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