for those of you following my blog..i added an entry that sums up my study ..its actually two entries, that talk about my overall impression of the first phase of the study and the interview process.. because they are listed sequentially, they are further below... so please page down and check those out, because I think it will give you some sense of the types of information we were trying to gather. of course, its a preliminary analysis, that comes solely from my own impressions and recollections of interviews and interactions i had with the rural women in karnataka.
another intern will be carrying a second phase of the study on with an ngo in tamil nadu called hand in hand... i will definitely try to keep updated on what happens with that part of the study, as we will eventually collaborate in the fall to write a paper of our results..
i am now writing from a internet cafe in kolkata, which is a really awesome city... i have some updates to post when i have more time, but for now, i will say that my last few weeks in chennai made me really miss home... it was hard to shuttel between people's floors and random hotels... i think i could work abroad, but i would need one place, even a dumpy place, to call my own... traveling here and there, with just a backpack and no sense of "home" really got to me. at the same time, it was nice to realize that despite the vast differences and challenging experiences i had this summer that i'm not averse to coming back and doing a period of extended research here in india...but i will need my own place..
okay please read below, because i would love to hear your comments...
more from me later :)
Monday, July 30, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
identity crisis
i am sort of apprehensive about this post because of the positive feedback from the last post. I feel like anything I write has the potential to disappoint, as many of you (three to be exact) mentioned that the last one was the most "veena" that you have seen thus far. (Ha! I act like I'm JK Rowling and Harry Potter 7 just came out.. :) )
Anyway, something has been bothering me for the last few weeks, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it, until today, when I rode for five hours on the KSRTC bus down to Bangalore. In order to set up for this post, I am going to reference the following excerpt of my own writing:
"I was sitting in the sixth floor lounge of my school at 2am with the only other person in the building. We were both feverishly working on projects that were to be turned in early the next morning. The lounge was dank, and filled with yellow light. Each of us had spread our things all over a table and were trying to make sense of complex topics at such a late hour. We both happened to be looking around at the same moment, as so often happens when one is working late into the night and eventually got to talking. We meandered through topics until we arrived at the topic of Indian culture. He was Indian, but unlike me had grown up in India but had completed his higher education in the United States. His accent had a touch of Bombay and a smidge of British. Somehow we managed to talk about how being Indian had impacted our youth. The next thing I knew, I found myself recounting in detail the way we would celebrate everything from Navaratri (“nine nights”, a festival celebrating good over evil) to Krishna Jayanti (Lord Krishna’s birthday) at my house.
I recalled the way my grandmother would paint little feet on our front porch to depict young Lord Krishna sneaking into each home to steal sweets. I explained that one of my fondest memories was of Vinayaga Chathurthi (Lord Vinayagar’s Birthday). This holiday was of particular importance because it was my “favorite” god after a toothache incident in Chennai circa 1987. Vinayaga Chathurthi was also the holiday where we would get home made korkatai (steamed sweet rice dumplings filled with brown sugar, nuts and ghee). Lalithamma would go so far as to shape the korkatais into a small Ganesh, complete with kum-kum (red powder that is applied to the forehead as a blessing).
On Navaratri, my mom would work for weeks to set up this beautiful display of dolls, stacked on silk sari-lined steps. We would have people over every evening; women would sing and talk and admire the dolls that my mom had taken great pains to display, while the men who visited would sit in the living room and eat through tons of bakshanam (snacks and sweets) that mom and Lalithamma had made. We would end the day by doing an arti (small ceremony involving a valakku (brass candleholder using a handmade wick) and a mixture of manjal). During Navaratri, my mother, sister and I would also visit others' homes, who would also setup a gollu display. During that same week, we would wrap up our school books for Saraswati Pooja, and my dad would hand them back to us after the pooja was complete so that we would do well in our studies.
The other holiday that I loved, was Tamil New Year (Vishugani) because we would wake up with our eyes closed and be led by my parents downstairs to the god room (room in our house where with all of the religious idols/books, also where my dad and grandmother did their daily prayers). When we opened our eyes, we would see a room full of fruits, grains, rice and a small mirror that sat in a pile of money. We would get money from mom, dad and Lalithamma (who would always take the opportunity to slip us a $20 :) or more...) and sometimes on Diwali we would get new clothes...
Then there were the daily things - we spoke Tamil at home, especially with my grandmother and always spent time with our family on weekends. Oh yeah, I recalled with a laugh "my dad made me stay at home during the first few months of senior year in high school so I could study for the SATs." At the time I remember thinking, "only Indian parents are like this!" There were also droves of relatives dropping by unannounced, plenty of good food on a daily basis, sweets and yummy fried treats (bhaji, pakora, casery) that would be whipped together in minutes at the nearest hint of a visitor. There was general hospitality, a love for song and dance and family; Bharathanatyam and Karnatic music classes and the obsession on the part of both my parents for us to get a good education.... and the conversation continued like this."
These events, I recounted to my friend, were the things that made up my "Indian" identity.
Until I got here this summer, had never thought that these things might just be a version of Indian, and not what it was all about. Well I suppose the naive part of me thought that south indians were similar to me, in the way I was raised, the food I ate, the values we held important. I was wrong, but I had no idea how wrong I really was. Being an ethnic Indian in America is nothing like being an Indian in India. The language, the culture, the mannerisms, the way things work, everything is completely different.
Something else that has been really confusing to me is that if I speak Tamil at a restaurant or to anyone anywhere really, they will say "Are you a Brahmin?" This has happened to me about 15 times over the course of the summer, which I think, is a lot. I couldn't figure out what I was saying that would lead people to this conclusion, albeit it is in fact true, I do hail from a Brahmin family. The other night, the waiter at the restaurant knew I was Brahmin when I told him Lalithamma's village, "Kalpathy." It is bizarre, if someone is a Brahmin, they get excited to talk to me, will tell me about their family etc. Its as if I have some bond with them, that I had never known about - is there a brahmin connection of which I am unaware? All of this has made me so confused - i thought caste was dead in india? yeah, i know, naive! and while it is not pronounced, it still exists, in the way people talk and treat one another based on who they are and where they are from. I think some people, after realizing that I am Brahmin, are sort of annoyed with me, while others are happy/proud (the latter being when they too are Brahmins). Also the Indians here, who grew up here, have this whole thing about "Tam Brahm" which is apparently some label for Tamil Brahmins and the way they are...I still have not figured this out, but it sounds like a very condescending, negative label from what I have inferred. I will say now that I am no Tam Brahm, my family hails from Kerala and as far as I know, I don't have any snobby Brahmin characteristics...
But I guess this just goes back to my initial confusion or conflict about what it means to be Indian. It is certainly not one thing, but could it be that there are nearly no similarities between me and the 1 billion people here aside from facial features, skin tone and hair color? How is it that only in a relatives home, a palaghat tamil speaking home at that, do I feel like I do in my own house, and not even then, depending on whose home I am in? Is this why masses of people are still so grounded in their own traditions, because each region, the next town, could be so different they dont want to risk dealing with change?
What about the super rich indians? The ones that scare me because they are young men and women, dressing sexy, going out late at night, drinking, dancing, acting like they are ...well.... americans/westerners - whatever you want to call it... are they acting like us? or was this cultural evolution imminent?
When I was sick a few weeks ago, I spent several evenings watching "B4U" television and other music video channels and was shocked, half of them i couldn't actually watch the whole way through because of the overtly sexual nature of the videos. Its so weird to me because when i watch a janet jackson/j-lo etc. videos, they are sexy, they might even be about sex, but I'm not offended by them, I don't feel like the directors are screaming "SEX" However, when i watch the new "hey baby" Hindi music video, where young Indian men, spray girls with champagne, as girls, with tight tops and short skirts dance around in a Fergie-like fashion, I think "oh my goodness is this really India? The modest, conservative India I thought I knew?"
And its not JUST the hindi movies, its all the channels, even the south indian films; instead of women in clubs, its men and women in a village. The women will be wearing a small top that exposes her midriff, an embroidered miniskirt that shows off her legs, while she dances in an inappropriate way, that is not reminiscent of talent or culture. Perhaps it is more affronting because of my understanding of Indian culture. Perhaps I (veena the American) make more allowances for the sexy/sexual behavior of American pop culture icons than I do for Indians. Perhaps again, I am looking at Indian pop culture through my conservative upbringing lens, and therefore I cannot look at it the way other Indians do...? Then I think, what about Bharathanatyam? What about classical dance, and the amazing lyricists and songwriters you have here? What is this new obsession that this country has with sex/modernity/money etc?
The most confusing thing is that while the movies, commercials, billboards and tv shows seem to display this semblance of modernity, I still see the same gender, caste and class rules play out here. It actually seems like they are more pronounced, then they are in other parts of the world. I see that girls are still expected to behave a certain way, follow their parent's rules, marry the man they choose for her and so on. An Indian girl, even from a family who encourages her college education is still less likely to work after she is married. You also won't find that many women out at night. If you are out at night (at least from what I can tell) its because you are really rich and you have a driver and your parents will allow you to go out. I am led to this conclusion based on my experiences at a few Bangalore/Chennai hotels/bars.
Then there is the inter-class/caste relations.... The way upper caste people treat their housekeepers (or servants as they are called here), their drivers and cooks. The fact that people in the Dalit community, still live on the outskirts of villages and are not mainstreamed into the regular parts of society. The way even children yell or command their ayahs (nannies) or maid servants to "come here! get this!" The shock that is displayed when I go to rinse my own plate, as if it isn't a job that I am not supposed to do...(this happened to me several times in Delhi last year when I was visiting friends of my cousins).
where are they going? who am i? is there a connection? is my palaghat indian upbringing within the US so structured that I cannot relate to the struggles with modernity, issues of caste/class etc? What would life have been like had my parents decided to come back to this country? (I will say that I am so thankful that they didn't because as a woman, I enjoy freedoms that are still not common here in India.)
I guess what I am left with at the moment is more questions.... Do I have any conclusions? Not really...
But - I do know that i am not an (I) indian, as in, I am most definitely not from this country. I'm also not an NRI (non resident indian), because its not as if I relate to anything at a sociocultural level, i don't have a "well" of Indian knowledge to draw from. I guess that leaves me with POI (person of Indian origin), yes, perhaps thats the one that makes sense... I identify with some part of this culture, but overall, I am from somewhere else... I, veena, nationally an American, ethnically Indian, culturally/socially/emotionally --- Im still not certain about the answer to this....looks like what I have is a slight identity crisis. ;)
Anyway, something has been bothering me for the last few weeks, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it, until today, when I rode for five hours on the KSRTC bus down to Bangalore. In order to set up for this post, I am going to reference the following excerpt of my own writing:
"I was sitting in the sixth floor lounge of my school at 2am with the only other person in the building. We were both feverishly working on projects that were to be turned in early the next morning. The lounge was dank, and filled with yellow light. Each of us had spread our things all over a table and were trying to make sense of complex topics at such a late hour. We both happened to be looking around at the same moment, as so often happens when one is working late into the night and eventually got to talking. We meandered through topics until we arrived at the topic of Indian culture. He was Indian, but unlike me had grown up in India but had completed his higher education in the United States. His accent had a touch of Bombay and a smidge of British. Somehow we managed to talk about how being Indian had impacted our youth. The next thing I knew, I found myself recounting in detail the way we would celebrate everything from Navaratri (“nine nights”, a festival celebrating good over evil) to Krishna Jayanti (Lord Krishna’s birthday) at my house.
I recalled the way my grandmother would paint little feet on our front porch to depict young Lord Krishna sneaking into each home to steal sweets. I explained that one of my fondest memories was of Vinayaga Chathurthi (Lord Vinayagar’s Birthday). This holiday was of particular importance because it was my “favorite” god after a toothache incident in Chennai circa 1987. Vinayaga Chathurthi was also the holiday where we would get home made korkatai (steamed sweet rice dumplings filled with brown sugar, nuts and ghee). Lalithamma would go so far as to shape the korkatais into a small Ganesh, complete with kum-kum (red powder that is applied to the forehead as a blessing).
