As I write this, I am happily esconced in our apartment, listening to the family next door singing Eid songs to mark the end of Ramzan and the rain pattering down outside. It's definitely a cozy feeling and it's moments like this when I have to pinch myself. For every challenge that India presents and for every time I want to throw my hands up in the air and say enough, it throws two beautiful things right back in my face. Today I took my first ride on the back of a scooter through the hectic city traffic and it definitely helped put things in perspective. Day to day life here is so much more interactive and teeming with activity than back home that I figured it is about time I share that with you by describing some of the sights I have seen here in the last month and a half, be it from an auto, the back of a scooter, or just standing still and letting life happen around you.
Morning here is a strange sight to see. Most stores are boarded up and won't open until ten in the morning, yet the sidewalk is full of movable street food carts, and a mix of school children in uniforms holding hands as they maneuver through the breakfast diners, business professionals in suits on their way to work, and beggars roaming from autorickshaw to autorickshaw, hoping for a few rupees from groggy morning commuters. If it has rained, the smell is damp. Damp humanity, dripping plants, soaked garbage. Otherwise, the exhaust can be overwhelming as you sit idling at an impossibly complicated intersection, wedged in between other scooters, motorcycles, buses, and autorickshaws, and waiting for the traffic officer to signal your lane. Traffic lights here do little good in rush hour.
As you leave this more "western" area of town, you head down narrower streets, potholed and windy. More women here wear burkas and more men are dressed in traditional white kurtas. You can catch snatches of music from the shops, wildly energetic Bollywood numbers or more meloncholic Urdu songs. Weaving in and out of traffic, you see a woman brushing her teeth outside of her small home, children yell and wave at you. In front of you a wallet falls out of an auto, and immediately, three people on motorcycles nearby stop and snatch it... and speed ahead to return it to the owner.
Down the next street is a shop where men sit threading brightly colored flowers onto string, while across the road is a meat shop, proudly displaying the skinned hump and hoofed foot of a camel. A man missing his legs sits on a cart pulled by an oxen while a BMW passes you on the right. Then you hear drums, from far away at first, then closer. While the music sounds joyful and rythmic, you realize it's a funeral procession, with the deceased being carried down the road by a group of men, the body covered in flowers.
Next you turn a corner and color explodes in your face. Shop after shop on both sides of you brim with Ganesh idols, some ten feet tall, others small enough to fit in your pocket, all in various stages of being painted. You must stop to let saree-clad women expertly balancing buckets of wash on their heads pass before continuing on. And the smell of spicy food, paint, cigarettes and exhaust is overwhelming. At the end of this road dedicated to the Hindu god, lies a massive green and white mosque, echoing the call to prayer over loudspeakers strategically positioned around the massive dome. And before you know it, you are on your way home, leaving the multi-colored shrines behind you, exchanging carts filled to the brim with ripe pomegranates and bananas for a McDonalds and Subway newly constructed, turning your back on impossibly old monuments for a mega-mall complete with a 3-D movie theater and a Hard Rock Cafe.
But no matter where you go, you are reminded that this is India. Life, for all its similarities, is incredibly different. And it is impossible to describe the diversity and the intensity of each day. Instead, you do what you can to occupy your own niche, observing with a foreigners eyes while trying to understand what is culture, what is globalization and where you fit in. In the end, sometimes all you need to do is stike up a conversation at the corner dhosa shop, and then things don't seem quite so complicated anymore.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Iftar Photos
Here's just a few quick Iftar photos... The initial breaking of the fast spread, the women of the family...
Monday, August 22, 2011
An Iftar to Remember
Try as I might to keep these posts spaced out as much as possible and on a regular schedule, India seems to continue to conspire against me. Much like India itself, life just doesn't slow down. And neither does the rain during monsoon season. Coming from this Oregonian, when I say it poured here this weekend, I mean it POURED! Roads became rivers, traffic in the city reached a standstill, and my umbrella collapsed, leaving me as wet as if I had jumped into a pool. Which is why when Sunday evening rolled around, I was happy to go somewhere dry for a change.
So what did I do on Sunday evening? Well one of my roomates and I were invited to a local home to share in an Iftar meal, otherwise known as the breaking of the daily fast, for the month of Ramzan (Ramadan). Muslim families do this every day here, not eating or drinking anything from 4 in the morning until approimately 6:50 in the evening for the whole month. As it was explained to us, during the holy month, fasting is seen as way to honor Allah and also help atone for your bad behavior in the past. So strictly speaking, a good Muslim won't sing or dance during Ramzan either, a fact all the girls at my school bemoan. But once it is time to break the fast each night, the streets come alive. The city is littered with night markets, all of which stay open until the small hours of the morning and glitter with lights and banners advertising their food for hungry Muslims around the neighborhood.
