Saturday, January 30, 2010
The adventure down under!
After a short couple of weeks back at home (literally two), I find myself in Sydney. We have been here for almost three weeks now (since the 9th), and it has been incredible. The people have been interesting and friendly. The scenery is absolutely amazing. We have had the opportunity to have lectures from professors who specialize in a range of studies from biology, ecology, history, law, anthropology, and more. Learning about his sometimes harsh natural land and its sometimes harsh history of violence has been intriguing. Just as I am starting to get used to Sydney, I find that we are taking off to an aboriginal camp, where we will be doing a week of experiential learning from a group of Indigenous Australians. I am looking forward to learning from descendents of what is often believed to be the oldest living culture on earth. Oh, the Places You’ll go!
With no time to really process the past few months of wonder, I took off with a friend for a few days in Nepal to fulfill a lifelong dream of standing toe to toe with the Himalayas. As we made our way through the capitol city of Kathmandu, we made arrangements to get Pokhara, a starting point for many hikers through the Annapurna Himalayan Mountain range. We quickly learned the next day that a strike shut down the entire country and had to reschedule a flight. We finally made and began our hike to Poon Hill at the elevation of 10,500ft. While we did it a little quicker than I would have liked it was still amazing to see the sun wage war with the stars against the back drop of the Annapurna Himalayan Mountain range. It was truly an inspiring feeling that I will never forget. Seeing true beauty like that is a rare privilege and a distinct honor that I can never really recreate, but will always keep etched easy into the forefront of my memories.
After spending another day in the city by myself, I made my way back to Delhi to meet up with a couple of friends as we did some last minute shopping and made our way to the airport. We boarding the plane and flew back into Chicago. We couldn’t believe our eyes and ears. Had we really done it? How could we make sense of it all? Before we all knew it, we were back in Portland, going through yet another culture shock.
After spending another day in the city by myself, I made my way back to Delhi to meet up with a couple of friends as we did some last minute shopping and made our way to the airport. We boarding the plane and flew back into Chicago. We couldn’t believe our eyes and ears. Had we really done it? How could we make sense of it all? Before we all knew it, we were back in Portland, going through yet another culture shock.
Vacation!
After finishing up with another day or two in Bangalore, I drove with some other students North West towards a huge Hindu historical site. It’s was noted as a Hindu site because of the importance it holds for the history of the Hindu kingdoms of old. The main Hindu strong holds of the ancient India were indeed centered in Hampi, the town I spent the first few days of my second vacation. It was wonderful to take a self guided tour around the town and see the ancient ruins. After, my friend Keletso and I made our way to Mumbai on a flight that was upgraded to first class for free. We touched down in Mumbai on the one year anniversary of the Terrorist attacks on their city. To them, the November 26th, is what 9/11 is to those of us in the states. As we made our way to the center of the site of the terrorist attacks (Taj Mahal Hotel), it could not believe my eyes. There were news vehicles stretching down 4 or so city blocks. There were tons of people everywhere. It was truly exhilarating and chilling at the same time. As we felt waves of people brush against us, we couldn’t help but think silently to ourselves about what must have gone down there. What were the people thinking at the time of the attacks? Where would they have run or hid? What anger must have compelled someone to open fire on such a massive crowd of people? And then just as there are people shouting, chants being repeated; some angry and some somber, and the army people march by in their uniforms I will never forget what I saw next. Just then, a huge crowd of kids ranging in age from 6 to maybe 18 marched down the street in absolute silence most of the time as they let their silent footsteps and painstakingly white t shirts speak for them. I looked directly at one and read the blue lettering on the front as I whispered to my friend, Keletso, “make peace, not pieces”. As the chills literally ran down my spine and arms I got choked up as I looked around at the children leading the charge for peace through the absolute presence of justice and realized that people from all over India had come together for this. In this moment, there were no racial divides. In this moment, there were no Punjabis, Muslims, Hindus, or Buddhists. There were no kids or adults, and there were no haves or have-nots. In this moment, there simply were people who were hurt by an unnecessary attack on their city, on their souls, on their collective spirits. And it was in this moment that I saw humanity make hope for itself for the first time in a long time.
I will also never forget the man that carried a huge Indian flag and waved it valiantly through the air as high and hard as he could possibly wave it. I looked up and saw the green of the flag crack the breeze and the entire surrounding crowd broke out into the national anthem. After that rally, we lit candles for the fallen, and made our way to the shops nearby. As we started talking to another shop owner we got into the topic of the attacks. When I asked him what he did when the shooting started, he said “we stayed right where he was. He said it was his shop, this is his city, and these are his people, how could I abandon them in their most dire time of need?”
