Sidewalks 101

I thought sidewalks were for pedestrians. Well, apparently the locals didn't learn that bit in driving school because I find myself right in middle of traffic on the SIDEWALK! Dodging motorcycles trying to cheat the stopped traffic by jumping the curb and taking their chances with the all too relaxed and, for the most part absent, traffic police. I wouldn't mind so much if for one, I didn't have to rely on walking as my mode of transport; two, it was only one or two idiots once in a while; and three, I didn't have to keep my eyes looking down in order to prevent myself from tripping on the uneven and stony path they call a "sidewalk". Now I am faced with the task of keeping one eye on the floor and the other eye on the bully motorcyclists in front of me practically aiming to pummel me down. Funny thing about nature... it has forced both human eyes to travel in the same direction. Woe is me. So it seems I am destined for a broken and bruised face OR a broken and definitely bruised body. Hmm.... tough one. For now, I will settle for quietly cursing the traffic and not so quietly cursing the block of stone I have just tripped over and has given my toe a nice aching pain to remember it by.

Angels

I read that a person's house may be inversely proportional to his happiness. It must be true because I have never seen more joyful children than the ones I visited at the appropriately named Angel's Orphanage in the heart and back allies of Bangalore.

I tagged along with a group of people from Gilberto's work one Sunday afternoon to visit this orphanage as part of a service project. I had been itching for some time since Sofia started school to occupy my newly found free time volunteering in some way. After a few unsuccessful attempts and several highly questionable "volunteering" organizations, I found out about this service opportunity at the orphanage. I have never actually visited one before and have for years secretly wished to run an orphanage of my own one day... (maybe it unconsciously had something to do with my love for the movie Little Orphan Annie.. who knows :)

We gathered all 9 or 10 of us, including Sofia, in front of the their office building to go together to the orphanage. I didn't know anyone in the group and suddenly found myself feeling that self-conscious, nervous, first-day-of-school feeling. I was also fighting my usual lazy and unadventurous side to keep going with the group despite Gilberto's last minute, work-related bail out. I'm so glad my courage prevailed because in the end it was such a moving and memorable experience.

We got there mid-afternoon and, when the children saw us coming they all gathered together in a room sitting crossed-legged on the floor in front of us. The room appeared to be their sleeping quarters with a handful of cots and neatly folded sheets and blankets on the shelves next to them. There were about 40 children ranging from age 2 to 20. The younger ones sat in the front as the older ones sat respectfully in the back, some even cradling the little ones in their arms.

I learned later that the boys at age 18 go off to college or start working and the girls remain in the orphanage until they are 20 when they are "married off". The lady in charge of the children told me with a proud smile that the girls at the orphanage are sought after for marriage because they're considered "homely" and have never been let to go wondering outside the orphanage. I couldn't help but be slightly disturbed by that and how happy she was about it. Anyway, who am I to judge.

We gathered together in that room. We sat on the chairs offered to us against the wall facing the bright-eyed children. We all settled pretty quickly and everyone became quiet with expectation as if we had come bearing some weighty and important news. After a couple of awkward silent minutes, the lady in charge of the children instructed them to sing a song for us. And they sang. They sang with their hearts. They sang with such angelic voices and in such harmony and unison that it was obvious that they'd probably learned and practiced singing that song since their first days at the orphanage. It was a song about God. I was too distracted by how they were singing it to listen to what they were singing, so I can't recall what the song was about, but I remember their faces. So full of hope and joy. I couldn't help but become teary-eyed, but I fought back those tears because I knew they had no place there.

We clapped proudly when they finished. Now it was our turn to offer them something, ... but no one said anything. I was itching, truly hoping for one of us to say something. But I think we were all so moved by them that we lost our own words. I found myself again inwardly fighting my shy, quiet self to break the silence. Suddenly I spoke, as everyone turns to look at me.. I asked the children if they had ever heard the song about the spider. A part of me was dreading that they would say yes, that they already knew the itsby bitsy spider song, and if that was all I had to offer. Thankfully none of them were familiar with the song and they watched me in respectful anticipation. I first explained to them the journey of the spider. How its wish was to reach the roof and in order to get there it had to climb the water spout. When the clouds gathered and it began to rain, the spider was knocked down and prevented from reaching the top. The spider's spirit however wasn't weathered and so it waited patiently. Soon enough the sun came out and dried up the rain, and the spider climbed back on its journey to the top. Secretly, or not so secretly, I wished that they would learn the moral of that short nursery rhyme and carry it with them. After teaching them the finger movements of the spider and the rest of the song, we sang together... and how they sang! I could see in their faces how much they were enjoying this new song. And it brought happiness to my spirit... such a pure and little thing.

