Integration tutorials, Jazz Festivals, suspected rabies, a Women's Rights March and turning 24

The two weeks since our weekend away have been relatively uneventful. My school timetable has ballooned and is now packed with lots of individual supervisions.

I’ve been covering some English 1:1 tutorials and have been entrusted with some of my own (more rewarding) maths sessions. More recently I’ve been asked to teach year 12s integration, possibly a greater challenge than anticipated but good to keep me on my toes! I have started to appreciate the rewarding side of teaching too. One of my pupils, Montu, a teenage boy who is described as constantly looking stoned, has finally grasped long division! Literally made my week.

Weekends have been spent attending school sport fixtures and cheering the boys on. This in itself usually attracts more local attention; resulting in Future Hope sports teams having quite a fan club, or at least a lot of Indians watching their game! The sports are held on a large open green space in the city known as the Maidan. Originally used as a hunting ground, it now acts as one of the only large parks in the City and draws some parallels with Richmond Park, London. No deer or running yummy-mummies here though.

Maidan with the VIctoria Monument in the distance.

We’ve also discovered some of the larger markets, both local traditional market stalls and the brand new, American-style shopping mall, Quest. The latter is home to a western supermarket selling freshly baked bread. On discovering the bakery section I quickly purchased a large multigrain loaf and am quite ashamed to say I demolished it whole. My western cravings were bad that day!

The same day we found ourselves chilling out and dancing with some of the locals at a Jazz Festival. Set at one of the many country clubs in the City, we found ourselves dancing to an American Jazz band until 10:30pm (entertainment finishes early here). Even at the club we were of more interest than the band to some of the guests, with a couple of people trying to slyly video our dancing. Luckily one of the volunteers has learnt the helpful phrase, “Don’t video us, we’re not a circus” or words to that effect. I could have understood if they wanted to capture us playing air badminton (badminton without the equipment) but no one took any interest during our energetic rally on the lawn!

Jess, Georgie, and Alice at the Jazz Festival. Jess is our new addition and handily fluent in Hindi.

The school is in full preparation for the end of term school fair, or Mela as it is referred to over here. It’s a whole-school, fund raising event and all the students perform routines, whether it be singing, dancing or circus acts. They children put on food and game stalls and even make arts and crafts to sell. I’m looking forward to the entire thing coming together. Wanting to be the best volunteers we can, the 7 of us have decided to perform a medley from the Jungle Book. The initial deliberation over song selection took quite a long time and a lot of thought, always wanting to ensure there weren’t colonial/ racial/ religious references. Oliver, The Lion King and Jungle Book were about the only 3 that made the cut. In addition to our medley, the four girls have decided to attempt a popular dance from a famous Hindi Film. This led us to dancing until the early hours one morning, repeatedly watching a Youtube tutorial video and constantly saying “What on earth did he just do then?” If you want to know what some of the routine will look like, check out the song’s official video. Our version will have less champagne and skin on show.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7k_U1ZXybo

India’s national motto should read, “The best laid plans of mice and men....” Saturday 7^th looked to be a really exciting day: lunch with the middle school boys, an afternoon Hindi dance class, Indian cinema in the evening finished off with a night out for the big 24! Instead I spent 8 hours in a hospital with one of the other volunteers who had suspected rabies. Although not what I originally planned, it was still an experience.

Bureaucracy had raced us to the hospital from the train ticket office. We spent the first 40minutes filling out various forms in a room ironically titled “Emergency”. Had it been a real emergency (which arguably suspected rabies is) I suspect the pace of progress would have been just the same. “Excuse Miss, place your severed limb here while you fill out these ten forms..... No Sir, the heart attack can wait. What was your postcode?” The time taken from arrival to injection of the rabies jab was 6 hours and 41 minutes. Luckily Georgie wasn’t foaming at the mouth.

Saturday night I found myself at a rich young Indians house party. Here it would seem most men, or rather boys, think the best way to impress a girl is to brag about the amount of pot you have smoked and where to find the best joints. Needless to say I find this whole performance quite repulsive and a real bore. But once most other people had drunk and smoked, the dance floor opened up and the party was much more my type of thing. Don’t worry mum I’m still going with the whole T-Total trend to stay on the safe side and you know I wouldn’t even touch a cigarette. And Jemima – I found a crazy Indian dancing friend. They loved the parachute move!

