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

Diwali

Hello all,
first of all, I just discovered that the comments on this blog were set to allow blogger members only. I've fixed that, so anyone should be able to comment. Second, I now have some photos online! I'll post a few in to my blog entries, but for a wider selection, look at my flickr page:
emily's flickr

Diwali weekend is drawing to a close. Diwali is a festival of lights, symbolizes the triumph of good over evil, has a variety of mythological tie-ins (the only one of which i understand has to do with the return of Ram and Sita from exile, when lights were lit to welcome them back to their kingdom) and is also considered by some to mark the beginning of a new year. It seems to have a variety of ceremonial, mythological and symbolic significances which i don't know enough about to explain properly, but i have now experienced how it's celebrated in Varanasi, and it's pretty wild!

Diwali itself was on Saturday. On Friday, Andria, Prashant and i braved the madness that is pre-Diwali shopping in order to get some nice Indian outfits for Andria and i to wear on Diwali. I think we had reasonable success:





On Friday, in the early evening, some of the staff organized a Diwali celebration for the kids at Tulsi Kunj, which was wild but really fun. I hadn't realized that Diwali was a fireworks celebration. It is. Once most of the Tulsi kids had gathered, a few kids were encouraged to sing songs, tell jokes, or recount the stories behind Diwali for the assembled audience, and then the pyromania began. Tulsi Kunj is a building with mostly marble interiors, and a courtyard in the middle surrounded by balconies. The fireworks were lit off in the middle of the courtyard inside the building, with at least 100 kids crowding around. It was a little scary, but turned out to be safe enough and the kids were pretty gleeful, clapping and shrieking with delight at the showers of glittering sparks. They each got a box of sparklers, too, and went nuts with them. It was a crazy, joyful start to a beautiful Diwali weekend.










On Saturday we had lunch at one colleague's house, but other than that it was a slow day, broken by the comical interlude of trying to rescue Prashant's swim trunks, which had fallen from the balcony to a platform far below the balcony, but still far off the ground using only a frying pan on a long piece of string.



There was also a beautiful heavy afternoon rain which left the air and earth feeling clean and fresh. In the early evening, two of the WLC staff who live across the lane from the office came over to lead us in a pooja at the Ganga Mahal, involving a simple ceremony before the statues of Ganesh and Laxmi, and the lighting of candles and oil lamps in the courtyard and in every room in the building. The Ganga Mahal lit by candlelight was a beautiful thing, but we had to rush away to the home of another colleague who had invited us to dinner at his family's house on the University campus. We spent a lovely evening with his family, who welcomed us warmly and allowed us to join in their own pooja, delicious family dinner, and lighting of beautiful fireworks in front of the house. Diwali celebrations seem to place an emphasis on the home and family, so having the opportunity to be part of a family celebration was wonderful.

From dusk til the wee hours of the morning, the air was filled with the constant bangs, flashes and sparkles of fireworks all over the city. Riding home in a rickshaw late in the evening, we watched the sky light up with red and green and blue and silver stars, as our rickshaw dodged children lighting off small but deafeningly loud firecrackers in the streets. When we got home, we discovered the swedish students who live upstairs from us, but whom we had yet to befriend, were holding a fireworks party on the roof of the Ganga Mahal. We were invited up to join them, and saw for the first time the breathtaking view of the river and city that this building's roof commands. There were still constant fireworks in every direction, and we watched them for a while as we talked with our new acquaintances, before going in for late night chai and conversation.

Tonight, again, there are fireworks all over the city -- leftovers from yesterday, i suppose. it sounds like the city is under siege, but by now they've become background noise to me, and I'm sure I'll sleep soundly tonight.

I'll finish this with two photos: one of the Assi Ghat and river bank in front of our house in the early morning light:



and the next of a message painted on one of the Ghats downriver from here:



Fortunate indeed.

kids and field visits and diwali and style!