The next morning, we went to lunch at Leopold Café (a popular tourist site that was one of the main targets of the attacks. As I sat down at the table that was up against the half wood and half mirror wall, I noticed a crack in the corner of my eye about half way through the meal. As craned my heard to see the entire mirror, I saw a large bullet hole in that glass, and goose bumps populated my entire body. Just then, I realized that in order for the bullet hole to make it to that spot in the mirror, it would have to pass through the person who was sitting in my very chair. Can you imagine the pain? Can you imagine the horror the person sitting across the table must have felt?
After a couple days in Mumbai, we made our way to Goa, a popular beach town and hung out for a few days. It was lovely to chill on the beach and just relax before returning to our home in Delhi to meet up with the rest of the group for the final week of the program. We all met in Delhi, had final presentations of our projects that we did in Varanasi, and had final dinners and celebrations.
I will also never forget the man that carried a huge Indian flag and waved it valiantly through the air as high and hard as he could possibly wave it. I looked up and saw the green of the flag crack the breeze and the entire surrounding crowd broke out into the national anthem. After that rally, we lit candles for the fallen, and made our way to the shops nearby. As we started talking to another shop owner we got into the topic of the attacks. When I asked him what he did when the shooting started, he said “we stayed right where he was. He said it was his shop, this is his city, and these are his people, how could I abandon them in their most dire time of need?”
The next morning, we went to lunch at Leopold Café (a popular tourist site that was one of the main targets of the attacks. As I sat down at the table that was up against the half wood and half mirror wall, I noticed a crack in the corner of my eye about half way through the meal. As craned my heard to see the entire mirror, I saw a large bullet hole in that glass, and goose bumps populated my entire body. Just then, I realized that in order for the bullet hole to make it to that spot in the mirror, it would have to pass through the person who was sitting in my very chair. Can you imagine the pain? Can you imagine the horror the person sitting across the table must have felt?
After a couple days in Mumbai, we made our way to Goa, a popular beach town and hung out for a few days. It was lovely to chill on the beach and just relax before returning to our home in Delhi to meet up with the rest of the group for the final week of the program. We all met in Delhi, had final presentations of our projects that we did in Varanasi, and had final dinners and celebrations.
India, the south
Dear Friends,
I apologize for the delay in updates. It seems time really does slip away with more and more swiftness than I can sometimes process. I can’t believe how long it’s been since last we spoke, but I will try to do my best to catch you up over the next few posts.
I ended the India program with another week of vacation after finishing up our exploration of the South of India. After moving through Bangalore, Mysore, the BR Hills, and a few more places, you could imagine that we were pretty tired. While we all were exhausted, we were truly grateful for the things we had learned. Nothing can ever compare to digging through a field in order to learn about the Employment laws through the eyes of the government workers in rural India. And sitting with college students to discuss environmental degradation theory and ways that we can come together to care for our planet is a mental sensation that cannot be put onto paper. Walking through the jungle of the BR hills and learning about the land and its people by living with local tribes for a few days was truly heartwarming. Learning about their unwavering need to “develop sustainably” by availing themselves of modern health care while still holding true to their tradition is a lesson that we could all learn. For example, they have had agriculturalists come through and study their ways of cultivating the land and compare them to the “modern” way and have found that the tribal way is really the best for their health and for the longevity of the land mainly because they don’t take more than they need and replace it after they are done. Who would have though, the fair, but highly criticized rule of reciprocity (give back as much as you take) can actually work in our modern world. I will also never forget the bon fire the tribes threw us at the end of our stay there. They regaled us with traditional tribal dance and song just before suppressing the midnight flames in order to spread the coals. Just then, children half my age and size waltzed across the hot coals as if it were their form of relaxation or yoga. Well, me being me, I raised my eyebrow, scrunched up the legs o my pants, and did what any Tacoma boy would do; I walked across the hot coals. You will all be glad to know that no scars were acquired and it was truly an amazing experience. It really is something that I shall never forget. The only thing I could say at the end was “Oh the Places you’ll go”
I apologize for the delay in updates. It seems time really does slip away with more and more swiftness than I can sometimes process. I can’t believe how long it’s been since last we spoke, but I will try to do my best to catch you up over the next few posts.
