Articles about India

The New York Times is doing a series of articles about development in India. Given that I'm working in areas, which are specifically under developed, they provide a different perspective on India.

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/world/asia/IndiasWay.html?hp#

Have fun!
Erica

I'm at the Edge of Delhi (A very long post.)

So after getting over jetlag and doing data entry in Dehradun, I took off for Delhi over my self-appointed Christmas break. I was in Delhi from the 24-27^th, but got in on the night of the 23^rd and left the morning of the 28^th. So, it might have been 3.5 days total.

            It is difficult to imagine any other place where even just sitting in an apartment can make you so over stimulated that you feel like you need a nap by 2:00 PM. I feel like I’ve been gone for a week, even though I’ve only been gone for half of that time. Also, the PhD students at the Institute aren’t used to a Christmas break, so they all acted like I’d been gone for a month.

            As you can probably imagine, Delhi is a city that feels very similar to New York in some parts and very similar to Hades in others. I’ve heard that Mumbai is even more polarized, but Delhi feels like it is already at the extreme. I stayed in Lajpat Nagar, which is where a lot of expats and wealthy Indians live. It is right on the Metro Line. Nevertheless, if you get off the metro in Chandri Chowk, you end up right in the heart of Old Delhi with no warning to transition between the gated community of Lajpat Nagar and the medieval turned post-apocalyptic streets of Old Delhi.

            Both areas are charming and engaging in their own ways. The one trait that is universally not charming is the air quality. Even just doing yoga made me feel like my lungs had been shrunk about three times. I definitely got a cold just from the assault on my sinuses. I’d say that Lajpat Nagar is expensive and doesn’t feel “real” the way that Dehradun does. It feels very produced, similar to other new, posh neighborhoods in NYC and the surrounding Jersey areas. Nevertheless, you don’t get harassed in Lajpat Nagar and you can readily find the ingredients for orange French toast on a Christmas morning. Old Delhi is almost entirely the opposite. It is chaotic, people harass any white person—a lot of tourists pass through—it smells both like food and excrement, and you can tell that it has been inhabited longer than any American city. There are a lot of wonderful things to see in Old Delhi, especially if you like street food and old buildings. But it is not a sustainable pace. Lajpat Nagar, on the other hand, is very livable but does not offer much other than high-end shopping.

            The first day in Delhi, we just hung around Lajpat Nagar. Ali came down from Dehradun with me and we just unwound during the 24^th. On Christmas day, everyone was talking with their families, so I just wanted to get out of the apartment to take my mind off of being in India during Christmas for the second time in four years.  Ali and I tried going to the mansion that Gandhi lived in and where he was also assassinated. It was closed, probably because some politician was visiting. My friend at the Wildlife Institute told me that it’s been closed for such events every time he’s tried to go there. We then walked through the wealthy part of Delhi that was built up by the British and wealthy colonial and post-colonial Indians, which felt similar to Lajpat Nagar, but older. We made it to Lodi Gardens, which is a collection of Mughal era buildings that have been converted into a park. A lot of Indian families were there having Christmas day picnics on the green spaces in between these 16^th century buildings.

            From Lodi Gardens we walked what Indian aunties warned us was “very, very far,” to Khan Market. Khan Market is a very upscale shopping area slightly north of Lajpat Nagar. It is close to where we spent our first few days in India during the Fulbright orientation. In Khan Market, we found a respectable-looking butcher, who I talked about mutton with for some time. Eventually, he recommended a particular leg-of-goat and then began cutting it up for me. I must have exuded more confidence than my mostly vegetarian life should exude, because he seemed very concerned that I approve of his carving technique.

            Once back in Lajpat Nagar, I made mutton with yogurt marinade, which was really amazing. It probably also helped that we had all been eating mostly potatoes, lentils, and random in-season veggies for the past several months. But overall, the mutton was a success. Ali also found some broccoli in the fancy market part of the butcher’s shop. Broccoli might not sound fancy, but it’s rarely available in Dehradun. For dessert, Devin managed to find some doughnuts from somewhere in Delhi and made them into a birthday cake for her husband, Brian.

            Overall, it was a successful Christmas day, and much better than the one that I spent in Patna four years ago. Granted, pretty much anywhere is a better place to spend Christmas than Patna. I really did not suffer too much for being away from home on Christmas. It definitely helped that I was just home for Thanksgiving. I will say that I got pretty grumpy while I was making mutton, and Peter and my mom kept on calling me over a bad connection; but Christmas has never been as emotional for me as it has been for other people. I generally prefer the fall holidays to the winter ones. Although, it will probably be tough to go through my birthday when I am far away from everyone.

            The next day, Ali and I went to the B’hai Lotus Temple, which was beautiful, although closed. There we met a very nice South Asian American family from Detroit, who I initially offended when I tried speaking in Hindi to them. Eventually, they were so excited that I’m probably going to the University of Michigan next year that they took a picture with Ali and myself. They were unfortunately not the only people we met there. Nick had warned us that he had heard of weird people hanging around the Lotus Temple, and we met one. Within three minutes of getting off of the metro, a French tourist accosted us, and immediately said, “Do you need a taxi?” He then proceeded to walk with us and talk to us even though he did not introduce himself or ask if we minded the company. Ali, being from the Midwest, spoke to him, although in a very guarded and clearly disinterested manner. I, being from the New York area, just ignored him. He stood creepily behind us while we spoke to the Indian American family, and then rejoined us only to accuse us of being defensive. He refused to leave us alone until I said: “A lot of rapes happen in the United States, and a lot happen in India. Therefore, I don’t speak to all strange men, whether I’m there or here.” His response, if he were a normal human being, should have been: “Oh god, I would never do that. I didn’t know I was making you that uncomfortable.” His sociopath response was: “How would I rape two women, out her in broad daylight?” In France does rape mean consent or was he just a complete misogynist? I’ll never know, because after that point he left us alone. We soon left too.

            Being a woman in India is tricky, because a lot of women come to India from other countries and do experiment with drugs, ashrams, and tantric sex, or what they believe is tantric sex. I’m studying reproductive tract infections. Don’t try to flirt with me. I should just carry a picture of cervical cancer with me and show it to any future European tourists who hope that I am of the easily influenced, dharma-surfer type.

            Fortunately, the next trip was much better. We went to Tughlaqabad Fort, which was built around 1320, but soon after fell into disuse. According to legend/history a Sufi Saint put a curse on the builder of the fort and it was abandoned. It is not on the regular tourist trail, but it has a very old feel to it, as it was in ruins before it was ever a heritage site. As a result, not too many tourists go there and it was very peaceful and beautiful. We were also there during the late afternoon, so the lighting lit up all of the stones that made up this huge compound.

            The next day my friends were in town and we ended up meeting up at a Sikh festival, which involved a lot of sitting on the floor listening to Sikh devotional music and then sitting on the floor eating food that was prepared for the entire community. It was probably a bit of a culture shock for my friends, but they seemed to enjoy the cultural experience. I really enjoyed the signing, although I’m pretty terrible at sitting on the floor for long periods of time. The food was also amazing, and I’m excited to visit the Golden Temple in Amritsar when I go there in late January. The mess hall in the Golden Temple has a chapatti making machine for feeding anyone who wants food and visits the place. I’ve heard that the Golden Temple can feed up to 3,000 people in a day.

            The next day, my friends decided that they wanted to meet up at the Red Fort or Lal Qila. The problem was that there are multiple entrances to the Lal Qila and we waited for each other for about thirty minutes. Another problem with something like the Red Fort is that white women can get photographed a lot, which I really hate. I try not to photograph Indians, but sometimes it is hard to avoid when I’m taking a picture of a crowded area. There is a big difference between even asking to take someone’s picture and following her with your camera while grinning. Even worse, is when I’m standing and an Indian guy slyly tries to stand next to me while his friend takes a picture. By the end of the day, I was getting up in people’s faces and yelling at them in Hindi. This seemed to shock some of my friends, but the thing is that Indian women would never put up with that. One of my Indian friends told me that if someone tries to grope me, I should grab him by the collar and yell at him until a crowd of people forms around us. So, me yelling in someone’s face is comparatively tame.