On Navaratri, my mom would work for weeks to set up this beautiful display of dolls, stacked on silk sari-lined steps. We would have people over every evening; women would sing and talk and admire the dolls that my mom had taken great pains to display, while the men who visited would sit in the living room and eat through tons of bakshanam (snacks and sweets) that mom and Lalithamma had made. We would end the day by doing an arti (small ceremony involving a valakku (brass candleholder using a handmade wick) and a mixture of manjal). During Navaratri, my mother, sister and I would also visit others' homes, who would also setup a gollu display. During that same week, we would wrap up our school books for Saraswati Pooja, and my dad would hand them back to us after the pooja was complete so that we would do well in our studies.
The other holiday that I loved, was Tamil New Year (Vishugani) because we would wake up with our eyes closed and be led by my parents downstairs to the god room (room in our house where with all of the religious idols/books, also where my dad and grandmother did their daily prayers). When we opened our eyes, we would see a room full of fruits, grains, rice and a small mirror that sat in a pile of money. We would get money from mom, dad and Lalithamma (who would always take the opportunity to slip us a $20 :) or more...) and sometimes on Diwali we would get new clothes...
Then there were the daily things - we spoke Tamil at home, especially with my grandmother and always spent time with our family on weekends. Oh yeah, I recalled with a laugh "my dad made me stay at home during the first few months of senior year in high school so I could study for the SATs." At the time I remember thinking, "only Indian parents are like this!" There were also droves of relatives dropping by unannounced, plenty of good food on a daily basis, sweets and yummy fried treats (bhaji, pakora, casery) that would be whipped together in minutes at the nearest hint of a visitor. There was general hospitality, a love for song and dance and family; Bharathanatyam and Karnatic music classes and the obsession on the part of both my parents for us to get a good education.... and the conversation continued like this."
These events, I recounted to my friend, were the things that made up my "Indian" identity.
Until I got here this summer, had never thought that these things might just be a version of Indian, and not what it was all about. Well I suppose the naive part of me thought that south indians were similar to me, in the way I was raised, the food I ate, the values we held important. I was wrong, but I had no idea how wrong I really was. Being an ethnic Indian in America is nothing like being an Indian in India. The language, the culture, the mannerisms, the way things work, everything is completely different.
Something else that has been really confusing to me is that if I speak Tamil at a restaurant or to anyone anywhere really, they will say "Are you a Brahmin?" This has happened to me about 15 times over the course of the summer, which I think, is a lot. I couldn't figure out what I was saying that would lead people to this conclusion, albeit it is in fact true, I do hail from a Brahmin family. The other night, the waiter at the restaurant knew I was Brahmin when I told him Lalithamma's village, "Kalpathy." It is bizarre, if someone is a Brahmin, they get excited to talk to me, will tell me about their family etc. Its as if I have some bond with them, that I had never known about - is there a brahmin connection of which I am unaware? All of this has made me so confused - i thought caste was dead in india? yeah, i know, naive! and while it is not pronounced, it still exists, in the way people talk and treat one another based on who they are and where they are from. I think some people, after realizing that I am Brahmin, are sort of annoyed with me, while others are happy/proud (the latter being when they too are Brahmins). Also the Indians here, who grew up here, have this whole thing about "Tam Brahm" which is apparently some label for Tamil Brahmins and the way they are...I still have not figured this out, but it sounds like a very condescending, negative label from what I have inferred. I will say now that I am no Tam Brahm, my family hails from Kerala and as far as I know, I don't have any snobby Brahmin characteristics...
But I guess this just goes back to my initial confusion or conflict about what it means to be Indian. It is certainly not one thing, but could it be that there are nearly no similarities between me and the 1 billion people here aside from facial features, skin tone and hair color? How is it that only in a relatives home, a palaghat tamil speaking home at that, do I feel like I do in my own house, and not even then, depending on whose home I am in? Is this why masses of people are still so grounded in their own traditions, because each region, the next town, could be so different they dont want to risk dealing with change?
What about the super rich indians? The ones that scare me because they are young men and women, dressing sexy, going out late at night, drinking, dancing, acting like they are ...well.... americans/westerners - whatever you want to call it... are they acting like us? or was this cultural evolution imminent?
When I was sick a few weeks ago, I spent several evenings watching "B4U" television and other music video channels and was shocked, half of them i couldn't actually watch the whole way through because of the overtly sexual nature of the videos. Its so weird to me because when i watch a janet jackson/j-lo etc. videos, they are sexy, they might even be about sex, but I'm not offended by them, I don't feel like the directors are screaming "SEX" However, when i watch the new "hey baby" Hindi music video, where young Indian men, spray girls with champagne, as girls, with tight tops and short skirts dance around in a Fergie-like fashion, I think "oh my goodness is this really India? The modest, conservative India I thought I knew?"
And its not JUST the hindi movies, its all the channels, even the south indian films; instead of women in clubs, its men and women in a village. The women will be wearing a small top that exposes her midriff, an embroidered miniskirt that shows off her legs, while she dances in an inappropriate way, that is not reminiscent of talent or culture. Perhaps it is more affronting because of my understanding of Indian culture. Perhaps I (veena the American) make more allowances for the sexy/sexual behavior of American pop culture icons than I do for Indians. Perhaps again, I am looking at Indian pop culture through my conservative upbringing lens, and therefore I cannot look at it the way other Indians do...? Then I think, what about Bharathanatyam? What about classical dance, and the amazing lyricists and songwriters you have here? What is this new obsession that this country has with sex/modernity/money etc?
The most confusing thing is that while the movies, commercials, billboards and tv shows seem to display this semblance of modernity, I still see the same gender, caste and class rules play out here. It actually seems like they are more pronounced, then they are in other parts of the world. I see that girls are still expected to behave a certain way, follow their parent's rules, marry the man they choose for her and so on. An Indian girl, even from a family who encourages her college education is still less likely to work after she is married. You also won't find that many women out at night. If you are out at night (at least from what I can tell) its because you are really rich and you have a driver and your parents will allow you to go out. I am led to this conclusion based on my experiences at a few Bangalore/Chennai hotels/bars.
Then there is the inter-class/caste relations.... The way upper caste people treat their housekeepers (or servants as they are called here), their drivers and cooks. The fact that people in the Dalit community, still live on the outskirts of villages and are not mainstreamed into the regular parts of society. The way even children yell or command their ayahs (nannies) or maid servants to "come here! get this!" The shock that is displayed when I go to rinse my own plate, as if it isn't a job that I am not supposed to do...(this happened to me several times in Delhi last year when I was visiting friends of my cousins).
where are they going? who am i? is there a connection? is my palaghat indian upbringing within the US so structured that I cannot relate to the struggles with modernity, issues of caste/class etc? What would life have been like had my parents decided to come back to this country? (I will say that I am so thankful that they didn't because as a woman, I enjoy freedoms that are still not common here in India.)
I guess what I am left with at the moment is more questions.... Do I have any conclusions? Not really...
But - I do know that i am not an (I) indian, as in, I am most definitely not from this country. I'm also not an NRI (non resident indian), because its not as if I relate to anything at a sociocultural level, i don't have a "well" of Indian knowledge to draw from. I guess that leaves me with POI (person of Indian origin), yes, perhaps thats the one that makes sense... I identify with some part of this culture, but overall, I am from somewhere else... I, veena, nationally an American, ethnically Indian, culturally/socially/emotionally --- Im still not certain about the answer to this....looks like what I have is a slight identity crisis. ;)
Thursday, July 19, 2007
on cleanliness
I am sitting in my dirty hotel room literally counting down the hours till I can leave this place, ChitraDurga. Namely, the Aishwarya Fort, which remains the dirtiest hotel at which I have stayed. Now, I have stayed at worse establishments, but they usually add an "s" to hotel (hostel....mmmkay?)
There are all of these odd stains on the walls, on my sheets. The other night I was trying to get some sleep because I had a stomach virus from something I ate, from their kitchen, when I woke up to the apocalypse, or so I thought. It turns out that my room was directly above the dishwashing area or something. I was so furious. I was sweaty, achy and feeling so ill from not being able to keep anything down all day and now I was waking up to pots and pans. I called the room service guys and all they could say was "umm what madam? ...room number?" Its at times like these I am so frustrated with how things work here. No one should have been sleeping in that room, it was so loud I was boggled as to how they ever rented this room out to guests. At that point, I ran downstairs and complained about the noise and they moved me to the third floor. The room was identical, though this time there was no underwear in the bathroom, so that was a slight improvement.
oh yeah, in the last bathroom, i even found a bindi still stuck to the bathroom wall and a tiny little spider in the corner next to my sink.
oh it gets better.. i went down to check to make sure i didn't leave anything in the room, and the boys had already "remade" the bed, in the dirty stomach virus sheets I had just gotten out of! i was like "YOU HAVE TO ChANGE THEM I AM SICK!" and they nodded "oh okay madame" i feel bad for the next guy who has to sleep there...ewwww....
From what I understood, people who stay in hotels in these remote areas are those who do not have relatives to stay with and therefore a hotel is a last resort. (no pun intended!) My Mani uncle mentioned that Indian hotels weren't even majorly used by businessmen until the last 30 years, and in rural areas, this is still not a common thing. Some of the nicest, five star hotels I have been to are in India, but I guess the lack of need in more rural areas, means that they are not held to as high standards. .... either way, i don't get stains on the walls and not changing the sheets, that to me, is just common sense, regardless of what country i am in.
i guess all that to say is that while i always thought there was this over emphasis on cleanliness in indian culture, it really isn't there in a widespread nature. people might broom the hell out of the area in front of their small shop, but then they will broom all the dirt from their shop straight into the street. "chakadai!" as my family calls it.... so even though someone's storefront is clean, the actual street and surrounding location is still disgusting, full of trash, poop etc.
This week I was waiting for someone to recharge my cell phone, when I saw this little girl with a pavadai chattai (outfit for younger girls that consists of a matching top and silk skirt with a big border). She screamed something in Kannada at her mother, then lifted up her skirt and just peed right there in the street. It was one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen. Its bad enough that all over the rural areas, and actually even in big cities, that men pull up against any wall on a major or minor road, to take a leek, but to see a little girl, just lift up her skirt and have no cares, as she stepped over a puddle of her own pee, was just too funny. It was also definitely gross, and resulted in me doubting every wet spot on the street thereinafter.
I don't get how people can hire all these people to come clean their dishes, dust everything, wash the floors, on a daily basis, and also simultaneously throw shit out onto the street. People drink tea in those little plastic or paper cups and they just throw them out. The only garbage cans around, don't get cleaned out often and always are swarming with flies.
I know I'm painting a really dire picture, but it really frustrates me that there's a cleanliness hypocrisy here. Indians are obsessed with cleanliness within boundaries, and beyond that they are completely comfortable littering the streets, not caring for the environment even a little bit. It happens even in NYC, but not to the degree with which it happens here, at least that's the way I see it.
Also - this seems to carry over into the way they are doing business. They are happy to pollute and use extra pesticides, and reason that the western countries had their opportunity to destroy the environment. While this is true, countries like India, China and Brazil, that are now major manufacturers of everything from cars to designer jeans need to learn from our mistakes, not make them again, because things like global warming and climate change can't be put on hold. We got a lot of hogwash from one of the TATA directors, who talked all sorts of BS about Corporate social responsibility but also could not answer the simple question of "do you practice what you preach? are your factories really green?" Of course they're not TATA! you can't talk green and not walk green or something like that.... more on this later when i get more research...
There are all of these odd stains on the walls, on my sheets. The other night I was trying to get some sleep because I had a stomach virus from something I ate, from their kitchen, when I woke up to the apocalypse, or so I thought. It turns out that my room was directly above the dishwashing area or something. I was so furious. I was sweaty, achy and feeling so ill from not being able to keep anything down all day and now I was waking up to pots and pans. I called the room service guys and all they could say was "umm what madam? ...room number?" Its at times like these I am so frustrated with how things work here. No one should have been sleeping in that room, it was so loud I was boggled as to how they ever rented this room out to guests. At that point, I ran downstairs and complained about the noise and they moved me to the third floor. The room was identical, though this time there was no underwear in the bathroom, so that was a slight improvement.
oh yeah, in the last bathroom, i even found a bindi still stuck to the bathroom wall and a tiny little spider in the corner next to my sink.
oh it gets better.. i went down to check to make sure i didn't leave anything in the room, and the boys had already "remade" the bed, in the dirty stomach virus sheets I had just gotten out of! i was like "YOU HAVE TO ChANGE THEM I AM SICK!" and they nodded "oh okay madame" i feel bad for the next guy who has to sleep there...ewwww....
