Kutch arrival

Entry by Daren:

Bonnie has arrived safely in Kutch, which is much cleaner than Mumbai. She does not have internet access where they are staying and working, but was allowed to use a computer in an office to send one email and let us know all of that. She has her netbook with her and expects to post a longer post about the visit in Kutch when she returns to Mumbai this weekend.

An average Saturday

Tomorrow we will be leaving for Kutch, an area north of here. There is a fabric producer that supplies predominantly tie-died fabrics to The MarketPlace and we will be spending a week up there to study his production methods and try to pinpoint specific problem areas. When I write tie-dye it can be easy to think of the semi-psychedelic t-shirts from earlier decades, but these fabrics are truly work of arts and nothing like the t-shirts. One of the patterns is made by tying off a tiny amount of fabric that results in a dot size pattern after dyeing. Hanna read that it requires 75,000 of these “dots” to make a sari and the producer here in Mumbai said it takes 2-3 months to create one sari like that. Just amazing! Can’t wait to see it and post some pictures. I am not sure if we will be having internet available, I hope so.

We have our train tickets to a 16 hour, overnight train ride and were a little...eh…”curious” what such a sleeper train could look like, especially after the less pleasant experience we had yesterday. Hanna looked for pictures on line and I read other people experiences. All I can think after that is that it will be blog worthy.

Today we spent most of the day preparing reports. Every week we need to submit various reports regarding our week and I find it at times challenging to translate our experience into a report. After our first few weeks of “Survivor Mumbai” I now feel more like a contestant on The Amazing Race, constantly trying to stay in the race from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep.

True to the reality shows, we too have tasted some of the local cuisine, but we were clearly the winners of this experience. The food is absolutely amazing here. I even like the vegetables!
One of the most common lunch items you will see people bring to work is a sprouted lentil dish called Moong Daal. This dish is eaten with unleavened bread called chapattis and is absolutely delicious and they bring it in these cute little tin dishes. Last week, we were treated to an absolutely delicious lunch which included fried chicken. Here is Shameema’s fried chicken recipe:

Make a paste with red chili powder, pepper, salt, white vinegar and cornflakes. Cover the chicken pieces and let them sit for at least an hour. Then fry (in lots of oil).

To this treat, we enjoyed rice with some kind of delicious, spicy sauce, really good green beans, home-made chutney that could take any sinus specialist right out of business (was really tasty too) and again chapattis. As I continue my culinary journey as well, I will make sure I both get pictures and recipes. Yum!

Just another day in Mumbai

Next week we will be going to Kutch and visiting a fabric producer in Bhuj. We leave Sunday afternoon and take a 16 hour train ride! Our supervisor booked our tickets and did not realize at that moment that my nickname is not the same as the name in my passport. This is a problem. As it turns out, when you travel in India and book any kinds of tickets, you must make sure it matches your identification exactly.

We contacted the railways and asked if they could change the name, but that was not possible. It was also too late to cancel my ticket and book a new one because there were no more seats. Now what!?

I contacted my consular in Minneapolis who knows me personally and explained the situation. I asked them to contact the consulate in Mumbai and this morning I went in and got a written confirmation that I am (also) Bonnie. For that privilege I paid a hefty consulate fee, but at least I should be able to board the train.

We tried to visit the Handicraft Board one more time but again no luck talking to the person we needed. He is now on leave. We were then heading to meet our supervisor at the Ministry of Textiles, something we were looking much forward to. We were supposed to call her and we finallly found a payphone. Unfortunately, she was not feeling well and the appointment had been cancelled.

The train ride back today was really tough. We ended up getting off much earlier because I feared to be caught in the middle of a pretty nasty fight with no where to go. I know I have written about this before, but the rush hour commutes are so ridiculously packed, it is indescribably. The argument started when women on the platform were trying to pull out some of the women who had made it unto the train. I gather that some of the “platform” women’s friends had made it into the train car and they were furious that their friends couldn’t get in. Hanna and I were in the middle. When at the next station even more people tried to board (still don't know how that happened), we were so squeezed and the atmosphere was so bad, I looked at Hanna and without any words we knew exactly what we were going to do. Fortunately, we were close to the doors that faced the platform and we got off as quickly as possible, but not without bruises.

We took a very expensive rikshaw ride back and were mentally really tired. I couldn’t help but to think about the women for whom this is daily life. I get to write about it and on good days chuckle at the insanity, but as I looked at their faces today, it suddenly hit me that they do not get to go home and write about it on a blog, they live it. Every day.

Accomplishing what exactly?

I have made it my personal mission to have the security guard in our building say good morning by the time we go back to the US. Every morning, we come down with the elevator and I say “Good morning” just to be greeted with a look, not even a stare, just a look.

We have in our building alone nearly 10 guards and I have chuckled a little at the many security guards around the city. When I say security guards, I mean the men that sit or stand by buildings and watch life go by. I am not so sure they would be a real asset in case of a real emergency, but they are there, just watching. More important to my field, they are all wearing shirts with some form of “official” patch sewn on the sleeve and that seems nearly more important than the work itself.

In a society that has so many people, I sometimes get the impression that people feel they need to prove that they have a good reason to use the scarce resources they are all fighting for, they need to prove they have the right to exist. Each day I witness them fight for space, some for food, some for shelter, most for the right to be someone and appearance becomes everything. Appearance, such as an “official” patch, is the visual communication that you are someone. Or more importantly, you are not a nothing, something I think most here dread. Trust me, in India, you do not want to be a nothing.

It is maybe because so many people fight for the most basic rights and basic status each day that Indians value friendship and relationships so much. As I have been using the train and bus, I am watching people each morning and evening. Granted, I have written much about the pushing, and smelling and the absolute insanity around the trains. Just today, Hanna and I had to just laugh when one woman tried to yank me out of the way so she could get out of train. I was already in the doorway, on my way out and it would have taken her less time to get out if she had just calmly followed me. This morning I was grabbed by the shirt and nearly shoved out of the train. You have to just roll with the punches and understand that life is so tough for so many, they get this survivor mentality and anybody is perceived as a direct threat.

