#3: April Fools, First Leper Colonies, World’s Most Beautiful Children, Tomato Face, School vs. Colonies, Magical Magical Fireflies, Productive Workouts

April 2, 2011

For more visuals and less text, visit my FaceBook pics. I have two albums to organize them somewhat. “In a Relationship. With India. It’s Called Love” and
“Touching the Untouchables” with pics from the leprosy communities.

And for an incredible video of my second colony visit, check out what my roommate Audrey made: http://vimeo.com/21796849

Now, for my post:

It was an April Fool’s joke that I posted on Facebook that I’m showing the beginning signs of leprosy. Most of the world’s population is naturally immune (about 95-99%, depending on your source) and even if I did somehow get it, there is free medicine available that can totally cure it. Speaking of April Fools, on the last day of March when I was in the Bharathapuram Artists’ leprosy colony, I introduced myself, adding, “Tomorrow, April 1,” and pointed to myself. One of the men said “April Fool’s!” and we all laughed. So few of the people in the villages speak English that I was really surprised he would know that! And of course I’ve had a number of children here tell me excitedly that we’re in the month of April. Some say, “It’s your birthday!” and others just say, “April!” and point at the green board where their teacher mam has written the date. When kids tried to tell me it was April Fools Day, I said, “No, it’s not. That was yesterday. Today is April 2. You missed it!” and we would go back and forth, me with a very serious tone and them asserting that today is April 1. They still generally think that my name is delightfully peculiar. I, too, have found some rather unusual names here: One of my students is named Hari Krishnan (like the religion), there’s another student named Karl Marx and a former student named Joseph Stalin, and the doctor is totally Indian but her parents named her after some Christian missionaries years ago so she is Susan Hilton. They don’t usually do last names here, but will take their father’s name and use it as their first initial to distinguish between the multiple Vijays, Khartiks, Pavithras, etc.

I know that children in all parts of the world are beautiful, but maybe, just maybe, they are a little more beautiful in India? I can say this because I don’t have children yet and because I’m nowhere else but India right now. If I were in Uganda, visiting my nieces and nephews, or staying any other place then of course those children would be the most beautiful to me.

“Eat this carrot, Aunty.” “Eat bean.” “What is this? (cauliflower). Eat.” “Eat the tomato.” The boys are crowded around me and my dinner plate, practicing their English with my cuisine. I’m eating same as they’re eating, but true to form, I have added some of my own raw vegetables. So I really like veggies. Eating at the dining hall is always interesting. “Is that American food?” a housemother asks. “Um, I’m just unusual. Most people don’t eat like this.” In the U.S. my students were convinced that I was vegetarian (close, but nothing official), and here where most everyone is vegetarian, they ask if it’s American food. Funniest thing was when I bit into a tomato, it squirted onto the face of Khartik, a little boy next to me. He laughed, and I laughed, and all the boys laughed, and then they laughed more because I was laughing with tomato in my mouth and tomato on his face and it was so silly. Yesterday Khartik saw me again and said, “Aunty! You! Tomato!” and made this splat action and sound with his face.

I miss my greens. Two nights ago when we went out to eat paratha at a little joint in the town of Uthiramerur about 30 minutes away, they served our food on a banana leaf on a plate, much like you would find food served on big lettuce leaves in the U.S. Well, I started to eat mine and got the weirdest stares—from my volunteer friends and the people in the restaurant. Apparently nobody eats banana leaves. They taste all right. Kind of like raw collard.

Brain Gym teacher trainings 1 and 2 were a great hit! Teachers still come up to me telling me success stories of how they have implemented the exercises in their classes, and I have students randomly showing me what they’ve learned. I myself have also found students responding well to the activities, like when they are getting fidgety in class or while tutoring if a student is hitting a wall. I am excited to help with teacher inservice in May, focusing more on creativity in the classroom, alternative forms of discipline, and nonviolent communication for problem-solving. We will hopefully do a parent workshop also. We finish this school year on April 16, with the new school year beginning May 30. This leaves me with a month and a half to focus on the colonies and to travel for a couple of weeks when the doctor is on vacation too.

