Home Sweet Home

Many of you have commented that you haven't seen anymore on this Blog. Well, suffice to say I'm home and safe, and so sadly there will be more posts made on Jessica in Kerala, unless I switch it over to Jessica in St. Paul.

I've actually been home for one month now, and as expected to reverse culture shock is much worse. I've been having a somewhat difficult time adjusting to the pace and clutter of our lives. It makes me feel all discombobulated. Ha!

Anyway, the point is now you can talk to me in person about this, so if you'd like just let me know. Until then, keep kicking!

Love,
Jessica

Reflections

As I write this entry, I'm sitting on a breezy patio over looking the Arabian Sea. The sun is setting down into the ocean, and if one ever doubted the existence of God, the spectacular ray of blues, yellows, brilliant reds, fluorescent pinks, makes all believe. I'll be boarding the plane in five days to return home, back to the culture and people that share my traditions, foods, dress, and lifestyles. If I've had anything here in India it has been the opportunity to view and experience the true meaning of culture, both of another peoples and more acutely my own.

Currently air travel is in turmoil again. The India papers are reporting cases of whole planes full of people forcing others off because they were speaking in what sounded like Arabic languages, the creation of cultural warfare. And like has been many times through out the ages of humanity, we are falling prey into the hands of few who want of us to believe that it is our differences that separate us. It is our differences that makes of dangerous to each other. It is our differences of which we should be afraid. Yet, as I reflect on my three months here on the other side of the world from which I was raised, I find that it is precisely our differences that make the world such a beautiful place. It is our differences that make life brighter, more intelligent, gentler and more interesting. And it is our similarities that make us more human. No matter where you live, or what language you speak the laws of the universe and humanity speaks the same words. Mothers the world over speak the same words of desires, dreams, nurturing and struggles. Children share the same spark of brightness and wisdom in their eyes. A sweet child's caress on your cheek feels the same regardless. Women struggle with the same battles of dreams and obligations. Men's faces are still lined with the desire to assert their beautiful masculine selves, and break the same when beaten down over and over again.

This summer, because I stepped outside of my safety boundaries, I have been more aware the dichotomy of what both I and humanity are. I stood, sweating and overloaded in the dry desert seat as bus drivers refused to let me on the bus because of my race. I shed tears over parting with women of whom we share no words. I was forced to sit in separate sections of restraints and was refused to be taken seriously because of my gender. I broke bread and shared laughter and light with men whom never left their villages. I was placed on pedestals, and leered at. I experienced my own capacity for generosity and my own coldness as I turned away from beggars. I experienced my ability to be understanding and my ability to close my mind to my best ideals about people and the world. I experienced both the good and evil that exists in myself and others.

And perhaps that's one of my most potent messages of this summer spend away, the battle that we all face with good and evil. One of my favorite writers, Paulo Coelho, writes that we are all both good and evil, and that at in the end it is our choice of whom which we are. I believe that I have the capacity to be both good and evil, in not just my lifetime, but every day I am forced to make that choice. And sometimes I choose evil. Sometimes, letting the evil win is easier than doing the good. And sometimes I choose good, even when it's harder. Within lies both the sinner and the saint. When I look back I realize that my capacity to be evil is not based on opinions that people told me. It not based on what I am told are good actions, or bad actions. Not based on people who have told which people in the world are to be trusted and whom are to be placed the blame. In each circumstance I made my own decision on what to think and how to act. If I acted in generosity, it is because I choose to. If I acted in coldness, it is because I choose to. No blame or justification need to be placed on any other party.

When I reflect on what I had hoped to learn this summer, I don't think it was a lesson on the list. I had hoped to learn about India history and culture, challenges facing small human NGO's, techniques and strategies for working across cultural bounders, and of all these things I have learned a tremendous amount. And I also learned a lot about myself, and the capacity and limitations of good intentions, bad intentions, good and evil. Of how no one person is good and no one person is evil.

So when I strike out into the world to do "good" work. When development and human rights professionals run off to "save" the oppressed from the oppressor be sure your aware who the "supposed" enemy before you place blame, because it each situation you will be confronted with both what you think is right and what you think is wrong. You may find that the so called oppressor is doing the most he can in the bad situation he is placed. And you may find that those who are supposedly there to help, have damaging ulterior motives. Or you may find that people act good for all the wrong reasons, and act bad for all the good ones. Or that your own presence may be the most oppressing of them all.

At the end of the day, when the sun sets over the horizon, and the first stars twinkle in the day light, the only actions you're accountable for are your own, rather good or evil. And the good news here, is that regardless in all, the oppressed and the oppressor, the mother or the child, the American or the Asian, the man or the women good exists and that's what we're striving for her, and that is what makes it all so beautiful.

As all good things must...

My time here in India is about to come to an end. As I've not updated in the last couple of weeks I suppose you are all wondering what I have been up to.

We spent our last week in Rajakadd. Kim and I are mostly finished with the work, but there are a couple of things that we will finish up at home. My working expereince is filled with mixed emotions, there were many good things going on as well, and there were well, some not so good things that came to manisfest towards the end of our stay. It's was fasanating and heartbreaking to see so many of the things that read or learn about in school about NGO's and their situations in developing countries come to manifest. It's also, amazing to expereince these things first hand and realize not only the hurtles honest organization have to overcome, but all of the millions of people who are reliant upon institutions that do not have their best interest in guard.

Saying goodbye to our neighbors was difficult. The last few weeks we had become very close with both the women and the children, and Mikes arrival also brought a new excitement in everyone. The last few weeks we had spent quite a bit if time with the children and both families kept us in generous barrage of home cooked Indian food. The last few days were filled with meals and more meals, family photos. The final goodbye was very very difficult and both Kim and I found ourselves drenched in tears, as we made our good bye hugs and clammered into the rickshaw to the bus station. Our neighbor women friends, Sini and Anila, were also in tears. Our special neighor kids, Gothum and Nandala had to be taken in to the house they were in such a mess. We went to the bus stand, and right before our house our neighbor Sini's husband had walked into town to say goodbye again, and made it right before the bus left. The bus goes back past our house and Kim and I anxiouslly waited for the bus to go by so we could wave out the window at the neighbors. Kim and I were seperated on the bus and I was near the front. Just as we were going to get to the house it started down pouring and the windows were jammed shut moments before the house. (The windows are big metal sheets.) I could just see Ms. Humsa standing lonely on her porch waiting for us to go by (which was fitting as she had often been there before), she couldn't see us though and that set me into another fit of tears that lasted about and hour as we drove out f this beautiful valley the last time.

We've been on the road for over a week now, and decided to head east into Tamil Nadu as opposed to the oginal plan to go north because of the monsoon. We went to Chennai (Madras), Mallapuram, Pondicherry, Tranvajore, Trichy and now find ourselves in Maduri. It's hot, in the 90's, dry and dusty everywhere we go. It makes us sadly miss the coolness and lushness of the mountains and most certianly the kindness of the people.

Three Weeks to Go

Well, I'm currenlty in Mumbai awaiting Mikes arrival later tonight. I flew in early this morning and unfortuntatly the rains have kept me hotel bound all day. The rains in Mumbai and the accompanying state Maharashta have been heavier than normanal and the flooding going on has been rather severe. There have been quite a few deaths from capsized boats, overflowing rivers and ineffectual dams. Further inland in some areas they are evacuating people by the thousands.