This value for friendship or acceptance translates into how they do business. This can be such a difficult concept for Westerners, especially Americans coming from a very low context culture. We like to walk in, greet, ask the questions we need to know, and get out of there. Not so in India. Indians value time spent with each other, they want to see that you value them at least as much as your profit or own concerns. They want to see that you are willing to spend the one item we in the West have come to guard and treasure even more than money: time.

As we are getting in to the heart of the task we have been given, we find ourselves in the midst of this delicate dance. At times we feel we have accomplished nothing, just to find out that we have made huge steps forward to getting the information we need. I am learning that “accomplishing nothing” is a cultural concept and that spending time together, visiting, listening, sharing is not “accomplishing nothing”. It is building and slowly we are building trust, the foundation.

I don’t think I can ever get fully used to this type of communication and pace, but I have already learned to look at many things differently enough. Like with so many other things, there must be a healthy balance.

In the meanwhile, I am hoping my daily morning greeting is enough to establish sufficient trust with the security guard that he just might one morning greet me back. Of course, it could also be something as simple as a language barrier. Maybe “good morning” sounds like a swear word in his language.

Rain, rain, go away!

It started raining early this morning. At 3:30 I woke up to lots of lighting and thunder and at 4:30 it started pouring. Since we today would be heading down to Utan where we had been rained out once before, I checked the weather radar and saw that they had had exceptionally much rain. Great. It was going to be another soggy day, “hovering” over puddles.

Fortunately, it stopped lightning by the time we left, but the rain was relentless. In fact, the train had to stop on the rails for a while and by the time we reached Bhayandar, where we catch the bus to Utan, the station was under so much water that we decided we should try to get hold of the producer before venturing out in a bus and potentially get stuck. We asked at the station for a payphone but the best we could understand was that it was outside. After chuckling at the large, red warning signs not to stand close to the trains during the rain because the trains are electric, we didn’t feel like getting soaked in an attempt to find a phone that most likely wouldn’t be working in this weather. So, we went to the stores are across from the station and asked if we could use their phone. They were not very thrilled but we have found that people in general are willing to help, so we called and got the ok.

The ride in an old bus to Utan is really something. At times, I felt like I was driving through the Ozarks, except for the palm trees, loose cows, chickens, and goats and flooded fields. Hm..maybe not so different afterall. Anyway, we tried to convey to bus controller where we needed to go but he had no idea what we are trying to say. We got out the sheet of paper with the address and instructions and before we knew it, the paper was passed through the bus and we receive many different opinions as to where we should be heading. We did manage to finally get dropped of where we needed to be and started walking. True to our experiences so far, we managed to get lost for a little while and soon found ourselves in the neighboring town. We walked back for the third time and suddenly realized we had walked passed his place three times. By now, we were drenched.

We were welcomed with warm, Indian coffee and a great smile. Who could at this point care about a little rain? Zia and his wife Shameema are such wonderful people and answered all the questions we had after our last visit. Then they took us out to the dye area and started explaining even more. They are true artists in their field.

After several hours of intense instructions and trouble shooting, we were treated to a delicious lunch, during which we talked and learned even more. At the end of the day, Shameema took us to a church close by. I am not sure if it is the church they attend or just one she feels close too, but it looked like a Catholic church and was really beautiful. We went in and sat down for a few moments during which she took the time to pray. The church is located right at the beach of the Arabian Sea and I couldn’t help but to wish my own congregation could experience the setting and the view. While we sat in the church, you could hear the waves hitting the rocks.

We might have been back to the apartment a little later than usual, but it was so worth the extra stop.

What a morning.

Life in Mumbai has taught me some lessons in humility. Just as you think you can do it, something new comes your way.

We normally take a rikshaw to the train station and from there on use public transportation. So, this morning we went down to our usual busy intersection and were met with an unusual sight: no rikshaws! I jokingly said that maybe they were on strike. We saw about 4 with customers in it and several with none who didn’t even pull over to tell us no, instead just kept driving by. Kind of odd, but we figured that we maybe were just there at a different time than usual and they would be here any moment. So, we waited.

As time went on, we started looking for a cab, but with same results. We then started asking people which bus goes to the train station, but we kept getting inconsistent information, so we quickly abandoned that idea. Besides, people were literally hanging from the sides of the busses, not something we felt we needed to attempt. Finally, after an hour in the sweltering heat, someone who was also waiting for a rikshaw was told that the rikshaws and cabs were indeed striking!

We went back to the apartment and sent our workplace an email, looked on Google map for directions to the train station and decided to try to walk. We knew it would be quite a walk, especially in the incredible heat that had returned since yesterday, but we had to try to get to the producer today. So, we walked and everything went well until we had to ask for directions. I have so far not found one street in Mumbai with a street sign, so we needed to know where we were at. We chose a large furniture showroom and asked the person there. He spoke English and was very clear in his directions, but we ended up in a neighborhood we really did not need to be in and we bee-lined as quickly and discretely (that nearly funny to write) out of there. All we could think of was to get to an area we felt better about and after taking some unusual walkways and jumping over a deep sewer trench, we ended up close to a mall. We had by now walked over 1.5 hour and really needed to contact our workplace, so we went to the mall in the hope there was a pay phone. After a little of the usual confusion (the phone is there, no there, no down stairs, no here) we made a call to work just to find out they hadn’t made it in either. Then the rain started pouring down. At this point, we were pretty beat and had no idea how to get to the producer. Going to the office instead was not an option either, so we walked all the way back to the apartment.

We decided to use the afternoon to make sure we knew how to get around tomorrow, but it sounds like the rikshaws should be back tomorrow. We were also warned not to even attempt to venture out on busses and trains today because they would be packed. Unlike the other times? Can't even imagine.

First visit

I have come to wonder if the word Fabric Producer is translated into “monsoon” in Hindi. After a slightly disappointing week last week, we were super excited about visiting the first fabric producer and woke up to rain and very dark clouds. Determined to not let a little monsoon stand in our way this week, we got ready and headed for the train station to meet with Pooja.