I ended the India program with another week of vacation after finishing up our exploration of the South of India. After moving through Bangalore, Mysore, the BR Hills, and a few more places, you could imagine that we were pretty tired. While we all were exhausted, we were truly grateful for the things we had learned. Nothing can ever compare to digging through a field in order to learn about the Employment laws through the eyes of the government workers in rural India. And sitting with college students to discuss environmental degradation theory and ways that we can come together to care for our planet is a mental sensation that cannot be put onto paper. Walking through the jungle of the BR hills and learning about the land and its people by living with local tribes for a few days was truly heartwarming. Learning about their unwavering need to “develop sustainably” by availing themselves of modern health care while still holding true to their tradition is a lesson that we could all learn. For example, they have had agriculturalists come through and study their ways of cultivating the land and compare them to the “modern” way and have found that the tribal way is really the best for their health and for the longevity of the land mainly because they don’t take more than they need and replace it after they are done. Who would have though, the fair, but highly criticized rule of reciprocity (give back as much as you take) can actually work in our modern world. I will also never forget the bon fire the tribes threw us at the end of our stay there. They regaled us with traditional tribal dance and song just before suppressing the midnight flames in order to spread the coals. Just then, children half my age and size waltzed across the hot coals as if it were their form of relaxation or yoga. Well, me being me, I raised my eyebrow, scrunched up the legs o my pants, and did what any Tacoma boy would do; I walked across the hot coals. You will all be glad to know that no scars were acquired and it was truly an amazing experience. It really is something that I shall never forget. The only thing I could say at the end was “Oh the Places you’ll go”
Friday, December 4, 2009
First week of Independent Travel
I know this jumps back a bit, but I realized that I promised you I would inform you of my time ont he Arabian Coast, so here it is.
As we touched down in Kochin (hot spot of the southern state of Kerala), it was pouring rain. We didn't know really what our plans were past the night that we had booked at the home stay in Fort Kochin, about an hour from the airport. The five of us got really lucky and jumped in a cab with another family that was headed the same direction. As the rain hit hard on the car, we made our way to Fort Kochin to our home stay. Upon our arrival, as per usual in India, we were informed that our reservation had been booted and they had no room for us. They offered for us to stay in their brother's home stay, and after trying to communicate to the non English speaking driver, we found our way to the Ark Home stay. While the air was humid here, were happy to be steady after a very long full day of traveling.
As a group, we had decided to save money on food by cooking our own breakfast. This, of course, meant that we needed to go out in town and find some food for the next morning. After talking to our home stay/temporary travel agent, we found our way to a grocery store. As we were walking down the main street, we were approached by two gentlemen that wanted us to be in a "bollywood" film. I, of course, was skeptical about the offer and told him I was not up for getting up that early. The next morning, I decided to sleep in and when the rest of the group had returned from their morning walk, they told me they were approached by the same man who asked them the same thing and gave them his business card. They informed me that we would need to call soon, as the bus would leave for the set in two hours. After seeing the excitement in their faces, and having the owner of our home stay call the guy and set up a deal for us to get paid, I decided to indulge and grab my stuff and head onto the bus. After an hour's drive we arrived at a private resort and walked a few yards to a private beach were there was indeed a full on Bollywood set in action. We were asked to do a number of dance scenes, but basically I was paid to enjoy the Arabian coast, get to know some European travelers from England and Australia, and eat free food. I must say, it was truly and amazing day as I saoked up the sun on the Arabian Coast.
At the end of the day, we went our to dinner with our new European friends and woke up the next morning to go on a 7 hour back waters boat tour. After seeing the amazingly beautiful back waters and how those people use the few resource they have (mainly coconut and shells) to make everything from rope, to food, to some clothing, we made our way back to Fort Kochin in just enough time to see the traditional Kataculli dance of India. As they told the story of a God and Goddess love gone wrong through brilliant hand and body movements, we found our way back to the home stay (hotel) in just enough time to catch a few hours of shut eye before we woke up early the next morning to start on the 5 hour drive to Munnar ( inland) to spend a night in the middle of the rolling Tea Farm hills. Munnar, needless to say, was amazingly beautiful. It had rolling hills for miles and on the way we even had the chance to stop and wash Elephants int a river. After washing these majestic creatures we had toe opportunity to ride them. I must say, it is an experience that I shall never forget. To feel the warmth of the Elephant ear brush up against your crinkled toes, is a feeling that truly has embedded itself into my heart's memory.
After returning from Munnar, we decided to head south to the beautiful beach town of Varkala where most of the tourist in Kerala go. At first, I was weirded out by the idea of seeing tourists as we had spent the last two months with nothing but Indians. Even though I was skeptical of the whole thing, it turned out to be an amazing experience. We sat on a not so crowded beach on the Arabian Coast and swam in the Arabian Sea. I could not believe it. Me, Aukeem A. Ballard, had gone from Tacoma, Washington all the way to the Arabian Coast. I couldn't help but just sit there and stare for a while sometimes. The first night, we decided to go to a popluar restuarant and ended up having a dance off with some people from Ireland, England, Australia, and France. After spending a considerable amount of time hearing their stories and exchanging contact information, I made my way back to our bamboo hut "hostel" and woke up to the rolling sound of the waves of the Arabian Coast crashing against the northern rocky shore. I spent yet another day on the Beach writing in my journal, listening to music, and swimming int he Sea.