Many of the streets are water logged here, as I was coming from the airport this morning people were tromping around in water that reached almost to your knees. The airport are is largely slums and weathly distracts mingled together. There was a whole community that I passed where people lived in tarp tents on the medium of the road, luckily they were not flooded out when I passed. The heavy rains are expected to continue for the next 48 hours. Mike and I are supposed to catch a train out tommorrow so we will hope that the train is running. I say on T.V. that the station was waterlogged, but that many of the long distance trains were still running.
When we get on the train we have a 27 hour trip on which to look forward.

I only have one week left of work, and can say that I feel that we accomplished a fair amount. Not all that we have wanted, but isn't that always the case. The last two days the org wanted us to visit some areas farter away from where we are so we went and visited with another self help group. This group was amazing and had taken in upon themselves to confront the drunkards in the village to get them help. They also were taking in and assisting women who were expereining dowry troubles. Here in India the dowry system is in full effect. Before the wedding the families arrange a price and if the brides family doesn't follow through, or the grooms family changes their mind, the bride is suffered great injustice and abuse. In the north, and I've seen women in the south, in may be as severe to through acid on the bride, or sometimes kill in order to get a new bride. Similary the same applys if the women is unable to produce a son. In fact more so in the north, (in fact Kerala is the only state in India with out this problem), the male:female ration is steadily declining. In some parts its as low as 800 females to 1000 males (in unaffected fertily there should be slighly more women.) Many are projected in the, albeit illeaga, increase in sex-slective abortions. Unfortunalty though, a women is worth nothing the family is she doesn't produce a son.

After meeting the SHG group we traveled and spent the night with a father and visited a school in the morning. There were 290 children clammering around. Later in the afternoon we visisted an boarding school for the poorest children in the area, run by a kind family. The funding has run out and so they are scraping by the run the only English medium available for poor children. It was heartbreaking to see the reality of school rooms with only benches, two to three classes of children and only a chalkboard. No toys, no posters, no crayons, no scissors, no construction paper, no computers. The children slept in crammed, dark rooms in an unfinished building. Amazingly though it was situated on what must me the most bueatiful piece of property I'd ever seen. High, high, high up on the Mountain top, overlooking the most lush and stunnng tropical river vally. So high you were in the clouds.

It was a great two days.

The trip in review a la Kim

Warning: 12 Pages, read when time or in segmants!
For you reading pleasure this week, I offer you segments of Kim’s e-mails sent to family and friends. She writes in better detail about our trip and so I thought you might enjoy it. Since this one entry is comprised of the last two months, it’s rather long and so may want to read when you have time. A big thanks to Kim for sharing this with me!! Kim is the greatest traveling companion ever!


June 1-17th
Hello one and all!
So things are going well here. It is a little overwhelming but I am beginning to get in the pace of things. The trip started with missed planes, bad weather and lost luggage but eventually Jessica (the woman I will be working with for the summer) and I got it all together and began our adventure. We even got to spend a day checking out London as we had a 9-hour layover there. We checked out the appropriate squares (Trafalgar, Leicester) and the circus of Piccadilly. Even did the proper pub lunch with Guinness before heading back to the plane and another day of travel. After 40 or so hours and no sleep for three days we arrived in Cochin, India. We were greeted by Mr. Mohanan, the director of the NGO we are to be working for this summer. We are sleep deprived, grimy and lacking the necessary communication skills to complete pleasantries, oh well they don't really speak all that much English anyway. This will be an interesting summer and one that will definitely teach us much in the way of patience. We drive around in jeep for about three hours trying to find the hotel we arranged only to realize they are in the wrong part of town, it is like being in Minneapolis looking for something in St. Paul. Finally we suggest they just bring us to a hotel near where we are, which leads to a round of checking hotels that are apparently not "appropriate" for the ladies, don't they know yet that we aren't ladies? Finally checked into a fancy hotel on the main road with ac and cable TV. Ah, delightful shower and sleep for about 14 hours.
So, first a few words about Cochin. Much like any Indian city, it is congested with thousands of horns honking constantly; the rickshaws and motorcycles compete for space with trucks, jeeps and buses. Interestingly in the four short years since I was here last, bicycles seemed to have disappeared from the roads. It is now all motorbikes that make the noise and pollution levels even worse that last time. Also it seems to be dirtier, more trash covering the streets and sidewalks that I remember. The open sewers are filled with plastic bags and trash, stopping the flow of water and concentrating the smells of the fetid garbage everywhere. This could just be culture shock, but truly, I think it is worse. The usual smell of urine (men pee wherever) mingled with curry from the restaurants and the occasional hints of incense and jasmine flowers assaults and triggers memories of the last trip here, stories and experiences I had forgotten come flowing back. It is incredibly odd to be in this random city in India again. Not something I had ever expected would happen.
We end up spending 4 days in Cochin trying to sort out Jessica's luggage, she makes multiple calls daily and each time is given new phone numbers to try and different people to take to. We do the usual tourist stuff, an aurevedic message where by you are greased up like a baby seal and lightly rubbed down followed by a steam bath (is that really necessary in India) for the bargain basement price of roughly $6. We go to a Kathakali dance show that is mostly for tourists, so they explain all in English. Interestingly, I think it is the same theatre I went to last time- again trippy. Continuing in the tourist vein we do the backwater boat tour, 2.5 hours on a pole pushed boat with Indian tourists in plastic patio furniture floating around some small rivers and mini lakes of the backwater area. Wandered around the much quieter and calmer Fort Cochin, which is a nearby island. Again this area seems to be dirtier with more plastic bags and piles of garbage everywhere. Also quite a few dead crows near the garbage piles, at least the trash is good for something. Not very Buddhist of me I know, but they did crap on me. Anyway, Cochin is not all the exciting, especially the second time around.
Mostly we wander the streets waiting and hoping for the eminent arrival of the luggage. In the mean time we manage to visit a variety of Indian sweet shops with their staggering array of sweets and pastries in all sizes shapes and colors. Some of them are so sweet they make your teeth hurt, like the little doughnut balls, deep-fried and served in a pool of sugar water. Really, they can't be good for you. Also we go on a quest for a beer only to realize that Kerala is dry state and only a few places sell liquor that we could go to. The bars are creepy and dark affairs filled with men of course. We track down a tourist hotel and furtively I ask if they sell beer, which sends Jessica into a fit of giggles. We feel as if we are about 16 and trying to get beer with a fake id.
The constant harassment by the men here has obviously not changed. Kerala is a culture where the women don’t go out often without male escort and especially don’t go out at night, so if you find yourself out after dark it, is groups of men hanging around and stopping to blatantly stare as you pass by. Even though I didn't forget how much the men leer here, especially at the western women, it is still a bit hard to take. I have to keep reminding myself I asked to be here, sometimes what you want and what you get may be the same but you realize maybe you didn't want it after all.
Jessica finally gets her luggage Sunday night and we make arrangements with Mohanan to meet in Munnar on Monday. Trying to get a straight answer out of him is like pulling teeth. I don't know if he wants to meet us in Cochin or if we should make our own way to Munnar and meet him there. I have a hard time understanding him and our conversations to date are very frustrating. I truly hope this is not a sigh of the summer to come. The day ended when I tried to charge my ipod and short out the battery. So much for having music this summer.
Off to the deluxe taxi up to Munnar. It is about a 4½-hour journey through beautiful hill country. The scenery is breathtaking, waterfalls, palm trees, giant hibiscus bushes and millions of other varieties of flowers. At one point we spot a family of monkeys traipsing across the road. It is still exciting even though I have experienced so much of this before. It is hard not to share all my traveling stories with Jessica. Suddenly they are all so fresh in my mind again. Things I hadn't thought of, or had forgotten all keep come flooding back. I don't want to be one of those annoying travelers that is like 'when I was in blah da blah' all the time, so I try to keep my past stories to Jessica to a minimum so she can experience it all herself, without my views coloring it. Otherwise, I will begin to seem like a has-been high school jock, reliving his glory days and not progressing to the here and now.
While waiting in Munnar for Mohanan to take us to Rajakkadu, our final destination after a week of travel. We take ajeep from Munnar and asks us if we can afford it. His use of the English language is sometimes confusing, I am not sure if he means we need to pay for it or if we can afford the time, the lack of comfort or what. We are forced to sit in the front, which is a privilege, as the back tends to fill with gas fumes. But sometimes I would prefer not to be in the front as it is a bit nerve racking. The roads, as mentioned, are narrow, curving and now covered in mist. It is impossible to see a few feet in front of the jeep. Jessica has the door seat, which means open space with an armrest pulled down to keep you in the jeep. Some of the curves look like we are going to slide right off the road. My stomach is doing somersaults every few minutes as I can't see the road and feel like we might hurtle off into the abyss, combined with the lack of horn use in the fog. The one time I would be grateful for the horns and they don't use them, I don’t know if the mist throws off the sound or what, but suddenly there will be car right baring down and the maneuvering that goes on would be impressive if I weren't feeling like I was on an old carney/fair ride that could snap at any moment. Between Munnar and Rajakkadu are a variety of small tows consisting of a main street and rows of small shops/stalls that all seem to sell the same things; small packets of shampoo, chips, dish soap etc. hang in strips from the front of the store with the same soaps, snacks, sweets, notebooks, and other hodgepodge items that all the other stores are selling, like a old drugstore crammed into a 5 foot by 5 foot space. You don’t get to go in the shops but stand on the other side of the counter and try and figure out what you need or try and communicate to the non-English speaker working.
Rajakkadu is a slightly bigger town with a hospital, huge Catholic church on the hill overlooking the town, side streets and multiple shops selling pretty much everything and all the same things. We get to our super fancy house just past town nestled in a veritable tropical paradise. The four story house is built into the hillside overlooking rice paddies and between various mango, guava, passion fruit trees, vines of fresh pepper and cardamom, pineapple plants and of course coconut trees. I am sure there is more but that is what we have figured so far. Our apartment is on the second level with pepper vines in the courtyard. We have two bedrooms, a big living room and kitchen a 'porch'-term is to be used loosely, it is a four by four caged in space off the kitchen. Handy for keeping fresh food and not much else. The place is much nicer than I thought it would be. We will get quite a bit of stuff together over the next few weeks to make it functional but that is just fine. It is so nice to have a kitchen to be able to make our own food and coffee. Mohanan did offer to hire us a servant to do the cooking cleaning and all, but we would rather do ourselves.
The first week goes by in a blur or work, shopping, adjusting, and creating much commotion in the town. Apparently we are the first westerners to hang out here besides the brief visit by our professor Helzi five or six years ago. What are those white girls doing here, why are they cooking for themselves, why are they buying mats, a table, cooking supplies, why are they still here? Now that we have been here almost two weeks the staring is getting less, but still every time we go into town there is a commotion at any shop we enter. We have decided that we are good for business, when we are in the shop and suddenly this is the most popular place to be.