Pooja was a little delayed and I had hoped that the delay would translate into an easier commute on the train. It did, and it didn’t. I do not know how to describe the fight to get onto the train, except try to imagine that 40 people need to get through the limited amount of space provided by the train doors and then find room inside a compartment about the size of 6 x 12 feet which is already occupied by another 40 people, all this while 20 people are streaming out of the doors and there is only about 1 minute to accomplish all the flows of human bodies. Then you get the joy of being squished, elbowed, smooshed, bent, and pushed around all while enjoying the local flavors of lack of deodorant. It is indeed an experience.

Nevertheless, nothing two women from South Dakota can’t handle, so we got on and after a few stops even got some place to sit. We reached Bhayandar after half an hour ride and from there we caught a bus. This added a whole new chapter to our experience into daily life in India. You can get on either through the front or back door and even if the bus is in motion. Once on, you buy your ticket from a controller who walks up and down to see who gets on. The bus sounded like it would fall apart any minute and took us out of town through narrow, winding streets that really should not have a bus in them. Additionally, the road is full of speed bumps, so the bus speeds up, slows down, speeds up again all while passing the rikshaws that somehow also fit on the same road.

However, the trip took us to a rural village and gave us a whole new glimpse of life in India. We saw rice fields, villages and a whole different pace of life. After nearly 45 minutes we got off in the middle of a village named Utan. I don’t know if we did most of the staring or they did, but it was a surreal moment as we all just stood there. Finally, we found a rikshaw and all of us (Pooja had brought her mother-in-law) piled into a rikshaw that normally fits Hanna and myself and maybe a bag of groceries on the floor. I am learning much about being a space hog.

Ten minutes later we reached the producer and were greeted by the kindest and warmest people you can imagine. Zia, the husband, does not speak English but his lovely wife speaks some, so she and Pooja translated for Zia and us. We were first treated to Indian coffee and then had a great orientation and saw so much how they operate and produce the spectacular fabrics they do, everything by hand! Without getting into too many technical details about dyeing and printing, let me just say that I sure hope you appreciate any batik or block print fabric you might have. It takes incredible skill to produce with the accuracy and speed we demand.

At the end of the day, we returned to our apartment so excited and filled with more enthusiasm to go back tomorrow and learn even more. Tomorrow we are on our own, so commute and language barrier could be some interesting challenges to overcome, but those are tomorrow’s problems.

What a weekend!

I love India!!!! They put mayonaise on their french fries!!!!:-)

So, yesterday I had a wonderful day going out to Elephanta Island and today Hetal, our supervisor, and her sister Dolly took us shopping in Mumbai. We met at the train station and then took a cab to the shopping districts.

As true women, we had to first have a little snack to strengthen us before venturing out on our hunt. I had asked Hetal if we maybe could taste some more of the tradional cuisine and she treated us to a delicacy from a street vendor called Meetha Paan. It was delicious!! It basically consists of a Betel leaf rolled up with coconut, rose petal preserve (gulkand), something that tasted like ground nuts, but not sure. Since I didn't have my camera, I found this picture on-line and it looks just like it! It was soooo good and we were now ready to shop.

If you ever want the cutest necklaces and beads, head to Colaba. There you will find street vendor after street vendor with the most beautiful beads and necklaces. Granted, like any other place in India, you need to be a little bargain savvy or have someone along who is, but then it is pretty reasonable.

After some severe "window shopping", we went to Leopold's. This is a wonderful cafe with the best ambiance and food. But, it is also a cafe with a history. It is there the horrible attack a few years ago started and one of Hetal's friends lost their life there that day. The cafe has left the bullet holes in the pillars and mirrors as a reminder of the horrible actions that day. I unfortunately did not bring my camera today, but Hanna let me have copies of her pictures so I can post them here. Thanks Hanna!

At Leopolds, you not only enjoy a wonderful crowd, fantastic atmosphere but also great food. I did not wear my contacts so I told Hetal to order something for me. She picked the most delicious chicken pieces and.....french fries with mayonaise!!!

The four of us sat there, just enjoying the fun company and great food and laughed. I feel so refreshed after seeing Mumbai from such a different angle and ready to go visit our first producer tomorrow morning.

God is truly good to me!

Elephanta Island

Today was our day of, so we went out to see Elephanta Island. This escape from Mumbai’s dreary grey world is an hour’s ferry ride from the Gateway of India and was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1987. The island is located about 9km northeast of the Gateway of India, in the middle of Mumbai’s busy harbor.

It used to be called Gharapuri but was renamed by the Portugese when they landed on the island and found a huge elephant statue. (The Portugese are also the ones who named Bombay. They saw the wonderful bay and named it “Bom Baia”. Bombay was later, in 1995, renamed Mumbai.)

We approached a beautiful, lush island with vegetation that looked like it was taken out of a picture book. As we docked at a beautiful old pier and walked unto the island, I felt for a few moments that I had gone back in time to an era when India was still the mystical place on earth. Once on shore, we walked up a substantial amount of steps to the Elephanta Caves.

The island features an amazing network of carved out rock caves, believed to have been carved out somewhere between 4th-7th century BC and are temples to the idol Shiva. In the caves, we found enormous statues of this idol, including the the famous Mahesa-murti statue which features a three headed Shiva.

We also saw another idol, which’s room we apparently we were not supposed to enter, so I am not even going to ask about taking a picture. Not quite sure which one this is, but we saw it in another cave too that had an area that looked holding cells. We also saw a large round center area and what looked like a large drain hole. Ugh...I shudder when I think about what might have been going on there.

The island also features a great amount of monkeys and as Hanna found out, do not even attempt to eat on the island because they will aggressively steal it right from your mouth. Fortunately, she was not bitten or scratched but the monkey stole her sandwich that she had in her mouth so quickly, we hardly saw it happen.
We returned to the pier in time to enjoy a little refreshment in a picturesque establishment before returning to the ferry.