From what I understood, people who stay in hotels in these remote areas are those who do not have relatives to stay with and therefore a hotel is a last resort. (no pun intended!) My Mani uncle mentioned that Indian hotels weren't even majorly used by businessmen until the last 30 years, and in rural areas, this is still not a common thing. Some of the nicest, five star hotels I have been to are in India, but I guess the lack of need in more rural areas, means that they are not held to as high standards. .... either way, i don't get stains on the walls and not changing the sheets, that to me, is just common sense, regardless of what country i am in.
i guess all that to say is that while i always thought there was this over emphasis on cleanliness in indian culture, it really isn't there in a widespread nature. people might broom the hell out of the area in front of their small shop, but then they will broom all the dirt from their shop straight into the street. "chakadai!" as my family calls it.... so even though someone's storefront is clean, the actual street and surrounding location is still disgusting, full of trash, poop etc.
This week I was waiting for someone to recharge my cell phone, when I saw this little girl with a pavadai chattai (outfit for younger girls that consists of a matching top and silk skirt with a big border). She screamed something in Kannada at her mother, then lifted up her skirt and just peed right there in the street. It was one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen. Its bad enough that all over the rural areas, and actually even in big cities, that men pull up against any wall on a major or minor road, to take a leek, but to see a little girl, just lift up her skirt and have no cares, as she stepped over a puddle of her own pee, was just too funny. It was also definitely gross, and resulted in me doubting every wet spot on the street thereinafter.
I don't get how people can hire all these people to come clean their dishes, dust everything, wash the floors, on a daily basis, and also simultaneously throw shit out onto the street. People drink tea in those little plastic or paper cups and they just throw them out. The only garbage cans around, don't get cleaned out often and always are swarming with flies.
I know I'm painting a really dire picture, but it really frustrates me that there's a cleanliness hypocrisy here. Indians are obsessed with cleanliness within boundaries, and beyond that they are completely comfortable littering the streets, not caring for the environment even a little bit. It happens even in NYC, but not to the degree with which it happens here, at least that's the way I see it.
Also - this seems to carry over into the way they are doing business. They are happy to pollute and use extra pesticides, and reason that the western countries had their opportunity to destroy the environment. While this is true, countries like India, China and Brazil, that are now major manufacturers of everything from cars to designer jeans need to learn from our mistakes, not make them again, because things like global warming and climate change can't be put on hold. We got a lot of hogwash from one of the TATA directors, who talked all sorts of BS about Corporate social responsibility but also could not answer the simple question of "do you practice what you preach? are your factories really green?" Of course they're not TATA! you can't talk green and not walk green or something like that.... more on this later when i get more research...
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
closing remarks on myrada interviews
Tomorrow, July 18, marks the end of our field visits with Myrada SHG groups.
Over the last month we have talked with almost 100 women, who are long-time participants in Myrada self-help groups or sanghas. With the exception of two groups, all of the sanghas are five years or older. The majority of the women that we have spoken with are involved in agriculture, daily labor and small businesses like tailoring and petty shops. Most of the husbands and other family members are also involved in similar trades. We have seen from our initial survey responses the sangha women usually take loans to bolster an existing family business or more often, purchase items like seeds and fertilizers for agricultural purposes.
The number of people who own their own homes and own land is rather significant. However, most landowners have less than ten acres of land, with very few families having landholdings that exceed this amount. Several families own their own home or live with (and in some cases care for) parents and in-laws. The sangha members have often told us that they will eventually inherit these family homes when their parents or in-laws pass away. Often, this property is inherited from the husband’s parents.
We found that people save by purchasing gold and livestock when they had larger sums of money. Often sangha women mentioned that they pooled resources to take a loan out or use the interest on savings to purchase gold or sheep for each woman in the group. Overall however, the savings in sangha is minimal, with women saving only Rs. 10 – 20 weekly, which amounts to about Rs. 40 – 80 in a month. Those women who can afford to save more, usually do so in a post office or a bank. Some women even told us that the way they save money was to lend to others, which is often financed by a loan from the sangha, or other income. While there is the existence (moreso in rural areas) of chit funds, PIGMYs and ROSCAs, they seem to be more common amongst men and people who are not sangha members.
In terms of loan usage, as described above, most people use loans for business and agricultural purposes. We also saw that several parents who sent children for higher education took loans for things like nursing school and technical training. What we did see however, was that there were several cases, where sangha members or their family members have loans from both the sangha and other sources, mainly money lenders and family/friends. Banks seem to offer the best interest rates (Rs. 1/100 and in some cases 80 paise / 100) but more often than not, people would have taken from moneylenders. Most people mentioned that they took from other sources for weddings, sudden illnesses and agricultural purposes. Often, it was because they had an existing sangha loan and still needed more credit for the aforementioned reasons or others.
Most women who have young or adolescent children seem to be educating them till at least SLC (10th grade), which is the equivalent of getting a high school diploma. Education beyond SLC requires additional funding even for government colleges. Students need to pass and write government or private exams to get into pre-university courses. Often, we have heard that children have gotten to SLC and decided not to continue their education because they failed the college exams. Other difficulties in accessing higher education include travel costs and cultural concerns, especially when it comes to young women. Some mothers have mentioned that schooling beyond SLC is the decision of their daughter’s future husband.
However, for the most part, it seems that there is a trend towards completing education at least until SLC. This is in deep contrast to the number of sangha women who are non-literate, having never attended school. Most of their husbands and parents are also predominantly non-literate as well. The generation of children that ranges anywhere between 5 and 22 seem to be more likely to attend and continue with school at least until they are done with their high school diploma, which is a shift from their parent’s generation. Many women have explained that being in the sangha has enlightened them to the benefits of education, namely, economic benefits by way of better jobs. (This includes secure government jobs.) As a result, it seems that several children are also attending technical degree programs that range from teaching certificates to auto mechanics. Many of these children are young women, who are trying to secure good government positions in teaching and on the KSRTC. Several of their children seem to be working in a range of jobs in the larger metropolis of Karnatka like Bangalore.
Overall health does not seem to be a major concern, with only the bout of bird flu impacting family members and communities throughout the survey areas. Otherwise, there were relatively few reports of individuals going to the hospital for physical ailments or sicknesses. However, we did find that several women mentioned that alcoholism is a problem in their communities, and even amongst their own husbands. Aside from legal restrictions there seems to be no medical attention addressing these issues.
Interview Process
The interview process itself has been fairly straightforward. We drive to a location, meet with an RC manager or designated RC (or federation) representative, who then locate the women at a previously designated location. For the most part we have been able to meet sangha members in the home of one woman. Otherwise we meet sangha members at a central location like the local nursery school (anganwadi) building or at the community center. The three women usually arrive together, and observe one another’s interviews. While we tried to emphasize the importance of individual interviews, it is very difficult to find these women completely alone, as even in their homes, there are in-laws, children and grandchildren milling in and out to observe the interviews. Often, the women will help the respondent when she doesn’t know the answer to a question, or hesitates about what to say in response to the translator’s question. Moreover, random villagers, especially children and young men will come to observe anything that transpires during our interview sessions. While at first, it was difficult for our translator to focus on just the interview, after some prompting, he would get the women to focus on the questions and also explain to others that they would have a chance to participate in later parts.
The latter groups that we visited, we only dealt with the three sangha members, and an occasional relative or passerby. However, they did feel more comfortable when their other sangha members were present, during the interview.
I conducted some mini-focus groups by utilizing the times we had when several sangha members would be present for interviews. During these times, we allowed all people to respond to questions in sections 9-11 (community development, drop outs, new members) and the general sangha information. This allowed us to get a cross-section of data from several different members. We found early on that despite asking individual members the same questions, they were giving the same reasons for new members and drop outs. So after a few days, I decided to allow the entire group of women to respond to this section of questions. This also helped in jostling their memories, as each person recalled only one or two pieces of information related to these topics. Most of the women were very clear on details like why people dropped out and how people joined. However, community development was a more difficult section to answer, because they often did not recall what they had done as a sangha and in some cases did not realize that they had participated in community development because they had just simply taken direction from the RC supporter’s suggestions.
We were able to interview three GP members, who were also part of our sangha members, and we can use these three women for mini-case studies. One GP woman in particular was extremely open to answering questions as well as her husband, so we should have some colorful highlights in this section.
Finally, interviewing the representatives did not prove to show that they had any extra or additional information. In many cases, they looked to other, more vocal members for guidance about what had transpired during the years of the group.
Over the last month we have talked with almost 100 women, who are long-time participants in Myrada self-help groups or sanghas. With the exception of two groups, all of the sanghas are five years or older. The majority of the women that we have spoken with are involved in agriculture, daily labor and small businesses like tailoring and petty shops. Most of the husbands and other family members are also involved in similar trades. We have seen from our initial survey responses the sangha women usually take loans to bolster an existing family business or more often, purchase items like seeds and fertilizers for agricultural purposes.
The number of people who own their own homes and own land is rather significant. However, most landowners have less than ten acres of land, with very few families having landholdings that exceed this amount. Several families own their own home or live with (and in some cases care for) parents and in-laws. The sangha members have often told us that they will eventually inherit these family homes when their parents or in-laws pass away. Often, this property is inherited from the husband’s parents.
We found that people save by purchasing gold and livestock when they had larger sums of money. Often sangha women mentioned that they pooled resources to take a loan out or use the interest on savings to purchase gold or sheep for each woman in the group. Overall however, the savings in sangha is minimal, with women saving only Rs. 10 – 20 weekly, which amounts to about Rs. 40 – 80 in a month. Those women who can afford to save more, usually do so in a post office or a bank. Some women even told us that the way they save money was to lend to others, which is often financed by a loan from the sangha, or other income. While there is the existence (moreso in rural areas) of chit funds, PIGMYs and ROSCAs, they seem to be more common amongst men and people who are not sangha members.
In terms of loan usage, as described above, most people use loans for business and agricultural purposes. We also saw that several parents who sent children for higher education took loans for things like nursing school and technical training. What we did see however, was that there were several cases, where sangha members or their family members have loans from both the sangha and other sources, mainly money lenders and family/friends. Banks seem to offer the best interest rates (Rs. 1/100 and in some cases 80 paise / 100) but more often than not, people would have taken from moneylenders. Most people mentioned that they took from other sources for weddings, sudden illnesses and agricultural purposes. Often, it was because they had an existing sangha loan and still needed more credit for the aforementioned reasons or others.
Most women who have young or adolescent children seem to be educating them till at least SLC (10th grade), which is the equivalent of getting a high school diploma. Education beyond SLC requires additional funding even for government colleges. Students need to pass and write government or private exams to get into pre-university courses. Often, we have heard that children have gotten to SLC and decided not to continue their education because they failed the college exams. Other difficulties in accessing higher education include travel costs and cultural concerns, especially when it comes to young women. Some mothers have mentioned that schooling beyond SLC is the decision of their daughter’s future husband.
However, for the most part, it seems that there is a trend towards completing education at least until SLC. This is in deep contrast to the number of sangha women who are non-literate, having never attended school. Most of their husbands and parents are also predominantly non-literate as well. The generation of children that ranges anywhere between 5 and 22 seem to be more likely to attend and continue with school at least until they are done with their high school diploma, which is a shift from their parent’s generation. Many women have explained that being in the sangha has enlightened them to the benefits of education, namely, economic benefits by way of better jobs. (This includes secure government jobs.) As a result, it seems that several children are also attending technical degree programs that range from teaching certificates to auto mechanics. Many of these children are young women, who are trying to secure good government positions in teaching and on the KSRTC. Several of their children seem to be working in a range of jobs in the larger metropolis of Karnatka like Bangalore.
Overall health does not seem to be a major concern, with only the bout of bird flu impacting family members and communities throughout the survey areas. Otherwise, there were relatively few reports of individuals going to the hospital for physical ailments or sicknesses. However, we did find that several women mentioned that alcoholism is a problem in their communities, and even amongst their own husbands. Aside from legal restrictions there seems to be no medical attention addressing these issues.
