Lesson from John

13:14

29 June 2010

This story is a little late in being told. It took place this last Saturday:

John and I get along well. He is patient with my requests for information and questions and my struggles to acclimate. I think he even enjoys watching me as an American successfully learn the Indian ways of eating, dress, communication and transportation, etc.

Just yesterday, we shared my first witness of a marriage procession. There was a parade of a hundred men in fine silk, scarlet red turbans and dressed in their finest robes, a hundred women in dazzlingly colored gowns, with the groom being marched along atop a throne held up by the mass of bodies. This was all done to an outrageous cacophony of drums and other percussive instruments piercingly amplified electronically. The cheering and chanting was severe. As they passed by our office, I put in my earplugs and went to investigate the festivities. John followed. We watched as the passed and shared a sympathetic chuckle. His only comment was, “I bet you don’t have THAT in America!”

Anyway, The Lesson: Early afternoon on Saturday, John unpredictably told me to bring my camera and get into the auto. Because of the language barrier and people coming and going all of the time, this happens often to me. I don’t always pick up on when I’m included or not. We were off. To where, I had no idea. John was on his mobile phone, so I didn’t interrupt to ask.

We arrived at our destination forty-five minutes later. It was a narrow alley swarming with men, women and children. It was loud with the ruckus of voices, and the energy was rapid and peculiar. I had no idea where we were or what was happening to cause so much commotion.

I followed John into the thick of the crowd and into a small, mud-brick, one-room building. In here, it was even more densely packed with bodies and busy chatter. There was a single table at the back with a lantern for light. Behind the table were several men in white with stacks of paperwork. John led me to the front and gave me two commands: #1 take photos. #2 learn what is taking place.

Snapping photos was simple enough. The lighting was poor. There was a lot of movement, but it possible and straight forward. Deciphering the event was the challenge. No one spoke English here, and it did not resemble any typical occurrence in the United States. The first few minutes, I was down right confused. Then I began dissecting the various dealings and orientation.

Most perceptible were the men in white at the top of the hall. They were the important people here. They were issuing packets of paper work along with something that resembled a form of monetary note.

The people around me were poor, very poor. This fact took me a while to realize because clothes, jewelry, or other physical appearances were unrevealing. The key was inscribed on all of their faces. They were creased with a lifetime of burden. . . and there was the presence of many children. . . These were slum dwellers.

The event finished 7 or 8 minutes after we arrived. I was able to figure out that this was a sort of community ceremony. These people were receiving money from the government for a year’s worth of housing. While John was conversing with the “men-in-white”, I even managed to convince one of the residents to take me on a tour of the small slum.

Later I learned that these people were from the colony of N.S. Palya, a slum for which I had entered data earlier in the day. John further explained that the men in white were politicians. Each of the 35 households living in this slum was given 35,000 Rupees for housing in what is called a “Demand Draft”. Once the 35 households vacate the area, SPARC will begin demolition of the exisiting structures and will build a new four-story housing complex in their place.

On the ride back to the office, John described a story of when he visited Brazil. He is vegetarian and wanted a meatless meal. He didn’t speak a lick of their language so he pointed to a leaf and shook his head at any living or dead animal until finally someone understood and provided him with what he needed.

His purpose for bringing me along (besides taking photos to add to our data base) was to teach me to never allow language to be a barrier and to do whatever it takes to understand and to be understood. He forgave my not

asking him where we were going as politeness, but his point was clear: if I am here to learn, then learn regardless of obstacles.

Buses and Hierarchy

21:22

28 June 2010

Another week has passed. It has been three full weeks since I boarded the departure plane out of San Francisco. Everyday continues to be jam-packed with surprises and the unexpected; however, Bangalore's rhythm has also been established and learned.

