International Women's Day, and the End of an Era.

Dear Family, Friends and Strangers,
I’m sorry this hasn’t been a more active blog over the last five months. The deeper I got in to my life here in India, the harder it grew to take time aside to narrate it all here. And now it’s the ninth of march, and tomorrow I board a plane out of Varanasi, and after some travel to here and there, I’ll be home in Toronto on the 23rd of March. Somehow, these 5 months have flown by.

Some of the recent stories I haven’t told here include the crazy whole staff (meaning 25 people!) retreat to Jaipur in Rajasthan, during which I learned what an Indian shopoholic looks like (!), the weekend in Lucknow (Uttar Pradesh’s state capital) with 22 Nepalese women, a series of tragedies from within our beneficiary community, Holi (India’s festival of colour -- see above photo) and the launch of the beautiful children’s library which Andria has been working on since October. I’m out of time now, and will have to share those stories orally once I’m home. One last story, though, I can tell: yesterday’s big event. International Women’s Day!

Empowering women is at the heart of the way WLC works. The first thing we do when we enter a needy community to launch programming is to start what we call a “Mahila Mandal” – a group for women in the community to meet regularly to talk about issues in their lives, homes and communities. The idea is to provide a mechanism for women to support each other and to engage in collective action to work change in their own lives, and it works: these groups have worked, with WLC’s support, to lobby local government for basic services (things like healthcare, electricity and roads), have supported each other in situations of domestic violence, and recently one group has worked to shut down a liquor bar in their neighbourhood contributing to alcoholism amongst men in the community. WLC also provides adult literacy classes, skills training and small loans to the women we serve, to allow them more independence and the means to earn their own livelihoods.


Naturally, International Women’s Day is an important day for us, and for the women we serve. And so, yesterday, over 500 women from the slum communities around Varnasi, the WLC staff, and us interns took to the streets of Varanasi to make our voices heard about the importance of women’s rights. Women waved signs and banners, cheered and shouted slogans: my favourite one translates roughly to “We are the women of India. We are not delicate flowers, but flames”! Andria and I dressed in saris – the official attire of adult women in India – for the first time, in honour of the occasion, and joined the 4 kilometre march in the blazing sun, shouting the protest chants along with the women we marched with. Along the route, people stopped and stared, hanging out of windows or crowding in front of shops to see what on earth so many women could be doing shouting together in the streets. It was a remarkable and joyous spectacle, and great fun to be a part of! The march ended with songs and dance from the women, and a massive and tasty feast.
International Women’s day was a perfect note with which to end our internships. Today has been a day of packing and wrapping things up, and starting to say our goodbyes to the friends, colleagues, neighbours and children who have made these months so rich, and turned Varanasi in to a home for us. Leaving isn’t easy.


Many of my “loyal readers” (that’s you!) already know this, but once I’m back in Toronto, I’ll be continuing to work with World Literacy of Canada – they’ve offered me a job at their Toronto office, as the overseas program manager. This is fantastic, and I’m extremely excited! A real job! With a fabulous organization! AND I get to keep working with the amazing India staff, and for the wonderful women and children I’ve met and come to know during my time here. I feel very fortunate. This means that once I’m back I’ll be diving straight in to “real life” – working full time, looking for an apartment, etcetera. It will be a crazy adaptation to make. But I’m getting ahead of myself – I still have one more day of this adventure to finish, before I can start the next one.




Thank you for reading!
Love,
Emily

Introducing Ritu

I often talk here about the many delightful children who take part in WLC’s programming, so thought I’d write something longer about one of them who I’ve gotten to know quite well over the last few months. And so, ladies and gentlemen, I introduce the fabulous Ritu!