The ferry ride home was not anywhere near as pleasant as the one heading out there and took nearly two hours. The combination of the incoming tide and approaching storm made the Arabian Sea just a little choppy. At a certain point, we stood up in the middle of the boat, soaked from the waves hitting overboard and hanging on with both hands because one would not have been enough to prevent possibly falling overboard. A girl from Beijing was terrified and asked me if I knew how to swim. We were glad to see the Gateway of India again.

Still, looking back we both agreed we had had a wonderful day!!

Like a sardine in a tin can

Today we took the train to Churchgate in order to meet an official at the Handicraft Board. After wading through tons of male flesh that did nothing useful except staring, we got our tickets and went to the platform. On our way, we decided to take some pictures of the busy platforms, something we had just been assigned for our internship. I took a picture from the steps and quickly a very determined official told me in no uncertain terms that I was not allowed to take pictures. I apologized and have deleted the photo, but it was not a comfortable moment.

We continued to the platform and waited for the train. As it rolled in, I looked at Hanna and wondered how in the world we would manage to get on. It was just oozing with people. We didn’t. We tried, but had no chance. At least I saw others not making it either, so I didn’t feel too bad.

So we waited for the next train in the hope it would be slightly better. It wasn’t. So, we pushed and pushed and pushed and finally were in. There, we stood for half an hour so close that I felt body parts that do not belong against my body and got really annoyed when the lady in front of me had the nerve to pass gas. Between the gas, armpit smells, stench from outside and incredible heat, it was a most unpleasant train ride. Every time we reached a station and people had to either get on or off, they asked me to move. I would have loved to oblige, but the metal bars behind me didn’t sit so well with my rib cage.

We finally reach Churchgate and started walking. We were told it wasn’t too far but could take a rikshaw. Since we both like to walk and are sick and tired of “sightseeing” with a rikshaw, we decided to walk. And we walked. And we walked.

At a certain point, I noticed the beach and looked at Hanna. We just had to, so there we sat on the storm wall and looked out over the Indian Ocean. That was quite a moment. But, duty called and we continued. We must have asked 7 different people who all gave us nearly the same direction, but in Mumbai, you cannot miss a single little alley and some of the directions were quiet “complete”. Reminded me more of the German’s “immer gerade aus”. Finally, after a good hour or hour and half, we found the building and ventured into the dark, grungy hallway. I felt I had entered an Egyptian tomb and took a right, then a left and another left, just to find the tiny, old elevator. All this for nothing because we ended up not meeting with the person we were going to see.

So, we headed back and stopped on our way at the Bombay Store. This is a phenomenal store with beautiful souvenirs at outrageous prices. More importantly, it was a store with a bathroom and postcards!!! They also gave us great directions to the train station, which turned out to be only a 10 minute walk.

As our day ended with a storm raging through the neighborhood, I cannot let go of the images of the day and wonder how the scores of homeless people are faring in this weather. I just cannot forget a little, tiny boy lying sleeping, nearly lifeless, on a filthy rag on the filthy street, all alone. I don’t ever want to get used to it, nobody should.

Just another ordinary day

This morning, I woke up not feeling well at all. My throat is sore and I just feel icky.

Nevertheless, we left for the train station and managed to us use the commuter train (the "women's express") to get to work. It was packed but we found that people are very helpful and willing to tell you how the system works. There is a certain rotation system so that the people getting on and off can get through.

At work, we found out that we were not going to the producer today afterall, but instead got to meet a social worker that has started working with The MarketPlace the past 6 months. She explained that mental health still has a negative connotation in India. Basically, anybody who needs counceling must be "a true psychopath", as she put it. She has spent the past few months teaching the women affiliated with the MarketPlace about their rights as individuals, how to cope with stress, parenting skills and so many other aspects that are such a crucial part of empowerment. She explained that the biggest problem in the colonies is domestic and substance abuse. She provides both individual session on psycho therapy and groups sessions to teach the women to reach out and be a support for each other.

In the colony, they live so close to each other, but they keep a distance based on distrust, different religion and basically never been taught to create a network of support. I have seen in India in general, because there are soooo many people, there is no privacy. There are always scores of people right there, looking and listening to what you are doing. In the beginning, it was for us Westerners overwhelming because we are so used to outward distance. In our culture, you wait in line, give each other space, and would NEVER on your own start telling how to complete your ATM transaction, especially when nothing was going wrong anyway. But in India, 10 people are constantly in your business, so you have to create an internal bubble, so to speak. Because of this attitude, the women have never considered using each other as a network for support and they are now learning to do so. They hear in group sessions for the first time that the woman two "houses" down has the exact same problems as you and how she deals with it. Great work!!

We also visited another producer group and I still marvel at the concept of the slums in general. We walked through a maze of 1 yard wide paths that hosts hundreds of 8x8 rooms, rooms that are all a family has. The lucky ones have a sheet hanging in the doorway, providing them some privacy, others are not so fortunate and have to share their entire lives in public view. Every time I am in the colony, I am so grateful for the life we enjoy.

Unfortunately I felt too yucky to finish the day and went back to the apartment early. After a nap, my head decided to join the party, but I sure hope by tomorrow morning I am feeling better.

Just another day in India.

Trains

Last night I got bitten in the head by something. I felt a sting and in the darkness and with no glasses, all I could see was something black scurry off my pillow. I have to admit I was kind of “unsettled” and didn’t sleep much afterwards but so far I am feeling fine. Hanna tried to comfort me that it probably was just a spider. I can already hear my family and friends laughing; I hate spiders!

This morning we got up to torrential rains and heavy winds. We were supposed to visit the fabric producer in Mumbai, a visit that has been rescheduled since Monday, because of rain. The plan was to meet Pooja at the train station and she would accompany us today. From tomorrow on, we would then be on our own. We were a little concerned that the producer might have been rained out again, but had no way of contacting the office, so we sent an email and off we went.

The rain and wind decided not to give us any break so we were really grateful that the first rikshaw didn’t turn us down. Still bewildered about this practice, but what can you do about it. Let me tell you, a rikshaw drive in torrential rains is nothing to laugh at! By the time we reach the train station, we were pretty much soaked and whoever writes in the newspaper not to wade through puddles obviously does not live in Mumbai during monsoon season. Mumbai is a puddle!! A very, big puddle filled with nasty water that includes all the spit (the men spit here all the time!), dog left overs (so many street dogs), and other disgusting things.