I’ve been taking the bus to and fro the office for the past week and will continue to do so because they are the cheapest form of motorized transportation in Bangalore. Buses are plain scary. They are over crowded. They usually don’t stop for boarding or exiting so generous leaping is necessary. They insist on doing u-turns across 6 lanes of traffic during rush hour . . . and I love the 'zoo-i-ness' of all of it. . . I wanted to mention that they were reliable, but during transit a few days ago, my bus decided to switch all of its signs and kick everyone off mid-route. We were all dumbfounded. I was a few minutes late to the office but had to laugh warm-heartedly.

More so, I’ve been trying to puzzle out the trafficking right-of-ways. Surly some organization exists within the seemingly endless pandemonium. . . My current conclusion is that the biggest on the road has the right-of-way. . . sometimes. The other seems to be that the junkiest vehicle with the least to lose also has the right-of-way. Regardless, drivers ALWAYS break and swerve for cows.

Work takes up most of my time, and the office is open six days a week. I enjoy going, and my work load is steadily increasing . Using gathered GPS data and Google Earth, I’m beginning to create a database of all 1000 slums in Bangalore. John’s primary goal is to figure out a way to map the boundaries for the slums within the city limits without expensive software. This is relatively a simple task; however, we’ve also been discussing ways to add and access more data within the map boundaries such as photos, video clips, and information from SPARC’s biometric database.

One of the strangest things about working in India is the idea and implementation of hierarchy. We simply do not have such a structure or concept within the boundaries of America. Here status and caste play an integral role in how the workplace functions, and the understanding of its operations is second nature to natives. . . but not to me.

John made it very clear the first day that I was not to help the women from Mahila Milan with their work. This is the main activity taking place in the Bangalore office, but it is not to be part of my job. I should learn the process but should not try to help out in anyway. This was straight forward enough; however, it has taken me a little while to figure out some of the more subtle points of status policy.

John is the Boss. John is the Lion. John is King. When he arrives in the morning (usually last), all the women and all of the men rise to their feet and bid him good morning. Throughout the day, he is served special tea and snacks, etc. He casually barks orders, and they are immediately carried out.

The ladies’ value is well recognized, but they definitely have less privilege with decision making and authority. They are also required to prepare and serve tea and the afternoon meal.

There are few men in the office (about 6 compared to the 30 women). Their tasks seem to be more technical and professional than the ladies’. They often are sent out to meet with partnering companies and government officials. John jokes with them, but his tone can also be commanding

**Always, John and all others sit at the same level, often in a circle so that when conversing the lines of caste are blended.**

The combination of my education, race and nationality seems places me somewhere between the men and John. I may be female, but gender is over-ruled by education. Education is over-ruled by skin color. Skin color is over-ruled by nationality. . . However, my "place" may very well be simple hospitality towards a visitor. I cannot tell, but the kindness shown to me on my first few days has morphed.

Because of my technical role, I’ve been mostly traveling and attending meetings with the men of SPARC. They don’t make me feel unwelcome, but I sense that it is an oddity for them to converse and collaborate with a female, especially one so young. Both parties are reassured by John, and it is proving to be a positive learning experience for everyone involved. Some of the gentlemen, including John, are impressed by some of the possibilities that I’ve been showing them with the GPS data. It is a good place to be.

Happy Birthday, Sir John Samuel!

25 June 2010

21:09

Today was just a really great day.

Upon arriving at work, the atmosphere in the office was almost giddy with excitement and anticipation. The women were exchanging eager looks and sweeping energetically, and the men were busy organizing and discussing.

It was John’s Birthday.

Before he arrived, a cake was snuck in along with an assortment of presents wrapped in metallic royal blue paper. Eventually, we were all shooed out of the office and made to do our work outside. We waited.

John arrived an hour and one half later. Everyone rose and stood in line to shake his hand, wish him a very happy day, and give many congratulations. Then he was ushered inside where the beautiful lemon cake awaited. We all sang a Birthday tune very similar to the American classic while flowers were strung around his neck and placed in his hair. Throughout the singing, John cut the cake and hand fed a bite to everyone within arms reach. It was a joyous occasion.