Our every move is tracked in town. Mohanan knows where we shop, what we buy, when we eat. The first few days we are here whenever we venture into town on our own, Mohanan is alerted and tracks us down to make sure we are ok. Again his use of English is entertaining, one night he finds us out shopping and after some discussion he says 'I can go now?' Well we didn't ask you, we are fine without you, you showed up and now you seem bothered by us. Yes please go. Anyway it is all very entertaining, I am sure he feels responsible for us and wants to make sure we are a-ok. And the first night we stay out after dark (6:30 or so) by ourselves we are followed home all the way to our house by the creepy men saying we should come to their house. They have the gall to stop at the gate to the house and talk to the house owner's wife, while it is clear we want nothing to do with them. So now we make it a point to home before dark, which does constrain our movements quite a bit.
Most nights I am in bed right at ten and I wake up by 7-7:30. More due to the next-door neighbors kids and crows than anything else. All the neighbors have been very kind and friendly, the landlords family brings us fruit almost daily and even invites us up to have fresh coconut on their actual porch overlooking the spectacular scenery of the hills and fields. The kids are entertained by our poor renderings of patty-cake and hi-5's and any other childhood games/songs we can remember. I will say the two fathers (neighbors) we are getting to know might just restore my faith in Indian men, as will a couple of the office guys. They are kind and good men who are generous and make a sincere effort to communicate with us, not creepy at all.
The first day at work Mohanan has a variety of volunteers, activists, staff, board, and others who work the organization is various capacities to meet us and see our work presentation. So we were thinking it would be a slow process to start work, but no he wants to jump right in. We really aren't prepared for this but we bowl ahead and try to pull some kind of presentation out for them. This is a frustrating process with him and I fear that is not going to change this summer. But ultimately we start to get some good information from him and are starting to get a better understanding of HPDWS. There are ambitious in their programming considering they only have 3 paid staff. I admire their spirit but wonder if they aren't extending themselves a little too far. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the task at hand, I feel completely ill prepared for what all we are to do here. This is a true test of whether I will want to continue in this field. I do think that the first week made me question whether this is what I want to do, but now that I settled into it, I think I could make this my life, but who knows what will happen. We have attended a few self-help group meetings (SHG) that are overwhelming. These women are plantation laborers, coolies (day/casual laborers) and some teachers that want simple things like a strong door, education for their kids, a concrete house that wont get washed away in the rain and some more freedoms for women. They are smart and aware and constrained by both society and the economics of Kerala. The opportunities for them are extremely limited. One group was saying how they walk 2 hrs (each way) a day for work and then work 8-9 hours in the fields, followed by the fact that they are responsible for the home, cooking, washing etc. And yet they manage to meet once a week to discuss with other women their ideas, hopes, dreams, politics, health issues and want to bring awareness to their community about such things as dengue fever and women's health issues. I feel overwhelmed and hopeless sometimes. I wonder how I am supposed to help these women? Their issues are so beyond huge. The tea plantation laborers are even worse. They are compelled to work 7 days a week, minimum of 26 days a month or they don't get the bonus for picking extra tea. Even if it is raining- not just some simple shower, but sheets of rain making work impossible to work- they can loose their bonus for the month. So work you ass off, pick more than the minimum 16 kilos a day, to hopefully get a little bit more at the end of the month, so maybe you can educate your kids and then it rains, or you get sick and there goes your bonus. Guess who benefits from this system? And the tea companies say it is out of their hands as the unions negotiate these contracts, but the union leaders are in the pockets of the Tea estates and they get bribes to keep it that way. Their only recourse is the government inspectors who also get bribed by the tea plantation managers. So basically screwed 7 ways from Sunday.
The people working and volunteering for and with HPDWS are a very amazing bunch. One man is a manager at TATA tea. We wonder that he doesn't get in more trouble for the work he is doing with the laborers. We went to back to Munnar yesterday to meet him and see the factories as well as meet some laborers. First we were ushered into the head Managers office, some young kid who clearly got his job through connections from family or some such. He grills us on what we are doing, who is paying and what we want from him. Mr. Jagdish (good guy manger) tells us later that had he told them in advance we wouldn't have been able to meet the workers. Also another manager from Kenan Devan (a partially worker owned TATA plantation) was told he couldn't speak with us. So despite the corporations being 'controlled' by the unions and doing the best they can they are still afraid to talk to us, or afraid of us getting to much information.
So there are the first few weeks. I am sure I have forgotten much. Mostly it has been good, quite a bit of adjusting and getting settled. Supplying a house is more work that I thought, and then keeping up with laundry, cooking, cleaning etc is hard without any modern conveniences. I do love that it took us 2 days, three shopping trips and close to 1000 rupees to make a 5 rs cup of coffee. You know, like master card, 500 rs stove, 50 rs pot, 40 rs cup, 10 rs spoon, 40 rs for Nescafe, and 10 rs for powdered milk, making your own cup of coffee priceless…. We did discover real milk today and our last week trip to Munnar we found real coffee. We head back to town to get the bus. We find the right bus only to discover it doesn't leave for over an hour, so we decide to check out jeep prices. The bus conductor gets involved and tries to load us into a shared jeep full of creepy men for 400 rs each. Just a mere 100 rs for the ticket and 300 rs for what he keeps calling 'no ticket'. So here's what I think, it was 100 rs for the shared ride and only a mere 300 rs for the pleasure of having the conductor rip us off. We bail to the other side of stand and different jeep stand and negotiate a ride in a private car for both of us for only 350 rs. More than the bus, less than the rip off, and much more pleasant than both. We give the rum a try when we get home only to discover it truly is undrinkable. So 5 hours of travel for a simple drink to no avail. Someone send me something!!! Well that brings me back to Saturday the 17th. We are heading off for a few days to the national park to hopefully see some elephants!

