Leaving India Feb.11, 2012

Everyday life in the slums at the local watering hole

Saturday, February 11, 2012
It is 4:45pm and in one hour I will leave to the train station. Tonight I ‘m travelling from Varanasi to Delhi. Tomorrow afternoon I fly to Kathmandu, Nepal. It is hard to believe that my time in India is done. It seems like ages ago that I left Canada and the many comforts of home. I am also amazed at what I have experience in one month. 

Eager learners...morning preschool class

The classroom I taught in...not much there.

This past week I travelled as a “tourist” to the touristy places, Jaipur, Agra and Varanasi and have had time to reflect on the differences. There is amazing history to be seen in India, many world heritage sites… but the rickshaws, tuk tuk drivers, touts selling their wares and the beggars are exhausting. When I tell them that I am not interested in their items, they don’t get it. Their response is “please Madam, what is your best price then?”

Is it time to play outside yet?

I am so glad that I had the opportunity to volunteer in the slum school in Faridabad and live with Shri and Mamta. In my opinion that was the “real” India and how the majority of people live. Faridabad is what most people would consider “a dump”. It is a suburb of Delhi; very dusty and dirty, with very poor roads. Many of the Indians who leave their small villages in search of work in Delhi end up here, living in the slums. They find work as laborers’ or provide domestic help for the better off, and earn under $2.00 a day. Children who attend the slum schools are there because their parents can’t afford housing or the pittance it costs for school uniforms and registration in the public schools. Parents are illiterate themselves and because they don’t know better, education is not encouraged. They work long hours 6-7 days per week and the kids that attend the slum school are most often alone, raising or being raised by a sibling.  A lunch of dhal (looks like porridge made of lentils) and an occasional candy are used as motivators for school attendance. When the children are old enough to earn money they no longer attend school. In the short time that I was there, I believe Iwas the one getting an education. Four times a day I walked through the slums to get to the school. I never felt afraid. Any children playing outside were thrilled to run up to me, hold my hand, walk with me, say hello and ask me my name. They loved to have their photos taken for the sheer pleasure of seeing themselves on the screen when I displayed it back to them. Even the adults wanted into the pictures. If adults stared at me, as soon as I said “Namaste”, their faces usually lit up and I got a “Namaste” back.  Never was I approached by beggars in the slums. Never did I feel like I had to offer money to take a photo, I just asked first if it was ok and was seldom turned down. I was also touched by the generosity that was extended to me by people who had so little. After my first week of teaching, the older girls started asking me into their homes for chai after school(sweetened milk tea, and the main drink in India) . They were so proud to take me home and introduce and introduce me to friends and family along the way. Their homes consisted of one room brick house about the size of my home bathroom. There was a built in bed, a small Hindu alter set up for prayer and a 2 burner gas stove on the floor…. no fridge. The bricks and floor are made from upla (dried cow manure and straw).  The first time I went to Pratima’s home, I asked her where they all slept. She was 15 and still had 2 brothers at home. Two sisters had married. She mimed that they slept on and under the bed (concrete floors) that was pretty much it…. but here she was so proud to offer me tea and biscuits. A package of plain sugar cookies cost 5-10 rupees (.10 cents). Once I was served ….as many family and neighbors that could, crowded in to watch me drink and eat my cookie. No one joined me….I was the guest and a curiosity. It was a very humbling experience, and to refuse would have been offensive. Amazingly enough, I did not get sick. I did however encourage them to boil the water extra-long and I must admit to using a lot of hand sanitizer! Every day I was invited somewhere different until I left.

Today I am learning to print my name!

My last day in Faridabad was Sunday, Feb. 5. Shri and I went to the school that morning to deliverhot milk to the students, a perk that Mamta prepared and was offered about once a month. I should mention that I have been drinking water buffalo milk since my arrival. Cow milk is not used as Hindi’s consider it to be very holy. It is only offered to their gods in the temple…. Back to my story…. last Sunday there was a political rally going on. A huge tent was set up beside the school and chairs and tables were stored in the usually barren classroom. When I returned to Shri and Mamta’s home I told John, a fellow volunteer about it, and we decided to walk down with our cameras. We landed in the midst of a CPI rally, (Communist party of India). They were working the slums for votes. John and I actually got invited into the small circle of dignitaries before they took to the podium. I felt like I was in the midst of a summit. They pounced on John when he said he was American, they have stereotyped Americans as self-serving and interfering. 