I’ll never forget the first time I met Ritu. I had been in India for less than two weeks at that point, still finding my bearings and getting to know the kids in our children’s program. It had been stiflingly hot since our arrival, and I was longing for a breath of cool air. That was the day the weather changed. Just as I was about to leave Tulsi Kunj (where our children’s daily tutoring is held) to return home, a huge wind blew up, cooling the air in an instant and filling it with grainy dust. It was almost frightening in its intensity, and I hung back inside the building for a minute, then decided to venture out anyway. As I came around the side of the building, I met a little girl with pig tails and a big grin who I’d never seen before. She greeted me with the usual “Didi Namaste” and then pointed at the sky, reached her arms out like wings, flapped them up and down exuberantly, and said “wind!” and “fly!”. I stretched out my arms and imitated her, and in a few moments we were both running in circles and leaping and “flying” and shrieking and laughing in the cool gusts of gritty wind.
In the months since, I’ve come to know Ritu as a smart, fun, quirky and free spirited little girl. She is nine, and certainly shares her big sister Nitu’s intelligence (Nitu, who is 11 and also in our scholarship program, is consistently at the top of her class) but with a serious wild streak! Ritu has been involved with WLC for a couple of years. She was enrolled at one of the neighbourhood’s less good (and more affordable) primary schools, and came to WLC’s tutoring after school for help with her homework, but this year she joined our scholarship program, and was switched to a school called Gopi Radha, where she will get a much better education. This school would have been out of her parents’ price range, but now that she’s in our scholarship program her fees will be covered by WLC’s generous donors. Ritu is in the equivalent of grade 2 and likes her new school quite a bit, although (like many 9 year olds I know) she isn’t necessarily always in a big hurry to do her homework! Every day after school she goes to Tulsi Kunj to do her homework with the other kids from our program, and get some tutoring from WLC’s teachers when she needs it. They also keep an eye on her school results to be sure she’s keeping up!

Ritu’s favourite things in the world are dancing (she likes the structured Indian classical dance class she takes at school, and enjoys any chance to perform, but is also always leaping about wildly in the lanes near her house) and her goat, Mani. Ritu’s family keeps a goat for economic reasons (the milk is quite valuable) but to Ritu, Mani is her pet. Mani always comes when Ritu calls, and I’ve watched the two of them play tag together! Ritu says her favourite animal is a goat, one of her best friends is her goat, and her favourite stories are “stories about goats” (she even wrote one herself last year called “goat and me”).

Ritu’s home is on the same lane that leads to WLC’s office at the Ganga Mahal (also where I live), and so besides being a student in our program, she is also (like many of the kids) my neighbour. Ritu has played a big role in making me feel at home in this neighbourhood. Whenever she sees me turn in to the lane on my way home, she calls out “Emily Didi Namaste!” and often when I am on my way out to run an errand she’ll ask me where I’m going and if she can come too, then join me for the walk, skipping along beside me and chatting or singing. A few nights ago, Ritu and I sat together on the Ghat (stone steps by the river), the neighbourhood’s social hub in the evenings, and drank chai and talked. She only knows the little English she has learned in school, and my Hindi is very elementary, but she is surprisingly sensitive to this for such a young person, and her ability to make me understand her amazes me! When she speaks to me in Hindi she speaks veeery slowly, gesturing and throwing in English words where she can. She told me about school, pointed out people passing by and explained their relationships to kids in our program, described a dance she is rehearsing with friends, and talked about her excitement at getting a new puppy soon.

When I leave India, Ritu is certainly among the children I will miss the most, for her kindness, sense of fun, easy grace and warmth towards me – and her ability to make me laugh! Getting to kids like Ritu has probably been the best part of my time here. Being part of something that offers personal and financial support to such a group of fantastic kids is certainly rewarding.

(photos of Ritu and me dancing, and of Ritu with Abhishek and Monu, are by Andria)

General Update, and What I Did on My Christmas Vacation

Yes, I’m still here! Apologies for the long hiatus. My camera broke down in early December, making blog posting less appealing once I had no photos, and then immediately after Christmas I (and Andria and Prashant) left Varanasi for a 2 week holiday. I’m settled back in to work now, I have a shiny new camera, and I certainly owe you all an update!