I
June 17th-July 17th
Another month gone by and what have I done with myself? Well beyond working of course, we have done a few excursions to check out the near by and not so nearby areas. We have discovered many things about traveling in India, some I forgot some I didn't know. First off, every journey takes us at least four forms of transport and minimum 8 hours. Of course if it is to be an 8-hour journey it will take us 12-18 hours. The average bus traveling speed is about 10-15 miles an hour, despite the breakneck speed traveled at, the buses stop frequently to pick up passengers. While it is convenient not to have to go to a bus stop/station it severely slows the traveling speed. We do wonder about the buses with signs that say "limited stop" or "super fast". The limited stop buses will stop every 10-15 feet, if need be, to pick up passengers, maybe limited means how quickly they stop. Your foot barely hits the bottom step and off they go. The super fast don't appear to go any faster than the other death defying buses. How much faster can you hurtle down a mountain? The buses do not have windows so if it rains either a tarp is dropped down the side of the bus or there are steel shutters in the windows that can be pulled down for protection. The buses can hold an amazing amount of people, just when you thought no more could fit, another few will get on, yes a 15 person passenger van can hold 40 or more people. If you are lucky enough to get a seat those standing will put their parcels in your lap, only seems fair. Delightfully no matter where we are someone will attempt to assist us in getting where we want to be, even if they have no idea what we are saying, they will point in a direction that seems appropriate. Anyway on to the excursions.

The first trip was to the Periyar national park and tiger preserve hoping to see elephants, tigers and monkeys, oh my. Instead we saw tiger poo, elephant poo and wild pigs.
To get there we took a hair-raising bus through Poopara to Munnar knowing that you can get buses to the park from there. We forgot to ask if we could just get a direct bus from Poopara. So after 3 hour journey to Munnar, we then hop the bus to Kumilly (where the park is) only to discover we have to back through Poopara to get to the park. The trip to Poopara is even more hair-raising as the bus plays chicken with a truck; stopping on an edge of this precipice fighting over has to back up. Our driver finally concedes that he will back up, only there is a cliff to our left and he appears to backing up over it. Looking out the window we realize there is about 6" of available space before plunging to ultimate death. On the bus is the bell-ringing boy whose job is to ring the bell for stops and starts and we now realize his other job is to ring frantically when the driver is about to go over. I love the fact that it takes three people to run the bus, driver, bell ringer and money collector. But when you have a billion people labor is cheap. So anyway, not only did we take about a five-six hour detour, face the potential of death by cliff, but there is an old man at the Poopara bus stand that has become our bus changing guy, so he clearly knows who we are (white girls tend to stand out), upon arrival he spots us and obviously makes it clear to all our brilliant error. After all is said and done it was an adventure. The bus to from Poopara to Kumilly is a smaller bus so the driver seems to think that means hurtling down the winding roads and barreling around each curve, rarely slowing down other than to pick up passengers. Oh, the joys of buses in India. We finally arrive in Kumilly after about 9 hours and wander in search of a place to sleep and maybe, just maybe a beer!

Despite not seeing elephants, we did get to see black monkeys flinging through the trees, a zillion different birds, some wild bison and pigs as well as these crazy foghorn like sounding deer. Also a nice hike in the jungle and some bamboo rafting on the man made lake with barren tree trunks sticking out all over like some kind of post Noah flood waters. Later in town we did get eyeballed by some large wild boars on the street and again on the narrow dirt path to our guesthouse one night. While pigs may seem innocuous, when they are large, bristly and with tusks they become a little more intimidating. The lodge we stayed in was right on the edge of the park and it is not uncommon for the boars to come into town scavenging, good thing we paid $20 to treck around for what we could see outside on the street! Still amazing to sit on our balcony in the pitch black darkness and hear all the noises from the park. It is a symphony of frogs, cicadas, crickets and later owls, birds, the 'foghorn' deer, roosters and fighting dogs. It is cool to think that wild elephants and tigers are so close by even if we can't see them.

Anyway, back to Rajakkad, and surprisingly I am glad to be going back. I am not up to the constant harassment by the shopkeepers and touts; while we do get stared at and asked our names constantly in Rajakkad it is different and not necessarily unpleasant. In Rajakkad the people are just curious and friendly, we are something new and they want to check out why we are there and why we are still there. Anyway, getting the bus there is always a challenge, as the bus conductors do not believe that we want to go there. We say Rajakkad they say Munnar (tourist spot close by), then it turns into Rajakkad. Rajakkad? Rajakkad. Rajakkad? Rajakkad. Munnar? No Rajakkad. Rajakkad? Rajakkad. Yes Rajakkad. Oh RaJAkkad!

Over the next couple weeks we do accomplish some work and I am beginning to feel like we might actually be having an impact. We had an amazing workshop for about 45 people doing some "cardstorming" (a non-profit participatory technique to get people thinking about issues in different ways) with leaders of the community and other NGO's. It is exciting as in the west people have been doing this in non-profits for a long time and no longer get as involved in the discussion. Here it turns into excited discussions about the issues in their communities and potential causes and consequences. Everyone is really into it and some wish they had longer to discuss the issues raised. It is wonderful to see their enthusiasm for trying to effect changes in their communities, Many ask for my advice, little do they know how completely clueless I am mostly. It seems that the works they are doing are all exactly what they should be doing. Such interesting and amazing people in such a tiny little corner of the world give you hope that maybe one day things will change for these people. If this many committed and dedicated people are here in Idukki then think how many are elsewhere and everywhere. Many invited us to come visit them in various schools, NGO's and villages. If we visited them all we would never get any work done.