Presents from the ladies were then given. Most were fruits and flowers. The men’s present to John was hard-wiring and installing 3 new plug outlet panels in the office. It proved to be a full day of zero power, but now there are plenty of plug spaces to go around.

I’m not sure if it was customary (this was my first birthday celebration in India), but John proceeded to take everyone in the office out to lunch. This was my first restaurant experience in Bangalore, so I had someone else order for me. My only request was for it to be vegetarian. When I was served a large silver platter full of smaller dishes of savory sauces, rice and flatbread, I was surprised. I had to watch the others to figure out how to proceed with the eating of such a meal. It was busy and fun.

After the celebration came to an end, I spent an hour or so socializing with the girls in the office that I didn’t yet know very well. It was time full of broken English, smiles, and laughter. Smiling is the universal language, and the energy was contagious. It was great to see everyone is such high spirits. :o)

Bangalore Office Activities

In Bangalore, SPARC and participating communities are very active building and designing housing complexes and community toilets, starting savings/credit programs, and establishing schools for children who otherwise would not be able to attend.

The office space is nothing more than a small storage space with a faucet and toilet in the back. There is a wireless internet connection, but only John and I have laptops. Most workers are woman from Mihilan Milan. They are busy visiting slums by bus or in the office keeping manual paper records of the savings in office records. It is a community effort preparing tea and the lunch time meal.

Because slum dwellers of India are characterized by their informality, Bangalore’s SPARC office maintains a comfortable atmosphere for them. Everyone sits cross-legged on straw rugs, and, if necessary, short tables are used for sketching or taking notes. The pace of business is calm and leisurely with long intervals of down-time for everyone.

I continue to be uncertain with my role in this organization. John does not seem quite sure why he asked me to come, and I am struggling to figure out where I can fit in and help out. Last week he had me researching various data merging programs and their capabilities. This week, John and I met with an architect and visited a possible construction site in the Leprosy Colony.

Although I had been to the Leprosy colony once before, it proved to be another unforgettable experience:

John walked into slum as if he owned the place. There were no salutations or greetings of any sort. We rushed by the houses whose doorways I occupied for hours last week. Our presence was announced, and we gathered with the leaders of the Colony in the health clinic area. Here, we studied and discussed the current site plan of the colony. The common language was English.

Our parade crept through the narrow alleys, clambered atop ramshackle rooftops, and scaled over crumbling walls to determine drainage, pipeline location, and possible equipment access points for construction. The only access into this area is over a 30-foot wall, and there is a pipeline six-feet deep that cannot be disturbed. Some sort of driveway will have to be constructed, which will be costly. It seems a mess.

I was the only female in a mass of 40+ stern men, and initially, my presence wasn’t welcome. I was given peculiar and perhaps even disapproving looks, but John offered a hasty, blunt statement of reassurance to both them and me. Issue solved.

Being a female in India is not as intimidating as the rumors account. It is absolutely necessary to wear clothing that is long and baggy, but in the business world, if one has the necessary education and put into a complimentary position, then regardless of gender, one will be able to do his or her job without opposition.

About SPARC - Technical

BACKGROUND

S.P.A.R.C. stands for the Society for the Promotion of Area Resource Centers. It is a registered NGO whose main purpose is to develop and produce proactive, collective solutions for land security, safe housing, and basic infrastructure services to the urban poor of India.

In 1984, SPARC was founded to work with the pavement dwellers of Mumbai and now works in close partnership with National Slum Dweller’s Federation, which defend rights of urban poor, and Mihila Milan, which explore the current local situation and participate in the federation process.

SPARC helps survey settlements and produce an information database for these areas. Based on the data collected, they are able to better articulate demands to the state. The various data gathering processes are as follows: slum profile (access to amenities/services), hut numbering, mapping or plane table surveys, and household surveys. Once data is collected, the next steps are to start the households with a savings program and discuss plans for the area being considered.