We bought our tickets to Bhayender and found the area we had agreed to meet Pooja. And then we waited. And waited. And waited. In the meanwhile, we watched the trains and morning commute and I noticed that over 90% of the people were males. It made me wonder how that impacts women’s ability to travel, something already impeded by economic, social, and in some cases even religious reasons. How confining!

When trains came rolling into the platforms, a true chaos broke out in order to have a chance to get on. I am certain that people in Mumbai can walk through each other because I have no explanation how otherwise the multitude of human bodies getting off and on at the same time possibly could fit in the doors within such a short time.

The trains reminded me of whenever I make bread in a shaped form. I will put it aside to rise and forget about it and the dough starts oozing out wherever it can. There are literally people oozing out the trains and one man was hanging on by one hand and one foot and took the moment at the station to rest on the railing next to the train before having to put his one foot back on the square inch that was his while hanging on for dear life! Other trains came rolling in and there were parties going on!! I was trying hard not to envision the ½ or 1 hour morning commute in a sardine can with chanting and tambourines going on. At least the women’s cars were much less packed.

After waiting 45 minutes past our agreed time, we figured we weren’t visiting anybody. We still do not have a phone, so our best option was to return to the apartment so we could send an email to work and find out what was going on. It felt so incredibly good to get out of the wet clothes and wash our feet. We later got an email that Pooja had been delayed because of the rain and had basically made the trip to our station for nothing. We felt awful!! The plan is that we will try it again tomorrow.

A super day!

The saying “When in Rome, do as the Romans” surely must also apply to being in Mumbai. So, when in Mumbai, do as the Mumbaians. I feel we have already tried to live as normal as a life as possible, but we are still facing some difficulties. One of them is the incredible staring wherever we go. Hanna’s blond hair is certainly not blending in so well, nor is our Western skin color. The dress code around here is slightly different from what we understood it to be. The main thing is that you try to do your part to keep the guys from getting a peek at….well, you know. So, short sleeves are fine, tank tops with a wide shoulder strap are ok too, but be careful with the necklines and the armholes. Also, anything see-through or tight is not ok. However, we have a job to do here so I need to figure out how to move on from being the tourist attraction.

Most of the women here wear saris or tunics with long, loose, flowing pants and a scarf around the shoulders, or a tunic with leggings that are so long that they kind of bunch up at the ankles. I went ahead and bought a tunic from one of the production groups. I just loved the hand embroidery work and found in the local store a pair of leggings. I was slightly apprehensive getting dressed this morning because it is so different from anything I have ever worn, but I was willing to give it a try and blend in a little more. I feared however, it might be terribly hot.

It was most certainly not too hot, in fact today was one of the most comfortable days so far. It was, however, a ridiculous look on me but it accomplished the objective.

Today we visited the government agency The Weaver’s Center in Mumbai. They have several centers throughout India and we started with this one. When you visit a government agency in India, you need to add a lot more respect to your approach than we are used to in the US. Our visit started by Pooja calling the Zonal Director yesterday. She explained that as English speaking visitors, we might have received a flat out no, but since she called, the doors were opened and then they don’t mind speaking English. Even though she yesterday had received the ok by phone, she still had to write a very formal and respectful letter on letterhead and bring it with her today that explained who we were and why we wanted to visit the center. Then, before we left this morning, we had to wait until Pooja one more time by phone had spoken to the director and gotten a final ok. When we arrived, we were welcomed and all information was wide open to us. Thank you Pooja for not letting our ignorance close a door to a phenomenal resource!

The center is basically a really well run place that had examples of ALL types of dyeing, weaving, and printing of fabrics. We were not only given a detailed explanation of the various processes but also shown fantastic manual looms, including a jacquard loom. The center is also open for people, including foreigners, to come for a 4 months course in becoming a dyeing expert!! After an extensive tour of the facilities, we got to sit down with the Technical Assistant Director and ask how ever many questions we wanted to. Then he wrote down the numbers of the centers located in the areas we will be visiting and told us to tell them he sent us. Wow!!!! What a reception and help. We are so grateful. We paid our Rs200 ($5) fee and left.

Afterwards, it was time to extend our cultural experience in daily Mumbai life. Pooja treated us to a Mumbai specialty which consisted of something on a bun, bought from a street vendor. I have no idea what it was or what it was called (yes, I asked but between the language barrier and the Mumbai traffic I had no chance on earth understanding what it was) but it was so incredibly delicious. A little spicy, but delicious.

Afterward, she took us to an Ikat store where we bought the most beautiful fabrics for the astonishing price of $7! And then, our final experience for the day: the public train. Pooja had deliberately waited until a time during the day where it wasn’t busy. We got tickets and found out that the trains in India include three cars that are for women only!! Not to keep us women away but to keep the men away. Apparently, there has been some harassment and spitting happening on the trains and the railroad responded with adding cars that are strictly for women only. Love it!

I am glad this was the non-crowded time of day, because as the train ride continued towards our destination, more and more and more and more people boarded. We sat “snug” 4 on a bench that in the US would at the very most host 3 and were at a certain point told to slide over. "Vendors" walk through the cars, selling anything from jewelry to candy. I also found out I am definitely taller than the average Indian. Nevertheless, the experience was great and we managed to get home with a much cheaper mode of transportation than the rikshaw. Hopefully tomorrow morning will go well when we meet Pooja to head out to visit our first fabric producer.
All in all, a super day!!

Time and fees

Time concept in Mumbai is something I really struggle with. The general principle is that we will plan it for tomorrow, and if it doesn’t happen, well reschedule, maybe. We’ll see. This is a place that requires extreme patience.

