Bright lights, beefless burgers and Big Bazaar

This weekend we headed to the big city of Surat. Even though it was Saturday we still had to teach until 11am and after we packed and ate we headed out to the bus station across the street. We had hoped to leave Bajipura at one, but weren’t able to get a bus until nearly two. The buses here are a little scary, as are the roads and the drivers. As we sped up to pass a truck I saw a sign on the bridge that said “Go Slow, Weak Bridge.” Comforting.

We planned on meeting up and staying the night with Daleena (who is from Oregon as well!) and Pamela, two teachers also employed by the Foundation at an urban school in Surat. We got a rickshaw from the bus station to a shopping center near the house the girls live in. Trying to squeeze four Americans into a rickshaw is hard. I ended up sitting next to the driver, but I could only fit half my body in the rickshaw so my knees were hanging out in traffic. Several times I thought I was going to be hit by a motorcycle. Arriving safely at the shopping plaza we first went to an ATM, something we do not have in Bajipura. Then we hit up a coffee shop called Coffee Day and it made our day. We even took pictures of our delicious cups of caffeine, which goes to show how deprived we sometimes feel here. After feeling sufficiently energized we went to a huge market that winds itself around and through complicated alleyways. There was so much to see at this market that I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up buying some new petticoats to wear under my saris and some shoes.

Feeling hungry, we went in search of food; non-veg food. We also wanted to see a movie that night and so we settled on going to the theater and choosing somewhere to eat there. 7 of us decided on McDonald’s and I’m happy I did. I had a Maharaja burger, which is the equivalent of the Big Mac sans the beef. Instead it is stacked high with two chicken patties and some veggies. It was delicious! As we were enjoying our food one of the employees came to talk with us. He seemed very excited to have the opportunity to speak English with us and asked for our autographs. I told him that I had worked at McDonald’s in America which excited him even more. Then he asked me what the biggest difference was between McDonald’s in America and in India. Was this a trap? Obviously I knew what the biggest difference was, but I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be if I told him. I turned to Mansi, and asked in a quiet voice “Am I allowed to say the B word here?” She laughed and assured me it was fine. I turned to him and timidly said “Well, uh, I think the biggest difference would be that, we uh….eat beef.” “Ah, yes. We do not eat beef here” was his only reply.

After we finished eating our new friend asked if we would like a tour of the kitchen and we of course said Yes! Before entering the kitchen for our tour we all had to put on hairnets. He took us through and explained all the machines and apparatuses, the temperatures and processes, and most importantly, how the veg and non-veg foods are cooked and prepared in opposite sides of the kitchen. It was the most fun at McDonald’s I’ve ever had.

After dinner we headed up to the movie theater to watch New York, a bollywood movie that chronicles the lives of three immigrants in New York during and after the attacks on the WTC. There was very little English and no subtitles, but I was still able to follow the plot-I think. Halfway through, the movie stopped for intermission and people headed to the snack counter to refuel and I pulled out my 10 rupee bag of popcorn that I bought at the market. I would like to watch it again, but next time with English subtitles.

The next day we headed to a really nice mall and felt very out of place with our backpacks and scruffy appearance. Not being able to afford anything there with my dollar-a-day-salary some of us braved the monsoon rains to run down the road to Big Bazaar, a haven for those on a budget. I bought some material for shirts, sheets and a new pillow because the one I was given smells like mold. All in all, our trip to Surat was successful and enjoyable.

I'm fasting for what?!

This week I started a five day fast for an unusual reason, especially considering my tendency to be a feminist. This fast takes place every year and many women, from pre-adolescent to adult, take part. The reason for the fast? We fasted in hopes of finding a good husband.

