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.

Political Exile

Last week I was visiting the Loyola Teacher Training Institute in one village Krishnankuppum. To have a college level institution in a village is one thing amazing in itself. The fact that this school turns out students with the highest ranks in the district creates that much more credibility. I had met with the director at the Pongol Holiday function and he invited me back to visit the school which unbelievably actually happened. I observed classes, wrote and received letters from the students, and talked about future developments. Always in India, everything boils down to money. The financial obstacle is the most prominent in any interaction with an organization or school to a beggar or performer on the street. I had a good experience and then decided to continue my time with this director, Dalit Arockidoss. We went to Chennai for some political experience and most importantly, one meeting uniting many of the Christian Educational and Political movements in Tamil Nadu. By this point in my journey, most of my time has been spent with priests, sisters or in Christian institutions, so I was hesitant, but this experience seemed interesting to me because Dalit Arockidoss is basically against most interpretations of Christianity and he wants to educate people to use religion in a positive not desperate or dependent way. He has a let it be how it will be philosophy. So I joined this excursion through the Dalit Christian Liberation Movement (DCLM). I attended one small meeting with only the DCLM, about 10 members, standing on a road alongside a fence by a Christian church and school. There were no rooms available for us contrary to what we had expected. This meeting relocated to another church led by a local bishop and then about 40 people filtered in within one hour. Only one woman attended, she is a minister. We were the only two female participants. I found the discussion interesting, but achieving one platform to unite with a political party still seemed like an impossible task, this was largely caste related. Afterwards the DCLM went to BSP parties clubhouse where I began my political exile. Without pages of detail, the BSP wants to unite all castes and people through politics, but they have given many seats to high caste rich people so they are exhibiting some corruption. In the UP there is a Dalit woman who is the CM and a BSP representative. She wants to gain power in TN. Having a Dalit acting as CM is a great provocative way to battle oppression, but through her activities, she now has more crows that most other politicans and CM's. Thus the corruption continues as people still don't respect her because she is a Dalit which is why she has not succeded in becoming the CM of TN. The DCLM wanted to get some seats through the party to contest in the election and my presence was equivalent to foreign money so I went for a walk and took a nap in the car. The following two days included related events at the BSP clubhouse and attempts to get the paperwork for one of 40 seats with the party. Each time I took a necessary nap in the car. Late nights of political discussions and venting with huge afternoon meals at hotels (restaurants) in political force of 10-20 people was definitely worth sleeping fewer hours. The final day in Chennai the DMK Chief Minister Karunanidhi was coming to their headquarters and I became a foreign press agent in the lineup that was organized to welcome him. Karunanidhi is 87 years old, ridin' a wheel chair and has just been released from the hospital. He always wears dark expensive sunglasses. I was woken abruptly and rushed from the car to join the masses. Still in a slight daze I placed my own $3 sunglasses on and hobbled after Dalit Arockidoss to the crowd. Immediately my bag was searched and three security guards had surrounded me. We crossed the center from one side to the other and a guard pulled me away from Dalit Arockidoss. Oh NO!! I thought, but abruptly I was forced into the small grouping of 5 women watched by a pushy woman in a lilac chury. I managed to snap one photo of Karunanidhi's arm and the rest just the masses of men wearing white. People rushed the car and Dalit Arockidoss suggested I do the same, so I slipped behind a hut and through a gate to join the news crews. Immediately a guard told me I was not allowed to take photos. Only me, next to the crowd of 20 photographers and videographers was given this command. A small man in a bell hop uniform told me to follow him to take some photos and I glanced at the security guard and did, but there were too many people to have even a fighting chance, so i retreated , joined Arockidoss and wiped my sweaty brow. What Arockidoss says is definitely true the whiter you are the more corrupt you are.

Camels and Monkeys Galore!