The savings is a critical part of SPARC’s process because the practice and business of managing money is a means to creating strong and responsible communities. The households are managing their own financial resources. Also if SPARC decides that building a new housing complex or community toilet, the beneficiaries are required to pay for 12% of the costs (no small sum).

The savings process faces an array of challenges because the money is collected from poor women struggling to feed their families. Mihila Milan women help them on a daily basis by visiting each of their homes and collecting the money left over after their daily expenditure. The slum women are also trained to run savings and credit activities. In the future, these women will be entitled to take out loans for emergencies.

As one gets more involved in the planning of design and construction, the state politics must be addressed. The major issue seems to be getting the slum declared an “Official Slum” and learning who owns the land on which the slum dwellers are residing. Depending on if the land is public, private or government opens a whole new can of worms.

http://www.sparcindia.org/

Two Weeks Since Leaving California

21 June 2010

21:15

I’ve officially been in Bangalore of one full week. Much I have witnessed. Much I have experienced. Much I have learned.

I have decided to stay at the convent at 17 Davis Rd, which has turned out to resemble a young ladies hostel. My reasons for remaining are as follows:

>My room is a single occupancy and clean,
>I have a private toilet
>Rent is cheap- $5000 Rs ($106 USD) per month
>Three vegetarian meals are included daily
>It is quiet and safe
>There are friendly pet dogs
>There are other girls in a similar age group without nearby family

The only down side is that the curfew is 21:00; however, Thomas spoke with Sister Florin (the ward master) to extend my curfew an hour later since I might have extended meetings/travels, etc. I have yet to learn how to take advantage of the extra time because the gate is bolted shut promptly at curfew.

In the last week, I have grown to enjoy living here. I thank John and Thomas for suggesting that I stay for awhile before making the decision to find an alternative.

The girls are in a similar age group and are either working or studying here in Bangalore, and six or seven of us gather for supper every evening. I’ve been invited to their rooms for sweet treats and evening social time. A group of us went to mass at the Holy Ghost Church on Sunday, and I have joined in nightly post-dinner walks.

These ladies are not included in the mean of the Indian bell curve. They are not living with their families or caring for children. Instead they are seeking a professional life, which sets them drastically apart. This in turn has made them more accepting of my differences too. I am most grateful for their shown desire to form friendships with me. Being a lonely, white female in India is not a simple thing to be, but being able to at the very least share meals with a consistent community is good.

Finally I was able to go shopping on Friday. Thomas sent his two daughters to take me. They showed up on a motorcycle, and I contemplated with hesitation. It had been years since I’d been on a two-wheeled street vehicle and never had I ridden one with a female driver. Hemet-less and with doubt, I clambered on, and we took off. Immediately I could tell there she wasn’t’ the most confident driver, but it was too late. I was on the wild beast, and there was nothing else I could do but pray to the high heavens that Bangalore’s traffic gods would take care of our mortal bodies.

We went to Commotion Street, which is a cacophony of sounds, smells and shopping. I was first led into a fancy, expensive shop and tried to explain to the sisters that I wanted inexpensive clothing. Finally they understood, and the purchasing of garments was done in a matter of minutes. Back on the bike and back to the convent.

I must admit that I do understand and empathize with all of you motorcyclists: cool wind through one’s hair; splash of risk, and all the cool kids staring. . . :)

Daily at the office, we continue to visit various slums to speak with its people and collect data and images. Every colony has its own song, its own dance, and its own cry. Glimpsing at their wretched living conditions is exhausting. Responding to their pleas for impossibly immediate new housing is agonizing.

I’m beginning to grasp the complexity and hassle of the politics and government involved in obtaining permission to construct these houses. It is an extremely long process, which is disheartening; however, today, I was shown the Queens Road Colony (which I unknowingly pass everyday on the way to work). It is one of the finished complexes. The building is beautiful. It has 24, very comfortable and nicely finished flats. I was astounded by the quality, square footage, and insightful design.

It was good to see a project actually completed. We are doing something. Houses are being built. People’s lives are improving.

