A Few of My Favorite Things (photos!)

A few of my favorite photos from India!

Working in the Muslim Slums

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

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

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!)

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

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?

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.