            The fort in itself was not super impressive compared to the other Mughal buildings that I’ve seen, but it was a nice historical structure. The best part afterwards was navigating Old Delhi to get to the Parantha Walla, which is a small open-air restaurant that specializes in paranthas, or stuffed bread. I had a radish parantha and a paneer (cheese) parantha. My friends also seemed very excited about the paranthas. Paranathas can make you feel better after getting followed around by the gangliest of Indian teens.

            As you can imagine, Delhi is an intense place. It does not bring out the best in a foreigner unless you are very capable of tolerating alot stimulation and the occasional harassment. The reason that I get so irritated when Indian men follow me around with a camera is not only that it is invasive and dehumanizing, but that it stems from a fascination with white women, which I find very disturbing. White women have a reputation for being sexually loose and I want to do everything to prevent people from thinking that white women enjoy being photographed like animals during a safari. If I act upset like anyone would be, I have the hope that it will show that this behavior is not welcomed and that white women, despite what the prevalence of Western pornography in India might suggest, are human beings.

            I know that Indian women also have to suffer through harassment. But it is more like what I deal with when I’m walking through West Philly or riding the subway in New York. It is covert and fleeting. To be pursued is entirely different and fortunately, much less common for my Indian friends than it is for me. I’ve read subaltern history about how American and Europe exoticizes Indian and African women, turning them into sexual objects. I believe that this is true; and that a European or American opinion is far more detrimental, as those countries have greater media and economic power. Nevertheless, I just wish that what is different and exotic didn’t always have to be sexualized. I’m not sure why the two go hand-in-hand so much, but they do. Why can’t I just be seen as horribly pale and disgusting and we can get on with our lives?

            What I can say is that even though I was harassed, I still really enjoyed Delhi. The impressiveness of Lodi Gardens and the Fort far outweighed a few unpleasant run ins. Most importantly, I never actually felt in danger throughout the entire experience. The weird French guy clearly thought that we were idiots, but we weren't, so we remained safe. Similarly, the awkward Indian men taking my photos, probably didn’t actually expect that I’d notice, care or confront them. In the end, they were the people who looked less-than-human. Throughout all of the experiences, I feel much more composed and in control than when I was in Jaipur four years ago.

            While Delhi has it’s downsides, it is also much more vibrant and lively than Dehradun, and therefore it reminds me more of New York City. In a way, I felt more at home in Delhi than in Dehradun. Also, I only had issues when I went to tourist places in the city. If I were just to live in one city out of the two, I’d probably live long term in Delhi. But it is much nicer to be in Dehradun for the extent of my Fulbright.           

            

I'm at the Edge of Delhi (Photos First)

Hello all!

Sorry for the silence. I've been in Delhi for the past five days, celebrating Christmas. A lot happened and I'll write about it all. But I will first post the link to my photos, because I'm too tired now to do any serious writing.

https://plus.google.com/photos/101737615291512796999/albums/5691109486752464913

Enjoy and Happy New Year!
Erica

Like Soap for Chocolate

My Hindi is slowly coming back, and fortunately in India there are always enough Aunties to chat with in the morning and evening. Initially, I was too nervous about my Hindi’s degradation to really want to talk to people. But now I’m feeling more ambitious. Granted, I am not excited to return to Joshimath just yet. I’m also working myself up to talking in just Hindi with the PhD students with whom I work. I would feel bad not to pay someone to speak with me, because it is probably very nails-on-chalkboard for a native speaker to listen to me speak in Hindi.

Regardless, I am excited that on the way to work I began speaking with a woman who used to be a servant for the family that owns my house. Since they have moved to Nepal, she has had to find other work. We were talking about how cold Dehradun is—it’s really not—and about how nice Dr. Rawat’s house is. When she heard that I’m form America, she starting telling me that American chocolate is very good. I could not believe that was her association with America! I told her that I also enjoyed American chocolate, because Indian chocolate tastes like Hershey’s mixed with soap. Only not as bitter as soap, fortunately. Well, I left out my rant about Indian chocolate when I was speaking with her, because I didn’t want to rub salt in the wound. But she grabbed my arm and started enthusiastically talking about American chocolate when I agreed with her. We’re still number 1.

But actually, we’re not number 1 in the chocolate field. I had a layover in Brussels going and coming back from America. I got chocolate going home and alcohol coming back. I shared the chocolates with my family and with Peter and everyone agreed that Belgium chocolate was so good that it has become clear that Europe is only exporting the dregs of their chocolate batches to America. I wonder what this woman would do if I had brought her Belgium truffles.

This brings me to my final point of the post. Why can’t Indians make decent chocolate and baked goods? The British did colonize them and I understand that does not lead to mature taste buds. But the British also enjoy privacy. This has not made an imprint on Indian culture. So, I just don’t understand why one of the most quickly developing nations in the world has to rely on other countries for their baked goods and chocolates. Indians do make sweets. These sweets are generally a combination of condensed milk, milk powder, rosewater or almonds, and more sugar than what is in a vat of Kool Aid. Side note: Diabetes is on the rise in India. There is no doubt that it takes skill to make these ingredients into something that holds a shape and has numerous different textures and flavors. So, why does every attempt at baking and making chocolate fail? This country can outsource everything except for high-quality desserts.

At first I thought that there wouldn’t be enough call for such confections in India. But everyone from wealthy PhD students to servants seems to completely love American and European desserts. Get it together Indian chefs! When your best and brightest students have Harvard and MIT listed as “safety schools,” then you know that you have the brainpower to overcome American chocolates. Let’s not even try to present Belgium as the power to beat.

This has nothing to do with anything except that it makes waking up at 4 AM better

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVVorvXojhE&feature=feedrec_grec_index



I can't be mad at the world, even when I keep waking up hours before dawn.

With Jetlag Comes Reflection

          I’ve been back in India since the evening of the 13^th. Unsurprisingly, less than four days back in India and I’m already contemplating the state of things pretty heavily. Also unsurprisingly, jetlag doesn’t really go away with a 9 ½ hour time difference for a week. Gar! But with exhaustion, comes a lot of time lying in bed and thinking about what I’m doing here and what exactly it is that I want to accomplish.

            Upon coming back to India, there are many things that I’m happy with and others that I feel are unsettling. For one, I have numerous friends both American and Indian, which is a huge improvement over my previous entry into India. Additionally, I have a better sense of how to navigate Dehradun, which gives me more independence and self-confidence. I have decent access to internet and a phone, which keeps me connected to my loved ones in the United States. I’m not longer sobbing over a disconnected SIM card, which is keeping me from calling my Mom when I’m feeling sick. 

            Reentry also highlights my initial idealism and concepts. It shows me how wrong I was about some of my assumptions. For one, I thought it would be easy to relearn Hindi. I was not only incorrect, but I’ve forgotten a good deal of my Hindi due to my month in America. Hopefully, I’ll get it back. I also thought that differences in caste and socio-economic status wouldn’t affect my social life. But it has. As a white, educated, American it is difficult for me to establish friendships with people who are not the Indian equivalent of myself. Good examples are Jannat and Didi. Originally, I really wanted to befriend them. But living so close to them, they could see how my life was unlike anything that they had previously seen. Without any idea of how American women behave, they thought I was acting dangerously and tried to change my behavior. My friends who are getting their PhD in the Wildlife Institute understand my background and my opinions. While they might not always agree with me, they have a context in which to establish a debate with me. The difference between scolding and debating can be all the difference in friendship; at least when there are only a few months to get to know each other.