This morning was my first time (while in Bangalore) getting to work by myself. I asked 27 rickshaw drivers if they would take me to my office, but all minus two declined because it is such a far distance (11 kilometers). One man said yes, but he took me the opposite direction. I knew better and got out. Another wonderful driver took pity and got me to my destination without a hitch. This evening I took the bus home. From now on I’ll take the bus. Buses can’t say, “No”, and they are much cheaper. My only apprehension is the K R Market Bus Stop. It is a wild, zoo-like place without comprehensive organization. I need to visit it once more to understand where to get which bus to go where. I’m a small, town Northern California Girl. We don’t have buses or trains or auto rickshaws. Our only options are trucks, cars, bicycles or horses in one one-thousandth of the traffic. . . After this adventure, travelling in San Francisco will seem a piece of fat-free, vegan cake.

Working within such an ambitious organization as SPARC is an honor; however, it still isn’t clear what my role will be. John seems to want me to do software and documentation merging from my laptop, but that isn’t something about which I have much knowledge or my laptop can healthily handle. Time will tell where I can fit in and add to the operations in a helpful way. . .

Over all, things here in India are going well. I had a cold for the better part of last week, but seem to have mostly recovered. Mosquitoes love to feast on my flesh, but I’m sure to take my malaria medication and keep anti-itch cream on hand. I wished that I was home for Fathers’ Day, but otherwise, I’m still content being away for the USA and in this rich experience.

The thing I’ll never become accustom to is the noise. The honking is absolutely shrieking (even through ear plugs). The cells of my very bone marrow are rattled. . .

Thank you and Goodknight.

Surprise Visit at the Office

18 June 2010

21:40

The day was ending, and we were gathering up the rugs and cleaning up the kitchen. Today was an ordinary day at the office doing paperwork and trying to merge data, etc.

That is, until the clock struck 17: 47.

A small vehicle piled with 24 individuals (mostly women) dangling out of the doors, latched to the roof and swinging from the racks pulled into SPARC’s driveway. We all looked on in shock, awe and extreme curiosity.

As flawless Indian custom, despite our office closing soon, they were all warmly invited to sit in our meeting space. Then, the women in the kitchen once again, fired up the stove and began brewing tea for our guests. After it was ready, every single individual was provided hot chai and a sweet biscuit snack.

**Note: This is probably my favorite Indian ritual. There seems to be no better way to show hospitality and friendliness than through a cup of hot, sweet and spicy tea!**

Turns out there were from the slum colony of Kundusinappa Garden, just a few minutes vehicle ride from our office in Bangalore. Here, SPARC has already constructed a community toilet, started a savings program, and is currently in the planning stage for providing a new four-story housing complex for 300 households.

They came to ask John when the housing would be complete. The monsoon season is on its way, and they are deeply worried about the strength of their homes.

Unfortunately, their savings program only began six months ago, and the measurements to begin design of the building complex were only taken the day before. I was told later that once construction began, the houses would be ready in 15 months, but there was a long process of preparation that still needs to take place.

The meeting was in Hindi, so I all I could do was observe facial expressions and capture tones and lengths of phrases within their discussion. The colors and dynamics were entrancing.

The women from the slums forcefully stated their concerns. Their faces were hard and their eyes dark. Then John would voice a long dialogue equally as forceful, but then he would soften his delivery and offer a reassuring smile. The smiling was contagious and soon laughter broke out. More worry ebbed to despair and disappointment, which, in turn, ebbed to relief and reassurance.

They are fearful that their investments will yield no fruit. Their situation is urgent, and they are struggling to accept and understand that the promise granted to them will take time. Their disappointment stung, but in time, they will have adequate housing for themselves and their families.

