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.

Is this a beach vacation?

It seems somehow, as fortunate as I may be, whether it is almost getting hit by a bus or motorcycle, or getting to taste some random exotic fruit I've never tried before that I always end up at the beach. In my journey so far I have not taken any time on my own to travel away from Lead Forward and have spent most all of my time with people working for the program or in relation to impoverished people in India. I have maximum 4 non Indian acquaintances and I call them that because 3 of them I've only met once, and the other has left the country. So how is it that I have all these magnificent beach experiences. I've been to the tourist beaches where historic temples come with a high fee for entrance, even for India. I've been to the biggest beach 13km long with a width that you could hold track and field events. I've seen boys practicing gymnastics and break dancing flipping and flopping in the sand and crashing into the sea. I've been accosted by boys with their 'pet' monkeys trying to get any rupee from the foreign girl. I've been to deserted beaches where fishing villages are still trying to reconstruct their lives after tsunami devastation. I've been taken out to sea in their hardcore boats with thumping trumpets of engines cruising along with priests and administrative assistants. I've been to the most deserted village beaches near Cuddalore where all the industrial factories are developing without any pollution control. To compare the most industrial places with the most natural without any restrictions for either, no wonder they say Cuddalore is the #5 most polluted city in the world. I wonder what the future toxicity of that gorgeous beach will be. I've sat under a palm tree plucking roses to put in my hair while eating cashew biscuits and drinking Pepsi. I've had women's empowerment discussions under these palm trees. I've been to the touristic Silver Beach where there have been so many people it's difficult to see the sand or walk and on other visits I've relaxed in the sand for hours losing track of time discussing philosophy and culture. I've indulged in cashew butterscotch ice cream that costs only 20 cents. It's rich creamy half melted consistency cooling me along with the sticky ocean breeze. I've sat with families. I've sat with friends. I've sat with clergy. I've debated with security officers who don't speak English and bad mouthed commissioners who have come to inspect and regulate the beach scene. I've eaten fried, battered bananas, chillies and onions wiping my greasy fingers on my jeans or some newspaper. I've swam with skirts, jeans and churyda, but never in a swimsuit. I've been an assistant architect for magnificent sandcastles and posed in photos with random strangers. I've watched the sun set into the sparking black sea it's blazing pink, orange and red colors captured, everlasting by my dinosaur of a camera. For all the frustration and fight the oppressed are faced with whether or not they can afford a cinema ticket to distract themselves for three hours at least there is so much natural beauty that they can surely be distracted for a while.

School Time

clockwise from top left:

-Dalit Graduation Ceremony, Chennai with students from Dr. Arullappa, Neerpayer

-3rd Std. students at St. Joseph's Porour (Fr. Jayaseeleans establishment)

-Sacred Heart, Cuddalore: Sister Sagayam teaching embroidery stitches

-English reading practice at Sacred Heart Cuddalore Hostel

-Lead Forward students of Sacred Heart Cuddalore

-My visit of St. Mary's Chengelpattu

Political Excellence

Election time is coming to India and that means there is a lot of excitement and a lot to be wary of. Individuals who have received a seat in any particular party have begun to campaign to hopefully be elected and officially join their respective party. They need to have intense financial backing, just like in the states to get any ideas to the actual people, but instead of signage in a front yard or a bumper sticker on a car in India it means visiting individual villages, to many to count, and giving bribes in terms of jewelry, rupees, rice or other rations. People may vote for you because you truly have good ideas, but they are used to getting something from the politicians in exchange for their vote. Especially in rural places the desire for stuff is becoming increasingly important. The grass is greener on the other side is how they are being trained to think because of the effects of the media and capitalism. If my neighbor buys a DVD player for his government given television surely I need to buy a DVD player and a computer. So if one politician is giving gold earrings and the other is giving promise for the future the lack of education and desperation based on socio-economic factory, that family will probably take the earrings and place a vote with the more corrupt candidate. Typically the village people decide who will win in the election because there are so many more people living rurally than as city dwellers. Of course the candidates know this and take full advantage. This is also the reason why more violence is happening in the villages. Capturing of polling stations, illegal balloting, false votes etc. I have met people who have told me how they changed the votes of entire villages and it has resulted in a favorable outcome in the election for those people participating in the corruption. As exciting as election time is, it is also a time to be aware of the random danger that may erupt in local towns and cities. A political demonstration could turn violent. People are commonly burning themselves in support of Tamils in Sri Lanka and they may well do the same to support their political party. The television commericals with current pop songs and animated political figures transformed into symbolic leaves, sunsets, or Rubik's cubes are catchy and fun, yet they are hiding the danger and corruption seemingly joined with politics in India.

Happy Birthday B.R. Ambedkar!

