We had a good wrap-up conference back in Chicago and now I am in Minnesota relaxing and preparing for the school year. I haven’t talked much about our actual project, so to summarize:
Our project was titled “Seeds of Knowledge: A Tree Planting Initiative at Rajpura Primary School.” We worked with in a small government school, grades 1 through 5, facilitating daily lessons focused on the environment. Speakers came from the community itself, like one woman who worked at a tree nursery, and also from our NGO, the Foundation for Ecological Security. Then each child got to plant a sapling in the school yard, one of four local species, and take one home to plant near their home. On our follow-up visit we found that all the families had planted the trees. The kids were proud to show us, and many of the family members also got really into it with sturdy thorn fences for protection.
During one of the education days the kids got to color a picture of their tree “all grown up” to motivate them to take care of their sapling so it turns into that large tree. It seemed that most of the kids had only drawn on their small chalkboards before, copying what the teacher had drawn on the board. So they may not have been used to drawing with color, and they certainly weren’t used to having freedom and creativity in their school assignments- most daily activities we observed involved the kids repeating what the teacher said or wrote. At first the kids only copied the tree previously drawn as an example, but as we allowed more time and encouraged them to add things to the drawings, the hesitation dissolved and we ended up with some rainbow-colored trees and full forests.
There’s an unused rainwater harvesting system at the school, so they were able to open that back up again to use for watering the trees. The program was deemed a success both by the school teachers and director, community leaders, and by our NGO, who may do similar programs in other schools. The larger impact of our project, however, lies in the relationships created. Rajpura lies on the border of the wildlife sanctuary that FES is trying to protect, so FES hopes to engage the Rajpura residents in the protection process. In addition to doing the tree project that built trust between FES and Rajpura, we spent four of the seven weeks doing an anthropological study of the lives of the Rajpura people. Both the project and the report we created from what we learned about Rajpura will serve as a basis for FES’s future work there.
Thank you for going along this journey with me! More pictures will be on facebook shortly. It’s been a summer full of learning- not only about community development like I expected but also about food and cooking, politics, religion, healthcare, etc. In our work we talked a lot about sustainability in development and tried to make the benefits of our project directly sustainable, but I think another long lasting thing about this summer will be the relationships I built- with my host family, two good friends from Udaipur, and some of the other interns I got to know.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Stories of Delhi and of trust
On our first day in Delhi all 14 of us rented a bus to hit the main sights. We got a an overview of famous buildings, but not a feel for the city- so the next day three of us went off on our own. After seeing the Lotus Temple and beautiful Lodi gardens, I got to wander around the theater and arts district. From there we went to see the large mosque, and that’s when it got more adventurous.
Our cycle rickshaw dropped us off a block away because the streets were so crowded. After missing the turn we should have taken, we ended up in the “thieves market”, where your shoes will end up if they get stolen while you are in a temple, among various other stolen goods. When we got re-routed towards the mosque we still had to go through a crowded street, where a gang of boys followed us, ready to snatch something from our bags the minute we became distracted by the goods being sold. So as we clutched our bags and made our way through the darkening market street, we saw people selling, yelling, quickly scrutinizing and buying, begging, living, eating, sewing, arguing, scheming, biking, and kids running.
After a glimpse at the mosque we bee-hived to the first well-lit shop we could find on the main street. At this point we were the only foreigners around; we always get stares and unwanted attention but now it was three-fold. As we stood in the entrance of this shoe store, various people would try to come near to talk, stare, beg, or take pictures of us- but the store owner shooed (no pun intended) them all away for us. He even cleared off the bench inside for us to sit on, which we declined because certainly we’d have to tip him. (People will often sweep first or hand you a newspaper first, then after the fact will demand payment.) But 20 minutes later, after we had gotten our bearings and decided on a restaurant and how best to get there, we tried to tip the store owner anyway because he had been so helpful. No matter how much we insisted, he wouldn’t accept it! In a country where my sense of “common courtesy” has little weight and where every rickshaw driver and store owner will try to charge us at least twice the actual price, this simple gesture of kindness to complete strangers meant a lot to us.