            Other assumptions that I made include thinking that loneliness would be the end of me. I pictured myself having a nervous breakdown and getting on a plane back to America. Adjusting to the downtime and the time alone is challenging. I am going through a mini-version of this right now; fortunately, it is nothing compared to my original entry into India. But even though I miss my family and friends, I do appreciate that this is the first time in my life where I have almost complete mental and emotional space. I am befriending other students at the Wildlife Institute, and they are amazing. But they aren’t going to make an imprint on my day-to-day thoughts and actions the way that my close friends do in America. It is the perfect time for reflection.

            Of course, when reflecting it is difficult not to become melancholy. I had issues with this before I went back to America. After interviewing at 9 schools, I found out that I got into three so far. It is a huge relief that I will be in medical school next year, and what’s more that I will be happy where I end up going. It gives me a much more relaxed view of my life here. I fully know that next year will be one of the hardest years of my life. So, it becomes much easier to relax about my time here. While I do want to perform good research, I also don’t want to loose sight of the fact that I will be working for the rest of my life. I will be going back to Delhi for Christmas and then my friends from America will be coming in the evening of the 26^th. I’m looking forward to having a lot of fun before I venture back up into the mountains and continue my research.

Oh, you want to stay warm and not die?

It is getting colder in the mountains. I can handle it—it will never get as cold as it routinely does in Minnesota, and there is no snow here, unlike on the East Coast right now. Also, it is very dry, which makes it easier to stay warm. But there is absolutely no heating in houses. Also, all houses are made from concrete and stone, with stone floors—not very warming.

So, after layering clothes for days on end, I decided to break down and buy a space heater. I hesitated only because the family who I’m staying with does not use them yet, and I felt like I could hack it as well. But they are also Garhwalis, and therefore are used to this weather. I might have grown up in colder climates, but I also grew up in houses with insulation.

There are a variety of ways to keep one’s room warm in India. None of them are central heating, but rather an array of dangerous space heaters. I wanted a small, cheap one that I could either carry easily with me to my next field site or just leave here without regret. One shopkeeper recommended a sort of small, portable stove with a ceramic top. It was cheap and he said that it would keep a small room warm. Given that space heaters in India aren’t particularly safe, I figured an actual stove would be a fair approximation.

When I took the device home, I saw that it had no plug. I have seen Indians putting stripped wires into sockets and I knew this is what the shopkeeper had assumed that I would do as well. But I decided to go back the next day and ask him to put a plug on the wires. He cordially agreed and handed the finished work back to me. I asked, predicting where this would go, to test the stove out in the store. He eagerly agreed, plugged it in, turned it on, and then backed away quickly as the “on” light bulb was shot out of the stovetop. He looked at the stove understandingly, fiddled with wires some more, and then tried again. This time there was a legit explosion with smoke and an awful smell. He showed me that a bare wire had touched the iron of the stove, and then told me that he would give me another one. I argued that it was, “Safe nahi hai,” and he gave me a refund without any argument.

In the next store, I purchased a space heater of the same design that Victoria has in Mussoorie. It is much safer, unless you put your wet socks on it to try them. Victoria’s socks now have burn marks, but otherwise everyone was safe. It is now next to my bed, shining with an uncomforting amount of orange glow. Fortunately, there are no small children around. This space heater also came without a plug, but the shopkeeper that I bought it from was much more competent with electronics.

The good news about all of this is that, as I previously mentioned, all houses are made from stone and concrete. So, the fire hazard is relatively small. I wondered if the spaces heaters would be designed with safety in mind if houses were made from wood. But then I remember that this is India, and I know that they would not be. For a country with a very large population, there seem to be many ways for Darwinism to play out. I wonder what the population would be if there weren’t so many ways—traffic accidents, dangerous appliances, monkeys, and diseases, to name a few—that slow or just unlucky children can succumb to evolutionary tests.

In terms of work, I have been busy. I'm now up to 35 surveys, which is amazing! I had hoped to have 25 by the time that I got back to America, and it looks like I'll have 40 or more. The women who I've been working with are great, and are very helpful during the interviews. It's also an excuse to see beautiful, natural areas. On my days off, I don't really feel like hiking, because I'm usually recovering from my field work. Plus, all the tourist areas aren't as beautiful as the villages that we end up just finding.

One tradition that I have found is that the whole village eats a blessed lunch together. This happened both in Baragoan and Meerak, two small villages in which I work. I did eat the lunch with the people who I was working with, and did not get sick. The nice aspect about this is that it shows that these villages do have a large sense of community, even though self-appointed "experts" on the area claim that urban migration is ruining Garhwali communities. This is true to some extent, but even if men migrate to cities, it is clear that a lot of women maintain community traditions without them. Besides, there have been a lot of men at these free lunches, so I doubt how much time the experts have really spent with the people in these villages. 

I met a very nice family in Meerak, and they invited me back to their house on Sunday. Their daughter, Anuja, wants to learn English and she says that she will teach me Garhwali in exchange for English. That sounds like a good plan, but I don't know if my Hindi is up for it. Her father will be in their home on Sunday and he speaks English, so we'll see what kind of language exchange happens.

Most importantly, I'm flying back to the USA in less-than-a-week. Exciting!

A long post, covering emotions, culture and missionaries

I am back in Joshimath after spending Diwali in Dehradun and Mussoorie respectively. It was a welcomed break from fieldwork, but was pretty draining itself. I am however, very happy that I made the switch. Based upon the amount of sweets that the family here has given me AFTER Diwali, I think I would have died from diabetes if I had actually been here for the real deal.

Tomorrow is Halloween and Monica—the fifteen-year-old girl whose family I am staying with—is turning sixteen. The whole sixteen-years-old thing is not a thing here at all. But I am hoping that I can try to share some Halloween with her for her birthday. I was hoping to find a green coconut or a kaddu to carve for Halloween, but my prospects are looking bleak, as Joshimath is not as well stocked as Dehradun. I will probably get a hard coconut and try to use nails or something to make the semblance of a face.

Now that I am getting ready to come back home, I am strangely feeling more homesick than I was before. Why does knowing that I’m going to see people soon make me miss them more? It also makes the thought of coming back for five or six more months very daunting. But I have to remember that the medical school process will be more-or-less completed at that point, so I should feel a lot less anxious, which will be nice.

It’s weird what I miss and what I do not miss while I am in India. Obviously, I miss people. That is a given. And that doesn’t really change over time. Right now, I am living in a three-room apartment, which experiences frequent power cuts and only gets water about twice a day. Strangely, I do not miss reliable electricity or water. I do miss easy hot water though, especially now that it’s getting colder. Fortunately, I pay for the gas, so I don’t feel guilty for boiling a lot of water for bathing. I do not miss going out at night, but I do miss good Internet. The Internet is my only way of constantly being connected with people. It also is a means of escapism. As much as I do love India, it is nice to read about what stupid thing Michelle Bachmann said or to read about the Occupy Wallstreet Protests. Knowing about what is happening in America makes me feel less disconnected from the people back home.

It is also funny what incidents annoy me and which I couldn’t care less about—I hate it when people lie to me, but I don’t mind paying more money than Indians. Essentially, these are the same things. If someone lies to me about why they were late for a meeting, it is no different than if someone lies to me about the price of a piece of fruit. The difference that I see is that the person who is selling me food, expects me to pay more. They charge all foreigners more. I know this and they know this, therefore it doesn’t seem like a lie. I can choose to argue or to walk away or to just pay and save myself the energy. But if someone tells me that my internet will be fixed tomorrow, when they know that is not true. Or if someone tells me that they will call me back in ten minutes, and then never call; I get really irate. I don’t know if Indians experiences this or not. But I don’t think I’d care either way. I just don’t like being lied to.

