of the office. We tried to open one of the windows, because another IFMR associate had mentioned that they would leave the key in the window. However, there was no key to be found. We were SOL.
At this moment, I was exhausted and starving because I had not eaten anything since 2pm that day, in fear of having to use a bathroom en route to Bangalore. Doug called this interesting toll-free Indian number (8888888), "get it now" which allowed you to call and get phone numbers for virtually anything. It started sending him information on hotels in the area. We called one place and they said they had a double room available for check-in. We lugged our stuff to the main road and waited until patiently until we got an auto, who informed us it would be another 150 rupees to our new destination. The roads were eerily empty because of the late hour. We began to drive to a part of town that had awful roads and limited street lights. As we drove, we happened to come upon a parking lot where vegetable vendors were bargaining with suppliers. There were several wooden hand-drawn carts and men dressed in dhothis lining the streets. Our auto maneuvered through trucks and the wooden carts and finally got us to the neighborhood where our hotel was.
We got a little lost, but eventually found a hotel, deep in a very bizarre part of the city, on a corner. Doug stepped out of the auto and approached the front door of the hotel. After a minute or so, the door opened by a very sleepy-looking security guard and a bemused desk attendant, who was young but balding. Doug and I gave each other a sidelong glance and he mumbled to me, whether this was a good idea. He suggested we look at the room, so the desk attendant bellowed. Suddenly, what I thought was a sheet on the floor, sprang up from the floor - it was the "bell boy." I was startled, but pretended that it was completely normal as he led us into the elevator, that promptly began to play some interesting light jazz. He opened the door to one room, which was okay, but for the fact that that it needed to be cleaned. We took the jazz elevator back down and spoke to the manager and let him know that there was other rooms available. He began to explain that no rooms were available until 7 or 8 am. As he continued his explanation, that was largely directed towards Doug, I glanced over to the small lobby area, when out of nowhere, a giant animal ran across the floor at top speed. Halfway through its journey across the lobby, I realized it was a giant rat. I gasped loudly, and looked at Doug with eyes bulging out of my head due to fear. The hotel manager simply laughed, like a small puppy had run through the lobby. My heart was beating so quickly, and I immediately began to scan the room for any other rodents.
At that moment, Doug happened to get another phone call, while I spoke with the hotel manager who assured me that his other "sister" hotel would have other rooms. He said that because of some convention that we should stay in their neighborhood. I politely listened as Doug spoke on the phone and waited, till he mentioned that he found rooms elsewhere. He asked me if we should try and go to the other place, that he found back in Koramangala. I sighed relief, and agreed with him. We walked back to the main road till we found another auto driver, who was kind enough to take us again for 150 rupees back to where we were. (ha!) By this time, the sun had come up, and more cars had taken to the road. We arrived on a small residential street, across from Jyothi Bakery. A gentleman, who also seemed to have just woken up, led us to the room. I walked in and immediately, I was at peace - the room was clean, no rats in site. I promptly passed out.
The rest of the day was rather uneventful, just checked into the IFMR office, did some work from there and made a necessary trip to Cafe Coffee Day. (Sort of an Indian starbucks that also happens to serve chicken tikka sandwiches among others.)
In the evening, I took an auto to Wilson Garden where I spent two wonderful hours with Shantha Mami who had made a lovely dinner of poori masal, yogurt rice and so many wonderful varieties of mango pickles. I felt like I was home. I later visited Mani Uncle's home and saw Chitra Aunty and Veda and Surya and Mama. It was really nice to visit with them, even though it was brief. I will hopefully be able to see them before I leave Karnataka.
Later, they were worried about me going home so late, so I called Doug and asked if he could get me on his way back from dinner. When I got into the auto the driver promptly turned off the vehicle and decided that he wanted more money. He then got out of the car and proceeded to try and talk with random strangers to get them to translate his demands into English. Both people who walked by, a pizza delivery guy and a random neighbor mentioned that he was just hiking prices because we were tourists and that he should show us some respect and treat us like regular Bangalore people. He eventually settled at 30 rupees higher than agreed, and drove us back to the hotel. When we arrived, he apologized for his behavior. Oh auto-karan, you trouble me so! :)
ps. Happy Birthday Mom :)!
I finished packing Sunday afternoon and was just sitting and talking to Alan on skype until it was time to leave which was around 9:00pm. Once my RA, Doug, arrived, we hopped in an auto en route to Egmore rail station, where we had to catch our bus to Bangalore. After some confusion, we ended up on Kenneth Lane (the same road as the Pandian hotel) and found our way to where Parveen travels had a large luxury bus waiting. When we boarded the bus, the gentleman looked at our tickets and laughed, "you are on the wrong bus!" he said to us in a mix of Tamil and English. Upon closer examination of the tickets, we realized that the bus from Egmore departed at 8:45pm, but the bus from Royapeta only left at 10pm, going to Bangalore. I'm not exactly sure what happened next, but he allowed us to stay on the bus, and we began to leave Chennai. There were only a handful of others on the bus. In the meantime, our driver said he would radio the bus we were actually supposed to be on and mention to them, that we were on his bus.
About 30 minutes later, we arrived at another bus station and were asked to get our belongings and jump on another bus. Like everything else in India, the people there seem to have a sense of how to take care of things, even when you don't think there is anything to be done. We boarded the other bus, which was meant for Bangalore. I still don't know whether this was the bus we were meant to get on originally, or if he finagled two seats on another bus, what I did know was that we were finally on the way to Bangalore. (Side note, people here like to help tourists, to the point of extremely bossy behavior.)
I luckily got a seat next to one of the few women on board, and Doug was diagonally across the aisle sitting next to a man, who was really restless throughout the course of the ride. The bus was not bad at all, it allowed passengers to fully recline and even provided a warm blanket and a bottle of water. Unfortunately for me, I was paranoid about luggage on a bus, after hearing one too many horror stories from the other interns. As a result, I had Louie's bag underneath my feet. This resulted in minimal leg room for me, and even though I eventually fell asleep, I kept waking up because my legs were cramped.
I woke up at around 3:30, to find that the woman seated next to me, Smriti, was getting off the bus. I fell back asleep, until I heard a loud voice yelling for everyone to get off the bus. "Last stop!" he cried in Tamil (I think). I looked outside and realized that we had been dropped off in the middle of a lonely street at 4 in the morning. Doug and I gathered our things and unsuccessfully bargained with an auto driver, who finally offered to take us to our hotel in Koramangala (Bangalore) for the moderate price of 170 rupees. (Note to travelers - after 9:30pm, Bangalore auto drivers are legally able to charge twice the fare price. In addition, they seem to think that this also implies that they do not have to put on their meter during late-night fares... I am so glad NYC taxi drivers do not have such rules.)
In any case, our driver dropped us off in a neighborhood close to Forum Mall, where the IFMR Bangalore office/apartment is located. We went through a small front gate, around back and climbed three short flights of stairs till we got to the door of the office. We tried to open one of the windows, because another IFMR associate had mentioned that they would leave the key in the window. However, there was no key to be found. We were SOL.
At this moment, I was exhausted and starving because I had not eaten anything since 2pm that day, in fear of having to use a bathroom en route to Bangalore. Doug called this interesting toll-free Indian number (8888888), "get it now" which allowed you to call and get phone numbers for virtually anything. It started sending him information on hotels in the area. We called one place and they said they had a double room available for check-in. We lugged our stuff to the main road and waited until patiently until we got an auto, who informed us it would be another 150 rupees to our new destination. The roads were eerily empty because of the late hour. We began to drive to a part of town that had awful roads and limited street lights. As we drove, we happened to come upon a parking lot where vegetable vendors were bargaining with suppliers. There were several wooden hand-drawn carts and men dressed in dhothis lining the streets. Our auto maneuvered through trucks and the wooden carts and finally got us to the neighborhood where our hotel was.
We got a little lost, but eventually found a hotel, deep in a very bizarre part of the city, on a corner. Doug stepped out of the auto and approached the front door of the hotel. After a minute or so, the door opened by a very sleepy-looking security guard and a bemused desk attendant, who was young but balding. Doug and I gave each other a sidelong glance and he mumbled to me, whether this was a good idea. He suggested we look at the room, so the desk attendant bellowed. Suddenly, what I thought was a sheet on the floor, sprang up from the floor - it was the "bell boy." I was startled, but pretended that it was completely normal as he led us into the elevator, that promptly began to play some interesting light jazz. He opened the door to one room, which was okay, but for the fact that that it needed to be cleaned. We took the jazz elevator back down and spoke to the manager and let him know that there was other rooms available. He began to explain that no rooms were available until 7 or 8 am. As he continued his explanation, that was largely directed towards Doug, I glanced over to the small lobby area, when out of nowhere, a giant animal ran across the floor at top speed. Halfway through its journey across the lobby, I realized it was a giant rat. I gasped loudly, and looked at Doug with eyes bulging out of my head due to fear. The hotel manager simply laughed, like a small puppy had run through the lobby. My heart was beating so quickly, and I immediately began to scan the room for any other rodents.
At that moment, Doug happened to get another phone call, while I spoke with the hotel manager who assured me that his other "sister" hotel would have other rooms. He said that because of some convention that we should stay in their neighborhood. I politely listened as Doug spoke on the phone and waited, till he mentioned that he found rooms elsewhere. He asked me if we should try and go to the other place, that he found back in Koramangala. I sighed relief, and agreed with him. We walked back to the main road till we found another auto driver, who was kind enough to take us again for 150 rupees back to where we were. (ha!) By this time, the sun had come up, and more cars had taken to the road. We arrived on a small residential street, across from Jyothi Bakery. A gentleman, who also seemed to have just woken up, led us to the room. I walked in and immediately, I was at peace - the room was clean, no rats in site. I promptly passed out.
The rest of the day was rather uneventful, just checked into the IFMR office, did some work from there and made a necessary trip to Cafe Coffee Day. (Sort of an Indian starbucks that also happens to serve chicken tikka sandwiches among others.)
In the evening, I took an auto to Wilson Garden where I spent two wonderful hours with Shantha Mami who had made a lovely dinner of poori masal, yogurt rice and so many wonderful varieties of mango pickles. I felt like I was home. I later visited Mani Uncle's home and saw Chitra Aunty and Veda and Surya and Mama. It was really nice to visit with them, even though it was brief. I will hopefully be able to see them before I leave Karnataka.