Visit to Ambedkae Slum

“It is mystic. It is wild. It is a sweltering inferno. It is the photographer’s paradise. A hunter’s valhalla, an escapist’s utopia. It is what you will, and it withstands all interpretations. It is the last vestige of a dead world or the cradle of a shinny new one. . . . it is just Home. It is all these things but one thing: it is never dull.” - West with the Wind

18 June 2010

13:50

I think it is safe to say that every country, every society, every city, every community, every neighborhood, every family, every team and every other kind of group of people possess their very own structure, style, attitude, and energy. This is no different within the slums of India.

Thus far, I have told only about the Dharavi slum of Bombay and the Leprosy Colony of Bangalore. I have described these places as clean and joyful, perhaps even with the connotation of optimism; however, I am beginning to develop a hunch that these are of a rare nature and do not contain qualities represented in the other 1000 slums that exist in the boundaries of Bangalore’s city limits.

Yesterday I went to the slum of Ambedkae. It took over an hour of foot and crowded bus transportation to arrive. It was late afternoon. Chores were underway.The children were returning from lessons.The vibe of the main alleyway was somber and tense.

The first noticeable attribute was the smell. It was the rank blend of abandoned livestock, decomposing garbage, and human bodily waste. There was no public toilet, and there was no waste collection management system underway.

The second attraction was the miserable state of the housing structures. They were mostly temporary structures made out of 2x4s and tin sheeting. They were beyond their useful life, rickety,

and incredibly small and crowded. The women sitting at their entrances either doing laundry, preparing the evening meal, or picking lice out of each other’s hair were grave and agitated.

There was also a cow in the middle of the lane, which added the sole stroke of levity to the scene. Children danced and sang around her as they headed home from the market and school. She was nuzzling doorways for scraps of food and pressing her wet nose at anyone who disturbed her. Even goats sprinted freely by, and chicks fluttered about.

The burdens that these individuals faced were unmasked on their faces, in their tones, and by their mannerisms. They were exhausted. They were reluctant to take time out of their afternoon to speak with us; however, children were still eager to have their photographs taken. Kids still ran and played in the streets, but often they were scolded and ordered to do chores.

We were there to collect monies from households that had some left after their daily expenditure as a sort of savings, loan, and credit operation, and we also were collecting data on their housing structures (for how much they were purchased, square footage, building materials, etc).

SPARC has no plan to do any infrastructure development in this area. The people are without immediate hope of a brighter tomorrow. The savings project will allow them to hopeully cope with unexpected crisis, unemployment,

and housing damage. Some are taking loans to put one of their several children through school.

This seemingly loose security is more than

most slum dwellers can expect, but it is yet another hardship and worry added to their already oppressed lives.

Facts and Myths of India

**Disclaimer: I’m supplying this entry as an attempt to illustrate some of the norms of everyday India. In journal writings, the main goal is to capture events, people and impressions of the day, and often times, I don’t include some of the novel things that make everyday India, Everyday India. Here it goes.**

Don’t drink the water: FACT

Westerners should not drink the water or use it to wash anything intended to enter the intestine due to E coli and other nasty bacteria; however, bottled water is easy to find and inexpensive ($ 0.50 USD) or often times filtered water is also available. For all of you environmentalists please know that I use my BPA-free Nalgene and filtered water.


Toilets: FACT

Everything that you have heard about the toilets in developing countries is true. It is just a hole in the ground with a bucket of water. Yes, the left hand is used. Yes, there is no toilet paper. No, they do not smell badly. No, this is not gross, but rater it is in fact environmentally friendly as to cut down on paper pollution. It may take a little getting used too; however, be assured that EVERYONE washes their hands viciously after urinating or defecating. Plus, your rear is not coming into contact with anything someone else’s has.

Another thing to note is that the toilet and the bathroom are almost always separate, and showers do not exist. Water is too precious of a resource, so only bucket-baths are permitted. From a Westerner’s background, this takes some creativity to complete.

Right Hand Rule: FACT

This rule does not only apply to mathematics, physics and mechanics. It is probably even more important in India. The left hand is used in the toilet. The right hand is used for everything else. Whether it be eating, thumbing through a book or handing someone a pencil, it is done always with the right hand. Further more, hand holding within same-gender couples is common. Women hold hands with women and men hold hands with men in public. It is simply a sign of friendship.