I explain to my Indian friends that Americans are very direct. They say, “Oh yes, in India as well.” No. You’re wrong. I don’t like to tell people when they’re wrong about their own culture; but even the Director of the United States India Education Fund agrees that Indians tend to be more passive in their conversation. This is something that is hard for me to navigate. It also means that what I perceive to be a flat out lie might be someone else’s way of being polite. It would be very rude to say that one cannot talk or does not want to talk. It is better to say that you will call back. It would be rude to not invite someone over to your house, but you might not actually want that person to come over at all.

Therefore, I miss direct conversation. I miss feeling like I know how to control a situation. I have, however noted that Garhwali women yell a lot. So, I fee comfortable yelling for the time being. At least when my internet is not working.

As for Diwali…that can be best summed up with this conversation.

PhD student: Are you going to celebrate Diwali at the Wildlife Institute?

Me: No, I am going to Mussoorie.

PhD student: Are you and your friends going to set off crackers?

Me: Yes, but I think only small ones. You know, selling these fireworks to just anyone would be illegal in America.

PhD student: (looks aghast) If you took away our crackers, there would be riots in the street.

Indeed there would be. There are fireworks for the three days up to and the three days after Diwali. Diwali itself is a complete madhouse, albeit, a wonderful madhouse. Very small children light very large fireworks though, which I am not a fan of. In Mussoorie, we got some smaller firecracker and some sparklers. If you ever want to light an Indian firework, you should know that they are actually very difficult to light. That is actually appealing to me normally, but it is not appealing when there are three people huddled around a cracker trying to light it. It probably took Nick and Andy about thirty minutes to light even a sparkler. There was one point when Nick and I were trying to make a human shield around matches that kept on going out no matter how quickly Andy lit them and put them to the supposed fuse. Meanwhile, Kerala kept yelling “stand back.” I think we went through all of Victoria’s matches, and a lot of her candles to try to lit the fuses. Eventually we had some firecrackers. But our neighbors outdid us and there were actual, very large fireworks right about us. Fortunately, we were not underneath the ashes as they fell.

The thing that none of us could understand were the “bombs.”  These are firecrackers that make no light, but only a very loud noise. At one point we were certain that people were sneaking into the apartment and lighting them inside, because there was no way that anything that loud could come from the street. But it was possible, and it was possible up to about 3:00 AM.

Diwali is a funny holiday. In Mussoorie there were fires, crackers, fireworks, bombs, and drunken people in the street. But when I returned to Dehradun, I saw that the professors who I work with and the PhD students had a very different Diwali. Theirs’ was more like Christmas than New Year’s Eve: lots of lights, lots of ghee lamps, and lots of decorations. Also, they ate a lot of sweets. Similarly, up in Joshimath things seem pretty tame. Some people light fireworks and crackers even now. But the family decorated the house and made a lot of food. It is both a very public and private holiday. Christmas can be like that as well, but something about Diwali especially evokes the dichotomy of chaos and order unlike anything that I have previously seen in the United States.

I’m not judging the drunkenness. We had a couple of drinks up in Mussoorie. If anyone out there wants a marketing Fulbright, I recommend studying liquor marketing in India. There is a vodka named “White Mischief;” but believe me, the white people were not the ones causing mischief on Diwali. There is also a Whiskey called Antiquarium. The bottles are designed to look like Grey Goose or Hennessey, but fail miserably. For some reason a bottle of vodka had a frosted exterior, like Grey Goose, but instead of the goose it had a guitar on it. On the opposite side of the bottle, viewed through the guitar was a man swimming. Something was very, very wrong with his shoulder. Nick asked me to diagnose his illness, and we mutually decided that is what happens if you swim while drinking vodka. Indian vodka companies don’t write out the risks of their products, they show you them. Very responsible.

Overall, it was a very good Diwali. As much as it would have been nice to have a sweet-overloaded, cozy Diwali with the family in Joshimath, I am very glad that I had some fun with some friends. Also, Diwali is completing insane, and it’s good to reflect on that with other outsiders.

After that rollicking discussion, I’m going to sum up this long blog post with a more serious topic. Over the past week back in Dehradun, I met one woman who openly told Alison and I that she is a missionary and two people who clearly are missionaries, although they had a very weak lie to explain their presence in India. Forcing or encouraging religious conversion is illegal in India. You can convert to any religion you would like to here. You can also go to a Christian Church with services in any language. But one cannot try to actively convert someone to a religion. I knew that missionaries were still coming to India, but I never expected someone to directly tell me that she is a missionary. This woman has been in India for eleven years and I told her that being a missionary, in the traditional sense, is illegal. She said, “No it’s not.” She then proceeded to explain medical missionaries. She knew that I am studying medicine, so I’m surprised that she thought that I’d fall for the medical missionary defense. Medical missionaries provide medical care, often funded through church groups. This woman was not a medical missionary.

The two women who I met with a thin lie were more aware of their position in India. But their lie was bad and their knowledge of India flimsy. They said that they were exporting spices. Nick, Alison and I compared our conversations with them later and found that we all knew more about spices than they did. It is worth noting that Alison is studying Tibetan history in India, so these girls should have not have been schooled by her. I also am from Jersey City, I can take the PATH to Journal Square aka Curry Square. We are not in dire need of more spices being imported to the United States. As Nick aptly put it: “We don’t need Marco Polo.”

I have serious issues with the woman who was honest about her missionary work, but lied about its legality. She’s flaunting her illegal work and lying about laws that she well knows. I am concerned about the two women with the weak lie. It’s not a good time to be pushing people’s buttons, and if you want to go out and spread Christianity, you’d better know a bit more about India.

 I probably shouldn’t be writing about them on my blog, but I don’t have a ton of sympathy for people who go to do missionary work in a country that does not welcome them. Go somewhere else, where the government wants you. You’re being disrespectful to the country in which you’re living. More importantly, you’re naïve to think that this isn’t illegal for a good reason. Sometimes Christians are killed for perceived conversions. I think that’s terrible. As I said before, India is a democracy and technically people should be able to become Christians if they want to convert. But I do believe that outright conversions should be prevented in India. There’s too much religious tension here, it’s just unsafe for everyone involved. More importantly, if people are going to preach Christianity to Indians, they should themselves be Indian. The Gospel is too complex to be explained through translators and poor Hindi. I think if people choose Christianity, they should understand the religion fully. It takes a complete linguistic and cultural understanding to do this.

I don’t know why I’m okay with convincing people to get microloans, but not with them being convinced to convert. Nick, Alison and I talked about it for awhile, but never could decide why we dislike missionaries so much. To me religion is personal. I don’t like it when people try to challenge my Buddhist faith, and I’ve only been a Buddhist for four years. I imagine that I would be very offended if people questioned a faith that was a part of my familial and cultural identity. I have a lot of Christian friends, some of whom have converted. But they converted out of their own choice and for personal reasons. With the gap between Indian and foreigner, it is difficult for me to imagine that these foreign missionary conversions can be personal.

I myself have had to struggle with the fact that some people respect me here because I am white and because I have more money than they do. If I were to preach Buddhism, I would be exploiting how people perceive me to spread my faith. Missionaries also have more money and are a different race than those to whom they are preaching. It is an abuse of residual colonial feelings about ethnicity to use your race to persuade people to convert. Whether or not missionaries realize that they are doing this here, it is what they are doing.

Himalaya Photos!

Here is my album from my time in Joshimath! https://picasaweb.google.com/101737615291512796999/JoshimathManaBadrinathAndMore#

I just got back from celebrating Diwali with my friends up in Mussoorie. It was a much needed break and I'll write more about Diwali and post pictures tomorrow. Right now, I need to get more tickets booked for my interviews back home!

Enjoy,
Erica

Sorry for the delay!

Hey! I'm sorry for the long delay between posts, here is an update!

