This will teach me to check websites in future. Really it will.
I thought I'd chosen wisely when I put my name down for Manushi as the host for my excuse to travel way back in January. Human rights - check. Bit of research and getting out and about around India - check. ENJOYING A RELAXING FEW MONTHS LEARNING ABOUT THE INDIAN CULTURE, SOCIALISING AND SENDING POSTCARDS OF THE TAJ MAHAL - A BIG CHECK.
At least that was the plan. Instead I have found myself in an environment of dynamicism, ideas, passion and genuine, inspiring action. It's taking alot of getting used to.
'Manushi' is a bimonthly magazine, the tenderly nurtured babe of Madhu Purnima Kishwar, cultural commentator and Senior Fellow at the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, Delhi University. And after my first week at work, it really is something a little bit special. Madhu herself is abit of a legend. Surviving on 5 hours sleep a night, one meal a day and a heck of alot of yoga she single handedly controls the operational and policy side of Manushi, occasionally berating her minions to print off more emails or make more tea.
Currently I still count as a minion, though today I was 'honoured' to be able to assist with making a Powerpoint presentation. But so far the work trips are making up for it. In the past week I have been to a Human Rights Conference at a university in distant Rajasthan, only 40kms from the Pakistani border. Madhu was the chief speaker, and as it was a last minute decision to take up the offer to go she spoke for 30 minutes without notes on, erm, well...something interesting - the whole thing was in Hindi so you're bemused narrator had an interesting time watching other people look interested. The university itself was amazing. Funded by by one philanthropic family who achieved great wealth by importing textiles from Manchester, but had the conviction to leave the importing trade altogether at Gandhi's behest in 1922. Amazing. During Partition and the spread of religous uncertainty in 1947, the Muslim population of this small town were all set to leave for fledgling Pakistan. Dr Kumar's father asked why. 'Fear,' they replied. He offered to put up all those with their bags packed in his 108 bedroom house, and this he did, swearing to defend them all himself armed only with his hunting rifle if necessary.
In four hours I was offered 3 places to stay were I to return, including by the town's Chief Justice, and had lunch with the President of the University. I was also invited to join an English group so they could make tapes of my voice to listen to after I'd left. Hmmm. Maybe next time.
After four hours heavy sleep on the return from Rajasthan I went straight to Sewa Nagar market to a bless a pavement with Manushi. One of Manushi's projects is assisting the street vendors of Delhi. Incredibly, considering the number of vendors pushing fruit trolleys and maintaining their sari stands, it is illegal to vend if you do not have all your stall on the pavement. Seeing as pavements in Delhi are few and far between Manushi has established various projects to build them, thus legalising people who are doing perfectly legitimate business. In Sewa Nagar bazar they have built about 200ft of pavements, as well as building attractive gates and entrances to the park that sits contiguous to the market and building the first public toilets in the area. This is a great facility for the people of the neighbourhood, and quite inspiring for me to be involved in.
At the end enough food was given out for about 300 people to eat lunh free, which though also very inspring wasn't something I could help with. So in wandering off into a park to avoid the curious children I ended up having a theological chat with a load of lads, who were so impresed they gave me a round of applause and an orange as a token of their appreciation! I'll have to go into this in more depth on a slow week because I've already rambled for too long, but this just about topped off a bizarre but pretty life affirming couple of days.
I know you'll all be pleased to hear I'm immersing myself in the local culture like a Kumbh Mela pilgrim cleansing himself of sin on the banks of the Ganges. I bought a copy of the Dhoom 2 soundtrack! For those uninitiated into the joys of contemporary Bollywood, it's like Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge but with the E number colour and OTT songs turned up to 11. I also got a copy of the Best Reggae hits of the 90s, the best of the 60s and the new Shakira album so I don't know what's going on. In my defence it's mainly because whenever I ask people what to do in Delhi they get very excited and say "Shakira's playing in Mumbai next week!" or "Shakira's playing in Mumbai tomorrow!" or "Shakira played in Mumbai last week!" It didn't help me one jot in finding out what I can actually do in DELHI TONIGHT, but it did brainwash me into thinking my hips aren't lying.