After a few weeks of work, time for another excursion. Actually we leave with the intention of getting work done in a bigger city, Bangalore, the IT capital of India. I guess we didn’t factor in that it was also the shopping capital of India. Anyway, another day spent traveling, the 5-hour bus to Cochin followed by the 14-hour train to Bangalore. I forgot how much I enjoyed the trains. The chia wallas walk through the trains constantly calling chiaya, chiaya, from whom you can get a 5 rs (10 cent) cup of milky sweet tea. Followed by the coppee, coppee sellers. I like that when they see us they stop and say tea or coffee just incase we don’t know. Throughout the train people get on and off selling drinks and curries with chapatti or parotha (delicious flakey bread, kind of like a layered tortilla that pulls apart) wrapped in banana leaves, or deep-fried banana fritters among other things. While the trains do go slower than the buses, the ride is much more pleasant with people to cater to just about your every food need. If you get bored you can go stand in the open doorways (safety risks and OSHA are not an issue here) and watch all the little towns that line the tracks go by. The gentle rhythm of the train rocks you to sleep at night while the drone of the fans minimizes the loudness of the train whistle and the wheels on the tracks.

We arrive in Bangalore armed with the knowledge that the rickshaws meters use is enforced here. Excited that we don’t have to haggle over price we innocently venture out to get a ride to town. After arguing with 5 or 6 drivers about using the meter and being told it is not possible we finally give up and haggle the price down. I am certain we are paying double fare but after a day of travel the fight leaves you. Bangalore is the most western of Indian cites with shopping malls and all. We decide to spend the first day chilling as we can work the next two. We wander though a few malls, buy a couple things and venture to the overwhelming and chaotic old city with the tiny stores crammed with a zillion things. The day ends in a "pub" watching the English loose to Portugal in the world cup. A lot of expats here considerably upset. Probably even more upset by the 11pm closing time than anything else. The next day we really did intend to get lots of work done- researching on the internet- but unfortunately there is a freak power outage for the better part of the day and we are forced to spend the day shopping. Budgets be damned! We find an amazing street that sucks us in for about 4 hours and spits us out after dark just as we are getting into the shopping groove. This behavior must be stopped. Alas, we have to leave the following evening as we already booked train tickets so we manage to get a bit of work that night and the next day before heading off to Varkala for some clearly needed beach time. We have worked awfully hard the past few days!

Well I think I will leave you there with baited breath I am certain to here about the next leg of our journey! I have attached some photos for your perusal!
Kim

Ok so I forgot a couple things for you to ponder 1) why are there millions of crows in India? These evil evil birds are everywhere, hopping around you , appearing suddenly before you, caw caw cawing all the time, I long for a rooster. 2) Why does every hotel, home, guesthouse etc have 20-30 odd light switches of which on average about ¼ work? Our last hotel had about 40 light switches only 4 worked. 3) Why are all the palm trees in India numbered? And one important tip; plastic bags make lovely rain hats, just secure the handles over your ears and your good to go.