Last Friday, I was supposed to go to a bank that doesn’t charge a fee for exchanging traveler’s checks. Friday morning came and I was ready: brought my passport, copy of my passport, traveler’s checks, list of banks that would do this (thanks Daren!) and……nope. We’ll try again Monday, maybe. Eh, no, I really need to do this. Monday came and the answer was “Maybe”. I had to get a little assertive and off we went. As it turns out, the bank that initially told our supervisor on the phone that they exchange traveler’s checks apparently doesn’t after all, so I was sent to the ONLY place in all of Mumbai (somehow I doubt this) that could change them. A hefty fee later, I had at least exchanged them. If you decided to travel in India, use your debit card to take out of the ATM. Much easier, much cheaper!!

Hanna and I were so incredibly excited about visiting our first fabric producer today. We arrived at the office and were ready to get going when we found out that he was rained out. We can’t get there today. Great. Now what?

We decided to try to utilize our time visiting something called the Weaver’s Center and see what resources they might have. Apparently, you cannot just go there, you have to make an appointment. OK, so no big deal. Pooja called for us and found out we can go there tomorrow. Oh by the way, because we are foreigners, it will cost us Rs200 to get in. Each. Just love Indian fees. India may seem cheap, but by the time you add all the fees for everything, you are nearly out the same amount. Between rikshaws and groceries, Hanna and I have spent $200 each in one week, and trust me, we are not buying lobsters.

Anyway, the schedule for this week is right now as following: we will hopefully spend the day at the Weaver’s Center tomorrow and on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday we will stay with the fabric producer. It is actually too far to travel each day, so we have been invited to stay with him and his family. For a fee, naturally.

In the meanwhile I found out that my train ticket to Kutch is booked under “Bonnie Junker”. Since you need to show ID, in my case my passport which says “Anne-Marie Junker”, my ticket is suddenly no good!! And you guessed it, there is no changing it, I have to cancel and buy a new ticket.

Language lessons

Except for “thank you” and “hello” I do not speak any Hindi and I don’t think this would be an easy language to learn. Body language, however, is another story. Here are just some of the observations I have made.

Indians have a really interesting head movement that initially threw me off completely. The best way I can describe it is a bobble-head movement that resembles a shaking of the head but only the chin moves from side to side. Because it resembles our body language when we negate a statement, I took it initially as a “no” or disapproval which really didn’t match the context of the conversation or setting. Finally I noticed the difference between this head movement and a regular shaking of the head and realized it had to mean something different. It is an agreeing sign, not quite the same as a nodding of the head, but more an agreement to the conversations or context although I have also seem some use it identically to our nodding in agreement.

It has also been really interesting to watch the body language of actors and especially music videos. The plots are consistent: girl is very pretty and playfully independent, boy notices girl and tries with tricks to get her to dance. If girl is a good dancer, boy is even more interested and needs to keep her attention with even better dance movements.

The women in India are most definitely a text book example of hedonic power. Their power stems 100% from appearance and results in a type of bartering power. The prettier they are, the more powerful men they can attract and in this way influence their surroundings. Men possess a type of agonic power. I say type, because it is not always a power to acquire goods or power, but to perform tricks and seem popular, although some shows clearly hint towards a classic agonic power as well. “Seeming” is everything in India and the visual factors that result in “seeming powerful” at times make the interactions and behavior seem childish. But, the better tricks he can do, the prettier women he can attract which in return reflects well on him.

Another thing that really stands out is how everybody is desperate to stand out and be somebody. I guess with so many people, there is a huge scarcity on resources, including attention and status. This seems to result in a strong need to be the one who knows, the one who can, the one with the power. In order to seem this way, they are loud or pushy or resort to the, at times ridiculously obvious, tricks to appear to be the go-to-man.

This all is in such stark contrast to the overall belief that the greater good is more important that individual glory.

Much of the language is also mixed with words clearly rooted in English, but with a distinct pronunciation. I haven’t heard much of these English words from the women in the Maratha Colony, but more so from lower and middle class Mumbaians (is that even a word?). Especially in the stores, you will hear sprinkles of English throughout the conversations. From what I had read before leaving for India, was that English was spoken in many places throughout Mumbai, but was still clearly reserved for the luckier ones with an education. I was amazed, however, how many kids in the Maratha Colony spoke very good English. More contradictions.

Saturday

This morning started out with a massive cockroach kill!! We found nearly 10 huge ones right next to the bed and after screaming loud enough so the entire 20 floor apartment building were hearing our war cries, we went on a hunt, a licensed-to-smack hunt. After all the smacking and crunching came the question: what to do with the carcasses? We were not about to put them in our little trash can so that our eyes had to see them every time we through something out. So, out the front door they went in the hopes the winds would carry them to cockroach heaven. When we checked a few hours later, our plan seemed to have worked, unless the caretaker decided it was just simply too gross.

Unfortunately, it left us with a horrific thought what might be under and behind our bed…….ugh.

We decided to scrub the apartment one more time and after several sweaty hours, we took our well deserved ½ minute shower, which hasn’t been there for several days by the way. I have had to resort to washing using a faucet about a foot about the ground in the bathrooms.

We spent the afternoon catching up on rest, emails, research, trying not to think about having to sleep in the potentially cockroach infested bed and reading the local newspaper. According to the newspaper, the monsoon is finally here and will work its way up over the next few days. The showers we have experienced are apparently just an appetizer. Next week will prove interesting. Hanna and I decided to get some monsoon shoes. Can’t wait to show you!

We popped down to our new found sanctuary (HyperCity) and found the most amazing bread and chocolate cake!! I know my stomach will make me pay for the extreme chance in diet but it was worth it!!

I also wanted to make some fried rice for supper, so I needed safe chicken and eggs. While shopping for eggs, we found out that eggs are not refrigerated. Can you imagine our reactions when we were pointed toward the eggs sitting out in a warm area? The frozen chicken was, like every other frozen item, only semi frozen. I knew Mumbai has a severe power problem and that became evident when waiting in line. Just like that the power went out (fortunately the cash registered somehow still worked) and it became unbearingly hot within minutes. Looking around, people seemed to be used to this so we rolled with the punches too.

Life is really different here.

Pizza!

Oh for pizza!!!! Who would have thought that in India I would appreciate a Pizza Hut pizza so much!! Last night, after a really tough day, we found the In-Orbit Mall and on the top floor a food court. After a week of “Survivor Mumbai”, we were not too concerned about cultural immersion and there, right in front of our eyes, was a sight so beautiful: Pizza Hut!