And quite a few more things happened too involving a man at a cashpoint and a 2 pound 50 (notice the lack of pound signs on the keyboard) three quart bottle of rum, but they will have to wait for another day.
Take care of yourselves, and each other.
Tom.
Namaste!
STOP PRESS: The light works in the bathroom! I can see what I'm doing when I shower!
And apoogies - I don't know what's gone wrong with the font
Friday, March 30, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Welcome to my world!
Good morning, afternoon and evening to one and all back in bonny Blighty. I hope you are all well and remembered to put your clocks forward on Sunday. You are now a mere four and a half hours behind us here in the subcontinent so now communication is even easier! And I have finally sorted out the phone situation, so if calls and texts could be directed at 9999 562 002 - for a few rupee that's a whole loada me. It's like magic!
Well, here I am in Delhi. The sun is setting on my first week in India's capital, and I'm starting to feel more at home here. Teeming Delhi, home to 14 million people, a similar number of intinerant dogs and several hundred langourous bovines; and congested Delhi, where four million cars swerve and honk their way through rivers of grubby auto-rickshaws and determined cycle rickshaws. I can't believe it has been only a week - it feels like so much has happened! I won't bore you with a blow by blow account of what currys I've eaten and when, but I'll give you a taster of the kind of japes Brahma the creator has bestowed on me this past 7 days.
By the time I hit the hay at the end of last Sunday I had ticked various boxes on what a break in India should entail. I saw my first road accident when driving away from Qutb Minar, an ornately carved 73 metre high tower celebrating the taking of Delhi by Muslim invaders in the 12th century. (Though as they were to rule until the British declared India an official colony in 1857 invaders might not be a fair term.) A motorbike came flying across a junction and went straight into a pedestrian. The driver and pedestrian were dazed rather than anything more serious, though the latter had to come to his senses pretty quickly as the passenger on the bike came at him with fists flying. This happened as we were on our way to buy a SIM card that wouldn't cost me 2 pounds a minute to ring someone in the next room as my British one did. To get a SIM card required photocopies of my visa and passport, two further passport sized photos and a sheaf of forms signed, countersigned, and brushed for fingerprints before the proprieter of the shop was happy they were in a good enough condition to be signed and countersigned. And then we saw a mongoose.
It is part of the AIESEC reception procedure that Incoming Exchange peeps stay with the family of one of the AIESEC organisers at your destination. In my case this turned out to be Archit Kumar, the son of one of the most senior and decorated members in the Delhi police force. His father had received the Presidential medal in person from President Abdul Kalem for his work countering terrorism. As you do. Put up in a police colony in Haus Khas, one of Delhi's more exclusive addresses, my introduction to Delhi was chauffuer-driven comfort and a platoon of serving staff catering to my every need. You can imagine my slight culture shock, therefore, when in the dead of night on Tuesday I was taken to my trainee house in Vikram Vihar. Whilst staying with the Kumars the catering staff had ensured I had no need to use cooking utensils at my previous residence. The lack of experience was not an immediate concern, however, as there were no cooking utensils to use at the trainee house. Again, finding imaginative solutions to common problems, the lack of utensils was of little concern because the light in the kitchen didn't work. As it didn't in the bathroom. As the hot water didn't in the shower. And as the sliding door didn't onto the balcony which was our last line of defence against the mosquitoes. The mosquitoes, on the other hand, were in rude health, and wouldn't miss any opportunity to take a little nibble at any exposed flesh. I am yet to determine if it was the mosquitos themselves whose tenacious teeth ate through the string holding up my mosquito net while I slept on Wednesday morning. I didn't immediately mind the net coming down on me when I awoke, however, as this was the closest thing I had to bed linen at the time.
Oh our hero! I hear you cry. Fear not, thine sympathetic friends, as things have improved since then. I borrowed some sheets from work (which I started on Tuesday - more on work next week), and which I have now replaced with some of my own. I bought my sheets at 9 o clock in the evening from a man who operated a home made linen superstore from his kitchen whilst his wife/mother fussed around getting dinner together. And we now have a map to at least begin to cover the bare walls in the flat. And the housemates are sound - Roberto from Italy, Michi and Taka from Japan, Subin from South Korea and Samuchi who lives a few miles away in Greater Delhi. I'm sure you'll hear much of them over the course of the weeks and months.