The last three days have been packed and fascinating and overwhelming. I spent Monday and much of Tuesday at Tulsi Kunj where the kids program is, sitting in on the various classes and tuturoials, getting to know the kids,helping out where I could and learning some new Hindi words on the fly. All of the kids greet me with an enthusiastic "Didi namaste!" ("Hello, big sister!"), which I love. The littlest ones are absolutely adorable 4 and 5-year-olds non-schoolgoers who all match in their pale orange and chocolate brown Tulsi Kunj uniforms (produced by the organization's income generation project that teaches impoverished women to sew). These kids are working to learn the Hindi and English alphabets, and the basics of counting, before being admitted to a formal school. On Tuesday morning, the teacher asked me to work one on one with a tiny little girl, younger than the others and somewhat behind them. I went through some letters and numbers with her, getting her to copy them and repeat their names, which she did in a soft little voice, with a big grin when i praised her work. Throughout the whole hour she kept her eyes fixed on me almost continuously in a wide-eyed soul-searching gaze to the point that i could barely get her to glance at the alphabet book we were "reading" together, but she definitely stared her way into my heart.

Some of the older school-going kids, who come for tutoring in the afternoon, are learning English. I spent some time helping a couple aged around 10 or 11 with reading from their primers, but the lessons must be frustrating for them, as English seems to be taught fairly unsystematically, using old books that are obviously intended for kids who speak English as a first language, and are filled with bits about rosy cheeks and weathercocks and other irrelevant vocabulary. Many of the kids can sound out more than they can understand, which certainly sucks any joy out of reading. Some of the kids who attend "English Medium" schools also struggle with math problems written in English terms that have never been explained -- although they grasp the math itself, they have never been told what "the product of 3 and 8" means.

The kids involved in our program come from pretty poor families. Over the last few days I've had the chance to accompany a colleague on a couple of home visits, and to listen to stories about some of the difficult home environments, histories and financial situations of the kids I'm getting to know, and some of them are truly heartrending. But the other evening, as I sat with Andria and Prashant drinking chai on the ghat, and some of the kids from our program greeted us, chattered to us and skipped up and down the stone steps around us, I was reminded of how fully these children still know how to be kids, full of life and eagerness and humour. Working with them promises to be an absolute delight.

Wednesday was a crazy and exhausting day. Andria and i boarded our organization's little auto-rickshaw to accompany the driver on a visit to some fo the communities on the other side of the river. WLC has a series of program sites there, to assist women and their children. Each site is focussed around a Mahila Mandel (Women's association). Women who participate in these groups are also welcomed into a Social Enterprise Program (SEP) which currently consists of instruction on dressmaking. They are also invited to adult literacy classes, where they learn reading, writing and simple math (which is especially important if they are to run profitable small businesses), as many have never been to school. Balwadi (nursery school/kindergarten) programs are also provided for their young children, providing a daily hour of respite for mothers, and preparing the kids to attend school.

The WLC driver was due to visit all the Balwadis across the river yesterday, to distribute bananas (as they have a once-weekly fruit distribution day). It was fun to spend a little time seeing how the classes are taught, meeting the kids (many frantic cries of "Didi namaste!" followed us all day) and helping to pass out the two bananas apiece in to their eager little hands. At the first site we visited, we picked up the area's literacy supervisor who co-ordinates her supervisory visits with the banana rounds, and with her we also had the opportunity to visit a couple of adult literacy classes (ALCs).

The women in the ALCs range from their mid teens to the quite elderly. Beginning students are first taught to write their names, and then begin to work through fourlevels of readers, each containing stories meant to be of particular interest to women. I was shown one about a female freedom fighter (with a clear message of feminine capability and empowerment) and another that discussed the challenges of a large family and the basics of family planning. The women in the program seem very determined and proud of their new literacy skills, and many have learned to read remarkably well in a relatively short time.

The women we met were very kind and welcoming to us, and our colleagues gave them the opportunity, thorugh their translation, to grill us with questions about Canada in general, the landscape, public transportation, our jobs, families, houses, our ages, whether or not we were married, what kinds of food we like to eat, and so on. It often feels like as the Canadian visitors we get to ask all the questions, and the program beneficiaries are stuck in the role of being passive and questioned. So it was great (and fun) to have that reversed. Andria and i were even pressured in to singing a Canadian song(we chose O Canada out of sheer desperation)which was fairly ammusing to them, but was no match for the improvised welcome songs a few of them sang to us.