Later, they were worried about me going home so late, so I called Doug and asked if he could get me on his way back from dinner. When I got into the auto the driver promptly turned off the vehicle and decided that he wanted more money. He then got out of the car and proceeded to try and talk with random strangers to get them to translate his demands into English. Both people who walked by, a pizza delivery guy and a random neighbor mentioned that he was just hiking prices because we were tourists and that he should show us some respect and treat us like regular Bangalore people. He eventually settled at 30 rupees higher than agreed, and drove us back to the hotel. When we arrived, he apologized for his behavior. Oh auto-karan, you trouble me so! :)
ps. Happy Birthday Mom :)!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
case of the mondays
This might sound harsh, but I have to say it. I don't really like Chennai all that much at this moment in time. Most people would attribute this to the pollution and dirty streets but I attribute it to auto drivers. I have had so many bad experiences with auto drivers in the last three weeks that they have really left a bad taste in my mouth. This morning my auto driver agreed to a rate of 40 rupees from Nungumbakkam to Fountain Plaza in Egmore. After we arrived, I asked him if he knew the address and he responded "we don't know things like addresses." Then he proceeded to tell me that I should give him 50 rupees because he had to come around the overpass to drop me off on the other side, to which I responded in Tamil "I didn't plan the traffic, we agreed to 40 rupees, take it or leave it." He asked if I was threatening to not give him any wages. He asked in Tamil again, "oh so you won't give me any money at all?" I responded "you can take it or leave it, this is what we agreed." I walked out of the taxi after shoving the money in his hand and said something along the lines of "You know I am not a complete idiot." He gave me a really dirty look and I glared at him right back. This irritation was exacerbated by the fact that I had a bad run-in with another auto driver, who gave me the fake 10 rupee note the day before. In addition, I was late to work and had absolutely no clue where I was.
I ended up walking up and down Pantheon Road for almost thirty minutes not knowing how to get to the Egmore office. (I had the address, but street numbers, street names and other such "conveniences" don't often exist in extremely urban parts of India.) I eventually bumped into Chitra, an intern at CDF and we again walked up and down, confused as to where this supposed 8 story building could be. Turns out the building isn't directly on Pantheon Road, and since there are no building numbers its almost impossible to know how to get places.
Eventually, I called Sybill and she had Jessica and John Paul help us figure out where to go. John Paul was so sweet, he came down from the office and met us at the children's museum right across from the office. I eventually cooled down, and after an hour or so around the other CMF interns in our very raucous conference room, I had forgotten about the incident.
The best part of the day was during lunchtime when a group of us went downstairs to the juice guy, and I got a fresh banana mango juice, squeezed fresh on the spot. The taste was fantastic, and the price, 20 rupees was definitely unbeatable. I proceeded to drink some version of a mango shake for the rest of the week.
I ended up walking up and down Pantheon Road for almost thirty minutes not knowing how to get to the Egmore office. (I had the address, but street numbers, street names and other such "conveniences" don't often exist in extremely urban parts of India.) I eventually bumped into Chitra, an intern at CDF and we again walked up and down, confused as to where this supposed 8 story building could be. Turns out the building isn't directly on Pantheon Road, and since there are no building numbers its almost impossible to know how to get places.
Eventually, I called Sybill and she had Jessica and John Paul help us figure out where to go. John Paul was so sweet, he came down from the office and met us at the children's museum right across from the office. I eventually cooled down, and after an hour or so around the other CMF interns in our very raucous conference room, I had forgotten about the incident.
The best part of the day was during lunchtime when a group of us went downstairs to the juice guy, and I got a fresh banana mango juice, squeezed fresh on the spot. The taste was fantastic, and the price, 20 rupees was definitely unbeatable. I proceeded to drink some version of a mango shake for the rest of the week.
Monday, June 18, 2007
training week 2
Well this week of training, I felt was slightly gratuitous. There were some interesting speakers, but overall, I was not enthused to be sitting in a classroom non-stop for 8-12 hours a day. The material got a little repetitive and I think most of the interns were feeling antsy about really getting started on their projects.
We did still manage to make it a great week. I have to say (if I haven't already) that it is really nice to find like minded people who are also easy to get along with. I have really enjoyed getting to know all of the interns.
We had hindi movie night with pizza and beer during one evening. We watched Dilwale Dulhanya Le Jayenge (DDLJ for short). I am sure I butchered the spelling. According to one friend it was the coming of age film for Generation X. (Including some really hilarious scenes of a bunch of Indian people on the beach in very short, neon bathing wear.) We also managed to make it to Saravana Bhavan (a cheap but tasty eatery) near the Pandian at least twice in the same week.
A definite highlight of training was the visit to IIT, where we got to watch a demonstration of an ATM that has been designed for rural areas. It is smaller, lighter and cheaper. Moreover, the machine has biometric authentication (fingerprinting) so that users who cannot read can still utilize funding from the bank. Check out Jess' blog for more details...
Not too much to report, except that we all breathed a sigh of relief when training was over, we were all ready to get started...
We did still manage to make it a great week. I have to say (if I haven't already) that it is really nice to find like minded people who are also easy to get along with. I have really enjoyed getting to know all of the interns.
We had hindi movie night with pizza and beer during one evening. We watched Dilwale Dulhanya Le Jayenge (DDLJ for short). I am sure I butchered the spelling. According to one friend it was the coming of age film for Generation X. (Including some really hilarious scenes of a bunch of Indian people on the beach in very short, neon bathing wear.) We also managed to make it to Saravana Bhavan (a cheap but tasty eatery) near the Pandian at least twice in the same week.
A definite highlight of training was the visit to IIT, where we got to watch a demonstration of an ATM that has been designed for rural areas. It is smaller, lighter and cheaper. Moreover, the machine has biometric authentication (fingerprinting) so that users who cannot read can still utilize funding from the bank. Check out Jess' blog for more details...
Not too much to report, except that we all breathed a sigh of relief when training was over, we were all ready to get started...
Sunday, June 17, 2007
you're not a hindu!
On Sunday morning I awoke from a nice long sleep and got dressed to go to the temple. I met some people for breakfast and then we walked ten or so minutes through the ever-busy Madurai streets. Upon arriving at the temple, we took our shoes off and then walked across the extremely hot (ouch I can't step on the ground) pavement and made a beeline for the small shaded area along the side of the temple entrance. Once inside, we walked towards the ticket booth. There were at least a thousand people just in the main corridor. There were small wedding parties, all these men and women heavily garlanded surrounded by family and friends and I am assuming the rest were tourists from within India and abroad, because this was not the type of crowd you would want to traverse just to get a glimpse of the Meenakshi idol.
My friends, who were all from France thought it best for me to try and go into the temple alone since "non Hindus" are not allowed inside the main chamber. I made my way to the ticket booth to purchase one camera ticket for Edward and an admission ticket for me. The "line" was just a giant group of men, who were all fighting for a space at the window. Determined, I pushed past some of them and finally reached the window. As I was about to open my mouth, another man came right up next to my arm and started to ask and I yelled "This is a line!" My words fell on deaf ears, lines do not exist in India. I then proceeded to ask the ticket gentleman for a ticket and one camera pass. He mumbled something and threw my money back at me and then eventually wrote a camera ticket. I patiently asked him in Tamil "enna achu?" (what happened?) I was really confused as to what was going on. He again grunted something, gave me a dirty look and sent me packing. I realized, as I walked a few steps away, that he had only given me a camera ticket and not a Meenakshi temple ticket. I went back to the counter and asked again, "enna achu?". He again mumbled something indecipherable. This time, I got annoyed and began speaking in English. I asked again and finally realized that he didn't have change and wanted me to pay 15 rupees for the ticket with change. I said "thats all you had to say!" and under my breath I said "jesus" in frustration. From the back of the small office, a man yelled "Don't say Jesus, we are Hindus, we don't believe in Jesus." I, completely fiery at this point, yelled back that "I was raised to believe that we accepted all religions, thats the Hinduism I learned." To which this gentleman and the ticket man responded "you are no Hindu." I yelled back "I am too a Hindu, how dare you talk to me like that!" and stormed away from the window. I was completely taken aback, and really upset because I felt really insulted by their words, this was not the Hinduism I knew.
I eventually got in line and waited 15 or so minutes, until I finally got to the main area. (This temple sort of reminded me of a ride at great adventure.) As I finally got to see Madurai Meenakshi, a black statue set deep into the chamber, with glowing lights all around her, I was yelled at by the priest and Madurai Meenakshi's "bouncer" to "Go!" The gentleman who had been standing in front of me, had been kicked out because he had prayed too long and the families behind me were pushing, even the four year old children. The priest continued to yell at me so I yelled right back. (big surprise right?) I said to him " This is a place of god, you can't yell at people when they are praying!" I was really respectful and patient, but he just kept yelling for me to go. It was so frustrating, I ended up storming off and as I looked back he gave me the "yeah see thats how it is!" look.
Needless to say, I made a promise that the next time I went to a temple, it would be small and there would be no great adventure like line, because it really isn't worth it. After all, as I have been told many times, you don't need to go to a temple to pray or think about god - which is how I feel about it anyway. My overall impression is that the types of people who work at the temple and even attend the temple (aside from tourists) are mostly functional Hindus, they follow rules that are dictated to them by society, but they never question why things are the way they are. I suppose that this hinders thier ability to be tolerant of other religions/practices. (I would be interested to see what people think about this...)
My friends, who were all from France thought it best for me to try and go into the temple alone since "non Hindus" are not allowed inside the main chamber. I made my way to the ticket booth to purchase one camera ticket for Edward and an admission ticket for me. The "line" was just a giant group of men, who were all fighting for a space at the window. Determined, I pushed past some of them and finally reached the window. As I was about to open my mouth, another man came right up next to my arm and started to ask and I yelled "This is a line!" My words fell on deaf ears, lines do not exist in India. I then proceeded to ask the ticket gentleman for a ticket and one camera pass. He mumbled something and threw my money back at me and then eventually wrote a camera ticket. I patiently asked him in Tamil "enna achu?" (what happened?) I was really confused as to what was going on. He again grunted something, gave me a dirty look and sent me packing. I realized, as I walked a few steps away, that he had only given me a camera ticket and not a Meenakshi temple ticket. I went back to the counter and asked again, "enna achu?". He again mumbled something indecipherable. This time, I got annoyed and began speaking in English. I asked again and finally realized that he didn't have change and wanted me to pay 15 rupees for the ticket with change. I said "thats all you had to say!" and under my breath I said "jesus" in frustration. From the back of the small office, a man yelled "Don't say Jesus, we are Hindus, we don't believe in Jesus." I, completely fiery at this point, yelled back that "I was raised to believe that we accepted all religions, thats the Hinduism I learned." To which this gentleman and the ticket man responded "you are no Hindu." I yelled back "I am too a Hindu, how dare you talk to me like that!" and stormed away from the window. I was completely taken aback, and really upset because I felt really insulted by their words, this was not the Hinduism I knew.