December was a busy month in Varanasi. I had a lot of work on my plate, finishing up profiles on the 80 (!) children we support at school with scholarships. Meeting all of them was fun, though – I visited those from outlying areas around varanasi in their home communities, met their families and was welcomed in to their houses. The children who live in the Assi Ghat neighbourhood (where I live) and attend our tutoring program at Tulsi Kunj were interviewed at Tulsi Kunj when they came for tutoring. I already know many of these children from sitting in on the tutoring program, and chance meetings around the neighbourhood, so they were especially comfortable telling me about themselves, and it was a chance to get to know them each a little better. I’ll be making a post soon about a couple of these scholarship kids who are particularly special to me. The scholarship profile task was an excellent starting project for getting to know WLC, and the communities and people we serve, but by the end managing computer files of 80 different profiles became a pretty serious bureaucratic headache, and I was glad to be done!

December was also a month of celebration – Christmas, and my birthday two weeks before (aka the birthdaychristmas season). Naturally, this is a time when I expect to miss family and friends even more than usual, and I was certainly homesick, but I did have a really lovely birthdaychristmas. My birthday had the good sense to fall on a Sunday this year, so I celebrated with a leisurely day of doing nice things with Andria, Prashant, and our upstairs neighbours and good friends the 7 lovely Swedes (who have sadly since headed back to Sweden). We had a leisurely breakfast, took a boat across the river to fly kites and picnic (see left), and went out for a yummy dinner. Christmas was also really pretty great. Varanasi has no significant Christian population, so Christmas is pretty much a non-event here, but we made it an event ourselves. In the Ganga Mahal, we decorated a small Tulsi (sacred Indian basil) bush as a Christmas tree, with marigolds, bangles, beaded stings and paper snowflakes (see above). We were celebrating with our one remaining Swedish neighbour, and in Sweden Christmas is celebrated on the 24th, so we spread it out over two days. Our festive activities included a Latke and apple sauce making and eating party (see below), a trip to church (at a tiny unattractive chapel downtown where we lasted through maybe half an hour of the all hindi service before sneaking out), a small but fun dance party at the house of some international students in our neighbourhood, and exchanging gifts and opening stockings on Christmas morning. It was sad not to be with my family, but celebrating like this with friends was the best way to spend the day if I couldn’t be at home.


Then, just two days after Christmas, Andria, Prashant’s and my “Christmas vacation” of two and a half weeks began. We started it off all together, with a 41 hour train trip from Varanasi to Chennai, which is in South India on the East coast. The train ride sounds like a crazy ordeal, but it really wasn’t so bad. We rode in 3 AC class, which isn’t high and fancy, but is comfortable enough to sleep well at night, and the compartments are large enough that you don’t feel too cramped. I slept long and well through both nights, lulled to sleep by the rocking of the train, very much in keeping with all of my vague romantic notions about long distance train travel.

Arriving in Chennai was something of a shock. So far, Varanasi is all I’ve seen of India, and so although I knew in principle that this is a tremendously diverse country, to me Varanasi WAS India. Chennai is one of India’s biggest cities, and has some amazing things: beautifully paved roads. Shopping malls. Fancy bars and restaurants. Things I haven’t seen in a while. We spent our first night in Chennai staying with Prashant’s 82 year old, stone deaf, and totally delightful Aunt Agnes, who crammed us full of dosas and grilled fish and other yummy south Indian things, and grandmothered us extensively. The three of us also went for a walk on Marina beach, where we posed with this delightful cut out of Bollywood movie star Shahrukh Khan, and to a very strange bar in a very fancy hotel for a pre-newyears celebration. There was a motorcycle hanging from the ceiling, a separate “gentlemen only” floor, and Prashant was initially not allowed in because he was wearing sandals. Eventually the doorman in the plaid cummerbund and white gloves compromised and let him borrow a pair that they had lying around. So odd. The next day, we three parted ways – Prashant was headed to Sri Lanka, and Andria was catching a flight back to Delhi to meet a friend from Canada and travel in Rajasthan. (If you look at a map of India, you’ll understand just how…unusual… of a route from Varanasi to Delhi this was. I’m very glad she came south with us though!)