Yesterday's field visit turned into an almost nine-hour excursion, and we were exhausted by the end of it. Today has been a bit more manageable -- we went out with the driver again, but this time just for a couple of hours, to run similar errands to the project sites in and around some slum neighbourhoods within Varanasi itself. In the afternoon, while we were at Tulsi Kunj, the deadly heat was broken by a sudden strong wind which stirred up a cool, gritty dust storm. I went outside to investigate,and ended up dancing and "flying" ecstatically in the cool wind for a good ten minutes with one of the Tulsi kids, before my eyes just got too gritty to handle it any more. The dust storm was follwed by a light rain, and the air cooled off dramatically, and has been cool all evening. I'm hoping rather desperately that this means that the varanasi "winter" (which isn't as cold as ours, but actually gets positively chilly at night, i'm told) is almost here.

This weekend is Diwali, the festival of lights. Everyone in the city is in a frenzy of prepariation -- we see houses being panstakingly cleaned and repainted wherever we go -- and yet I haven't bought a single nice Indian outfit yet to wear for the occasion. I'm planning a slightly frantic shopping trip for tomorrow morning. Wish me luck...

Oh wait, one last afterthought of an anecdote: At one of the ALCs, one of the women asked why Canadian women took less care with making themselves looked nice (by this point in the day i was dripping with sweat, my hair stood out in all directions and my not-very-fancy clothes were wrinkled and dirty, while the women in the village we were visiting were neatly coiffed, beautifully dressed and looked mysteriously cool and collected). Our young female colleague fielded the question for us, and explained to them that we looked so tousled because in Canada we are always so busy with work that we just throw on our clothes and go -- no time for makeup or careful hair styling! I'm not sure how i feel about the accuracy of that explanation, though in this heat it's certainly the attitude i've adopted. I tried to tell the women that i actually do know how to make myself look nice but a straightening iron and foundation just don't work in a million degree heat, but i'm not sure the message got through. I'm afraid I'm not representing Canadian women at their lovliest!

Emily

temples and scrabble

It's been a pretty cool weekend. We're starting to settle in and feel more and more comfortable here, and are exploring further and further each day. Saturday morning Andria and i caught a cycle rickshaw to BHU (Benares Hindu University), which has a huge, beautiful, lush green campus which was a delight after the dust and haze and smoke of the city. We visited the huge hindu temple there, which is a magnificent buildling with marble columns and marble floors, people doing devotions at the central shiva shrine and other smaller ones to ganesh, hanuman, and various other deities, and students studying in various nooks and archways. Andria and i found a stone gazebo in the gardens next to the temple, with cool marble benches, pulled out the all-important game of travel scrabble she brought, and played scrabble and talked in the shade. This is our new way of exploring the city -- searching for bearably cool places to play scrabble.

On sunday morning, while out on our hunt for breakfast, Andria decided she was craving cucumber and bought one. at least she thought she did. While we were sitting having our yogurt at the yogurt and sweet shop, she cut into it and discovered it was some other kind of spongy long dark-green vegetable that may have been vaguely akin to a zucchini. We didn't know what to do with it -- we used a piece of the spongy end she'd cut off to mop up the yogurt i spilled on the table, but then we ran out of uses for it, and Andria was stuck carrying around a mystery vegetable and feeling a bit silly, especially when a rickshaw-wallah called out to us "madam! madam!" as they always do, and then paused in confusion and said questioningly "sabji?" ("vegetable?"). Shortly thereafter, Andria gave it to a little beggar girl, who seemed reasonably happy to take it off our hands, and may actually have some idea of what to do with it. We think that we've since figured out what an actual cucumber looks like here.

By 9 on Sunday the two of us set out on a day trip to Sarnath, the town just outside Varanasi where the Buddha preached his first sermon. Because of its importance to Buddhism, most of the major buddhist countries have set up temples there, including India, Japan, China, Korea, Burma, 2 from Tibet, and probably some more. It was pretty interesting to visit a bunch of the different temples -- we went to the Chinese, Japanese, Indian and both Tibetan temples -- and see the differences between them. Some were huge and ornate, and others were really quite simple, but all carried a similar feeling of reverence and holiness. There are quite a lot of east asian tourists around Sarnath, and buddhist monks (who also mostly seem east or south east asian)everywhere. Another one of the major attractions in Sarnath are a deer park (big open grassy park. with deer.) which is there because buddha preached his first sermon in a deer park, so at some point it was recreated to mark the spot. We saw some deer and lay in the grass there for a bit, but it was kind of itchy and not as exciting as we thought it might be. Sarnath also has a museum, with various ancient buddhist stone carvings excavated there. Many of the carvings were very beautiful, but most importantly the museum was air conditioned! we definitely basked in that for a little longer than we absolutely needed to. it is hot as hell here.