I eventually got in line and waited 15 or so minutes, until I finally got to the main area. (This temple sort of reminded me of a ride at great adventure.) As I finally got to see Madurai Meenakshi, a black statue set deep into the chamber, with glowing lights all around her, I was yelled at by the priest and Madurai Meenakshi's "bouncer" to "Go!" The gentleman who had been standing in front of me, had been kicked out because he had prayed too long and the families behind me were pushing, even the four year old children. The priest continued to yell at me so I yelled right back. (big surprise right?) I said to him " This is a place of god, you can't yell at people when they are praying!" I was really respectful and patient, but he just kept yelling for me to go. It was so frustrating, I ended up storming off and as I looked back he gave me the "yeah see thats how it is!" look.
Needless to say, I made a promise that the next time I went to a temple, it would be small and there would be no great adventure like line, because it really isn't worth it. After all, as I have been told many times, you don't need to go to a temple to pray or think about god - which is how I feel about it anyway. My overall impression is that the types of people who work at the temple and even attend the temple (aside from tourists) are mostly functional Hindus, they follow rules that are dictated to them by society, but they never question why things are the way they are. I suppose that this hinders thier ability to be tolerant of other religions/practices. (I would be interested to see what people think about this...)
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Mahabillipuram
Well after two weeks of training, the entire group was looking to get away and relax. (Oh I know I said we wanted to work, but come on!) :)... Some people headed up to Mahabillipuram on Friday night and others headed there Saturday..
I was in the saturday contingent. I left my hostel and caught an auto and met Jess and Nicole at the Pandian. We jumped in the same auto after shrewdly bargaining and made our way to the bus station.
Once we arrived, we settled at the Siva Guest House (which is a really cute little place in this small neighborhood that is rather chill and designed for tourists... its in the Lonely Planet for those of you who might visit!)
We then had breakfast at this little French/Indian place called "Le Yogi" which, is one of my favorite places...Ever! I got crepes with banana and nutella and a black tea... Their menu was just what I needed after 2 weeks of poori masal for breakfast.. (The restaurant is pictured at the right... it was so relaxing inside, just a fan and good music...everyone sitting on the floor or on small benches.)
We ended up doing a lot of really nice, relaxing things... Walked around, saw some of the sculptures that are now housed in this large park. 
Later, some of us took fishing boats out and went swimming in the ocean. (The waves kicked my a$$!) In the late evening, we had dinner.. some beers..and just hung out..it was great...
Later, some of us took fishing boats out and went swimming in the ocean. (The waves kicked my a$$!) In the late evening, we had dinner.. some beers..and just hung out..it was great... The next morning some of us walked along the beach for almost two hours and took pictures and talked. (Pictured below are Christian and Jessica. Right now I don't have time to adjust the HTML, so just pretend they are in a row instead of scattered randomly throughout.) 
We eventually made our way back to Le Yogi, where I had a lovely meal of meusli and mixed fruit (mmm!). Then four of us, Sybille, Christian, Jess and I took the city bus back to Chennai. It was really hectic to figure out how to get on the bus. (Traveler's note: auto drivers and everyone else will tell you to take an auto to the main road to increase the likelihood of catching a bus, but in fact, they do come right into the bus station area on the main road.) It was great, Christian and I sat on the steps of the bus in front of an open door pretty much the entire way. (I have some good video of the road, that I will eventually put on youtube.)
We eventually made our way back to Le Yogi, where I had a lovely meal of meusli and mixed fruit (mmm!). Then four of us, Sybille, Christian, Jess and I took the city bus back to Chennai. It was really hectic to figure out how to get on the bus. (Traveler's note: auto drivers and everyone else will tell you to take an auto to the main road to increase the likelihood of catching a bus, but in fact, they do come right into the bus station area on the main road.) It was great, Christian and I sat on the steps of the bus in front of an open door pretty much the entire way. (I have some good video of the road, that I will eventually put on youtube.)this weekend was a lot of fun..and super relaxing.. im glad we did this!
Back in chennai...
In the evening, we four met up for dinner at Vasantha Bhavan - easily my favorite place to eat in Chennai. Why? because theres this nice "uncle" who came over to our table and began chatting with us. Once he found out I spoke tamil, he was really excited and would try to enter our conversation to ask random little questions. We went back later that week and he is always so nice, asking questions, making sure had everything we needed. The bus boy started to call me "akka" (big sister) which is a nice way to demonstrate respect/affection. (What was funny about this man, and lots of people that we encounter is that if they know that I speak Tamil, they suddenly "cannot understand" the other people at the table, especially if they aren't Indian. Therefore, they will talk only to me and ask for "clarification" when others are ordering even if they said the EXACT same thing. Ie. Jessica says "I would like a MA SA LA CHAI" and the gentleman would look at me and say "enna chonna?" (what did she say?) and I would repeat verbatim "she would like MA SA LA CHAI" and suddenly the foggy expression would be a knowing smile "Oh of course!") hahaha..totally psychological. :)
Friday, June 15, 2007
a conversation
Saturday morning we woke up and met downstairs in the hotel lobby by 9 am. The interns chatted as we waited for the RAs and organizers to trickle into the lobby. Eventually, we boarded two buses that had been provided by the Dhan Foundation, the NGO we were going to visit. We drove for about twenty five minutes until we got to a large compound. We got off the bus and walked through a large house-like building - it was one of those homes where there were indoor and outdoor spaces within the walls of the house. We we were led into a small room that had a few overhead fans and several folding chairs that lined the perimter. There was a large projection machine on a folding table in the front of the room. A man came in and greeted us and then launched into a long presentation about the Dhan Foundation and its many initiatives. We learned about the many departments and projects that were going on throughout the organization. After the first hour, the heat had finally gotten exhausting. We all sat in the room, sweating and waiting for the presentation to be over. The gentleman who gave the presentation was really informative, but he was just too detailed for our group.
Lunch finally came, and we all walked to another part of the compound where a large buffet style lunch had been prepared in large silver andas (big silver containers for food). We ate some vegetable korma, mixed rice, yogurt and potato chips. The highlight (for me) was the strawberry ice cream at the end of the meal. If you haven't had Indian ice cream, it has a wonderfully soft texture and is lightly flavored and is surprisingly not over-sweetened.(Korma, is not worth the trouble, in my opinion. however, i am convinced korma is some kind of madurai specialty because it kept popping up all weekend.)
After lunch we had two more hours of presentations around Dhan's microfinance program and the mechanics behind their SHG-linkage model. I had been convinced the day before that the Grameen style model was much better, but after talking with the field officer who presented, it seemed like the women had a lot more autonomy. Though, I can't say that I was listening too closely towards the end of the two hours, I was simply itching to get to the site visit and talk to the women.
Before we departed, we had a snack of fresh apples, hot masala tea, sweet lime juice and dried lentils. the sun was so hot above, so we all stood on the steps of the house extension and enjoyed the fresh fruit and juice.
finally, it was time to depart, and two groups boarded two minibuses and were driven off to different locations. our car drove for maybe twenty minutes and as we got closer to the village, the road got narrow and the homes and shops grew sparse. we were driving along the road when all of a sudden we heard loud, blaring religious music coming from somewhere. it was so loud that it felt like the sound was swimming through the bus. however, upon closer examination, we saw that there were large (old fashioned) loudspeakers hooked up to lamp-posts that were blaring the music. we finally parked the car and got out of the vehicle, only to land in another area of the neighborhood where the music was incomprehensibly loud. (this for many corroborated the theory that people here in India are less sensitive to loud sounds, the jury's still out for me.)
We followed Mr. Kartikeyan towards a small temple in the center of the village where we were instructed to take our shoes off. In the mean time, Mr. Karthikeyan (our representative from Dhan) tried to gather the women for their monthly meeting. As we waited, several children had come over to the temple. They were surprised when I spoke Tamil with them. Some of the kids were walking up to the other interns and asking them questions. There were three little girls Chitra, Kartikeya and Vijayalakshmi. (No, akka and krish, I did not take those names from one of dad's "kuti mohan" stories...)
They kept asking "what is that akka's name, what is that akka's name?" (they were referring to sybille, jessica, alison and nicole. They kept repeating the names out loud. The boys were asking Sybille for pictures. They were following all of the interns everywhere; they were really excited and happy. (For those of you who don't know, I love kids, and half or more of me would have been perfectly happy just sitting with the kids and asking them questions all afternoon.)
The women eventually gathered in what we later found out was the school house. we sat on one side while the meeting got under way, and the women sat in a large circle conducting their business on the other side. They had their accountant present, and he talked with the women as they each paid their loans and collected savings. While this transpired,
the leader of the group, an older woman with curly white hair, big mouse-like eyes and weathered skin that was the color of pokkodam, came over to me and started chatting. She talked about how she had a yogurt business. She gestured by showing me how she would carry the yogurt all about the town, still on the top of her head. Then she gestured again, drawing her finger across her neck while she mumbled something I could not quite understand. I finally figured out that she was trying to tell me that her husband had died, and as a result, she had to work. Also, all of her sons had gotten married and left the village she lived in. She told me she was seventy years old and was tired of working everyday. (It was really nice to be able to have a one on one conversation with someone and just hear about their life. I suppose it was really a one to many conversation since I was trying my best to translate everything this lady told me to the entire group.) At one point during the conversation, she yelled at someone to go and do something. A few minutes later, she happily doled out "morru" (homemade buttermilk) from a large silver pot. She made all of us drink glass after glass and was not interested in taking no for an answer.
This lady reminded me just a little bit of my own grandmother. I'm not sure if it was her weathered hands, or her warmth, but I found myself really missing Lalithamma (my grandmother) during the course of this day. Meanwhile, the women in the group were going about their business, collecting money, doling out the savings and making sure the accountant recorded everything correctly. They were not at all phased by our presence in the corner of the school house.
When the meeting was over, we expanded our circle so that we could have a conversation with the women. Again, I found myself interpreting questions and remarks from the interns to the women. I also found that I still needed quite a bit of help from Mr. Karthikeyan, because there were lots of phrases and expressions I was not able to comprehend.
I explained who we were (graduate students) and why we were there ( to learn about their lives so we could help more people) and then began by asking questions. The initial questions were similar to those that I mentioned in previous posts, but our group had gotten quite creative since the day before. This time, we asked some colorful questions like "Do you think your husbands could do this?" The response was a resounding "NOoooooooooo!" Some women laughed, others rolled their eyes, the older woman made a fist with her four fingers and pointed her thumb towards her mouth, gesturing "drunken" behavior. I asked if alcohol was a big concern and some women murmured "yes mmm hmm." They also talked about how men just don't have the patience. Another woman told us "Oh, my husband doesn't have the patience to sit here, but he wants to know what happened at the meeting, who I fought with, who got to take home savings." Other women agreed that their husbands were interested in the details as well. Also what was really interesting was the fact that the majority of these women were in fact housewives, and did not use the loans from the SHG for small enterprises, as is commonly perceived.