So my solo adventures began. I spent a couple of days exploring Chennai and being taken to various cultural events by my mother’s kind friend Devika, who also scored us an invitation to the New Years party at the Madras club, a holdover from colonial times and the exclusive hangout of the city’s Very Important People. There were fireworks, ice sculptures, gorgeous ladies in cocktail dresses (reminder to self: from now on, always pack cocktail dress when backpacking, just in case), a sumptuous buffet, copious amounts of champagne, and a dance floor under the stars. So I rang in the new year with Chennai’s beautiful people, then headed home to get a good night’s sleep before starting the next day for Pondicherry. This photo was taken out of the window of the bus:
Pondicherry is just a couple hours’ ricket bus ride south of Chennai on the east coast, and was once a French colony. It has a lovely seaside promenade, and an odd ashram founded by an Indian mystic and an odd French woman who everyone calls “the Mother” (now both long dead). Many people would say that Pondicherry doesn’t really have a lot of attractions. They would be wrong. What Pondicherry has, and what kept me there for two days, is fantastic French food! I’ve been eating superb home cooked North Indian food for 3 and a half months now, which is excellent (and for which I credit my good digestive health ever since I arrived) but a little variety was welcome. I expect the memories of those prawns and calamari in garlic butter followed by crème caramel to last me for a long, long time. From Pondicherry I continued to Mammalapuram, on the coast between Pondicherry and Chennai. Explored the amazing, ancient massive rock carvings there (including some temples carved out of solid rock, and a life-sized elephant!) and wandered along the beach. My dinner that night was somewhat delayed when the chef was arrested for unknown reasons in the midst of preparing my masala prawns, but other than that my night in Mammalapuram passed uneventfully.

The next day I got up early and set for Chennai, caught a train from there to Bangalore and then a second overnight train to Hospet, followed the train with a short rickshaw ride, and arrived in Hampi the next morning by 9 o’clock. Hampi was absolutely breathtakingly amazing, and the highlight of my trip.

Hampi was the capital of the Vijayanagar empire (which was apparently one of the larger empires in India’s history) for a couple of hundred years before its sacking in the 1500s, and the remaining ruins which dot the landscape are what have made the place so famous. There is a seemingly endless string of interesting ruined temples and palaces to be explored, but what really makes Hampi worth spending time in is the landscape. I have no idea what the geological explanation for that landscape is, but it’s amazing. All around the town are hills heaped with huge red boulders piled in the most unlikely configurations. Amidst the boulders, various ruined temples nestle here and there, and at the bottom of the hills runs a river surrounded by green farmer’s fields on both banks. It’s a gorgeous place just to scramble up a hill and (and I’m afraid I’m quoting the lonely planet here) “boulder watch”.

The ornate stone temples are amazing too, and I had one good day exploring them on foot on my own, and another ranging further afield with a fellow Torontonian who I met serendipitously at my guesthouse’s rooftop restaurant. Hampi was also an excellent place for leisurely lunches at the terraced Mango Tree restaurant (named after the giant tree it’s under), with a fantastic view down over the river, and generally taking things slowly. I had 4 fantastic days in Hampi.

From Hampi, I took a rather painful overnight bus (on a bunk that was probably a foot and a half wide and maybe 4 and a half feet long, with no room to sit up)to Goa, one of India’s smallest states, which is on the West coast south of Mumbai, and The Place to go to the beach. I arrived in Baga, generally in the north end of the state, stiff and ready for some R&R. Unfortunately Baga probably wasn’t the best place for R&R – it happens to be The Place for Europeans on package tours, and so the beach was wall to wall sun beds with pale skin roasting on them. Lots of hassle and hullabaloo, but I stayed somewhere fairly nice, had some more excellent continental meals (including one absurdly gourmet one with beef carpaccio, prawn ravioli in pesto, and earl grey tea icecream… *drool*). Also a home made buffalo ham sandwich from a German run café. Those Germans apparently know what to do with a buffalo!). Sorry, all this talk about western food is probably of no interest to those of you reading from home, but I feel like it’s important to record the experiences that were significant to me at the time, and buffalo ham? Very significant. Also, I had the peculiar experience of visiting my first night club in India, with another Canadian girl I met at my guesthouse. Fancy lounge chairs, a black lit dance floor and lots of trance music. Much of Goa feels more like your basic tropical vacation destination anywhere in the world, and it’s easy to forget you’re in India. I bought and wore a knee length spaghetti strapped sundress, and felt comfortable drinking a beer in public – two things I would never even consider doing in conservative Varanasi.