One look at each other and we knew we were going in. Laughing silly at both the thought of going to India and eating pizza and at the same time a little nervous about our stomach’s reaction to the greasy food and uncertain quality, we readily ordered a pizza and two sodas. We devoured it in minutes and greatly enjoyed the soda. Life was soooooo good!

Afterwards, we went to a new grocery store, The HyperCity, right next to the In-Orbit Mall. There we found frozen vegetables, yoghurt, fresh fruits and…..a hair dryer!! I thought I would easily be able to do without a hairdryer for a few weeks, but Mumbai pollution and the wind when riding the open rikshaws is horrible. So, I caved in and got the cheapest I could find. We’ll see how long it lasts.

Because I hadn’t had the chance to exchange my traveler’s checks that day as I had hoped to do, we searched for an ATM. Why does everything in Mumbai have to be unusual? Hanna’s transaction was aided by a friendly “Mumbaian” who gladly looked right over her shoulder, telling her what buttons to push etc. I tried to cover her as much as possible when she punched in her PIN but the thought of everybody knowing exactly how much you take out it a little nerve wrecking feeling. There is just no privacy here.

I guess we will just keep focusing on the results and in the meanwhile laugh it off.

India - after one week

Well, today we have been here a week and have completed our first work week as well. I cannot believe all that has happened in just one week and on the other hand, in some strange way, it feels like we have been here a month.

India is a tough country. Initially, it seems like the poorest and dirtiest place on earth where everybody is just out to scam you or get you. Indeed, India has staggering poverty and Mumbai is so incredibly polluted and I am sick of people constantly trying to scam me. But, what I am learning is that we like to present India as the poster child of all the things we are not and that is where we are incorrect. Our culture has the exact same negative qualities, but we have learned to hide them because we do not like the messy part of life. And life is messy. In India, all these qualities are much more visible and I guess that is why India is so tough because it refuses to hide that which human nature is capable of accepting. They have instead allowed it to be part of daily life and learn to work with it. People expect to bargain, to argue, and to see horrific poverty.

They also accept that people are from various backgrounds and social classes. Whoever thinks the caste system is gone needs to come to India and read the local newspapers. I started reading the paper every day to help me acclimatize and get a feel for what is going on in the area I live in. I stumbled upon the marriage proposals and was reminded of the conversation I had with Priya on the airplane into Mumbai. She and her husband were explaining to me how in India marriages are still to a large degree arranged by the parents. The parents look for a suitable husband for their daughter and the couple can then decide on their own if they agree. The marriage proposals in the newspapers are all classified by which caste the potential groom or bride is in. Hetal, our supervisor, just got married a few months ago and she chuckled in that wonderful manner of hers when she said that she had intermarried. The caste system in still at work in India and will not likely go away any time soon, especially because it is so closely related to the predominant religion that teaches to accept the life you are in and do good deeds so you can be reincarnated into a better life. The only thing the law has abolished are the public negative reproductions of the caste system.

I am not saying that India is the model to strive for or that we don’t have anything right. Hanna and I were just talking about hygiene yesterday and how we so incredibly appreciate the hygiene standards in the US. We like showers (and longer than ½ minute) and we are freaked out by seeing raw chicken lying in the sweltering heat along the filthy, polluted streets of Mumbai, waiting to be fried up and eaten!! There are more profound differences than just showers. There are benefits to try to clean up the visual aspects of life and we do have better social protection systems than what I have understood India has. All I am saying is that India is not the complete opposite of our culture, even when it might seem like a hyperbol.

I have found that Indians value family very much. There is an incredible respect for elders and ancestry and Hetal explained that even though most people are born somewhere else than where they currently live, they make it a point to learn and remember the traditions and language of the area they are from. I noticed that children are loved in India. Even in the poorest areas, where little ones have no more clothes than what they were born with, mom and dad are loving and caring. I witnessed little ones walking with dad, barefooted, probably to some hard work place. Dad noticed a little one was getting tired and kindly picked him up and cuddled him. Another little one had to climb up a ladder in one of the houses in the Maratha Colony. I guess he has done that so many times, but dad carefully watched that he made it up safely. All I want to point out is that there is a lot of love in this country, expressed in places we might assume have little chance for it.

I guess the lesson about India is to assume you know nothing when you first visit this country, because there is no way to accurately convey the richness in their traditions, culture, and ways and if we compare them to our own, we will naturally consider our ways the standard for the quality control. I tried to prepare myself as much as possible before leaving and quickly found myself reading contrasting information. I now understand why.

Thursday Junw 10

Today is best described as a typical Indian day: when you are down, just hang on because right around the corner is something so heartwarming to pick you up. When you are up and think you have it all figured out, watch out: right around the corner is something ready to tear you apart.
The day started early with another serenade by street dogs (I am not talking about Elvis singing “Hound dog”) and two fat cockroaches in the apartment. I really don’t like cockroaches, especially the ones that are big enough to feed an entire ant colony! We then left for work and already the fiarst rikshaw was willing to take us to work. When we arrived, we noticed the paddle lock was still on door so we waited by the bus stop we once waited at before. And we waited….and waited…and waited….in the extreme heat and humidity and hardly any breeze. After nearly an hour we saw Pooja walk by and nearly ran to join her in getting in. That’s when we found out that Hasina-gi had been there the whole time and the door was already unlocked. The paddle lock just stays on and makes it look like it is still locked! We learned to never assume.

We are preparing for our upcoming visits with the fabric suppliers. Next week, we will be visiting with the supplier in Mumbai. Two weeks later, we are heading out to Kutch and two weeks after that we are heading to Indore. To get to Kutch you need to take a train, so today we booked a ticket to a 16 hour train ride and we have reservations for a birth in a compartment with 8 others. Except, it is not actually a compartment and knowing Indian style, it won’t be 8! This could be a long train ride!

Once we arrive, we will have the opportunity to visit the fabric supplier in Kutch and gain an understanding of his production method. I look very much forward to visiting with all the suppliers and seeing firsthand how they production facilities work.