Despite the 3am close on the previous night, we were up at 7am on Sunday to participate in a “Women’s rights March” in Kolkata. Being white, Alice and I were photographed a lot and were even interviewed by the Telegraph newspaper (Kolkata version). We made it to the front page of a supplement section; I was expecting a bigger spread.

I spent my birthday teaching, and supporting the school athletics team at an inter-school tournament. In the evening we went out for a much-craved Italian dinner with the friends, finished of with a sampling of drinks at out third country club in Kolkata, The Saturday Club. Fantastic day. Lots of children wished me happy birthday; each on their own is worth a hundred presents, and a few even made small cards and paper presents. Its a birthday I'm unlikely to forget! 

Hopefully the final two weeks of term will fill me with more satisfying teaching moments, and memories with the kids that I’ll treasure for years. My time is passing so quickly, I’m already planning my return trip!  

A random weekend on the coast, part II

On Saturday we travelled from Bhubaneswar to Konark on a local bus. The 65km journey which cost 45p saw a bus, which comfortably would carry 30 passengers, heave 80+ locals plus us 4 white girls along the country roads. No exaggeration. The bus conductor affectionately referred to us as mousey for the duration of the trip, apparently translating to “Mother’s sister”. We’re going to check this with a local before we start shouting it in the streets.... The conductor spent a lot of his journey shouting over the many heads “Mousey, mousey. Good?” A thumbs up from me and the basic Hindi words “Chella, Chella”, translating to “Go. Go.” got the seal of approval from the other passengers. I dealt relatively well with the heat and continuous crushing bodily contact; the moment the bus slowed to watch a husband and wife knock seven bells out of each other was extremely uncomfortable and one of those sobering moments I’m grateful to be born into the society I am.

Alice squashed on the bus, and Georgie in the back ground. "Mousey Mousey!"

Konark is home to the incredibly impressive sun temple, constructed in the 13^th century incorporating engineering way ahead of its time. A guide led us around the spectacular site for 2 hours, divulging lots of stories and legends whilst also doubling as our protection from the many requests we received for photos. The temple was again littered with thousands of karma sutra carvings, including some along the theme of zoophillia. I won't quote our guide completely but the sentence started, "here is woman standing, here is dog.....".
A short 3km tuk tuk drive down the road led us to the coast and a completely unspoilt seaside village. The whole village were playing their role: men returned from the day’s fishing and heaved the boats onto the shore; women carried the fish from the boats to the small trucks on top of their heads; children collected the discarded fish. I say fish but there was an array of different species which could have easily competed with a fish market counter. Shrimps of all sizes, eels, sword fish to name a few. The sun was setting and so we took a rather uncomfortable 23km tuk tuk journey along the coastal path twisting through conservation areas.

Puri was out final destination. Initially a small fishing village, it is now one of India’s four most holy pilgrim sites in India. We watched the sun rise before heading to the town’s main attraction, the huge Jagannath temple. Being a foreigner we weren’t able to enter the temple but instead were able to view it from an arguably better vantage point which used to be a library. Old book shelves and the crumbling architecture show signs of its previous life. We could have stayed there all day, proving an excellent people watching spot from where very few locals noticed us, and, as such, went about daily life unchanged. One distressing sight was an old lady laid out in the middle of the road begging, obviously suffering from starvation. There is no escape from the poverty.

Looking out over Puri in the Library. I'm on the left, Alice centre, and Georgie right.

We checked out all the other major tourist sites before retiring to the beach. Camels replaced the traditional British seaside donkey rides and locals played cricket using anything they could for wickets and bats. Georgie and I decided to take full advantage of the Bay of Bengal and went swimming, fully clothed I hasten to add. We are still in India after all. This attracted much curiosity, particularly when my top went see through – luckily I had a swimsuit on underneath!

We enjoyed an evening of cards and tasty food, caught fresh from the sea before jumping on our return sleeper train back to the smog of the city.

We’ve already started planning our next weekend away. One exciting trip I've got on the horizon is a 14 day trip with 6 of the pupils from Future Hope which is taking place over Christmas and NYE. We're trekking around Darjeeling and the Nepalese boarder mountains. It means I'm unlikely to get phone signal over the holidays but hey, when in India....