On my second last day in Goa I somehow got up at 7 the morning after going to the nightclub, and went to Palolem, more or less on a whim. Palolem is in the south of Goa, and while there’s lots of tourists there in high season (which it was), it’s much prettier and calmer. I stayed in a platform tent by the beach, made sandcastles and played and floated in the (rather small, but very warm) waves. That’s me on the last night of my trip, in Palolem, having a Kingfisher and reading The Brothers Karamazov on the beach.

I did the bulk of this trip completely solo – not totally new for me, but not something I’ve done a huge amount of before. I loved it! It’s seldom lonely – it’s easy to meet people along the way, especially when you’re on as much of a tourist circuit as I was on, and being a solo traveler means you can follow your own whims. Feel like splurging on a fancier hotel room? No guilt from your more responsibly frugal co-traveller. Want to extend your stay somewhere just so you can try something else you were eyeing on the menu of that cute restaurant you went to last night? No need to justify. Want to drop something ambitious from your itinerary because lying in the sun just sounds more appealing? Do it. Spending as much time as I wanted reading good books, listening to music, journaling or just staring in to space was also fantastic, and to use a Prashantism, “replenishing”. The warmth of the South at this time of year was also absolutely perfect after the chill of the North Indian “winter”. In spite of all that, though, I was pretty excited to see Andria at our rendezvous point at the Delhi train station. My flight from Goa to Delhi was uneventful and not particularly late, which meant I’d spent two hours shivering and alone in the train station, warding off annoying strange men by pretending to speak only French, by the time we were supposed to meet. There were lots of stories to tell, but I think we both passed out pretty quickly once we settled in to our bunks and the train started to move.

So, now I’m back in Varanasi – I have been for two weeks – and the time is flying by. I’m on to new projects with work, and can’t believe how soon this whole amazing experience is going to be over! We’ve just celebrated Republic Day – the anniversary of the date on which India adopted its constitution – with the kids at Tulsi Kunj. The kids put on quite the program of song and dance, from the 7 year old girls dancing to a song about a small cow, to the older boys shaking their hips to a popular bollywood number, and the teenaged girls dancing and marching in military garb to a popular patriotic song. Lots of fun, and as always it feels great to take part in celebrations with our community of staff and kids.

In other news, I’ve just purchased my first sari! Now all I need is an excuse to wear it…

Much love,
Emily

p.s. as per usual, there are lots more photos on my flickr page! www.flickr.com/photos/changelingx

Rural Visit

This journal entry was written last Sunday (November 26), but busyness has prevented its prior posting. Sorry!



This Thursday and Friday, Andria, Prashant and I went with a colleague to a rural area about an hour outside of Varanasi, to visit one of the small local NGOs that World Literacy of Canada supports. For Andria and Prashant, these NGO visits are an important part of their work, but I went along on the visit mostly for fun and interest’s sake. We stayed at the headquarters of the organization (the site of their office, their small clinic, and the family home of the founder), and spent our days rumbling around the countryside in a big SUV visiting the villages where they work. The roads were narrow, just wide enough for one car, and raised a few feet above the level of the farmers’ fields on either side. Although the roads can handle cars, cars are scarce, and so our passage met with a number of funny obstacles. We had to wait for various kinds of livestock to get off the road, of course (that goes without saying anywhere in India, in big city or small town), but we also had to squeeze past bicycles carrying huge loads of sticks on the back, stop where farmers had run fat irrigation hoses over the roads and call the hose’s owner to switch it off so it wouldn’t burst when we drove over it, and re-route our day’s visits after we were stopped by bamboo scaffolding in the middle of the road, where a gate to mark the entrance to a village was being constructed. In once case, a local farmer had dug an irrigation ditch a couple of feet deep right through the middle of the road, and our driver and a staff member of the NGO had to get out of the car and spend several minutes collecting loose paving stones to rebuild two small sections of the road, just wide enough to accommodate the two wheels of our car.



