India: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

A Few of My Favorite Things (photos!)

2010-08-04T01:44:00.000-07:00

A few of my favorite photos from India!

Working in the Muslim Slums

2010-07-02T01:31:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I just wrote a long entry to this and, of course, lost it because the internet connection is never, ever consistent. AHHHHHH!! Take 2!

So, I have spent the past week training in the Muslim slum areas of Hyderabad. For those of you who don't know Hyderabad actually has quite a large Muslim population (roughly 40%). It is also considered very peaceful despite the religious mix.

These trainings have been truly eye-opening to me. In the four days I have been doing these trainings I have done one on a village roof top, one in the basement of a mosque (complete with chickens) and two in one-room school houses. It has been an experience!

The "Old City" is the area of Hyderabad where most of the Muslim population resides and although it is still HYD I must admit it is quite different.

First, there is the sudden pervasiveness of meat. Yes, meat. I know to most of you reading this that this comment will sound strange but it has been some time since I have shared space with meat eating culture and I must admit, it was a bit nasty. So many goats, butchers, and butcher shops. So many flies and blood caked shirts and meat sitting out in the sun all day. I guess perhaps it is the meat-eating culture of India which is slightly less appealing. It makes me WANT to be a vegetarian.

The other is the sheer number of burkas....or rather, women in burkas. There is something about working in a room full of women in burkas which makes me feel vulnerable (well, rather exposed). I find myself pulling up my pants and pulling down my kurta in an effort to cover any possibly exposed skin. I can feel their curious eyes on me .... certainly they are scandalized by my 'exposure'. It is intimidating. The first time I walked into a room of burka-clad women I wanted to walk back out, to start over again - to put on a scarf before I turned the corner and to hide the tattoos on my feet. Scandal! As I look out over this sea of black upon wave of black and find myself searching for some meaning before me and I fall short every time.

Most of them will take off the nose scarf (mouth cover) of the burka once they know that all men have been cleared from the room. I find this transformation astonishing. First it is the realization that these girls are just that...girls. It is amazing how difficult age is to decipher in a burka (interesting!). It is also amazing how much stronger my connection feels to these girls when I can see their faces - their shy smiles and uncomfortable laughter.

I am training these girls in Adolescent Health, Hygiene, birth spacing, age at first birth and age at marriage. To put this into appropriate perspective, most of these girls have never heard of menarche (or often period) and many use dirty rags during their monthly cycles. Nearly all of them have no say over who they marry, when they marry or when they have children. I have already met more than one girl who was 16 with one child and married at 14 or 15. (here, pregnancy directly follows marriage).

During these trainings I feel cautiously hopeful for these girls. I see their eagerness to learn and to be empowered. I watch as they nod and smile when we talk about proper hygiene and how they giggle behind their black mask when we tell them that men, in fact, are the determiners of the gender of a child and no one else. How they brighten when we tell them all children are a gift, irregardless of gender.

This hope is dampened when I what them clammer to hide and cover themselves if a man happens to appear or as I watch the elder women from the town listening in to evaluate the content of the presentation. I find it discouraging that these women are often the enforcers of the social norm, having an attitude of "i bore this burden and so will everyone else".

I admit that I don't understand it, this culture of cover. I also admit that I would never want to live my life this way - through a slit. But, I am eager to learn and understand and I think that is the most important piece. I am eager to have compassion and learn from these women.

What I can say is: WOW! What a diverse world we have.

I find myself thinking on how it will feel to go to my first outing in New York and see women in New York evening attire. Will I feel scandalized? What will it be like to wear shorts after all this time?

New York will certainly be a shock. As my friend put it, "you have gone native. New York is gonna be nuts". I, for one, think it will be fine but also forever different.

Meghan

Eyes Down, Shoulders Back

2010-05-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

So, let me premise this post with the simple statement that I am feeling pretty upset and angry at the moment. Therefore, my compassion and perspective might be slightly limited. Apologies in advance.

When I walk down the road in India regardless of what I am wearing people stare at me. Well, not actually just stare at me - they lecherously, gap mouthed stare at me for extended periods of time. It is not flattering; rather, it is infuriating and sometimes downright scary. I am actually waiting for the day when some man crashes his motorcycle because he is too busy staring at me to worry himself with driving down the road. On a daily basis rickshaw drivers do nothing short of run me down with their vehicle as they stumble all over themselves trying to ask if I need a ride (which I don't, I never do because if I want a ride I will ask). Women are the same. They sit on the back of the motorcycles and watch me until they can not see me anymore.

What I have learned to do is never look up - EVER. If I look up or risk the possibility of eye contact what is a mere difficulty becomes an all out battle. If I look up the rickshaw driver follows me for 50 meters or the men on their motorcycles pull over and start talking to me. I have become a woman with downcast eyes. My only choice when I decide to walk on the street is to put on an angry face and never, ever look up. I hate this reality and I hate the rage it makes me feel.

There are moments or days when things get simply overwhelming. When the need to lash out becomes so poignant I have to cry or scream. Today is one of those days and as I write this post I am crying because I am soooooo angry and exhausted by this.

Today as I was walking the 1/2 mile from where I got some groceries to my home a man stopped his car...I kept walking. He then drove the wrong way in traffic following me...I ignored him. Finally, I looked at him and he says "I go to your gym!" as if this is going to make me feel more comfortable that he is following me down the road as I try to walk home as inconspicuously as possible.

I want to scream at him that I don't care if he goes to my gym - I don't want him following me! But, I don't - because anything I have to say will not make a difference to him. Rather, it will urge him in his pursuit. Saying nothing is really my only option. Keep walking - head down, shoulders back: look angry, look ready to fight - look as unapproachable as possible. That is what I tell myself whenever I go outside and I actually have to go any distance before I get in an auto or get picked up by a friend.

The other week I was walking home and my hands were full of bags and my work stuff. A man came up from behind me and grabbed my breasts. He did this because he could - my hands were full and I was walking against traffic at 8:30 at night. I screamed and turned towards him but at that point he was running in the other direction. What I hated most about this was that all the other people watching me saw this and I know they got some sort of grotesque excitement and chuckle over the whole situation. I was mortified and angry but all I could do was keep walking: eyes down, shoulders back.

Perhaps the thing that makes me most upset it that on a daily basis I am expected to have so much compassion for everyone here. I am expected to integrate all of these experiences into the understanding that 'things are different in India'. For all the compassion I feel I have for this culture - I get little in return. In fact, I told this story to some friends and one of the responses was "I know this sounds jaded but I feel like that is sort of harmless because they are just acting like 14 year old boys "oh, I just touched boobies". Now, I get this sentiment and I very much respect the person who made this comment so I really do understand the whole concept. I understand that there is little I can do about it but I also think that sentiment is the symptom of a much bigger problem. The idea that women here are held accountable for the actions of men or that they are just supposed to 'take it' so to speak is deeply disturbing.

And, perhaps the most disturbing part is that I have also started behaving this way. Instead of addressing the problem I keep walking. Instead of saying how inappropriate and awful the behavior is, I keep walking. A large part of this is language. How do I say: You are a dirty misogynist pig in Hindi? I doubt the word misogynist exists in Hindi - the culture is way to patriarchal.

So, today is one of those days. I think what really go me going was the man following me in his car and assuming because he had seen me at the gym he should follow me home and that we would have some sort of friendly familiarity.

I am also just so angry about this culture and the onus it puts on women in terms of being accountable for the behavior of men. As I am sure most of you know, the reason women wear kaftans and burkas is because men can not control themselves so women need to cover themselves.

I have a very simple critique of this. Essentially, any culture where one group is held accountable for the actions and behaviors of another, and to their own detriment, is not a culture of fairness or equal voice. It is a culture of repression and insidious control.

The latent suppression of women in India is nothing short of heartbreaking. The fact that I have bought into this is enraging.

So, I will end with this question: "If you were me, what would you do?"

Friends, Family and Lonliness

2010-05-15T06:06:00.001-07:00

Last night marked the departure of my two best friends from India headed back to New York as well as the last of my string of visitors from home (one more visit in July from my love).

Between my Mother and friends visiting I have had a full house since about April 14th. Today, sitting in my room alone, once again, I must say that my overwhelming emotion is sadness.

Certainly I, like almost everyone else, am glad to have my house back to normal and my bed back to myself but knowing that no one who really knows me is going to be around to support me for the next 3 months does feel somewhat aweful.

As I reflect I realize that this observation about myself, this sheer loneliness I feel is funded by something with great strength: a home, someone I love, a place I want to return to. And perhaps, most importantly, these feelings are NEW for me. Never before have I felt comfortable enough and safe enough to really feel it was HOME. Also, never before have I felt comfortable enough in my own skin and my own company to want to return somewhere. I must say that I have spent much of my life running away in an effort not to have to walk through.

So, today, this is what I have been thinking on - How this new great strength I have discovered also brings me such great discomfort.

I never thought that loneliness could be so exhausting and excurtiating. The quality of loneliness I speak of is not about lack of social invitations or lack of friends here...this loneliness is about missing someone and some place that you feel is part of you and knowing that there is nothing you can do about it in the short term and that (perhaps this is the worst) KNOWING that you will continue to keep feeling this way until you get home.

If typical loneliness were a cold, this would be cancer.

But, despite this, I am thrilled to have arrived at this place - I am thrilled to have something to hang onto. Which brings me to another thought....

A few weeks ago a friend used the word 'settle' in a sentence "I just need to settle in a bit" and then quickly said "Oh, I used the S word." And this little tiny exchange - which I am sure the person I am speaking of would likely not remember - has stuck with me because I used to feel that way too - settle was a 4 letter word.

But when I heard it this time around I felt, with some certainty, that this person was actually the one missing out...and that what I had standing on the other side of street was not anything like how I had imagined it nor was it anything I thought tied me down or limited my choices. In fact, I think it is something which gives me amazing strength, perspective and confidence.

So, this is what I have been thinking on today with my friends gone and my house empty. My how I have grown and it certainly has not been painless BUT I like where I am now. I like knowing that I will forever remain a global citizen while at the same time a person with a home. And I know that I am stronger for it.

So, if I may, I would like to ask you....does settling still scare you?

Lions and Leopards and Giraffes (Oh my!)

2010-03-30T13:06:00.000-07:00

Three continents in the last months and now I am back pretty much for good to India (slightly tired I must add).