July 17th-August 1st

So I left you all at the threshold of Varkala, ah sweet sweet Varkala, beautiful ocean side touristy town atop sweeping black rock cliffs (what else are cliffs made of?) with the swell of the sea pounding them. Mostly it is closed for the season so it is extremely mellow and so quiet, especially after the constant drone horns of Bangalore. The beach is mostly non-existent as the tide is very high from the monsoons. Fortunately, we manage to get a couple sunny days to spend on the little bit of beach that does exist. For the record, we are not in swimsuits, just nice to put your feet in the water and feel the spray of the water. One end of the cliffs you can drive to, so it is dominated by tourists, both Indian and western, hanging around, the other end is a fishing village that has been deserted for the season so it is very peaceful. The sand is all black here, which, from what I read, changes color with the seasons from black to your basic 'sand' color. The only thing that detracts from the experience is all the trash that is collecting the rocks at the base of the cliff, I am uncertain if people just throw their trash over top or if it is washing in. My guess is the first one. Anyway, we did intend to get some work done here and manage to put in a grueling four or 5 hours one day….where does the time go I wonder? Although we did realize that even the smallest of tasks takes hours longer than you think. A phone call takes upwards of an hour, just to get to the phone, make the call and get back, meals take an hour or more as after you order they have to get on their bikes and ride to the store to get your requested food before cooking it. Anyway, after not enough time here and not nearly enough work done we are off to meet our professor and yet another hellish bus ride back to Rajakkad. Helzi (professor) is one hour south in Kovalam, another tourist town, and she has decided to come to our area with four other students and an NGO she works with. What seems like simply a free ride turns into yet another long and arduous trip back. Basically it comes down to in an effort to save 3 dollars we embark on the worst bus rides and mere 18 hours for what would have taken us about 9 had we gone on our own. The roads are not much better than driving through the middle of a construction zone. The bus not being standard has no poles to cling to, so staying on your seat is a challenge in itself, the driver hasn't slept in about 24 hours so he is driving like mad and careening all over before someone points out we may need to stop get the man some coffee or tea. Ultimately, they are going to the nearby tourist town of Munnar first, so we decide to hop off and get a local bus the rest of the way home. In essence we have taken a taxi to the train in Varkala, a train to Trivandrum then a rickshaw to the bus stand to catch the bus to Kovalam, a rickshaw to Helzi's hotel then onto a smaller bus for the trip up, followed by another bus to Rajakkad and finally a rickshaw home. Yup, just a mere 8 forms of transportation and 18 hours later we are home! On the plus side, on the train ride we stood in the open door of the carriage, which is exhilarating. Safety precautions are not necessarily up the west's' standards, which can be a benefit when you get to watch the world go by in the open doorway of a train car, palm trees sprouting out of the sand, lush green rice paddies, oxen, cattle and goats grazing, small shops almost on the tracks, men, women and children watching the trains go by, sometimes waving, sometimes not, the crossroads with piles of motorbikes and rickshaws waiting and watching, the palm fronded houses, the winding rivers and lakes of the Kerala backwater areas and on and on.
Now the highlight of the next few days is the reception we get in and around town. Remember we have been gone a little over a week (2 days to be exact). As we are walk in to work, the little girl who plays in the offices screams, literally shrieking for joy at the sight of us. Later, on the walk home, other children who we say daily, come running out of their houses and begin jumping up and down and yelling "HELLO! HI! HELLO!" over and over again. In town the shop keepers ask where we were and seem truly happy to see us, granted our disposable income may have something to do with it, but I prefer to think that they missed us, they really really missed us (ok bad sally field reference). So, the point of my telling you this is that upon my return I want shrieks of joy and jumping up and down with excitement at my return!
After a whirlwind trip up the mountain to Rajakkad, we head back down to Kovalam to work with our professor as she decides to only stay in the hills about 24 hours. So glad we raced across the country (ok not really across but it took a long time, probably was only about 200 kilometers) to meet up with her only to end up back where we initially met her. At least I don’t get carsick. The ride back down ends up being a route we haven't taken before that is absolutely stunning, I don’t know if I have said it before, but the beauty here never seems to stop be amazing. Every time we go anywhere I notice something new and more beautiful, on this trip, we are on a narrow single lane road with sheer cliff walls to one side and a plunging drop to death on the other side. Wow is all I can say. Passing the rocky rivers, verdant lush green landscapes, a zillion flowers, hibiscus in colors ranging from pale orange to vibrant reds, cream with reds and oranges, hot pink and brilliant white. Violet morning glories blanket everything, tiny little pink orange yellow flowers, crazy spiny fuchsia and on and on. Passing over rivers and waterfalls through the hills never gets boring. The driver did swerve a bit hard at one point and I manage to launch the woman next to me out of her seat, Yup I'm an idiot.
Anyway, we do manage to get quite a bit if research done in Kovalam and manage to even take the limited sights that are there. Basically, Kovalam is two half moon beach that meet at the tips with cliffs on either end. On one side is lighthouse that for a whopping 10 cents you can climb to the top. A zillion winding stairs up and then have to climb the metal ladder to the top. The view was amazing over the bays and the ocean. Hawks circling and the waves crashing below. When you see the beach from this angle, while it does look built up the layers of palm trees look incredibly dense and makes it seem a lot less developed. Another big wow.Past the lighthouse is a chaotic and rather depressing fishing village. The village was dirty and crowded mud and tin shacks with barefoot kids running around, in and out of the lanes. Across the road from the village are the cliffs looking out over the sea. Unfortunately, they were covered in rotting trash, despite the wind from the ocean the smell is still overpowering. On one side of the cliff, the relatively wealthy western tourists (me) spend loads of money. On the other side, people live in abject poverty. Little kids were standing barefoot and practically naked on the trash peeing on their feet. It is so sad to se that and shockingly I wasn't really even seeing it clearly until Jessica pointed it out. It is frightening to realize that you have become somewhat immune to these scenes, as it is just the way it is in so many areas. The harbor was unbelievably crowded with all the multi colored boats zooming in and out. I wonder how they decide who gets to go fishing at what times? Interestingly the Muslim and Hindu sides are clearly split by a concrete division of what appears to be a covered market area like the farmers market, but with only one stall. Two young boys talked to us and told us that the Hindus were on the other side of the bay and the Muslims this side. The curve of the bay is flanked by a mosque and a Hindu temple. As we walked, we were harassed by kids yelling "pen", "chocolate" and "rupee". The Asian children's chant of school pen, chocolate etc is everywhere you go that tourist have been. Clearly, some well meaning tourist somewhere thought it would be (and is was) a good idea to give children pens for school. Unfortunately, it has been turned into a chant by all kids old enough to talk. My new trick of saying 'rupee yes, you give me" did not go over well as some kids threw rocks at us. But how can you blame them or be angry, here's the rich tourists tromping over from their prohibitively expensive beach paradise to look at the village and people like some kind of museum or zoo exhibit.
Surreal to see the two sides of wealth so close together yet so clearly divided. Despite the fact that I am obviously a part of one side, yet supposedly wanting to do something for the other, I still couldn’t wait to get back to the safety of "my" side.
And what waits on my side? About a zillion touts trying to get some of that big money I apparently posses. There are the taxi drivers, rickshaw drivers, the guy with sign that indicates he fixes bag, shoes and suitcases, various guys walking up and down the beach trying to sell what they can carry including wrap skirts, giant maps, cigarettes, postcards, bed covers, pants, blouses even a shady weed seller in the dark sunglasses and wind breaker on the wall. We think he was the conspicuously trying to be inconspicuous police. Then there are the restaurants and actual store trying to get you to come in, have breakfast, tea, lunch, something anything, just look you don't have to buy…. Of course, I cannot forget the scary fruit ladies. They are haggard older women with red stained teeth from chewing bettle nut (local stimulant) with giant machetes and a basket of fruit in their heads. They are aggressive in trying to get you to buy fruit with their bright red mouths, a really frightening lot. Apparently, other students who are staying in Kovalam made a deal with one seller at the beginning of the summer, she disappeared a few days later (the seller, not the student). After which all the other fruit ladies taunted the students with "your friend isn't coming back" what did they do, take her out because she made a deal with tourists?
Anyway, after a 5 days, we have had enough of the constant harassment by the shopkeepers et all and head back to our minor celebrity status in Rajakkad. The journey back has some interesting moments, then again, what journey in India doesn't? Sometimes I feel like traveling is really about the journeys (not to sound cliché) and the monuments, palaces, temples, sights etc are just a break or interruption of the real point; which is to see how much you can endure and learn to appreciate during the getting there and away! So anyway, the morning we are to leave we get up at the crack of dawn, but are running late and decide to take a rickshaw to the train station rather than wait for the local bus. For the first time in India, I get a ride with a cautious rickshaw driver. Mostly, the rickshaws zip crazily around on their three wheels, weaving in and out of traffic, going head on with trucks, cars, buses and other rickshaws only to swerve out of the way with less than inches to spare. So here we are, late and needing to catch a train, and we get the rickshaw in the slow lane. It is actually refreshing to have a driver take his time; signal turns and wait for traffic to pass before crossing the road. Of course, we made it safe and sound with minutes to spare.
The train ride itself is yet another interesting moment or two. I have forgotten how specifically the trains between towns work, so we get general tickets and I figure that means find a seat that is open and take it until someone with the ticket comes along. Well I was mistaken. About half way through the journey the conductors get on and tell us we have to move to the back of the train about 10-15 cars away we haul our bags and selves down to the closed end. Then we have to stand and wait for the next stop to switch to the last car. At the stop it is crush to get out of our car and into the next car.
On a side note, Indian's are not very good at lines or waiting their turn. Jessica and I have begun to develop a block and cover strategy for everything from getting on busses to waiting in line at the grocery store; one of us creates a zone for the other and hopefully blocks all others. If you don’t hold your ground, loose all pretension of manners and shove others out of your way you will not get what you need and people take that as an invite to go in front of you. Some examples; waiting to use the phone and literally reaching for it, someone snatches it out of my hand, in line for the prepay rickshaw people move in front of me and form a new line with me not even in it, at the grocery store a woman just walks in front of us, getting on the bus, my foot is on the step my arm on the bar and this woman tries to push under me, lets see where else? Oh yes back on the train, in the crush to get off one car and onto another where we fight our way off and on, I know I know a billion people gotta take what is yours. Anyway, we push out, then back onto the general car and realize that sleeper class truly is deluxe compared to this. It is packed not quite to the gills but close. The benches are wooden slats with wide gaps, no cushy vinyl back here. The only place to sit is the luggage rack, so up we go. It is better than standing, but not much as you have to keep your legs in or else they are hanging in some ones face. It is exciting to ride on the car all things considered, that whole masses of humanity thing. While we are on the train, this woman comes through singing the most haunting beautiful folk song while clacking two stones together in her palm. While I have no idea what she is singing you can feel the emotion behind it. If only I could have captured it. It really was beautiful.
We arrive in Ernarkalum, the departure town for Rajakkad, and receive the first of several good Samaritans advice for getting to the bus. First we get directed to a bus stand and after some frustration a couple people direst us to the north end of town bus stand, the name of high court junction, but they don’t tell us the name just get us on the city bus going there. We get there are after asking around they send us to the south end of town bus station, right past where we began. So again, after asking around and getting a whole lotta blank looks and flat ignoring some one else says you have to go to high court junction. So back on the city bus across town again, right past where we started (again) to the station we have already been to and sent away from! Oh joy. My arm is breaking from the supermarket we hit for western delights (pasta and sauce, honey, soups, and such) and I am bathed in a fine sheen of sweat and grime. Well anyway, we finally decide to just go to a nearby town of Adimally, as people seem to understand that. Finally, around 4 or so we manage to get the bus. I almost wanted to give up and find a hotel with TV, but we would just have to do it all again the next day. Anyway, pass out cold on the bus, bobbing and weaving all over the place, to the extent of which the bus guy makes fun of us and at one of the stops we says "tired" to us as we get off the bus. I guess we were bobbing and swaying all over the place, anyone could have had all our gear and laptops and I don't think we would have noticed in any way shape of form. Finally around 8 or so we get to Adimally and have to exit the bus in pouring down rain to the stand, hoping beyond hope someone will understand Rajakkad and there is still a bus there at this hour. We are directed to the 'second' bus, which turns out to be the exact bus we have just left. Okay so trip in the rain for no particular reason. When the bus conductors and driver come back, they stare at us blankly, clearly thinking, "didn’t we just see them get off" and "didn’t we tell them where the bus to Munnar (tourist spot) is?" We explain and they accept while still seeming a bit confused. Oh well at least we are going home! Finally, another 18 hours day of travel for what should have been only about 8. It only took 1 rickshaw, 1 train-2 cars though, 3 city buses and 1 or 2 other buses depending on how you look at it. But we did get dropped off in front of our house with the help of one of the local shopkeepers. So happy to be home, warm dry and fed!
Well that is enough for now. Although, I must point out the fortune of having Jessica as my traveling and work companion. We have both managed to maintain a good sense of humor at the situation we are in and laugh at ourselves regularly, and most importantly neither of us get carsick.

