I’ve had to take a step back from posting all my village pictures so that I could get down and dirty in data. This may seem like a downer, but I am drawing so much strength from the responses these women have given. Each is a beautiful reflection of a woman who is living, breathing, challenging, celebrating, loving and being. Some reflect strong resolve. Some unintentionally show vulnerability. All of them share the same theme: community. They love one another as they learn. It is so validating to know that the feelings I experienced so strongly were right; they are so very special. They love and respect one another. Beyond the materials provided and skills learned, these women are growing and imparting life’s lessons to one another and supporting change. One woman explained how since participating the Gyan Chaupali programme she has decided to send her youngest child (a nine year of GIRL) to an English-medium school. Her husband has also supporter her by taking on more work so she can pause her livelihood activities and focus on her studies. In another case, the opposition within the home was so significant the woman was considering not attending anymore. After discussing the challenges with her villages sisters, a group of women went to her home and convinced the family of the value of her education. She hasn’t experienced any problems since then. I absorb all of these stories, recognizing the lives associated with each one of them. Their impact at this point seems immeasurable. How do I quantify or explain what has happened to my soul? I am challenged when I think of how much I have learned and wonder what I can give in return. Which is why I am in the office. Writing. It’s all that I have at this point, to convince the organization I am aligned with to make some small, yet meaningful changes for these women. They have given me a gift and I hope to repay them in some small way. Though ultimately, it is outside of my power to grant them the changes they seek for. But I will support them. I will believe in them. I will call them my sisters and continue to trust in the immense strength and solidarity of women who gather together. Who support one another. I am with you, sister. Always. I must offer an immense thank you to all the men in this world who support women. Here is Gunjesh, my supervisor, writing the final translation for my 34 questionnaires so I could analyze the responses. Gunjesh, your efforts are so appreciated. My journey would not have been possible without your support in the office. THANK YOU!
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During a particularly tumultuous emotional period here, a friend encouraged me to offer compassion and love to everything that entered my life, be it in passing or not. He asked if I had ever reached that point in my life where I could offer love freely and without condition… and it was easy for me to identify it. Maybe some of you reading this were in my life at that time. I had been on a high from finding a faith I could believe and express my heart’s will in. I had the relative freedom of living outside of my parents’ home and a new city to explore and enjoy. I was challenged intellectually at school and emotionally making new friendships and bonds, though I was still naive in learning how to express these new feelings. I laugh now. One day I told a boy I had a few casual dates with that I wasn’t "in love with him” but that I loved him. Haha. Bad move Ashley. I never had a chance to explain that I felt like I could see the goodness within and was so happy to be able to feel that with him. I just felt love and shared it without reservation. Some could accept it. Some obviously could not. (No surprise on what happened in the above example!) But things changed, gradually, as I began to care about whether that love was reciprocated. My worth and love became dependent on who gave it back to me. I began trying to fill holes and "fix people." And so I find myself back in that space of love almost 15 years later. But this time, with no expectations.