The last week in Nairobi, Kenya represents my first trip to Africa and I must say it has been wonderful. It is always so different to go to see a place to visit then it is to live somewhere for an extended length of time so I think that Nairobi has had that effect on me….it seems very bright and shiny and perfect!

I must admit, I felt much more drawn to Africa than India but I also spent all of my time Nairobi which is a diamond in the ruff so to speak. There is something about the green and clean air and freedom of dress that make it seem so much easier than India. I could wear tank tops (yes, it is about the small wins!).

But, enough with the comparisons..tomorrow I will be back in India and will make it work there.

The week I spent in Nairobi was for fellows mid-year which is when Acumen Fund brings everyone from my fellows class together half-way through. It was wonderful to see everyone and a reminder of the strength one can derive from having people around them who understand them, support them and believe in their abilities. I think it is safe to say it was a much needed and wonderful time for everyone. I return to India with a bitter-sweet feeling knowing that I have energy and optimism funded by the group I have spent the past week with at the same time knowing I will likely not see any of them until September.

So, onto the good stuff – Sarah, you are going to be soooo jealous when you read this! (hehe).

When I was not working in Nairobi I did some really amazing things.

1) Safari
2) Giraffe Center
3) Elephant Nursery

I went on the Safari over this past weekend at Masai Mara. It was spectacular! I spent one morning with the Masai. The Masai are quite famous native tribe (most known for their jumping). During the morning we went walking with several young Masai warriors who explained some of their culture. It was an interesting experience of culture clash for me. Perhaps the most salient example being that all of these men, wearing beads and robes with spears and clubs also all carried cell phones!

As we walked and they told us how they brushed their teeth with this particular piece of wood or dyed their clothing with a particular root their cell phone would ring and we were all quickly socked with the irony of being in the Kenyan bush walking and talking with one of the oldest existing African tribes while they answered their cell-phones. I could go on and on about this but I am guessing the point has been made.

Some interesting facts I learned during this time:

1) All men are circumcised at 15 years. After this they are all forced into the bush by the tribe and must remain there for 5 years. During this time the work on numerous ‘warrior skills’ one being their jumping and the other hunting.

2) When they all come back at the age of 20 the man who can jump the highest gets a discounted wife.

3) If any of them have managed to kill a lion they get a free wife.

**I must note here that it is difficult to tell how much of what you are hearing is true. There is a great degree of ‘tourism’ which surrounds the Masai and I got the impression that they were as much playing to us as anything.

One of my key take-aways from this discussion would be the fact that no matter where I go it seems women are often powerless…..

The Masai man I was walking with also proudly told me that “Women do all the work. Men guard against animals.” (great).

Safari’s are somewhat unpredictable in the sense that you cannot guarantee that you get to see everything. We got very lucky!

On the first day I saw a leopard, a lioness with two cubs (literally 5 feet from me), black rhino, water buffalo, wildebeests, elephants, giraffes and tons of other stuff (You know you are jaded when you describe zebras as ‘other stuff’).

Perhaps the creature which had the most effect on me was the Giraffes. They are elegant, beautiful and curious. I never thought they were so beautiful. When they run it looks like slow motion. I really can’t describe it.

So, the safari was a success. Next I went to a giraffe reserve where orphaned giraffes are taken. Oh my goodness…I was like a kid in a candy store. Here I got to pet them and feed them! Awesome.

Next I went to an elephant nursery where orphaned elephants are taken for recovery. This experience was phenomenal. These baby elephants were so interactive and had personality. Some clearly wanted to engage while others seemed more shy…it was fantastic.

Their trunks are covered in whiskers and their skin feels strange and un-alive, but they have these eyes which are expressive and endearing.

While we were there we actually got to see a new rescue delivered to the nursery. This baby elephant had fallen down an 18 foot latrine and spent 3 days at the bottom. It was covered in tics and too weak to stand – truly heart breaking. It was at this moment when we were told that over 50% of the rescues do not survive.

There was also a full grown rhino and baby rhino at the nursery as well.

If you are an animal lover you MUST do all three of these things.

Okay, there is much more but I will start with just this one. I promise to be a better blogger :)

The Taj + Holi

2010-03-02T21:19:00.000-08:00

So, I just finished a pretty amazing weekend in Delhi (and neighboring areas).

To begin I saw the Taj Mahal, which was pretty amazing in and of itself although I must admit that I am never overwhelmed by extra large marble structures. Sorry, that sounds really obtuse. Either way, it was quite beautiful and magical in its own right. There is something about the sheer size of it paired with the amazing amount of marble and intricate design which does make it rather breath-taking (even for me!). Pictures will never do it justice (in fact, they just end up looking like post cards) but I have attached them anyways. One thing I did find interesting was the significant number of out-buildings other than the Taj Mahal. I guess I sort of imagined it as this free-standing structure but it is not, not even close...there are numerous other buildings surrounding it.

Now, onto the really cool part :)

This weekend I had the fantastic experience of celebrating Holi the "festival of colors". Honestly, this holiday rocks. In a nutshell you spend two days throwing colored powders at one another. Honestly, pretty unbelievable. There is something very freeing about walking down the streets and just attacking someone with bright yellow, pink, purple, green, red and blue powder.

It is a dirty, filthy holiday but well worth it and comes highly recommended as something everyone should do once in their life (read: put it on your bucket list).
Attached are some photos of Holi and me looking like a bit of a nutcase. My body was stained for a couple of days but all in all I was not much worse for the wear..although my hair was destroyed.

I also had the pleasure of being molested by a dancing transvestite during my trek to the temple. Only in India!!

Enjoy the picks.

Who are you really?

2010-02-09T21:20:00.000-08:00

One of the things that India does is forces you to ask the hard questions. Mostly the hard questions about yourself and how you view the world and where your personal values really fall.

During my three months (yes, it has been nearly 3!!) in India perhaps one of the most challenging aspects has been coming face to face with some of the things about myself I am not always comfortable with. Some of the values and fears (mostly fears) I have that perhaps had not been forced until I got to India, the land of 'in your face'.

This reality about India sort of came to a head during an experience I had last weekend. But, before I go into that experience I want to provide a little background.

Those of you who know much about me or what I am doing know that I am altruistic, optimistic and tenacious. That I really do believe in the goodness of people and their desire and ability to succeed and achieve whatever their definition of 'self realization' might be. I believe in people.

And, perhaps until I came to India I was always filled with compassion when I saw others in desperate situations. What I felt was compassion - not fear or disgust or repulsion or judgement but compassion.

During my time in India I have had to admit that my compassion is not, in fact, ubiquitous. I have had to admit (something I already knew but maybe did not want to apply to myself) that no one person is pure altruism or pure selfishness. That, at the end of the day what we are all is human and that being human involves being afraid and having an ego and not wanting to lose or be lost among many other things. Being human is, by definition, being completely and utterly imperfect.

There have been many times already when I have had to admit that rather than feeling compassion I felt repulsion- that while I sat in my auto on my way home I DID NOT WANT TO BE TOUCHED by the filthy begging woman tapping my knee - or that the woman holding the bleeding baby in her arms may or may not have staged the entire thing to earn 1 extra Rs. or that the little boy who bangs on the car window filthy from head to toe is wasting his existence and that we have all failed in some terrible way by making his best option begging in the traffic.

I admit this to myself almost daily. My compassion has limitations and my optimism gets overwhelmed. India overwhelms me from time to time with its sheer level of desperation, wealth and contradictions.

but, last Saturday I experienced something which made it all a bit more poignant.

I was coming home from work in an auto (this is important because it means you are touchable..not like a car).

We stopped at a major intersection and, as always, there were beggars milling around asking for money. I am always a target, if I am noticed (which is typically what happens) they always come to my auto. Hey, it actually makes sense - I am white which means I am rich (which I sort of am in this world).

This situation is no big deal...I have been here before.

In front of me on my left (the most open side of the auto) a man turns around and spots me instantly. Still no big deal...I have been here before. But, as he turns and begins to limp toward me this encounter takes on a whole new gravity.

He is limping, his left foot, there is something wrong with it and his left hand is wrapped in white cotton bandages and all the fingers...they end in a crumple after the first knuckle...there are no fingertips...just jagged nubs and as my eyes move from foot to hand to foot and then to his face where his nose is an erosion, a blighted lump, not a nose but a cavity a destroyed abyss of what was human flesh the realization hammers into my consciousness with urgency.

LEPER, LEPER, LEPER, this man is a leper.

And, I am scared. I am feeling a very guttural reaction and instinct to protect myself to ensure that I NEVER LOOK LIKE HIM.

And, I know, I KNOW without a doubt that this man is going to touch me because if he tries to touch me the more likely I am to give him money, just to get him to go away.

And, I am trapped in the back of this auto stuck in bumper to bumper traffic just trying to get home from work.

My mind is clamoring for options while I am also in a sort of curious trance. As this man approaches I can't stop looking at him and I can't stop trying to understand his story while at the same time I am praying that he understands and has compassion for my situation (oh, god, please don't touch me!). He is toothless, nose-less, left-fingerless and left foot-less. And, as he comes closer the whole meaning of leprosy sinks in. It has nibbled away at his body like some strange mouse. None of the fracture or disappearance is clean. Flesh has crumbled from his body. He is a living erosion.

And as he approaches I make the decision not to give him money knowing that he will touch me. And I make this decision because I know that this is what I am most afraid of. I make the decision to face this so I keep my hands in my lap, as far away from wallet as possible and I look him in the eye and I tell him No.

And, it does not change him at all. He continues to tap on my knee with his nibbed left hand and grin at me with all his ugliness and in the moment I want to scream I also have to admire his courage. The courage he has to be out here, showing himself and all its ugliness to the world. Knowing that all we are likely thinking is: "Please never let me look like this person."

As quickly as it began, it is over. The auto moves forward and I will never see this man again.

But, the memory will likely be with me forever.

I have been thinking on this experience a lot. Thinking about what it says about me and what it says about the world and us all as humans.

I don't feel badly for how I behaved, I have no idea if I did the right thing but I do know that I faced something about myself that day which I am not to keen on facing again - a bit of my own limitations, my own ugliness and self-centeredness and perhaps my own very real human-ness.

What I do know is that I have been working to arrange a trip with a group of aid-workers to a leper colony about 2 hours outside of Hyderabad for several months.

Since last Saturday I have sent more than one email to the organizers...telling them I want to go, whenever they go next.

Why? Because, I am going to continue to ask myself the hard questions and hopefully grow a little more for it.

I am afraid, but I am also committed to understanding.