It has been a whirlwind adventure for sure. On the 17^th, I became violently ill. Have you seen “Bridesmaids?” It was like that…but for longer. Fortunately, it seems that my body was playing fast and furious with whatever bug was in me, because 24 hours later I was fine. Dehydrated and exhausted, but fine. About 18 hours into my terrible aliment, my internet stopped working. When I was healthy enough to call customer supported, I found out that someone still hadn’t sent in my documents. I would try to keep Sameer from ever selling Tata products again, expect that I really do not have the time to try to figure out how to register a complaint in India. I asked over the phone and this is how it went:

Me: Sir, the retailer who sold me this did not send in my documents. He told me that he did twice and then he never did. This also happened to my friend. How can I register a complaint?

Customer Service Rep: No madam, you need to resubmit your documents.

Me: I know, I want to file a complaint.

Customer Service: Where is your home, madam?

Me: America

Customer Service: Pleased to meet you.

Me: How can I file a complaint?

Customer Service: Just go to any Tata dealer and resubmit your documents.

It could have well been a language barrier. But I also think that registering complaints would not translate even if I said it in Hindi. Nevertheless, it is probably for the best that I’ve been without internet so that I can’t search the CDC web site for what I had.

The next day, my adviser came into Joshimath with a group of students from forest departments over the country. I was sitting in the Joshimath Hospital when he called. I told him that I was just getting blood work done and he came down to basically stare down the pathologist and repeat, “Report normal hai?” Yes, everything was normal. Although, I am a little concerned that the pathologist changed the results out of fear.

I declined to join the group that particular day, but the next two days I rode around the Nanda Devi Biosphere Reserve with them. It is a pretty intense place, bordering Tibet and filled with a lot of wildlife that could kill me—leopards, snow leopards, black bears, and Tibetan wolves. Fortunately, it being a reserve there is enough natural prey that these apex predators don’t mess with humans. The first day we went to Badrinath, which is a very important Vishnu Temple. I honestly am not a huge fan of holy sites. They tend to be very crowded and dirty. This place as a bit better, because of the high altitude and the dry climate, but it was still pretty crowded. The scariest people in there were the tiny, ancient-looking, Garhwali women who really wanted to get to the priest to bless their food. I would not fight one of them, which was evidenced when I left them temple rather than stay inside.

We then moved onto the so-called “Last Indian Village,” which is much less dramatic than it sounds. Mana is the last Indian village before the Tibetan border. I find it funny that the Indian government still refers to it as the Tibetan border when geography is discussed, but it is China when military matters are discussed. There are huge Indian barracks around Mana. I don’t think that the Nanda Devi Biosphere Reserve is going to be the way that China would try to take India down. I would guess, although I am unsure, that a large part of what the Indian army does there is to try to get Tibetans through the border safely. There are very large Tibetan communities in Uttarakhand and other neighboring states. From what I have seen, India seems to welcome all Tibetans, but do little else with regards to it’s policy with China.

Mana was very beautiful. The Saraswati river is there, but is always good for a student to encounter. It also begins to look like the Tibetan plateau, although to actually get there we would have needed to get too close to the border. The econological significance of Badrinath and Mana are that they are both areas where snow leopards have been found as well as other high altitude species.

I was exhausted after the day out, especially after having been sick. It was also hard listening to so much Hindi while I was tired and in a new place, but I guess that is what I signed up for. When I got back home, I began to get heavily into the DVD collection that my mother sent me. Jeeves and Wooster as perfect escapism. Why can’t I have a valet in India? Maybe then I wouldn’t wonder why my room smells and then realize that it’s because I haven’t bathed in the past several days. Of course, I’d like to bathe. But it’s hard to do when you’re sick and there’s only cold-water bucket baths available. I did manage to bathe since.

The next day we went to Reni, Lata and got to the trans-Himalayas, which are the mountains right before the Tibetan Plateau. The air is very dry and the vegetation is much more sparse. Most people up there migrate down to the Greater Himalayas during the winter, because it gets so cold up in the trans-Himalayas. It is very much like a cold desert and is actually beautiful, although I don’t think it would be a very nice place to live all of the time. Most of the people up in that area are Bhotias—an Indian tribe that emigrated from Tibet hundreds of years ago. They used to be the traders between Tibet and India before the border closed in 1962, now they have a lot of sheep and trade wool.

That day was particularly exhausting, it was hours in a car over very bad roads. But it gave me a lot of new villages to look into for field sites. Dr. Uniyal introduced me to a homestay that Shazia used when she went up to Lata for her field work. It is a doable drive from Joshimath, but it would be easier to stay overnight if I’m doing interviews there. The terrain is a bit tougher there and most villages are off the motor head, so it will take a lot of energy to do my interviews. But it is a beautiful area, it is where the Chipko movement started. This was a grassroots, women-led movement to save the trees in the area from being cut down. There are tons of pine and cedar forests around the area and it is very close to Nanda Devi. The Nanda Devi Temple is in Lata, which hikers have to pray in before going into the “inner sanctuary,” which is the area around Nanda Devi. I watched a video of researchers hiking in the inner sanctuary, and it did look very beautiful and very dangerous. I will not be going there.

The weather has been amazing, it has actually felt like fall and most days are completely cloudless, with the exception of a few clouds around the mountains. But all Indians are very concerned about me being in the cold. If I know someone well, then I explain Minnesota and they back off. What really bothers me is when local start telling me about America, and that Joshimath is much colder than America. When I explained that America is cold too, one man responded, “Maybe Alaska.” You would die in Alaska, buddy. You would die. You’re not as hardcore as you think you are. So for me the weather is perfect, but even Garhwalis seem a bit bitter about it.

Since then I have returned to Dehradun. I picked up a fellow Fulbright rsearcher from the airport named Alison. She and I are going to be living together, but we’ll both be doing fieldwork elsewhere, so it will be a good home base. I also have been running errands and trying to get my life together after being out in the field. Internet again is an issue, but I have since resubmitted my papers to someone other than Sameer, so I’m hoping that problem will get fixed.

Dehradun is a lot cooler and more pleasant than earlier this month. Of course that means that Jannat is freaking out about the cold. Dr. Rawat, the owner of the house, and his wife are back for Diwali and very nice people. They’re helping Alison and I to get our floor of the house a bit more habitable. We’re pretty much without furniture right now.

I’ll post pictures soon. The Wildlife Institute has better internet than I have, so I’ll upload pictures there.

Also, new phone number!

I also got a new phone number, because my old numbers did not work very well up here. The number is--

+91 865-063-5370.

You can try calling me through Skype or Google Voice. Peter has used both, and I believe that Google Voice is a bit cheaper. There is a +9.5 hour time difference between here and the East Coast. Hopefully, I can talk to some of you all soon!

Research has begun!

Hello!

The past week has been pretty busy, because I have finally been able to start my research. Fortunately, women are pretty fine with answering the questionnaire. Unfortunately, women up here work so hard that it has been very difficult to track them down and get them to answer the questions. Sarita, my interpreter, is very helpful and very supportive. She has however, had a lot of family commitments, which has limited our ability to do field work. She is pretty passionate about the study though. She explained to me that she is one of the few women in her community who went to a hospital to deliver, and she ended up needing a c-section. Three years later, she still has abdominal pain where her incision was. She told me that it was a bad hospital and a bad doctor, but Dehradun would have been too far to go to for a decent hospital. Aunty--my landlady--delivered both of her children in Dehradun, but she has family around Dehradun. Aunty is also wealthier and has a higher level of education than Sarita does. Sarita is not poor or uneducated by any means, which indicates how difficult it truly is to get to a well-run hospital in this area.

The most striking thing about Garhwal in comparison to Mewar--the part of rural Rajasthan that I lived in--is the presence of women in the home and economic life of the villages. Rajasthan has a very strong tradition of purdah or veiling. Women would even cover their faces in front of me sometimes. Here, purdah has never been popular. Aunty's daughter, Monica, told me that purdah was "nonsense" and that in Garhwal women only cover the back of their heads with their scarf when showing respect to an elder man or woman. I also see women working in almost every area here. Women work the fields, they have government jobs, and they are teachers.

