Sunday, February 19, 2012

Train[ing]


It’s morning –eight a.m. My companion and I are groggy (seems to be a common occurrence…) and laden with bags that seem to have gained 50 lbs. overnight. We are in Kanpur, enroute to Lucknow, the capitol of Uttar Pradesh. I’m stiff from the previous nights train journey, and staring blankly into space. I am inexplicably calm when, at this point, I should be completely overwhelmed by my surroundings. There are hoards of people, and four times as many packages and luggage parcels filling the platform.  Every few minutes I am jostled by a person or bag and every few minutes one of many men (I presume soldiers or law enforcement of some kind) walks by carrying an enormous riffle. It also doesn’t smell like roses. The screech of an engine tells me a train will arrive, shortly before a blue engine rolls into view. It hasn’t stopped, and certainly hasn’t officially arrived, but after a few seconds the platform looks like one of those chaotic clips you see of the New York Stock Exchange the moment the bell rings. The cars are sliding across the tracks, breaking slightly at each passing second. People are running towards the train, holding onto the railings, jumping into moving door-frames and hanging on for dear life as the train continues to slow, eventually coming to a stop on the platform. In the second after its arrival, it seems like every last person on the platform has rushed the tracks, paying little attention to anything between them and the two feet of air granting entrance to a compartment.  Everyone is determined to be the first through the door. No time for napping. No time for second-guesses. No time for anything. It’s go time. This is when I start to get overwhelmed.

Lucky lucky for me I was one of the few not trying to board the train in question. Also lucky for me, my companion/chaperone mentioned this before I plunged myself into the madness and ended up who-knows-where. Even luckier for me, we had purchased reserved seat tickets and thus avoided the similar mad dash when our own ride arrived. Asssah! I am so lucky!

Now, my friends, we’ve come to the question of the hour? Why was I getting on this train in the first place? As I said, my companion (and co-worker) and I were on our way to Lucknow, about 10 hours East of Delhi. The occasion for the visit was a workshop organized by my NGO, about which I understand you know very little. To be honest I am still trying to sort everything out myself, and find myself filling the space between the lines slowly, one day at a time.  I am still working on the big picture, but I’ll try to answer question number two (What exactly are you doing???) and give you the best I’ve got so far…

The NGO for which I work (henceforth the foundation) was founded to promote equal rights for Dalit (formerly “untouchable”) individuals. In order to do so, the foundation provides small grants to individuals and organizations working on various Dalit issues at the grassroots level in local communities.  It also provides capacity building training in areas such as accounting and fundraising, and legal education and advising, to its partners. Additionally, the foundation provides training to young Dalit Activists through a young professionals program and supports and promotes Dalit Artists and their work. Through its grants and trainings the foundation hopes to empower and aid Dalit’s in their fight for equality.

Got it? No? Not quite sure why they are doing all of this? Not even sure what I mean what I say “Dalit??” Ok, a little history/religious studies lesson…*

India is a predominantly Hindu country and the religion not only helped shape its history, but also continues to permeate many aspects of society today. According to the Hindu tradition, (almost) all people are descendant of the “primal man” Purush and are divided into four castes, or levels, based on origin. The four major castes and their origins are as follows: Brahmins, the highest caste, are said to have come from the head of Purush. The Brahmins are followed by the Kshatriyas from the hands, Vaisyas from the thighs, and Sudras from the feet. These four groups are then divided further into more sub castes than I will ever be able to wrap my brain around. Historically, a person’s caste also dictates their occupation and subsequent place in society. For example, Brahmins are traditionally priests, while Kshatriyas are warriors, and Vaisyas are skilled traders and merchants. In addition to (or as a result of) this system and the occupational roles and social hierarchy it defines, a fourth group exist outside the traditional castes and occupations. This group, those designated as not originating from Purush and thus less worthy that the other groups, were forced into occupations too “impure” for those of the upper castes. These people, the Dalit’s, were then deemed to be “impure,” themselves based on their occupations, often involving animal slaughter, or the removal of animal and human waste or remains. This impurity was deemed so potent, that Dalit’s were forbidden to even drink from the same well or use the same utensils as a member of an upper caste, for fear that the impurity would be passed to the later. Dalits were literally cast to the lowest rungs of society with little means to make their way up the ladder. The caste system largely prevents any movement between castes, and inter-caste marriages were in many cases strictly prohibited.  A person is born into the caste of his or her parents, with the knowledge that his/her children will face the same fate.

To this point, I’ve been using the past tense when describing the plight of Dalit individuals and communities; but the reality is that, for many of India’s Dalit communities, the situation remains unchanged and equally bleak. The caste system is still rigidly enforced in many areas and has pushed beyond religious boundaries, imposing caste hierarchies on Christians, Muslims, Sikhs etc, as well as various tribal groups and minorities finding themselves outside the traditional system. The majority of Dalit’s, whom represent about 16.2 % of India’s 1,170,93800 people, continue to face various levels of caste discrimination in every aspect of life. This can involve segregation and prejudice in school and at the work place, being forced to into bonded labor to pay off enormous debts, having to take up demeaning and unhygienic professions like manual scavenging and, in many cases, finding themselves victim to rampant physical and sexual violence. 