This visit made me feel a lot closer to the women I was talking with. I think that all of the cmf interns that were there also were able to better relate to the women, since it was more of a large group discussion versus a Q/A session. There was a lot more laughter and participation from all of the women.
I found myself thinking a lot about Lalithamma. I kept thinking - "thank you!, thank you for insisting that i learn Tamil, because otherwise today would not have been possible." I don't think that my grandmother insisted on us learning Tamil thinking that one day I would come back to a village in India to talk with women not much different than herself, but she did insist it was important. On this day, it made a world of difference. This day showed me that there was a whole other world that I could explore because of the gift that my grandmother and my parents gave me.
I have always known Tamil because it was spoken in my house. However, since my grandmother passed eight years ago, there has been no reason to speak continually in Tamil. Instead, my parents and I weave in and out of a mix of tamil and english. Not until I arrived in Madurai and tried speaking with these women did I realize how much English is really mixed in with my Tamil. I had to fight to recall the words that I had otherwise never used it was so challenging, and I found myself leaning often on the NGO staff for helping me translate things. Lastly, on the linguistic front, it was really interesting to me, that the women could understand most of what I was saying, but I on the other hand, could not understand a significant amount of what they were saying because their dialect was so varied.
At the end of the discussion, I ended up meeting several women. They said so many wonderful things to me. One woman, whose name was coincidentally Subhalakshmi (my mom's name) said "romba sandosham" (rough translation: overwhelming happiness) about our visit to their village. i later met three other subhalakshmi's which was quite amazing, because I thought it was such a unique name! (I guess not in the motherland....)
Talking it over with the other cmf interns, it sounded like everyone that had come to the village had a really pleasant and worthwhile experience. It was nice to talk, to listen, to ask questions and to answer questions. It was nice to tell the women about where we were from (france, germany, switzerland, united states, mexico) and see their faces full of excitement.
At the end, my little grandma-like friend insisted I give her my phone number. I didn't have an India number to give at the time, so I gave them my name and e-mail instead. After writing it down another woman slowly voiced "veena vasudevan CO lum bee ya yoou nee versity." I asked her if she spoke English, she said she learned in school, they all had. It made so much more sense as to why they could understand things I had said when I could not come up with a Tamil translation.
Finally, after shaking hands and taking pictures and saying goodbye, we were getting back on the bus. As I walked out of the schoolhouse, the old lady wanted to show me something. Everyone else was nearing the minibus, but she insisted I follow her. Sybille and I watched as she took a key on her hip and unlocked the front door to a small house, right in the village center. There was a small television, in the front room and a fan blowing a big pot of cooling milk; she was making thyrru (curd or yogurt). She had not wanted us to leave without showing us what she did every day. I was very touched that she wanted to share this with us.
We eventually said good bye, and waived to all the kids and women as our bus traveled back down the dirt road and into the blaring Tamil music.
Here is a picture of our group (including our guide and driver) on the steps of Hotel Supreme after returning from our visit.
Lunch finally came, and we all walked to another part of the compound where a large buffet style lunch had been prepared in large silver andas (big silver containers for food). We ate some vegetable korma, mixed rice, yogurt and potato chips. The highlight (for me) was the strawberry ice cream at the end of the meal. If you haven't had Indian ice cream, it has a wonderfully soft texture and is lightly flavored and is surprisingly not over-sweetened.(Korma, is not worth the trouble, in my opinion. however, i am convinced korma is some kind of madurai specialty because it kept popping up all weekend.)
After lunch we had two more hours of presentations around Dhan's microfinance program and the mechanics behind their SHG-linkage model. I had been convinced the day before that the Grameen style model was much better, but after talking with the field officer who presented, it seemed like the women had a lot more autonomy. Though, I can't say that I was listening too closely towards the end of the two hours, I was simply itching to get to the site visit and talk to the women.
Before we departed, we had a snack of fresh apples, hot masala tea, sweet lime juice and dried lentils. the sun was so hot above, so we all stood on the steps of the house extension and enjoyed the fresh fruit and juice.
finally, it was time to depart, and two groups boarded two minibuses and were driven off to different locations. our car drove for maybe twenty minutes and as we got closer to the village, the road got narrow and the homes and shops grew sparse. we were driving along the road when all of a sudden we heard loud, blaring religious music coming from somewhere. it was so loud that it felt like the sound was swimming through the bus. however, upon closer examination, we saw that there were large (old fashioned) loudspeakers hooked up to lamp-posts that were blaring the music. we finally parked the car and got out of the vehicle, only to land in another area of the neighborhood where the music was incomprehensibly loud. (this for many corroborated the theory that people here in India are less sensitive to loud sounds, the jury's still out for me.)
We followed Mr. Kartikeyan towards a small temple in the center of the village where we were instructed to take our shoes off. In the mean time, Mr. Karthikeyan (our representative from Dhan) tried to gather the women for their monthly meeting. As we waited, several children had come over to the temple. They were surprised when I spoke Tamil with them. Some of the kids were walking up to the other interns and asking them questions. There were three little girls Chitra, Kartikeya and Vijayalakshmi. (No, akka and krish, I did not take those names from one of dad's "kuti mohan" stories...)
They kept asking "what is that akka's name, what is that akka's name?" (they were referring to sybille, jessica, alison and nicole. They kept repeating the names out loud. The boys were asking Sybille for pictures. They were following all of the interns everywhere; they were really excited and happy. (For those of you who don't know, I love kids, and half or more of me would have been perfectly happy just sitting with the kids and asking them questions all afternoon.)
The women eventually gathered in what we later found out was the school house. we sat on one side while the meeting got under way, and the women sat in a large circle conducting their business on the other side. They had their accountant present, and he talked with the women as they each paid their loans and collected savings. While this transpired,
the leader of the group, an older woman with curly white hair, big mouse-like eyes and weathered skin that was the color of pokkodam, came over to me and started chatting. She talked about how she had a yogurt business. She gestured by showing me how she would carry the yogurt all about the town, still on the top of her head. Then she gestured again, drawing her finger across her neck while she mumbled something I could not quite understand. I finally figured out that she was trying to tell me that her husband had died, and as a result, she had to work. Also, all of her sons had gotten married and left the village she lived in. She told me she was seventy years old and was tired of working everyday. (It was really nice to be able to have a one on one conversation with someone and just hear about their life. I suppose it was really a one to many conversation since I was trying my best to translate everything this lady told me to the entire group.) At one point during the conversation, she yelled at someone to go and do something. A few minutes later, she happily doled out "morru" (homemade buttermilk) from a large silver pot. She made all of us drink glass after glass and was not interested in taking no for an answer.This lady reminded me just a little bit of my own grandmother. I'm not sure if it was her weathered hands, or her warmth, but I found myself really missing Lalithamma (my grandmother) during the course of this day. Meanwhile, the women in the group were going about their business, collecting money, doling out the savings and making sure the accountant recorded everything correctly. They were not at all phased by our presence in the corner of the school house.
When the meeting was over, we expanded our circle so that we could have a conversation with the women. Again, I found myself interpreting questions and remarks from the interns to the women. I also found that I still needed quite a bit of help from Mr. Karthikeyan, because there were lots of phrases and expressions I was not able to comprehend.
I explained who we were (graduate students) and why we were there ( to learn about their lives so we could help more people) and then began by asking questions. The initial questions were similar to those that I mentioned in previous posts, but our group had gotten quite creative since the day before. This time, we asked some colorful questions like "Do you think your husbands could do this?" The response was a resounding "NOoooooooooo!" Some women laughed, others rolled their eyes, the older woman made a fist with her four fingers and pointed her thumb towards her mouth, gesturing "drunken" behavior. I asked if alcohol was a big concern and some women murmured "yes mmm hmm." They also talked about how men just don't have the patience. Another woman told us "Oh, my husband doesn't have the patience to sit here, but he wants to know what happened at the meeting, who I fought with, who got to take home savings." Other women agreed that their husbands were interested in the details as well. Also what was really interesting was the fact that the majority of these women were in fact housewives, and did not use the loans from the SHG for small enterprises, as is commonly perceived.
This visit made me feel a lot closer to the women I was talking with. I think that all of the cmf interns that were there also were able to better relate to the women, since it was more of a large group discussion versus a Q/A session. There was a lot more laughter and participation from all of the women.
I found myself thinking a lot about Lalithamma. I kept thinking - "thank you!, thank you for insisting that i learn Tamil, because otherwise today would not have been possible." I don't think that my grandmother insisted on us learning Tamil thinking that one day I would come back to a village in India to talk with women not much different than herself, but she did insist it was important. On this day, it made a world of difference. This day showed me that there was a whole other world that I could explore because of the gift that my grandmother and my parents gave me.
I have always known Tamil because it was spoken in my house. However, since my grandmother passed eight years ago, there has been no reason to speak continually in Tamil. Instead, my parents and I weave in and out of a mix of tamil and english. Not until I arrived in Madurai and tried speaking with these women did I realize how much English is really mixed in with my Tamil. I had to fight to recall the words that I had otherwise never used it was so challenging, and I found myself leaning often on the NGO staff for helping me translate things. Lastly, on the linguistic front, it was really interesting to me, that the women could understand most of what I was saying, but I on the other hand, could not understand a significant amount of what they were saying because their dialect was so varied.
At the end of the discussion, I ended up meeting several women. They said so many wonderful things to me. One woman, whose name was coincidentally Subhalakshmi (my mom's name) said "romba sandosham" (rough translation: overwhelming happiness) about our visit to their village. i later met three other subhalakshmi's which was quite amazing, because I thought it was such a unique name! (I guess not in the motherland....)
Talking it over with the other cmf interns, it sounded like everyone that had come to the village had a really pleasant and worthwhile experience. It was nice to talk, to listen, to ask questions and to answer questions. It was nice to tell the women about where we were from (france, germany, switzerland, united states, mexico) and see their faces full of excitement.
At the end, my little grandma-like friend insisted I give her my phone number. I didn't have an India number to give at the time, so I gave them my name and e-mail instead. After writing it down another woman slowly voiced "veena vasudevan CO lum bee ya yoou nee versity." I asked her if she spoke English, she said she learned in school, they all had. It made so much more sense as to why they could understand things I had said when I could not come up with a Tamil translation.
Finally, after shaking hands and taking pictures and saying goodbye, we were getting back on the bus. As I walked out of the schoolhouse, the old lady wanted to show me something. Everyone else was nearing the minibus, but she insisted I follow her. Sybille and I watched as she took a key on her hip and unlocked the front door to a small house, right in the village center. There was a small television, in the front room and a fan blowing a big pot of cooling milk; she was making thyrru (curd or yogurt). She had not wanted us to leave without showing us what she did every day. I was very touched that she wanted to share this with us.