The biggest health problem that I can see so far is that women are too busy working to take care of themselves. Sarita's aunt is a dai, or traditional midwife. I asked her to explain the birth and postpartum process here. She told me that women have seven days after delivery to rest and then start working the fields again. I was shocked to hear this, because it is a far shorter postpartum rest time than what similar studies have reported in other parts of India. This rest time however, is close to what studies in Nepal have reported. Rural Nepali women have a very high rate of uterine prolapse, which some researchers believe is due to the very short recovery time after delivery. I have not been able to find any research on uterine prolapse in Garhwal, but I am interested in finding out what the local term for it is, so that I can begin asking about it.

The mountains here are gorgeous and my research takes me to beautiful places, however I am always reminded of what a burden the geography is on the shoulders of the women with whom I work. Even Sarita has to work the fields, and she has a separate job as a forest guard. Men do work here as well, but it is undoubtably the women who do most of the manual labor. This is partly due to the fact that Garhwali men have traditionally comprised a huge percentage of the armed forces in India. Therefore, there is a so-called "geography of missing men" here that requires women to do a lot of work. I have also noticed that while women collect crops, men sell them. This is a less physically demanding job and it gives them more economic freedom than their wives have. Nevertheless, women are certainly more liberated here than in Rajasthan. While my point-of-view as an America is that women should have the same opportunities as men, I am gratified that I spent time in Rajasthan, so that I can appreciate how vocal and free-moving many of the women are in Garhwal.

I certainly not upset that I choose this area for research or that I'm working with women. But right now is is very tough to work with women who give so much for their families and get back comparatively little. I will say though, that women laugh a lot more here than they did in Rajasthan. They are also very quick to tell me a lot of information about their health, from early infant deaths, to vaginal discharge, to urinary incontinence. Sarita is great and does not get embarrassed at these conversations. She just keeps saying, "Cute project. Good project." Cute is one of the only affirmative English words that she knows, so she is basically saying that she thinks the work is important and doesn't mind having these conversations to get the data. I could not imagine carrying out this work as a foreigner in Rajasthan and I certainly don't think that I would have found a field assistant who is as positive as Sarita is.

As I am here, I get continuously more frustrated with the abortion debates back in the United States. I got particularly irked with a bill passed through Congress that gives hospitals the right to refuse to perform a medically necessary abortion. For example, a woman could be miscarrying and bleeding heavily, but if she goes to a hospital that does not want to perform any abortions, they can refuse treatment. It would essentially give hospitals the right to put a fetus, which will probably die soon anyway, above the mother's life. It is a bill that probably won't make it through the Senate. But it is so incredibly short-sighted, because if a mother dies than the child that she is pregnant with will die as well. So what is the point in refusing to treat her medical condition? Such debates frustrate me, because women here don't even get the luxury of going to a hospital when they are miscarrying. We have so many facilities in the United States, but we get so locked down with ideology that we forget to just take advantage of the well-developed health system that we have. I cannot imagine Garhwal ever having as nice a health system as even poorly-served areas in the United States. I makes me wonder how we mess things up so much in our health system when we're already ahead of so much of the world.

Tickets bought to come back home!

Hello all!

I just bought my tickets to return home for med school interviews! I'm getting into Newark at 12:40 PM on Friday, November 11th and I'm returning (sigh) to India on Monday, December 12th. They were relatively cheap--although relative is still pretty expensive when you're flying from India.

I still haven't found a translator in Joshimath yet. I think that I might have to work with a man. I don't dislike men, of course, but it would be better to do women's health research with just women around. Oh well, I guess I'm up here because women do not have many services or opportunities, so I shouldn't be surprised that I can't find a woman who speaks some English up here. The women who do speak English, generally leave this area and go get work in Dehradun or Delhi.

I really love the family that I am staying with, they are such amazing people. Garhwal is totally different from Rajasthan. The women here are much more open, almost to a fault! When I was talking with some local women, one of the asked me if I smoke "bang," which is Hindi slang for marijuana. I told her that I didn't, but I was so shocked at her question that I asked her if she does. She claims that she doesn't, but I really doubt that, because why else would she have asked? Her next question was if I drink chai, and then invited me into her home for chai. So, I'm guess that's where the bang conversation was going to go if I had responded positively.

Also, the mountains are beautiful! I know that I'm not even around the most beautiful mountains. I'm looking into doing a trek at some point. I wish that I had know that I would just be sitting around here or else I would've planned one out when I first got here. But it took me a long time to adjust to being up here, so it is probably better for me to do it as a break from research. It is nice to know that I will be up here for so long, because it allows me to stay relaxed and allow myself to get used to the town rather than wearing myself out.

I am definitely happy that I choose this area to do my research in, because it is both visually stunning and socially relaxed. I am having a much better time now than I did when I was living in Rajasthan. Now, I wish that I could just find a translator!

Hopefully, I'll get a good enough internet connect to download some pictures soon!

Erica

In the mountains

Hey all!

This is a quick message that I am in the mountains and that I am safe. I am staying with a very nice family, but I have my own room and everything. I have to go now, because the young girl who I am living with is standing next to me and passively trying to get me off of the roof where I have good internet.

Good night!

Erica

Bilingual Survey Complete

I don't care if I really should be doing open-ended interviews first! I don't care if my survey is based only on what other people have seen up in the hills! All I care about is as long as I find someone who reads Hindi, I'll have a translator who can help with my research!


Originally, my plan was to do focus groups or long, open-ended interviews before writing a closen-ended questionnaire. But my Hindi is not good enough to do that alone, and I don't know if I can find a female translator up in the hills who also speaks English. No one at the Institute has been able to find someone for me. So, I wrote this close-ended questionnaire, so that I could at least get some information. If I do find a woman who speaks English, then I will follow through with my original plan. But for now, I at least have this beautiful survey, which is in both English and Hindi!

I couldn't have done it without Dr. Uniyal and a very sweet PhD student, who did the translating. Although, he got very shy about some of the female problems that he had to translate...poor guy. I have uploaded one page, so that you can all see what it looks like. I'll try uploading the whole thing when I have a little more time. Right now, I have to make some copies of this thing!

Internet Saga...complete for now

Now two of my numerous inernet devices are fixed! So I have a decent chance of being able to talk to people when I'm up in the Hills!!! It feels good to not worry if I won't talk to Peter or my parents for two weeks. I know that hard core people go for longer, but although I am hard core enough to threaten a defenseless telecommunications salesman, I am not hard core enough to go without my support network for that long.

Now I can just focus on not throwing up during my eight-hour-long drive to Joshimath tomorrow. I'll make sure to take lots of pictures. Even if my survey doesnt' work and/or I can't find a translator, I'll be able to go hiking and visit some of the holiest places in both the Hindu and Sikh faiths!

Sameer versus Sagar: The Internet Saga

As any of you who have traveled to India might know, there are these USB drives that can hook your computer up to the internet. They are actually more common than WiFi. The companies however, know that they are providing a relatively new service that pays out big for them. In fact, that's probably why these same companies make it difficult to access WiFi. So I now have three of these things, which are not cheap, because each one keeps having some service or connection problem. Most sane people would have just gone without internet for awhile, but given that I'm in a long-distance relationship AND I'm applying to medical school, I am not sane. Not this year anyway. I have one that can have any SIM card in it, which is good for traveling. I have a Reliance Netconnect and a Tata Docomo. The Docomo I just use for skype, because it is 3G and can actually support skype, although it is pretty expensive, so I try not to use too much data on it. As of yesterday, both my Reliance Netconnect and my Tata Docomo stopped working. Have I mentioned that I'm going to the field tomorrow? Needless to say, I was upset. I went to Sameer's Telecommunications, which sold me the Tata Docomo and Sagar's, which sold me the Netconnect. Both told me that it would be fixed by the evening. As of 10:30 AM they were still not working. Here are the events that transpired.
--Sameer's--
Erica: I came here yesterday and Amir told me that my papers never got delivered.