Just to be sure

This working experience, in a developing country, presents a new host of limitations on not only your ability to work, but the manner in which you know who you are. You may notice that throughout this journal I often use humor or sarcasm as a way of expressing to you the experiences to which I’m having. Be not confused, though, that this is my way of criticizing or finding fault in the manners or customs of a people or nation. More so, it’s a way of coping and processing with (at least for me) the constant state of confrontation of your own views on how “things work”, your own cultural beliefs, your own values and ideals, your own stereotypes and prejudices, the character of how you define yourself.

Almost everyday involves a confrontation of some sort, whether through trying to get home on the bus or trying to write a grant by the submission date; of being held up and delayed of the lack of power which greatly affects the ability of which we do our work, especially with dependency that we know have on computers; the confrontation of language barriers in trying to express your needs, thoughts or ideas or trying to decipher into readable form sentences like “And the coconut front will be defeated for crashing to separate fiber and coconut pith” or “the effects achieving through the haughty and broad activities will be reflected by the marginalized plantation working class in the High range area.”; of being in the top 10% of educated and wealthy people in the world; of rude vs polite; of mostly, with this particular trip my own gender.

Of the traveling I have done, this is the first time that I have been confronted to such an extent of my gender. For the first time in my life, I am feeling that my primary descriptive quality is “female”. While for India, Kerala is one of the most liberal states for women, the area in which we live is rather rural and as a result less profressive. And in fact, for India, this is one of the most progressive areas. Muslim women are not required to be in shroud, women hold jobs and in Kerala women have the highest literacy rates and the lowest fertility rates. Yet, for my own personal experience, while the limitations for women exist in the US, this is my first real confrontation on my own gender.

In review

I figured that I might as well as recap for you my life of the past week or so.

July 15th, 2006- Kim and I travel back from Kovalam to Rajakadd. This trip entails a 30 minute rickshaw ride, a 4 hour train ride and a five hour bus ride up the mountain. In all this is a 220 km trip, or about 136 miles for those of pondering the speed of Indian travel. As you should all remember from my last post at this time I am also high point of my affliction of unidentifiable spots. When we board the train we book the general class seats since it’s a “short” trip. Mistakenly we think that there is no general class car and only reserved seating, where we find a comfortable place for the first two hours. Then the conductor comes and herds us to the rear of the train, with all the other class jumpers to the two general cars. Here we are lucky because the Nationals got charged the fine, and we we’re let go on our ignorance. The general car, or two cars are obviously the most cramped, filled with daily commuters and luggage. The only space we can find is a crawl up space, mostly used for luggage, but when the train becomes full people cram in then as well. Well, mostly men, but in our quest for seating this was certainly the best option. So traveling in true Indian style we arrive…4 hours later.

We have a little lunch and by this time it is about 3 in the afternoon and we need to catch the bus up to Rajakadd. Kim and I have traveled down by bus a few times, but this is our first attempt at trying to go up. At one bus stand in one town, there was a sign that posted bus destinations and times. At three towns there is a “bus conductor” of sorts. Yet of course, Enarkalum is not one of those towns. So to figure out how to take the bus you have to first figure out where the bust stand is. The bus stands I have been to comes in two formats: 3-4 blocks where the buses pull up at the curb or a huge dusty parking lot with a ton of buses. Once you figure out where the bus station is, the real game is to figure out what and when the bus that you need to be on. Since this bus system works without fail (and very punctual l might add) for 1 billion Indians a day, I have no room to complain. Figuring out which bus then means that you have to rely on the kindness of strangers to take pity on you, and be able to understand what city you’re trying to say. It involves wandering around the huge lots, and/or city streets stating your destination over and over again, and following the directions of hand points with the small hope that by the grace of God you will figure out your bus. Of course this process is also facilitated by carrying too much luggage.

On this trip a bus stand was right next to the train station, so we immediately felt our good fortune, because we recognized it was getting late if we’re to make it up today. At this bus stop, which we’ll call Point 1, we we’re directed to the end where some kindly people took us in, and asked me to use English, informed us that we needed to me at the High Court Bus Stand and put us on a bus across town. High Court Bus Stand is very large and consists of both the road pick up points and the parking lot. We got of at the road side, and after some time were told to go to parking lot side. At the parking lot side, after wandering around shouting and asking the various drivers, “Rajakadd?”, we we’re informed that we needed to be a the Kuchinany bus stand and placed on a bus that took as past Point 1, to this much, much smaller bus stop, at which maybe or may there was a bus, but since no one showed any kindness towards us, we we’re forced to ask each and every bus that pulled up the destination, since we don’t read Mayalamam. (Which is interesting in itself, considering that in our remote are, where barely a percentage of the population speaks English, the buses are marked in English, but here a major metro area with many English speakers they’re not, but that’s a point to ponder another time.) Anyway after about 30 minutes a kindly man took pity on us and informed us that we should get on this bus to go a different bus stand that would get us on a bus home. So we got on the bus, went past Point 1 and ended up in the lot at the High Court Bus Stand. Frustrated, we finally figured out that we had to go to the road side.

The other complication, is that no matter what way we pronounce Rajakadd, no one seems to understand us. So all though the buses in the region, almost all travel from Rajakadd to Enarkalum, we had to give us trying to find a bus going directly to Rajakadd because apparently we are often incomprehensible, and instead have to ask for a larger city near on the way to Rajakadd, called Adimaly. Since at this point, even switching our destination to Adimaly seemed like it wasn’t going to work, we wrote on a piece of paper where we trying to go. Then, like a beacon, at the last minute the bus to Adimaly pulled up and we were on our way home.

When we arrived in Adimaly it was dark, cold and pouring sheets of rain. When we pulled in, the bus conductor on our bus pointed out the bus to Munnar and I didn’t correct him because of course to him that’s the logical place I should be going. Kim and I gathered our things and headed out in the down pour to circle the buses for the bus to Rajakadd. Imagine our surprise when we directed back on the bus we just got off, just a tad more wet. Imagine more, the conductors surprise when he got on and found us back in original seats. Anyway, the good thing is that the bus from Adimaly goes right past our front door, so we almost got door to door service.

July 21st The week in Rajakadd passed as normal and my spots had also cleared up. Everyone was happy to have us back. On the day before we had gone back to Adimaly (which is only 1 ½ hours) to use the internet for some research on the grants we are writing, and Kim had left her flash drive there. On this particular Friday, we were supposed to head to the office, so while Kim headed off to get her flash drive I went off to work.