Hob-nobbing with the female politicians at the Communist Party Rally

Nice to be from Canada at that moment. Most Indians view our country as the “promised land” and many hope to immigrate to it someday. They told us that India needs a revolution to oust the present “capitalist and corrupt” government. The next election is in January of 2015, so it will be interesting to see what happens. Any Indians I have talked to about government say that voting is pointless as the government makes many promises, keeps none and is corrupt. “Very bad government in India” they say. That day I met some of the women who are political leaders, was immediately welcomed as a kindred spirit, and once again invited for tea and food.

Young boys with Down's Syndrome, very excluded

What a difference inclusion makes!!!

Chai at Pratima's home




Other “inclusive educational “experiences that I had: my walk to school one particular morning… a small group of women and children had gathered in a tight circle. I wormed my way in curious and they immediately made an opening for me…there in that moment a goat had just delivered her second kid and the placenta was coming out!!! OMG I thought, how often would we see that in Canada? I sure reflected on that as I continued to school…..There was also a little boy, who looked to be about 4 or 5, with Downs Syndrome. He hung around outside the school and never had pants on. I started taking the morning preschool class outside and taught them how to play duck, duck goose, a huge success! I could tell he longed to play….the kids were just about running him down, he was so curious. I asked the older teacher to include him in the game and she adamantly said no. He looked so sad. The next day we went out again to play our game but this time Beana, the younger teacher was in charge. This little boy’s grandmother came up this time (she had even put his pants on). She spoke to Beana in Hindi and finally the circle was reluctantly opened. He was THRILLED!! I am sure we made not just his day but his life in that moment. I have such great pictures of him running; I was elated to see how this small gesture impacted him. From that day on whenever we played outside he was “included”. 

Brand new mama goat with her two kids

My perception of the India as a volunteer: I experienced a country that is SO ALIVE and REAL with few pretenses! There is such simplicity to the lives of these poor people and their faith seems so strong. Most live in the moment, from day to day. They don’t have the room or means to “hoard or stock up”. Walls are made of plaster or a tarp so they are not filled with pictures or photos. Indoor spaces are so small that they spend most of their time outside with the animals. Babies and small children run around bare bottom with no self-consciousness; there is no money for diapers, water is limited and everything is washed by hand. Men openly urinate all over the place (not saying I like that, it is very stinky in places!!) I don’t know what women do. I’ve certainly strengthened my bladder muscles since arriving in India. I took toilet paper to the slum school the first day and realized there was no place to use it. After that I drastically reduced my fluid intake before school and prayed for a “strong constitution”. The people I met were real, generous and happy!!!

Observations and reflections on being a tourist: There is amazing history in India and many world heritage sites. There is a HUGE discrepancy between admission prices for foreign tourists and Indians. I paid almost $20 to see the Taj Mahal and Indians pay 20 rupees (less than .50 cents). The majority of Indians who take the time to view these sites are affluent!!! Once inside, there was still a charge for a guide or audio guide. Bathroom facilities at these world heritage sites were usually filthy and disgusting. Often there was a 10 rupee charge to use them which didn’t guarantee toilet paper was provided. I was constantly harassed for tips regardless of how tiny the service which I may not have even asked for…nothing was free. The cleanliness and the customer service in the hotels I stayed in were not great. Assertive communication, patience and having few expectations became important to my serenity and sanity! So glad I did the tourist thing after volunteering.

Taj Mahal in Agra

Positive tourist experiences: I did have some wonderful experiences the week I travelled as a tourist, Meeting 2 friends from my volunteer orientation week when I travelled to Jaipur. Discovering Pizza Hut  (which I never go to in Canada). Interesting I developed an intestinal bug this week… my favorite food for the week was double cheese pizza.

Monja and me at the train station outside of Agra

Meeting Monja, the driver set up by the tour company. He was my travel companion for four days from Delhi to the train station in Agra. He was 24, a devout Hindu whose favorite god was Hanuman, the monkey god, and he loved cricket. He was very excited to know my husband’s name was Garry….because Garry Kirsten is the coach of India’s cricket team. He said “Madam, I call you Garry, then he laughed”.  He had unshakeable faith and I saw it in action when we were in countless traffic jams. Within the first hour of our meeting he told me “Many bad drivers in India….here you need three things …good horn, good brakes and good luck”. He then proudly told me and showed me his driver’s license.  Good to know that the tour company used legal drivers! He was still a bachelor, from a small village about 6 hours from Delhi. It was obvious he loved his family very much and as the oldest son, he sent 1500 rupees ($30) home each month to help pay for his younger brother to finish high school. This was probably a good chunk his monthly salary. When I asked him if he would have an arranged marriage in the future he said “yes, but… madam this is my little plan… first I save money, and buy a cozy home in my village and then I have a happy marriage.” He was so polite and respectful and always looking out for me. After our four days he wanted take me to his village to meet his family and together we decided he was my 4^th son!! He stayed with me at the train station until he knew I was safe and he had arranged a porter. In doing this he would not get back to Delhi until after 2am.