In the villages, we visited nursery schools for children, adult literacy classes for women, “gumpti” libraries (tiny libraries set up inside small wooden sheds), and various businesses and income generation activities which had been started with the assistance of small loans from the NGO. These included everything from general stores to seamstress shops to potato farms to buffalo and cattle kept for milk. At each site we were welcomed warmly and plied with cup after cup of hot chai and dishes of sweet biscuits (of the omnipresent “Parle G” brand).

I met many people during this visit, but two of them especially will stay with me. One of them was a tiny little girl named Rochni, not yet two years old. Usually, the children I meet here are a little bit afraid of me until they get to know me, especially in the villages where foreigners are not a common sight. Rochni was a little bit shy at first, hiding from me behind the skirt of her dress when we first arrived in her village, but when we started a walking tour of the village to visit some of the farms which had been supported by loans from the NGO, and she started to follow us holding the hand of another little girl who was maybe six, I offered her my hand to hold on the other side. She hesitated for a moment and then took it, and walked along between the two of us with a very serious look on her face. I think she was still a little unsure how she felt about me until the first time I hoisted her up by the arm and “flew” her over a puddle. After that, I was cool. Every time our hands were separated, she’d search around for me frantically, and the look of glee on her face as she soared over the puddles was delightful.



The other amazing memorable person I met was an old woman called Sakina. This is her. She was a member of one of the Mahila Mandals (women’s solidarity groups) in one of the villages we visited, and was also a member of their adult literacy class – in fact, she had been one of the main local advocates for setting it up a couple of years ago, because she wanted so badly to become literate. When the literacy class was first set up, and she first began to read and write, Sakina was in her 70s. Sakina has an account at the local bank, where she keeps the proceeds from the small shop she opened with the help of one of the NGO’s loans. In India, most banks allow their illiterate customers to sign for their accounts with thumb prints rather than signatures. Sakina has signed her name this way for most of her life, but she told us with pride that now, whenever she goes to the bank and they offer her the ink pad to make her thumb print, she pushes it away, reaches for a pen, and proudly writes “Sakina”.



It was wonderful to be away from the noise and grime and dust and madness of the city. In the evening, before dinner, Prashant and Andria and I lay on a shawl on the roof of the NGO’s office, watching a sky thick with more stars than I’ve yet seen in India, singing cheesy old campfire songs and wishing on the shooting stars. In the early morning the next day, we went for a walk along the narrow paths raised between the green, dewy fields. It was so quiet and peaceful and beautiful. I had started to think of India as always loud and crazy and busy, but that’s only one aspect of it.



This weekend has been good – on Saturday a dinner party at an international student residence near here, and on Sunday a visit to Ramnagar fort, which has belonged to Benarasi maharajas for something like a couple of centuries now. It’s now crumbling – although parts of it are occasionally restored to be part of movie sets – and houses a museum of the past and present Maharajas’ various interesting belongings, which are in an even greater state of decay than the fort itself. In the museum we saw decrepit palanquins and haudas (the enclosed seats that go on top of elephants) and cars, and carriages, the once-rich upholstery faded and torn to shreds. We saw the moth- and mouse-eaten elaborate clothing that once dressed maharajas and their wives, continuing to be chewed by moths and mice in the glass cases that now house them (there were actual mouse droppings on some of the fabric) and a stuffed alligator that was so decayed that you could see more of the taxidermist’s mold under the skin than of the actual skin itself. The hilight of the museum was a collection of stunningly delicate ivory carvings. Harvesting ivory is a cruel process, but it was good to see the material respected so deeply in the attention given to each minute detail of the carving.



