I will be a different kind of mother for having spent time in India. For example, I likely won’t be as quick to chide my children for eating with their fingers or “playing” with their food because, well, the adults do it here too. I’ve been eating lunch and sometimes dinner at the school, and it wasn’t until the second day that I realized I was the only one with a utensil in the dining hall of 180 kids and their teachers. Immediately I set it aside and pulled out my clean hands. I felt authentic, and honestly enjoyed eating with my fingers.
Lately, I have switched to only using my right hand when eating in public. My second day eating Indian-style, sitting on the floor with no utensils, I started eating with my left hand without thinking about it. (I’ve been using my left hand almost equally with my right for 12 years now). A little boy sitting next to me bravely leaned over and asked me, “Auntie, why are you using your left hand?” I looked up and I could tell he was uncomfortable and concerned. In fact, the whole line of little boys I was sitting with looked politely shocked that I would use that hand to eat and they nodded encouragingly for me to use my right hand. Later I asked one of the housemothers why it is wrong to eat with the left hand, and she laughed embarrassedly. “I’m shy,” she said. I remembered hearing somewhere that the left hand in India is used for toileting, and I mentioned this to her. “Yes. You people from America use toilet paper, but we in India don’t.” She used little words, but I got her meaning. Note to future India travelers: Use your right hand for eating.
“Whatisyourname? Why you name April? When is your birthday? When you go to Meh-di-ca?” The children here bombard me with questions. The first week it was about my name and my birthday. I’ve had so many giggles about my name and the kids are even more puzzled when they ask for my birthday, because I wasn’t even born in April! My beloved name is so silly here.
It seems my name would translate to Chithirai, the first month of the year (mid-April to mid-May) or Panguni, the last month of the year (mid-March to mid-April). As I told kids that my birthday was March 26, I had dozens coming up to me whenever they saw me outside of a class, saying “Your birthday is March 26?” “Auntie, your birthday is Saturday? Are you bringing chocolate?” Apparently it is tradition for the birthday child to bring chocolate for his friends. I tease, “Aren’t YOU going to bring ME chocolate?” And they smile no.
Even though India received me from sunny San Diego, I was feeling a bit sun-deprived when I arrived. Being solar-powered as I am, I was delighted to find that the other volunteers were planning to go to Mamalapuram on the 26th to a western-style resort and beach. About $6 to swim and sun, relax and read. I celebrated my birthday on the beach and loved it. I did get sunburned, and I had a few kids and adults ask me that night, “What happened to your face?” Apparently they don’t see sunburn that often!
The best part was the next day during Interval (recess) when a number of kids came up to me showing me the trick to get out of “Hook Ups” where you twist your arms into sort of a self-hug and cross your legs at the ankles.
Tropical climate = plethora of frogs and geckos everywhere (kitchen, bathroom, paths and streets as well as the usual ponds) + delightful fireflies + a few mosquitoes + reports of exotic snakes (I have yet to see one though I always come running when I hear of a sighting) + very hot and humid = lots of sweat.
Third-world country = incredibly bumpy roads + playing chicken with opposing vehicles even if you’re the only ones in sight on the road because you both want to drive in the middle where it tends to be smoothest + multiple uses for the horn including turn signal, warning to pass vehicles or people, and just generally honking because you have a horn + livestock have the right of way. Don’t mess with ol’ Bess.
Third-world country = awesome bucket showers + piles of trash all over the cities and countryside + power outages several times a day, anywhere from one second to an hour, but usually only for a few minutes. At least we have power.
Despite living in a country notorious for its poverty, I feel spoiled every day, even to the point of almost being cheated from some depth of the human experience. We have running water and even purified drinking water from a tap in the volunteer hostel and at the school next door. There are two washing machines and some ladies clean the hostel daily. I am posting this using wireless Internet. Traditional clothes are provided for me, as well as linens, and all of the rooms have fans and air conditioning to cope with the very hot and humid weather. I sleep on two firm little mattresses instead of one, because we only have a few volunteers right now. When I don’t go to the colonies, I can eat three delicious meals a day at the school’s dining hall. The food beats any cafeteria food I’ve ever had, and I like the spicy curry.
I came here wanting to understand poverty better and how to alleviate human suffering, expecting to embrace whatever challenges presented themselves, realizing that I would never be able to predict or fully prepare for what twists and turns life would take on this part of the journey. How ironic that my test for the moment is that it seems too easy. Am I a masochist for personal challenge? I will always be my own greatest foe, and my struggles I carry with me wherever I go. It is possible that I just have an especially optimistic attitude, “rosy-colored glasses” so that I just don’t interpret difficulties as such. But I try to keep my “glasses” clear, to experience reality for what it is, and I am convinced that I am spoiled. I practice gratitude.
Next post I will tell more about the school and my first leper colony...
Loving sunshine and air conditioning,
Aunty-April-yes-that-is-my-crazy-name