India By Numbers

2010-02-06T01:13:00.000-08:00

So, this was orginally posted on my fellow fellow's blog but I read it and thought "I have to share it with my people" (that would be all of you :)). I think it gives you a very good picture of some of the great and important differences between NYC and Mumbai, India. The #'s are actually stolen from the lonely planet.

After reading this I never, ever want to hear any NYer complain about it being crowded or dirty in NYC. Check out the number of public toilets per 1 Million people....

Number of black taxis: about 40,000 (13,000 yellow cabs in NYC

Pop. Density: 29,000 people per sq. km. (10,000 ppl p.sq.km. in NYC)

Avg. Annual Income: Rs48,900 (US$1000)

#. of public toilets for every 1 million people: 17

Percentage of ppl living in slums: 55%

#. of people passing through Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus daily: 2.5 million (compared to 125,000 in Grand Central)

You Know you have been in India a while when...

2010-01-27T20:07:00.000-08:00

Along the lines of the last post, I have inspired myself. So, here is my list of "I know I have been in India quite some time when.."

1) It is 60+ degrees out and I find myself in a wool sweater with a long sleeved shirt underneath and jeans yet still slightly chilled on my ride to work....I have always been a wimp about the cold but India has totally ruined me.

2) Nothing really tastes spicey anymore.

3) You understand what someone means when they say a food has 'heat' (or, in my case, you are beginning to understand)...mangoes and papayas to name a few.

4) You no longer feel angry and self-righteous when a bus nearly hits you while you stand on the SIDE of the road. Rather, you feel very lucky that the driver had good depth perception. (please don't let me die by bus in India!).

5) You no longer negotiate with rickshaws. Rather, when they won't give you your change you grab the money, get out of the riskshaw and allow them to realize that you mean business. It works really well!

6) Whenever you drink water from any type of water bottle you never let it touch your lips.

7) Blowing black snot no longer surprises you...hey, its polluted!

8) You find yourself doing the NOD! Oh yeah, all the time these days.

9) You know that if you order a drink you will need to distinguish between a single or double and that you will have to mix it yourself.

10) As a woman you know that at all security check-points you will need to go see the woman security guard behind the area enclosed with curtains. We be sacred...can't see anyone touching us!

11) When the electricity goes out you hardly notice and certainly don't worry or get upset about it.

12) Water stops working at about 11 PM, if you come home late don't worry about brushing your teeth or washing your face or flushing the toilet.

13) The extrememly loud door bells no longer scare you.

14) Elevators here talk a lot and are very very annoying. "please close the door". Ahhhh...that actually still drives me INSANE.

Okay, that is really just the beginning but you get the point.

I couldn't make this up

2010-01-27T08:26:00.000-08:00

So...after a long period of silence..I am back! Honestly I have been so busy with work that I have had little time to write..and I have been so busy with work - which isn't exactly the most exciting thing to write about. I am going to trust my assumption that you don't really want to hear about my work day :). If you do, just ask and I will fill you in!

What I am going to write about is what I consider to be the TOP 4 STRANGEST JOBS IN INDIA. Now, I don't know if I would call them strange (this is actually quite diplomatic). Some of them are downright disconcerting and other are just laughable. I am going to give my top 4 because the rest just aren't cool enough to warrant making a 'list'.

In India perhaps one of the most pervasive aspects is the amount of labor and therefore, the sheer amount of 'jobs' done. My list of top 4 does not include the street sweepers or the used shoe hawkers or the men who sell nuts and fried goodies or the women who braid and sell flowers to put in your hair. It does not include the people at every stop light who knock on your window (or your knee if it is an open vehicle) and offer you red devil horns (with blinking lights!) no matter what the day is. My list does not include the 5 rupees coconuts hacked open with machetes or the men who will offer you a blessing for a mere 20 Rs. No, my list is much better.

So...to the point. The top 4 strangest jobs in India (maybe ever). Listed from the least bizarre to most disconcerting.

4) The men who sharpen knives using the friction generated by pedaling their bikes. Do you need a sharp knife this morning? Well, fear not, walk onto the street, find one of these men and 10-20 Rs later.. you have a sharp knife. A very compact business since they carry their machinery with them...or rather, their machinery carries them!

3) Roadside Tattoos..This one falls more into the disconcerting category than anything. It took me many days of observing these men during my trip to work plus the experience of having my own tattoos to realize that yes, India, one of the dirtiest places on earth offers roadside tattoos...and real one. Pick your design - bulletin board is located right next to the artist - and ink away. I hope you have had your shots.

3) Roadside Dentists....Fear not, if you have a tooth ache in India there is likely a dentist with a chair somewhere within 10 Km. There is one in particular I think of with a tray of different sized pliers. Once again, downright scary..but true!

1) Drum Roll Please...this one deserves it. The single strangest and most disconcerting job in India: The man who cleans people's ears outside the bus stop near Secunderabad. This is no joke. You need your ear's cleaned? Well...he has q-tips and extra cotton (all hand made of course!). Honestly, makes me a little queasy to think about it, but....its India and you don't have to do anything yourself if you don't want to.

So, there is my short and sweet blog posting. I am hoping it makes you think and chuckle at the same time.

There is no place quite like India and it never ceases to keep me on my toes. Although...I have yet to find someone who will clean these toes on my way to work...hmmm...I guess I just need to give it a little time.

If nothing else, these jobs point to the ever-present entrepreneurial spirit of India. Everyone is figuring out how to make their mark.

That all for now, but I will be back again shortly.

Sankranti

2010-01-15T22:08:00.000-08:00

Hello!

So, there is not too much going on here in India right now outside of work. However, there is one special little holiday which took place this past Thursday, Jan. 14th: SANKRANTI!

For those of you who have read Kite Runner this is the holiday the book is named after. For the past three days the rooftops of India have been filled with children flying kites and the sky has become a beautiful mosaic of kites in all colors, shapes and sizes. I have tried to take pictures but, of course, none of them did any justice and so I will not be posting them. They look like a picture of an overcast sky with some spots in it (which are kites).

Perhaps the most interesting part of the holiday is the competitions which go on among the kite flyer's. On most of the kites, the first 50 yards of string are laced in glass - this is to allow for 'cutting' of other kites. Here, flying kites is an art form and coveted skill. On Thursday, during the celebrations I went to a country club with friends and witnessed some teams of very competitive flyers. These competitions typically lead to lots of sliced fingers as the men pull and struggle with the kites trying to cut their competitors. It is really pretty cool!

I guess it is these types of holidays that really remind you how far from home you are. The energy and enthusiasm with which people fly kites here is sort of baffling to me but it is also a deeply rooted cultural tradition, and one which is slowly losing its meaning to the younger generations of Indians. In fact, this holiday has sparked more then one interesting conversation between myself and my Indian friends/acquaintances. Like any culture going through serious transition and development, here in Hyderabad and likely many other parts of India there is a constant push and pull of old and new: what will be salvaged and what will be left behind.

In some of these conversations I have witnessed a deep sadness among the parents who have seen Hyderabad change so drastically in the past 5-10 years. One parent in particular spoke to me about how much of the culture identity has become an identity of convenience. When talking about Sankranti he described as a child how different it was and how so many more people participated and the real gravity of the holiday. He guessed that participation had dropped by nearly 75% since he was a child.

And I guess behind all the sadness what I see is a real fear. A fear for the identities of their children and the deep set cultural values of 'traditional' India. I see it here everyday as people struggle with their identities as "Non-resident Indians" (Indians who were born in another country but are still of Indian heritage but did not grown up in India). And, the more I witness it the more I realize that this identity crisis might certainly become on of India's most challenging battles yet.

It is inevitable that the culture of India will change as it grows more wealthy, modern and educated. Seldom do people stop to consider what it is they would like to hang onto as they rush in the new. Certainly there are many advantages that come with education and wealth. It is my hope that the women of India will continue to gain traction in the choices they are allowed to make as well as the lives they choose to lead and I know that education and the influence of empowered women from around the world will be nothing but positive. I also know that education is likely the only way to solve population and disease issues as well as maternal and child health challenges.

The truth is India is becoming more and more Westernized (for lack of a better word) and the more developed and large the city is the more Western the people are. I can imagine and empathize with the father who watches his daughter walk the streets in mini-skirts and tank tops in a culture where women have always been considered somewhat 'sacred'. But then, of course, I can't help but realize that this is a form of empowerment, of having choice. The point is, the issue is so very complex and the solution is not clear or obvious and perhaps not something which can be controlled at all. But, I think it is worth thinking on and being aware of. Culture is important and helps to inform identity and values. Every culture has the good and the bad.

What I do know is I would be deeply sad to see the day when Saris weren't seen on every street and rickshaws didn't spot the roadway like ants.

And, it would be tragic to witness the day when no one flew kites during Sankranti.

Trains, buses and rickshaws

2010-01-09T06:14:00.000-08:00

So, I spent this week on a marathon of travel with work. I was off - grid most of the time so that is largely the reason for the lack of correspondence.

I must say, that the travel I did this week was some of the most rigorous and uncomfortable I have ever done. I believe I have now experienced the worst bus ride of my life - yes, it even tops the chicken filled, hot as hell, dirty shit boxes I took across Costa Rica (holler to my cousins!). To be fair, the trains in India are actually quite nice and an easy, cheap way to travel around the country. The over-night trains are particularly good since they allow you to sleep the whole way (not the most comfortable sleep in the world - but, not too shabby either.)

The buses are a whole different story. I spent 4 hours on Wednesday morning of this week (mind you 5 AM - 9 AM) sitting in a seat that rattled so much I felt like I was on top of a jack hammer. For four hours my teeth chattered, my head bobbed and my ears bled as I chartered across India. It was so loud I could not even hear my Ipod at max volume.

The trip went something like this: Monday night overnight train to Rajamundry we work from 9 AM to 9 PM...get dinner plus 4 hours sleepTuesday morning up at 4 AM to catch a 4.5 hour bus to Vijayawada...work from 10 AM to 9 PM, same schedule but up at 5 AM to catch a train to Nellore.Work in Nellore Thursday until 8 PM. Take dinner to catch a train back to HYD at 9:30. Overnight train and back in the office Friday morning! It was intense!

But, I guess the reason I write this post is not to complain about my travel - I am actually estatic to have had the opportunity. The work and travel was intense but I got to see parts of India I may never reach again. There are so many photos I wish I could have taken but most of these sites were viewed through a window-pane (train or bus).