A random weekend on the coast, Part I

It’s hard to believe I’ve been in Kolkata for just 2 weeks but already I felt the need to escape the congested city.

My three travelling companions for the weekend were my flat mates (Charlotte and Alice) and another volunteer, Georgie. Planning for the trip started a few days in advance; let’s just say purchasing train tickets in India is a little different.

First foreigners must visit a special office in the city a few days in advance of their trip. Here we were given a master class in bureaucracy. We filled out lots of personal details across a strange paper form, then had to sit with an agent for 30 minutes while he used an ancient computer to find available trains. The system was intriguing if not a little ridiculous. 60minutes later we’d purchased return sleeper train tickets for a grand total of £5.05 each!

Buying our train tickets, L to R - Alice, Charlotte and Georgie.

On Friday evening we found ourselves on Howrah station boarding an old but sturdy-looking Indian train along with what felt like half of Kolkata’s population. Luckily we had reserved bunks but those travelling 2^nd class seating fought for their space in other carriages. Although they queued relatively orderly for India (mainly thanks to the heavy handed guards on duty), as soon as the carriage doors open they flooded into the cramped spaces like ants swarming a nest.

Bunks were piled three high and totally open to one another. Beds consisted of a 0.5mx2m plank covered with a polyvinyl sheet and the toilets reeked. “Basic” would be too complimentary. The rhythmic rocking of the train eventually knocked me off to sleep.

We arrived in Bhubaneswar around 5am. Apparently its the state capital of Orissa; the only possible reasons we saw for this prestigious title was either the density and quality of its temples or the state is home to little else!  We watched the sun rise over one of the many temples before treating ourselves to an Indian breakfast of puri and curried chick peas taken at a roadside street vendor; this was about as normal as this day went.

We headed off on a tour of the city's temples, first the 54m high Lingaraj Mandir dating back to the 11^th century and features several statues of Lions trampling elephants, apparently a symbol for the superiority of Hinduism over Buddhism. Whilst wandering the walls of the temple the local boy scouts led a protest calling for “liquid soap”; not an unfair demand if you ask me. We found ourselves on the most colourful street in India, littered with many cows and a lot of rubbish. Every house was marked with the names of the married couple housed there. 

Next to the oldest temple in Bhubaneswar erected in the 7^th century and home to a very sexual priest. We naively started talking to him as he seemed pleasant enough. Quickly he led us to the karma sutra carvings on the temple buildings, the phallic symbol of Shiva (one of the three main Hindu Gods, known as the Destroyer). At this point alarm bells started chiming. One thing led to another and he was inquiring whether or not we enjoyed sexual activities and propositioned us to group sex. We declined and exited the temple promptly. 

Temple tour with the questionable priest.

Onto the random but interesting Tribal museum and finally the city’s zoo, home to white tigers, leopards, black bears and many more. We took a trip on the highly recommended “White tiger safari”, costing 50p. We saw 4 out of the 5 Big Five within about 10 minutes during the whistle stop tour, though oddly no white tigers. Truly a hoop jumping exercise but comical in its own way.

The other random events of this day included me dropping my leggings and knickers 3 floors onto a drain out of our hotel bathroom window. I attempted inquiring with the neighbour as to the then unknown whereabouts of z clothes. This involved me standing on the toilet calling in English for help through a small window which probably only revealed my face. They definitely thought I was crazy. I eventually had to climb through a neighbour’s window in a very unlady-like fashion to retrieve them. Another two events occurred at the zoo. The first on entering the zoo. The four of us all fell victim to a bird poo strike –it either had incredible aim or diarrhea. The second occurred on exiting when we aimed to capture a photo of the four of us in front of the zoo. Instead about 100 Indians got their own photo of 4 white girls while we were unsuccessful in obtaining our own copy!

(more photos on Alice's Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alice.a.thomson/media_set?set=a.10151863308723789.1073741836.515408788&type=3)

Part II will take us to Konark, home of the sun temple. The local transport turned into a real cultural experience including a new nickname of "Mousey", lots of bodily contact, and witnessing domestic violence.   