Before coming to India I had a conversation with three native youngsters whose parents had immigrated to the US and were just about to have their fourth child. This was part of my preparation and intense informative sessions so generously organized by Phil and Nancy. I asked them prompted by their parents what animals you could find roaming India and they told me monkeys, cows, elephants, chickens and more! My interactions and sightings have been mixed and surprising. Every night, no matter where I am, I live with biting red ants, hazardous mosquitoes and croaking lizards that are almost translucent. The other evening at the RC Sendivakkam school a frog became my roommate. During the day while the insects are resting the monkeys roam. Everywhere. India has many national parks and zoos, most of which are well kept and highly touristic. They have white tailed deer, bird sanctuaries, elephant rides and nice paths and greenery. The monkeys are altogether overpopulated and imposing on peoples' families and shops. They live in the temples, dangle from coconut trees, and swing onto your roof. They will swarm your front door in the afternoon hoping to steal your lunch. They will have sex on the side of the roads and inhabit the school children's hostels. They are worse than the stray dogs whose mange covered coats are red and irritated. The dogs fight each other and sometimes pose a hazard to bystanders. It is best to create a safe perimeter, like an attendee at a cockfight their snarls and barks give warning for ferocious bites and brutal scratches. Typically only using three legs their stamina and breeding habits mimics that of the local women. The female dogs are always pregnant, but I seldom see puppies. The first and only time I have seen camels was on the streets of Chennai, it was like a moment from 'Aladdin', multicolored blankets and fringed bridles decorated the 8 or 10 camels walking majestically down the road past a gas station. Families have cows, goats, buffaloes, chickens and children (this is a joke, but in reality they are unhygenically linked to the animals that live with them on their property and in their homes). While visiting one school a goat was placed in my lap and this being unusual for me I didn't touch the goat so it ran wildly through the classrooms. I then needed to be the goat herder and somehow with the help of 5 students managed to get the goat stabilized on a bench, though I still had to hold it. It was bleating and scared like the pre-school students arriving at school in the mornings, not wanting to leave their mothers arms. The cows roam the streets of the city and I spot them munching on brightly colored posters and looking for small grassy plots. Cow paddies are everywhere and half of the time walking you should be looking down for either a cow poo or a human one will pass you by. Driving more rurally, the brake inspectors as Pastor Peter Paul Thomas calls them will make sure your attentiveness and vehicle maneuvering are at their highest level. Sometimes they will be running, sometimes traveling in huge packs meandering as they wish impossible to pass until the herder pokes and prods them in the right direction. Unfortunately for one huge buffalo the car he was inspecting did not have good brakes and therefore he lost his life. This life specifically took up half of the road he was a mammoth! It's a dangerous job, but since he police are negligent responsibility get passed along. I saw an iguana like the one I used to have crawling on the ledge next to Preem's house. Preem is also a monkey intimidator and his dance with a broom handle is not to be taken lightly. If only my iguana would have found his way to India, I'm sure he would have been happier than enduring the torturous care I neglected to give him. As bothered I am by the insects constantly crawling on me or the hornets invading my bathrooms building their immaculate homes alongside a mirror, the locals don't take any notice, this is life and I'm working on adjusting. One thing all the animals share is their understanding of Tamil and rarely English, so there goes another barrier for my communication obstacles!

Doing so much when it seems like so little

As I write this in a revolutionary mindset (as usual) listening to the Flaming Lips on my Ipod, one of my small indulgences, I can literally watch the city of Chengelpattu changing around me. There are buildings sprouting up all through the Ranga Street Apartment neighborhood where workers make makeshift shacks and sleep on mats on top of trash littered streets. They cook here, brush their teeth here, and their toddlers yell at monkeys that attempt co-habitation. The economic stimulation is always mixing with the extreme poverty. How can one organization like Lead Forward have any hope when it is surrounded by an overwhelming despair? I can easily tell you how. From the first moment that a student of ours speaks to me in English and clearly understands my speech to the good marks and comparative conversations I have with priests at Christian schools these moments motivate and pulse with our LF students determination and motivation. I wish they could chant "We Will Overcome" in a rally down the streets of Chennai. From our one college student Tamilarsi calling herself black beauty to our new sixth standard student Nitiya Deeshika reading her own sponsors letter in English and seeing her clutch the 8.5x11 white paper with some indescribable compulsion. I am working with Phil to develop relationships between our students and the Lead Forward India leaders, the students don't yet understand which relationships are going to affect their future successes. Will it be those with their parents, sometimes inhibiting for guiding purposes, or those with their teachers who hopefully they will use as role models and keep in contact with them always, or is it the LF India leaders? It can be all three we can teach them through our LF India leader sand I am working to start that movement. The more motivation and support the better because though there is pressure from society there are students that slip through the cracks without motivation and given misguided support. Though there are always struggles and in India, corruption seems to rule over most of them like a monarchy, the memories and incidents that stick with me fortunately are the ones that will give Lead Forward the bright future we so desperately need and deserve. It is government exam time for our 10th and 12th Standard students, their test scores will directly determine their future. They will be eligible for scholarship and learning groups/levels based on their results. Wishing them the most focus and concentration and the least stress and distraction!