We passed out some pencils and candy for them and soon the rigidness of the group opened up and the children began chatting amongst themselves and with us. We indulged them happily with taking their photos.. again and again. Some of the kids went outside to play games. The boys played cricket with the older guys and the girls taught us fun little chasing kind of games. One little girl even came up to Sofia, who had been a little reserved since we arrived there because she was quite tired, and asked politely if she could teach her a hand clapping rhyme. Sofia, curious and happy that the girl was being so gentle and kind with her, played with her without any protests. I took advantage of having brought my good camera and took pictures of the children and their unattached and generous smiles. Having so little, they were immensely capable of giving so much, just in the sincerity of their smiles.

Good Job, Mommy!

So as a mother, I realize my responsibility to try to teach all those important virtues like kindness, truthfulness, and compassion to my little one is an important and daily task. Most days this is pretty easy until one day you yourself are tested and your child is bright-eyed and watching to see how you react... man... talk about tough!

Let's take this morning for example. Sofia and I had just finished showering and washing off the remaining colors from the previous day's finger-painting-on-crack holiday in India called Holi... when Sofia gave a delightful yelp and said "mama a spider!" Instead of being scared or upset, I noticed that she was more curious and happy to see such a creature in our bathroom of all places. As I inched closer to see what she was talking about, I noticed this mammoth of an insect was no spider... although it did have many legs! Instead it was a light brown-colored... thing... on its back struggling to turn over. I leaned in closer and realized it was looking more and more like a hideously ugly and disgusting cockroach/beetle with an injured leg (or two). Now, on normal days, pre-Sofia, my reaction would have been letting out a blood-curdling scream, proceeded by grabbing my flip-flop and smashing the HELL out of that cockroach!!!! But seeing as my little one was looking at me and probably thinking "remember mama all those times you said I shouldn't step on or kill those ants outside, remember?" I instead gathered all the physical and emotional restraint I could and walked calmly to the other room... scanned the room to think of something to "get rid" of this insect as delicately as possible... as I couldn't really think of anything besides my flip-flop.. that's what I went for. As I'm walking... again calmly... back to the bathroom with the weapon in hand, Sofia says to me, "mama, be gentle... take it outside mama". My initial plan was to close the bathroom door so Sofia couldn't see her friend's life end so brutally, but I suddenly had a change of heart and decided to pick the thing up with my "weapon" instead... luckily since it was somehow already injured it couldn't go anywhere fast... but I COULD.. and did... as soon as I picked it up with my flip flop I ran with that sucker to the balcony and said good riddance to it as I tossed it frantically outside. Although I was horrifically disgusted... it made it all worth it when Sofia said, "good job, mommy!" with a big smile.

Happy (Baha'i) New Year

Today's been a good day.... a slow and seemingly unproductive day, but still good. I woke up this morning before Sofia and Gilberto, and although I could've slept in more I decided to take advantage of the time with a long hot shower, a quick clean of the apartment, the newspaper and a goooood cup of coffee (which was laced with too much sugar). Aaaaah nice :) By the time Sofia woke up it had been long enough for me to be tired of my alone time and I was missing her terribly! We greeted each other with the usual "morning, sunshine" and as I held my not-so-baby baby in my arms I couldn't help but squeeze her tight and be ever so thankful for her. Most of the rest of the day has been spent just enjoying our extra day off and long weekend. Today is the Baha'i New Year so we celebrated by eating a stash of small chocolates I had put away for safe-keeping, and boy did we enjoy it :-) Sofia's like me... a choc-oholic and quite good at being one too I must say. As I type this post now, my little chunky monkey has passed out on the couch from a sugar-induced coma.

The Land of Contradictions

I read recently from a westerner's observations of India that it is a land of contradictions. "India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It's all the extremes... India is in some ways like a fun hall of mirrors where (you) can see both sides of each contradiction sharply and there's no easy escape to understanding." Slowly I am realizing the many truths in this statement.

We have an Indian lady who comes to our apartment daily to clean that we have come to genuinely like because she has shown such outward affection toward our little girl Sofia - smiling, laughing, hugging her and even giving her gifts. Western guilt combined with our uneasiness of having someone coming to our place to do the cleaning and washing for us, has made us show an unusual display of kindness and leniency towards her, at least by Indian standards. But after giving her one time an unusually generous monetary gift to "help her daughter take an exam for school", we've slowly been fed more and more stories of her misfortune. Stories and complaints of her husband's daily drunkenness, her non-stop, no-day-off-even-when-she's-sick-with-fever job, her daughter's (and now son's) inability to attend college or take exams because of exorbitant fees, and then giving herself two days off to take her daughter to the doctor for a "headache", after which she lists off the many tests and fees she can't afford to pay. Having just recently taken our own daughter to the hospital, for which she was keenly aware, I began to feel a deep sorrow and sympathy that our "friend", despite working every day of her life, and having a husband who is a drunkard and spends all the little money he makes, and unable to send her daughter AND son to school, couldn't afford to help her daughter in her illness. What a wretched, rich American I am! At least, that is how I felt.