Alas, the next day reminded us that we should not expect this same courtesy from everyone. After our train to Agra was delayed two hours, our single day there was already shortened. So we spent two hours walking around the Taj Mahal and just sitting and enjoying the view. We then told our auto-rickshaw drivers, who we had hired for the day, that we had limited time and wanted to go to an inexpensive restaurant. They didn’t take us to the one we requested, but a different one. Even though we knew they’d probably get commission for taking us to their friend’s business we decided to give it a try; they had been very friendly and helpful to us. Unfortunately, after ordering it took two hours (in an empty restaurant) before we even received our lukewarm and tasteless food. Our time was up in Agra. We were bummed that we didn’t see anything other than the Taj and disappointed in our drivers who we had come to trust, but of course it was still well worth the trip to see the Taj. Can you imagine someone building all that splendor for one woman?
As anywhere, there are people to trust and those to be wary of; perhaps I’m just more aware of it here because I’m not familiar with the cultural codes and norms that dictate relationship. Our taxi driver yesterday got stopped and a little beat up by men from another car who thought that our driver was trying to race them and that he intentionally tried to block their way. Although it was at first terrifying to me, people who live here understood immediately why that would have happened and didn’t think it was a big deal. (I’ll now be more thankful for the cops who dot the US Highways…) But overall, I have met amazing people. A young woman I met on a bus and one I met in the Kathak dance classes I’ve been taking (I got to teach a little ballet and jazz to the students, too!) have both made me feel like a part of their entire family. The church here has been a family to me and of course my host family too. As I wrap up my time here I am excited to see family and friends back home, but it’s hard to realize that spending time with my friends and “family” here will no longer be possible.
Our cycle rickshaw dropped us off a block away because the streets were so crowded. After missing the turn we should have taken, we ended up in the “thieves market”, where your shoes will end up if they get stolen while you are in a temple, among various other stolen goods. When we got re-routed towards the mosque we still had to go through a crowded street, where a gang of boys followed us, ready to snatch something from our bags the minute we became distracted by the goods being sold. So as we clutched our bags and made our way through the darkening market street, we saw people selling, yelling, quickly scrutinizing and buying, begging, living, eating, sewing, arguing, scheming, biking, and kids running.
After a glimpse at the mosque we bee-hived to the first well-lit shop we could find on the main street. At this point we were the only foreigners around; we always get stares and unwanted attention but now it was three-fold. As we stood in the entrance of this shoe store, various people would try to come near to talk, stare, beg, or take pictures of us- but the store owner shooed (no pun intended) them all away for us. He even cleared off the bench inside for us to sit on, which we declined because certainly we’d have to tip him. (People will often sweep first or hand you a newspaper first, then after the fact will demand payment.) But 20 minutes later, after we had gotten our bearings and decided on a restaurant and how best to get there, we tried to tip the store owner anyway because he had been so helpful. No matter how much we insisted, he wouldn’t accept it! In a country where my sense of “common courtesy” has little weight and where every rickshaw driver and store owner will try to charge us at least twice the actual price, this simple gesture of kindness to complete strangers meant a lot to us.
Alas, the next day reminded us that we should not expect this same courtesy from everyone. After our train to Agra was delayed two hours, our single day there was already shortened. So we spent two hours walking around the Taj Mahal and just sitting and enjoying the view. We then told our auto-rickshaw drivers, who we had hired for the day, that we had limited time and wanted to go to an inexpensive restaurant. They didn’t take us to the one we requested, but a different one. Even though we knew they’d probably get commission for taking us to their friend’s business we decided to give it a try; they had been very friendly and helpful to us. Unfortunately, after ordering it took two hours (in an empty restaurant) before we even received our lukewarm and tasteless food. Our time was up in Agra. We were bummed that we didn’t see anything other than the Taj and disappointed in our drivers who we had come to trust, but of course it was still well worth the trip to see the Taj. Can you imagine someone building all that splendor for one woman?