Honestly, it’s a lot to take in and it’s all very intense and overwhelming. That being said, as much caste discrimination seems engrained in society and can seem like an insurmountable problem to solve, there are many dedicated people fighting to do just that. Even earlier, but more prominently since Gandhi preached equality among castes and promoted replacing the term “Untouchables” with “Harijans”, or “Children of G-d,” and Dr. B.R.  Ambedkar, the man considered by most to be the father of the Dalit Rights Movement, helped constitutionally ban the practice of untouchability, individuals and organizations across India have been working tirelessly to eradicate caste-based discrimination. In 1989, Parliament passed the Prevention of Atrocities Act protecting scheduled castes and tribes and in 1997 India elected its first Dalit President. Though these notable (but not all-inclusive) examples mark significant progress in the movement, the race is far from won. The finish line is nowhere in sight. For the millions of people living the realities of caste discrimination, and those still living with the outlawed stigma of untouchability, the fight for equality continues, one day at a time.

So, where does that leave me? It leaves me back in Delhi, having returned from the Lucknow workshop. Having spent 3 days listening to the stories and motivation of 30 Dalit activists, and learning about their past accomplishments, future goals, and work plans. Having met the Young Professionals and having visited one Foundation partner in the field, to observe her work in action (more to come). It leaves me having had many hours to think about the challenges that lie ahead and what my role in the effort will be. Like I said, it’s a lot to take in.

The fact of the matter is that this problem will not be solved in the next two and a half months. Those invested in the fight for equality will continue to fight for years to come with the knowledge that they are trying to pushing a wagon uphill. There will be moments of success and failure, and sometimes it may seem to take all the strength one has to keep the wheels from rolling backwards. All I can do, all I can expect, is to add my hands to the thousands of others on the back of that wagon, even if it seems I will be a mouse among lions.

And that’s where I am.
I am finding my way in India and finding my way at work and reminding myself that a year and a half ago I couldn’t even place my humble abode in Pyeongtaek on a map or figure out how to eat without launching a chopstick across the table, let alone understand anything that was going on in my life. In fact, in the last two weeks I have gained a better understanding of how the foundation works, than I ever had in regards to the inner workings of Banji. Now, if I could just find a place to buy some cheese….

One day.

I’m sorry if this post was confusing, and that I didn’t really get around to a direct answer to question number two. I’ll work on that, I promise. For the time being, I can’t pretend that I am not confused 90% of the time as well.  So, my friends, I ask that you stick around a bit longer. As I learn more about my work, more about India, and more about my place in this world, I’ll be sure to share a little bit with all of you. Maybe, eventually, we will all understand.

For now, I leave you with this little nugget of everyday life, so we can all remember that life is not all work and no play, and also that I really love food.  In my efforts to figure out what and where I am supposed to be eating and what will not, in fact, make my hate my life a few hours down the road, I have taking to snacking on Sev Puri a few afternoons a week.  I am not sure it passes the “no street food” line of advice I was given at orientation, but I’m working with what I’ve got.  It’s basically an amazingly delicious concoction, which I can best describe as a sweet, spicy, crunchy chips and salsa with a spoon type situation. It’s pretty rad, and if it were culturally appropriate I would probably eat a bucket full in each sitting… Super. Size. Please. Nomnomnomnomnom.

राम राम, 
Emily



 
*Please note that I am in no way an expert on either the Hindu religion or the history of the caste system and its implications. I am doing my best to learn as much as I can, as quickly as possible, in order to inform my volunteer work, but a girl can only absorb so much at one time.  What I’ve noted here as a summery of what I have learned so far. Should I find any mistakes or false assumptions in the future, or should anyone inform me of an error I've made, I will make every effort to correct the information presented.

Sources: Caste and Class: U.S. Library of Congress, Wikipedia/org/wiki/Dalit, www.ambedkar.org... I will try to do this more officially in the future.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Namaste, New Delhi.