Interview Process
The interview process itself has been fairly straightforward. We drive to a location, meet with an RC manager or designated RC (or federation) representative, who then locate the women at a previously designated location. For the most part we have been able to meet sangha members in the home of one woman. Otherwise we meet sangha members at a central location like the local nursery school (anganwadi) building or at the community center. The three women usually arrive together, and observe one another’s interviews. While we tried to emphasize the importance of individual interviews, it is very difficult to find these women completely alone, as even in their homes, there are in-laws, children and grandchildren milling in and out to observe the interviews. Often, the women will help the respondent when she doesn’t know the answer to a question, or hesitates about what to say in response to the translator’s question. Moreover, random villagers, especially children and young men will come to observe anything that transpires during our interview sessions. While at first, it was difficult for our translator to focus on just the interview, after some prompting, he would get the women to focus on the questions and also explain to others that they would have a chance to participate in later parts.
The latter groups that we visited, we only dealt with the three sangha members, and an occasional relative or passerby. However, they did feel more comfortable when their other sangha members were present, during the interview.
I conducted some mini-focus groups by utilizing the times we had when several sangha members would be present for interviews. During these times, we allowed all people to respond to questions in sections 9-11 (community development, drop outs, new members) and the general sangha information. This allowed us to get a cross-section of data from several different members. We found early on that despite asking individual members the same questions, they were giving the same reasons for new members and drop outs. So after a few days, I decided to allow the entire group of women to respond to this section of questions. This also helped in jostling their memories, as each person recalled only one or two pieces of information related to these topics. Most of the women were very clear on details like why people dropped out and how people joined. However, community development was a more difficult section to answer, because they often did not recall what they had done as a sangha and in some cases did not realize that they had participated in community development because they had just simply taken direction from the RC supporter’s suggestions.
We were able to interview three GP members, who were also part of our sangha members, and we can use these three women for mini-case studies. One GP woman in particular was extremely open to answering questions as well as her husband, so we should have some colorful highlights in this section.
Finally, interviewing the representatives did not prove to show that they had any extra or additional information. In many cases, they looked to other, more vocal members for guidance about what had transpired during the years of the group.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
veena, the american
So as I mentioned in an earlier post...some people think that I am an American. Not a South Asian American, but a White American. Yes, I know for my friends who are reading this, they are thinking "umm Veen... are you sure?" Yeah, I'm sure, I have polled several people (even the training center staff) and they all assumed I was. In addition, most of the sangha women, will ask Vijay (my translator) or Rafi (our driver) in Kannada, "where is this woman from?" They will also make remarks like "Oh my such a long distance she has traveled to see us!" when they find out that I am from "Ummm AY ree ca!"
This was a helpful realization... After finding this out, I asked the translator to curtail my introduction by only mentioning that i was a PG (post graduate) student, studying savings and loan usage amongst sangha women in accordance with Myrada. If after the interviews are done, they ask about where I am from, Rafi or Vijay will explan that at one time my grandparent's/parents etc. were from Kerala but they eventually moved and have resettled in the US for the last thirty years.
On one such occasion, I had interviewed three sangha women, in a more remote part of Holalkere district. The first woman, was rather reserved, she had a few daughters that she was waiting to marry. (One had been recently married.) A second woman was very talkative and rambled on and on about her children, her exhaustion from working as a daily laborer and other things. Towards the end of each survey, there is a section that focuses on trainings that the women have taken or would be interested to take. When we asked this woman whether she would want to take training, she agreed that she would like to. However, she mentioned that it was not possible because her husband was a drunk and was known to come find her and harass her no matter where she was. He was known for causing a commotion, and therefore she couldn't leave the home in the evenings.
The last woman, whose home we were in, had two children, an older girl, who had completed her BS in engineering and a son, who was doing the same. Her husband was a professor and she stayed at home and maintained their home and watched over there 8 or so acres of farmland. Later on, she explained how her daughter had the opportunity to work in Singapore for a year, but because the grandmother (an old lady who laid on the bed in the far corner of the room) was against it, the daughter could not go. I asked her to explain why and she mentioned that "hajji" (grandma) was afraid that the daughter would meet someone and run off and get married etc. or just lose her way. (I had to suppress laughter, because these are things I had heard growing up, but have not encountered in several years, not even from my own grandmother in her later stages of life.)
Then, they started to ask questions about me, "what do her parents do?" "how many siblings do you have?" Rafi and Vijay responded, business man, two, and older one is married. Hajji then asks "did her sister marry an Indian?" At this moment, I felt frustration because I knew what was coming. "No," I responded, "he is an American." Immediately everyone grew very quiet and grave, like I had just told them that someone died. Even the driver and translator looked akward, some people looked down, or stared out. It then hit me, the women actually felt bad for me; when I realized, I wanted to laugh or scream, but I just said "Oh! I musn't forget to take your photo!" as I rushed everyone outside for my customary ending picture.
So I felt like two things were going on, had they (Rafi/Vijay) never mentioned that I had grandparents from India, these four women would have been perfectly happy and excited to entertain the "American" for an hour or two. However, Veena, the American, the South Asian American, had strayed from the Indian path. At that moment I felt bad for them, because they only know two states of living "the known" and "the unknown" and things will certainly not in Hajji's lifetime. It was also interesting to be assaulted by someone else's values or opinions and feel their looks of disapproval and in Hajji's case, disgust.
The disgust bothered me. It got me thinking for two or three days and at the end, I still could not wrap my head around how those women had reacted to something "different." I don't even think of relationships between people as "inter-racial." I don't see it like that, I don't know how. I mean I joke occasionally about "brownness" "whiteness" and so on.... but it doesn't really mean anything to me. What I have learned is that relationships are a lot more about building friendships...supporting one another's interests...celebrating your differences.
religion and caste are polarizing forces. Even though people in these rural areas get along with one another, have mixed sanghas, with women of both the Muslim and Hindu faiths, an inter-marriage between religions or castes is still seen as absolute blasphemy. They live in relative peace but limit themselves to the confines of the known.
Women continue to marry young, to bear children young, to stay at home and let the men go to work unless the family needs the supplementary income. Most young women do not work, as they are almost in the endless marriage waiting room...
Anyway, what I am trying to say is that Veena...the American is quickly realizing that while she grew up in a very traditional Indian home, waking up to Suprabatham early on Saturday mornings and smelling incense before my eyes ever saw sunlight, this same woman is also very bold, willing to challenge the structures.
Wow what a bizarre conversation I just had! ... Veena the American sat and defended American culture and everything else for the last hour to a guy who just didn't like "westernization." He was so staunch about the importance of family in Indian culture and the higher marriage rates.. And I kept saying "numbers" do not represent the success/failure of a marriage. Just because people stay in a marriage doesn't mean its good...Moreover, there are so many unreported cases of domestic violence and divorce is a no-no in this culture. As a woman, you are looked down upon and ostracized in society. (At least in more rural areas.) He kept saying but if you look at marriages! You know Americans... and i said "umm I think you are generalizing that all Americans are blonde with bikinis!" or something like that.... He really seemed affronted by "western culture" or what he called was the"breach of Indian culture." He says that he comes home every weekend even though he works in Bangalore, because its his duty and he could not wrap his head around the idea of "own" experiences or individual experiences. I was like, my parents are happy when I go skiing or read a nwe book, you are supposed to celebrate those things. He was also shocked that I only visited my parents once or twice in a month... I kept thinking "ummmmmm do you even know how often other people visit thier parents?" Also, I felt so frustrated because he did not realize that "American" doesn't mean just one race, we are a country of a diverse set of races, religions, cultures... just like India..but... its weird bc despite all of those differences, they share this social pressure blanket.. the "dos and donts" of culture. Whereas we have so many "Dos and donts." It is odd because I am realizing how strongly I hold to some "American" values, that I think are "American" and at the same time, others' American values are probably directly opposite, it was hard to articulate this to this man.
Okay I am going to leave the computer lab, sorry about the rushed nature of this blog post.. I have to really absorb this conversation, before properly addressing it..It just happened to be that the guy from the computer lab decided to engage me in this conversation.... Also, this totally explains his look of disapproval for me initially!
More later.... (Ps.... I couldn't sleep for the last two days due to unexplicable abdominal pains and woke up and found that the veg noodles i ate last night did not sit well with me. (i will leave it at that.) I can't seem to eat anything..managed to get some coke and cadbury's down just a few moments ago.)
I still don't like this city or my dirty hotel.... at least there was cable! (PS I watched big momma's house II on television, and it was really funny... im not sure if it was bc i hadn't eaten all day or what.)
Also... being in places like this...and just realizing how long I have until I can go home..or see a familiar face is making me homesick.... yes, i admitted it! :)
This was a helpful realization... After finding this out, I asked the translator to curtail my introduction by only mentioning that i was a PG (post graduate) student, studying savings and loan usage amongst sangha women in accordance with Myrada. If after the interviews are done, they ask about where I am from, Rafi or Vijay will explan that at one time my grandparent's/parents etc. were from Kerala but they eventually moved and have resettled in the US for the last thirty years.
On one such occasion, I had interviewed three sangha women, in a more remote part of Holalkere district. The first woman, was rather reserved, she had a few daughters that she was waiting to marry. (One had been recently married.) A second woman was very talkative and rambled on and on about her children, her exhaustion from working as a daily laborer and other things. Towards the end of each survey, there is a section that focuses on trainings that the women have taken or would be interested to take. When we asked this woman whether she would want to take training, she agreed that she would like to. However, she mentioned that it was not possible because her husband was a drunk and was known to come find her and harass her no matter where she was. He was known for causing a commotion, and therefore she couldn't leave the home in the evenings.
The last woman, whose home we were in, had two children, an older girl, who had completed her BS in engineering and a son, who was doing the same. Her husband was a professor and she stayed at home and maintained their home and watched over there 8 or so acres of farmland. Later on, she explained how her daughter had the opportunity to work in Singapore for a year, but because the grandmother (an old lady who laid on the bed in the far corner of the room) was against it, the daughter could not go. I asked her to explain why and she mentioned that "hajji" (grandma) was afraid that the daughter would meet someone and run off and get married etc. or just lose her way. (I had to suppress laughter, because these are things I had heard growing up, but have not encountered in several years, not even from my own grandmother in her later stages of life.)
Then, they started to ask questions about me, "what do her parents do?" "how many siblings do you have?" Rafi and Vijay responded, business man, two, and older one is married. Hajji then asks "did her sister marry an Indian?" At this moment, I felt frustration because I knew what was coming. "No," I responded, "he is an American." Immediately everyone grew very quiet and grave, like I had just told them that someone died. Even the driver and translator looked akward, some people looked down, or stared out. It then hit me, the women actually felt bad for me; when I realized, I wanted to laugh or scream, but I just said "Oh! I musn't forget to take your photo!" as I rushed everyone outside for my customary ending picture.
So I felt like two things were going on, had they (Rafi/Vijay) never mentioned that I had grandparents from India, these four women would have been perfectly happy and excited to entertain the "American" for an hour or two. However, Veena, the American, the South Asian American, had strayed from the Indian path. At that moment I felt bad for them, because they only know two states of living "the known" and "the unknown" and things will certainly not in Hajji's lifetime. It was also interesting to be assaulted by someone else's values or opinions and feel their looks of disapproval and in Hajji's case, disgust.
The disgust bothered me. It got me thinking for two or three days and at the end, I still could not wrap my head around how those women had reacted to something "different." I don't even think of relationships between people as "inter-racial." I don't see it like that, I don't know how. I mean I joke occasionally about "brownness" "whiteness" and so on.... but it doesn't really mean anything to me. What I have learned is that relationships are a lot more about building friendships...supporting one another's interests...celebrating your differences.
religion and caste are polarizing forces. Even though people in these rural areas get along with one another, have mixed sanghas, with women of both the Muslim and Hindu faiths, an inter-marriage between religions or castes is still seen as absolute blasphemy. They live in relative peace but limit themselves to the confines of the known.
Women continue to marry young, to bear children young, to stay at home and let the men go to work unless the family needs the supplementary income. Most young women do not work, as they are almost in the endless marriage waiting room...
Anyway, what I am trying to say is that Veena...the American is quickly realizing that while she grew up in a very traditional Indian home, waking up to Suprabatham early on Saturday mornings and smelling incense before my eyes ever saw sunlight, this same woman is also very bold, willing to challenge the structures.