We eventually said good bye, and waived to all the kids and women as our bus traveled back down the dirt road and into the blaring Tamil music.
Here is a picture of our group (including our guide and driver) on the steps of Hotel Supreme after returning from our visit.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
patience
on friday night, we got back from our first site visit and some of us decided to meet downstairs to go check out the much talked about "madurai meenakshi cotton market." many people had mentioned how tailors located close by to the temple could replicate anything you gave them. (When I heard this, I imagined a quiet dirt path on the way to the temple that housed a wall of cotton, blowing in the wind. there would be several tailors, dressed in white shirts and pants (like men of my grandfather's time) ready to take measurements and sew beautiful outfits on their sewing machines that shined in the sun.) Sadly, this fantasy only held true in my head.
In any case, about ten of us decided to start walking from the Hotel Supreme to the Meenakshi Temple (where the cotton market was located).
The streets of Madurai are packed with people, cars and animals. (I know, technically I described all of India.) However, the drivers are even more erratic and the streets are significantly more narrow. I imagine that the Madurai city planners did not intend for the masses of people that come on a daily basis to the temple. As we came to the first major intersection, most of the group was able to cross, but three of us got left behind because of a crazy motorcycle driver who nearly took of a few of my toes.
On our way, a gentleman randomly started chatting with us and then insisted that we go and see the golden view of the temple. He kept talking about how the tickets were free and that he didn't want any money, his dad worked for the temple and he was just promoting it because the view was just so beautiful. this scheme was presented to us all three days of our visit. we realized after a minute or so, that this man was entirely too excited about the temple view and was probably trying to make a few extra rupees.
anyway, we eventually made our way towards the meenakshi temple and then onto a road that paralleled it, lined with several street vendors. I asked a gentleman in the street if he knew where the cotton market was. He decided that he would lead me to a store that was not the cotton market, but instead, it was his boutique. He, like the other man, had noticed our group of tourists and decided to coerce us into buying things at his shop. I said that we were looking for the big cotton market and eventually the three of us found our way, to a big sprawling semi-outdoor bazaar. It was a lot more chaotic than I had envisioned and definitely less peaceful. (see first paragraph) I traversed the long aisles, that were lined with several tailors, small clothing shops and other knick knacks. The tailors, were mostly dressed in undershirts and dhothis (cloth that men in india wear fastened around the waist), sewing on their old steel machines. From every small booth people called "madam! sir! very nice cloth madam ...." It went on like that throughout the market. I had initially been excited about getting something made, but it was so chaotic and there were so many people trying to sell us stuff, so i eventually just lost interest.
it was definitely an interesting culture shock - i was having a much harder time dealing with all of the vendors and random people in the streets trying to become friend with us. my friends, on the other hand, who have traveled more than me were were used to being pestered by shopkeepers and the like and took things in stride. (Advice to anyone who comes to Madurai or any real touristy place in India, the situation is completely within your control, just as long as you realize that the people there are doing their job, you just have to keep up the bargain by doing yours....)
I am still learning that lesson..
In any case, about ten of us decided to start walking from the Hotel Supreme to the Meenakshi Temple (where the cotton market was located).
The streets of Madurai are packed with people, cars and animals. (I know, technically I described all of India.) However, the drivers are even more erratic and the streets are significantly more narrow. I imagine that the Madurai city planners did not intend for the masses of people that come on a daily basis to the temple. As we came to the first major intersection, most of the group was able to cross, but three of us got left behind because of a crazy motorcycle driver who nearly took of a few of my toes.On our way, a gentleman randomly started chatting with us and then insisted that we go and see the golden view of the temple. He kept talking about how the tickets were free and that he didn't want any money, his dad worked for the temple and he was just promoting it because the view was just so beautiful. this scheme was presented to us all three days of our visit. we realized after a minute or so, that this man was entirely too excited about the temple view and was probably trying to make a few extra rupees.
anyway, we eventually made our way towards the meenakshi temple and then onto a road that paralleled it, lined with several street vendors. I asked a gentleman in the street if he knew where the cotton market was. He decided that he would lead me to a store that was not the cotton market, but instead, it was his boutique. He, like the other man, had noticed our group of tourists and decided to coerce us into buying things at his shop. I said that we were looking for the big cotton market and eventually the three of us found our way, to a big sprawling semi-outdoor bazaar. It was a lot more chaotic than I had envisioned and definitely less peaceful. (see first paragraph) I traversed the long aisles, that were lined with several tailors, small clothing shops and other knick knacks. The tailors, were mostly dressed in undershirts and dhothis (cloth that men in india wear fastened around the waist), sewing on their old steel machines. From every small booth people called "madam! sir! very nice cloth madam ...." It went on like that throughout the market. I had initially been excited about getting something made, but it was so chaotic and there were so many people trying to sell us stuff, so i eventually just lost interest.
it was definitely an interesting culture shock - i was having a much harder time dealing with all of the vendors and random people in the streets trying to become friend with us. my friends, on the other hand, who have traveled more than me were were used to being pestered by shopkeepers and the like and took things in stride. (Advice to anyone who comes to Madurai or any real touristy place in India, the situation is completely within your control, just as long as you realize that the people there are doing their job, you just have to keep up the bargain by doing yours....)
I am still learning that lesson..
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
site visits in madurai
Our first site visit was with an organization called Mahasemam Trust which is a microfinance organization headquartered in Madurai. When we arrived at their main office, Mahasemam's fundraising lead gave us an overview of their activities and initiatives. We learned that they recently converted from a self-help group model to a Grameen-group model, which has increased their repayment rates. Mahasemam also provides health insurance, access to hospitals as well as new initiatives in housing, infrastructure and sanitation. Once the general presentation was over, we were split into groups and driven to one of the central Madurai offices. We got a presentation on their new housing program and also got to see the organization's record keeping materials. We were shown large journals, receipt books and even the small passbooks that women used to track their loan repayments. Afterwards, a gentleman gave us a presentation on their housing initiative. They have built around 200 houses, that members of Mahasemam are then able to purchase. It seems like a really great opportunity for their members, especially those who have not yet had an opportunity to own their own home.
after the housing presentation we ate lunch and then we climbed back into our mini-buses and headed off to separate sites. our bus ended up at a local field office where several loan officers were working. the office was located in a semi-urban neighborhood and we were told that this office was around 10 kilometers from all of the groups. as we walked off the bus into the office, we saw a group of women, who we assumed were loan recipients. i was hoping that we would get to speak with these women at some point during the afternoon. we were shown to a room upstairs and as we walked into the second floor space several of the loan officers sprung into action to find seats for our large group of fifteen people. after a few minutes of sitting and waiting expectantly for what was going to happen next, mike, one of the interns, decided that it might be a good idea to try and chat with the women we had seen earlier. so, we asked the branch manager if it would be acceptable to chat with the women who we had seen and he obliged.
A small group of us walked downstairs as the branch manager bellowed to the women that were still around and asked where the rest of the women had gone. In a few minutes, the women, which were a group of 10 or so women, gathered at the steps of the branch office. the branch manager, in tamil explained that we were interested in asking the women some questions and asked if they would participate; the women agreed. I'm not sure how it all started, but i somehow found myself in the middle of a conversation with this group of women using my limited tamil. My fellow interns had several questions, as did i, so with the help of the branch manager, we were somehow able to have a conversation with these women. It was the first time I had ever acted as any kind of interpreter. it was also the first time i was forced to reach for words that I had only heard in passing by my parents or grandmother, but never included them in my own vocabulary. moreover, I was trying very hard to engage with the women but also was trying to ensure that all of the non-Tamil speakers were able to participate in the conversation as well. It was a really challenging but exhilarating situation.
The women, we eventually found out, were actually their to get their yearly loan disbursement, so we caught them on the right day. We asked them a lot of questions "is your life better after joining a group? what do you use the money for? have you utilized the health clinics? how many of you have children? how many of them are in school? what type of work do you do? do your husbands work?" and so on...
in general, it seems like having loans make life a little easier for the women. they said that they do utilize the health clinics and that they use the money for their home businesses and consumption smoothing. All of them had two children (at least), of which school-aged children were attending. Finally, the women did a range of work including sewing to making and selling pappadam (a crunchy south indian snack).
The best part about this exchange was that it was a very informal, conversational interaction. They were joking around and telling little stories and laughing a lot, which put everyone at ease. At one point, I had said something like "thanks so much for taking the time out of your
day to talk with us." The one woman, who was the leader of the group and also quite a personality responded by saying something along the lines of "listen, i don't mind taking a break, we all don't mind stopping work, but we do mind if something cuts into our lunchtime." She proceeded to put her hand on her stomach and the entire group laughed. It clearly loses something in the language/social context translation, but nonetheless it was hilarious and a good ice breaking moment. (The woman I am referring to is the woman in the blue sari standing in the front left.)
A side note, this was the first of several exchanges where I went back and forth between the group of women and group of interns and a more authoritative figure, in this case, the branch manager, who often was translating my tamil into tamil that the women would understand. so it was sort of like cmf interns -> veena, veena -> branch manager, branch manager -> ladies, when my vocabulary just didn't include the tamil words necessary.
The women eventually left to get their loans and more importantly to get lunch :) Our group boarded a bus that dropped us off in another semi-urban neighborhood, where we were going to observe one of the monthly group meetings. We disembarked from the bus onto a street that was lined on both sides by houses and small shops. The neighborhood seemed The women were sitting facing the opposite direction. From the bus we could see that they were sitting in rows of five with their group members. All of the women had their Mahasemam sari on. The branch manager somehow decided that I would be the official interpreter for the day, and after the song was played and the meeting had come to a close, he asked me to begin the interview.
I began asking a similar set of questions, but this time the dynamic between the interns and the women was a lot more formal. They were sitting in rows, almost like it was school and listening to my questions and statements, but not really engaging in a conversation with me. The women said many of the similar things... "life was better, they appreciate Mahasemam..." and so on. However, it was a lot more difficult to have a conversation because of the environment. I will add pictures to demonstrate. I didn't feel right taking pictures at this place because I didn't have an opportunity to get to know the woman.
I should also mention at this point that the children and other people who were not involved in the group meeting had come out of their homes to observe what was transpiring in the street below. the little kids were walking by fascinated at all the different people sitting in their neighborhood. After the meeting, women came to talk to us, one woman asked me to tea, another asked if I could help her son find a job. I was sort of taken aback at the amount of responsibility or faith they had in me after talking with me for ten minutes.