We had yummy tibetan food for lunch at a tiny little hole in the wall restaurant -- tasty dumplings and noodles and vegetables and things, and played scrabble over lunch as we hid from the noonday sun. In the early afternoon we caught another auto-rickshaw (tiny little three-wheeled car thing, open on the sides and not so different from a motorcycle) back through the heat and pollution and crazy crazy traffic and random cows and buffalo, lazed about in the afternoon, and were asleep by 9.

This morning i've been up since 5. it's almost 7 now, and i'm going to head out to the Ghat soon to get some chai from our favourite chai wallah, and sit on the steps and watch the life on the riverbank for a while. Today is our first work day, but I think this week will mostly be spent in visiting project sites for orientation purposes before any real work starts. i still have over two and a half hours until the office day begins, though. I'm really enjoying this new rhythm of early mornings and early bed times, though i doubt i'll keep it up in Toronto!
Emily

day 3

Today was another day off work to explore and find our bearings. Andria and i started it this morning with a boat ride down the ganga at sunrise, leaving just before 6 a.m. The river was dotted with other boats carrying other tourists, but in spite of that it was a beautiful and peaceful experience. We rowed past Ghat after ghat, past people bathing and praying and fishing and selling, past laundry wallahs washing clothes in the river on flat stones, past the strange old buildings and high flights of stone steps leading down to the river. the sunrise itself was stunning -- I hope to start sharing some photos on here in the next couple of days. Then we went wandering in some of the streets just around Assi Ghat (our neighbourhood) to find some fresh yoghurt and sweets for breakfast, which we ate out of little clay pots in the quiet, dark back corner of a local sweet shop.

after a slow morning, we spent the afternoon on a crazy Prashant-guided exploration of two of the most famous gullies. The gullies are the narrow lanes that run between the streets all over the city, and the ones we walked through today were little markets, with vendors selling bangles and bindis and statues and saris and antiques and sweets. Andria and i were both on a bit of a clothes shopping mission, and i bought the most comfortable turquoise light cotton kurta pajama (trousers and a matching long tunic). We walked for a couple of hours in the midday heat, which was exhausting in spite of the shade of the narrow gullies. Finally we took a cycle rickshaw home along one of the major roads, all three of us crammed in together on the one narrow seat. That was another somewhat hairy traffic experience, and i frequently had to remind myself about my philosophy of passivity when using public transportation in third world countries -- scary as it is i probably won't die, and there's not really much i can do in that situation to prevent an accident, except to live in fear and never use public transportation, which would just be silly.
On the way home we stopped by Tulsi Kunj to visit the childrens' tutoring sessions, where we saw kids from 5 to their mid-teens being tutored in everything from the alphabet to algebra. The amount of individual attention our programming is able to give to each child, and the engagement and interest they seem to have with their lessons is remarkable -- plus they're all really charming kids. I'm excited to get to know them better during my internship, when i'm supposed to be doing some direct work with them (among various other responsibilities).

I can't believe how tired the heat makes me. It's just before 8 here, i had a long nap from 5 til 6:30, and i think i'm about to head back to bed. I hope to get some photos up in the next couple of days, but i also want to plug my co-intern's blog,
www.prashart.blogspot.com
he's a very talented watercolour artist, and already has some really beautiful paintings up from the last few days since we arrived (plus one of andria andi playing scrabble in the delhi airport at 4:30 in the morning!)

Love Emily

Day 2

I've arrived! I'm posting a couple of entries from yesterday and earlier today.