Wow what a bizarre conversation I just had! ... Veena the American sat and defended American culture and everything else for the last hour to a guy who just didn't like "westernization." He was so staunch about the importance of family in Indian culture and the higher marriage rates.. And I kept saying "numbers" do not represent the success/failure of a marriage. Just because people stay in a marriage doesn't mean its good...Moreover, there are so many unreported cases of domestic violence and divorce is a no-no in this culture. As a woman, you are looked down upon and ostracized in society. (At least in more rural areas.) He kept saying but if you look at marriages! You know Americans... and i said "umm I think you are generalizing that all Americans are blonde with bikinis!" or something like that.... He really seemed affronted by "western culture" or what he called was the"breach of Indian culture." He says that he comes home every weekend even though he works in Bangalore, because its his duty and he could not wrap his head around the idea of "own" experiences or individual experiences. I was like, my parents are happy when I go skiing or read a nwe book, you are supposed to celebrate those things. He was also shocked that I only visited my parents once or twice in a month... I kept thinking "ummmmmm do you even know how often other people visit thier parents?" Also, I felt so frustrated because he did not realize that "American" doesn't mean just one race, we are a country of a diverse set of races, religions, cultures... just like India..but... its weird bc despite all of those differences, they share this social pressure blanket.. the "dos and donts" of culture. Whereas we have so many "Dos and donts." It is odd because I am realizing how strongly I hold to some "American" values, that I think are "American" and at the same time, others' American values are probably directly opposite, it was hard to articulate this to this man.
Okay I am going to leave the computer lab, sorry about the rushed nature of this blog post.. I have to really absorb this conversation, before properly addressing it..It just happened to be that the guy from the computer lab decided to engage me in this conversation.... Also, this totally explains his look of disapproval for me initially!
More later.... (Ps.... I couldn't sleep for the last two days due to unexplicable abdominal pains and woke up and found that the veg noodles i ate last night did not sit well with me. (i will leave it at that.) I can't seem to eat anything..managed to get some coke and cadbury's down just a few moments ago.)
I still don't like this city or my dirty hotel.... at least there was cable! (PS I watched big momma's house II on television, and it was really funny... im not sure if it was bc i hadn't eaten all day or what.)
Also... being in places like this...and just realizing how long I have until I can go home..or see a familiar face is making me homesick.... yes, i admitted it! :)
goodbye holalkere
Today was my final visit to a sangha in Holalkere. While I initially dreaded the thought of spending a few weeks at what I like to call "Indian Camp Shahola." (We used to spend Memorial Day Weekends in the Poconos as children at this camp with all these other Indian families from when I was young until well into my adolescence.) I realize that I have grown quickly accustomed to my "country life"; I have found some friends and most of all found comfort in the great amount of solitude that I have in the evenings and on weekends. I think that while I spend a lot of time alone in New York, this experience has taught me to spend time alone in a useful way. Instead of of just simmering in a pit of self-loathing by looking at photographs on my laptop (shout out for Louie!) I have read through two good novels, gotten back into practicing Spanish, written a bunch and have worked on my i-movie skills. I also, while it is rather difficult since I don't speak any of the local languages, have tried to spend time with the staff at the training center and people who work at the RC who also live here. In particular, one RC manager's son, Arshid, is one of the most adorable kids I have ever seen. (Krish - remember when we sat at Bridgewater ages ago and rated baby-cuteness? He is a 10 :p. ) I try to pop in and see him and his mom. She usually cuts a mango and makes me tea, and is really sweet, even though we have about 30 words in common.
I should go through my routine of the last few weeks, just to demonstrate the simplicity but relative peace of the last few weeks. The first week and a half I was here, I would get up at around 7 or 7:30, turn on my water heater and do regular-morning things: say hello to spiders, count lizards, put on contacts, brush my teeth and so on. At around 8:30, Toufiq or Mudhasir, two really nice guys ( brothers) who work here, would knock on my door to call me for breakfast. Each morning, they were setting my breakfast up in the training director's room: breakfast and tea, and solitude. I would then meet up with my translator, Vijay, and Rafi, the driver (who has also been really great about answering all of my questions about agriculture/religion/social practices) and we would drive and do 9 or so interviews and come back in the evening. Afterwards, my back would be killing me, from having sat on the floor, indian style for 8 hours, so I would grab my book, turn on the fan and my anti-mosquito repellent and lay on my bed inside my mosquito net, and read for two hours. At around 8:30, Toufiq would knock on my door for dinner back in the training director's room. I would sit there and eat, while Toufiq kept me company and we would try and tell and understand one another's stories while I slowly ate my dinner.
This week, since the training director was back, I opted to have my meals back at the mess hall. The nice part is that there are more people to chat with including the translator and this other guy, Nihal, who is a recent MA and is pretty conversational. We would eat and chat and this stray dog that seems to love me, would come around and try to pilfer food from our plates.
I have to say it is amazing how actions and facial expressions can really help in communicating with people. I recognize that while only a minimal amount of information is going back and forth between me and anyone else here, at least some messages are being passed. The staff, Sujata, Chittappa, Appu do not speak any English at all. They are all really friendly, helpful and kind.
I will also miss being in such a green place, its quiet, aside from the fat beetles that think my bathroom door is a moshpit and most importantly, its safe.
While I expressed frustration in a regular routine and having to be on a schedule, I have to say that I will really miss being at the center because I really did feel so much more at home than I do now at my dirty hotel in Chitradurga. (Traveler's Note: the only big "hotel" in Chitradurga the closest "city" in this area is a place called Aishwarya Fort... don't be fooled by the largess, its still probably a 1.5 to 2-star establishment....when I got to my room today, I noticed that in the bathroom there was a pair of dirty underwear hanging up.) I am going to ask them to move me to a clean room. Also, it seems that I should not trust any of the staff, especially all of the men who work there, so that is just great... Oh Holalkere how I will miss you.
I should go through my routine of the last few weeks, just to demonstrate the simplicity but relative peace of the last few weeks. The first week and a half I was here, I would get up at around 7 or 7:30, turn on my water heater and do regular-morning things: say hello to spiders, count lizards, put on contacts, brush my teeth and so on. At around 8:30, Toufiq or Mudhasir, two really nice guys ( brothers) who work here, would knock on my door to call me for breakfast. Each morning, they were setting my breakfast up in the training director's room: breakfast and tea, and solitude. I would then meet up with my translator, Vijay, and Rafi, the driver (who has also been really great about answering all of my questions about agriculture/religion/social practices) and we would drive and do 9 or so interviews and come back in the evening. Afterwards, my back would be killing me, from having sat on the floor, indian style for 8 hours, so I would grab my book, turn on the fan and my anti-mosquito repellent and lay on my bed inside my mosquito net, and read for two hours. At around 8:30, Toufiq would knock on my door for dinner back in the training director's room. I would sit there and eat, while Toufiq kept me company and we would try and tell and understand one another's stories while I slowly ate my dinner.
This week, since the training director was back, I opted to have my meals back at the mess hall. The nice part is that there are more people to chat with including the translator and this other guy, Nihal, who is a recent MA and is pretty conversational. We would eat and chat and this stray dog that seems to love me, would come around and try to pilfer food from our plates.
I have to say it is amazing how actions and facial expressions can really help in communicating with people. I recognize that while only a minimal amount of information is going back and forth between me and anyone else here, at least some messages are being passed. The staff, Sujata, Chittappa, Appu do not speak any English at all. They are all really friendly, helpful and kind.
I will also miss being in such a green place, its quiet, aside from the fat beetles that think my bathroom door is a moshpit and most importantly, its safe.
While I expressed frustration in a regular routine and having to be on a schedule, I have to say that I will really miss being at the center because I really did feel so much more at home than I do now at my dirty hotel in Chitradurga. (Traveler's Note: the only big "hotel" in Chitradurga the closest "city" in this area is a place called Aishwarya Fort... don't be fooled by the largess, its still probably a 1.5 to 2-star establishment....when I got to my room today, I noticed that in the bathroom there was a pair of dirty underwear hanging up.) I am going to ask them to move me to a clean room. Also, it seems that I should not trust any of the staff, especially all of the men who work there, so that is just great... Oh Holalkere how I will miss you.
Monday, July 9, 2007
perpetually pre-pubescent
I took a bus into Chitradurga today after Toufiq dropped me off at the Holalkere bus station. I hopped on and noticed that I was immediately the topic of conversation. I sat in the last row with my big laptop bag and carefully arranged my laptop bag so that it acted as a barrier between me and any other passengers mostly to avoid any close contact with any of the strange men.
This is the second or third time I have taken this bus either back or forth and each time the bus drivers and anyone else in the back of the bus talk either mumble things, or more often than not, shout in loud raucous voices, things in Kannada that are peppered with "America!" and "Myrada!" I think that most people around this area recognize that any foreigners in the area must be associated with Myrada, since Holalkere is not exactly a tourist location. It really doesn't bother me (anymore) that the men, and occasionally women stare or talk about me. However, their (men) bizarre pre-pubescent need to sit next to me or stand near me, and observe me, almost like I am a caged animal, is what really frustrates me. I just sit there, covered by my shawl, that covers my baggy cotton kurtha and work to ensure I don't move too much and have enough space between me and the next passenger.
After I had jumped on, a small girl who was maybe 11 or 12 got on the bus, and sat down. I immediately slid next to her and put my bag to the right. The two of us shared five minutes of shy smiles, as the bus jostled us up and down. Being on the bus to Chitradurga is like being on an old wooden roller coaster at great adventure. (Rolling Thunder comes to mind.) At any moment, you could be lifted from your seat and find yourself and your belongings airborne. A second later, you land with a thud, back in your seat, and prepare for the next insane turn or set of pot holes, as the bus rambles down the only main road.
I am always suspicious that the drivers are high on something, because of the way they drive. However, these experiences remind me of the bus rides from my father's stories, with people literally hanging from the bus, as it drove 60km an hour, winding down narrow roads. The only difference being that you can replace the narrow city streets of Calcutta with the narrow country roads. Instead of tall buildings and shanty towns, imagine farms of arekka nut, maize, sunflowers and other local crops, stretching for kilometers on either side. The passing country side is peppered with grazing buffaloes, goats and sheep and their herders in tow. Every few kilometers, there will be two bullocks engaged in plowing a field or traveling down the road with a farmer. The bus will let out this song-like beep that will inform people of the stops and will also obnoxiously belt its horn "BHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP" throughout the journey to warn anyone on the road of its presence.
We rambled on, and the little girl got off after a few kilometers. I continued to read the book I had brought with me; The Inheritance of Loss. One of the ticket takers, decided that out of all the available seats, the one right next to me was the one for him. He sat and watched me for almost twenty-five minutes, as I read my book. I could feel his eyes on me, but I wasn't sure exactly what he was looking at, because all I was doing was reading. He kept peering over, as if I was going to change color any minute. To make things worse, or perhaps just to emphasize the mentality of these men, there was yet another atrocious Kannada film playing on two televisions posted up-front, where the leading man dragged the leading lady all over, (because he was just so much stronger), while he screamed at her and at one point dunked her face in a mud puddle. I observed the passengers on the bus, as everyone; men, women and children sat captivated by the film. I am convinced, having watched enough Sun TV (Tamil TV) that most of the South Indian film and mini-series are extremely trashy and unprogressive. They always depict helpless women and fear-inducing men, who are so strong they can drag their woman with one hand while they fight people with the other, all while the helpless women just stands there and screams. Then, there is the other extreme, which are these extremely sexually charged dance scenes, where men and women dance in ways that are reminiscent of Britney Spear's "Slave 4 You."
Which leads me to my next point.... I think that the majority of men here, especially in rural areas are perpetually pre-pubescent. The way in which men look at women, is really just insulting and is very reminiscent of the seventh grade. The environment is chock full of repressed sexual tension just waiting to burst out of every man in the street. (No wonder parents don't want to send their female children out!) However, this does not only apply to young men, it applies to all men, even older married men. It occurs most consistently amongst the crowd of people who don't seem to have actual employment, aside from standing in the street, drinking a coffee, chewing and spitting pan, shooting the breeze and eve-teasing. (A phrase I picked up from Shashank that means making fun of women/heckling women etc.)