Ramnagar fort is on the Ganga’s east bank, and we live on the west. We crossed the river on foot across the recently completed pontoon bridge, constructed of a series of planks on top of large floating tanks. The bridge creates a bit of a bouncing and swaying sensation as you cross, and the bicycles and motorbikes sharing the bridge made the crossing a bit nerve wracking, but it was really quite beautiful to be able to stand out in the middle of the river and look out at the city curving away along its western bank. Crossing back in the early evening, we got to see, for the first time, the sun setting over the Ganga.

Love,
Emily

Children's Day and Daily Work

I’m back.
Nothing terrible has befallen me. I have no especially good reason for this massive lapse in blogging. I just threw myself completely in to life and work here in Varanasi, and finding time to take a step back, reflect, write about it all and get an update online has been difficult. Sorry! I’ll try to stay more on top of it from now on.

Life and work here is developing a routine. There is no longer the complete freshness to absolutely every experience which once compelled me to blog every other day, but things are still good, and still exciting. I am beginning to feel more and more at home here – I run in to people I know on the Ghats every day, and have my routines – the place Andria and I often have sweets and yoghurt for breakfast, the guy we buy chai from, the nest of puppies I visit daily. Coming home from a day of fieldwork, when I walk down my street I am greeted by high voices shouting out “Emily-didi namaste!” (hello, big sister Emily), by the neighbourhood children who know me from my visits to their tutoring sessions. (Their greetings have been especially hearty since we held a Halloween party, painted everyone’s faces, played all kinds of games and distributed candy!) I’ve never been greeted that warmly walking up my street in Toronto.


I feel more and more at home in my work environment too. I work in a place full of smart, kind, funny people, many of them quite young, and their generosity to and concern for me, as well as their willingness to constantly translate things and help me understand what the heck is going on around me is deeply appreciated. After a crazy day last week, several of us unwound from the stress of the day by laughing ourselves silly batting a balloon around the courtyard of our office, and holding a competition to see who could slurp tea for the longest. There’s nothing like being completely silly with a group of people to make you feel like you belong. Of course, at the core of all of this comfort and belonging is our little intern family of me, Andria and Prashant. I don’t think I could pick better people to be sharing these adventures with.

The aforementioned crazy day was Children’s Day, celebrated on November 14th, the birthday of Nehru (India’s first Prime Minister) in recognition of his love for and commitment to children. WLC celebrated the day by holding a huge gathering for over 300 children in a field near our office. Kids who attend the programming at Tulsi were invited, and those from the preschool (“balwadi”) programs in the rural areas and urban slums were bussed in for the day. We rented a stage and a sound system. Snacks were provided… and then they had to be entertained for six hours.



Several of the GM staff came up with great forms of entertainment – a play with WLC staff pretending to be ragamuffin children and WLC students playing the role of the adult staff who convinced them to go to school, a spelling competition with a human alphabet, a competition for the child with the best costume of Nehru, Ghandi, or other historical figures who fought for India’s independence. But Andria and Prashant and I had also volunteered to come up with some entertainment, and we did. Prashant got a group of small kids singing a half-hindi, half-english version of “Old Macdonald Had A Farm” (which was a big hit, and has left all of us at the office wandering around humming “Bow Bow Yaha, Bow Bow Waha, Yaha Bow, Waha Bow, Sab Jaga Bow Bow” ever since). Andria and I organized three legged races and an onstage championship round of that game where you dance around until the music stops and then you have to freeze. We also got 300 kids more or less doing both “Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes” and “The Hokey Pokey”. Many of them confused right and left, but most of them did shake various parts of their body about and turn themselves around, so we considered it a success.