Well I have never been one to hesitate to partake in any cultural event involving food and the fact that maybe I could learn something about Islam as well was an added bonus. At 5PM, my roommate and I took off to our friend's house in the old city, covering our heads as best as we could with scarves that kept falling off and not knowing what to expect. The family consisted of an older son and then four younger sisters but the extended family, including uncles, wives, children and mother-in-laws were present too. While most of the family didn't have amazing English, we could communicate well enough and I have to say I felt incredibly lucky to be invited into someone's home to partake in the wholly family event. Plus, as I had been missing my own family, it was great to just spend some time with SOMEONE'S family and they made us feel completely welcome in their home.
At 6:45, we were led into a room decorated with ornate carpets. On top of the carpet was a spread of dates, every kind of fruit imaginable, the infamous Haleem and some sweet Indian treats, all of which I had to exercise real self restraint not to devour. I mean, while I'm most definitely not fasting this month, I thought I would give it a bit of a try and not eat anything for say, about six hours, before going to the house. And that was nearly impossible for me. I think I would make a horrible Muslim. But that aside, we all sat down on the floor and waited to hear the booming bell from the nearby mosque, signifying the setting of the sun and the beginning of Iftar. And then we ate. First, you always start with a date, although the actual reason why was lost in translation I think. Suffice it to say, the Prophet said so, so it is. Then we gorged ourselves on fruit including watermelon, papaya, grapes, apples, bananas, pomegranates and a few I've never seen before in my life.
But quickly the food was cleared away and it was time for prayers, with the men going downstairs to pray and the women staying upstairs. During Ramzan, prayers are said at about 4:45AM before starting your fast, 6AM after which you usually go back to sleep for a bit, noon, 3:30, 6:40 and 7:50. Although don't quote me on that because judging by the calls to prayer I hear outside our own window, the timing is a little off... So post fast-breaking prayers were said, after which the carpet was filled with the main meal of the day, including fried chicken (I kid you not, it tasted just like KFC!), biryani, chicken curry, and my new favorite, Kheer, which is milk, cream, rice and dried fruit mixture. It was all cooked by the eldest sister-in-law, who will spend 3-6 hours every day cooking for Iftar, and it was the best meal I've eaten here so far. Needless to say, I was waddling out of there.
After dinner and some chai, one of the sisters brought out her wedding album which was so interesting to see. Apparently she had only been 18 when she was married which was probably lucky because the amount of jewelry she had on would probably have broken an older woman's back! But because her husband was not there to give permission, we couldn't take our picture with her. My roommate and I exchanged glances when she said this but then just shrugged it off. You learn to accept things as they are here. The younger sister who is now 20 starting discussing her upcoming nuptials, providing that her parents find her a suitable groom. She quietly confided to me she'd like to stay in Hyderabad near her family, while her father expressed a hope for a Saudi Arabian son-in-law. They were a bit shocked by our own ages and by the fact that we were here by ourselves, without a family or husbands, but being American means people expect you to be a certain amount of crazy anyway so they ended up dropping the topic and most likely deciding that we were just some weird heathen girls.
We left the house soon after, with the young boys (ages 2-6)in our wake, relieved that they didn't have shake our scary white hands or take pictures with us anymore. My roommate and I were estatic. It was one of those experiences that may seem simple and routine to most people here but made us step out of comfort zones (way waaay out!) and try something new. Plus we met some really nice people as well and got fed within an inch of our lives in the process. Not a bad Sunday evening at all and I remained dry for a few hours at once, no mean feat in this monsoon weather and humidity.
Okay, that's all for now folks. I will hopefully be able to steal the Iftar pictures from my roommate soon and put them up before you get bored of my all-text entry. And I'm sure I will be adding a new blog post before you, or even I, for that matter, are prepared for it. I'm already woefully slacking on other kinds of posts about daily life here in India but like I said, you can't really control what happens here. You just have to enjoy the ride. Cheers!
So what did I do on Sunday evening? Well one of my roomates and I were invited to a local home to share in an Iftar meal, otherwise known as the breaking of the daily fast, for the month of Ramzan (Ramadan). Muslim families do this every day here, not eating or drinking anything from 4 in the morning until approimately 6:50 in the evening for the whole month. As it was explained to us, during the holy month, fasting is seen as way to honor Allah and also help atone for your bad behavior in the past. So strictly speaking, a good Muslim won't sing or dance during Ramzan either, a fact all the girls at my school bemoan. But once it is time to break the fast each night, the streets come alive. The city is littered with night markets, all of which stay open until the small hours of the morning and glitter with lights and banners advertising their food for hungry Muslims around the neighborhood.