I should stop here for a second and mention a few things: 1. I am in no way referring to all of India, because this country, as I am quickly learning, is so different from region to region, urban to rural etc. 2. I say all of these things with no reference to my own vanity, rather, I think it is the fact that I symbolize "different" in a comparatively homogenous world. 3. I found out a few days ago, that some people actually think that I am a white woman. I am not sure if it is the hair cut or the fact that I am slightly lighter-skinned than most people in this region, but according to some folks, they think that I am,which would explain the way people greet me and peer at me. It is bizarre, because until I came out to this area, it was only people of non-Indian descent that got this kind of attention. (I just got the "you are a different/modern kind of Indian" attention.) 4. I feel more affronted by "city men" or "town men" than I ever do by farmers, who actually are really friendly, especially the 45+ crowd.
I digress.
I disembarked in Chitradurga, hopped in auto, that promptly dropped me off at the internet cafe, where I spent three happy hours with a broadband connection, finalizing loan applications, checking on bank statements, responding to e-mails and confirming the few facebook requests that had collected. After those three joyous hours I tried to find a place where I could recharge my phone. I stopped at three shops, before I could find someone who could understand English. The guy I found seemed pretty legit, he even had a chart of TamilNadu top-up rates and had been helping his young son with homework when I had walked into his hardware shop. He added some credit to my phone, then I asked for another 501 rupees top-up. In the meantime, I had taken out my wallet, to see if I had enough cash to purchase all of the credit, when he suddenly started demanding that I pay him. I said "Did you put in the recharge yet?" He responded back impatiently in a thick accent "Justtu give me the munney madummm!" I responded "No! charge my phone first" and put the money back into my bag and stared at him until he punched the information into the phone and extended his chubby fist at me, showing me the amount and phone number. After I received my echarge sms, I shoved the money in his hand, grabbed the change and left in a huff.
I walked down the wide main street and observed as men, pointed and laughed and giggled. Men of all ages and creeds at the only "western" woman for miles. (A side note: Those of you who are close to me know that I can be overly paranoid, but as I mentioned before, I really think this has nothing to do with "me" per say, it has to do with what I symbolize in an otherwise significantly homogenous area.)
Well I finally made my way back onto the bus, where I had to stand up as the bus attendants excitedly talked about the "American" on the bus. One of the ticket takers yelled for two men sitting in a three-seat to move in, and they obliged. I plopped down, and made sure I left at least an inch between me and the gentleman next to me, dressed in crisp white dhoti, shirt and headwrap. I pulled out my book and read another few chapters, as another film blared and the ticket takers told conspiracy theories about why I was on their bus.
Eventually we pulled into Holalkere and I jumped off the train and away from the creepy ticket takers into the pouring rain. I walked across the soaked muddy ground and hovered under the large bus stand that marked the town centre. Hundreds of mens huddled in small groups talked and spat pan (sort of like Indian chewing tobacco - I think), while others smoked cigarettes, as we waited for the rain to stop. I slowly traversed around large puddles filled with shit, swarming flies and remnants of guterral spit and waded through people and a few livestock to find a small clean patch to wait out the rain. It poured for a few more minutes, and then let up. I took the opportunity to pop down to the Srinivas Iyengar Bakery, and get a "sandwich" (a piece of white bread, topped with an onion and chile saute). I topped it off with two small pieces of pastry. Grand total: 5 rupees; the perks of rural life. I stopped by the ISD/STD booth and made a call to Alan. The shop owner and a few others had to listen as I talked rapidly and boisterously in English for around 8 minutes. Grand total: 111 rupees. The phone call cleaned me out of the last rupees I had. (India to Kenya is not cheap.) After stopping at the ATM, I headed towards the side of the bus stand to find an auto.
I walked from the opposite direction to which the autos were parked. I glanced up and saw this boy, light skinned, pencil thin mustache probably about 18, who had passed me by on my walk Saturday afternoon. He had tried yesterday to give me a ride, to which I had declined, since I was on a walk, but he had driven away sticking his head out of his auto for about 30 meters. He saw me, his eyes got big and he grew terribly excited, telling me in Kannada that he could take me. I am not sure why, but I agreed, after ensuring that the price was 15 rupees to the training center. Immediately, the two men, probably in their late thirties who had been sitting in the back of his auto were forcefully asked to leave by way of some desperate hand gestures. Then the boy bellowed to his friend, the same young boy of 14 or 15, who had been with him the day before. He ran over from the next auto and hopped in the driver's seat. Then, the boy turned out some kind of music, as he revved up his auto. Again, the music was so loud, we could have held a block party. As we turned out out of the bus station, they yelled to another little boy, who initially jumped into the front, but I yelled that it was dangerous, and he came and sat on the other side of the auto. The young driver, kept using his mirror to look at me, while the other two younger boys stole shorter, slyer glances. The one who sat next to me seemed a lot less "street" (I just finished reading "on beauty") than the two up front.
The entire time, I laughed to myself, as I realized how much older I really was than these very young boys who were going through a critical stage in their lives: puberty. However, I also wanted to yell at them, and say "don't like at women like that! treat them with respect!" and many other cliched mom-like things. It was so odd, to sit there and observe how these boys act around women, especially different women. It explains the behaviors of their older brothers, fathers, uncles and grandfathers. However, I still cannot understand why men in these parts have not understood how to properly interact with women; they are more comfortable holding another man's hand, than they are standing next to a woman, let alone talk to her like she is a normal human being.
Anyway, we finally got Myrada and I gestured for him to stop the auto. I hopped out, gave the young driver two ten rupee notes and asked him if he had change. He looked at me confused. I repeated myself a few times, "changeeeee!" These two women who had walked by got involved, by explaining to me, in Kannada, that the ride was 25, and I told them that the boy told me 15. By this time, he had gotten out of the car, and came around to the other side, as to act as an intimidating force. I looked at his lying face, told him sorry, and walked through the Myrada gates, as he called after me "Madame!" I left him standing there with two ten rupee notes, still five too many. I think that on top of the western woman, there was also "rich" woman, somewhere swirling through his woman-crazed mind.
I know that at this point, some of my male Indian friends (if they are reading) are standing in staunch protest of such a characterization of men in this society, but I really do think there is a lot of repressed sexual tension that is really never released due to the insistence on tradition. Men seem to be mesmerized by images of women in tight, minimal outfits, singing and dancing in a film. However, many of these same men, believe a woman and his daughter's should behave and dress in a certain way, and any dalliance with Western culture, is immoral. I think there is a tension in this society, part of India is moving so fast, towards this very Western ideal of modernity, tight jeans, short skirts and opulence of all kinds. At the same time, there are so many whose feet are rooted to the traditional ground. They cannot reconcile that there needs to be some balance between the crazy notions of Western life and the traditions and culture that make up India.
In the mean time, some men will continue to be perpetually prepubescent ....
(Traveler note: I should mention that while recharging your phone is a real convenience, if you are out of state, the Indian phone system really fails you, because they charge exorbitant rates. Find a friend, who can help you get a new sim card for the new state, otherwise, just try to use an isd phone booth for long distance. I hate all the top up/ validity garbage. I like the good ol' American phone system where I can talk anywhere in the US for a flat rate. :p)
This is the second or third time I have taken this bus either back or forth and each time the bus drivers and anyone else in the back of the bus talk either mumble things, or more often than not, shout in loud raucous voices, things in Kannada that are peppered with "America!" and "Myrada!" I think that most people around this area recognize that any foreigners in the area must be associated with Myrada, since Holalkere is not exactly a tourist location. It really doesn't bother me (anymore) that the men, and occasionally women stare or talk about me. However, their (men) bizarre pre-pubescent need to sit next to me or stand near me, and observe me, almost like I am a caged animal, is what really frustrates me. I just sit there, covered by my shawl, that covers my baggy cotton kurtha and work to ensure I don't move too much and have enough space between me and the next passenger.
After I had jumped on, a small girl who was maybe 11 or 12 got on the bus, and sat down. I immediately slid next to her and put my bag to the right. The two of us shared five minutes of shy smiles, as the bus jostled us up and down. Being on the bus to Chitradurga is like being on an old wooden roller coaster at great adventure. (Rolling Thunder comes to mind.) At any moment, you could be lifted from your seat and find yourself and your belongings airborne. A second later, you land with a thud, back in your seat, and prepare for the next insane turn or set of pot holes, as the bus rambles down the only main road.
I am always suspicious that the drivers are high on something, because of the way they drive. However, these experiences remind me of the bus rides from my father's stories, with people literally hanging from the bus, as it drove 60km an hour, winding down narrow roads. The only difference being that you can replace the narrow city streets of Calcutta with the narrow country roads. Instead of tall buildings and shanty towns, imagine farms of arekka nut, maize, sunflowers and other local crops, stretching for kilometers on either side. The passing country side is peppered with grazing buffaloes, goats and sheep and their herders in tow. Every few kilometers, there will be two bullocks engaged in plowing a field or traveling down the road with a farmer. The bus will let out this song-like beep that will inform people of the stops and will also obnoxiously belt its horn "BHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP" throughout the journey to warn anyone on the road of its presence.
We rambled on, and the little girl got off after a few kilometers. I continued to read the book I had brought with me; The Inheritance of Loss. One of the ticket takers, decided that out of all the available seats, the one right next to me was the one for him. He sat and watched me for almost twenty-five minutes, as I read my book. I could feel his eyes on me, but I wasn't sure exactly what he was looking at, because all I was doing was reading. He kept peering over, as if I was going to change color any minute. To make things worse, or perhaps just to emphasize the mentality of these men, there was yet another atrocious Kannada film playing on two televisions posted up-front, where the leading man dragged the leading lady all over, (because he was just so much stronger), while he screamed at her and at one point dunked her face in a mud puddle. I observed the passengers on the bus, as everyone; men, women and children sat captivated by the film. I am convinced, having watched enough Sun TV (Tamil TV) that most of the South Indian film and mini-series are extremely trashy and unprogressive. They always depict helpless women and fear-inducing men, who are so strong they can drag their woman with one hand while they fight people with the other, all while the helpless women just stands there and screams. Then, there is the other extreme, which are these extremely sexually charged dance scenes, where men and women dance in ways that are reminiscent of Britney Spear's "Slave 4 You."
Which leads me to my next point.... I think that the majority of men here, especially in rural areas are perpetually pre-pubescent. The way in which men look at women, is really just insulting and is very reminiscent of the seventh grade. The environment is chock full of repressed sexual tension just waiting to burst out of every man in the street. (No wonder parents don't want to send their female children out!) However, this does not only apply to young men, it applies to all men, even older married men. It occurs most consistently amongst the crowd of people who don't seem to have actual employment, aside from standing in the street, drinking a coffee, chewing and spitting pan, shooting the breeze and eve-teasing. (A phrase I picked up from Shashank that means making fun of women/heckling women etc.)
I should stop here for a second and mention a few things: 1. I am in no way referring to all of India, because this country, as I am quickly learning, is so different from region to region, urban to rural etc. 2. I say all of these things with no reference to my own vanity, rather, I think it is the fact that I symbolize "different" in a comparatively homogenous world. 3. I found out a few days ago, that some people actually think that I am a white woman. I am not sure if it is the hair cut or the fact that I am slightly lighter-skinned than most people in this region, but according to some folks, they think that I am,which would explain the way people greet me and peer at me. It is bizarre, because until I came out to this area, it was only people of non-Indian descent that got this kind of attention. (I just got the "you are a different/modern kind of Indian" attention.) 4. I feel more affronted by "city men" or "town men" than I ever do by farmers, who actually are really friendly, especially the 45+ crowd.
I digress.
I disembarked in Chitradurga, hopped in auto, that promptly dropped me off at the internet cafe, where I spent three happy hours with a broadband connection, finalizing loan applications, checking on bank statements, responding to e-mails and confirming the few facebook requests that had collected. After those three joyous hours I tried to find a place where I could recharge my phone. I stopped at three shops, before I could find someone who could understand English. The guy I found seemed pretty legit, he even had a chart of TamilNadu top-up rates and had been helping his young son with homework when I had walked into his hardware shop. He added some credit to my phone, then I asked for another 501 rupees top-up. In the meantime, I had taken out my wallet, to see if I had enough cash to purchase all of the credit, when he suddenly started demanding that I pay him. I said "Did you put in the recharge yet?" He responded back impatiently in a thick accent "Justtu give me the munney madummm!" I responded "No! charge my phone first" and put the money back into my bag and stared at him until he punched the information into the phone and extended his chubby fist at me, showing me the amount and phone number. After I received my echarge sms, I shoved the money in his hand, grabbed the change and left in a huff.
