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.