Well I have never been one to hesitate to partake in any cultural event involving food and the fact that maybe I could learn something about Islam as well was an added bonus. At 5PM, my roommate and I took off to our friend's house in the old city, covering our heads as best as we could with scarves that kept falling off and not knowing what to expect. The family consisted of an older son and then four younger sisters but the extended family, including uncles, wives, children and mother-in-laws were present too. While most of the family didn't have amazing English, we could communicate well enough and I have to say I felt incredibly lucky to be invited into someone's home to partake in the wholly family event. Plus, as I had been missing my own family, it was great to just spend some time with SOMEONE'S family and they made us feel completely welcome in their home.
At 6:45, we were led into a room decorated with ornate carpets. On top of the carpet was a spread of dates, every kind of fruit imaginable, the infamous Haleem and some sweet Indian treats, all of which I had to exercise real self restraint not to devour. I mean, while I'm most definitely not fasting this month, I thought I would give it a bit of a try and not eat anything for say, about six hours, before going to the house. And that was nearly impossible for me. I think I would make a horrible Muslim. But that aside, we all sat down on the floor and waited to hear the booming bell from the nearby mosque, signifying the setting of the sun and the beginning of Iftar. And then we ate. First, you always start with a date, although the actual reason why was lost in translation I think. Suffice it to say, the Prophet said so, so it is. Then we gorged ourselves on fruit including watermelon, papaya, grapes, apples, bananas, pomegranates and a few I've never seen before in my life.
But quickly the food was cleared away and it was time for prayers, with the men going downstairs to pray and the women staying upstairs. During Ramzan, prayers are said at about 4:45AM before starting your fast, 6AM after which you usually go back to sleep for a bit, noon, 3:30, 6:40 and 7:50. Although don't quote me on that because judging by the calls to prayer I hear outside our own window, the timing is a little off... So post fast-breaking prayers were said, after which the carpet was filled with the main meal of the day, including fried chicken (I kid you not, it tasted just like KFC!), biryani, chicken curry, and my new favorite, Kheer, which is milk, cream, rice and dried fruit mixture. It was all cooked by the eldest sister-in-law, who will spend 3-6 hours every day cooking for Iftar, and it was the best meal I've eaten here so far. Needless to say, I was waddling out of there.
After dinner and some chai, one of the sisters brought out her wedding album which was so interesting to see. Apparently she had only been 18 when she was married which was probably lucky because the amount of jewelry she had on would probably have broken an older woman's back! But because her husband was not there to give permission, we couldn't take our picture with her. My roommate and I exchanged glances when she said this but then just shrugged it off. You learn to accept things as they are here. The younger sister who is now 20 starting discussing her upcoming nuptials, providing that her parents find her a suitable groom. She quietly confided to me she'd like to stay in Hyderabad near her family, while her father expressed a hope for a Saudi Arabian son-in-law. They were a bit shocked by our own ages and by the fact that we were here by ourselves, without a family or husbands, but being American means people expect you to be a certain amount of crazy anyway so they ended up dropping the topic and most likely deciding that we were just some weird heathen girls.
We left the house soon after, with the young boys (ages 2-6)in our wake, relieved that they didn't have shake our scary white hands or take pictures with us anymore. My roommate and I were estatic. It was one of those experiences that may seem simple and routine to most people here but made us step out of comfort zones (way waaay out!) and try something new. Plus we met some really nice people as well and got fed within an inch of our lives in the process. Not a bad Sunday evening at all and I remained dry for a few hours at once, no mean feat in this monsoon weather and humidity.
Okay, that's all for now folks. I will hopefully be able to steal the Iftar pictures from my roommate soon and put them up before you get bored of my all-text entry. And I'm sure I will be adding a new blog post before you, or even I, for that matter, are prepared for it. I'm already woefully slacking on other kinds of posts about daily life here in India but like I said, you can't really control what happens here. You just have to enjoy the ride. Cheers!
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
15 Minutes of Fame
In the span of two days, I have been featured in at least two newspapers and have had more pictures snapped of me than I can count. In fact, people were staring at me and whispering everywhere I went. I guess I'm a big deal. Can you really be that surprised? Maybe I should preface this story with a warning that I did absolutely nothing to deserve this fame. Well, okay in the case of my local hometown newspaper, I did go to India. But for all the rest? I was just in the right place at the right time.