As anywhere, there are people to trust and those to be wary of; perhaps I’m just more aware of it here because I’m not familiar with the cultural codes and norms that dictate relationship. Our taxi driver yesterday got stopped and a little beat up by men from another car who thought that our driver was trying to race them and that he intentionally tried to block their way. Although it was at first terrifying to me, people who live here understood immediately why that would have happened and didn’t think it was a big deal. (I’ll now be more thankful for the cops who dot the US Highways…) But overall, I have met amazing people. A young woman I met on a bus and one I met in the Kathak dance classes I’ve been taking (I got to teach a little ballet and jazz to the students, too!) have both made me feel like a part of their entire family. The church here has been a family to me and of course my host family too. As I wrap up my time here I am excited to see family and friends back home, but it’s hard to realize that spending time with my friends and “family” here will no longer be possible.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Expectations
A few more altered expectations:
-First I was surprised by the villager’s lack knowledge of the outside world, but then having made that conclusion I am surprised as we discover various people for whom that is not the case. One boy who attends school in the nearby town asked me in his beginner’s English if Obama is a good president, and how he compares to Bush.
-I thought I would hate bucket showers (you dip a cup into a bucket of water and then pour it over yourself) but in the India heat the cool water is kind of nice, and I can take my time but only use 3 or 4 gallons. To put this in perspective, some showerheads use 10 gal/min. Similarly, I’ve found that given the choice between a western toilet that is equally dirty as a nearby squat toilet, I actually prefer the squat one because there’s no contact required.
-While in the U.S. we were told that our host families are not guaranteed to have electricity or running water, so I expected to be roughing it. Contrarily, mine is an upper-caste and well-to-do family who sometimes uses a microwave to make chai, whose dad speaks a little Spanish, and who’s son wears his aviators to go to the gym in his red jeep. Even among such modernity there are things that surprise me: minimal interaction outside the house for women, prejudice towards Muslims and “backwards” people (a term I loathe, used for lower castes), and misconceptions about America like that all white people are Christian or that all Americans eat meat.
At one point my host family said that I could see the “real India,” implying that their lifestyle is not part of that reality. Yes, there is poverty; just outside our apartment a little boy, wearing only part of a burlap sack for clothes, comes in the morning to search through trash, hoping that it’s not too picked over by the resident family of pigs. There is extreme poverty, but on the same block there is wealth, and these are both part of the real India?
-First I was surprised by the villager’s lack knowledge of the outside world, but then having made that conclusion I am surprised as we discover various people for whom that is not the case. One boy who attends school in the nearby town asked me in his beginner’s English if Obama is a good president, and how he compares to Bush.
-I thought I would hate bucket showers (you dip a cup into a bucket of water and then pour it over yourself) but in the India heat the cool water is kind of nice, and I can take my time but only use 3 or 4 gallons. To put this in perspective, some showerheads use 10 gal/min. Similarly, I’ve found that given the choice between a western toilet that is equally dirty as a nearby squat toilet, I actually prefer the squat one because there’s no contact required.
-While in the U.S. we were told that our host families are not guaranteed to have electricity or running water, so I expected to be roughing it. Contrarily, mine is an upper-caste and well-to-do family who sometimes uses a microwave to make chai, whose dad speaks a little Spanish, and who’s son wears his aviators to go to the gym in his red jeep. Even among such modernity there are things that surprise me: minimal interaction outside the house for women, prejudice towards Muslims and “backwards” people (a term I loathe, used for lower castes), and misconceptions about America like that all white people are Christian or that all Americans eat meat.
At one point my host family said that I could see the “real India,” implying that their lifestyle is not part of that reality. Yes, there is poverty; just outside our apartment a little boy, wearing only part of a burlap sack for clothes, comes in the morning to search through trash, hoping that it’s not too picked over by the resident family of pigs. There is extreme poverty, but on the same block there is wealth, and these are both part of the real India?
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