That night was our last night of travel and since we had to get up relatively early the next morning to catch a train and then a plane to meet up with the rest of the LC group in Bangalore, we had decided that it would be best to pay the owners what we owed them for the two or three nights. That morning at around 7 am, I was woken up by our friend that was traveling with us and staying in the next room over that we had been robbed while we were sleeping. At first, I thought it was a joke, but was quickly brought into reality as we walked out and saw our things thrown about and scattered in the alley next to the huts. As we gathered our stuff and quickly checked for our identification documents, I went back to check my things. Now, usually I can spotted by my red back pack and my orange hooded sweatshirt. Usually, that same red backpack is with me always. This night, I decided to put all my luggage together, up against the wall. It turned out that somehow, it was the only piece of luggage to remain untouched between the two rooms. Out of some miracle, my camera, ipod, flash drive, and money had been the one set of valuables out of the five of us to be spared.
After gathering ourselves, we used the money I had left over to grab breakfast, a cab to the train station, and a lunch before the plane ride to Bangalore to meet up with the rest of the LC group. Needless to say, the four other people I was traveling with were heart broken over the loss of their memories in the form of journals and pictures, but they were determined to not let that one instance spoil their amazing experience on the southern State of Kerala. As the saying goes, Oh the Places you'll go...
As we touched down in Kochin (hot spot of the southern state of Kerala), it was pouring rain. We didn't know really what our plans were past the night that we had booked at the home stay in Fort Kochin, about an hour from the airport. The five of us got really lucky and jumped in a cab with another family that was headed the same direction. As the rain hit hard on the car, we made our way to Fort Kochin to our home stay. Upon our arrival, as per usual in India, we were informed that our reservation had been booted and they had no room for us. They offered for us to stay in their brother's home stay, and after trying to communicate to the non English speaking driver, we found our way to the Ark Home stay. While the air was humid here, were happy to be steady after a very long full day of traveling.
As a group, we had decided to save money on food by cooking our own breakfast. This, of course, meant that we needed to go out in town and find some food for the next morning. After talking to our home stay/temporary travel agent, we found our way to a grocery store. As we were walking down the main street, we were approached by two gentlemen that wanted us to be in a "bollywood" film. I, of course, was skeptical about the offer and told him I was not up for getting up that early. The next morning, I decided to sleep in and when the rest of the group had returned from their morning walk, they told me they were approached by the same man who asked them the same thing and gave them his business card. They informed me that we would need to call soon, as the bus would leave for the set in two hours. After seeing the excitement in their faces, and having the owner of our home stay call the guy and set up a deal for us to get paid, I decided to indulge and grab my stuff and head onto the bus. After an hour's drive we arrived at a private resort and walked a few yards to a private beach were there was indeed a full on Bollywood set in action. We were asked to do a number of dance scenes, but basically I was paid to enjoy the Arabian coast, get to know some European travelers from England and Australia, and eat free food. I must say, it was truly and amazing day as I saoked up the sun on the Arabian Coast.
At the end of the day, we went our to dinner with our new European friends and woke up the next morning to go on a 7 hour back waters boat tour. After seeing the amazingly beautiful back waters and how those people use the few resource they have (mainly coconut and shells) to make everything from rope, to food, to some clothing, we made our way back to Fort Kochin in just enough time to see the traditional Kataculli dance of India. As they told the story of a God and Goddess love gone wrong through brilliant hand and body movements, we found our way back to the home stay (hotel) in just enough time to catch a few hours of shut eye before we woke up early the next morning to start on the 5 hour drive to Munnar ( inland) to spend a night in the middle of the rolling Tea Farm hills. Munnar, needless to say, was amazingly beautiful. It had rolling hills for miles and on the way we even had the chance to stop and wash Elephants int a river. After washing these majestic creatures we had toe opportunity to ride them. I must say, it is an experience that I shall never forget. To feel the warmth of the Elephant ear brush up against your crinkled toes, is a feeling that truly has embedded itself into my heart's memory.
After returning from Munnar, we decided to head south to the beautiful beach town of Varkala where most of the tourist in Kerala go. At first, I was weirded out by the idea of seeing tourists as we had spent the last two months with nothing but Indians. Even though I was skeptical of the whole thing, it turned out to be an amazing experience. We sat on a not so crowded beach on the Arabian Coast and swam in the Arabian Sea. I could not believe it. Me, Aukeem A. Ballard, had gone from Tacoma, Washington all the way to the Arabian Coast. I couldn't help but just sit there and stare for a while sometimes. The first night, we decided to go to a popluar restuarant and ended up having a dance off with some people from Ireland, England, Australia, and France. After spending a considerable amount of time hearing their stories and exchanging contact information, I made my way back to our bamboo hut "hostel" and woke up to the rolling sound of the waves of the Arabian Coast crashing against the northern rocky shore. I spent yet another day on the Beach writing in my journal, listening to music, and swimming int he Sea.