Friday afternoon, I packed up and headed out with some of the other fellows to Warangal, a small town (well small by Indian standards, but I doubt 500,000 people is really all that tiny in reality) about a 3 hour train ride northeast of Hyderabad. In all honesty, we chose the place because it was literally the closest town that at least had some points of interest. Turns out, at least according to the locals, everything cool in India is outside of Andhra Pradesh. But we went anyway, more for the sake of escaping the hectic city than for any real sightseeing.
As disappointing as it may sound to you, there was really no chaos at the train station. I'm sure in the back of the carriages there was some commotion since the seats are not assigned, but we were safely esconced in our A/C compartment, listening to our Ipods and already happy to not be breathing the polluted city air. Once we arrived, we hopped in a rickshaw to check out the hotel we had booked. Turns out it was the nicest hotel in Warangal and the prices proved it. But it was already ten o'clock and we were exhausted. Me and one of the other girls made a valiant attempt to visit another "adequate" hostel nearby but what we found instead was a dank "residency" on the 3rd floor of a mall. Needless to say, the lack of a shower and the fact that I am pretty sure no woman has stepped into the hostel for eons did not recommend it to us. So back to Hotel Landmark and its decent restaurant it was.
The morning consisted of a breakfast of dhosa and a speedy itinerary-planning over coffee. We decided to try and visit a nature reserve about 45 kilometers out of the city. While the chances of seeing any wildlife were low, the prospect of green trees and mountains was too much to pass up. And it turns out, it's pretty cheap to hire a driver and much more convenient than taking a bus. So we piled into the air conditioned SUV and off we went, along narrow country roads and passing through rice paddies and small villages. It wasn't unusual for us to find ourselves playing chicken on the road with a cow and a truck laden with cotton or rice, both heading towards us and taking up the entire roadway. But this was a glimpse of the real rural India, a place I had yet to see. The greenery of the palm trees and farmland, alongside of the fresh air, was amazing and I felt like the actual drive was a part of the destination itself.
When we arrived to the reserve, there wasn't much to see other than some very large monkeys who attempted to ambush our car, and of course, a herd of water buffalo. What I noticed most though was the silence. Something I haven't heard for a month. It was wonderful.
Too soon, we jumped back into the car to return via the cow, wagon, and people-packed roads (I get the feeling that there really are few uninhabited places in India). Once back in town we went to visit the 1000 year old Shiva Temple, which also is famous for its 1000 pillars made of granite. I couldn't even attempt to contemplate the age of the place and while I was trying, I began to realize that I was getting my picture taken. By literally everyone in the place. It was ironic to me that people were taking pictures of me taking pictures of the Temple and my friends were encountering the same thing. Before long, we were approached by a man who turned out to be a reporter for Warangal's local paper. He wanted to interview us about what we were doing there and take our photo. We decided there was little harm to it although I can't imagine that it was very riveting reading. And thus started my 15 minutes of Warangal fame.
The weekend continued in much the same vein, as I began to realize that this town most likely NEVER saw western tourists. If I feel conspicuous at times in Hyderabad, I felt like I was a different species in Warangal. But no matter. Sometimes you just have to own your skin, right? We moved to a cheaper hotel that night and spent the evening deciding to take Sunday easy. So in the sweltering heat of the mid-morning, we headed out to the recommended Warangal Fort.
I was completely blown away by it. I felt like I was in the Indian version of the Roman Forum, with four towering, intricately carved gateways marking the entrance to the fort itself. Within the fort lay ruins of what had once been a massive temple, carved completely out of black granite. Every minute detail was thought of, from the way the granite would reflect the sun to create a natural lighting system, to the precise position of the chisled dancers in the stone, and even to the angle of the lotus petals carved into the ceiling. The fort as well was a remnant of the ancient Kokatia Dynasty and was mostly destroyed by invaders in the twelfth century. However, you could still see how grand the entire fortification must have been. Oh yeah, and families were still clamoring to have their pictures taken with us. Celebrity is such a bother.
Returning to Hyderabad meant I had to leave behind some fresh(er) air and more delicious food but it was nice to come back to the "big city." At the very least because I'm merely just an anomaly here, not an alien. All in all, a great weekend though and a great taste of more Indian adventures to come, I'm sure.