On the bus ride I got to see the sunrise over rice patties and palm trees. I saw the most beautiful flowers and trees. For the first time in India I saw real open space, it didn't smell and there was not honking every second (except for the bus itself).

In large, I saw a part of India which I think is very important for everyone to see. The part that wasn't filthy or crammed and clamouring with people. Yes, there was still abject poverty but it was mixed in with green, wide open spaces. Perhaps it is because of my own background that I appreciated this so much, but it really was breath-taking. This trip for the first time I began to fully appreciate the phrase Increadible! India.

I guess, perhaps the greatness comes from the vastness of this country where both the highest and lowest peaks in the world exist. There is so much diversity and it changes so quickly.

During this trip I also had my favorite drink of India thus far: Lime-Soda water (I don't remember the official name) basically they take fresh squeezed lime juice and mix it with soda water and sugar but it is YUMMY.

A few other realizations I have had about India:
1) There is a deep love for sugar here. Everything that can have sugar added to it has sugar added to it unless you specifically request otherwise.
2) There is a deep love for air-conditioning here. India does not do air-conditioning half-way. If it is on, it is ON. Seriously, half the time there is air conditioning I am freezing to death. Moderation is not of high value here (so far as I can tell).
3) There is not a deep love for coffee (which is pretty typical outside the US but so sad....:(
4) Pedicures are pointless...I refuse from this point forward.
5) There is great oral hygiene in India, people are always brushing their teeth..seriously! Everywhere you go you see someone brushing their teeth.
6) There are lots of sauces...which I kind of like. You get a little buffet at every meal.
7) Indians have a deep dislike for raw vegetables. In fact, all vegetables are cooked to within an inch of their life. The first thing I am having when I get back is a salad. I eat lots of RAW vegetables in my house behind closed doors so no one knows. Ha!

That is all for now. On a side note I broke down and bought a geiser which allows me to have hot showers...I hate being cold.

More soon.

Elephant Island/Bombay New Years..part 2

2010-01-03T23:04:00.000-08:00

So, first a thank you to Suad, Angela and Yehia for sharing your photos. Let it be known that many of these photos are not mine!
Enjoy the pics. Doctor Fish eating the dead skin off my feet. Crazy feeling! Trying to keep your feet in any sort o decent condition in India is pretty much a joke. Doctor fish have no teeth but they feel like a million little bubbles on your feet and they tickle when they go between your toes!

Us, back from Elephant Islnd. Hungry and exhausted.

Back from Elephant Island....I think I am sick of taking pictures :)

Food...Kababs!!! Yeah.

Photo from the peak of Elephant Island.

So, we went to Elephant Island on Saturday and there are lots of monkies on the island.

This is coming back to the gate of India in Bombay after our trip to Elephant Island.

Sunset from the boat coming from Elephant Island back to Bombay.

Leaving Bombay to go to Elephant Island.

Buying train tickets. Please note the crazy schedule of operating hour. Insane.

New Years In Bombay(Mumbai)..part 1

2010-01-03T22:15:00.001-08:00

Hello Everyone and Happy New Year! Can you believe it is 2010...another decade down.

So, I took my first break from Hyderabad to spend time in Bombay for New Years. I stayed with my friend and fellow fellow Yehia for the Holiday. He also had two girl friends of his own in town Angela and Suad. The holiday was supposed to also include Satoko and Sule (the two other fellows based in India) but they both bailed ....boo hiss.

Also, the photos were in order but while posting they got all scrambled. So...Sorry.

All of us in the back of a rickshaw the day after New Years. From left to right: Angela, me, Yehia, Suad. I thinkwe were all a little giddy but it was pretty funny trying to cram four adults into a tiny little tut tut. There were many many pictures taken with Angela's camera.
Another picture.

Angela, holding Bombay Sapphire in Bombay. I think this might be delight!

Another View from the Four Seasons rooftop. Bombay at night.

A view from the rooftop at dusk. Bombay is increadibly polluted. You can see thet thick smog in this photo. I thought Hyderabad smelled but Bombay is at a whole different level. Smells Terribly.

The day after New Years we all went to the rooftop bar (Aer) of the Four Seasons. This bar is nicer than most rooftop bars in NYC. I think this photo is a great example of the economic disparities which exist in India and how blatant they are. This photo is taken from the rooftop and as you can see directly below us are slums...slums like these stretch in every direction as we stand in on the rooftop of one of the most expensive hotels in Bombay. Unbelievable.

The ladies before we went to the rooftop bar. From left to right: Angela, Suad and Me. Consequentally from tallest to shorest as well.

Eating dinner before we went to Aer, the Skybar.

This is New Years Eve and we are all at a house party.

Me and Suad in the market buying yummy fried food. And my arm. Sorry, not a great photo.

A Deeper Understanding

2009-12-29T21:39:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, since my arrival in Hyderabad there as been consistent political/social unrest in and around the city. The 'agitation' is a political dispute grounded in the desire for certain fractions of the society wanting to create separate states within Andhra Pradesh. The official word is "bandh" stemming from the Hindu word for 'closed'. Basically, they shut down the city through their civil unrest.

These agitations are non-violent. The purpose is not to instill fear in the populace rather it is to create leverage within the existing government in the hopes that they will capitulate and create these separate states.

Prior to these experiences I had never had the opportunity to witness and be (sort of) part of a social/civil movement. But, as this situation has unfolded and continued my understanding and appreciation for such movements has grown.

The power of such movements is in their ability to stop the running of day to day life. As I read and hear about the reign of terror in Pakistan I am beginning to realize the vital difference between these two types of disobedience. Here in Hyderabad I feel no fear and therefore I don't necessarily mind supporting the actions of these groups. Furthermore, the government here can safely (from a political standpoint) also support them - they are not killing civilians!

These types of civil disobedience demand dialogue because they strike at the heart of what makes any country or city work: the day to day commerce and operations. Here, now, I am feeling the frustration of never being able to go to work; of canceling meetings, having to leave early or not coming in at all. I can't do my job! But I don't feel fear. Rather, I am annoyed and want the issue resolved. I want resolution so that I and everyone else can continue our day to day lives.

I wouldn't feel this way if I was worried about my local market being bombed or my life being taken from me or the lives of my friends and loved ones. In this situation, I would feel rage and desire revenge (lets be honest!).

And here I have an AH-HA moment (in the words of the Acumen Fund): It is not the challenging of authority or status quo which is the problem (I never thought it was, go for it!); rather, it is the way in which you go about it. Blatant disregard for human life - this is wrong - this strikes not at what makes a city work but at a very primal, gutteral instict: Survival. And, I challenge you all to think of a time when the fear for your SURVIVAL has ever made you desire resolution. Instead, when you worry about surviving your response is to FIGHT BACK it is animalistic and immediate. And when someone takes from you something you love - the response is the same - to fight. Instead of encouraging resolution or change these types of action seem to encourage just the opposite: a desperate clinging to of the way things were, of a given belief system and way of life because anything is better then the way things are going to be or are.

Even worse, when you start a fight based on violence you legitimize any violence inflicted upon you by your opposition. Ergo the phrase: violence begits violence.

Civil disobendience inspires almost exactly the opposite. As the daily mechanisms of the city fall apart resolution becomes urgent and necessary and valid. As a citizen I am not fearful and my safety has not been threatened so I do not resent creating a resolution, I appreciate it and perhaps see it as my government doing its job: managing the society. Furthermore, I would see any violence inflicted upon these separatists as unfounded, illegitimate and wrong. Here, the only solution is resolution.

So, as I sit here today with the city shut down around me I realize that inside all this chaos is certain opportunity - at the very least, to learn and hopefully/potentially to affect change.

I certainly do not know the solution to the troubles of Pakistan or Afghanistan or any other such situation. But what I believe is that dialogue and communication seem to be of the utmost importance in situations like these. I also know that as the violence continues we are all pushing ourselves further away from every reaching any sort of basic undertstanding of each other and the world around us. We are polarizing an issue which needs exactly the opposite. Only through understanding is empathy formed. And, what we really really need is some empathy.

So, I sit back and ask perhaps the most important question: What is desired by these militant groups - really, what is the aim? I am sure the answer is not simple and may never be but what I want and need to believe is that all of us, being human, value life and its dignity and see some sanctity in both. If not, what is holding us together as the world unites us?

Christmas In India + Photos

2009-12-27T01:50:00.001-08:00

Merry Christmas everyone and I hope you are all enjoying your holidays and the time off of work. My Christmas was rather uneventful but I guess that is to be expected when most people do not celebrate :(.

If nothing else, it serves as a reminder of how important family is and how much you miss them when you don't have the option of being part of the celebration. Tomorrow is back to work for me and for lack of having anything better to put up I have posted some pictures which you might enjoy. Everyone loves pictures - right!

This is Dr. Rama Devi and her moped. She and I drive around on this moped when we go to visit different hospital locations. Dr. Rama is also giving me a crash course in OB care and what causes fetal distress, c-sections and poor clinical outcomes. I feel like I am in medical school when I am with her!

These are the two baby goats right by my office. They are pretty darn cute!

This is an up close shot of one of them.

This is me and Jane. Jane is from Canada and has lived in Hyderabad for 7 years. She has been a good friend to me here.

From left to right is Padma (head of HR at LifeSpring); Doctor Vasenta Theodore (Head Doctor at LifeSpring) and Doctor Rama Devi (Head of Quality Control at LifeSpring). This is Christmas Eve and we are all at a gathering at Dr. Vasenta house. These three ladies are some of my favorites!

This is Sam and he is the son of Dr. Theodore (pictures above). As is typical for Indian families Sam lives with his wife and his mother as well as many other extended family members in the same home or unit of homes. The party was at their house and we were on the roof (you can see the fire in the background).

This is me and Dr. Vasenta - Dr. V is who performed the C-section I witnessed. She has been very good to me during my time at LifeSpring. Still working on seeing the natural birth but I am sure that day will come.

From Left to Right is Padma (pictures above); Priya (the wife of the CEO of LifeSpring) and Sam's wife. The Sari Sam's wife is wearing is the type worn only during the holidays since it silk with a great deal of hand work. Beautiful!

So, there is a bit about my holidays. Nothing too special but perhaps gives you an idea of what my day to day looks like!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Meghan

Ugh...

2009-12-21T21:42:00.001-08:00

So, I must say with all honesty that although I am doing my best to keep my head up and my heart in check the homesickness is still blighting my body to a certain extent.