We eventually left these women and got back on the bus and drove another fifteen minutes to another neighborhood. we found out later that the women had already conducted their meeting and had been waiting for us to show up. we walked down a road that had significantly dilapidated homes, piles of bricks and trash in the road. When we got off the bus, several of the children in the village began running towards us. They followed us as we walked with the branch manager to the site of the next group meeting. They were talking to all of the interns, practicing their English and asking all kinds of questions. Some of them were shy, some of them were bold, some of them were giggling every time we would respond to questions. We turned the corner and made our way down one more small path to a little clearing by a seemingly polluted pond, where another group of women sat waiting for us. These women did not have matching saris, and were a lot more boisterous; they were joking and laughing a lot more.
After the branch manage explained why we were there, he turned the "stage" over to me. At this point, we had been on our feet for hours, and everyone was tired. However, no one wanted to leave without making an effort to talk with these women. I asked a similar set of questions that I asked the first group of women. They responded in some similar ways. However, unlike the first group of women, these women were not running joint businesses. Most of them were involved in their own businesses. They seemed to be much bolder than the previous group and I think had more issues with microfinance because towards the end, the group leader seemed to be in a heated discussion about how she wish Mahasemam would provide more educational loans so the kids in the village had an opportunity to go to college. While they do provide educational loans, each loan cannot exceed 3000 rupees per school year and they can utilize this for up to two children. However, there are currently no opportunities for these women to use these loans for larger more long -term consumption like college.
as we left this group meeting, the women and children all came to shake my hand. at that moment, i felt so touched by everyone around me. i smiled at everyone, asked "eppidi irrikail" (how are you) to all of the people as I passed their homes and walked towards the bus. I was overwhelmed again, by the kids' enthusiasm, the warmth of the community and the patience of the group members, who had waited more than an hour for us to arrive.
as we got back on the bus, i sunk into the back row, covered in sweat and dust. i was happy, i was just where i wanted to be...
after the housing presentation we ate lunch and then we climbed back into our mini-buses and headed off to separate sites. our bus ended up at a local field office where several loan officers were working. the office was located in a semi-urban neighborhood and we were told that this office was around 10 kilometers from all of the groups. as we walked off the bus into the office, we saw a group of women, who we assumed were loan recipients. i was hoping that we would get to speak with these women at some point during the afternoon. we were shown to a room upstairs and as we walked into the second floor space several of the loan officers sprung into action to find seats for our large group of fifteen people. after a few minutes of sitting and waiting expectantly for what was going to happen next, mike, one of the interns, decided that it might be a good idea to try and chat with the women we had seen earlier. so, we asked the branch manager if it would be acceptable to chat with the women who we had seen and he obliged.
A small group of us walked downstairs as the branch manager bellowed to the women that were still around and asked where the rest of the women had gone. In a few minutes, the women, which were a group of 10 or so women, gathered at the steps of the branch office. the branch manager, in tamil explained that we were interested in asking the women some questions and asked if they would participate; the women agreed. I'm not sure how it all started, but i somehow found myself in the middle of a conversation with this group of women using my limited tamil. My fellow interns had several questions, as did i, so with the help of the branch manager, we were somehow able to have a conversation with these women. It was the first time I had ever acted as any kind of interpreter. it was also the first time i was forced to reach for words that I had only heard in passing by my parents or grandmother, but never included them in my own vocabulary. moreover, I was trying very hard to engage with the women but also was trying to ensure that all of the non-Tamil speakers were able to participate in the conversation as well. It was a really challenging but exhilarating situation.
The women, we eventually found out, were actually their to get their yearly loan disbursement, so we caught them on the right day. We asked them a lot of questions "is your life better after joining a group? what do you use the money for? have you utilized the health clinics? how many of you have children? how many of them are in school? what type of work do you do? do your husbands work?" and so on...
in general, it seems like having loans make life a little easier for the women. they said that they do utilize the health clinics and that they use the money for their home businesses and consumption smoothing. All of them had two children (at least), of which school-aged children were attending. Finally, the women did a range of work including sewing to making and selling pappadam (a crunchy south indian snack).
The best part about this exchange was that it was a very informal, conversational interaction. They were joking around and telling little stories and laughing a lot, which put everyone at ease. At one point, I had said something like "thanks so much for taking the time out of your
day to talk with us." The one woman, who was the leader of the group and also quite a personality responded by saying something along the lines of "listen, i don't mind taking a break, we all don't mind stopping work, A side note, this was the first of several exchanges where I went back and forth between the group of women and group of interns and a more authoritative figure, in this case, the branch manager, who often was translating my tamil into tamil that the women would understand. so it was sort of like cmf interns -> veena, veena -> branch manager, branch manager -> ladies, when my vocabulary just didn't include the tamil words necessary.
The women eventually left to get their loans and more importantly to get lunch :) Our group boarded a bus that dropped us off in another semi-urban neighborhood, where we were going to observe one of the monthly group meetings. We disembarked from the bus onto a street that was lined on both sides by houses and small shops. The neighborhood seemed The women were sitting facing the opposite direction. From the bus we could see that they were sitting in rows of five with their group members. All of the women had their Mahasemam sari on. The branch manager somehow decided that I would be the official interpreter for the day, and after the song was played and the meeting had come to a close, he asked me to begin the interview.
I began asking a similar set of questions, but this time the dynamic between the interns and the women was a lot more formal. They were sitting in rows, almost like it was school and listening to my questions and statements, but not really engaging in a conversation with me. The women said many of the similar things... "life was better, they appreciate Mahasemam..." and so on. However, it was a lot more difficult to have a conversation because of the environment. I will add pictures to demonstrate. I didn't feel right taking pictures at this place because I didn't have an opportunity to get to know the woman.
I should also mention at this point that the children and other people who were not involved in the group meeting had come out of their homes to observe what was transpiring in the street below. the little kids were walking by fascinated at all the different people sitting in their neighborhood. After the meeting, women came to talk to us, one woman asked me to tea, another asked if I could help her son find a job. I was sort of taken aback at the amount of responsibility or faith they had in me after talking with me for ten minutes.
We eventually left these women and got back on the bus and drove another fifteen minutes to another neighborhood. we found out later that the women had already conducted their meeting and had been waiting for us to show up. we walked down a road that had significantly dilapidated homes, piles of bricks and trash in the road. When we got off the bus, several of the children in the village began running towards us. They followed us as we walked with the branch manager to the site of the next group meeting. They were talking to all of the interns, practicing their English and asking all kinds of questions. Some of them were shy, some of them were bold, some of them were giggling every time we would respond to questions. We turned the corner and made our way down one more small path to a little clearing by a seemingly polluted pond, where another group of women sat waiting for us. These women did not have matching saris, and were a lot more boisterous; they were joking and laughing a lot more.
After the branch manage explained why we were there, he turned the "stage" over to me. At this point, we had been on our feet for hours, and everyone was tired. However, no one wanted to leave without making an effort to talk with these women. I asked a similar set of questions that I asked the first group of women. They responded in some similar ways. However, unlike the first group of women, these women were not running joint businesses. Most of them were involved in their own businesses. They seemed to be much bolder than the previous group and I think had more issues with microfinance because towards the end, the group leader seemed to be in a heated discussion about how she wish Mahasemam would provide more educational loans so the kids in the village had an opportunity to go to college. While they do provide educational loans, each loan cannot exceed 3000 rupees per school year and they can utilize this for up to two children. However, there are currently no opportunities for these women to use these loans for larger more long -term consumption like college.
as we left this group meeting, the women and children all came to shake my hand. at that moment, i felt so touched by everyone around me. i smiled at everyone, asked "eppidi irrikail" (how are you) to all of the people as I passed their homes and walked towards the bus. I was overwhelmed again, by the kids' enthusiasm, the warmth of the community and the patience of the group members, who had waited more than an hour for us to arrive.
as we got back on the bus, i sunk into the back row, covered in sweat and dust. i was happy, i was just where i wanted to be...
to madurai we go
as my last post left off, we were just getting ready to walk to the train station... a group of about twenty interns and RAs (research assistants) made our way to the chennai train station, which was just around the corner. we entered the through construction and droves of people and finally reached platform 4, where our train was waiting. i have to say that i was pretty nervous about 3rd class A/C, as it did not sound all that enticing. The only trains I have taken at home are local commuter trains and there was no such thing as third class. i later found out that 3rd class a/c could not have been nearly as bad as 8th class, which is how many there were on this particular train!
we got onto the train and it wasn't that bad at all. since we had such a large group, we fumbled around until everyone found a seat. the ticketing system in 3rd class isn't the greatest... you have a reserved spot, but you can't get an entire cabin area to yourself, so you will have 4 seats, and the other 3 or 4 might belong to complete strangers. it was funnier because we were a big group of foreigners... loud foreigners...
i ended up leaving the area where my backpack was parked and moved over to where more friends were and chatted with them for quite a while. at some point during the ride, we got shushed by the conductor and looked around to realize that most people
around us had laid out their sheets and pillows and were ready for bed. indian trains do provide sheets, pillows and blankets for all of the a/c sleeper classes from what i understand.
for more information on the indian train system see this site: http://travelindependent.info/india_trains.htm (thanks jude!)
since none of us was interested in sleeping, we moved out into the cramped hallway where the bathrooms and sinks were located to chat. we carried on like this for almost a half hour. finally, the train staff got frustrated and asked us to move. we moved further into the train "hallway" until we found the repository for sheets and pillows. We sat by an open door chatting and watching the late night Tamil Nadu country side pass by. Eventually, the train staff tired of our presence in this area as well, and we all dispersed to go to bed. I made up the bottom row of the bunk with a sheet, threw on a sweatshirt and socks and laid down on with my hand bag just beyond my below. I was rather uncomfortable as the pillow I requested turned out to be a folded sheet in a small pillowcase. I'm not sure what it was, the steady hum of the train, the constant jostling of the train car, but I fell asleep. I woke up a few times to bravely defend my bag, but no one seemed interested in stealing my copy of freakonomics and set of energel pens.
I woke up around 6:30 the next morning to lots of activity. Some people were brushing their teeth, others were grabbing a coffee, while others were packing up items that they had used for their journey. I was afraid to use the train bathroom so many hours after I had boarded, but it was surprisingly clean. (My suggestion is to stick to the Indian toilet, much more sanitary and lower instance of germs.) Either way, travelers should make sure to take anti-bacterial hand gel or spray, because soap is not always available in public toilets.
I stood by the open doors and looked out at the Tamil Nadu country side, as we approached Madurai with 30 minutes to go. The scene was spectacular: palm trees, mountains in the distance, rice paddy fields all glistening under a golden warm sun. We finally pulled into Madurai train station at around 7:30 am.