Friday afternoon, I packed up and headed out with some of the other fellows to Warangal, a small town (well small by Indian standards, but I doubt 500,000 people is really all that tiny in reality) about a 3 hour train ride northeast of Hyderabad. In all honesty, we chose the place because it was literally the closest town that at least had some points of interest. Turns out, at least according to the locals, everything cool in India is outside of Andhra Pradesh. But we went anyway, more for the sake of escaping the hectic city than for any real sightseeing.
As disappointing as it may sound to you, there was really no chaos at the train station. I'm sure in the back of the carriages there was some commotion since the seats are not assigned, but we were safely esconced in our A/C compartment, listening to our Ipods and already happy to not be breathing the polluted city air. Once we arrived, we hopped in a rickshaw to check out the hotel we had booked. Turns out it was the nicest hotel in Warangal and the prices proved it. But it was already ten o'clock and we were exhausted. Me and one of the other girls made a valiant attempt to visit another "adequate" hostel nearby but what we found instead was a dank "residency" on the 3rd floor of a mall. Needless to say, the lack of a shower and the fact that I am pretty sure no woman has stepped into the hostel for eons did not recommend it to us. So back to Hotel Landmark and its decent restaurant it was.
The morning consisted of a breakfast of dhosa and a speedy itinerary-planning over coffee. We decided to try and visit a nature reserve about 45 kilometers out of the city. While the chances of seeing any wildlife were low, the prospect of green trees and mountains was too much to pass up. And it turns out, it's pretty cheap to hire a driver and much more convenient than taking a bus. So we piled into the air conditioned SUV and off we went, along narrow country roads and passing through rice paddies and small villages. It wasn't unusual for us to find ourselves playing chicken on the road with a cow and a truck laden with cotton or rice, both heading towards us and taking up the entire roadway. But this was a glimpse of the real rural India, a place I had yet to see. The greenery of the palm trees and farmland, alongside of the fresh air, was amazing and I felt like the actual drive was a part of the destination itself.
When we arrived to the reserve, there wasn't much to see other than some very large monkeys who attempted to ambush our car, and of course, a herd of water buffalo. What I noticed most though was the silence. Something I haven't heard for a month. It was wonderful.
Too soon, we jumped back into the car to return via the cow, wagon, and people-packed roads (I get the feeling that there really are few uninhabited places in India). Once back in town we went to visit the 1000 year old Shiva Temple, which also is famous for its 1000 pillars made of granite. I couldn't even attempt to contemplate the age of the place and while I was trying, I began to realize that I was getting my picture taken. By literally everyone in the place. It was ironic to me that people were taking pictures of me taking pictures of the Temple and my friends were encountering the same thing. Before long, we were approached by a man who turned out to be a reporter for Warangal's local paper. He wanted to interview us about what we were doing there and take our photo. We decided there was little harm to it although I can't imagine that it was very riveting reading. And thus started my 15 minutes of Warangal fame.
The weekend continued in much the same vein, as I began to realize that this town most likely NEVER saw western tourists. If I feel conspicuous at times in Hyderabad, I felt like I was a different species in Warangal. But no matter. Sometimes you just have to own your skin, right? We moved to a cheaper hotel that night and spent the evening deciding to take Sunday easy. So in the sweltering heat of the mid-morning, we headed out to the recommended Warangal Fort.
I was completely blown away by it. I felt like I was in the Indian version of the Roman Forum, with four towering, intricately carved gateways marking the entrance to the fort itself. Within the fort lay ruins of what had once been a massive temple, carved completely out of black granite. Every minute detail was thought of, from the way the granite would reflect the sun to create a natural lighting system, to the precise position of the chisled dancers in the stone, and even to the angle of the lotus petals carved into the ceiling. The fort as well was a remnant of the ancient Kokatia Dynasty and was mostly destroyed by invaders in the twelfth century. However, you could still see how grand the entire fortification must have been. Oh yeah, and families were still clamoring to have their pictures taken with us. Celebrity is such a bother.
Returning to Hyderabad meant I had to leave behind some fresh(er) air and more delicious food but it was nice to come back to the "big city." At the very least because I'm merely just an anomaly here, not an alien. All in all, a great weekend though and a great taste of more Indian adventures to come, I'm sure.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
It's a Bandh!
This post comes a day early (or perhaps 2 days early for most of you) due to the very fact that I actually have a few spare moments today and tomorrow I may not be so lucky. You see, today there is a bandh on (pronounced "Bund"). These can most usefully be described at strikes which can shut down public transportation in the city and close businesses. But that's just a teaser... for more on this later, read on!
