White Babies

If you take a moment to examine the public reading material in the US, mainly magazines, newspapers textbooks etc, the photographs of so called ordinary people are usually black or white like the people in our country. This is not meant to be racist in any way, just to see some cultural differences and really examine racism beyond the obvious black and white. I visited the card shop today to find a birthday card for my nine year old friend Ashwithi. She speaks English fluently and can be seen taking the center of attention or vying for it. At the card shop there were many cards to choose from. Mostly birthday cards, some for Christmas and some for holy communion. The card I picked had a butterfly theme with a pop out inside which I thought was great for the occasion, but I could have easily picked a drawing of a white naked baby holding a rose with some gold glitter instead. There were no cards with black babies or Indian babies, or Swedish babies. Earlier this year I photographed a Math book and on the first page of the first lesson was a white baby with a bumblebee costume. Who is this child and why are they in the Math book for LKG students? Can an Indian student aged 6 identify with a white baby? Chances are they have never seen a white person before. During my first month here for Pongol holiday I went to the village Alagapasamuthiram and met our successful student Susai's mother. She is also a success story and inspires her whole village among others with her hard work and dedication to provide funding for her children to complete studies through college. On the wall in the main room of their house there were two posters with motivational phrases.... and WHITE BABIES. Susai's mother is obviously Indian, so why are the people famed on the walls white? The British rule in India was a detrimental time of exploitation and segregation. The caste system itself sprouted from British Brahminical thinking. The people who are oppressed in villages want to identify themselves in their home and school with the same color person that put them in the situation to struggle for basic survival. I think if you explained this they would not accept this arrangement, so why are there white babies? Don't get me wrong I've seen some Asian babies on posters in pediatric hospitals and saree shops, but the majority of the subjects are clearly of Aryan descent. Today also I began to promote the slogan 'Black is Beautiful' to two shop girls who were saying how beautiful I was after buying some kerchiefs. I dominated after they put themselves down by comparing the color of their arm to mine and said their arm was the better color, my face is an ugly red color and I want a beautiful face like theirs, even throwing in the Tamil words for good and beautiful. The didn't have a chance to combat because they felt a moment of confidence and were too shocked to react. The printing presses should start photographing Indian babies and the tradition of putting a black dot on a child's face and feet so say they are too young to be complimented should be outlawed. You should be able to say an infant is beautiful or cute even without having to worry about some made up curse threatening their future. I've met people suffering from the effects of the evil eye and I feel terrible that they are the only ones making themselves suffer so. It's pitiful. In resolution, make and buy posters with Indian babies, compliment infants on their looks and features and forget about the imaginary spirits that will threaten your entire psyche and physical being. Affect your future by taking full advantage of NOW!

My Wedding Ring

So after being in India four months I have learned first hand about the reputation that preceds foreign women. Not only have I heard stories and read them in the news about incidents when foreign women acted in a most unrespectable manner, but I have seen volunteers wearing provocative clothing even around children. This reputation extends to me and it is something I am battling against along with the stereotype that all foreigners are super rich. In this fight to the finish I have made one purchase that has changed my individual status and if it were true and I returned to the US I would get some tax breaks. I bought a wedding ring. Ok, so it is a seriously cheap imposter costing 70 rupees or $1.40. Now it is becoming tarnished... must be the water. The backside has been scratched through to expose its copper color, and sometimes it turns my finger green, but the stories I tell and the jokes between my local friends are quite entertaining. Men will be quite provocative in shops and especially on buses. The only prompt for them is my white skin. Not even my western clothing is an excuse for this forward behavior because all the modern girls wear jeans. So now I am a married woman. I usually say I have been married for a year and have no children because then I would have to stay in my country because I would miss them too much. Last week my husband was an architect and this week he is a banking manager. The best joke is that last week I had a son, really no morning sickness or stretch marks. My husband is supposed to come visit in June, but we talk every couple days and the situation is really difficult. Sometimes I just laugh to myself and try to imagine marrying a bank manager. What kind of life would I lead then? Fortunately this tends to ward off the more strange behavior, but the intentions won't change. People are no different, having extramarital affairs and prostuting themselves. If someone is trying to touch you inappropriately they will manage to do it. Really this is an experience to understand how the women are thought of in society. Their sex is not given respect, but they will be exploited for sex with no consequence. Who knows what my husband will be doing next week or if i'll have quintuplets, but in the mean time I am having some interesting unavoidable life experiences.