Oct. 12, morning
I awoke at 5:06 this morning to the Ding! Ding! Ding! Of a bell being rung for a morning pooja (prayer) on the riverbank below us. The sky was light and rainbow-hued in the east across the river, and people and animals were moving about. Prashant was still sleeping, so Andria and I ventured out for the first time without his guidance, climbing down the stone steps to the area near the river, and heading to a chai shop for tea. We passed several groups of women gathered in circles chanting and doing something with flowers and holy water in the middle of the circle – some kind of pooja. At the chai shop, a little stall right on one of the sets of steps, a young boy of about 10 intruduced himself to us as Bablo, and started to talk with us in remarkably good English. He was the nephew of the chai-wallah, and talked to us about his family, Varanasi, and other foreigners he has met, and asked us a lot about ourselves and Canada. When we were done our tea and ready to go for an exploratory walk, he offered to be our guide. We wandered along the river, passing people bathing in the river up to their necks at some of the Ghats. Several boys and girls, no older than 7 or 8, followed us for a while trying to convince us to buy the candles they were selling, to launch them on the river and “bring good karma”. As they walked with us they chattered to us about various subjects in hindi and English, and one little girl named Nandini pointed out a troupe of monkeys leaping across the balconies above us, and told me their hindi name. After a while we left the river, and Bablo led us through some of the narrow, winding streets between the houses and shops and high walls, dodging the odd motercycle or child or cow. It was good to start to see what the city looks like as you move away from the waterfront.

Afternoon:
The morning at the office started at 9:30 with the ataff I’d met yesterday, a few new ones, and six of the kids from the morning’s childrens’ programming gathering for morning prayer, and then the morning was spent in getting to know the staff, and a visit to Tulsi Kunj, the new building around the corner that was just acquired, to see it and visit the childrens’ program which has now been moved there. The building is beautiful – two stories of marble floors and white archways around a courtyard – and the spaces where we plan to have the new library Andria’s working on, and the gallery/boutique for the items sewn by the womens’ income generation projects are perfect sizes and well laid out. The ground floor, where the childrens’ program is located, has a number of lovely small classrooms. The childrens’ program serves 2 groups of kids – those who are in school but need extra help with homework, tutoring etc (from poor families, and often with illiterate parents), and those kids who are not in school but are hoping that, with some extra help, they can catch up and pass school entrance exams. Ths morning the group at Tulsi Kunsj were non-schoolgoers, mostly little girls of about six or seven. It was fun to visit their classroom, make weak attempts to greet them in Hindi, and check out some of the classroom’s beautiful Varanasi handmade wooden toys, one of which Andria and I used to practice our shaky hindi counting on in front of a classroom full of children, to general amusement.
After the Tulsi visit, Pravin took us to visit a very ancient holy place – a kind of very deep well, with rough stone steps leading down to it on three sides, perhaps a100 feet down. Near the bottom of the steps is a shrine to the sun, and apparently during the monsoon season, when the water level rises to cover the shrine, it is believed that the combined power of the holy river Ganga and the sun make the site even more powerful. This is a site of pilgrimage and bathing for women hoping for fertility. There was no-one else there, and we were able to sit in silence for a few minutes. It was breathtaking – I wish I had a photo to share, but photography there wasn’t ok.
We’ve had another yummy Indian lunch, and are now hanging about and dozing for a bit. This afternoon we meet with the managers to discuss our work plans for the next six months. This place is wild, and I love it.