That night was our last night of travel and since we had to get up relatively early the next morning to catch a train and then a plane to meet up with the rest of the LC group in Bangalore, we had decided that it would be best to pay the owners what we owed them for the two or three nights. That morning at around 7 am, I was woken up by our friend that was traveling with us and staying in the next room over that we had been robbed while we were sleeping. At first, I thought it was a joke, but was quickly brought into reality as we walked out and saw our things thrown about and scattered in the alley next to the huts. As we gathered our stuff and quickly checked for our identification documents, I went back to check my things. Now, usually I can spotted by my red back pack and my orange hooded sweatshirt. Usually, that same red backpack is with me always. This night, I decided to put all my luggage together, up against the wall. It turned out that somehow, it was the only piece of luggage to remain untouched between the two rooms. Out of some miracle, my camera, ipod, flash drive, and money had been the one set of valuables out of the five of us to be spared.
After gathering ourselves, we used the money I had left over to grab breakfast, a cab to the train station, and a lunch before the plane ride to Bangalore to meet up with the rest of the LC group. Needless to say, the four other people I was traveling with were heart broken over the loss of their memories in the form of journals and pictures, but they were determined to not let that one instance spoil their amazing experience on the southern State of Kerala. As the saying goes, Oh the Places you'll go...
time to catch up
hello dear friends,
I know it has been some time since last I wrote and for that, I apologize. Internet usage is few and far between in a land that is still trying to figure out how to develop. At any rate, in the next two weeks I hope to catch you up on what has been going on with me and some of the experiences I have had that have stuck with me. A few of them shall be contemplative, but most will be descriptive of my journey.
After we left Varanasi, the holy city, we set out on a series of adventures. We did not stay in one set place like we did for the months of September and October, but instead moved through Bangalore, Ponukonda, Nagraholi, Mysore, and the BR Hills. In Bangalore we had the opportunity to learn about the part of India that is developing at a higher speed than the US, which was interesting to say the least. After meeting with a software company, it was insanely interesting as we stepped foot onto a completely different part of India. It was almost as if we were stepping onto the a mini Microsoft campus, which if you're familiar with is really nice and really modern. The interesting part about this was not only the switch in scenery, but also the switch in mindset. As we met with the head Human resources manager, a few new employees, and one of the founders of the company, I found myself diving deeper adn deeper into the questioning of my own life style. While there were many things that stuck with me, one of the main things was the seemingly lack of realization the employees had about the two different India's. This term "two different India" is used to show the difference between the one third of the peple that are in poverty here and the two thirds that don't. It was clear that these workers were indeed part of the latter group. When asked how they went about dealing with the two worlds, they simply said that " it is how they have lived since the beginning of their time, so it was not complicated". While I cannot blame them for this as I too have thought to myself that it's just how things are, I still couldn't help but contemplate the amount of things that I had ignored in my life. The injustices that I let fall to the waste side for convenience, or because it's just been the way it's been. However, I walked out of the day long discussion and presentations with a keen eye towards justice and a new necessity to keep asking questions.
Oh the places you'll go!
I know it has been some time since last I wrote and for that, I apologize. Internet usage is few and far between in a land that is still trying to figure out how to develop. At any rate, in the next two weeks I hope to catch you up on what has been going on with me and some of the experiences I have had that have stuck with me. A few of them shall be contemplative, but most will be descriptive of my journey.
After we left Varanasi, the holy city, we set out on a series of adventures. We did not stay in one set place like we did for the months of September and October, but instead moved through Bangalore, Ponukonda, Nagraholi, Mysore, and the BR Hills. In Bangalore we had the opportunity to learn about the part of India that is developing at a higher speed than the US, which was interesting to say the least. After meeting with a software company, it was insanely interesting as we stepped foot onto a completely different part of India. It was almost as if we were stepping onto the a mini Microsoft campus, which if you're familiar with is really nice and really modern. The interesting part about this was not only the switch in scenery, but also the switch in mindset. As we met with the head Human resources manager, a few new employees, and one of the founders of the company, I found myself diving deeper adn deeper into the questioning of my own life style. While there were many things that stuck with me, one of the main things was the seemingly lack of realization the employees had about the two different India's. This term "two different India" is used to show the difference between the one third of the peple that are in poverty here and the two thirds that don't. It was clear that these workers were indeed part of the latter group. When asked how they went about dealing with the two worlds, they simply said that " it is how they have lived since the beginning of their time, so it was not complicated". While I cannot blame them for this as I too have thought to myself that it's just how things are, I still couldn't help but contemplate the amount of things that I had ignored in my life. The injustices that I let fall to the waste side for convenience, or because it's just been the way it's been. However, I walked out of the day long discussion and presentations with a keen eye towards justice and a new necessity to keep asking questions.