So how has my second week at my school gone? Quite well actually, and I am beginning to see the beauty in those moments when I don't have a lot to be doing. I spent most of my day Monday working in the computer lab, creating surveys for teachers and parents, working on vocabularly lists for the kids, and starting to type up my case study. And even though sitting in school on my computer might not be the most proactive use of my time it would seem, in reality, it's a great way to interact with the kids and teachers since most of them are in and out of the computer lab at various moments in the day. In fact, I was able to take many little breaks to play hangman or show the kids pictures of Oregon, which made the day fly by.
I am also actively working with the 8th graders at my school to participate in a really interesting nationwide competition known as Design for Change. I am the facilitator but it is up for the kids to brainstorm a local community problem that they would like to change, and then they have a week to implement this change, all before a big celebration of these projects on Gandhi's birthday, October 2nd. Needless to say, these conversations about change have illicited some interesting responses. One student wanted to stop people from drinking any alcohol (good luck with that one, kid) and another Hindu student wanted to shut down the meat shop by his house (I at least agreed that the smell was awful but I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wish there were many more such meat shops in my neighborhood)! But in the end, they decided they want to feed and clothe the homeless. Noble? Yes. Easy? Hell no! So with a little direction from me, they now have to figure out how they are going to do this. You've got to admire their tenacity given that I was trying to talk them into creating a crosswalk in front of their school to make it safer for younger students to actually make it to the school. But no, they have their sights set on something much higher. I expect to spend a lot of this afternoon wracking my brain for how they can do this, hopefully networking with organizations in the area, but if you have any ideas too, feel free to toss them my way!
Okay, to back to the information on this bandh thing which you are all breathlessly awaiting. Here's a brief background for you with a shout out going to Wikipedia for what I hope is accurate information: Andhra Pradesh was ruled by a Telugu (also the local language here) dynasty during the middle ages and was later controlled by a Muslim Sultanate. When the sultanate began to crumble, a separate state of Hyderabad was established to in order to allow the Muslim Nizam to maintain control. Fast forward a few thousand years to Indian independence where the Muslim Nizam did not want to merge Hyderabad with the rest of India and a peasant Telegana revolt against feudal landlords continued to complicate matters. The region was then divided into Telugu speaking districts and non-Telugu speaking districts which were all eventually merged to form the modern state of Andhra Pradesh.
As seems to happen the world over when you arbitrarily assign borders to peoples and cultures, one side tends to be unhappy with the other. Ever since Indian independence then, the Telangana Party has been attempting to establish their own state and Hyderabad is at this center of this. And whenever there is an important political decision to be made or another event to further spark the simmering tension between the government and the Telangana supporters, there is usually a bandh, or a strike in the city. These aren't generally violent although in some areas around the university district (and far away from me), they can get heated. Public transportation is also very unreliable so to be on the safe side, most of us are staying home today. It will be interesting to see how this develops and I'm appreciative of the fact that this has now given me a reason to find out more about local politics. And as much as I hate to admit it, I can't help but enjoy the "snow day" today as it gives me a chance to catch up on life!
That's all for now - I promise more posts about Indian culture, clothes, and life will be on the horizon. Pher milenge!
So how has my second week at my school gone? Quite well actually, and I am beginning to see the beauty in those moments when I don't have a lot to be doing. I spent most of my day Monday working in the computer lab, creating surveys for teachers and parents, working on vocabularly lists for the kids, and starting to type up my case study. And even though sitting in school on my computer might not be the most proactive use of my time it would seem, in reality, it's a great way to interact with the kids and teachers since most of them are in and out of the computer lab at various moments in the day. In fact, I was able to take many little breaks to play hangman or show the kids pictures of Oregon, which made the day fly by.
I am also actively working with the 8th graders at my school to participate in a really interesting nationwide competition known as Design for Change. I am the facilitator but it is up for the kids to brainstorm a local community problem that they would like to change, and then they have a week to implement this change, all before a big celebration of these projects on Gandhi's birthday, October 2nd. Needless to say, these conversations about change have illicited some interesting responses. One student wanted to stop people from drinking any alcohol (good luck with that one, kid) and another Hindu student wanted to shut down the meat shop by his house (I at least agreed that the smell was awful but I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wish there were many more such meat shops in my neighborhood)! But in the end, they decided they want to feed and clothe the homeless. Noble? Yes. Easy? Hell no! So with a little direction from me, they now have to figure out how they are going to do this. You've got to admire their tenacity given that I was trying to talk them into creating a crosswalk in front of their school to make it safer for younger students to actually make it to the school. But no, they have their sights set on something much higher. I expect to spend a lot of this afternoon wracking my brain for how they can do this, hopefully networking with organizations in the area, but if you have any ideas too, feel free to toss them my way!