Code of Conduct

Chennai is a wild city, and traveling by any means is always an adventure. In my last visit I was going with my friend and fellow activist Sherin to meet a team of drug sellers in the district of Guindy. No, we weren't going to fuel our cocaine addiction, these people are selling pharmaseuticals under the prestegious name Swiss Garnier. Personally I think of pocket knives mixed with hair products from Swiss Army Knives and Garnier Fructis shampoo's and conditioners. From Perambur we took an auto rickshaw that Sherin had already taken one tour of the city with previously that day. You have to be careful not to hire a drunkard, then your drive will be more nauseating and dangerous than imagineable. Since she trusted this driver she hired him again. The drive in auto is almost one hour through the dusty streets, past slums and high class neighborhoods and hotels, but this certain adventure would show how comfortable I have become as an expatraite, and also how much more adaptation I would need to really become a local. We were driving along a stretch of road consisting of three lanes, at least the pavement marking were for three lanes, but the drivers created about 5. This auto rickshaw driver had been driving dangerously close to every car, person, and fueling tank that we approached. In one instance a two wheeler, otherwise known as a motorcycle rolled back 1 inch after coming to a stop in traffic and hit the auto because our driver was so close to his bike there was no place for his movement of any kind. Fortunately or not this couple was muslim and the woman on the back of the bike was sitting side saddle wearing a burka. As soon as her eyes met the auto man's her arm flew in the air and a clenched fist began waving in his direction. He tried to pay no mind, but because he was so close her scolding was unavoidable. So on the three lane open road the traffic was building. Auto man's phone started ringing in his pants pocket. He began frantically searching for it, something to distract him from his hectic and semi-unfortunate life and a driver. He ended up missing the call but slowed the auto so much so that he was lagging behind all other traffic. He placed the phone next to his left leg on the seat. About 3 minutes later the phone rang and his erratic driving slowed again. He began talking and driving Sherin and I. This moment is similar to being the passenger on a motorcycle driven by one hand. I freaked out. Earlier I had asked for his accident record and he told me he was a very safe cautious driver. No way I felt safe at this point. I began first telling him to hang up the phone, louder and louder I commented. He began talking about me in another language to the third party. After he hung up in annoyance I really sent him some words. I told him he was an idiot for disobeying the traffic laws that you can't drive and speak on the phone and that he knew better. I told him I didn't want to die in India and that he was responsible for my life, Sherin's life and his own which clearly didn't affect him at all. Then I said if he recieved any other calls he must pull over and by this point I was making huge gestures with my arms to explain myself better. I'm sure he understood everything I said. He said the call was an emergency and I said I didn't care who it was he must pull over or i'll beat him until he does. I told him that he knew better and why didn't he use his head to think instead of just hold the phone to it. Does he want to die? I pestered him until his repeated yes mam's because monotonous. So much for the traffic police or the intense signs saying all these things like talking on the phone and drinking will kill you and someone else in your potential accident. Really the signs are intense I'll post some traffic and health safety signage in the future. So now i'm working to change the individual and act as a mother or guidance counselor for all the misdeed's I witness. I can almost guarantee that I didn't affect him at all, but at least Sherin was entertained for part of the ride.

Are you in India?

You know when you're in India because in the month of May the rooftops and sidewalks are too hot to walk on without shoes. Even when you say the word shoes it only means enclosed footwear. If you are referring to sandals which everyone is wearing then you should refer to them as slippers. If you are washing your laundry by hand in buckets then you go and hang them to dry in the sun you first try to go without shoes because it is the most natural and lazy way, but soon after the soles of your feet are red and they feel like they are covered in 1,000 blisters you hold your dripping wet clothes on one arm and put your shoes on with the other.
You know you're in India when you wake up in the morning and after opening your eyes you are already sweating like you have just been working out at the gym. If you take a shower you need to have an initial sweat to block your pores so you sweat less afterwards or you are already wet so you don't feel as if you are sweating as much. If you eat a meal anytime during the day or night, even after the sun sets and the cool night air consumes your surroundings, you will sweat. Whether it is the curry spices or the work you have to do chewing and feeding yourself you will be sweating like a fat white man at New Jersey beach.
You know you are in India if you have strange happenings with your skin. If you go for a walk and then prepare to take a bath and see heat rash all over your thighs or sit on the floor during dinner and then realize that your leg is covered in red ants that are biting you. If you scrape your knee or scratch your mosquito bites and everyone shows concern and wonders how and what has happened to you similar to the effect of you being in a serious accident. If you being to examine other peoples strange skin ailments like albinism, boils, goiters, strange scars and then suspect yourself of the same problems. You are definitely in India.
If you are in a restaurant, meeting, medical shop, fruit stand, bus station or wherever and everyone around you is coughing and hacking and spitting pieces of their throats on the ground you are definitely in India. I think at least half the population has some kind of bronchial infection, irritation or just enjoys hacking. The intensity of the dust is something that no human body, no matter how long you have worked to adapt to this environment, cannot get used to. The pollution and exhaust from the cars with no emission standards is definitely another culprit, but no one is complaining about that.
You know you are in India when you ask local people for directions and they themselves don't even know where places are. Is it before or after the slum area?Is it the first street on the right or the second street on the left. If you read the book India: Culture Shock as I did before visiting you will be informed that people will make up directions even if they don't know where your destination is. As if it is making you less manly if you admit that you don't know where the location is. This is something to hilariously compare to the US with the notion that men won't ask for directions. After living in India, I'm not sure if it's women's instinct or experience, but I can tell when someone is making up directions even if they seem totally legitimate. This is definitely a task that needs superior focus because the directions are being given to someone in my party in Tamil. Sometimes the attitude or the drunken slurs that give it away.