Lately, each day has been a bit of a roller coaster of emotions ranging from apathy to anger to love. My rickshaw driver, who had been such a life saver to me and eliminated part of my life which was very aggrevating (nogotiating with rickshaw drivers) has gone completely AWOL and today showed up at my door demanding money. I asked him where he had been for the last week and he told me he had been too sick to call (and also apparently too sick to even tell his sister who is our maid that he was sick). However, he was apparently NOT too sick to walk to my apartment and demand money. As you might have guessed, this did not go over well. I told him that if he could manage to get to my apartment tomorrow I would pay him then.

I have decided to buy a moped. The rickshaw drivers and me are like oil and water - perhaps both of us are a bit too unwilling to let go of our money :). I guess, if nothing else I have to admire their gumption. Honestly, anyone who can out-stubborn me deserves a medal. They are little shits! If only we could create some sort of team - they drive one hell of a bargain.

Then there are the moments like last night where the rickshaw driver taking me home got lost and what should have taken about a half-hour took 1.5 hours. At first I was angry (rickshaws have that effect on me!) and then, eventually, I just started to laugh and the driver just turned to me and threw his hands in the air and we just both laughed together. Of course, he then proceded to demand way more money than he deserved and I gave him the money on the meter and walked away...but we HAD our laugh!

More than anything, I keep reminding myself that the world is not centered around me. Rather, the world is how I choose to perceive it and as long as I can control my perceptions and remind myself that what is happening is largely not about me...I will be okay. After all, it is these very experiences which will allow me to see the world through a new lens - one which is about being a minority in a country where the rules of engagement are so very different then what I understand and appreciate. But, good lord, this is so very hard.

There are those moments of increadible lightness when I see an infant laying in the dirt by the side of the road while its mother is begging at my feet and I know, with infinite certainty that these experiences will change my life forever. That my perceptions of need and dignity and sanctity of life will forever shift to include the realities of these people - and appreciate my own much more.

If nothing else, life is about experience. It is only through experience that we can grow and understand and realize that the world is spinning vastly outside of our control - that the very most we can do is hold onto what we value and integrate that into what we see. My greatest success will be to learn through these experiences rather than to conquer them.

So, perhaps what I am struggling with the very most is this element of surrender. Of understanding that in order to survive I will have to recognize that India is not about me; rather, it is about how I perceive it, how I sift through the daily barrage of experiences and sensations and disappointments. I am learning but perhaps not as gracefully as I would like.

At the end of the day I remind myself that I chose this: the struggle and the bliss. And I also remind myself that by choosing this some part of me, conscious or not, knows what is best for me, what will bring me closer to the type of person I imagine myself to be.

I am moving closer to consciousness as we speak.
Rickshaw drivers beware!

Sensational

2009-12-17T23:42:00.000-08:00

So, I have been inspired to write this blog for a number of reasons.

I believe I have done a rather good job of describing to you the sights of India and providing some of them in pictures. What I realize I have failed in giving you is all of the other sensory experiences which are India.

Let it be said that India is a full time sensory assault. And, when I say assault, I mean ASSAULT.

Lets begin with the smells: The broad overview is that India is a melting pot of development, affluence, poverty and agrarianism. The sheer number of animals (large and small) running freely about India is actually quite endearing (at least for me). For instance, there is a herd (6-8) of water buffalo which wonder about Chilkalguda (the area where my office is located). Outside my office there are also several goats and one family in particular which is a Mom with two twin kids. They are really cute! There are also goats tied up to each random tree and every once in a while you one goes missing (or you find it hanging at the local butcher shop). Lets not forget the somewhat rarer dairy (Holstein) cow as well as the cats, dogs, chickens and sheep. These animals typically act as scavengers and feast on the local piles of garbage or whatever else might serve as food. Such a pretty picture...right.

Well...now imagine what this might smell like.

They are EATING PILES OF GARBAGE. They are openly defecating and roaming around the city at will. Goats smell! They smell badly. Cows are large and produce a great deal of.....you know what. Chickens are dirty and Indian poverty chickens are even dirtier.

India smells...and most of the time it smells badly. My ride to work is a hero's journey ranging from gasping on the fumes of carbon monoxide & dioxide to choking on the stench of open human and animal defecation. Sometimes the smell of goat is so strong you can feel it resting on your tongue - you may as well have licked it.

This is all mixed with local venders who fry food from dawn to dusk. And lets not forget the butcher shops where meat hangs out in the open all day in 80 degree heat.

And then there is the random stench of burning trash, burning land and burning coal or wood.

Heat augments smell. I am sorry India, but you smell!

There is the random reprieve of incense. I have come to believe that incense was created for the sole purpose of masking the intense smells of India! And sometimes it works but even this seems overpowering. There are days I am walking up the stairs to my apartment and am nearly bowled over by the wafting of incense fumigating the apartment building.

India doesn't do smells in moderation. You are either choking on shit or choking on sandalwood.

Now that I have given you the abbreviated rundown of the smells lets move onto sounds.

India is loud and cacophonous. Horns are sounding all day and all night: seriously. India is a place where honking is not only welcome but encouraged. The traffic is so bad and so erratic and the drivers so bold that honking is basically saying: "I am here, I will try not to hit you if you try not to hit me." Somehow it works...with the random love tap in between. There is no standardization of horns. For instance, my rickshaw driver (who has become increasingly wayward) has a blow horn on his rickshaw. Basically, he squeezes it with his right hand while he drives with his left. The buses have the worst horns by far. Horns which make me cover my ears and shudder as they pass me in my little rickshaw. Sounds which make your ears bleed. India is full of loud, intimidating, constant, brash and brutish sounds.

The call to prayer is the incense of India's world of sound. Each day (5 times daily) the world of India is quieted and then uplifted by the (Muslim) call to prayer. I can't really describe this sound but it is a loud, hollow horn which sounds distant and spiritual. I like it very much.

Indian's are also people of song and music. You will often hear sellers singing the song of their sales and an eerie, hollow voice.

So, all in all the sights and sounds of India are like the rest of it: incongruous, unforgiving and unforgettable.

Hope this helps to complete the picture.

My Choice

2009-12-15T09:03:00.000-08:00

Despite how much you are prepared for it or how much you know it is going to happen; despite all the internal coaching and self-talk, there is nothing which will ever prepare you for feeling homesick. I have been rather quite lately because I have been homesick and then I decided perhaps I should just write about it since it is all I really think about and then I started thinking about it some more and realized I had to write.

Homesickness always strikes about 3.5 weeks in...when everything is no longer bright and shiney and the fact that you can't drink tap water suddenly drives you insane and you become angry at your boyfriend because he doesn't seem to be emailing enough (how dare he ever not be thinking of you!) and you refuse to answer calls because it just seems like too much work - and really who wants to hear your dithering anyway. You feel left-out, forgotten and suddenly VERY FAR from home. Lets just say it doesn't always bring out the best in people. The best you can really do is take it, put it outside yourself, acknowledge it and let it go. The holidays don't help either. Breathe.

Tonight, I began to think of my homesickness in a bit of a different light. It sort of all began when one of my fellow fellow's mentioned that he had a friend coming into town. When he said this, I felt jealous...he always has friends coming into town! (but it also made me reflect). He and I come from extremely different backgrounds. He has spent nearly his entire life traveling, he speaks three languages and perhaps (dare I put words in his mouth) his greatest fear is staying any one place too long. I, on the other hand come from pretty much one place. Most of my entire family comes from that one place and most of them do not possess passports (but some are working on it!). Perhaps my greatest fear is getting stuck.

He has friends visiting because his friends are from all around the world. They all own passports and probably have had to have them refilled more than once. These people are likely not just traveling for work - they are traveling because it is part of their culture, their identity.

I will never have this reality. I will never have a revolving door of visitors. My people, as part of their culture and identity, stay put.

Viewed through this lens, my choice to do this, to travel this far is much different then my friend's choice. This is not a judgement but a realization that people have tried to point out to me before and I have just never fully appreciated.

As I have been writing this blog I have been continually thrilled and honored by the enthusiasm with which people have read it. The responses have been a huge part of me keeping it up. What I have come to believe is that part of my journey is sharing this experience with all the people in my life who will never, ever see India. It is bringing something to their doorstep in a way which works inside their culture. I believe it is also a way of making the world a little smaller and allowing people the opportunity to have understanding and empathy for something which is so outside their own reality yet coming in the words and voice of someone who understands them. It is also allowing that brave someone the opportunity to visit..if they want. And, I am honored for that opportunity.

My choice, coming from a culture where leaving home is not extremely common and where many have lived in the same state or within the same two hour distance their entire life, is to be the one to leave. It is a choice which has not been easy and which has involved both sacrifice and risk, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

So, I will remain homesick and I will envy my friend who has an eternal list of visitors but I will also keep writing because I know people are reading.

And, of course, I will secretly hope that one or all of you will decide to visit.

The Ugly

2009-12-09T06:56:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, one of the best things about working at LifeSpring is the fact that whenever you are feeling a bit down you can go two floors down and check in on the clients (mothers and babies) of the hospital.

On Saturday as I was trying to leave the hospital (due to the political agitation) I had the wonderful opportunity to see the mother and child of whom I witnessed the C-section. The mother was there for a post-surgical check up.

An older woman, who I would soon learn was the mother's mother immediately handed the newborn to me. She looked so much better and was beautiful in every sense of the word. She now has a full head of hair. Perhaps the most interesting or amazing thing about her was the way she slept...with such intention. Having never been around a newborn, I have never realized how intently they sleep...as if this is her only job on earth - to sleep. Her little hands were clenched in tight fists and as I looked at her I couldn't help but sort of fall in love with the little thing. She was spectacular.

I turned to the mother, "she is beautiful."

The mother solemnly replied, "she is?"

"Yes, she is looking so healthy and happy," I said.

The mother then looked at me and said, "No one has come to see her - my husband and his family refuse to see her because they are angry and upset she is a girl."

To this point, I simply did not know how to reply. What do you say? All I could think was here is a perfect little human being who is, thus far, unmarked by life...but is she really?

Coming from the Western world, I once again was forced to swallow the reality of my luxuries. In India, the male child is still out rightly favored. He eats before the female child, he goes to school before the female child and he is valued more than the female child - end of story. This gender bias is a major catalyst to mal-nutrition issues as well as many others. In India, it is illegal (atleast on paper) to have any test performed which identifies the sex of the child because of the ever existing risk of female infanticide.