There are plenty of instances here in India where the people I wanted most to like me, don’t. For perhaps the first time in my life I can say its ok. Not from a place of roughness or callousness. That’s easy. But I can say it’s ok for them not to give back while still offering love. It’s healing. It’s natural and honest to who I am at my core. This lesson has perhaps been the most transformative. Watch out world… I love you ;) While I was in the early stages of preparing for this internship, a friend of mine was touring India with her husband and I nearly cried each time she posted: it all seemed so magical. Perhaps some of you reading this can relate. It is. It truly is. One particular place that stole my heart so many months ago looking through her pictures was the city of Varanasi, set on the banks of the river Ganga. I live a twelve-hour train ride (plus delays) away, but it was unequivocally THE must-see place on my list while I’m here. This past weekend, I got to experience the magic first-hand. Luckily I had some insider information letting me know that the city celebrates a special occasion, Dev Deepawali, that happens on the full moon of Kartika, 15 days after Diwali. The ghats (steps) on the riverfront are adorned by light earthen lamps and in honor of the river goddess. Oh my heck. Don’t you feel it? I certainly did, and I knew I needed to be there for it. So away went Ashley on her first solo trip in India. This may sound silly, but it was important to me to honor this growth that I’ve been feeling with some space and solitude for myself. At the same time, I met a good friend there who grew up in Varanasi to accompany me after dark. Independence, not recklessness. It was the perfect balance. I walked 12kms on Saturday alone and close to the same on Sunday. Exploring at my own pace was therapeutic. Shopping without hassle was amazing. The spiritual reflection I could take for myself rooted all these feelings I’ve had for the past two months. It was special. So much more than that, but some things simply cannot be explained. The ritual bathing Saturday was something amazing to witness. The word frenzied doesn’t capture the essence of it, but it does encompass some of the pace and crowds. Yet there’s an underlying sacredness. Whether you believe it’s from the river or from the location itself, or from the thousands of worshippers bringing that energy with them, it’s a powerful force. Is it ever powerful and penetrating. Here is where those seeking release from reincarnation are cremated. Maybe it’s the constant reminder of death (the burning happens 24/7, all days of the year) that keeps the people here so laid back and in an atmosphere of enjoyment and pleasure. Sunday I returned to the same place at the Assi ghat, but this time there were only a handful of people. What a difference. I’m so glad I got to experience the two mornings, as each had their own sweet, special feel to them. This trip. This trip was everything I needed it to be. Thank you Varanasi. I take with me all you have taught and know I will have to return to learn more. We often use the phrase “it takes a village.” In all honestly, I thought I knew what this meant as a mother of five. Undoubtedly, it would not be feasible for me to where I am, doing what I’m doing, were it not for an incredible support team back home. However, I suppose my understanding has broadened a bit more through this experience from my encounters with the rural villages of Bundelkhand. Allow me to illustrate. In the villages I have visited, there are doors, but they are rarely if ever closed. Children, animals, families, friends and visitors have full access to whatever space they desire to occupy. Perhaps it’s because of the communal nature of living and the engrained culture of respect for the elders (in some cases, children) in the home, that this freedom is so widely explored. Sharing is another aspect that is so different from what I am used to. There are abundantly generous people I have met in the western world, but here the universality of the practice is what is most striking. When it comes to love languages, gift giving is probably the lowest on my list. I’ve had to conscientiously reconcile and permit myself to receive gifts from specific individuals in my life (dad being one of them), understanding that is how they show their love and support towards me. But that’s on a very personal, individual basis. To try to assume this custom myself goes against my grain and it’s a challenge for me receive gracefully (and remember to give things).
When I enter a village, I don’t see disparity or hopelessness. In fact, it’s often the exact opposite. The village community tends to one another’s unspoken needs. While collecting data for my impact assessment report, a grandmother stepped in to tend to the child of the interviewee so she could participate without distraction. Two boys ride home from school on bicycles hand in hand because they wish to share that connection with one another (and how beautiful it is in this culture that men touch one another so much! I would love to see more of this back home). Water, tea, peanuts, food of every imaginable kind is prepared if there’s the slightest hint (or not) of thirst or hunger. Twice I have been blessed with beautiful mehndi applications that surely would have been charged for in the market but offered freely, lovingly. Even at home, with the family who lives in the compound, a paper decoration was presented as project from school to decorate our humble room. One coworker in the office explained to me how, once he realizes he has some food/snack in his pocket, he would check and count it out to share. His thought isn’t, I’ll wait until some people leave and then there will be more for us. He counts it out with the intention of being able to share as much as possible. I can’t even say it is generosity. It is more. Like what I experienced over Diwali. Perhaps it’s just love. Over the remainder of my lifetime I look forward to the multitude of times I will hear over and over the words, “it takes a village.” I will forever hold with me a much more significant feeling and attitude to associate with in. Love. A village is built with love and maintained through lasting, meaningful connections. Oh, how I am going to miss these villagers. Even with my own tribe waiting anxiously at home for me, I am afraid I can’t replicate these same conditions in a world that isn’t trained up in the same way. If nothing else, I believe I am better positioned to recognize the right people and invite them into my daily life. I was getting close before I left. Optimistic Ashley has to find some kind of silver lining, right? But my heart is still breaking at the thought of leaving. Only 40 more days to go. |
AuthorAshley J.E. Hull Archives
November 2017
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