Okay, to back to the information on this bandh thing which you are all breathlessly awaiting. Here's a brief background for you with a shout out going to Wikipedia for what I hope is accurate information: Andhra Pradesh was ruled by a Telugu (also the local language here) dynasty during the middle ages and was later controlled by a Muslim Sultanate. When the sultanate began to crumble, a separate state of Hyderabad was established to in order to allow the Muslim Nizam to maintain control. Fast forward a few thousand years to Indian independence where the Muslim Nizam did not want to merge Hyderabad with the rest of India and a peasant Telegana revolt against feudal landlords continued to complicate matters. The region was then divided into Telugu speaking districts and non-Telugu speaking districts which were all eventually merged to form the modern state of Andhra Pradesh.
As seems to happen the world over when you arbitrarily assign borders to peoples and cultures, one side tends to be unhappy with the other. Ever since Indian independence then, the Telangana Party has been attempting to establish their own state and Hyderabad is at this center of this. And whenever there is an important political decision to be made or another event to further spark the simmering tension between the government and the Telangana supporters, there is usually a bandh, or a strike in the city. These aren't generally violent although in some areas around the university district (and far away from me), they can get heated. Public transportation is also very unreliable so to be on the safe side, most of us are staying home today. It will be interesting to see how this develops and I'm appreciative of the fact that this has now given me a reason to find out more about local politics. And as much as I hate to admit it, I can't help but enjoy the "snow day" today as it gives me a chance to catch up on life!
That's all for now - I promise more posts about Indian culture, clothes, and life will be on the horizon. Pher milenge!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
New School Jitters
This has been my first week working as a consultant in my school and it has been quite an experience. After our two weeks of orientation, I felt ready to go and jump in. Unfortunately, as always seems to happen when you have high expectations, you tend to be disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I really love my school, and the kids, teachers and owner are great. However, I am still at a loss for what I should be doing. You see, this first month is all about observing and we are then responsible for writing case studies on our schools that we can use for the rest of our time here which also allows GMC to get the inside scoop, so to speak. But there is only so much observing one can do. Today I finally finished seeing every teacher in every class, and now, I’m unsure what I should be doing. You see, my owner has so much trust in my ability that she just gives me free rein to do whatever and wander around the school. It’s almost too much independence! But I will figure it out and I already have some ideas for next week.
But anyways, now that my angsty self has divulged its feelings, I’ll get down more to the nitty gritty. The atmosphere at the school is great, with teachers treating each other like family and friends, and a general feeling of looking out for the well-being of all the students. That being said, it is a lot different than what I am used to. For instance, you can see a teacher smiling and laughing with a student at one moment and within seconds, that same teacher can turn around and smack another kid for not sitting up straight. As much as I hate to admit it though, the kids respond and all seem to pay more attention and be more active learners than you will see in an American classroom.
The classrooms themselves are definitely different. They all have chalkboards and a few rows of tables with attached chairs that the kids cram into. Many of these “classrooms” have a wall separating them from others that doesn’t quite go all the way up to the ceiling, so it can be hard to hear over neighboring classes. The teachers like to have kids stand up and read things aloud and then explain them afterwards, which means that often there isn’t enough time to explain everything since classes are at half-day during the month of Ramadan. Plus the kids are big on memorizing here so comprehension may be an issue. In India, passing or failing the test at the end of 10th grade determines the rest or your life. So to say that teachers have to teach to the test is an understatement. In the upper grades boys are way less participatory than girls, which honestly, kind of makes me happy – I like seeing the confidence that the girls have and they tend to outnumber the boys in class anyway. The content and subject matter though seem really well-thought out, and overall, I’m impressed with the education the students are receiving.
Of course, my favorite thing has to be the kids. I sat in on an Upper Kindergarten Class today and they were learning the alphabet with phonics techniques. Seeing 50 little five and six year olds shaking their hands and bodies to imitate jello for the letter “j” is absolutely priceless to say the least. What I definitely regret right now though is my inability to remember names. The girls keep testing me and I keep forgetting them, and then I feel really bad about it. But there’s just so many students with names I’ve never heard before that it’s almost impossible for me to have any recall at all. Oh well, it will definitely get easier I guess, but I’m having enough trouble with all the teacher’s names! Like I said, daily embarrassments are kind of my thing and this inability to learn ANY names is definitely giving me an opportunity to live up to this.