And these thoughts don't even touch on the way it must feel to the mother of the child who is a female herself and THE MOTHER OF THE CHILD.

As I am holding this baby all I can think is how ridiculous this whole notion is and all I can wonder at is how this still exists eventhough I fully understand why it exists and the history behind these types of cultural bias.

I continue to hold the child and just say "she is happy and healthy and that is what matter." But now I sort of feel like a fraud because, clearly, this is not all that matters. In fact, what matters most is that she is a girl.

The mother slowly dabs away of couple of tears and remains eerily quiet. She is neither disagreeing or agreeing with me. She is just there - she is just stuck here a week after major surgery with an infant no one feels is good enough.

"Is this your first baby?"

"Yes."

"Will you have another?"

"I don't' know," she shrugs as she looks away from me.

And as she looks away she puts her hand on top of mine and I turn to her and say, "It will be okay."

And, honestly, from that moment forward I have been thinking on that coy little phrase: "it will be okay." Here I am, white, educated, free and female. Who am I to say this. In reality, it might very well not be okay. It is not okay now, in this moment. This mother has been abandoned, thus far, by the father of her child. She has been made to feel inadequate, unworthy and shamed. This child, so small I am holding her in the palm of my hand, has hardly began life and yet she has already been condemned to a certain reality: FEMALE.

I don't know why I said "it will be okay." The more I think on it, the more I begin to believe that I likely said it more for myself than for this mother.

Bandh

2009-12-09T05:48:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the delay in posting the past five days have been filled with many new experiences so I have quite a lot to write about but no time to write. Here I am at last!

Saturday, December 5th was a bit of a scary day. What started off as a normal working day led to an evacuation of my office at about 4 PM. There was rioting in the city, buildings had been burned and there was SOME violence targeted toward white people (or so I was told). Most of the agitation had happened near where I am living so the roads getting home were completely blocked. My rickshaw driver was trying to pick me up but everyone at my office was worried about my safety riding home in a rickshaw.

In the end, I was taken home in the back of an ambulance (got to play a basic game of hide the white girl).

The riots are politically funded and rooted in the desire of some of the populace wanting two separate states formed out of the single existing state Andhra Pradesh. The chief of the separation party began fasting last week and was admitted to ICU on Saturday, feuling the initial riots, he remains in ICU with a worsening condition and has refused to take any sort of nourishing fluids, etc.

This article gives a brief synopsis of what is going on and the fact that the violence, rioting and agitation is supposed to continue: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/TRS-chiefs-condition-worsens-turmoil-in-Andhra/articleshow/5317745.cms

This leads us to the word Bandh: A Bandh is originally a Hindi word meaning 'closed' and essentially means that the city is expected to close-down tomorrow...it is essentially a lock-down. We were on a 48+ Bandh from Saturday - Monday of this week and are now having another tomorrow.

Bandhs, in a nutshell, suck. Nothing is open, there is nothing to do, and people are encouraged to not go anywhere. BORING.

So, all in all this has been a real experience in what it is like to live in a culture where things are slightly unstable. That being said things are really not that bad - more of a nuicance than anything. My thoughts are more with my friends who are currently placed in Lahore, Pakistan where the bombings of Moon Market have recently shaken a previously rather secure area. If you say any prayers, pray for them and their safety.

Meghan

More Photos: Bathroom and Rickshaw - Gonna try for the video as well!!

2009-12-04T23:01:00.001-08:00

I put this photo in because it should be noted that 1) This man is probably committing some sort of unspoken crime given that he only has 2 people on is motorcycle. Typically there are 4-5 on one motorcycle or moped. I will try to get a photo of that. 2) One of the craziest thing about India is that almost no one wears a helmet. You see all the time whole families on a motorcyle in the middle of horrible traffic with LITTLE children sitting on their laps and infront of them with no protection of anykind. I am just waiting for the day I see my first horrific accident. Honestly, it is crazy. I took this photos on my way to work.

This is my rickshaw and rickshaw driver Chanti. He was very excited to have his picture taken. I sit in the backseat. The vehicle is very small (I am probably taller than it!). If we get in an accident I am totally screwed. Say prayers for Chanti and I. We have lots of traveling ahead of us.

This is my bathroom...note the US toilet. The thing used to spray off your 'regions' is hanging on the wall next to the toilet. Showers are not separate in India so it is located between the toilet and the sink. The floor just gets soaked and dries during the day. The red and white bucket on the floor slightly hidden by the sink is filled with water that I use to rinse out my hair since the water pressure is not strong enough. Get ready for when you visit. It is like camping!

A couple of other notes...

1) Another crazy thing aout India is that a sacred symbol here is the swastika...yes the one bastardized by Hitler. It is really interesting because you see it on graves and on bumper stickers and as a symbol in many places. It takes a little adjustment to get used to seeing swastikas everywhere. They date back to the Neolithic period and are a very popular symbol in many eastern religions.

2) One of the best things about working at LifeSpring is that when you are feeling a little down or just need a break from stuff I can walk down 2 floors and visit the BABIES. No, I am not baby crazy but it is pretty great. I mean, honestly.

Photos: My House

2009-12-04T21:10:00.000-08:00

So...the internet connections here are very bad. I couldn't upload the videos so am trying pictures. They will likely take the next 2 hours to get onto the site but I guess that is fine since I am at work and can just let it keeeeeeep loading.

It should be noted that I pay less than $200/month for this apartment. There are 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. Go India!! Feel the rub NYers.

Cross your fingers.

Pictures..Arg to slow internet

2009-12-04T08:52:00.000-08:00

Me, Myself and I

2009-12-04T08:04:00.000-08:00

So..the good news is my camera is back up and working. In fact, it is what has inspired this blog!

I thought it was high time that you got a picture of my roommate, a couple videos of where I am living and some photos of the ever-impressive clothing. So..attached you will find it all!

I am doing very well. Work is proving to be very demanding but in a good way. I am pulling a six day work week at about 10 hours/day. I am currently involved in four different projects:

1) Customer coversion from prospects to out patient (OP) customers (coming to the clinic for prenatal check-up, etc) and from OP customers to In patient (IP) customers (actually having their baby at the clinic). With a little luck tomorrow I will get to witness my first natural child birth (cross your fingers). The female head doctor at the clinic where I am placed loves me and is always trying to get me into surgeries which is super fantastic.

2 & 3) My second and third project is first working with the NHS to develop a clinical scorecard and second doing this for a developing country hospital (which is qutie challenging - there is zero data and no benchmarks).

4) My four project is working with the IHI (Institute for Health Improvements working out of Boston/Harvard University) to look into perinatal care and the effects of oxytocin on fetal duress. This is quite interesting.

My days range from doing hard-core data analysis of our existing customer base to speaking with the clinical staff about defining key performance indicators for the hospital and its expansions.

My overarching job falls under the label of "business intelligence" (pretty fancy!) but my day to day is very varied.

I am having a great time getting to know my associates and am learning a lot through teaching.

I am very proud of myself for negotiating with a local rickshaw driver who I am paying monthly to drive me to and from work. This elliminates the hassle of haggling every day and provides positive incentives to him to get me there as fast and efficiently as possible. I will get a picture of him and his rickshaw tomorrow. He sings while he drives me! He also has the same friend with him every morning which is pretty neat. The friend practices something called Sabarimala . Actually you see them all over Hyderabad. They wear only black and go only barefoot. They spend 40 days obstaining from all pleasures which includes taking cold showers every day - I say this because I TAKE a cold shower every day (does this mean I am half of one of them). I would go barefoot if it brought me even closer! hehe

In this blog I also want to say Happy Birthday to Chris. I love you honey! He turns VERY ELDERLY on Sunday.

Next week all of the fellows stationed in India are meeting in Hyderabad at the Acumen Fund country office for debriefing, etc. I am very excited to see familiar faces and just catch up with them all.

Enjoy the pictures and videos.
Scatter Joy!
Meghan

This Will Move You.

2009-12-02T09:41:00.000-08:00

Hello Everyone,

So, I am hoping that some or most of you can take the time to view the video link below.
The link is of a presentation the Acumen Fund Fellows Class of 2010 (my class) had to give the night before we all flew out to our designated investments.

I am in it and looking pretty fugly if I must say so myself. I swear I didn't put on 20 pounds!

Nonetheless, the video is a great way to witness the diversity of my cohort as well as get an idea of what being an Acumen Fund Fellow is all about.

I think you will all enjoy it.

The lady at the beginning is Blair Miller and she manages the program. She is grrreat!

On a final note, it is so wonderful reading people's comments and knowing you are enjoying this. I would like to ask you all, as readers, what questions you might have that perhaps I could answer. It is so interesting to see what sparks people's attention! So...please tell me what you would like to hear!
Enjoy the video. I am positive you will find it moving.
http://fora.tv/2009/11/17/Acumen_Fund_The_Talent_Gap_A_Leadership_Opportunity#Presentation_of_the_2010_Acumen_Fund_Fellows

Back To Basics

2009-12-01T08:14:00.000-08:00

So, there is not a whole lot to write about these past couple of days since I have been pretty much just working...so nothing too exciting. However, I realized that I have not answered some basic questions which perhaps I took for granted since I am living it:

1) Clothing
A couple of points to make on this. So, most Westerners associate the sari as the main dress for women in India. The truth is, the Sari is typically worn by married women only and it is also shows much more skin then I ever thought. The Sari is exactly 3 meters of cloth -the most beautiful cloth on the planet I might add. To wear the sari you must be able to wrap this 3 meters of cloth around you body from toe to shoulder with nothing but tucks and fold. Honestly, simply impossible for someone who is about 6 feet. The only other component to the Sari is a tiny little top. The top covers only the bra and typically has cap sleeves (For the boys reading this that means sleeves which go just over your shoulder) So...the sari actually leaves most of the torso bare. Interesting given the the culture is conservative. I would feel very uncomfortable working while wearing something which exposed my entire toros (with just one broad band of fabric stretching from the waist to the shoulder diagonally).