Oh the places you'll go!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Lucknow: The colonial city
Dear Friends,
I apologize for the lack of posts lately. Internet access has been sparse these past few weeks as we travel to many different places. I have many stories to catch you up on and will be posting 5 or so more posts over the next two weeks. For now, here's one from the beginning of October that has taken me a while to put into words.
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Growing up in a "fear or be feared" neighborhood such as the one I have come to love, violence is not a foreign concept. In schools, metal detectors were routine, and fights with knifes were entertainment for some. Although my neighborhood has come a long way, I guess when you cram people into the same run down neighborhood with next to zero quality resources and even fewer examples of a better way, there is not much that can be done in the way of non violence. Being raised in such an environment would seem to prepare any person for all sorts of violence, but the city of Lucknow, or at least its train station, has proved that there are just some things that no person or amount of experience can prepare you for.
The tender city of Lucknow sits on the Gomti River and holds the never forgotten whispers of unmentioned fallen soldiers and homeless victims of social and personal neglect closely to its banks as the waters attempt to wash them away through the friendly process of "erosion". Sadly, I've come to expect this sense of destitute to wash over me as we step onto the dark concrete of any major or busy Indian city. While some, if not all, of us have resigned to the notion that perhaps it is best to ignore the things about this country that we do not like, those things are still made apparent. In effect, we've given up our liberal belief that we must change the things that our moral compasses cannot accept. Although, I would be remiss if I did not recognize the possibility that some of us may very well have only temporarily suspended those very beliefs. No matter what we believe or chose not to believe, however, the same sounds, colors, smells, and sights still come into contact with our receptors just as the sounds of begging children and annoyed travelers flooded my ears as the feet of 26 or so well educated adults came into contact with the cold concrete of the Lucknow train station. Per usual, we were stared at by seemingly puzzled and intrigued Indians. Per usual, we were annoyed by this. Per usual, we began to ignore this and walk away. Per usual, I took a position in the back of the crooked line of LC Students and associates to make sure no one was left behind. Life seemed to go on as it has been in the past weeks here in India. Just at the moment that I was getting comfortable with the new environment, the forces that be rocked me unsteady. Just as we made our way up the stairs, the little girl that was asking us for money was running after us in what I can only imagine was a desperate last ditch effort to get someone to take pity on her as a seemingly wealthier gentlemen(although I would argue he was far from a gentleman) began to "help" us get rid our our problem. As this man proceeded to yell at the little girls with words and facial expressions that I may never understand, familiar feelings washed over me. I had known all to well the pattering feet to avoid the swift and heavy open hand of a parent. However, there was something different here. It may have been that this guy didn't seem to be related to the little girls, or that they just seemed to be so much smaller than this mammoth of a man as his hand was probably half the size of her body. Whatever it was, it made it so I will never forget what came next. As the little girls scattered, the feet started to turn over as fast as they were able, but they proved to be no match for the weight of the man's human paddle and the length of his over arching reach. It seems as though their best efforts to protect their backs and their dignities were also of no match for the embedded anger he carried. As the girl was thrust upon the dark concrete steps of the Lucknow trains station, I saw her face grimace as tears sprinted down her cheeks, and the well educated and experienced Lewis & Clark student that writes to you today could do nothing more than freeze.
I stood there just watching. I felt too incredibly helpless and at the same time so immensely ashamed and embarrassed of not only myself and my own inaction, but also for that little girl. Could it be that those social psychology discussions of not ignoring the things that are happening around us in hopes of someone else taking responsibility really didn't sink in? Had it come to the point where I believed that cultural differences and cultural relativism could be used as an excuse for suspending my own deeply rooted beliefs of non-violence unless in the defense of those who cannot help themselves? Was I not the kid that told his summer campers to "increase the peace"? I had to shake myself out of this spiraling confusion as the group was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps.