upon arrival

Oct. 11

I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. It’s hard to believe. The voyage here was a draining ordeal – a 7-hour flight to Amsterdam, a 4 hour stopover, an 8 hour flight to Delhi, almost 12 hours in the Delhi airport, then an hour’s flight to Varanasi. By the end of the journey (39 hours door to door) we were barely dragging our weary bodies through the airport chaos. We’d slept briefly in all kinds of odd ways and places – on the plane, twisted in the seat, curled up on top of our suitcases in the Delhi airport. The relief of stepping off the last plane and discovering that all of our luggage had actually arrived, and then seeing one of our organizatoin’s managers beaming and waving at us was a wonderful moment of relief.
We were greeted warmly, and driven in to Delhi in a jeep with the luxury of A/C – much appreciated in the 30something degree heat. The drive in to town from the airport, which is on the edge of town, took close to an hour, and Andria (the other Canadian-born intern) and I satred transfixedly out of the window. At first, the streets were tree-lined, and the cars and people were relatively few, but soon the trees petered out, the dusty haze grew thicker, and there were cars and trucks and men and women and children and cattle and sheep and goats all fighting ffor a spot on the narrow road between the jumbled shops and ramshackle stalls selling everything imaginable. The car was hardly moving quickly, but it was still passing things too quickly for me to process and comprehend what I was seeing. Finally, we turned down a narrow alleyway between decrepit buildings, forcing pedestrians to flatten themselves against the wall to let us past, and stopped just behind our new office and home, the Ganga Mahal, giving us our first view of the sacred river Ganga.
We were greeted by several of the WLC managers, and by Meeraji, the housekeeper of the Ganga Mahal, and the woman who will be cooking us two yummy Indian meals each day. Meeraji performed the traditional welcoming ceremony of placing garlands of marigolds around our necks and streaking our foreheads with orange. The garland is hanging by my bedside now, and I inhale its sweetness every time the stench of open sewers and other interesting things wafts overwhelmingly through the window.
We stood on the balcony overlooking the river for a little while, drinking sweet milky chai and talking with our new colleagues, until fatigue overwhelmed me and Andria, and we excused ourselves to pass out for a couple hours in the clean, pleasant little room we’ll be sharing. When I woke at six, to the sound of a bell being rung as part of an evening prayer,I was disoriented and unsure for a few moments where I was. The sun had set, and the Ghat (stone steps to the river) was lit with candles and lamps. The third intern, Prashant, had been out for a few hours. He was here for three months last winter to volunteer, and knew exactly how he wanted to spend his first few hours here – he took a boat out to the middle of the river, where it’s cleanest, and dove in, and then made his rounds greeting old friends around the neighbourhood. He returned just as we woke up, and we sat down to the superb meal of an eggplant and potato dish, daal and chapattis that meeraji had prepared. In the evening we went for a short walk on the ghants, with prashant guiding us, and stopping to greet his acquaintances at the chai stalls. He speaks pretty good Hindi, and so is able to communicate with everyone and do a little translating for us. Though it was early in the evening it was completely dark out, and lamps hung from posts near the river – a part of the lead-up to the Diwali, the coming festival of light, these are lit for the ancestors. We bought little candles nestled among marigolds in a bowl made from a pressed leaf, and lanunched them amongst the others on the Ganga, as a little prayer as thanksgiving. After a quick email-check (we have high speed here in the Ganga Mahal, which is a nice comfort) we collapsed wearily in to bed.

By Way of Introduction

The title up there makes basics pretty obvious, but by way of formal introduction, here they are:
I'm a Canadian girl, born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, on Monday i board a plane to Varanasi, India, and I'm pretty excited about it. That pretty much covers the premise of this blog.

After graduating from McGill in the spring i started applying for CIDA (Canadian International Development Agency) internships in various parts of the world, especially South Asia. CIDA internships are government funded placements with various NGOs -- basically a free trip, a few months of living and meaningful work overseas, and fantastic professional experience. I was lucky enough to get a pretty cool one -- I have been placed with a tiny Canadian organization which works almost entirely in India, focussing on adult and child literacy and the empowerment of women. Their Indian branch office is located in Varanasi, in northern India, and after a month of getting to know the Canadian office and the basic workings of the organization, I leave on Monday to spend the next six months living and working in Varanasi!

Varanasi sounds like a pretty amazing place. It's located on the bank of the Ganges, and is considered one of the holiest places in Hindu religion -- it is believed t hat those who die and are cremated there ascend directly to heaven. It's a 3000 year old city, and a major place of pilgrimage. It is also located in one of the very poorest states of India.

During my internship, i will be attached to World Literacy's childrens' projects, helping to administer some of their programs,
conducting some research on the health of children in their programs, and even doing a bit of work directly with the kids. I am travelling with two other very cool Canadian interns, and the three of us will be working separately but living together in the organization's headquarters, a former palace (although smallish and run down as palaces go) overlooking the river.

The last few weeks have been pretty crazy with full time work at the Toronto office and the stress of preparing for departure, but as the stress of preparation winds down I'm growing more and more excited. I think this is going to be a pretty weird/wonderful six months.

Love Emily