During the afternoon we had the opportunity to visit with yet another production group and afterwards the children’s center again. The kids there are so incredibly lovable and welcoming. Today, they were planning a party for tomorrow and we have been invited. Then they spent their little money on buying mendi(henna for the hands) and lavishly decorated our hands. They walked us back to the office, holding our cameras so our hands could dry. Rupa is 13 and walked next to me. I thanked them for the wonderful time we had had and she told me that now that we are friends, there is no thank you or sorry. What an outlook!! She was completely astonished that my husband let me dress the way I do (trust me, I am covered much more than I wish to be in this incredible heat and humidity). I decided not to enlighten her with my usual dress code and just told her I had a very good man. We walked a little and she then asked if she could call me didi. This means sister.

On our way home, it finally happened. The rikshaw broke down and he started talking as if I had any idea what he was saying. Finally, an English speaking gentlemen came to our rescue and explained that I owed him Rs 110 and would need to find another rikshaw to continue my trip. I have learned over the past week that in India, you need to be firm and assertive. I told him that I had made it to and from work for Rs 82 and would not give him Rs 110. We settled and we found another rikshaw to finish our journey.

In India you cannot afford to be weak. You must learn to stand up for yourself and at times even argue. Not my strong points but I am here to learn and I will add that to my plate. It might be a challenging trip for me, but God is truly good to me.

Life in Mumbai

Let’s talk a little about daily life skills in Mumbai.
Traffic in Mumbai is most certainly not for the faint of heart. It is immensely congested, loud, and unbelievably chaotic. When you enter traffic, you feel more like you are entering a “running with the bulls” event. They honk their horns from the moment they start the engine and continue until they have reached their destination. There are actually painted lines on the roads, but I am sure they are only there to employ a couple of guys for a few hours while painting them because there is absolutely nobody who even makes the slightest hint of paying attention to them. They continually swerve all over the road to find that slight advantage that might help them get ahead of the other guy…..all 16 million of them!!
We have taken a rikshaw to work and back and it is really an experience I recommend; if you don’t mind some occasional hairy moments. You need to imagine a soupped-up riding lawn mower with a seat up front for the driver and one seat in the back that Westerns would consider enough space for two. Indian style, it fits at least 6 with little children on the laps or even on the side bar. This expanded lawn mower then takes you through the insane traffic in tight space barely wide enough for the front page of the local newspaper and you start wondering if you life insurance has been paid up. Somehow, like the rest of Mumbai life, it all works out and you enjoy a 50km/hour ride to work. Through puddles…that splash up. I thank my dear husband for many things but especially for insisting that I bought and brought that dorky plastic poncho.
It takes a few moments to figure the meter out because it has two black numbers and two red numbers. To me, it looked like the black numbers were the Rs and the red the paise. That is not the case. In order to accurately read the meter you can do either of two things: read the black numbers, multiply by 10 and subtract 1. Or you can ignore the black and red colors and also ignore the number furthest to the right and then subtract 1. Sounds complicated but in fact simple, once you know. The fare on this meter was 89 Rs.

We haven’t quiet venture out on busses and trains yet, for one because the rikshaw is so handy. The only difficult thing about the rikshaw is that for some unexplainable reason they will stop when you pull them over and you tell them where you want to go, and then they shake their head and leave!! At first, we thought maybe it was just us or our “unique” destination but that is not the case at all. In fact, Hetal told us that it will take her up to 20 rikshaws in the morning to finally get one that actually takes you. But enough about traffic. There are other “pressing” issues I really feel you need to see.

Maybe one of my more unusual pictures, but welcome to an Indian toilet!! I just had to show you because so many have asked me about it before I left and I am sure the topic will come up again when I return, so here it is. I am going to leave the details of operations up to your imagination but Hanna and I are buying plastic flipflops tomorrow! The bucket of water is to flush, by the way.

Speaking of water, we have quickly learned that Mumbai suffers from a severe water problem. No kidding! We have, hopefully, enough water to do the dishes once a day, and two ½ minute showers. This, by the way, also explains why there was a 50 gallon tub with water in our bathroom when we arrived. People are apparently used to stocking up water for the time when there is none. I just can hardly wait….

And on to housing. As you can imagine housing in a city with so many people is extremely scarce and the prices astronomically. The Golibar slum, or more specifically the Maratha colony, is considered the posh amongst slums and I start understanding why. The housing is mostly concrete, kind of, and consists of an 8x8 foot room. That’s it. Many of these rooms house families with 6-12 children. How they fit is a mystery to me, but the greater shock was to find out about the prices for these rooms.

I asked Hasina-gi today about rent in the slums. As it turns out, she lives in a 8x12foot room in the Maratha colony! I had no idea. She told me that for the priviledge of renting an 8X8 you pay approximately Rs 6,000 per month after a hefty little deposit of Rs 20-30,000. I was shocked and asked how they ever could afford it. Hasina-fi told me that many of the tenants work are therefore able to afford the rent. I start understanding the posh-part……kind of.

Any finally, family additions. I have just been torn apart by the sights I have witnessed. I can hardly take it to see a family live on the dirty sidewalks of Mumbai, the lucky ones having a plastic sheet to huddle under. I see kids that are condemned to animal like existence and I wonder how they feel or what they think. The organization we are working for has explained that so many of the women they hire have to first be instructed about basic understanding of life and their own bodies. Some come from such deplorable conditions that they have never reached levels much higher than survival. As I drove by these gut wrenching situations I witnessed women pregnant and I wondered how and where they would deliver their babies. I feared it was on the streets or hidden in some awful place.
Hasina-gi explained to me that they can go to the hospital and that a new law this year actually gives them Rs 1,000 for the first child and Rs 800 for the second. By baby #3 you are on your own. I was so relieved to hear that they were cared for, at least for the delivery. Brings a whole new meaning to a baby shower.

There are so, so many things I want to share with you and yet by the end of the day only some of them come to mind. I guess it will have to come out in bits and pieces as I go along. For now I can only say, God is truly good to me!