As we made our way out of the train station I reached the bottom of the steps and had to turn around. There was something clawing at my heart strings and violently plucking them until the recent memories had become murderous melodies in slow motion like an old time horror flick that keeps skipping up and down the screen, but was never really meant to be played in the first place. I finally gave into the plucking and turned my entire frail body to face back towards the steps. I don't really know what I was looking for, but I suspect my upbringing that valued the morals of such world figures as Jesus, Gandhi, Dr. MLK Jr., Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandela, and other people who fought for those who could not fight for themselves had a large influence on that decision. As I peered over the dispersed sea of people, the two little girls stood at the top of the steps, and the one that was thrown to the ground pointed a finger in our general direction. She stared towards the doorway and something in me must have wanted to see if she was ok, because I was able to turn around after she stood on those steps, pointing her fingers like I imagine the prophets once did as they stood on a hill above their followers, leading the way they wanted them to go in order to do their bidding, whether it be for good or bad. Only this time, there was something hanging over me like a forgotten birthday of a loved one that hard recently passed away because my eyes started a war with my inner emotions and lost the battle as the emotions destroyed the dam that kept the tears at bay and they snowballed down my cheeks as I caught up with the group. I stayed in back so no one would see how ashamed I was of myself. We walked to the bus and the little girl followed. I plopped myself in the back of the bus and could not help but tear up again as the little girl played on the abandoned bicycle outside as if nothing had happened. As if the tears she cried when falling to the ground were all too often wiped onto her torn t shirt.
I tried discussing it with friends over breakfast that morning, because my western upbringing had taught me that talking about it was the way to process it. Clearly I was not ready as I had to leave the table in fear I would burst into tears again. Thinking back, I've had to bring into question my most core perceptions of India, myself, and how we've been interacting. What is it about India's culture that makes it acceptable to hit unknown kids in public without any sort of consequence or retribution? Perhaps equally as important, what is it about my upbringing that makes me so in tuned with children rights? I have to wonder if the many different environments in which i was raised had a profound impact on the way I view human rights and civil liberties. To take it a step further, I now wonder if cultural differences are enough of an excuse to suspend my own set of beliefs.
Seeing that little girl and reflecting upon my own experience in India has made me recall my initial experience on the intense part of Delhi called old Delhi. Upon my initial reflection of the old city of Delhi, I came to the conclusion that there is no better way to describe it than the "jungle that got a hold of technology." Now, experiencing what I have, I can't help but wonder if the jungle mentally has been internalized by those whose education has not been focused on critical analysis. I recognize my own bias that is passed along through my own upbringing, but at the same time I want to cling tight to those beliefs that I have come to hold so dear. What is more, is I was deeply moved by the notion that education, if focused correctly, can indeed act as a foundation to start dismantling some of those aspects of culture that are perceived to be "uncivil".
I may not have the answers to the questions raised by this experience, but I am now clear on one thing; intense and serous acts of violence on people that cannot defend themselves, such as homeless kids, no matter what they be involved in, is unequivocally wrong. I make that statement fully aware people may differ in their own values, and fully prepared to defend it.
Oh, the place's you'll go...
I apologize for the lack of posts lately. Internet access has been sparse these past few weeks as we travel to many different places. I have many stories to catch you up on and will be posting 5 or so more posts over the next two weeks. For now, here's one from the beginning of October that has taken me a while to put into words.
-------------------------
Growing up in a "fear or be feared" neighborhood such as the one I have come to love, violence is not a foreign concept. In schools, metal detectors were routine, and fights with knifes were entertainment for some. Although my neighborhood has come a long way, I guess when you cram people into the same run down neighborhood with next to zero quality resources and even fewer examples of a better way, there is not much that can be done in the way of non violence. Being raised in such an environment would seem to prepare any person for all sorts of violence, but the city of Lucknow, or at least its train station, has proved that there are just some things that no person or amount of experience can prepare you for.
The tender city of Lucknow sits on the Gomti River and holds the never forgotten whispers of unmentioned fallen soldiers and homeless victims of social and personal neglect closely to its banks as the waters attempt to wash them away through the friendly process of "erosion". Sadly, I've come to expect this sense of destitute to wash over me as we step onto the dark concrete of any major or busy Indian city. While some, if not all, of us have resigned to the notion that perhaps it is best to ignore the things about this country that we do not like, those things are still made apparent. In effect, we've given up our liberal belief that we must change the things that our moral compasses cannot accept. Although, I would be remiss if I did not recognize the possibility that some of us may very well have only temporarily suspended those very beliefs. No matter what we believe or chose not to believe, however, the same sounds, colors, smells, and sights still come into contact with our receptors just as the sounds of begging children and annoyed travelers flooded my ears as the feet of 26 or so well educated adults came into contact with the cold concrete of the Lucknow train station. Per usual, we were stared at by seemingly puzzled and intrigued Indians. Per usual, we were annoyed by this. Per usual, we began to ignore this and walk away. Per usual, I took a position in the back of the crooked line of LC Students and associates to make sure no one was left behind. Life seemed to go on as it has been in the past weeks here in India. Just at the moment that I was getting comfortable with the new environment, the forces that be rocked me unsteady. Just as we made our way up the stairs, the little girl that was asking us for money was running after us in what I can only imagine was a desperate last ditch effort to get someone to take pity on her as a seemingly wealthier gentlemen(although I would argue he was far from a gentleman) began to "help" us get rid our our problem. As this man proceeded to yell at the little girls with words and facial expressions that I may never understand, familiar feelings washed over me. I had known all to well the pattering feet to avoid the swift and heavy open hand of a parent. However, there was something different here. It may have been that this guy didn't seem to be related to the little girls, or that they just seemed to be so much smaller than this mammoth of a man as his hand was probably half the size of her body. Whatever it was, it made it so I will never forget what came next. As the little girls scattered, the feet started to turn over as fast as they were able, but they proved to be no match for the weight of the man's human paddle and the length of his over arching reach. It seems as though their best efforts to protect their backs and their dignities were also of no match for the embedded anger he carried. As the girl was thrust upon the dark concrete steps of the Lucknow trains station, I saw her face grimace as tears sprinted down her cheeks, and the well educated and experienced Lewis & Clark student that writes to you today could do nothing more than freeze.