The entire group walked to Hotel Supreme, located on a somewhat busy street in what I guess could be considered downtown Madurai. I met up with other interns and had a breakfast of poori masala, toast and jam, black tea and a fresh mango juice. (I got my 100 rupees worth on this on-call buffet!)
Once breakfast was over, we boarded two mini-buses and headed to our first visit at Mahasemam Trust.
we got onto the train and it wasn't that bad at all. since we had such a large group, we fumbled around until everyone found a seat. the ticketing system in 3rd class isn't the greatest... you have a reserved spot, but you can't get an entire cabin area to yourself, so you will have 4 seats, and the other 3 or 4 might belong to complete strangers. it was funnier because we were a big group of foreigners... loud foreigners...
i ended up leaving the area where my backpack was parked and moved over to where more friends were and chatted with them for quite a while. at some point during the ride, we got shushed by the conductor and looked around to realize that most people
around us had laid out their sheets and pillows and were ready for bed. indian trains do provide sheets, pillows and blankets for all of the a/c sleeper classes from what i understand. for more information on the indian train system see this site: http://travelindependent.info/india_trains.htm (thanks jude!)
since none of us was interested in sleeping, we moved out into the cramped hallway where the bathrooms and sinks were located to chat. we carried on like this for almost a half hour. finally, the train staff got frustrated and asked us to move. we moved further into the train "hallway" until we found the repository for sheets and pillows. We sat by an open door chatting and watching the late night Tamil Nadu country side pass by. Eventually, the train staff tired of our presence in this area as well, and we all dispersed to go to bed. I made up the bottom row of the bunk with a sheet, threw on a sweatshirt and socks and laid down on with my hand bag just beyond my below. I was rather uncomfortable as the pillow I requested turned out to be a folded sheet in a small pillowcase. I'm not sure what it was, the steady hum of the train, the constant jostling of the train car, but I fell asleep. I woke up a few times to bravely defend my bag, but no one seemed interested in stealing my copy of freakonomics and set of energel pens.
I woke up around 6:30 the next morning to lots of activity. Some people were brushing their teeth, others were grabbing a coffee, while others were packing up items that they had used for their journey. I was afraid to use the train bathroom so many hours after I had boarded, but it was surprisingly clean. (My suggestion is to stick to the Indian toilet, much more sanitary and lower instance of germs.) Either way, travelers should make sure to take anti-bacterial hand gel or spray, because soap is not always available in public toilets.
I stood by the open doors and looked out at the Tamil Nadu country side, as we approached Madurai with 30 minutes to go. The scene was spectacular: palm trees, mountains in the distance, rice paddy fields all glistening under a golden warm sun. We finally pulled into Madurai train station at around 7:30 am.
The entire group walked to Hotel Supreme, located on a somewhat busy street in what I guess could be considered downtown Madurai. I met up with other interns and had a breakfast of poori masala, toast and jam, black tea and a fresh mango juice. (I got my 100 rupees worth on this on-call buffet!)
Once breakfast was over, we boarded two mini-buses and headed to our first visit at Mahasemam Trust.
Monday, June 11, 2007
training week 1
"total immersion" training started at the early hour of 10 am on monday june 4th. i walked into bhagirathi hall on the ifmr campus just a few minutes short of 10 am. the room was bustling with interns and research associates. i walked towards the right side of the room and met five or six interns. The morning wore on with a series of presentations (that were supposedly going to be short!) and then it was finally time for lunch. Twenty-five or more interns and groups of RAs lined up to catch autos to a nearby haunt, Sangeetha Vegetarian Restaurant. (For you travelers out there, this restaurant is located on Nungumbakkam High Road and is definitely a good spot for cheap but good food.)
We returned back to meet our first speaker, who was a professor from Chennai University. He gave us an overview of India's political/economic history.
The week went on like this, speakers and information sessions on the various institutes. There were also several skills workshops that covered things like how to conduct an interview and how to put together surveys. Overall, the sessions were interesting. However, some should definitely be curtailed to maintain the interns' attention in future training sessions.
One of the highlights of the week was a first trip to Spencer Mall. Being the first few days in town, all the interns were eager to find shops so that they could fill their closets with appropriate cultural garb and purchase cell phones. It was also the most entertaining option for a Wednesday evening. Of course, as soon as class was over, everyone went in ten different directions; some caught autos, others took a car and others (me) got left behind at the hostel unbeknownst to all groups. Not to be thwarted at a chance to reenter the mall, I quickly jumped in an auto and headed to meet up with the other interns. I had a feeling that most people would be in the food court area as it was nearing dinner time - and I was right.
I caught up with Christian and Sibill and we eventually found our way to Sree's Sweet Shop. (I think I mentioned this in a previous post.) We ended up buying tons of different little sweets. By this time Ricardo and Suba had also joined us. After we feasted on some gorgeous looking sweets, we joined the others at the Spencer Mall international food court. It was interesting to see everything from Pizza Hut to a local version of Kentucky Fried Chicken. 
Of course, like in any place, the large group of non-Indians attracted a great deal of attention. Sibill and I ate at the place next door, I don't remember the name, but the chat was pretty good. I also had some toast with jam. For those of you who are first time visitors - jam in India is syrupy sweet and does not really taste like fruits. (not advised for jam-lovers...) we eventually hopped into autos and found our way home to rest before another rigorous day of training.
thursday was short ... we were getting ready to go to madurai..by overnight train. after classes we packed our bags and shamanthy and i hopped in an auto and met our fellow interns at the Hotel Pandian, where everyone else is staying... we all gathered our belongings, bought last minute things like water, biscuits and bananas from the local street vendors and headed to the egmore train station....
time for my first overnight train in india (since 1993!).... more on madurai later.
We returned back to meet our first speaker, who was a professor from Chennai University. He gave us an overview of India's political/economic history.
The week went on like this, speakers and information sessions on the various institutes. There were also several skills workshops that covered things like how to conduct an interview and how to put together surveys. Overall, the sessions were interesting. However, some should definitely be curtailed to maintain the interns' attention in future training sessions.
One of the highlights of the week was a first trip to Spencer Mall. Being the first few days in town, all the interns were eager to find shops so that they could fill their closets with appropriate cultural garb and purchase cell phones. It was also the most entertaining option for a Wednesday evening. Of course, as soon as class was over, everyone went in ten different directions; some caught autos, others took a car and others (me) got left behind at the hostel unbeknownst to all groups. Not to be thwarted at a chance to reenter the mall, I quickly jumped in an auto and headed to meet up with the other interns. I had a feeling that most people would be in the food court area as it was nearing dinner time - and I was right.
I caught up with Christian and Sibill and we eventually found our way to Sree's Sweet Shop. (I think I mentioned this in a previous post.) We ended up buying tons of different little sweets. By this time Ricardo and Suba had also joined us. After we feasted on some gorgeous looking sweets, we joined the others at the Spencer Mall international food court. It was interesting to see everything from Pizza Hut to a local version of Kentucky Fried Chicken. 
Of course, like in any place, the large group of non-Indians attracted a great deal of attention. Sibill and I ate at the place next door, I don't remember the name, but the chat was pretty good. I also had some toast with jam. For those of you who are first time visitors - jam in India is syrupy sweet and does not really taste like fruits. (not advised for jam-lovers...) we eventually hopped into autos and found our way home to rest before another rigorous day of training.thursday was short ... we were getting ready to go to madurai..by overnight train. after classes we packed our bags and shamanthy and i hopped in an auto and met our fellow interns at the Hotel Pandian, where everyone else is staying... we all gathered our belongings, bought last minute things like water, biscuits and bananas from the local street vendors and headed to the egmore train station....
time for my first overnight train in india (since 1993!).... more on madurai later.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
stares, stores and more
friday, i spent the morning trying to get my laptop fixed and then spent the rest of the day with family friends. i just spent the afternoon with them talking and catching up. i got back late and then spent the evening until i went to sleep back in the computer lab.
saturday was my first real day as a chennai explorer. i woke up and joined family friends on a visit to "globus" a fairly nice department store somewhere in central chennai. i ended up purchasing a few salvar kameeze separates that im hoping combined with my random kurthi tops will be enough indian clothes to get me through the summer. afterwards i went home, had lunch and then walked to the local spencer's grocery store in search of ice cream with shreeja, who is 8 years old. we couldn't find ice cream, but i was happy that i was able to find garnier fructis conditioner and other products that i had feared would not be available in chennai.
Later, I regressed back to my hostel, where my temporary
roommates were planning on going on a shopping trip. So, of course, I skipped the reading and work I had to do and jumped in an auto with them. We stepped outside of the IFMR gates and walked down the street until we were able to flag down an auto. After bargaining for a few minutes, we got the price of 50 rupees, which was still over priced but better than other prices.
We sped past one very foul smelling river and traffic-packed intersections to our final destination: spencer mall.
We jumped out of the auto and into a multilevel shopping mall. I will say that I was impressed, because I didn't realize that Chennai had such a large mall. I know this is an ignorant assessment because the last time I spent more than 2 days in this city was almost 15 years ago.
In any case, I walked by tons of retail stores including a bunch of American retailers like Guess, Florsheim and Giordano. The only reason i point them out was that the window displays in these stores were somewhat risque' as compared to the clothing styles of most people in Chennai, from what I have observed.
We stopped at regal shoes where I purchased a pair of over priced chapals (Hindi word for sandals). What struck me was the number of people available to help me find a shoe, select a shoe and try on a pair. Once i had purchased my chapals, we walked up to the food court. On our way we walked by an Australian bakery that was being manned by young men probably around the age of twenty. They gave us each a free cookie, hot from the oven; chocolate chip with sort of a coconut twist. Then we stopped by Sree's Sweet / Snack Shop. This is the kind of place you see in Edison, NJ, serving chat items and a range of home made sweets, the difference being that the food quality was really good. The counter service was also friendly and quick, which I really liked. (The woman manning the sweets counter allowed us to try two different kinds of sweets for free.) This is a good place for an unhealthy and tasty snack if you are in the neighborhood.
As we made our way to the door, I realized I had made a mistake and did not like my slippers. So, I went back to Regal Shoes to return the shoes. When I approached the manager he told me in no uncertain terms that I could not return items. His words were "I'm sorry madam, we do not return items only exchange." I was polite and let him know that I would be back when I had more time. (For you shoppers out there, just be warned that while stores can do refunds, they tell everyone that only exchanges are available.)
When I stepped back out into the central mall area, my roommates were gone. I looked around, walked through the door and asked one of the many store security guards milling around, but no one had seen them. I thought I would try to call them, when I realized that I didn't have my book of phone numbers. So, I roamed about trying to find them. As I traversed through the mall, I began to notice the overwhelming stares coming from families, groups of young teenage boys and less commonly from girls. Some of the groups of boys would not only stare but follow me around for a bit. I noticed that I was not the only person receiving such attention. Every Western tourist was being stared at in sheer fascination. I had not realized to the extent to which this cultural trait would be in existence. However, I will say that it did bother me because as a New Yorker, I am used to everyone minding their own business. What bothered me more was the sly under the breath comments that were uttered at everyone "different."
