India: RIDE Overnight Village Stay

Like Vietnam, India is taking a long time for me to process. I decided to tackle the problem by splitting it up into smaller, more manageable portions and hopefully this strategy will allow me to divide and conquer.

 

Cheesy metaphors aside, I’m really beginning to appreciate what a huge experience this trip is. I was talking to a friend and we were noting that we have the luxury while traveling on the ship between ports to reflect more or less exclusively about our most recent country. But when we get home and we’re asked about the entire semester, how will we possibly respond? Even talking about one country is overwhelming. With that in mind, I’ll begin India.

 

Our first reality check occurred before we had even arrived in Chennai. Crew members on the ship taped cardboard over hallways and staircases to protect the carpet from grime. The day of arrival was again swelteringly hot. After the routine passport checks and diplomatic briefing, I attended a yoga demonstration on the ship. Since I had a trip leaving at 12:30 and the ship didn’t clear until after 10, the demonstration from 10-11 fit in perfectly. The demonstration was led by one teacher and two students who showed us the positions. Some of them I recognized from previous classes, but others were completely crazy! One was contorted so we could see the front of the man’s head sticking out between his legs and his legs were bent behind him so that his feet were facing away from us, and another the man was balancing perfectly vertically with only the top of his head and his forearms on the ground. The man said that even though the positions looked difficult, with practice they really were quite easy. I’m not convinced though.

 

I enjoyed lunch on the ship before meeting with the SAS group of about thirty to go to the rural village. The program was titled “Child Labor in Rural India: Overnight Village Stay” so I expected to be confronted with some pretty devastating realities. Even on bus we passed unbelievable things… families living under bridges and in shacks along the beach, waterways used as trash cans, and plastic debris everywhere. The women all wore saris, which made a bright contrast with the often dusty roads. It felt very surreal traveling in an air conditioned tour bus alongside all of the poverty, and I was transfixed to the glass for the entire two hour ride.

 

Once arriving at the RIDE (Rural Institute for Development Education) headquarters, tucked away in a nice neighborhood not far from the main road. We met the founder, his wife, and a few helpers, including a girl named Rosie who was a volunteer from New Zealand. We were to stay in a four story building where each floor had its own room full of cots to sleep on, and as soon as we all claimed our space we went outside for tea and biscuits. Shortly afterward, we got back on the bus to visit one of the local schools that RIDE had founded.

 

As soon as we entered the school area, we were greeted by orderly lined up children who gave us beautiful purple flowers. We went inside one of the buildings, which had been donated by previous students on Semester at Sea. There, the children sang us songs and made some presentations on things like the water cycle, the planets, and the national bird, flower, etc. of India. Although some children were more comfortable presenting than others, they all spoke very good English. Some other children performed a dance for us, and they were all very dressed up, with braided hair and flowing skirts. Some children wore uniforms while others wore varied clothing; we learned that those with the uniforms went to the school during the day while the ones without the uniforms only could go to school at night. The children who went to night school either worked or attended government schools during the day. They were between five and fifteen probably, and all had huge smiles and their own personalities.

 

After all of the presentations we had some time to play outside with the children. We taught them hand games and “head, shoulders, knees, and toes” as well as camp songs that all of us somehow still had in the recesses of our memory. We played soccer, catch, and jumped rope. The most exciting thing for them, however, was playing with our cameras. They would say “miss, miss, can I take your picture?” and then would run all over snapping shots mainly of other SAS people. I think we all had a few seconds of panic when we thought our cameras might be dropped or we would never get them back. The children also loved seeing themselves in the picture, and would laugh and smile at us the whole time. A few of them in particular clung on to me, and it made me feel full that I made them happy. Unfortunately, we had to leave (I heard later that cobras come out at dusk so they needed us out before then!) but we carried out the memories of meeting them in our hearts.

 

We returned to the headquarters for a delicious dinner. Although I think the Indian food I like from the US, like naan and tandori chicken, is actually northern Indian cuisine (we were in southern India) I decided that I like this new type of Indian food too. I especially liked paneer and dosas. Paneer is a curd that has a similar texture to tofu, and is mixed with delicious sauces and flavoring, while dosas are similar to pancakes. After dinner, we talked at length to the founder of RIDE, Mr. Jeyaraj. We discovered that the children who went to the school we visited were rescued from working in the quarries. Mr. Jeyaraj told us that many employers of these children got angry at him for taking away their laborers, and in 1997 he had to be hospitalized due to violent attacks. He also said that “Indians hold everything sacred… except their people. Cows and monkeys are sacred but the Indians don’t care for the people.”

 

The next morning, we ate again at the RIDE headquarters before heading out on the bus. We passed rice fields and small villages, where people would look up at our bus curiously, and often smile and wave. We reached our destination and were met by dozens of villagers, some playing drums, others giving us a red mark on our foreheads, and still more putting flowers in our hair. We were led around the village where many invited us inside their humble homes, often with dirt floors, few rooms, but usually still with a TV. Many houses had colorful and ornate chalk drawings outside of their door, I think to please the Gods and ward off bad luck. We also saw traditional methods of doing things, from cooking in clay ovens outside to drying cow manure and straw to use as later as a fuel source. Everyone in the village seemed to be either leading or following us around.

 

We also visited a school, this time with younger students, where the oldest was probably only around seven. The school was one room, and as we entered the children lined up facing us, as we were about to start playing football. Most of the children seemed curious, but not unhappy, to see us, but there was one girl who I noticed who was not pleased that we were there. I watched as her eyes gradually filled with tears as she continued watching us tall, white strange people, until she couldn't hold it back any more and progressed into full fledged wailing. At first I tried to comfort her but after a few minutes I just felt strangled and felt compelled to leave the building. I could not intrude any longer.

 

I wasn't outside of the building five minutes before I was approached by half a dozen Indian women who wanted to show me their houses. It seemed so strange - on the one hand to be greeted by sobs and on the other to be invited into their homes! I almost think that the little girl had it right... we had signed up to see poverty, almost as a tourist attraction in itself without really stopping to consider the individuals. Most kids liked it, wanting to see themselves and play with our cameras, but I couldn't get over feeling like we were on a trip to the zoo.

 

I met up with the group again and visited a final school, this one with older students who were prepared and excited to see us. We sat in small circles with the children, which was much less intimidating for everyone. Two other girls and I sang, counted, and read until we realized the bus was moving! So we made a dash for the door and rejoined the big group.

 

We got back on the bus for a last meal at RIDE before leaving to return to the ship. We thanked Mr. Jeyaraj, the wonderful cooks, and all of the other people helping with RIDE. We ran into horrific traffic on the way back, and it took us three hours to return to the ship when going out had only taken two. Nonetheless, we made it back to the MV Explorer an hour before we were to begin our second part of our Indian adventure.