Take care of yourselves, stay in touch and remember to check this page every week or so to see what other adventures your favourite voluntary researcher has been bemused by.
Namaste!
Well, here I am in Delhi. The sun is setting on my first week in India's capital, and I'm starting to feel more at home here. Teeming Delhi, home to 14 million people, a similar number of intinerant dogs and several hundred langourous bovines; and congested Delhi, where four million cars swerve and honk their way through rivers of grubby auto-rickshaws and determined cycle rickshaws. I can't believe it has been only a week - it feels like so much has happened! I won't bore you with a blow by blow account of what currys I've eaten and when, but I'll give you a taster of the kind of japes Brahma the creator has bestowed on me this past 7 days.
By the time I hit the hay at the end of last Sunday I had ticked various boxes on what a break in India should entail. I saw my first road accident when driving away from Qutb Minar, an ornately carved 73 metre high tower celebrating the taking of Delhi by Muslim invaders in the 12th century. (Though as they were to rule until the British declared India an official colony in 1857 invaders might not be a fair term.) A motorbike came flying across a junction and went straight into a pedestrian. The driver and pedestrian were dazed rather than anything more serious, though the latter had to come to his senses pretty quickly as the passenger on the bike came at him with fists flying. This happened as we were on our way to buy a SIM card that wouldn't cost me 2 pounds a minute to ring someone in the next room as my British one did. To get a SIM card required photocopies of my visa and passport, two further passport sized photos and a sheaf of forms signed, countersigned, and brushed for fingerprints before the proprieter of the shop was happy they were in a good enough condition to be signed and countersigned. And then we saw a mongoose.
It is part of the AIESEC reception procedure that Incoming Exchange peeps stay with the family of one of the AIESEC organisers at your destination. In my case this turned out to be Archit Kumar, the son of one of the most senior and decorated members in the Delhi police force. His father had received the Presidential medal in person from President Abdul Kalem for his work countering terrorism. As you do. Put up in a police colony in Haus Khas, one of Delhi's more exclusive addresses, my introduction to Delhi was chauffuer-driven comfort and a platoon of serving staff catering to my every need. You can imagine my slight culture shock, therefore, when in the dead of night on Tuesday I was taken to my trainee house in Vikram Vihar. Whilst staying with the Kumars the catering staff had ensured I had no need to use cooking utensils at my previous residence. The lack of experience was not an immediate concern, however, as there were no cooking utensils to use at the trainee house. Again, finding imaginative solutions to common problems, the lack of utensils was of little concern because the light in the kitchen didn't work. As it didn't in the bathroom. As the hot water didn't in the shower. And as the sliding door didn't onto the balcony which was our last line of defence against the mosquitoes. The mosquitoes, on the other hand, were in rude health, and wouldn't miss any opportunity to take a little nibble at any exposed flesh. I am yet to determine if it was the mosquitos themselves whose tenacious teeth ate through the string holding up my mosquito net while I slept on Wednesday morning. I didn't immediately mind the net coming down on me when I awoke, however, as this was the closest thing I had to bed linen at the time.
Oh our hero! I hear you cry. Fear not, thine sympathetic friends, as things have improved since then. I borrowed some sheets from work (which I started on Tuesday - more on work next week), and which I have now replaced with some of my own. I bought my sheets at 9 o clock in the evening from a man who operated a home made linen superstore from his kitchen whilst his wife/mother fussed around getting dinner together. And we now have a map to at least begin to cover the bare walls in the flat. And the housemates are sound - Roberto from Italy, Michi and Taka from Japan, Subin from South Korea and Samuchi who lives a few miles away in Greater Delhi. I'm sure you'll hear much of them over the course of the weeks and months.
Take care of yourselves, stay in touch and remember to check this page every week or so to see what other adventures your favourite voluntary researcher has been bemused by.
Namaste!
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