Sameer: No, they are having the papers.

Erica: You weren't even here. They don't have the papers. Amir called and asked them to pick them up.

Sameer: Yes, the boy is coming... (I at this point assume that Sameer does not have telepathy, and therefore cannot suddenly realize that both the paperwork is not where it should be and the boy is running to go get them.)

Erica: I am leaving for Joshimath tomorrow. This needs to get fixed.

Sameer: (blank fish-like stare) Joshimath tomorrow... (goes over to computer and begins fiddling with my USB drive...begins calling company, but says nothing as he tends to five other--MALE--costumers.)

Erica: (after waiting seated for five minutes, walks up to counter and beings staring at Sameer.)

Sameer: (wondering if girl with significantly higher percentage of muscle mass might kill him): Are you going to Wildlife Institute?

Erica: No, I am staying here until it gets fixed.

Sameer: (making no attempt to actually fix anything): Please be seated

Erica: No. I want to watch you fix it.

Sameer: Actually, it will not be fixed for sometime.

Erica: How is that possible? Amir told me that it would be fixed yesterday.

Sameer: It did not happen, because I was not here.

Erica: (Finding it hard to believe that anything would get started because of Sameer) Amir talked to the guy who was supposed to pick it up. He just didn't do it. You need to talk to him now.

Sameer: It will work in sometime.

Erica: When?

Sameer: 11:30

Erica: If it is not fixed by then, then I am never recharging here again.

Sameer: (blank fish-like stare) Okay

Erica: I will be back at 11:30. It should be fixed.

Sameer: (now completely dissociated): Okay

--Conversation about netconnect at Sagar's---

Erica: I have bad news.

Sagar: It's still not working?

Erica: Yes

Sagar: Let me call the main office. (calls main office) They are not picking up. If you do some work at the Institute and come back, I can tell you what they say. Leave your USB number here, so that I can give it to them.

Erica: Okay, thank you.

--End scene--

So, you see it's not the waiting that gets to me. It is the fact that costumers here only have to buy something once and then most vendors never care if the product actually works. Sameer also is consistently rude to me, while Amir is consistently really nice. However, there seems to be little pattern to when they are working. If I could just work with Amir, then I would probably be fine. But Sameer just stares at me and lies. And then I call him out on it and he immediately changes his story to only lie again. I don't like being a mean person, but I feel that aggressive behavior is the only way that people, wait, sorry, no WOMEN get anything done here. I recently read an article about power women in Delhi and Mumbai. They all said that they had to "roar" if they were ever going to be respected, while their male colleagues just had to go out for a drink with the boss. It is very strange to alter your personality just to be treated as an equal.

Even more pictures

I added more pictures to my Mussoorie album. I am going to Joshimath on Saturday, so soon I'll have pictures of the really big mountains!

https://picasaweb.google.com/101737615291512796999/MussoorieForTheWeekend

This is why I want to do this research...

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/27/health/27cancer.html?_r=1&hp

This doesn't take place in India, but it embraces the utilitarian view of global health care that I think is often lacking in Indian public health. I hope to get an idea of how health care can be practically carried out during my time up in the mountains! Although, I don't think I'll be brushing any lady parts with vinegar. (Read the article if you don't get the reference.)

Also, the college dorm experience doesn't translate here...

I attempted to keep a loaf of bread in the house now that the monsoons are over. Well, it turned into a rather fascinating microbiology experiment while I was in Mussoorie. It is still just damp enough that it didn't take long for mold to spread over the entire thing. I put it on the counter to remind myself to take it out and throw it to a group of piglets that are near my house. (Pigs can eat mold, right?) Jannat came in to give me a peace offering of Assamese-style fish. He saw the bread and basically told me, "I told you that food goes bad in India!" It goes bad in America too, Jannat, we just don't have a ton of purity taboos. He began freaking out again, but then seemed pulled back to his house by the fish that he still had to eat.

I should mention that I'm pretty sure that I saw the fish that they cooked being put out into the hot, Dehradun sun this morning when I went to the Institute around 8:00 AM. They just bought it now at 7:00 PM.

Moldy bread waiting to be thrown out is less dangerous than fish that has been transported to a land-locked city, left in the heat all day, and then consumed. Just sayin'.

The good part about going to Mussoorie this weekend

So I did go up to Mussoorie before all of this drama started. And I took a lot of pictures. I figured to post pictures in album form, I would try using a picasa album. So here is the link

  https://picasaweb.google.com/101737615291512796999/MussoorieAndASikhFestival

I went up for Nick's birthday, and the next day was a Sikh festival complete with mock fighting. It was a lot of fun to watch in the crowd--and I wasn't groped once!

In case any of you are concerned, I spoke with Jannat and Didi today. I also have been e-mailing with the landlord to see if I maybe missed a house rule. The landlord, who is in Nepal, said that Didi and Jannat actually don't speak much Hindi themselves. They speak Assamese mixed with Urdu. So, it is understandable that fights might happen with all these language barriers. Apparently, Didi spoke almost no Hindi when she came to Dehradun three months ago.

Given this information, I talked to Jannat and Didi and it seems that they had gotten a call from my adviser asking where I had gone, because he couldn't reach my cell phone. Jannat told him that I had gone to Landour for a friend's birthday. Obviously, Dr. Uniyal was fine with this. He saw me yesterday and today and was completely himself. But I think getting a call from an authority figure who doesn't speak your language was really stressful for Jannat. He told me today that --

"Uniyal sir pucche "Erica kaha hai?" (Dr. Uniyal asked, where is Erica?)

"Mussoorie gaye'" (She was to Mussoorie.)

"Uniyal sir puchhe 'Koi?'" (Dr. Uniyal asked why?)

"Apka dostka 'happy new.'" ( her friend's birthday...? This is where I start getting it that Hindi is not Jannat's first language.)

I would continue translating, but I really can't remember exactly what was said. Basically, I did not tell Dr. Uniyal that I was going to Mussoorie. He tried calling me and couldn't get through. I can only assume that he wanted to make sure that I wasn't being eaten by monkeys and called Jannat. Probably Jannat doesn't have a ton of liberties with his job, and thought that either he or I had done something wrong when I left. So, he was pretty stressed out when he got back.

Jannat is the oldest brother in his family and he sends half of his money home for his little brothers and sisters. He also just got married. I can only assume that he's clinging to his job for dear life, which I completely respect. He just kind of lost it last night. But we seem okay now, and Dr. Rawat--who I am renting the house from--said that he will explain more to Jannat when he comes back from Nepal for Diwali. That will hopefully keep Jannat from thinking that he will have to go back to West Bengal or that I will have to go back to America if I go to Mussoorie again without telling anyone.

First fight with India

Well, I just got into my first disagreement with Jannat (the caretaker) and Didi. They told me that I shouldn't go to Mussoorie ever or to the bazar at nighttime. I told them that I am American, but they still told me that I shouldn't do it.

I've already been pushed pretty far with the limitations on my independence here. So I realized that I didn't have the energy or the Hindi to explain to them that I used to live in West Philly and that when I was in Jaipur, I did actually deal with sketchy guys. I do not have to deal with those kind of creeps here. As for shopping at night. I went once to the bazar and came back at 9:00 PM. I took a rickshaw to make sure that I didn't walk anywhere dark alone. I only walked alone in the busy bazar--and I did see women there at night. Lots of women. As for Mussoorie, I went there this weekend for a friend's birthday. I stayed with friends and I was normally in the company of friends.

I know that all this seems very scary to many Indians. But it is much safer than I lives that I lived in West Philadelphia, and Jaipur for that matter.