The reason I wanted to fast was mostly because I wanted to take part in something that is so important to the culture I am living in. The fast started on Sunday and I went to a temple for the Goddess Shiva with some Indian friends. First, we all sat in a circle around the shrine, which was a cobra with a large suspended pot above it. At the base of the shrine we placed a green leaf that had a symbol made from a red powder. Onto the leaf we placed a flower, a nut, a coin and next to the leaf we placed a banana. Then we poured three spoonfuls of water and milk over it all. After that we sprinkled an array of colorful powders on our growing pile. To that, we added more flowers, more water, and more milk. On top of that, we placed loops of thread. Onto the head of the cobra we placed flowers and sprinkled powder. We then lit the candles on our platter and stood, moving it in a circular motion in front of the cobra. To conclude the ceremony we moved out into the open worship area and sat in a circle while we listened to someone read from a book and then a priest tied a red string on our wrists, which I must wear until it falls off.

The rules for the fast differ among the castes and the religions, and I followed the rules that our cook laid out for me. I wasn’t allowed to eat any salt and during the day I was only allowed to eat fruits and nuts. At dinner I was allowed to eat a kind of flat bread made from wheat, but I had to consume everything while sitting at the table without getting up. If I got up in the middle of the meal I wasn’t able to eat anymore. It was hard to follow all the rules and after two days of fasting I was very tired and felt lightheaded. Many girls were absent from my classes because they were also feeling the effects of the fast.

My resolve was really tested when Kirsten and I were invited to Ruckshaben’s (one of my co-teachers) house for dinner. Knowing that I was fasting she prepared a plate of nuts and fruits and a cup of tea for me as an after school snack. As we sat chatting her brother stopped by for a visit and brought a fish for dinner. She also decided to make chicken that night. I was so sad! This was my first chance at eating non-veg in India and I was fasting! To make matters worse I had to sit at a separate table in the kitchen with my plate of flat bread while Kirsten and Ruckshaben dined happily on delicious protein that I was so desperately craving. To top it all off the table was very short and I felt very much like a child being punished.

At school this week there were many activities going on and they all seemed to coincide with the fast. The first competition was a mendhi (henna) competition. Hundreds of girls from all grades gathered in the assembly hall to apply mendhi on a friend, or in a couple cases, to themselves. I started looking at the mendhi of the younger girls in 7th and 8th grade. The designs were simple, but still impressive. As I moved on to view the other participants I was taken aback with the amount of detail and beauty of their designs. I couldn’t imagine trying to judge them because to me they were all amazing. A girl from my 8th grade class did mendhi on my hands and feet and went on to win the competition. The darker your mendhi is, the more your husband will love you, or so they say. My mendhi was very dark which excited my students. The other competitions were a hairstyle competition (which I was a judge for) a bridal dress competition, and an aarti competition where the students made offering platters used in ceremonies at temples. I was impressed by the creativity of the students and took many pictures.

Finally, the fast ended and I was permitted to eat all the foods I had been craving. My first meal was very flavorful and salt never tasted so good. Overall, I’m glad I took part in the fast and it really seemed to work because I am engaged!


Just kidding.

Watery Wishes

Today I was sitting on my balcony listening to my iPod and enjoying a rare cool breeze when I noticed a bunch of women gathering across the street. Two women were carrying on their heads a wooden board that was covered in flowers while the other women followed behind singing and chanting. My interest piqued, and I began to watch more intently. They started to fill buckets with water and approached a group of men, and without hesitation threw the water all over them. Then the men turned on a hose and started to retaliate. I ran to get my camera, not wanting to miss this cultural event unfolding before me even though I was completely oblivious to what was really going on. Some of the women noticed me documenting them and I gave them a shy smile and wave. As they continued on through the street they poured water on anyone they could. Every house was visited and the owner would come out to pour water on the women holding the flowers. I was so enthralled with what was going on that I didn’t hear the three women run up my stairs with bottles of water which they poured all over me. This is how I came to join in with them.

I followed the women from house to house, not understanding anything that was being said to me, but still thoroughly enjoying the moment. At one point they gestured to the head pieces and seemed to ask if I wanted to put it on. At first I was hesitant, not sure what my role would be or even what to do, but I didn’t want to pass up such a unique opportunity. I obliged and took the heavy piece and placed it on my head. It was awkward and I had to hold it with both hands as I walked, being careful to keep my head level so as not to dump the flowers on the ground. At the first house the inhabitant seemed very surprised to see me. She then took some water and poured it over the flowers on my head. Then she sprinkled some sugar and sprinkled more water on me. This was done at every house I went to and soon I was soaking wet, so much so that I was afraid my pants were going to fall off! At one point someone took the head piece back and I was able to squeeze out some water from my shirt and scarf and tighten my pants.