This break in my volunteering work leaves me with mixed feelings. I feel that my time here is so short, I want to use every moment to full capacity. My expectations are high, I know. I initially applied to Rising Star Outreach planning to work solely as a massage therapist in the leprosy communities, but they have had a real need for me in the school. So I spend more time in the school right now with occasional days in the colonies. It’s been a little disappointing because I love my work in the colonies so much and that’s “what I came here to do,” but I also truly love my work in the school and I am so grateful to have this experience. Bottom line, I want to be used where and how I am most helpful.

A few nights ago I went on a walk with Chris Jensen, another volunteer who I am adopting as one of my mothers. (I’ve adopted some amazing mothers, not to mention the one who birthed me!) We left in the late afternoon and went in a new direction, walking on a little dirt road through areas marked for home development. After a while of deep conversation, we came to a little village where one of Chris’ students eagerly ran up to her and invited us to her humble home. It was getting late and we didn’t bring a torch (or cameras) with us because we didn’t plan to be gone that long, but we also knew it would be a real honor for them and we didn’t want to refuse the family’s graciousness. At the front of the house is sort of a room for their cow, and Mounika’s mom was milking it. Of course, I wanted to try. I’ve gone to great lengths in more than one country to fulfill my dream of milking a cow, but I still don’t feel that I can really say that I’ve milked one. The mom obliged my request, and I squatted and began to squeeze. Problem is, she switched out her almost-full pail for one with a much smaller opening and I knew instantly I was going to struggle. How could I, a cow-milking novice, ever aim into that? I got one squirt out and missed the pot, the rest of my squeezes being so pitiable and useless that the cow got irritated and moved to the opposite wall. Chris explained to our guests that most people in the U.S. don’t have cows. Mounika and her family gave us delicious freshly boiled sweetened milk in porcelain cups and saucers, and we chatted a few minutes before setting off for home.

Walking in darkness, sparing the torch that Mounika had lent us, we came upon the most magical, serene spot in the road. Chris noticed them first, millions of fireflies shimmering all around us unlike anything we had ever seen. It was something like the scene from “Avatar” when the floating jellyfish-like insects light up the trees. We paused a while in silence to soak in this moment, awestruck at the simple grandeur of such a sight. I am guilty of often forgetting to stop and smell the roses, so I appreciate my observant friends who point out such beauties to me. I’ve never picked out colors or a venue or the blessed man yet, but I want fireflies at my wedding reception. And fireworks.

Tonight’s forecast: Clear skies, beautiful stars and constellations of fireflies. Magical, magical fireflies. Tomorrow’s forecast: Sunny, hot and humid. Repeat.

Daily exercise is my “April time” and I relish it. These days I often run the stairs at our hostel or do P90X. I like feeling “worked,” to find that place of personal finish and to really enjoy my shower afterward. I’m blessed with lots of energy and it sometimes takes a lot for me to feel done. Today I was running the stairs and alternately reading or holding weights for extra challenge (I’m crazy. Nothing new), while one of the teachers was sitting nearby with piles of books he was grading for some reason in our hallway/courtyard.

I remembered Chris Jensen telling me about this particular teacher, whom she has been tutoring, how his diligence and humble commitment landed him a job at Rising Star despite his subpar English. On the weekends he works hard construction with his mother, earning about $1 a day, to help pay off his school loan (most of his paycheck). His father died of starvation. While I was running and sweating on the stairs, trying to make my work harder, it hit me how ironic and probably unfair this is that I have the liberty to choose such a frivolous workout when tomorrow, Vijay Kumar is going to be working just as hard under much different circumstances. And next door at the school, wiry men and women work daily carrying loads of cement on their heads and slabs of granite in their arms, building the physics lab. My workout had no other product than making me feel better and stronger and incredibly sweaty, but I could have gotten a workout by helping someone build something or by working on their farm. Writing this, I’m not intending to invoke self-beratement and needless guilt. Gratitude is a much healthier place to reside, and I seek to let my awareness move me to appropriate action—such as being able to help in more ways when opportunity arises, because I am healthy and fit.

Coming soon: Cricket, Star Store, nail polish, watching movie-watchers and more about the colonies