So, I did the only thing that I thought they could understand. I said "no" and I walked away. It wasn't a culturally sensitive thing to do and it may have fractured the relationships that I have with them. But at the same time, I feel like I have to maintain the fact that I am an outsider here. If I become like a the Indian woman that they expect me to be, then I loose the independence that I wanted to exert through coming here. I made a conscience choice to not stay at my job at the University of Pennsylvania or to look for a new job at Michigan. I made a choice to explore and to push myself. I won't sacrifice the comforts of my home and my loved ones, so that I can stay in a bungalow in Dehradun and never go anywhere.

I know that Jannat and Didi don't actually have any power over my actions. I know that the better thing would have been to just nod my head and then keep going anyways. But I am not part of this world. I have my own ideals and ways of living my life, which I get tired of defending. I also fully understand that they are trying to look out for me and trying to be my family here. They however, don't even speak the same language that I do. So, how can they possibly understand how much I have had to be independent in America?

Most women of Didi's socio-economic background either work all day or stay in the home all day. They do not go out just to walk around the bazar and they do not just go to another town to visit friends. I hoped that they would see that as a student, I have a different background and different attitudes. But to them the dangers of being a woman are much more real here than they are to me.

I am beginning to wish that I had stayed in Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore or another major city. While it would have been more chaotic, I would have more independence than what I have here. I feel like my every move is being watched. I am pretty much the only person who thinks and feels the way that I do in this community, which I wouldn't be if I were in an urban center.

Finally, and most importantly, I get tired of the cultural double-standard. I know that I am a guest in India , and I generally try to be very culturally sensitive. But I do not feel like people make any effort to actually understand who I am as an American. I suppose that a lot of immigrants and visitors to America feel this way as well. And it sucks. It is tough feeling like you give up a lot of how you were raised and it still isn't enough.

I don't feel great about the way that I handled the situation. But I am tired out and feeling cagey just by being back in Dehradun. It was so nice to be able to go out with friends in Mussoorie. I hope that I haven't completely damaged the relationships that I built up with Jannat and Didi. But I'm also glad that I didn't lie to them about who I am. I do want them to like me, but I want them to like me for who I am rather than who I am pretending to be while I am here.

Lobe marriage

Didi: Apka husband ke sath phone karti hai? (Are you talking on the phone with your husband?

Erica: (trying to find a cultural grey area to explain long-term boyfriend) Fiance?

Didi: Kya? Husband?

Erica: (trying to remember future tense): Hum shaadi hoge (should have been "hoga." I was trying to say "We will be married," which is a lie, but I figured my Hindi wasn't up for explaining "committed relationship.")

Didi: (looks understandably confused)

Erica: (Points to fake engagement ring to ward off potential creepsters) Fiance.

Didi: Kitne sal? (how many years?)

Erica: (thinking she means when will you get married) Char (4)

Didi: Ohhhhhhhhhhhh (giggles for about five minutes.) Lobe?

Erica: Lobe (trying to remember what "lobe" is in Hindi. Is it a verb or adjective?)

Didi: (Hand over heart) Lobe marriage?

Erica: (realizing this is the closest that she's going to get to "committed relationship") Haa. (yes)

Didi: Ohhhhh (giggles for about ten minutes) aur mai ("Me too" she looks very proud.)

So there you have it, "lobe marriage" is something that Didi and I have in common now. Kinda, anyways. She's four years younger than I am, so it's probably a good thing that she thinks that I've been married for four years. After this conversation she gave me metha paan or sweet paan, which is disgusting, but I felt like I gained a moment with our cultural-barrier-breaking conversation, so I was afraid to say no. Paan tastes as bad as it smells. She tells me that she loves it and that her husband really loves it. Even this explanation makes her look giddy.

Oh, to be twenty and smitten over paan again...

Pictures, because Peter sent me my camera

Outdoor Hallway at the Wildlife Institute 

Building at the Wildlife Institute 

Tree at WII

View outside my window

Going down the stairs from the roof

The terrace

Spices and tea

What passes for Euro-American style cheese

The Great Stupa at Clement Town

Buddha Statue at Clement Town

Okay, so these aren't my pictures...

The Hindu, which is one of the big newspapers here just ran a photo-journalism piece on where I'll be:

http://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/travel/article2470426.ece

I hope that this inspires anyone on the fence about it to go ahead and visit me!

"If I am in the interior, no one helps me."

This is one professor's point-of-view of women's health in rural Uttarakhand. I had several research meetings today AND I got a book in the mail on women's health in Garhwal. So I'm getting ready to really sink into my survey. The depressing part is that everyone seems pretty sure that there is either none or very poor health care where I am going. I also found out that it might be difficult for me to get up there for the next couple of weeks, because a lot of roads were destroyed in the monsoons this year. Looks like I'll have a very thorough survey by the time that I leave.

I am back in Dehradun. This past week was my last week of classes. They were great, but it's good to be doing research again. Also, my camera is here! So I'll post new pictures soon. I'm about to go out to the bazar to try to get some bedding and food supplies, but I did want to post that I finally have relatively reliable internet. SO if anyone wants to try to skype, my skype username is erica.face

Post more soon!

Bundar kharaab hain.

Macaques are monkeys that are slowly turning into people and are becoming increasingly greedy and deceptive as they evolve. If any of you have been in India, the monkeys that will attack you are macaques. They have shorter tails and pointier faces than most monkeys. They also want whatever people have. That could be your food, your clothes that are hanging out to dry, or your wallet.  One can tell that they are evil by their red faces and intense, beady eyes.

Nick—one of the student researchers who is also taking Hindi here—saw Planet of the Apes: Rise of the Apes before coming to Landour. He is convinced that the macaques need to be put in their place or else monkeys are going to take over.

Victoria and I thought this was a pretty ridiculous story, until disaster struck. I was in the apartment while Victoria was on the roof—roofs are flat here—writing in her journal. All of a sudden the monkeys who had been near the roof starting baring their teeth and screeching at her. As she tried to get to the stairs back down to the apartment, one reached out and tried grabbing her. He did catch her clothes, but she wasn’t bitten or scratched.

After she told us what had happened, we realized that we needed to go get her book bag, which was still up on the roof. We armed ourselves with a mop, a long-handled umbrella, a broom, and a towel—the towel was my suggestion, to make one look bigger. When the monkeys saw us, they did run away. But we found that they had gone through all of Victoria’s things and had ripped the book cover off of her Hindi book. There were also bite marks on her book cover and notebook. Fortunately, her e-reader remained unbitten. I still believe that the monkeys thirst for knowledge and that is why they tried to apprehend Victoria’s books.

At the end of the day, it is very much monkeys versus humans here. When we told the story to one of the Hindi professors he said: “Oh, monkeys are like this. The langurs are still timid now, but they will soon start acting this way.” We were all very shocked that he would be so complacent about the monkeys. In America we destroy the natural world. We don’t put up with living in it.

As a side note, langurs are about the size of an eight-year-old and would be much more dangerous if they actually began attacking people. Actually, langur populations are considered in decline partly because they are less aggressive than other monkeys. They are sacred in Hinduism, which I can understand when there are macaques around to make you look good.

The other day as Nick and I were walking to class, the landlord’s wife began talking to us in Hindi. She said something about bangur, which is monkey in Hindi. The most commonly used negative adjective that we know is kharaab, so Nick asked her if she meant that bangurs are kharaab (or bad.) She nodded, but looked like she meant something more serious. I think that she might have been saying, “Monkeys are little bastards” in Hindi, or something to that end.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macaque

This article does indicate that macaques are commonly used for medical testing. I’d like to note that even though I hate macaques, I don’t think they should be abused. I would however, suggest that only medications for personality disorders be tested on them. Look at this picture and you’ll see my point:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rhesus_Macaque_%28Macaca_mulatta%29_in_Kinnarsani_WS,_AP_W_IMG_5792.jpg

Then look at this and decide who you would decide is holy:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarai_gray_langur

I have heard that where I am doing my fieldwork there are no macaques, only langurs, which is a relief.