I walked down the wide main street and observed as men, pointed and laughed and giggled. Men of all ages and creeds at the only "western" woman for miles. (A side note: Those of you who are close to me know that I can be overly paranoid, but as I mentioned before, I really think this has nothing to do with "me" per say, it has to do with what I symbolize in an otherwise significantly homogenous area.)
Well I finally made my way back onto the bus, where I had to stand up as the bus attendants excitedly talked about the "American" on the bus. One of the ticket takers yelled for two men sitting in a three-seat to move in, and they obliged. I plopped down, and made sure I left at least an inch between me and the gentleman next to me, dressed in crisp white dhoti, shirt and headwrap. I pulled out my book and read another few chapters, as another film blared and the ticket takers told conspiracy theories about why I was on their bus.
Eventually we pulled into Holalkere and I jumped off the train and away from the creepy ticket takers into the pouring rain. I walked across the soaked muddy ground and hovered under the large bus stand that marked the town centre. Hundreds of mens huddled in small groups talked and spat pan (sort of like Indian chewing tobacco - I think), while others smoked cigarettes, as we waited for the rain to stop. I slowly traversed around large puddles filled with shit, swarming flies and remnants of guterral spit and waded through people and a few livestock to find a small clean patch to wait out the rain. It poured for a few more minutes, and then let up. I took the opportunity to pop down to the Srinivas Iyengar Bakery, and get a "sandwich" (a piece of white bread, topped with an onion and chile saute). I topped it off with two small pieces of pastry. Grand total: 5 rupees; the perks of rural life. I stopped by the ISD/STD booth and made a call to Alan. The shop owner and a few others had to listen as I talked rapidly and boisterously in English for around 8 minutes. Grand total: 111 rupees. The phone call cleaned me out of the last rupees I had. (India to Kenya is not cheap.) After stopping at the ATM, I headed towards the side of the bus stand to find an auto.
I walked from the opposite direction to which the autos were parked. I glanced up and saw this boy, light skinned, pencil thin mustache probably about 18, who had passed me by on my walk Saturday afternoon. He had tried yesterday to give me a ride, to which I had declined, since I was on a walk, but he had driven away sticking his head out of his auto for about 30 meters. He saw me, his eyes got big and he grew terribly excited, telling me in Kannada that he could take me. I am not sure why, but I agreed, after ensuring that the price was 15 rupees to the training center. Immediately, the two men, probably in their late thirties who had been sitting in the back of his auto were forcefully asked to leave by way of some desperate hand gestures. Then the boy bellowed to his friend, the same young boy of 14 or 15, who had been with him the day before. He ran over from the next auto and hopped in the driver's seat. Then, the boy turned out some kind of music, as he revved up his auto. Again, the music was so loud, we could have held a block party. As we turned out out of the bus station, they yelled to another little boy, who initially jumped into the front, but I yelled that it was dangerous, and he came and sat on the other side of the auto. The young driver, kept using his mirror to look at me, while the other two younger boys stole shorter, slyer glances. The one who sat next to me seemed a lot less "street" (I just finished reading "on beauty") than the two up front.
The entire time, I laughed to myself, as I realized how much older I really was than these very young boys who were going through a critical stage in their lives: puberty. However, I also wanted to yell at them, and say "don't like at women like that! treat them with respect!" and many other cliched mom-like things. It was so odd, to sit there and observe how these boys act around women, especially different women. It explains the behaviors of their older brothers, fathers, uncles and grandfathers. However, I still cannot understand why men in these parts have not understood how to properly interact with women; they are more comfortable holding another man's hand, than they are standing next to a woman, let alone talk to her like she is a normal human being.
Anyway, we finally got Myrada and I gestured for him to stop the auto. I hopped out, gave the young driver two ten rupee notes and asked him if he had change. He looked at me confused. I repeated myself a few times, "changeeeee!" These two women who had walked by got involved, by explaining to me, in Kannada, that the ride was 25, and I told them that the boy told me 15. By this time, he had gotten out of the car, and came around to the other side, as to act as an intimidating force. I looked at his lying face, told him sorry, and walked through the Myrada gates, as he called after me "Madame!" I left him standing there with two ten rupee notes, still five too many. I think that on top of the western woman, there was also "rich" woman, somewhere swirling through his woman-crazed mind.
I know that at this point, some of my male Indian friends (if they are reading) are standing in staunch protest of such a characterization of men in this society, but I really do think there is a lot of repressed sexual tension that is really never released due to the insistence on tradition. Men seem to be mesmerized by images of women in tight, minimal outfits, singing and dancing in a film. However, many of these same men, believe a woman and his daughter's should behave and dress in a certain way, and any dalliance with Western culture, is immoral. I think there is a tension in this society, part of India is moving so fast, towards this very Western ideal of modernity, tight jeans, short skirts and opulence of all kinds. At the same time, there are so many whose feet are rooted to the traditional ground. They cannot reconcile that there needs to be some balance between the crazy notions of Western life and the traditions and culture that make up India.
In the mean time, some men will continue to be perpetually prepubescent ....
(Traveler note: I should mention that while recharging your phone is a real convenience, if you are out of state, the Indian phone system really fails you, because they charge exorbitant rates. Find a friend, who can help you get a new sim card for the new state, otherwise, just try to use an isd phone booth for long distance. I hate all the top up/ validity garbage. I like the good ol' American phone system where I can talk anywhere in the US for a flat rate. :p)
Sunday, July 8, 2007
interviews take one
My first week of interviews is complete. We interviewed about thirty women, starting with 12 on the first day. The first few interviews were clumsy, confusing and long. It did not help that half of Myrada was sitting in the room, which made it seem more like interrogation than just a simple interview. Of course the training director who had berated me for being late a day earlier, showed up three hours late, only to interrupt and then proceed to take over the second interview. He treats the women so badly, it embarasses me to be in his company. However, these women are either not aware of it, or realize that they cannot do much to change things (I'm not sure which is worse).
He talks down to everyone, and is typical bougie Indian yelling from his desk for everything from dialing a number to a cup of tea. Moreover, when he sees me, he talks to me like I am a child. This lasted about 2 hours before I got really angry and came out guns a blazing the day after I was ill. I laid out my requests, was curt, direct and used such a strong voice that suddenly he was at least paying attention. I have to give him another dose of "American bitch-in yo face don't mess with me because i'm meaner than i look" tomorrow because instead of telling ME (the person in charge of the research) about who was accompanying us to villages, he found it easier to tell my translator, Vijay ( a man). Grrrrrr.
In any case, the first day ended with a really great interview. I got to interview, Janakamma, a really wonderful woman, about 35 years old. She lives with her four children, her husband and her aging parents. At first, I think her family was really skeptical of me (as most people are) but soon after we both warmed up to one another, and I had a really wonderful time. She is one of those women you can't forget because she inspires something in you. Her four children are really sweet, especially her 13 year old daughter, whose birthday it was. (I think I was way more excited than the little girl was!) We sat on the floor with the family in her living room (most other interviews happened at the Myrada RC buildings) and talked through the interview like it was a regular conversation. She had really detailed answers and was really willing to explain things to me. I even got to ask her mom some questions. She wants to send her children all for higher education. At present, she works in her own family shop and also acts as a bookkeeper for several other SHGs, since she unlike most of the women I have met, has attended school till SLC (10th grade) level. (Her mom, when I asked, mentioned that she wanted to send her daughter to school because she had not gotten the opportunity to complete because of marrying so early and having children etc.)
This interview was in stark contrast to the women I spoke with yesterday morning who basically contested the purpose of having a female child study beyond the seventh grade. The woman, about 35 years old, answered forcefully when I asked why girls shouldn't be sent to school. "There isn't any point! Besides its not safe to send them to school far away." I probed some more and she explained that girls "will go to thier husband's homes, its up to thier husbands to decide whether the women will leave the home. " This particular group of women were all of the Muslim community. From what Rafi has told me, a significant majority of Muslim families throughout this area do not allow young women to leave the home after a certain age. Married women are more likely to have a chance to leave their home to work, but single women, are pretty much banned beyond a certain age. (Also, a lot of women around this area wear the full hijab, I was surprised both at the size of the Muslim community and how traditional some of them are.)
I did meet two Muslim women on Friday, whose children had studied beyond 7th grade and actually mentioned that they would like to see thier grandchildren seek higher education. (These women were however, in the town and not in the rural villages, I am wondering if this makes a difference.)
I was surprised to know how many women had never even gotten to attend school. I expected this from the women who were 40+, but was surprised to find that most of the younger women, many of which are around my age (25-35 years old) have never even attended school.
However, when we ask the "future plans" question, more often than not, people will hope for the higher education for thier children/grandchildren (where relevant). Most of them link education to improved economic status through way of "better jobs" especially government jobs, which have good pay and benefits.
It is hard to make a deep connection with the women, because I spend so little time with them. Many of them, from what I understand actually think that I am a white woman from America, and not an Indian from America. Most of the time, the translator gives a short explanation of why I am there, but many are skeptical as to why I would bother. (not all, but especially in the poorer villages, they are very skeptical.) Moreover, many of them, when I ask "do you have questions for me?" will respond that they wish I would contribute to the sangha. To which I have to politely respond (through the translator) "I'm sorry but I am just a student etc."
Finally, it is interesting how people react to me, even when I am decked out (each day) in a salvar kameeze (tunic and baggy pants that make up traditional indian wear). The children in villages and pretty much everyone else (men and women alike) will come to wherever we are interviewing and just watch me and when I look over and smile at the children, they giggle and act really shy. The whole thing is really interesting, becuase they really do view me as a complete stranger.
more later. i think i will leave the internet cafe, three hours of broadband is enough even for this internet junkie:) and head back to do some results...
also, (it aint over till i sing!) i have to say that while i was initially lonely, having some books and music has really had a great effect... i wish i could interact with the community more in the evenings... but unless i drag my translator to each village after work hours and ask him to help me talk to people, i am basically in a silent world...bc kannada is still quite foreign (even though there are some cognates with tamil). i am really awaiting my short field study period in tamil nadu, because at least then i will be able to talk to people....
lastly i hate being on other people's time.... i want to do things when i want to..but i have to wake up eat breakfast at the same time, and dinner etc.. its sooooooooo bizarre!
okay ... i think this was more venting than an informative blog post :) more adventures to come!!!!
(to my readership...thank you) readership = akka! :)
My first week of interviews is complete. We interviewed about thirty women, starting with 12 on the first day. The first few interviews were clumsy, confusing and long. It did not help that half of Myrada was sitting in the room, which made it seem more like interrogation than just a simple interview. Of course the training director who had berated me for being late a day earlier, showed up three hours late, only to interrupt and then proceed to take over the second interview. He treats the women so badly, it embarasses me to be in his company. However, these women are either not aware of it, or realize that they cannot do much to change things (I'm not sure which is worse).
He talks down to everyone, and is typical bougie Indian yelling from his desk for everything from dialing a number to a cup of tea. Moreover, when he sees me, he talks to me like I am a child. This lasted about 2 hours before I got really angry and came out guns a blazing the day after I was ill. I laid out my requests, was curt, direct and used such a strong voice that suddenly he was at least paying attention. I have to give him another dose of "American bitch-in yo face don't mess with me because i'm meaner than i look" tomorrow because instead of telling ME (the person in charge of the research) about who was accompanying us to villages, he found it easier to tell my translator, Vijay ( a man). Grrrrrr.
In any case, the first day ended with a really great interview. I got to interview, Janakamma, a really wonderful woman, about 35 years old. She lives with her four children, her husband and her aging parents. At first, I think her family was really skeptical of me (as most people are) but soon after we both warmed up to one another, and I had a really wonderful time. She is one of those women you can't forget because she inspires something in you. Her four children are really sweet, especially her 13 year old daughter, whose birthday it was. (I think I was way more excited than the little girl was!) We sat on the floor with the family in her living room (most other interviews happened at the Myrada RC buildings) and talked through the interview like it was a regular conversation. She had really detailed answers and was really willing to explain things to me. I even got to ask her mom some questions. She wants to send her children all for higher education. At present, she works in her own family shop and also acts as a bookkeeper for several other SHGs, since she unlike most of the women I have met, has attended school till SLC (10th grade) level. (Her mom, when I asked, mentioned that she wanted to send her daughter to school because she had not gotten the opportunity to complete because of marrying so early and having children etc.)