Holy Cow: FACT

Yes, there is the holy cow. These creatures are found in abundance everywhere. The most amazing sight consists of cows in the busy streets. They wander at a leisurely pace while chaotic traffic shuffles and zooms by. In India, killing a cow is equal to murdering a human being. There is a humped-back, short and stocky Indian cow that is a sort of spectacle and is a hardy breed, being able to survive droughts and hardship. There are also familiar dairy cows wander the streets that eat garbage all the live long day. One may laugh, but while humans die every minute on the busy city streets, there are special sanctuaries for cows to die comfortably.

Also worth a further explanation is this so called ‘chaotic traffic’. In India, as most countries in the eastern hemisphere, people drive on the opposite side of the road compared to the USA standard. Also the traffic is not uniform or organized as it is in America, and traffic laws are more like loose guidelines. For example often vehicles come charging down the wrong side of the street into oncoming traffic, there are no boundaries for lanes –motorcycles, bikes, auto rickshaws, taxies, horse and wagon, SUVs, cars, livestock, and pedestrians--all merge and pack tightly together with no concept of a space buffer or organized aisles, and if traffic lights exist they are never actually minded. Sounding of the horn is also never ceasing. Honking is simply used to let the world know that the driver is coming your way. Even under these circumstances, I have yet to see a wreck or someone hit. It is truly remarkable. Indians are far better drivers then westerners by far.

Bare Feet and Sandals: FACT

Every man, woman, and child, whether they be rich, poor, young, old, healthy or sick, wear sandals or go barefoot. It is actually pretty remarkable to witness. Even the very rich have calloused, cracked and worn feet shoved into equally mangled and filthy sandals. There is no such thing as a tender-footed India, EXCEPT police officers. They are the one and only exception and wear heavy black leather boots.

Also meetings and office work is often conducted outside while sitting on a straw rug on the ground at shin-high tables, also shoe-less.

Offerings of Chai Tea: FACT

Everywhere one goes in India, tea will be offered. It will be sweet and hot. By routine, chai is served in the morning with breakfast and several times throughout the day in little ¼ cups. Mostly it is served with milk (powdered—liquid/fresh form is unsafe to consume), but chai can be requested to be served ‘black’, which simple omits your milk. I personally am a huge fan of chai and look forward to it throughout the day. Also everyone makes chai differently, so it’s a sort of surprise with each cup.

No Eating Utensils

Most American Indian restaurants won’t do this to you, but in Southern India, all meals are eaten only with the right hand and NO utensils. Each meal (breakfast, lunch, dinner) consists of rice and a spicy sauce of some sort or another. These are blended using the first two segments of fingers and then shoveled into the mouth. It is a process with skill and technique that takes a bit of practice to not be messy or sloppy.

Slum Dwellers are Miserable: MYTH

It is true that the slums are crowded, poor settlements, but the people in these places are bight, colorful and full of laughter, community and love. In truth, if you see these individuals walking past on the street, it is impossible to determine that they are from the slums. They have dignity and maintain the average standard of hygiene that is present amongst the majority of Indians. More so, because of new public toilets that have been installed in recent years, the ‘human-filth’ is non-existent. The only trash present is collected seemingly hourly by sweeping of the narrow alleys and then depositing it outside the living areas like a very close landfill.

Filth: MYTH/FACT

Indians do have different ideas of what is considered proper cleanliness. Harsh disinfectant chemicals are never used. Feet are considered impure already, so the need to keep them clean is nil. All floor cleaning consists of sweeping, and clothes washing is done only when it is really needed. Plain dirt isn’t considered much of an issue.

The filth is in the streets and outside of living areas. Because there is no organized trash collection, the garbage is just dumped.