As the sun went down, so did the temperature and soon I was shivering. I bid farewell to the group and made my way home, leaving a trail of water spots behind me on the road. When I got home I stripped off my wet clothes, jumped in a cold shower and went to bed. As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep I heard the sound of rain on my window. The monsoon had finally arrived.

First Day of School!

Today marked our first day as teachers at the Gujarati Medium School in Madhi. For a week we had been going to class with our Indian co-teacher to observe how classes are run in India. My schedule has me mostly in 7th, 8th, 9th and 11th grade classes. In India, each grade is bifurcated into different sections depending on ability and the number of years they have been at the school. The first section is A and those students are at a higher level; the lowest section is E, and most of those students are from small, village schools. Most of my classes are sections of C, D, and E; the lowest in the school. It was disheartening the first couple days of my observations because the Indian teachers were reviewing the Gujarati alphabet! All I could think was how am I supposed to teach them English if they don’t know the alphabet in their mother tongue?! I tried not to let that discourage me and I focused on what they do know, their enthusiasm and trying to build upon that. After a week or two of teaching the students and I got more comfortable with each other. They are not as timid to answer questions and most times I have too many volunteers.

Aside from my work at the Gujarati Medium School I also spend two hours a week at the nearby English Medium School. This school is drastically different. English Medium Schools are not free and the one I work at is run like a military school. Students must stand at attention during the morning prayers and pledge of allegiance. While walking the youngest students must place their pointer finger on their lips, as if to say “Shhh.” The youngest students are 3 and the oldest are 12. The majority of the classes are conducted in English, even in the lower levels, the theory being total immersion. The class sizes are dramatically different as well. My 6th grade class has 10 students and my 4th grade class has 8. Even though my classes there are small they are just as exhausting. I constantly hear “Teacher! Madam! Teacher! Teacher!” as I walk through class to check work. Their English skills are higher and they are not afraid to use them. They are also extremely cute in their uniforms.

Our work day starts at 9:30 with a Spoken English class. This class is an extra class that the students can take for free. In India there is a huge trend of taking tuition classes, which are supplementary classes taken before and after school. Tuition classes are not free and some students cannot afford the extra expense so we added this Spoken English class. At 10:30 the bell rings for the first period and students run to their classrooms. In India the students stay in the same room all day and it is the teachers that move around. Anytime a teacher walks into the class all the students stand and say in unison “Good Morning Teacher” to which the teacher responds “Good morning, please sit” and as they do they say in unison again “Thank you Teacher.” At 10:40 Morning Prayer begins. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday the Prayer is in the assembly hall where 600 secondary students file in and sit cross-legged on the floor. The prayers are usually sung by three or four girls over the loudspeaker and the melodies are haunting. During prayer the students are expected to stand with hands in a prayer position with eyes closed, regardless of religion. The prayer ends with the national anthem and class begins.

Classes only last about 30-40 minutes, but that can seem like an eternity when you are facing a class of 60 students who don’t know how to respond to your questions. I sometimes have to rephrase my questions two or three times or write the question on the board before I can finally elicit a response. At 1:30 lunch begins and everyday is like a buffet, the best part being the chai that is delivered daily from the shop outside the gate. Sometimes I can't wait for the lunchtime chai so I sneak out the gate for a quick cup. All the teachers share food together so on any given day I am able to sample 6 different dishes, all of which are delicious despite their odd appearance. From chopsticks to fingers, I am becoming a pro at eating with my hands and only rarely use utensils. I think my tolerance for spicy food has also improved out of necessity. Our school day ends at 4 when our van picks us up and takes us back to Bajipura where we usually unwind from the day with another steaming cup of chai.