I Knew Minnesota Winters Would Pay Off

 So I’ve been out of communication for a while; but be assured that I’m okay. I was in Joshimath from December 7^th through the 19^th. They were only twelve days, but they were really days that were very trying and informative. I don’t mean that I actually was able to do a ton of research, but rather that I got a very different perspective of Joshimath and the mountains.

I cam to Joshimath while Sarita, my interpreter, was still in Dehradun recovering from surgery. So, I knew that I was coming in without an interpreter. At first, I really didn’t feel that this would be that big of a problem, because I felt more comfortable with the area and my language skills. I did not however, know how bad the weather would be when I got settled into Joshimath.

The day after I got back it began to snow. It really wasn’t much snow by Northeast standards, but it was enough to cut off power for two days. In India two days without electricity means that there is no heat for two days. Normally, this is not an issue, but it definitely very difficult and a little scary up in the mountains. Also, there was more snow at higher elevations and that meant that I would have difficulties traveling there, which is exactly where I needed to go for my research.

At the time, I did not check to see what the actual temperature was. But I now have investigated the situation and it was about 20 degrees Farenheit at the highest and around 7 degrees during the night. I kept telling myself that it was exactly at freezing; I don’t know how I tricked myself into thinking that. It was part of my huge push to keep myself warm without heat during this weather. I put on under armor, fleece pants, smartwool socks under fleece socks, three sweaters, a fleece and a down vest. Oh, and a hat and gloves as well. I tried spending a lot of time in the sun and walking during the daytime. At night it was very difficult to stay warm. I roasted potatoes and put them in my pockets and over my socks to try to keep my hands and feet warm. They were fairly successful.

The family that I stayed with seemed relatively unperturbed with the change of events. While they complained about it, they were not as anxious as I was. They also didn’t bundle up nearly as much as I did. Aunty was still wearing sandals without socks even in the weather. They would always comment on how cold it was and I know that they can afford more clothing, so I’m not sure what their dressing logic was. They must have superior cold genetics to me. That or their nerves have all been permanently damaged from an early childhood spent in these conditions.

I did try going to the field once during this time, but it was largely a bust, as I knew it would be. My heart really wasn’t into the research and it was my first time going into the field by myself. So, I felt much more nervous about talking to people than I normally would have been. I went down the mountain to where there was no snow. I had already been in this area and people are very nice and friendly. I was surprised how well I was able to communicate in Hindi, but I didn’t really do my research to the best of my abilities. I was pretty worn out.

The next day, I decided that I should at least try to find another interpreter. I walked down to the Government Hospital, hoping that one of the female doctors might know of a health-conscience woman in the community. There is one female doctor who I like a lot at the Joshimath Hospital. I met with her when I initially began my research. She runs the free women’s clinic and was encouraged me to ask about different symptoms than what I had initially written in my survey. This was not the same doctor. Instead, it was the other female doctor, who I believe probably was placed at Joshimath because she could not get another job. I’d met her previously and I had thought that she was cold and uninterested in patients. Now I know that she is disinterested in everyone.

I first entered the hospital and explained (in Hindi) that I wanted to talk to the “lady doctor” about my research. An Asha (community health worker) took me to the doctor’s room and I explained my work to her (in Hindi.) Then I explained to the doctor that I needed a new assistant for my research (in Hindi.) She then told me that it was impossible because none of the local women speak English and I wouldn’t be able to understand them and they wouldn’t be able to understand me. At first I was taken aback, because I had just spoken to her in Hindi. I tried to explain that my survey is bilingual, so that I really just need someone to translate from Hindi to Garhwali. Once again, she gave me the same explanation. I interrupted her during her second speech, which sounded like something out of an Indian Tennessee Williams’ play, and explained about how well things had worked out with Sarita. She then said, “Oh, I can’t tell any of them what to do or else they will rise against me.” The Asha that I had met did seem very threatening, what with her friendly manners and interest in my work. Therefore, I assured the doctor that I did not want someone from the hospital, but just someone from the community. Then she launched into another speech about how she just goes from the hospital to her room, so she doesn’t know the community. Before she could begin complaining about the weather, I left.

