I’ve been anticipating this birthday for close to 10 years or more. Matt and I joked as young-ones long ago about where we would be at in our lives when we reached our “Jesus” year—33, the age he was during his ministry. What would our life circumstances be? Luckily, Matt reached his first and I got to tease the old-timer. Well, now it’s my turn. I had an interesting dream last night that I think serves as an omen of the year to come. We shall see if my interpretation rings true.
I woke up at 6am and went for a run. Yes, it was a far cry from my 30 kms three years ago, but in adding more yoga into my routine, the running fell away a bit. So while I am here and the physical demands are less, I’m trying to do both. But I only started last week because HEAT. Ghah! As it is, I start out in 26-27 degree weather and have to stay covered with long pants and shirt. No short shorts here! I’m sure I’ll bust them out in -2 at least once in December/January just because I want to feel the breeze on my skin again. Then again… I saved my special blue and pink kurta from Lucknow for today because you are supposed to wear new clothing for your birthday in India. I also bought a pair of jhumka earrings so I could trade out mine from Canada once in a while. We headed into Orchha to grab money for our rent and stopped in with our favorite shoe salesman. He is just the best and remembered my birthday, insisting on celebrating by buying me chocolate and a beverage. Take a look at the shoes I got—perfect match with my top! (Pictured above) The office also organized a surprise birthday party for me with cake, treats and gifts. Matthew coordinated a world-away effort to deliver me flowers. Yes, I got a bit tear-eyed over it. Thanks Hun. Apparently, it’s customary to feed the birthday celebrator. So I got fed lots more cake than I usually would eat. And wore it all over my face on numerous occasions. Customary or just fun? Not too sure! It was a nice sugar facial in any case. Venise and I are jetting out of work early (5:30pm) to catch a movie in Jhansi. Yes, it’ll all be in Hindi. Reminiscent of watching MI2 in Italy circa 2000. It’ll be fun to watch this film again with subtitles and see how close I was to understanding it. Hope to catch the kids again before school starts. It has really been a perfect day, despite being away from my family. I am thankful for those who stepped up and stepped in, knowing how much I would appreciate it at this time. Here's to my Jesus year and all that it brings with it!
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Ok, I realize that’s a misleading title. Maybe it should read “Going back to my second home.” Nonetheless, I met up again with that first village I got to visit with. Remember Ruby? Luckily she remembered me too! I came with my supervisor, Ashish and another man, to observe programming. I tell you, as I sat with the women cross-legged on the floor rocking a three-month-old baby boy, I had to contain my frustration watching the three men on chairs give Ruby tips and suggestions for improving her teaching in a very abrupt and public manner. It really didn’t phase her. This is her normal and she is so respectful. If it were me, I’d be mortified. So I tried to not project my western ideals in an eastern setting and just made a note to add private professional development/feedback to my list of recommendations. Done. File it away and move on. Once plans were made for my return trip in a few hours’ time, the men left and the lesson quickly deteriorated. I was being swarmed. With love. And I didn’t mind at all. Would I like lunch? Yes. Come to my home then. Ok. Let me draw on you with henna. Sure, sounds great. Let’s chat using the 150 common words we have between us for an hour or so. Show us pictures of your family and travels in India. Did you know I will be married in 2022? Here, look at our goats; don’t worry, we are Veg too. Goat snuggles ensue. Three hours blasted by and my ride showed up. We left with hugs, exchanges of phone numbers and the words “friend” and “love” being tossed back and forth and all around. Since the man couldn’t take me all the way back to campus, I hitched a ride on an auto with the locals. Now, in this case, you pay RPS 10 ($.20) and they pack on as many people as humanly/mechanically possible in the tuk tuk. Well, by the time I got off, the count was up to 13! If I weren’t so squished, I would have taken a picture of our clown car. Really, though, I was just bursting with so much happiness. For the following two hours, I searched out property in India. Matt—I think I found a new goal to save up for. Inspired by my friend Taryn’s feedback, I figured I’d open up and share a bit of my heart at the moment. My interpretation of India thus far: it is both incredibly open and welcoming while at the same time being a tough nut to crack. Just when you’ve reached a new high, you find yourself wondering how you got so far back. It’s dizzying at times, but again, providing rich ground for growth and reflection.