It took me a long time to figure out what the horrible rotting stench was here in Bangalore (there was no such smell in Bombay). It turns out that beneath the thin slabs of concrete that make up the uneven, fractured sidewalk, there is a gutter intended for storm runoff from monsoon rains. This hollow space is packed full of plastic bags, bottles, cloth, food scraps and an array of other decomposing debris. The trash ever present in the streets is eaten by dogs and cows, so its ability to smell is limited. When it gets trapped underground, the odor is overwhelming.

I AM BEGINNING TO LOVE INDIA :)

Leprosy Colony: 209 households

Yesterday, I went to the Leprosy Colony/Slum in Bangalore. It was a pretty unforgettable experience.

In this colony, there are 209 households of which most are single story, kaccha (temporary) structures. These houses/rooms are on government land and occupy 35,000 square feet and all have electricity. Most of the peoples are have been there for more than 40 years, are from the state of Karnatara and are laborers or beggars.

SPARC is attempting to design and build a four story, permanent housing complex for these 209 households. Prageeja and my task was to interview families to learn their ‘stories’. This is something that would never happen in the USA. We already have demographic data and raw data. This was purely a human insight. . .

BASAMMA has been in the colony for over forty years and from the state of Karnataka. When she began to show the evidence of Leprosy, her parents left her. She was a small child. She found her way to theLeprosy hospital, and later married another Leprosy patient. They had two children, neither of which had the disease. One died in infancy, and the other is now an auto driver. When she arrived in the colony there were only 36 families. Her occupation isbegging. Basamma has only stubs for hands and feet, but she is happy and humors enough.

VEERAMMA has been in the colony for 45+ years. She came for the Leprosy colony. Her husband died 7 years ago. Her occupation is begging.

MAMAMEGALA is from Tamil Nadu and has been in the colony for over forty years. She was married, but when she got Leprosy, her husband left her. After coming to the colony, she remarried. Her first husband died twenty years ago from alcohol convention. From his death, she gets a pension of $400 Rs/month (approx $8.50 USD).

LAKSHMI has been in the colony for 35 years and is originally from Karnataka. Her parents died when she was very young, so she came to Bangalore with her brother-in-law. Soon after, he died, leaving her to be a pavement dweller. After a few years she moved

to the Leprosy colony and married a barber, but he also died from a heart attack. They had six children. One is an auto driver. One is studying. They had to give dowries of $40,000 Rs for each of their four girls. As Lakahmi told her story, she wept because her son-in-law had died last year. There was nothing more to be said.

NOORUNIESA’s husband was a Leprosy patient and died 8 years back from alcohol. When they married, she didn’t know that he was a patient. They bought the house that we were visiting after renting it for several years. They had two sons.

PERYAKANNAN and NAGAMMA are husband and wife. There have been in the colony for over 60 years and are originally from Tamil Nadu. Nagamma came to Bangalore when she was 13 years because her parents were very abusive. She married Peryakannan who is a Leprosy patient and had two children. One now works at a plywood office as an office boy, and the other is earning his associates degree. The Leprosy treatment and education for the children are supplied free though an organization called Sumaraha Halli Society.

PATTAPPA has be

en in the colony for 40+ years and is not yet married. He is a humorous and gleeful man who could wait to have his photograph taken. After studying until 4^th grade/standard, he went to the Leprosy colony for treatment, and now his uncle takes care of him. His parents are still in contact with him and operate their own agriculture business. He claims that his begging hours are from 8:30-15:00.

The homes of these individuals are small; however, they are well kept and the streets are clean. In some areas, the streets are only a foot wide. Often the residents of our project-areas come by the office for a meal or meeting. It is impossible to distinguish which are from or not from the slums. They are clean, well-fed, motivated and dignified. More so, this colony has a public toilet and bath for both men and women. Each gender has 8 toilet stalls and one bathroom. They too are clean and cost $1 Rs to use.

Children and adults alike enjoy very much to have their photos taken. Some followed us for hours and secretly peaked around corners to wait their turn. :)