This interview was in stark contrast to the women I spoke with yesterday morning who basically contested the purpose of having a female child study beyond the seventh grade. The woman, about 35 years old, answered forcefully when I asked why girls shouldn't be sent to school. "There isn't any point! Besides its not safe to send them to school far away." I probed some more and she explained that girls "will go to thier husband's homes, its up to thier husbands to decide whether the women will leave the home. " This particular group of women were all of the Muslim community. From what Rafi has told me, a significant majority of Muslim families throughout this area do not allow young women to leave the home after a certain age. Married women are more likely to have a chance to leave their home to work, but single women, are pretty much banned beyond a certain age. (Also, a lot of women around this area wear the full hijab, I was surprised both at the size of the Muslim community and how traditional some of them are.)
I did meet two Muslim women on Friday, whose children had studied beyond 7th grade and actually mentioned that they would like to see thier grandchildren seek higher education. (These women were however, in the town and not in the rural villages, I am wondering if this makes a difference.)
I was surprised to know how many women had never even gotten to attend school. I expected this from the women who were 40+, but was surprised to find that most of the younger women, many of which are around my age (25-35 years old) have never even attended school.
However, when we ask the "future plans" question, more often than not, people will hope for the higher education for thier children/grandchildren (where relevant). Most of them link education to improved economic status through way of "better jobs" especially government jobs, which have good pay and benefits.
It is hard to make a deep connection with the women, because I spend so little time with them. Many of them, from what I understand actually think that I am a white woman from America, and not an Indian from America. Most of the time, the translator gives a short explanation of why I am there, but many are skeptical as to why I would bother. (not all, but especially in the poorer villages, they are very skeptical.) Moreover, many of them, when I ask "do you have questions for me?" will respond that they wish I would contribute to the sangha. To which I have to politely respond (through the translator) "I'm sorry but I am just a student etc."
Finally, it is interesting how people react to me, even when I am decked out (each day) in a salvar kameeze (tunic and baggy pants that make up traditional indian wear). The children in villages and pretty much everyone else (men and women alike) will come to wherever we are interviewing and just watch me and when I look over and smile at the children, they giggle and act really shy. The whole thing is really interesting, becuase they really do view me as a complete stranger.
more later. i think i will leave the internet cafe, three hours of broadband is enough even for this internet junkie:) and head back to do some results...
also, (it aint over till i sing!) i have to say that while i was initially lonely, having some books and music has really had a great effect... i wish i could interact with the community more in the evenings... but unless i drag my translator to each village after work hours and ask him to help me talk to people, i am basically in a silent world...bc kannada is still quite foreign (even though there are some cognates with tamil). i am really awaiting my short field study period in tamil nadu, because at least then i will be able to talk to people....
lastly i hate being on other people's time.... i want to do things when i want to..but i have to wake up eat breakfast at the same time, and dinner etc.. its sooooooooo bizarre!
okay ... i think this was more venting than an informative blog post :) more adventures to come!!!!
(to my readership...thank you) readership = akka! :)
July 1, 2007
Breakdown I had a break down today, I was feeling really ill, had palpitations and the impending doom of an anxiety attack and suddenly felt really helpless. I have heard from different people that this happens when you go away for a while, especially when you are away from familiar things. I knew it, and it still shocked me, as I sat weeping in front of my laptop for no apparent reason. I think I was just tired, having traveled back to Bangalore just to check e-mail and fill out loan applications and buy some books. I just did not know how to get back on the bus and it was a good thing - I ended up getting really sick later that night, likely due to the random places that I had eaten at over the weekend.
I am still quite ill, but after a much-needed talk with my sister, I am feeling better, at least mentally. Physically, I am exhausted, I have lost probably 5 to 7 pounds over the last week and I feel more sapped of energy than I have in a while. The 5 hour journey back to Chitradurga did not help this feeling. I took this picture on the bus back this morning.
At first, I was afraid to admit, so publicly, that I broke down. Then I realized that maybe (just maybe) I am not the only one who feels just a bit lonely, when you are the only one who speaks the language and are far away from everything even a proper phone connection. I have been okay for more than a month now, but I realized that the isolation of my field site coupled with an environment that is not necessarily welcoming (literally - see previous post on bugs), has just weighed a lot more heavily on me than I had ever expected.
to top it off, my first day of fieldwork was a disaster... i got here late, was late to meet the SHG members who had come from villages all over, and had some kind of stomach virus. All in all, it was a terrible way to start my work, but hopefully I will come through it and make this project a success.
Also, it did not help that the training director of the NGO is so overbearing and insensitive and did practically everything but accuse me of lying about being sick. He started treating me differently as soon as Doug (my RA) left. Its so interesting to me how some of the Indian men here, treat me like I am some sort of child that they can boss around and disrespect unless there is a Westerner present. I am finding more and more how deep-rooted thier vision of women is, at least in more rural parts of the country. I felt it a lot more since I have come to this rural pat of Karnataka, because before this, gender roles did not seem so pronounced.
Breakdown I had a break down today, I was feeling really ill, had palpitations and the impending doom of an anxiety attack and suddenly felt really helpless. I have heard from different people that this happens when you go away for a while, especially when you are away from familiar things. I knew it, and it still shocked me, as I sat weeping in front of my laptop for no apparent reason. I think I was just tired, having traveled back to Bangalore just to check e-mail and fill out loan applications and buy some books. I just did not know how to get back on the bus and it was a good thing - I ended up getting really sick later that night, likely due to the random places that I had eaten at over the weekend.
I am still quite ill, but after a much-needed talk with my sister, I am feeling better, at least mentally. Physically, I am exhausted, I have lost probably 5 to 7 pounds over the last week and I feel more sapped of energy than I have in a while. The 5 hour journey back to Chitradurga did not help this feeling. I took this picture on the bus back this morning.
At first, I was afraid to admit, so publicly, that I broke down. Then I realized that maybe (just maybe) I am not the only one who feels just a bit lonely, when you are the only one who speaks the language and are far away from everything even a proper phone connection. I have been okay for more than a month now, but I realized that the isolation of my field site coupled with an environment that is not necessarily welcoming (literally - see previous post on bugs), has just weighed a lot more heavily on me than I had ever expected.
to top it off, my first day of fieldwork was a disaster... i got here late, was late to meet the SHG members who had come from villages all over, and had some kind of stomach virus. All in all, it was a terrible way to start my work, but hopefully I will come through it and make this project a success.
Also, it did not help that the training director of the NGO is so overbearing and insensitive and did practically everything but accuse me of lying about being sick. He started treating me differently as soon as Doug (my RA) left. Its so interesting to me how some of the Indian men here, treat me like I am some sort of child that they can boss around and disrespect unless there is a Westerner present. I am finding more and more how deep-rooted thier vision of women is, at least in more rural parts of the country. I felt it a lot more since I have come to this rural pat of Karnataka, because before this, gender roles did not seem so pronounced.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
hampi
June 30, 2007
We traveled to Hampi today. Hampi is a town that has the last major empire in the South. It was a beautiful day and it was an amazing place. The Dravidian architecture was so detailed and so unique.
Here are some pictures:
We went to several different parts and then decided to have a quick lunch before heading to the last location, Vittala's Palace. We stopped at another "hotel" that literally frightened me. The sink had no running water, so we washed our hands with water that was meant for customers' drinking needs.
Vittala Palace was built I believe around 400 or 500 years ago, by the last series of reigning kings in South India. (I will update this with history, at the moment I really do not recall!) After looking around and taking pictures, a young boy approached Doug and asked him if he wanted a guided tour of Vittala Palace. We agreed to take a tour, for a price of 50 rupees. The boy led us around, shared some facts about the famed chariot that sits in the middle, the palace architecture and the musical pillars. (It is said that one can actually "play" the different pillars and that during the time it was built, dancers were commissioned to dance to the music played on the towers.)He showed us another part of the palace where pillars did still make music. (People are no longer allowed to use the pillars because the reverberations weaken the building.)
Then, he for some reason, shooed the others in our group away (we had gone with the couple who does the cooking at the cantene here on the Myrada campus and Rafi, one of the Myrada drivers.) He mumbled something in Kannada and decided to take us to the last part of the tour. He began by posing a question "why are so many poses in the kama sutra at the temple?" I had to bite my lip not to laugh outright. He continued, "You see, we don't have sex education in this country, not even in this day and age and so thats why parents would tell their children to go to the temple after marriage." "At the temple," he enlightened us, "they would see all of these kama sutra poses and think hmmm what is that?" He then went off in a direction that made me laugh uncontrollably for fifteen minutes, I just could not help myself, it was the funniest thing I had ever heard in a long time, told to me in a very interesting English. He pondered, "What would a man do if his wife did not want to have s*x?" He responded, "He needs to make her feel nice." He gestured to a carving on one side of the wall, that indicated just that. I couldn't believe it, I had never really looked at a temple in that way, and then there was this 20 year old man, who did not know anything about anything animatedly telling us about the kama sutra. I cannot fully recount everything he said here, because it does go into some unnecessary detail, ending in some knowledge about how monkeys conduct themselves. (See me for the complete story when I get back in late August.) .... I really wish I had turned on my digital voice recorder. It was so funny, and the fact that this boy was speaking in this accent, made it all the funnier, especially when he kept using the phrase "pregnancy positive." Except it came out more like "prug nooon ceee po zeezz tivvv." .
(Frampi/Joe - you guys would have really thought this was funny...I am being presumptuous and assuming you both are excitedly reading each bit of my blog hehee.)
I really did laugh though :) ....
ps. I suspect that non-western tourists don't get the "kama sutra" section of the tour... just a thought
We traveled to Hampi today. Hampi is a town that has the last major empire in the South. It was a beautiful day and it was an amazing place. The Dravidian architecture was so detailed and so unique.
Here are some pictures:
 |  | One of the temple pillars on the left, Vittala palace on the right |
We went to several different parts and then decided to have a quick lunch before heading to the last location, Vittala's Palace. We stopped at another "hotel" that literally frightened me. The sink had no running water, so we washed our hands with water that was meant for customers' drinking needs.
Vittala Palace was built I believe around 400 or 500 years ago, by the last series of reigning kings in South India. (I will update this with history, at the moment I really do not recall!) After looking around and taking pictures, a young boy approached Doug and asked him if he wanted a guided tour of Vittala Palace. We agreed to take a tour, for a price of 50 rupees. The boy led us around, shared some facts about the famed chariot that sits in the middle, the palace architecture and the musical pillars. (It is said that one can actually "play" the different pillars and that during the time it was built, dancers were commissioned to dance to the music played on the towers.)He showed us another part of the palace where pillars did still make music. (People are no longer allowed to use the pillars because the reverberations weaken the building.)
Then, he for some reason, shooed the others in our group away (we had gone with the couple who does the cooking at the cantene here on the Myrada campus and Rafi, one of the Myrada drivers.) He mumbled something in Kannada and decided to take us to the last part of the tour. He began by posing a question "why are so many poses in the kama sutra at the temple?" I had to bite my lip not to laugh outright. He continued, "You see, we don't have sex education in this country, not even in this day and age and so thats why parents would tell their children to go to the temple after marriage." "At the temple," he enlightened us, "they would see all of these kama sutra poses and think hmmm what is that?" He then went off in a direction that made me laugh uncontrollably for fifteen minutes, I just could not help myself, it was the funniest thing I had ever heard in a long time, told to me in a very interesting English. He pondered, "What would a man do if his wife did not want to have s*x?" He responded, "He needs to make her feel nice." He gestured to a carving on one side of the wall, that indicated just that. I couldn't believe it, I had never really looked at a temple in that way, and then there was this 20 year old man, who did not know anything about anything animatedly telling us about the kama sutra. I cannot fully recount everything he said here, because it does go into some unnecessary detail, ending in some knowledge about how monkeys conduct themselves. (See me for the complete story when I get back in late August.) .... I really wish I had turned on my digital voice recorder. It was so funny, and the fact that this boy was speaking in this accent, made it all the funnier, especially when he kept using the phrase "pregnancy positive." Except it came out more like "prug nooon ceee po zeezz tivvv."
(Frampi/Joe - you guys would have really thought this was funny...I am being presumptuous and assuming you both are excitedly reading each bit of my blog hehee.)
I really did laugh though :) ....
ps. I suspect that non-western tourists don't get the "kama sutra" section of the tour... just a thought
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