What do I wear...the Kaftan. The kaftan is nothing close to the sari. It is the ugly step child of the sari...the sari's armpit. I am guessing most know what a kaftan is but it is an over-shirt which drops down to your knees for the purpose of covering your bum. The 'shirt' has large slits which go up both sides to about the waistline. This allows for a lot of air-flow and breathing ability. Typically, the kaftan has 3/4 length or long sleeves and is very conservative in nature. It is rather shapeless but I must say it is extremely comfortable. I now have five. The prints are nothing as wonderful as the sari's (remember, the armpit) but some are pretty nice. The kaftan is paired with a pair of Indian leggings. The leggings are cotton and also extremely comfortable. However, they are rather bizarre. They are very roomy on top and sort of sag around the crotch/thigh area but are very tight at from the knee down. All Indian pants are tight at the bottom because the streets are so dirty - you do not want anything dragging. period.
They are so long (yes, even on me) that they bunch a lot at the ankles, which is the style. When you look at them when they are not being worn they look like clown pants. I have one cream pair and one black pair and five kaftans...is that too much information.

The final note about Indian clothing is that it is, by far, the most comfortable clothing I have worn. I might not be singing this tune when I have to wear pants and long sleeves in 110 degree heat but for now it is working just fine.

Men here wear western clothing. In fact, they dress just like men in America. As a Western woman I could wear Western clothing but it would lead to much more leering and staring in general. Also, my clients are very poor and traditional and I think wearing clothing familiar to them and their culture helps to bridge the gap.

2) The Food
In general, everywhere in the world consumes less food than America. The portion sizes are smaller, the availability is less. Hyderabad actually has quite a few American chains. The most popular, by far, is Subway...which is great for me since I don't eat fast food. Otherwise, there is a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables. Bread is not a part of the Indian diet. The main carbohydrate is rice. The other carb is chapati which is a tortilla of sorts made of whole grains and typically spinach mixed in. The chapati is the Indian tortilla.

Hyderabad is famous for 2 dishes: kebabs (goat, lamb or chicken, cow be sacred! Yummy). The other is Biryani which is a jasmine rice dish mixed with lamb or goat and lots of spices. I had homemade briyani last week and it was superb.

Eggs are also very popular in Hyderabad. This makes me happy because they are one of my favorite foods!

Most days I eat fruit, rice and eggs. My diet is mostly vegetarian here with the random kebab mixed in.

Things I miss: nachos, mexican food, cheese, grapes, hummus (I can't find hummus! who thought) champagne and steak and of course the random box of mac n cheese. I think that about covers my diet outside India. They DO have tofu here.

Hint, hint to those who visit..champagne please!

Okay, that is all for now.

Discrimination

2009-11-28T20:47:00.000-08:00

I have grown up with the luxury of never having been discriminated against for the color of my skin, my sexual orientation or religious views, etc. The only sense in which I am a minority is that I am a woman and I have personally felt that this has not been a huge (if any) hinderance to me. (I know that this paragraph alone might cause great debate but I urge you to keep reading and get into semantics later.)

It was not until I reached India that I gained any appreciation for what it might be like to be discriminated against for the color of your skin. Here, the way I am treated by a large percentage of the population is largely dictated by the fact that I am white. Because I am white the immediate assumptions are I am: 1) rich (which I am not), 2) naive (which I might be) and 3) to be taken advantage of (which infuriates me).

In the past week I have been closely examining myself and my own emotions in relation to the (different) way in which I am treated. Perhaps the worst thing about India, or the thing I loathe most, is the fact that I can't get an honest deal on anything...ever. The minute I am seen is the minute the price shoots up by 5 or 10 times the amount it would be for anyone born here. I go to join a gym and the price is 5,500 Rs per month (about 110US$). I have my roommate who is Telugu call them and she gets a price of 1,300 Rs (about 20 US$). I try to buy food at the market and one cucumber costs $2. Someone else goes out and gets it for 25 cents. The examples are limitless but the point is not really in the examples.

The point is that I am beginning to understand how and why something like discrimination breeds anger and frustration and eventually rage. Why...because these things make me angry and frustrated. I am angry that false assumptions are being made about me (and my wealth, etc) and frustrated by the fact that I can't seem to find someone who will give me an honest answer to anything and I fell rage toward myself for feeling these things as well as toward the people who are doing them.

Then I find myself thinking back and imagining what it must have been like to have been African-American during Jim Crow laws or even now. Or how it must have felt to be Japanese-American after the bombing at Pearl Harbor when the internment camps were formed. The examples are likely endless but the feelings of helplessness are the same.

I feel helpless and exhausted by this experience which repeats itself everyday and which will continue to repeat itself everyday while I am here. Perhaps the saving grace is that I, unlike others, have individuals like my roommate who are willing to negotiate gym fees for me. These people become guardian angels as they allow you to navigate this culture. These are the people which allow you to love the culture despite the fact that you can't get a fair shake.

C-Section, I Saw

2009-11-28T19:56:00.000-08:00

Hello Everyone, sorry for the delay in postings here but just got a little busy and a little sick. I figure the cold is to be expected when you travel half-way around the world.

On Wednesday night, November 25th I witnessed my first Cesarean section (c-section) and thus live birth. I don't think I am going to do this one justice by words but I am going to give it a try.

To begin, the whole experience was a weird combination of beauty and gore. I don't know how many of you out there have had the opportunity to witness a surgery first hand...for me, this surgery was my first. Let me begin by saying that for any who's major reference is Grey's Anatomy or ER or some other 'doctor' show...you haven't seen anything. Those shows do not, in the the least, prepare you for what real surgery looks like.

A couple of other thoughts before I go into some detail:
1) Witnessing a c-section is the best medicine for convincing someone that a c-section is not a good idea. The procedure is incredibly invasive.
2) It would be my guess that witnessing a c-section (or perhaps any surgery) is also a great way to argue the detriments of obesity. In this particular surgery they had to cut through quite a bit of fat...and it makes a big difference.

"Have you ever seen a surgery before?" the doctor asked me.
"No."
"Do you think you are going to faint?"
"No" I reply, confident that I can handle anything...how bad can it really be - right?

The particular patient had a lung infection so it was too dangerous to put her under general anesthesia. The whole evening began at 10:15 PM with a spinal tap which, already, made me squirm. Watching someone who is seemingly awake have a 2 inch needle bore into their spinal cord is no easy thing. All you can think is: "Are they feeling any of this? They can't be, they would be screaming."

The moment I was least prepared for was the initial cut, I don't know if anyone who is virgin to the operating room could ever be prepared for this. The scalpel hits the skin and slices through it like butter (or ripe melon), and you realize how animal we all are underneath that skin. How all the moving parts are just that..moving parts. The first 4 inches or so are fat...yellowish with tints of pink and coagulated together. It takes several long slices to hit the first layer of muscle. Here, the surgeon slows for a bit and cuts a bit more carefully and the muscle gives way to more muscle. As the opening gains depth clamps are added to stop the bleeding. Her stomach is now a gaping hole. It takes what seems like about 6 inches before they hit any organs. Now, the cutting is slow and purposeful.

The slice in the uterus is about 8 inches long. The surgeon reaches in with her gloved hand and the doctor standing at the head of the women begins pushing down hard on her stomach from the top. The push and pull continues for about a minute.

And then, the doctor's hand emerges slowly with the infant. The baby is received by a nurse who brings it immediately to a pediatrician in the room next door.

The next hour I spend between watching the baby, who is in duress and watching the surgeon close up the mother.

It was not really until witnessing this surgery and the birth that I fully understood the magic or miracle behind child birth (the thing everyone talks about). It is not just the size of the newborn, in fact, I don't know how much of it has anything to do with the size of the newborn. What it is about is this feeling of endless hope and potential. As you look down at this tiny shriveled little thing all you can think is how much life they have ahead of them and how much they could do with that life...and you can't really think about anything else. It is joy and hope. That is what I felt. You begin to understand the celebration of life.

Back in the operating room the placenta has been removed as one large slab of bloody goo. The uterus has been pulled outside the body cavity and is laying on the women's stomach as the stitch shut the 8 inch opening.

The pediatrician is with the baby who is not breathing well. He has tubes going down the baby's nose attempting to suction out mucus from the lungs and allow for more crying and better breathing. The baby is tiny 2.25 kilos..about 5 lbs.

When I get back to the operating room the doctor is putting in the second set of stitches at the muscle layer over the uterus. The final set of stitches is the top layer or initial incision.

I go back to see the baby and it now has an oxygen mask on. The pediatrician informs me that the baby's lungs are in duress because the mother didn't have enough fluid in her uterus.

He lets me touch the baby now. I reach out and put my finger on the palm of its little hands. She seems so fragile and vulnerable. Her eyes are shut and when I touch her hand and stroke her arm she seems slightly soothed. Her skin is soft and brand-new. Her hands are still wrinkled from the watery world from which she just emerged. She is pretty damn cool!

The night ends as abruptly as it began and I am left sitting at the hospital trying to digest what I just witnessed. I call my sister and try to put into words what I just saw. How gruesome the surgery was paired with how beautiful the baby is.

I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity to have seen this. I am now committed to witnessing a natural birth as well...which I have been told is actually much more difficult to witness.

All in all, an experience I wouldn't trade in for the world. It is my intention that I will have many more to come during my year here.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

The Missing Photos from Field Visit and a bit more

2009-11-26T18:37:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Holidays are always a bit tough when you are abroad - particularly when they come so shortly after you have left. However, I did go a Thanksgiving party here which was pretty amazing. Now, it is Friday morning and I am getting ready to head back to work!

I have much to write about but will have to be doing it over the weekend since I don't have time now.

For now....some nice pretty pictues.

To follow: my first ever c-section and birth, my day at a public hospital, general thoughts.

Keep Reading.

The Photos...Shoot Me

2009-11-24T02:09:00.001-08:00

Photos & Video for Last Post..

2009-11-24T01:59:00.000-08:00

For some reasont things did not show up with the last post. Here are the photos, etc I wanted to add.

My camera is dead...the battery is out. I have called in for back-ups. If anyone has a camera they want to send to India let me know. Things be super expensive here. Bummer!!

LifeSpring Hospitals: Why I'm Here

2009-11-24T00:56:00.000-08:00

Some of you may be uncertain why I am suddenly writing a blog from India. The reason I am here is to work for LifeSpring Hospitals which is a chain of maternal and child health clinics in India www.lifespringhospitals.com The reason I am at LifeSpring is because I was awarded a fellowship through the Acumen Fund www.acumenfund.org

A quick education: India's healthcare situation lags behind other countries that have experienced similar economic expansion and GDP growth, namely the group of countries with the fastest growing developing economies, known as BRIC (Brazil, Russia, Inda, China). The poor situation is reflected on all health indicators from immunization among 1 year olds to high disease prevalence. India suffers from a crippling shortage in the healthcare workforce, a growing social inequality and a country-wide infant mortality rate of 57 deaths per 1000 live births. India has the highest IMR (infant mortality) and MMR (maternal mortality) among BRIC countries (2008 data).