Outside of school, I have been fairly exhausted. Although not so exhausted that I haven’t been able to go out to dinner to celebrate the first night of Ramadan (or Ramzan as it’s called here in Urdu). We went to a Café famous for their Haleem, a traditional Ramzan dish eaten at Ifran, to break the fast for the day at sundown. What I am about to describe may gross you out but I promise, it’s way better than it sounds. Basically it is pureed mutton (think the consistency of molasses) mixed with ghee, an Indian artery-clogging butter and sometimes garnished with almonds and a hard-boiled egg. It’s calorific and sits like a rock in your stomach. But surprisingly, I liked it. Especially since Hyderabad is famous the world over for Haleem. Of course, I feel like I’m cheating since I’m not actually fasting, but the Hindus here don’t fast either so we’re even. My roommate and I even got invited to the home of our local cell phone dealer who we have made friends with on Sunday night to break the fast with his family (don’t worry, we are going together and he’s not a creep, I promise!). So I’m definitely excited to see some more cultural activities.
Again I know I’m long winded and I appreciate you bearing with me. Wish me luck as I attempt to go and register for temporary residency here as a foreigner tomorrow. Someone once told me bureaucracy in India means jumping through lots of hoops and sucking up to people. Imagine that? Hasta el proximo… (and check out the pictures to come and the pictures I have already posted on here).
But anyways, now that my angsty self has divulged its feelings, I’ll get down more to the nitty gritty. The atmosphere at the school is great, with teachers treating each other like family and friends, and a general feeling of looking out for the well-being of all the students. That being said, it is a lot different than what I am used to. For instance, you can see a teacher smiling and laughing with a student at one moment and within seconds, that same teacher can turn around and smack another kid for not sitting up straight. As much as I hate to admit it though, the kids respond and all seem to pay more attention and be more active learners than you will see in an American classroom.
The classrooms themselves are definitely different. They all have chalkboards and a few rows of tables with attached chairs that the kids cram into. Many of these “classrooms” have a wall separating them from others that doesn’t quite go all the way up to the ceiling, so it can be hard to hear over neighboring classes. The teachers like to have kids stand up and read things aloud and then explain them afterwards, which means that often there isn’t enough time to explain everything since classes are at half-day during the month of Ramadan. Plus the kids are big on memorizing here so comprehension may be an issue. In India, passing or failing the test at the end of 10th grade determines the rest or your life. So to say that teachers have to teach to the test is an understatement. In the upper grades boys are way less participatory than girls, which honestly, kind of makes me happy – I like seeing the confidence that the girls have and they tend to outnumber the boys in class anyway. The content and subject matter though seem really well-thought out, and overall, I’m impressed with the education the students are receiving.
Of course, my favorite thing has to be the kids. I sat in on an Upper Kindergarten Class today and they were learning the alphabet with phonics techniques. Seeing 50 little five and six year olds shaking their hands and bodies to imitate jello for the letter “j” is absolutely priceless to say the least. What I definitely regret right now though is my inability to remember names. The girls keep testing me and I keep forgetting them, and then I feel really bad about it. But there’s just so many students with names I’ve never heard before that it’s almost impossible for me to have any recall at all. Oh well, it will definitely get easier I guess, but I’m having enough trouble with all the teacher’s names! Like I said, daily embarrassments are kind of my thing and this inability to learn ANY names is definitely giving me an opportunity to live up to this.
Outside of school, I have been fairly exhausted. Although not so exhausted that I haven’t been able to go out to dinner to celebrate the first night of Ramadan (or Ramzan as it’s called here in Urdu). We went to a Café famous for their Haleem, a traditional Ramzan dish eaten at Ifran, to break the fast for the day at sundown. What I am about to describe may gross you out but I promise, it’s way better than it sounds. Basically it is pureed mutton (think the consistency of molasses) mixed with ghee, an Indian artery-clogging butter and sometimes garnished with almonds and a hard-boiled egg. It’s calorific and sits like a rock in your stomach. But surprisingly, I liked it. Especially since Hyderabad is famous the world over for Haleem. Of course, I feel like I’m cheating since I’m not actually fasting, but the Hindus here don’t fast either so we’re even. My roommate and I even got invited to the home of our local cell phone dealer who we have made friends with on Sunday night to break the fast with his family (don’t worry, we are going together and he’s not a creep, I promise!). So I’m definitely excited to see some more cultural activities.
Again I know I’m long winded and I appreciate you bearing with me. Wish me luck as I attempt to go and register for temporary residency here as a foreigner tomorrow. Someone once told me bureaucracy in India means jumping through lots of hoops and sucking up to people. Imagine that? Hasta el proximo… (and check out the pictures to come and the pictures I have already posted on here).
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