When we first arrived, before the rains, we had taken a path that cuts through the rice paddy fields and along a creek side. This short cut saves about 1-2 km of the walk, but since the rains and the high water and mud we have avoided the path, mostly taking rickshaws to the office and walking the long way home. Well, on this morning it was bright and sunny and warm. It hadn’t rained in 24 hours, and as it turns out Kim is the more intelligent of the two of us. I decided to give the short cut a try and headed off. The first half was fine, the path was dry and wide. About halfway through I ran into a man we know, out in the rice paddy with an electric tiller. I was surprised to see this man here because Kim and I have been pondering what his role is. We remember his as being a jeep driver for us at one point, then he showed up at a the workshop for NGO workers we held, then one day he showed up with the landlord in our house to measure the floors, and now he was in the middle of the rice paddy. He’s a nice man and speaks a little English so we said our greetings and our headed on my way.

Then I came to the little place where you need to cross the stream by balancing maybe one or two steps on the little log. Well, my sandals were muddy. You all can guess what happened. I fell right off that log and wound up thigh deep in the creak. Embarrassed, I climbed out the bank which was about chest level and quickly stood to my feet, and turned around to see if he’d seen me, which of course he had. Indignant, I was not a weakling who could not handle a simple walk through the rice paddies, I put my head up high and walked on. Well, I was wet and muddy and the little muddy walk area between the paddies got less and less and less until at one point I slipped off a little again and broke my sandal. At least this time no one say me though. I removed my sandals, laughed out loud to myself the entire way and made it out, where I was able to fix my sandal, make to work on time and arrived dry but filthy. My little adventure provided much needed delight to the office staff.

That night was going to be a special night for Kim and I. My mother (Thanks Mom!!) had sent Kim and I two movies, and tonight we were going to make a special dinner, some popcorn we’d found in Adimaly and watch one of the movies. Kim made a delicious meal, and we watched the movie. Later that night, I tossed and turned in my bed feeling nauseous. About 4 in the morning I woke up and headed to the bathroom, where I felt maybe I’d feel a little better. The next thing I knew I woke up on the floor covered in my own vomit and drenched in sweat. I crawled up in a panic and began to get out of the bathroom to begin what is now my first adventure with food poisoning. Kim helped me back to bed, where I laid with the bucket. About an hour later, Kim came down as well, but without the vomiting, but the other unpleasantries. It was too bad for her, but better that it was both of us because at least we were assured of the cause. With in an hour I had felt better, but both Kim and I both had come down with a slight fever and spent the entire day in bed.

July 22nd Around 7 that night, the neighbor stopped by to see if we would be up for a visit from the Doctor of whom had been by last week for social reasons. I explained to the neighbor that we were sick and wouldn’t be able to take any callers that night. This caused among our neighbors great concern. At this point Kim and I were mostly feel tired and weak from lack of food and the like, but knew that at this point we would probably be fine by morning. The neighbors offered us the doctor, tea, food and we declined preferring to crawl back in bed instead.

Well, about 9 that night, it seems that the neighbor women had conferred and overrode our decision. The four neighbors knocked on the door with tea and informed us that they had called our boss from the office who was on the way. So there Kim and I sat, uncombed hair, sweat ridden pajamas, sitting on the floor on the living room which only consists of one desk and two plastic lawn chairs anyway, just wanting to crawl into bed or at least lay down, knowing that it was too late to protest. Ten minutes later, our boss showed up, with a co-worker and the driver. He insisted that the doctor come now, to which we didn’t bother to protest. By this time the crowd at the door had grown to include the children, another driver, and the bus stand guy from town who it turns out is also our neighbor and his wife. Kim and I weakly sat smiling and trying to make pleasantries while they discussed how much vomiting and loose motions has been passed.

The doctor came, gave us a couple of pills to ease the fever and at long last the Saturday night excitement was over and everyone wandered home. Kim and I woke up Sunday feeling like our old selves. We’ve decided that this is the most care and concern we’ve gotten while sick since our mothers homes, and that truthfully despite the comedy and hassle of it all, it felt a little good. What would of made it little better though was the old comfort food of dry toast, 7 up and jello. Of course we’ve now learned to Indian versions of plain rice in water, mango pickle and hot tea.

Half Way

For those of you that were worried about me, I don’t think there is any need. My spots seem to be going away slowly but surely. It seems since I’ve left Kovalam they’ve stopped multiplying. Perhaps I was just having an allergic reaction to something after all. I’ve never been prone to allegories but I do hear that you can develop them later in life.

We have four weeks left in Rajakadd to complete our work, and we’re starting to feel the time crunch. I wish that I had more to write about my work here, but I’m afraid it’s rather boring to the reader. Since our area is organizational development, it’s a lot less exciting than being an activist or organizer for the rights of people, or even a peace protector. Basically we are working on four different tasks to help increase the strength of the organization: implementing evaluation systems, grant writing, web site development and making brochures. There’s not much excitement in that, except for when people confuse us for organizers or activists here to rile up the people. Mostly the first month here was spent just understanding what the organization did. Working through language barriers made it very difficult for us to clarify those activities that they had done in the past, those currently being run and those that they would like to do. The last few weeks were spent doing research of potential funders and web site hosts and activities. For this we went to Bangalore because we needed good internet connection, a basic tool that at least for my generation. I know little on how to survive without it, especially when it comes to research and communications. We’re now to the phase where we are writing funding proposals and have helped them work on using participatory methods to identify impact indicators for evaluation and monitoring purposes.

Even though our work is less exciting than other human rights activities, it’s just as beneficial and I feel that on some levels we have the opportunity to make a more lasting impact. The people here are learning a lot about ways in ways to make their organization more stable and by doing so have the capacity to serve more people with higher quality and greater lasting impact. So although it’s less exciting to talk about, I like to think that we’re the sly ones who fly under the radar most of the time.

We had to finally start saying no to meeting with people, which I know is disappointing to others, but necessary if we are to be able to complete our tasks. In the last few days alone we have been invited to visit more Self Help Groups of women, three schools, the hospital and a few other NGO’s in the area. Our presence here is greatly welcomed by the community and everyone wants to spend time with us, or get our ideas on what they could do to better their endeavors. That is the precisely the conundrum we often find ourselves our in. As you all know, we are not experts in the many fields that we can asked for advice. We’ve had to tell people that if we have additional time at the end of our stay here them maybe we can visit, but until then it’s just not possible.

Life at home is pretty much the same, we were gone the last two weeks so it was a nice break from the routine. The children were very happy to see us return. Tonight we got our first cooking lesson from our landlord. We make a jackfruit curry dish that we love. Tomorrow night she will teach us how to cook Chapatti’s and vegetable curry. They are very kind and generous to us, always bringing us fresh fruit and sharing food. It’s a very nice experience, and I hope to have neighbors like this in the future.

It’s been raining for one month straight now. Everyday there is rain. It’s very spotty peaks of sun followed by a sudden down pour, then dry then a light drizzle all through the day and the night. Everything in the house is molding. The pillows, clothing, bags, mats all of it. It’s the hazard of the monsoon or so we’re told.

That’s all for now.

Blessed be you and yours,
Jessica

Not Mites

The good news is I don't have mites, the bad news is I don't know what I have and it's getting progressively worse. After acquiring more red dots yesterday, and seeing a few on my face I decided to go to the Doctor. I've been in Kovalam the last week working with my professor and some other students. Kovalam is a beach town, and huge destination for tourists.

Anyway the Doctor did not think that it was mites, as I only had them on the arms and legs of my body. He thought that perhaps I'm having an allergic reaction to something, so he prescribed some cream and antihistamines.

Today I woke up and they are worse, there are over 40 on my left arm alone. My face is horrid right now. I'm on my way back to Rajakadd right now so if I am allergic to something then I'm leaving what ever it is. I figure I'll give it a couple of more days to see if it clears up. They very well could be a reaction to something as I'm neither sick nor do they itch.

Wish me well!!