LifeSpring's Role
LifeSpring Hospitals has developed a business which serves only poor women and their children. The model is proving to be not only sustainable but scalable. In 2010 LifeSpring plans to build 9 hospitals (with my help!). The hospitals are small (25-30) beds. In a country where maternal and child health is a massive issue LifeSpring Hospitals is providing one working solution.
Alright...enough with the plug.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about LifeSpring is their approach to marketing. Here, pregnant women are considered customers and not patients (pregnancy is not a disease!). Today, I spent time in the field with the Outreach Workers (on the ground marketers) for LifeSpring. The experience was rewarding and intense.

To begin I have never felt more tall, white or LARGE in general. (see photos of nurses with me today as well as video of them refusing to do the nod!)

The customers of LifeSpring are poor. They are not the poorest of India but near the bottom. Seeing where they live was eye-opening and educational. In these parts of India it was very clear that white people are seldom seen. From the start I had children and families following me through the dilapidated neighborhoods. Everyone was extremely curious about my presence and what I was doing. Children came up to me to touch me and stand in lines to introduce themselves.

The native language here is Telugu and few understand Hindi at all. Communication was pretty much non-existent. That being said, it was very clear everyone was basically saying: “come over here and meet the white lady.”

The children were beautiful, shy and curious. The women were cautious and luminous. (see photos)

The households here are not ruled by the young pregnant woman, but by the older woman of the household (typically the mother-in-law). Imagine that! These women were the gatekeepers.
What we did was essentially sell maternal and child health care door to door. I know this sounds crazy (and it was!). The fact that this is possible gives you an idea of the sheer number of pregnant woman in India.
What is important is that without a service like LifeSpring these women are forced to go to government hospitals where care is poor, not free (although promised this way) and without dignity. LifeSpring is offering them a choice and these women are listening.

Today I learned a lot about dignity and how it is maintained in the settings which seem hopeless. The areas we serve have no running water, animals running rampant and garbage laying in the streets. Despite the dirt and poverty what I did find was a beauty and dignity: the henna hands and painted toe-nails of even the youngest girls. The ever-lasting brilliant colors of India – The way women sat together braiding one another’s hair into ropes of ebony.
Most interesting to me was the way they were all finger painting their houses and ‘sidewalks’…this is difficult to describe. When you go to these homes you realize that they are all decorated with red, white and blue designs around the doorways, bases and entrances to the homes. This is done by the people who live there. They essentially paint it on by wetting colored powders and finger-painting (see photo). The beauty and uniqueness of each home does not go un-noticed.
I also saw dignity in the way they swept the paths between the homes. Despite the relative squalor the street was clean.
What I do know is that being pregnant in these settings cannot be easy, but somehow these women make it seem that way.

On a lighter note - I got serious hazing because I had been dating someone for 3 years and not married them. These ladies think I am incompetent as a woman. I was also offered a child by one of the women in the village.

Cat's Got My Tongue

2009-11-24T00:13:00.000-08:00

So, a quick post before I get into a longer, more serious one. It should be known that I am getting some serious push-back on the issue of the large cats...it seems particularly from Hyderabadies. For this reason, I am making it my mission to get a video of the thing. I maintain that it was XXL.

Believe It or Not, Nov. 23, 2009

2009-11-23T01:34:00.000-08:00

Things to know and master about India: Lessons from my first 3 days.
1) Always carry a roll of toilet paper or package of baby wipes in your purse/on your person – at all times. In India you can not assume there will be toilet paper. The typical Indian toilet is something you squat over not sit on and the floors are often wet and dirty. The traditional way of cleaning yourself after using the toilet is to spray yourself down with water from a hose on the wall. The idea is not a bad one but it leaves you with the issue of having a very wet nether region….hmmmm. Please see video of toilet - I thought it was a picture but apparently I was too jet lagged and took a video instead.
2) Get used to cold showers – I have yet to take a warm one! I believe this is likely due to the fact that right now it is WINTER in India and the average temp is about 70 degrees. Come February the temps should jump to about 100 and saturated. I think a cold shower will feel good then.
3) Master the NOD. If you have ever read Shantaram or know anything about Indian culture you have likely been informed about the infamous Indian head wag/nod. Please see attached video which provides a classic example. The head wag/nod is actually far more difficult than it appears. It involves a certain relaxation of the neck which I have yet to master. You will not be seeing a video of me doing the nod until I have mastered it.
4) The cats here are HUGE. I am not kidding. Today, I saw one for the first time. It was across the street prowling on the roof tops and from across the street I thought it was a panther of some sort. HUGE. These are the house cats in India…I am second guessing my thoughts on getting a cat. But, pretty cool when you think about it!
5) Barter, barter, barter: When you are white every price shoots up by about 20 rupees. Walk away from the rickshaw…walk away from the rickshaw. Someone else is always waiting.
6) Surrender your personal space – there is none in India. Period.
7) Cross the road with confidence. Breath and tell yourself that they will not hit you (they shouldn’t –right!). Put your hand out in a sign to STOP and they usually do…but prepare yourself for the last second swerve.
8) Don’t wear shorts.
9) Learn to eat with your hands - its fun!
10) Let go of the NYC black….colors are beautiful.

Burden

2009-11-22T19:52:00.000-08:00

Saturday, November 21st, 2009 – Posting Two
In America I grew up working poor. In India, it seems, I will live a life which is somewhat privileged. I find myself struggling with my class identity and personal judgments and fears around being privileged as well as the sheer poverty of India.

Of all the amazing training I received, no one prepared me for the shame I feel of being white and privileged in a city and country where poverty is very real, very sobering and very aggressive.

During my adventures yesterday we stopped late at night to try to get food. The minute we stepped out of the car begging women circled us - trapping us against the car itself.
It never ceases to amaze me how universal suffering and helplessness are. This language has no barriers.

They are pulling at my sleeves and pleading , open-handed, 5 – 10 all around me. Some are missing teeth while others are blind and their closeness is suffocating and intimidating.
In India, begging is often a profession and rigged game. Many times, giving these women money means you are putting money into the hands of someone who is paying them to beg and then taking most of the money for themselves. The rumors and stories surrounding this ‘profession’ are endless (think Slumdog Millionaire).

I make the mistake of giving one of them a one rupee coin (50 rupees equals 1 dollar). My shame has become visceral. Eight pairs of hands thrust at my face, demanding equality. Is there dignity here?

Now, on the verge of tears and completely overwhelmed I crawl back into the car – escaping the reality outside.

In the next moments the police arrive with whistles and a paddy wagon to clear the beggars from this street and corner. I witness this through the tinted glass of the rental car.

I look out as this part of India looks in. I am blessed to be here.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

2009-11-22T19:49:00.000-08:00

Saturday, November 21, 2009 – Posting 1
Today was my first full day in Hyderabad, India and I think I might have spent it doing some of the most random things possible.

Two Words: Snow World.

Yes, as it turns out there is a Snow World in Hyderabad. Where Indians and Expats (well actually just me and 4 others) alike gather to play in artificial snow generated by machines which likely use more power than half of Hyderabad combined.

I can only describe it as slightly ridiculous and I have pictures to prove it.

I could not help smile at the irony of Ms. Wisconsin playing in snow in India on her first day in the country…how did this happen. Not just snow but a slide and rock climbing wall inside the winter wonderland. I think only the pictures can do this justice – they will be attached.
My ticket to snow world was a package deal in which I also gained entry into a mirror maze, rainforest walk and haunted house.

Snow world was followed by a 2 hour drive into the middle of nowhere in bumper to bumper traffic to go go-carting and play laser tag. Seems very American to me!

By the end of all this I had been up from about 5 AM – midnight. I crawled into bed exhausted and wondering at the many commonalities I have already witnessed – sometimes the world feels so small.

How Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

2009-11-22T19:46:00.001-08:00

November 20th 2009

I am beginning to believe that my most difficult task in India will be learning to cross the road. It is a full-blown war out there!

This morning, I got bored and proceeded to go for a walk hoping that along the way I would find an ATM, phone card, kaftans and perhaps even a new phone – (since blackberry messenger is free anywhere in the world!)

It should be noted that I found none of these things but instead returned home with my tail between my legs. But I did make it a half-hour or so.

During this half-hour I was followed for at least 15 minutes by one rickshaw driver who wouldn’t leave me alone, yelled at forcefully by a group of begging women, nearly run off the road by several walkers and saw my life pass before me as a bus of screaming school children nearly ran me over. Needless to say, I am not only a bit unnerved but also appreciating New York.

Have you ever seen the Seinfeld episode where George starts playing frogger?…crossing the streets in India is just like this. Dash..pause…wait..go…breath. There are no lights, there are no rules and absolutely no concern for the sanctity of life.

I am now afraid one of you will die when you come to visit me.

Last night while riding home from the office in my state of sleep-deprived delirium a large bull with huge horns came charging down the freeway against traffic. This was not a hallucination…totally real. No one even flinched…just kept on going. A large bull, charging traffic…if that can’t create pause I don’t know what will.

Other than that I am starving, without phone and internet and ready to get things sorted out so I can live with a bit more peace.

With Love,
Meghan

How Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

2009-11-22T19:46:00.000-08:00

First Impressions Matter Most

2009-11-22T19:45:00.000-08:00

November 19th, 2009
India is chaos and beauty all rolled up into one festive, unruly and unforgiving ball of spice.
India offers no remorse or apologies.
Poverty is butted up right against polish here: Slums on the painted tip toes of mansions. Oxen line the roads while limos take expats to the Google headquarters.
People are everywhere, traffic is manic and the sound of horns, hammering, screaming and talking never stop…EVER.
It is also beautiful. The spirit of the people is captured in their colors. The city is blooming. Saris decorate the rubble and women workers dot the road-side in greens, indigos and bright yellow. Even the poorest are vibrantly dressed.
The slums are unnerving and vast. Blue tarps dot hillsides where strip-mining rules. The city moves seamlessly from slum to shops to wealth to slums. It is an endless cycle of random plots. Men are standing welding in the streets as cars weave around them. People crush rocks and sell anything imaginable.
The place is bubbling with entrepreneurs and determination. It seems to be growing and developing far too quickly for any sort of over-sight to take place. The randomness of it all is uncanny.
I am exhausted and hungry but strangely awake.
I am missing my family and the normalness of home but appreciating that this is all part of the process.