A full day

This morning waking up was almost impossible. I let the alarm on my cell phone play through twice then followed that with snoozing twice as well. When I reset the alarm time to 8:15 I knew I would be paranoid lying in bed waiting for Fr. Arockinatham to climb the stairs to my room and call for me to come down for breakfast. I pondered thinking to ask to eat late today, but what's the point of eating alone? As the thoughts meandered through my sleepy head my name was surely echoing in the stairwell and I was half tripping, half sleepwalking to the door. I hurried to get dressed and join the two priests caring for me at St. Joseph's Branch School where I have been staying since last Thursday. We ate breakfast chatting casually about my itinerary, theology thesis's, and hiring teachers. The dosai were crispy and fresh before they absorbed the coconut tomato chutney and sambar with big yellow dal. There were noodles flash fried with curry leaves, tomato, chili peppers and spices. Everything was churned in my stomach by a tea cup of coffee, something in size resembling the tea parties of my childhood, but being India it was white fine porcelain with blue tulips and lillies (they make many ceramics and porcelain here) and not a pink plastic set. The instant coffee powder combines with rock sugar and hot milk fills my cup dissolving the two as the tiny metal spoon revolves in circles. I arranged to go visit the Primary Matriculation School in the morning at 10:00 to see whose English skills were boss and what was really being taught in the classes. After eating I went back to sleep. I gathered all my energy to eat breakfast and make conversation just to lay back on my palm tree beach front printed polyester bed cover. Once again struggling with the alarm I rose with 10 minutes to get ready. Being 10 minutes late is like being early as I checked the clock and walked across the sunny campus to the Primary School. I attended 3 early learning classes (UKG, and LKG standards) and then took a break with the students playing tag, called lock and key here, in the playground. Private English schools have the funds for a playground. I raced with the students running so fast in a labryinth pattern across the sandy plot. My speed got ahead of my feet around the fifth child I tagged and before you knew it me and one boy student tumbled to the earth landing on our knees. I brushed myself off, looked at the hole in my jeans and proceeded to run after another victim. After the bell rang and I was feeling grimy with sand I realized I was not only sweating profusely, as playing tag in 90degree heat will do that to someone, but I was also bleeding. I drank about half a liter of water and excused myself to change and cool off. Sure enough I had a gorgeous battle wound on my left knee, but I returned shortly to see another UKG rhyming spectacular and 3rd standard science class. Lunch followed a short conversation about the government posting certain sexes to certain jobs and more explanation about why all the Primary School teachers are all women. We ate rice with greens, similar to a goulash of spinach and green beans, plantains fried in their vegetable state before they ripen to become a fruit, vadai which are fried donut shaped dough bits with onions, curry leaves and other surprises cooked inside, tomato chutney and sweet shredded beets. After the lunch I was dying to see the resource library which only the teachers have access to. It was a mildewed time warp into physics, English literature, India history, mathematics and more. I managed to borrow Krishnamurti The Impossible Question so I can become more of the philosopher since my mind tends to resort there naturally. "We never put the impossible question- we are always putting the question of what is possible. If you put an impossible question, your mind then has to find the answer in terms of the impossible not what is possible." Should be interesting. I watched a 10th std matriculation class English lesson have review for the government exam, smelled some righteous body odor and followed that with a short Q&A with some students. Before the day was over I attended a matriculation math lesson for 6th std. I graded and corrected the students graphs trying tune their ears to my accent. Both fathers and I reconvened over coffee and lassi's and then the homeopathy began. As the puss oozed from my lock and key wound I scratched my mosquito bites vigorously. Fr. Arul taught me his grandmothers homeopathic remedy for healing wounds by rolling the leaves of a pundu chapati plant in my hands I generously applied the extracted green juice from my calves to my toes. I sure looked authentic with hairy legs that were now green, mosquito bite relics, and a juicy wound adorning my knee. Laughing somehow inspired father to show me a magic trick using my bangle bracelets,. Now I can surely impress all the youngsters I meet in the future. I napped, wrote in my diary, ate dinner and took a bath before a last minute Hindu adventure began. Today is Shiva Maharatri, a devotion to Shiva in all his many forms. It is celebrated by staying up all night and of course dancing, lighting ghee in clay pots and eating. Around 10:00 we left on motorcycle to a temple close by, of course previously a secret to me. The temple had a festival going on for Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev who runs an Ashram in Coimbatore. There was streaming live video in English where Sadhguru enlightened the listeners with his philosophies. I ate sweet pongol and tomato rice from a betel tree plate... the most natural way! Then we went roaming the temple. There were so many people I was sweating and taking photos, holding my purse tightly as instructed, security guards and women passing me by purposely brushed up against me or stared unabashedly, gods were in statue or mural form all around me and the heat from the burning ghee turned my face red with the heat as I walked by. I was holding a 3rd graders hand for protection, trying to take in the frankincense filled dwelling. There were people picnicking, decorating statues with flowers, beggars calling out to me, gurus in orange looking important it was a sense engulfing maze. One temple led to another through a path past generators and chili peppers littering the floor, I was completely lost. We ended at the Baradanotiam dance event and the accordion pleated brightly colored rich silks were as culturally unique as the heavy make up outlining the lady dancers eyes, lips and brows. It was a feast for the eyes as the Karnata music played booming into the night.