The family I met at the train station…The parents and two young sons were seeing their mother off and were so friendly. The girl I travelled with from Russia. Good to have female companionship in our 4 bunk sleeper. We started out with an older Indian gentleman who was getting off at 11:00pm and woke up with 3 new male roommates….only in India!

A tuk tuk driver I hired in Agra to take me to Pizza Hut. He was so sweet and helpful. He was  grateful that said I would visit the store he wanted to take me. This would allow him to collect a small commission about.50 cents for me into the shop of local a merchant he'd worked this deal with. He insisted on waiting for me to eat and then when I asked him if he knew where I could get a good and reasonably priced massage, he totally set me up. Then came back to get me an hour later. He wouldn’t take any money from me until the end of our time together.

Visiting Varanasi, was the real highlight for me and I wasn’t disappointed. It is the oldest and one of the holiest cities in the world. I saw so many interesting sites, like Sarnath, where it is said Buddha gave his first sermon.

Boat ride at sunrise... this boy is preparing his prayer offerings of flowers and candles

Life along the Ganges in the early morning.

Holy men preparing for aarti..evening prayer

It is the Ghats along the holy Ganges River that amazed me. Here I got to see life and death together. For thousands of years people have been travelling to these Ghats for enlightenment and purification.  I was able to ride a boat along the river as the sun came up to see the ghats come alive as people offer their morning prayers to the rising sun.  In the evening I went the Dasaswamedh Ghat to see hundreds of people participate in the evening prayer service called Aarti. What a sight, as clay lamps were immersed in the waters to  give a divine look to the river at dusk, with the chanting of prayers in the background.

Aarti, evening prayers on the Ghats

Later I walked down to Manikarnika Ghat which is the main cremation Ghat of Varanasi. (I couldn't take photos here out of respect for this ritual.)It is one of the oldest and most sacred Ghats in Varanasi. According to the Hindu mythology, being burned here provides an instant gateway to liberation from the cycle of births and rebirths. Here I watched as at least a dozen pyres (fires) burned as many bodies. The cremations are conducted 24 hours a day, each day.  It was amazing to view all of this as a young Indian hospice worker explained the ritual to me.  Cremation in India is designed to do much more than dispose of the body; it is intended to release the soul from its earthly existence. "Hindus believe that cremation (compared to burial or outside disintegration) is most spiritually beneficial to the departed soul." This is based on the belief that the "astral body" will linger "as long as the physical body remains visible." If the body is not cremated, "the soul remains nearby for days, months or years. The standard cremation ceremony begins with the ritual cleansing, dressing and adorning of the body. The body is then carried to the cremation ground as prayers are chanted to Yama, invoking his aid.

It is the chief mourner, usually the eldest son, who takes the twigs of holy grass, flaming, from the Doms' (the untouchable caste who tend funeral pyres) to the pyre upon which the dead has been laid. He circles the pyre counterclockwise– for everything is backward at the time of death. As he walks round the pyre, his sacred thread, which usually hangs from the left shoulder, has been reversed to hang from the right. He lights the pyre. The dead is now an offering to Agni, the fire or heaven. It takes 2 to 3 hours for a body to burn. After the corpse is almost completely burned, the chief mourner performs the rite called kapälakriyä, the 'rite of the skull,' cracking the skull with a long bamboo stick, thus releasing the soul from entrapment in the body. After the cremation, the ashes are thrown into the river and the mourners walk away without looking back.


Feb.15…I am finishing this blog from Nepal….and want to post it soon as I need to keep up to what I am seeing and experiencing here. India was amazing and I have only touched on the highlights. I am sure I have take a couple thousand photos. It seems like an eternity since I left Canada …incredible all that I was able to see and experience!!
Namaste, Lynne

Such beautiful, real people