After consulting with Gilberto about the matter, because now the guilt has become REALLY pricey, we began to be a little suspicious. When I asked her to give me the name and phone number of her daughter's doctor so we can call and see what tests need to be done and how we can help, the response I was given was no more than a half-hearted, lopsided smile and "yes, ma'am". There were no more smiles when she said goodbye for the day and we never did get the doctor's phone number from her. We were soon made aware from dear Indian friends of ours that this is a common tactic from "the help" to squeeze money out of a guilt-ridden Westerner (when in fact they are doing just fine money-wise). The betrayal I felt was deep and personal.

But then I would read in the newspapers over and over again of just the opposite... not betrayal but loyalty to a fellow citizen. When a pedestrian is hit by a car or bus or motorcycle on the road and the person driving attempts to drive off, citizens who witnessed the incident stop what they're doing and run after the person. It never fails... it's actually what is expected because everyone knows that the police always happen to come way too late when the accused have already taken off. This is their way of ensuring the victim gets some justice. If the criminal is beaten up and put into the hospital, at least then there will be record of his name and then he can face the punishment that comes with being so careless on the road. It's an odd example of loyalty perhaps, but it shows that the Indian people not only feel justice is important for themselves but also have a personal sense of commitment to each other in that regard.

So even as I feel a certain betrayal of sorts by the Indian people who have taken advantage of my kindness, I am comforted a little by the contradicting loyalty as well. Making the sorrow only skin deep and ultimately banishing my naivete in a world that is not so innocent, which is a valuable lesson in my eyes.

This realization came to me suddenly and quite randomly while I was sitting in a autorickshaw, while smelling the many smells of India amid the morning Bangalore traffic and surrounded by a mob of motorcycles and rickshaws inching their way forward at every opportunity, that despite the betrayal there is a very real camaraderie and loyalty, even if displayed in the most odd circumstances. Suddenly I felt the compassion and loyalty as we all made our way forward, inch by inch in a melodic unison.

Porta Potty Anyone???

For goodness' sake, someone please set up more porta potties around this city! I don't think I'll ever get used to the fact that Indian men here pee freely on the sides of the roads. In fact, every week day morning as Sofia and I are riding in our usual rickshaw ride to her school, we seem to ALWAYS catch motorcyclists, rickshaw drivers, pedestrians... basically any man alive that happens to be going the same route as us... "relieve" themselves on the side of the road. On especially popular days.. we even catch a nasty whiff from the wind. And they have no shame in it at all! The author of "Holy Cow!" put it accurately when she said "It seems Indian men have a chronic urinary tract infection - they (pee) proudly beside the road, up against buildings, and in every park." We even had a rickshaw driver one time pull over on the highway to make his mark like all the other men. Try explaining to a 2-year-old "where the driver went" ... kinda tough.

Water, water... where?

Coming to India has been a really unique experience for me in many ways. Living in the comfort of my suburban American community, and coming from a middle-class family... I have never had to worry about things like how, or where or IF I would have clean running and drinkable water. Actually the opposite was true... I, like many others in America, wasted water in my every day use - taking looooooong, hot showers every day, letting the water run as I brushed my teeth, using way too much water to wash my car or the dishes, or unnecessarily wash too many loads of laundry. Living in India and witnessing the deep poverty that so many people here are subject to has quickly made me realize the sanctity of water.

When I first came here and would go to restaurants for a bite to eat... I was taken aback when we would ask for some bottled water and the waiter would present the 1 liter of water as if he were seeking our approval of an expensive bottle of wine. As I came to learn, I would have to then touch the bottle to see if the temperature of the water was to my liking. I dismissed this the first and second time it happened as over zealous waiters trying desperately to appear high class and professional to us foreign customers. But no matter what restaurant we would go to, whether expensive or not ... it was always the same. Water is such a precious resource... a necessity of LIFE... and yet it's astounding to think that way too many people don't have access to even this. I've definitely changed my daily habits in a pretty dramatic way... I value water so much more and use it sparingly, always keeping in mind that although I can "afford" to have as much water as I would like... I can't afford to waste such a valuable and precious resource which should be shared and available to us all.