 It’s a little after midnight in Delhi, about 1 pm back home. I’ve been traveling for the last twenty hours but, as far as I can tell, my brain is functioning at at least 80%. I’ve managed to retrieve my pack and remembered to withdraw some funds, and I’ve successfully (and miraculously) found my name on a crumpled 8x10 sheet of paper. I’d actually had to dig out my glasses to read the sign held aloft by one man in a sea of hundreds, all waiting for what seemed like an unreasonable amount of passengers arriving at the late/early hour. After assuring my welcoming committee was indeed from Hotel Payal (don’t do it, if you can help it…) I followed him to the car and attempted to stay awake for the ride into the city. This should have been easy-peasy, given the sheer number of cars on the road and the corresponding amount of horn honking and break slamming that ensued. I have never in my life witnessed that volume of 1 am traffic and, in my delirium (and to date), could not for the life of me figure out what everyone was doing on the road.  Alas, the wear of travel caught up with me. For about an hour, I faded in an out of consciousness, occasionally waking up to stare in amazement before slipping away again. On one such occasion I actually shook myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming because, in the midst of the cars and trucks and honking and chaos, I saw before me a beautiful white horse draped in a red blanket embroidered with glittering gold. And atop that blanket sat a guard (for lack of a better word) dressed in a crisp red jacket, with gleaming gold buttons. Perhaps I had over estimated that 80% because trotting down the side of the biggest traffic jam I’ve ever been a part of, was what seemed like some sort of cross between a Canadian Mounty and a member of the British Royal Guard. I had to be hallucinating.

Nine groggy hours later (number 7 may or may not have been interrupted by a brass band in the street below…apparently part of a wedding celebration) I found myself in a van, with three other volunteers. We spent the next hour or so learning about each other, talking about our flight/airport/hotel experiences, and discussing our first impressions of Delhi. One volunteer even asked if anyone else had seen a horse on her way into the city... Aha! Either we were having joint hallucinations before ever having met each other, or I am at least as sane as she is!

First impressions being what they are, none of us really had any idea what was going on, and we certainly had no idea where we were going. We had started in the crowded, crazy, over-stimulating, backpacker district and worked our way past the city outskirts, passing loads of construction, glittering corporate offices, new shopping centers, and high-rise complexes reminiscent of Korea. Eventually we entered an area filled with various walled and gated compounds labeled as Farms. Seeing as I can’t see over or through brick walls, I am forced to imagine the land on the other side; something tells me the picture I’ve painted isn’t entirely (or at all) accurate.  After about an hour, we arrived at the orientation site, a research complex slash retreat that, after the chaos of Delhi, seemed like an oasis of calm and wide-open space.
Over the next five days, the seven volunteers were oriented to practical and cultural life in India, as well as the literal, moral, and theoretical implications of volunteering here and elsewhere.  In the first few hours, we were welcomed to India and our volunteer cohort, given an overview of AJWS, wrapped in Sari’s, and taken shopping for some staple Indian clothing here.  After some much needed dinner and a good-ish nights sleep, we dove into topics such as: Health and Safety (Don’t drink village water, Always wear bug spray), an Overview of Indian History, Cultural Do’s and Don’ts (Don’t touch anyone, or any written works with your feet, Always try to finish everything on your plate), and Practical Info for Living in India (Yes the rickshaw driver will try to charge you 3x as much as an Indian, No you should not just go with the flow and pay the inflated price). Orientation also gave us a platform to discuss thoughts on responsible volunteering, ethical photography and blogging, Jewish values in relation to volunteering as well as extensive cultural orientation.
Now, I’ve been through my fair share of orientation and staff trainings and fellowship retreats and usually leave feeling less than stellar about the use of my time and energy. While it is inevitable that some sessions will be more enjoyable than others, and some things simply need to be said and discussed, I felt this orientation left me far more comfortable and far better prepared to dive into my placement than I would have expected. It provided a great “soft entry” into the country and volunteer work, and I found myself repeatedly thinking I wish someone had shown me this before I started teaching in Korea…

Not only did I find many of the sessions relevant and well organized, there was also plenty of time to get to know each other and get to know the country. One evening we were invited to the home of one of our coordinators, an amazingly warm and maternal Indian woman (with a ridiculously impressive background in social justice work in India), who proceeded to provide us with a full-fledged, home-cooked Indian Feast. And this was no I will cook you a few hearty dishes and get you all good and fed sort of dinner party; but, rather a decidedly I am going to fill you with so many delicious things, you will eat so much that you cant breath sort of evening. Our host cooked upwards of 30 different dishes ranging from appetizers and snacks, to mixed dishes, and curries, and breads, and chutneys, and sweets, and far more things than I have ever associated with Indian food in my life.  Given my deep and lasting love for all things food-related… how could she fail to win my heart!

Our final two days of orientation were spent alongside representatives from our NGOs, who took time out of there very busy schedules to get to know us a little better, and participate in sessions outlining our mutual expectations and understanding some of the cultural differences we will face. It was great to finally connect faces with names, and learn a bit more about my NGO and the work they do. I am looking forward to learning more about the many aspects of the organization and my specific projects, and know that this clarity will come in time.

 I look forward to sharing a bit more about my project with you all as it comes, not to mention a bit more about what I am sure will be a wonderful, ridiculous, frustrating, strange, enlightening, and exciting first few weeks in Delhi.

What I won’t be doing is sharing my deepest insights on the Super Bowl and/or Puppy Bowl because I definitely forgot that was happening…. My B. Occupational hazard.

Namaste, Emily