I have said more than once, “How can I love a country so much that doesn’t love me back?” And yet I reflect on my experiences and see so many beautiful moments and feelings. Remember that assertive Ashley that I discovered in Delhi? Well, when I came to Orchha I took my familial approach: be kind, be friendly, be polite, be obedient. I fell back into my own comfort zone at work, and while I can negotiate a good price for an auto now and stand my ground, after almost a month in the office, my colleagues hardly knew me. I stayed quiet and assumed something had gotten lost in translation along the way. After a good chat with Matt, I realized I needed to return to my previous insights and what I have learned about the way this country works, especially for women. It’s a fight, of sorts. I have to command respect to receive it. So, today, I articulated my disappointment in the relationships formed. Through friendly and professional conversation, I let people know I am a “politician” and president of an NGO back home. It’s incredibly awkward for me to speak of these “accomplishments,” but I tell you, relationships have changed significantly in the past 8 hours. I am so hopeful that I am building the professional environment I dreamed of having here. Assertive Ashley. It’s not habitual yet, but I think it’s a good place of growth for me right now in my life. (As a side note- I think I have officially lost my “baby-touch”… couldn’t calm down a little one yesterday. Not sure if I am sad or relieved that stage of life is done.) I hope that at the end of this experience this post will prove the catalyst I want it to be. Thanks again Taryn! You are right. We can’t learn from each other unless we share. Love you! Just a bit of text and a lot of pictures. Taj Mahal: Amazing. Agra Fort: Surprising. Gwalior: Grounding. What a whirlwind of experiences. I am pleased to report I no longer have a fear of motorcycles. In fact, I quite love them as a mode of transport at the moment. Today I accompanied a nice young man named Ashish (yes, it was the Ash2 team all over again) to seven centres either operating the initial literacy program, TARA Akshar, or the follow-up Gyan Chaupali program that is designed to help the newly-literate strengthen their skills. I observed some amazing, passionate teaching. I also saw some that could use strengthening (a super generous description in one case). I just admire these women so much. We have teenagers learning aside grandmothers. Breastfeeding babies milk-drunk on laps and young children practicing their letters alongside their caretakers. The community of it all is something I have never experienced before. In the villages I go to, no one has their doors closed. The entire space belongs to everyone it seems. I was even fed on two separate occasions and deviated from my golden rule: “don’t drink the water!” Well I did. And I lived. I am embracing each beautiful moment as they come and really living in the moment of it all. That’s my humanity/self-reflection piece (among others written elsewhere).
Professionally I had the following insight: Post-field visit, I sat down to write my observations of learning and practice taking place. Three pages later, I had captured maybe 15-20 minutes worth of notes. I was surprised what I was able to notice and make note of, including insights on reluctant learners, student evasion techniques and leadership capacities coming to play among the group. Maybe not knowing the language made it possible for me to really pay attention to WHAT was happening. But here’s the link: I loved it. And am possibly good at it. I came away with questions for reflection, additional pieces for discussion and suggestions for improved practice. Oh my goodness. I can do this. I found another avenue that’s pulling me to where I believe I naturally fall in the spectrum of education: admin. I love the idea of going into classrooms and working with teachers to improve practice and celebrate the good that is happening and share it. I don’t know when this might happen, but I feel I am building a case for a strong answer for my interview beyond “to have greater impact” when asked why I want the job. I want the job because I love the job. I love the pieces. I love the goal-setting and working towards them with a team of professionals. I love observing teaching and helping make it better. That much seems so much more clear right now. I’m taking these experiences and seeing manifested what my heart knew all along. Saturday: Since we were carpooling to the train station, we had to go SUPER early (wake up at 4:10am with 15min of sleep night before). Outside the station (and in it) was disgusting. I swear, it’s a filthy, gross place. I’ll spare the details for everyone’s benefit and my gag reflex. Next time, essential oils are coming out. Well, our train was delayed 2 hours. Awesome. We finally get moving past 8am and head on our weekend journey to Lucknow. The ride was pleasant enough in the AC chair cart. I even got to snap some pics of the Ganga river. Heart stopping. Oh, how can it be so pulling? I am so excited to visit it someday soon. We made it to our lack-luster room and ordered some food before heading out for festival festivities. It was crowded, but really fun. We walked the ally with market stalls on either side and squished our way into a park through a one-person-at-a-time gate (whew!) to get a spot to watch fireworks and the burning of a massive, flammable Ravana demon statue. In the two hours we were sitting, visiting and waiting, we attracted quite a crowd. At one point, I filmed our “groupies” who consisted of at least everyone surrounding us within 20 feet or more. We were the new stars of the evening, not poor 10-headed Ravana. I can’t count how many selfies were clicked. Oh well. The burning of the demon happened lightening fast as I wondered what on earth it must have been made out of. Additionally, fireworks exploded into the crowd. This would have never happened in Canada without a 400 meter guard roundabout. Back to our bed for the best sleep I had in weeks. Sunday: Relaxing. Movie. Shopping. Saying thanks to Gandhi before celebrating his birthday tomorrow (Monday, October 2). Monday:
Ok, so I got up early to shower, didn’t feel like it, but was supposed to be out for the day by 8am. Well, that got delayed to about 11:30, so I lounged, napped, was sleepy and ate in the meantime. This weekend has been much more “chill” than my typical tourist weekend. Venise doesn’t do fast walking, or walking generally, so I’m having to take things at a different pace these days. Finally, we ride our way over to Bara Imambara. The buildings are impressive and we have fun snapping pictures. We get a guided tour through the labyrinth and I fight off moments of anxiety-ridden panic among all the hot bodies in squishy halls and stuffy air. I remove my scarf and swear I might strip down if it gets any worse. We make our way to the “balcony” which is a narrow strip with all-together too low handrail way up in air. Neat, but terrifying. You know how your toes go numb at the edge of a cliff? Me. The whole time. The rooftop was something else though, so long as you ignore all safety-consciousness your mother taught you. Sure, I’ll sit on the edge of this rock wall 100s of feet up with no regard for life or health. I’ve learned there is this fine line between being aware of absolutely everything and then choosing to ignore that awareness or else nothing can/will happen. It’s a strange sensation for this mostly-conservative and decision-cautious gal. We took lunch at a restaurant in a nearby market (because that’s one area I will not walk the line when it comes to safety) and we catch the train back home. At least I wish it were that simple. Trains, like all things here, run on this concept of “near-time” or “suggested-time.” What the heck! Meeting at 8:30? Doesn’t happen until 11. Field visit day? Cancelled until further notice. Train arrival at 10:30pm? Just kidding. You really won’t be in bed until 1am. Plus, the power will be out. So you’ll have to track someone down to start a generator. Oh, living in India is an adjustment, absolutely, for me. I know I’m a control freak. I was working on this before leaving home. Being here, experiencing it though, is just providing all the practice the universe thinks I need to slow down, let go, and be in the moment. I’m working on it. Today started off with meeting the kind man named Raghvendra who would be escorting me into the field. Mode of transport: motorcycle. Sidesaddle (to avoid seeming indecent). No helmet. These are all things terrifying to me, though the terror didn’t last long. I couldn’t help, however, but imagine what it would be like to have to jump, tuck and roll during some freak accident. Luckily my less-than-ninja-like abilities didn’t have to be tested out this time. I really had no clue where we were heading, which made each new discovery along the way that much more thrilling.
We first had to head into Orchha where I finally got to see the amazing temples backing the city. Along the way we pass ancient gates and buildings. Something resembling gratitude, but more elusive, starts to sink in deep inside of me. On the winding side roads I smell roasting peanuts and amazingly aromatic flora. Smiles. There’s a beautifully ridged mountain I admire, and as perfect as could be, a mountain goat is silhouetted against the blue sky at the top. A path of red soil is uncovered from repeated use among the brushy landscape. Pinch me! On to dirt roads where children roam in a much more clothing-optional environment. Finally, we reach the village of Pipra. My first visit! There is so much to say and to describe. The warmth and reception was amazing, especially after showing pictures of my family and hometown. Since there was the death of a village grandmother only two days prior, they were in a state of mourning and weren’t officially running class that day. Nevertheless, the women gathered to participate and I sat cross-legged with them on the floor as they read aloud and played games together. So much on a pedagogical level was happening. I have that recorded elsewhere. What I wish to share here is the sense of community. Struggling learners received help, support and encouragement from all the participants. After one women concluded her page of reading, at least two or three of her fellow village women tried the best they could to emphasize her progress from complete illiteracy to her abilities today. It was collective pride mixed with a sense of celebration in accomplishment. They were there for each other. I have never seen a learning environment where the participants were so connected. When we exited the building and walked through the street, I led what seemed like the entire village in parade-like style. Ruby, the 17 year old local leader of the program, invited me into her home. I have no idea how we fit so many bodies into so little space. Her brother, the eldest and only boy of four siblings, was crouched on the floor preparing the dough for dinner that night. Mama and I shared smiles and mutual understanding of raising a family of children with almost the exact same composition. Dad stood with confidence, kindness and obvious joy in his family. This is a special place. I had similar feelings when I first visited Powell River. There’s a familiarity and goodness. Maybe it’s less about the geography and more about the people. I left feeling so full and hope I can return again soon. On the road to Khajuraho: monkeys, cows and fields. Some noteworthy images to describe include:
All that tension melts away after stepping in the compound enclosing the Khajuraho group of monuments. As one of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites, they keep the grounds immaculate. Visitors include the splattering of foreign tourists, but mostly travelling nationals and locals are the ones enjoying these amazing temples. Locals are easily identified by the way they ask, “One Selfie Ma’am?” I sure hope all these fine folk use my likeness in appropriate ways, lol! The temple carvings are beyond description. I could honestly camp out there all day long and watch the shapes and colours of the temples shift as the sun crosses the sky. It’s incredible. Adding to the reverence and the respect of the temples themselves, visitors remove their shoes before entering. Two female workers helped me offer a flower to the deity and offer prayer. It was special to see the women so devout in their faith and excited to share it with me, the clueless visitor (I use visitor instead of tourist intentionally, as I really do reverence this special place on earth.) Let’s be honest though, no one wants to read more. Just take a look at the pictures and enjoy! This will one of my most memorable days while in India, I am certain. I am so fortunate to be placed in my internship for this time period. Here, I had a chance to participate in DA’s annual conference, Taragram Yarta, and meet with professionals in this space from all over India. The networking was amazing. In one of our roundtable discussions themed “investing in people,” we had an amazing discussion on changing the language from one that elicits a response associated with expectation of return or monetary gain to one of supporting wellbeing. I walked away with a number of such “a-ha” moments. Over lunch I met with a young professional named Asha (in white above) who shared with me what was happening currently for women in India and the reaction in respects to clothing. I don’t think I can accurately summarize the half hour discussion, but what’s fascinating is the trend to “trousers” and jeans is reminiscent of the Western cultural backlash/ feminist movement women experienced in the 60s and 70s. Describing all the style nuances, Asha emphasized how it symbolizes choice. Her generation is the first to go out in the evening, to choose their clothes, their hobbies, their sexual experiences. These are all things, no matter where I fall on the spectrum of personal choice and value, I take for granted. At the same time, I recognize my own limitations as a woman in this country and don’t venture out at night, even to a market for food. Perhaps these pant-wearing feminists will make it possible for my daughter to be safe when she wants to grab a snack after dark on her own adventures to this beautiful country in the future. In confidence, as a woman, Asha told me that she really does prefer traditional clothing. She noted, was that once you cross that line and prove your point, women re-find/center themselves and want to wear saris and the like once again. However, as women they are still fighting so hard for choice, which Western clothing represents to them, and many feel they cannot admit their feelings openly. Personally, she still feels the need to push back and wear the uncomfortable pants for her fellow sisters and the next generation. No matter what they choose to wear, I am so honored to meet these women who are self-sacrificing in so many ways to create space for equality and get back to the true roots of their culture before the perversion of patriarchy occurred. The desire to exercise choice and the freedom to do so is as powerful as the women who are making it possible here. Today’s designs: head in to Jhansi, buy some easily digestible foods and search out some clothing to replace the tops that I left at home or just don’t seem appropriate once here. We crammed onto a shared auto (I got to snuggle up next to the driver) and went to Vishal’s Mega Mart. Like most places in India, you have to either check your bag or there’s a method of scanning and a metal detector. Venise walks right on through with her purse, but I stand at the door, fumbling with my lock and laugh with the guard. He sympathetically waves me in the store and says its ok. There are some perks to being a helpless foreigner at times! Shopping was surprisingly therapeutic, probably because it’s familiar. We get a lot of attention, but everyone goes about their business just like we are: searching for a deal and stocking up on the basics. At the checkout (standing still) is when people finally get courage to start talking to me. I realize how happy I am to tell them I’m Canadian (no offence to Caucasians of other nationalities) and they respond with the same enthusiasm. I share my picture I brought with me of my world: my family and a map of where I am from. One thing I know about the Indian culture is their communal nature and natural intrigue. I love being in a place where being free and open about my life and my home is appreciated. I had to venture to a market stand on the roadside for any fresh fruit, and before I knew it we had ten, maybe twenty boys and men all circling us, asking what we wanted. In Delhi, this would have been and was incredibly intimidating, but here, it came from a place of honest desire to be helpful. Or maybe curiosity? But it wasn’t at all threatening. I walked away with three bananas, four apples and a pomegranate for $1.23 CDN. I was likely totally ripped off, but how can I bargain down an old man with half his teeth and kind eyes for a few cents in my pocket? Now I’ll be honest, seeing these stands from inside an auto this past week, I was pretty fearful of them. It seems silly to me now that I faced it and experienced it. We made it home 10 minutes before a beautiful downpour, and now I sit, writing this blog entry in one of the most peaceful beautiful places I’ve had the privilege to be in. I feel so much gratitude that my fears didn’t stop me from this moment. (Interested in how much things cost? I purchased gifts for the kids, three tops, one scarf, all the comfort food I need, four large bottles of mango juice, toiletries, two bowls with lids and cookies for the office for the equivalent of $78 CDN.) Where I get to sit and type. |
AuthorAshley J.E. Hull Archives
November 2017
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