For Andria, Prashant and I, our most solemn commitment to the Children’s Day festivities was a dance. A piece of original choreography, performed by us. I’m not sure what we were thinking when we offered to do this, but once we were roped in to it we practiced on and off for a couple of weeks, and certainly created something … original… -- a 10-minute piece spanning African dance, irish dance, swing, broadway and rock and roll. It was a bit of a ridiculous production, and the children stared at us in stunned silence throughout, but reports are that it was a big hit. I hope we didn’t scar any children for life.



Children’s day was a wonderful, festive-feeling day. The children we work with are a real delight. Such a variety of ages and talents and quirks and personalities. Some of them are such thoughtful, interesting people. Many of them are ridiculously cute. Having all of them together for a huge celebration especially intended to celebrate them felt right. If they had nearly as much fun as I did then the crazy chaos of the day was very much worthwhile.

At the moment, the project I’m working on is updating our profiles and basic information on all of the children we have under scholarship. To begin with, I’ve been doing this at what we call the UCP (for Urban Community Project) sites. These are the sites in other parts of the city, or its outskirts, where we have women’s groups, adult literacy classes, preschools, and now also offer scholarships to send some of the most promising young pupils in the area to good schools. It has been my job, with the help of my colleagues who manage the literacy programs in those areas, to go to the home of every single child, meet them and their family, check up and see how they’re doing, and get to know them a little bit.


I’ve visited children from a vast range of communities and family structures and homes, and heard their often heart wrenching stories first hand, as well as the bright and funny parts like how much they like playing with baby goats, or why they shaved their doll’s head. It’s been hard to have so little time with each child, and to be forced to work through a translator, but it’s been fascinating, and often pretty fun. Some of the children are so shy they refuse to look at me. Others chatter away, perform dances for me, show me their toys. In each child, though, and in his or her family, there is a sense of pride that they are attending one of the best schools in the city, and an optimism about the opportunities that WLC’s assistance is opening to them.

I can’t wait til I can speak more Hindi with the kids I meet for a short time, and especially with those who I see daily in the neighbourhood and at Tulsi Kunj, and who I will come to know better and better over the next few months. I’m taking a Hindi class now – Andria and go twice a week, for a private lesson with one of the best teachers in Varanasi. (Thank you, Canadian government, for paying for that!) Already I can communicate simple things – tell someone my name, exchange greetings, count to ten, ask a child to smile for the camera, explain that I don’t understand much hindi. Being surrounded by the language constantly also makes things easier – I hear the new vocabulary I’m studying popping up constantly in the conversations between my colleagues at the office, pushing me to learn it quickly if I want to eavesdrop effectively!

For the last couple of days, Andria and Prashant have been away visiting an organization out of town that WLC supports. I stayed here because of my workload, and so I’ve had this floor of the Ganga Mahal all to myself in the evenings. It’s quiet, and feels empty. I’ve been reading, catching up on work, and pushing myself to finally write all this. It’s getting close to midnight as I finish this. Dogs are barking outside on the Ghat, and the monkeys have been going a little crazy all night since one of them got dazzlingly electrocuted by a power line earlier in the evening. Crickets are chirping, and the crazy rat that keeps me awake at night is running around the building squeaking, because it does that just to spite me. In a few minutes I’ll pull on my cozy flannel pajamas (cause it’s actually cool enough for them now! Hooray!), switch out the light and tuck myself in to the cocoon of my pepto bismol coloured mosquito net, and sleep until the morning ceremonies start on the Ghat. Actually, I’ll probably sleep through that too – the things that once startled me out of sleep now feel familiar. Background noise.


I do miss home, but life here is starting to feel like another home, too. I’m feeling comfortable, welcomed and useful, and I’m learning so much. I’ll try to do a better job of being in touch, but I think when my life here becomes so absorbing that I struggle to find the time to keep on top of a blog, that’s probably not a bad sign. This is a very full life I’m leading here, and I’m grateful for that.

Much Love,
Emily

P.S. It now really is possible to comment on my blog without signing in. The messed up settings are fixed. I’d love to know who’s reading this!

P.P.S. more photos available on my flickr account! www.flickr.com/photos/changelingx