Monday was Ambedkars birthday and boy what a celebration was had. I was invited by my friend and activist Sherin who is working in Chennai for a women's support and post graduate studies financial support for college students. She told me it was an important day and that if I could manage I should attend the event she helped to organize to celebrate the ideas and life of Ambedkar on his birthday occasion. Since I had just returned to Chengelpattu the day before I was planning to spend a couple days catching up on reading and e-mailing so I figured it was a good idea to take the day and participate in supporting Ambedkar as he is a great role model for the Dalit makkal. I managed to meet Sherin after taking two buses and one auto rickshaw (mind you they were all in Tamil script) with the help of some nice local Tamilians. It seemed to me that this arrangement would be a small meeting of sorts and was just a good opportunity to interact and learn from the dalit network. The even was beyond anything I could have been prepared for. There were women cooking pongol with cow dung and clay pots, there was a stage with famous singers and politicians even one celebrity actor, there was an art display and an Ambedkar museum, there was an Ambedkar statue, book vendors, a ferris wheel and so many people. Police in khaki uniforms lined the street in clusters and pretended to look busy arranging the motorcycles that were parked on vacant lots. It was fantastic. Just arriving I encountered three or four people I knew and throughout the day there were so many of my friend comprised of fellow activists, leaders, teachers, priests and students. We watched traditional dancing, Sherin received an award, people made speeches, political figures danced on stage. We ate chicken biriyani wrapped in plastic then in newspaper in packets tied with white string. The grease and spices soaked through the plastic and paper and coated your palms and fingertips. Everyone sat in a circle and mushed chicken into rice and rice into egg to make sticky balls of food and pop them in their mouths. I met an Ambedkarist named Mr. Thousand Sunshine who is trying to teach me how child voting rights will end caste and establish equality. I challenged him on the spot of course and asked him if children should also be legally allowed to purchase and consume liquor. He said I was out of line and that didn't have any relevance to his idea. Unfortunately after the fashion design students from Dr. Arullappa school in Neerpayer and the politicians finished their impromptu dance presentation on stage I was asked to give a speech about. Surprise! You're on stage infornt of hundreds of people without any preparation and you have to speak to the people. I spoke some basic Tamil words which is always a crowd pleaser then told everyone to spread the word about Ambedkar and his influence in society. Teach the students, teach your friends, teach your grandparents. Then I tried my best at creating this total dalit network and said we have to work together to fight oppression and carry out the dream and goals that Ambedkar embarked on. Fortunately Sherin translated this for me and I was applauded and people came asking me to give my autograph, take photos with their children, wanted my phone number... you name it! Even one young man was dancing for me...okay, so that was most awkward even beyond the speech and autographs, but in general I have learned as a foreign person you have an obligation to the people and something seemingly strange and minuscule as signing an autograph can really make someone happy for the moment. It was a great celebration for the dalit people and for all people, regardless of caste and creed, to come together in the name of change and with the ideas of Ambedkar. I look forward to being part of the planning comittee for these events in the future. On April 18 I will spend some time with Sherin in Chennai working on how to get more college support for Lead Forward students and to become part of more programs and organizations working to eradicate caste and oppression.

Bucket Life

Bucket and pots of all kinds can be found in India and the uses are vast and various. Steel is the most common type of plate or bowl material. It is also the material of all tumblers most importantly tea cups. In the home tea will be served in steel, in public tea stalls, tea will be served in glasses. If you are a guest then tea may even be served in china in a petit cup and saucer. There are some porcelain factories specializing in the craft just like the people who specialize in clay pot making. In the morning I wake up sweaty with red cheeks from my hot summer sleeping. I go to the bathroom and begin to fill a bucket. Mathews apartment has four buckets and depending on what my activity I may use three or one. There is an opaque salmon colored bucket with matching pouring cup for toilet use. There is a large turquoise bucket with blue pouring cup for showering and then there is a small opaque speckled gray bucket and a translucent white bucket with blue streaks both of which I will use when washing my clothes. It is always good exercise to do the washing but if I have access to a washing machine my clothes will definitely be cleaner. I will fill the turquoise bucket for my bath. Since I have been here I have reduced my water consumption from one and a half turquoise buckets to only one. Sometimes I will take an extra cupful of water to collect all my curly hairs and spot clean the bathroom. The knob filling the salmon colored bucket needs to be pushed down in the last second before it closes, it took me a couple tries to get used to that. If I am doing my wash I will normally do two loads. First one soapy bucket with the clothes I will imitate a washing machine and use this plastic scrubbing brush for spot cleaning or general abrasion. The dhobis who make a living washing clothing smack the tuni (clothes) on abrasive cement surfaces. The smack them in bundles making a musical rhythm of the sloshing and sudsy water splashing all around. If you have any buttons or embroidery with beading better to use the gently cycle and do it yourself. After the first washing there are two buckets waiting for me each half filled with water. Taking a shirt by the shoulders or a pant by the waist I quickly and repeatedly dip the garment in and out of the water. In the position of the women working in the paddy fields bent at the waist with knees straight I will rinse in the first bucket, ring the garment out and then rinse in the second bucket. Depending on if there is any soap in the second bucket I know whether my technique is working or not. This technique I learned here, though I have not adjusted to the musical sloshing yet, but initially upon my arrival I was just washing in the first bucket and then running water from the tap over every clothing. It took me forever and was totally wasteful. The most poor people know the best most creative ways to use all materials efficiently and effectively. I have yet to see a dryer and part of the fun is stepping into crispy fresh smelling jeans that have been soaking up the suns rays and are rapidly becoming threadbare and full of holes.