I stood there just watching. I felt too incredibly helpless and at the same time so immensely ashamed and embarrassed of not only myself and my own inaction, but also for that little girl. Could it be that those social psychology discussions of not ignoring the things that are happening around us in hopes of someone else taking responsibility really didn't sink in? Had it come to the point where I believed that cultural differences and cultural relativism could be used as an excuse for suspending my own deeply rooted beliefs of non-violence unless in the defense of those who cannot help themselves? Was I not the kid that told his summer campers to "increase the peace"? I had to shake myself out of this spiraling confusion as the group was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps.
As we made our way out of the train station I reached the bottom of the steps and had to turn around. There was something clawing at my heart strings and violently plucking them until the recent memories had become murderous melodies in slow motion like an old time horror flick that keeps skipping up and down the screen, but was never really meant to be played in the first place. I finally gave into the plucking and turned my entire frail body to face back towards the steps. I don't really know what I was looking for, but I suspect my upbringing that valued the morals of such world figures as Jesus, Gandhi, Dr. MLK Jr., Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandela, and other people who fought for those who could not fight for themselves had a large influence on that decision. As I peered over the dispersed sea of people, the two little girls stood at the top of the steps, and the one that was thrown to the ground pointed a finger in our general direction. She stared towards the doorway and something in me must have wanted to see if she was ok, because I was able to turn around after she stood on those steps, pointing her fingers like I imagine the prophets once did as they stood on a hill above their followers, leading the way they wanted them to go in order to do their bidding, whether it be for good or bad. Only this time, there was something hanging over me like a forgotten birthday of a loved one that hard recently passed away because my eyes started a war with my inner emotions and lost the battle as the emotions destroyed the dam that kept the tears at bay and they snowballed down my cheeks as I caught up with the group. I stayed in back so no one would see how ashamed I was of myself. We walked to the bus and the little girl followed. I plopped myself in the back of the bus and could not help but tear up again as the little girl played on the abandoned bicycle outside as if nothing had happened. As if the tears she cried when falling to the ground were all too often wiped onto her torn t shirt.
I tried discussing it with friends over breakfast that morning, because my western upbringing had taught me that talking about it was the way to process it. Clearly I was not ready as I had to leave the table in fear I would burst into tears again. Thinking back, I've had to bring into question my most core perceptions of India, myself, and how we've been interacting. What is it about India's culture that makes it acceptable to hit unknown kids in public without any sort of consequence or retribution? Perhaps equally as important, what is it about my upbringing that makes me so in tuned with children rights? I have to wonder if the many different environments in which i was raised had a profound impact on the way I view human rights and civil liberties. To take it a step further, I now wonder if cultural differences are enough of an excuse to suspend my own set of beliefs.
Seeing that little girl and reflecting upon my own experience in India has made me recall my initial experience on the intense part of Delhi called old Delhi. Upon my initial reflection of the old city of Delhi, I came to the conclusion that there is no better way to describe it than the "jungle that got a hold of technology." Now, experiencing what I have, I can't help but wonder if the jungle mentally has been internalized by those whose education has not been focused on critical analysis. I recognize my own bias that is passed along through my own upbringing, but at the same time I want to cling tight to those beliefs that I have come to hold so dear. What is more, is I was deeply moved by the notion that education, if focused correctly, can indeed act as a foundation to start dismantling some of those aspects of culture that are perceived to be "uncivil".
I may not have the answers to the questions raised by this experience, but I am now clear on one thing; intense and serous acts of violence on people that cannot defend themselves, such as homeless kids, no matter what they be involved in, is unequivocally wrong. I make that statement fully aware people may differ in their own values, and fully prepared to defend it.
Oh, the place's you'll go...
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