Later, after finding my roommates, we tried to catch a taxi outside of Spencer Mall at the main entrance at Mount Road. If you are ever in this area, it is heavily saturated with tourists which also means it is heavily overpriced. Every auto-karan (auto-guy) will charge exorbitant prices, so it is best to walk away from spencer's and catch an auto down the street. its frustrating and at times insulting the way you have to argue for a good price, especially when you get a mean guy who laughs and drives away. of course, its not really that bad if you compare the amount we would pay an nyc taxi cab driver. however, i think now i simply get a thrill out of arguing and yelling numbers out in tamil.
at this point, i am sort of weary of being a woman in chennai. i do not feel as free or confident as i would in new york. i will explore this in future posts.
saturday was my first real day as a chennai explorer. i woke up and joined family friends on a visit to "globus" a fairly nice department store somewhere in central chennai. i ended up purchasing a few salvar kameeze separates that im hoping combined with my random kurthi tops will be enough indian clothes to get me through the summer. afterwards i went home, had lunch and then walked to the local spencer's grocery store in search of ice cream with shreeja, who is 8 years old. we couldn't find ice cream, but i was happy that i was able to find garnier fructis conditioner and other products that i had feared would not be available in chennai.
Later, I regressed back to my hostel, where my temporary
roommates were planning on going on a shopping trip. So, of course, I skipped the reading and work I had to do and jumped in an auto with them. We stepped outside of the IFMR gates and walked down the street until we were able to flag down an auto. After bargaining for a few minutes, we got the price of 50 rupees, which was still over priced but better than other prices.We sped past one very foul smelling river and traffic-packed intersections to our final destination: spencer mall.
We jumped out of the auto and into a multilevel shopping mall. I will say that I was impressed, because I didn't realize that Chennai had such a large mall. I know this is an ignorant assessment because the last time I spent more than 2 days in this city was almost 15 years ago.
In any case, I walked by tons of retail stores including a bunch of American retailers like Guess, Florsheim and Giordano. The only reason i point them out was that the window displays in these stores were somewhat risque' as compared to the clothing styles of most people in Chennai, from what I have observed.We stopped at regal shoes where I purchased a pair of over priced chapals (Hindi word for sandals). What struck me was the number of people available to help me find a shoe, select a shoe and try on a pair. Once i had purchased my chapals, we walked up to the food court. On our way we walked by an Australian bakery that was being manned by young men probably around the age of twenty. They gave us each a free cookie, hot from the oven; chocolate chip with sort of a coconut twist. Then we stopped by Sree's Sweet / Snack Shop. This is the kind of place you see in Edison, NJ, serving chat items and a range of home made sweets, the difference being that the food quality was really good. The counter service was also friendly and quick, which I really liked. (The woman manning the sweets counter allowed us to try two different kinds of sweets for free.) This is a good place for an unhealthy and tasty snack if you are in the neighborhood.
As we made our way to the door, I realized I had made a mistake and did not like my slippers. So, I went back to Regal Shoes to return the shoes. When I approached the manager he told me in no uncertain terms that I could not return items. His words were "I'm sorry madam, we do not return items only exchange." I was polite and let him know that I would be back when I had more time. (For you shoppers out there, just be warned that while stores can do refunds, they tell everyone that only exchanges are available.)
When I stepped back out into the central mall area, my roommates were gone. I looked around, walked through the door and asked one of the many store security guards milling around, but no one had seen them. I thought I would try to call them, when I realized that I didn't have my book of phone numbers. So, I roamed about trying to find them. As I traversed through the mall, I began to notice the overwhelming stares coming from families, groups of young teenage boys and less commonly from girls. Some of the groups of boys would not only stare but follow me around for a bit. I noticed that I was not the only person receiving such attention. Every Western tourist was being stared at in sheer fascination. I had not realized to the extent to which this cultural trait would be in existence. However, I will say that it did bother me because as a New Yorker, I am used to everyone minding their own business. What bothered me more was the sly under the breath comments that were uttered at everyone "different."
Later, after finding my roommates, we tried to catch a taxi outside of Spencer Mall at the main entrance at Mount Road. If you are ever in this area, it is heavily saturated with tourists which also means it is heavily overpriced. Every auto-karan (auto-guy) will charge exorbitant prices, so it is best to walk away from spencer's and catch an auto down the street. its frustrating and at times insulting the way you have to argue for a good price, especially when you get a mean guy who laughs and drives away. of course, its not really that bad if you compare the amount we would pay an nyc taxi cab driver. however, i think now i simply get a thrill out of arguing and yelling numbers out in tamil.
at this point, i am sort of weary of being a woman in chennai. i do not feel as free or confident as i would in new york. i will explore this in future posts.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
beep beep
i awoke to a bumpy landing just after 8pm, as the plane touched down in chennai airport. i gathered my things and joined the line of passengers disembarking from the plane. i walked into the baggage claim area and waited anxiously for my bag. my mom had told me way too many stories about people rummaging through luggage. luckily, my luggage did not meet such a fate on this journey. i got my bags and then prepared to walk through the masses of drivers who would be holding signs for expectant passengers. i walked just outside of the doors and found a young boy holding a sign with my name on it. relief washed over me and i walked over and waited for him to go and collect his ambassador. (old school indian car.)
I hopped in the car and sat looking out the window at Chennai. My driver was a young boy who could not have been more than 19 or 20. It always makes me feel bad when someone who is a kid is working at 9pm at night doing something as laborious as driving around the city at odd hours. (though that can be said for many parts of the world.) in any case we sped down one very long road, that was packed with traffic. i was actually surprised at the traffic since it was 9pm and the last time i had come to chennai it had been relatively less trafficky. however, there were cars, motorbikes, lorries and of course autos - everywhere i looked. i also had forgotten how insane the traffic could be. people cutting one another off, driving so close to the next car that you could literally reach into someone's window and grab their purse if you were so inclined. however, no one india seems to view edgy behavior/ cutting people off as rude, it is just sort of part of the rhythm of the road. if you are a first time visitor, just trust that your driver does know what he's doing, even if it seems like he does not.
at times i thought i was going to be driven off to some far corner of tamil nadu, but as promised, my driver, after 40 minutes of intense driving, got me to the ifmr campus in nungumbakam. when i arrived, a security guard and another gentleman who ran the cantene were there to greet me. "Veena?" I was surprised, and happy to know that they had in fact heard of my arrival. The security guard helped me lug my bag up to the third floor. (He had a harder time picking it up than I did.) Also, he only bothered to help me after the cantene manager prompted him. After three long flights of stairs, we finally got upstairs, only to find that my roommates were not available. I ended up depositing my things in a neighbor's room and going to the computer lab. My roommates eventually made it home and I finally walked into a simple air conditioned room with three beds and a television that was blaring hindi. begin: life in india.
This is a picture of my hostel. I took this on Friday morning.
I hopped in the car and sat looking out the window at Chennai. My driver was a young boy who could not have been more than 19 or 20. It always makes me feel bad when someone who is a kid is working at 9pm at night doing something as laborious as driving around the city at odd hours. (though that can be said for many parts of the world.) in any case we sped down one very long road, that was packed with traffic. i was actually surprised at the traffic since it was 9pm and the last time i had come to chennai it had been relatively less trafficky. however, there were cars, motorbikes, lorries and of course autos - everywhere i looked. i also had forgotten how insane the traffic could be. people cutting one another off, driving so close to the next car that you could literally reach into someone's window and grab their purse if you were so inclined. however, no one india seems to view edgy behavior/ cutting people off as rude, it is just sort of part of the rhythm of the road. if you are a first time visitor, just trust that your driver does know what he's doing, even if it seems like he does not.
at times i thought i was going to be driven off to some far corner of tamil nadu, but as promised, my driver, after 40 minutes of intense driving, got me to the ifmr campus in nungumbakam. when i arrived, a security guard and another gentleman who ran the cantene were there to greet me. "Veena?" I was surprised, and happy to know that they had in fact heard of my arrival. The security guard helped me lug my bag up to the third floor. (He had a harder time picking it up than I did.) Also, he only bothered to help me after the cantene manager prompted him. After three long flights of stairs, we finally got upstairs, only to find that my roommates were not available. I ended up depositing my things in a neighbor's room and going to the computer lab. My roommates eventually made it home and I finally walked into a simple air conditioned room with three beds and a television that was blaring hindi. begin: life in india.
This is a picture of my hostel. I took this on Friday morning.
Friday, June 1, 2007
en route
i left my apartment at 5:45am on wednesday, checked into my flight and was flying across the atlantic ocean shortly after 8:00am. after a short layover in london, in the most gorgeous airport lounge i have seen (the virgin atlantic lounge) i hopped on a plane to delhi.
I moved quickly through customs and managed to finagle my way into the A/C lounge where I found the only other American in the airport. He was a businessman from Texas. He had a thick drawl and was visibly uncomfortable due to heat and whatever else. Dressed in a polo shirt, jeans and dress socks with penny loafers, he didn't exactly look prepared for the terrain. we rode the shuttle to the domestic terminals together and that was the last i saw of him. i think he was en route to bangalore.
I finally got to the ticket counter at Jet Airways to do an early check-in only to be laughed at by the counter staff because I had arrived 4 hours early. Of course, they did not know I had just stepped off a plane from New York. However, the little stub of a ticket I did have did allow me entrance into the Delhi terminal. Translation: A/C. I lugged my 50+ pound bag, my laptop bag and my northface backpack around the airport until I finally came upon a spot directly opposite to the revolving fan. I leaned my samsonite up against the pillar and plopped on top of it and took out a newsweek. Occasionally when my glance went above the top of the magazine, i would catch the unsubtle stares in my direction. at one point, an entire family, gestured at me and spoke softly in hindi. this type of exchange went on for 3 hours, as i quietly sat atop my suitcase and tried to read a book.
i eventually got to enter the boarding area and managed to find a real seat next to this woman who happened to be a professor at rider university. we chatted and she commented on the mass chaos in the airport. Then only did I realize that every flight being announce was backed up and there was no boarding procedure just droves of people fighting for a spot in line. my flight was of course delayed. by this point, i was exhausted, sweating because the large outside doors were allowing hot air... I couldn't understand why everything was so slow, so disorganized, especially compared to my last visit. (I suspect that summer time traffic had a lot to do with it.) Eventually however, my flight was announced, and I pushed past several people and boarded the bus that took us to Jet Airways. I was finally on my way to Chennai.
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