As I walked away from this conversation, it began snowing very hard and I had a 30-minute walk back up the mountain. I was trying not to cry, because I was very frustrated. After reflecting on why I was so upset, I realized that I felt like I was the enemy of this doctor, when really we should be on the same team. I have no idea why she wanted to shoot me down, when she of all people should encourage my research. It’s hard for me to blame women who do not go to the hospital when some of the doctors are so unreceptive. There’s no suing or exposing a negligent doctor in rural India. So, a physcian can be unhelpful or uncaring and there will never be any repercussions.

That day it did not snow as much and we were able to keep electricity. The next few days were a blur of trying to get up to higher elevations. I did manage to get up to Lata, which is where the picture of me and all the rural women was taken. I did a group interview with them about medicinal plants, which was pretty helpful. The next day, I did about four interviews in the slightly lower town of Tapovan. I did not stay in Tapovan very long, because it started raining, which I knew would turn to snow. That night we got about seven inches of snow in Joshimath. I’m told that this amount falls only about ever 4 years. That might sound like nothing, but it completely shut down everything. The roads were terrible and I couldn’t move anywhere. Additionally, the electricity went out again. This time, I was better prepared for the cold and I felt that I handled it somewhat better. A big key is drinking a lot of warm drinks with calories in them. I managed to find some pretty bad hot cocoa in Joshimath, which was only 40 rupees. I tried mixing that with powdered milk and it was decent.

After waiting for about three days, I was able to leave Joshimath. For some reason, my landlord (Uncle) wanted to help me get the Jeep. I say “for some reason,” because he walks extremely fast even in the snow and it was very difficult to keep up with him while I had a huge hiking backpack on weighing me down. I took a Jeep from Joshimath to Chamoli and then from Chamoli to Karnapryag. Karnapryag is where Dr. Uniyal’s in-laws live and they were generous enough to let me stay in their house without paying.

I was able to do a significant amount of work in Karnapryag, because Dr. Uniyal’s niece assisted me. She was pretty helpful, but I have to say that it was probably one of my most stressful cultural experiences in India. I had taken for granted just how open-minded my landlords are in Joshimath. But then again, they lived with Shazia for about three years, and she is Muslim. There aren’t really Muslims in that part of the Himalayas. I didn’t feel that this family was culturally too different from what I’d experienced. But they were extremely trapped in their own version of reality. I realize that similar people are found across America as well. It’s not an Indian thing, so much as a rural thing.

They were convinced that I did not speak or understand Hindi. This was not the same experience as dealing with the female doctor in Joshimath. Clearly, she was searching for excuses not to help me. I think this was largely because they have never been around anyone learning a new language. So they very much struggled with the concept that I could understand some things, but not understand the entire language. They also mixed together Garhwali and Hindi a far bit, which confused me as well. I don’t think that the older relatives realized when they were speaking Garhwali and when they were speaking Hindi. Overall, it was a very tiring experience.

I know my Hindi isn’t great. But I get around relatively easily. I also communicate with my landlords in Joshimath on a regular basis. I felt that this immersion was very much confrontational. When I didn’t speak Hindi, I was criticized. When I did, I was laughed at. It was frustrating, but also educational. I found that confronting people who make fun of my language skills will make them feel uncomfortable, but not hostile. I think that criticism is just much more liberally given in India, which I can use to my advantage. It is also a salient fact that the person in this family who criticized me the most was the only person who could speak some English. His English was god-awful. I had so much material that I did not use. But if he insults me again, I’ll be sure to jump into a very fast-paced English conversation.

After two days in Karnapryag, I came back to Joshimath. I’ve been trying to give myself a lot of free time to relax. I have been eating a lot, taking hot baths, and spending too much time online. But I’m also leaving for a whirlwind tour of Punjab on Saturday, so I need as much rest as I can get.