The Haves and the Have nots

Saturday was spent doing the touristy bit, visiting the colonial Victoria monument and Kolkata`s answer to Richmond Park known as the Maidan. We watched the Future Hope boys win a local cricket derby match before investigating the inside of the monument. As is becoming the expected norm, I was photographed hundreds of times. One older local man, Joy, befriended me so he could practise his English. This involved be talked at for about an hour. Once the light had faded and my stomach was calling for its daily dose of dhal, I made my excuses and left.

Sunday turned into a confusing experiential roller coaster. We fulfilled our Sunday duty by accompanying the girls to a local book store to read stories before heading back to school to play games and read some more.

Alice and I had an afternoon invitation to another day scholar`s house, Jai. He is the head junior prefect and is the only member of his five siblings to attend Future Hope. He feels a great pressure to secure good grades and as such a good job to support his family in the future.

His home was a bus ride away, giving me my first exposure to the Kolkata public transport. The journey, which cost 6p took us into the poorer districts where the streets took on a whole new stench. Jai`s house was relatively substantial. Spread over two floors and connected by a metallic structure which doubled as stairs. Each step was spaced 30cm apart with a decent drop between subsequent 15cm bars which were supposedly steps, A vertical rope hung from the ceiling and a questionable banister were there for support. It makes Grandma Griffin`s stairs seem child friendly!
A scrap metal obstacle course formed a pathway to the door where his father and brother earned an income for the family. Having arranged a meeting time for 3pm we assumed we would go for a little chai and a meet and greet. Oh how wrong we were. The family had simply delayed their lunch until we arrived. Lunch would be an understatement. The feast left Alice and I feeling like the fatted calves! The meal of puri, curried potatoes, solid lassi and an excessive number of sweets left us bloated and feeling dodgy.
On rolling out of the house, we went on a walk around the local area. This included a visit to a chai pot making factory, or rather a 3x3m room containing a huge heap of smoking dried grass draped over thousands of tiny pots, doubling as a kiln.
Next to a Hindu temple where we observed prayer and then we're asked to join the congregation for yet more food, sweets and a questionable white sweet liquid. That churned my stomach even more. 

Alice and Jai's family

Back to the family home to finish of the feast with chai and then onto the next event.

Just a 5minute bus ride along the road from our afternoon tea, the Bee Gees tribute night was all about excess and over indulgence. Fat Indians in western clothes drank and ate to fill their oversized stomachs while the Canadian tribute band played some classics. It felt like the scene had been plucked from a Cambridge Ball! Culture shock.

Bee Gees

This evening I am taking the sleeper train to the coastal towns of Bhubaneswar, Konark and Puri where in the latter there is a beach festival! I'll tell you all about it in the next entry.

Muharram and my first taste of a slum

The first week continued along the most random but exciting path.

Not a month goes by in India when there isn't a festival. Thursday was “Children’s Day” celebrating the children and thus the future of India. As a treat, we watched a Hindi film about dyslexia which I understood a surprising amount of.

Our evenings and dinners are spent at the various boarding houses around the city. The children are divided into 6 houses: 2 girls and 4 boys. It gives us an opportunity to see more of the city and chat with the children in a non-academic environment. They are all incredibly house proud and as such the grand tour is compulsory. Many have roof terraces which give spectacular views over the surprisingly high rise skyline of Kolkata.

Our own accommodation is of relatively high standard. To quote my much more articulate room mate Charlotte, “The flat is charmingly shabby chic. Damp plays a large role in the decor but provided that the ceiling in the corner of the room doesn't fall down because of it, it shouldn't be a problem. We have a little kitchen, a nice large sitting area with 2 biting-bug-infested sofas, a tv and a washing line, a small bathroom and a large bedroom which the three of us share.” 

The Bedroom. My mossi cubby hole to the left and Charlotte having a small rest before the evening's activities. 

Back to day to day life. The fifth day took me deep into the heart of the Islamic community. The New Year festival, Muharram, is celebrated in the most fascinating way. First Alice and I visited the home of Sumeera, a day scholar’s. The room which plays home to 7 family members was roughly 2m x 5m, and contained one queen size double bed which spanned the entire width of the house. There was also a small cooking area, a filing cabinet doubling up as a set of drawers and randomly a small bald baby chick which has since been eaten by a neighbour’s cat! 
As a guest in an Indian home you are treated (and fed!) like a God. We were given sweets (oversized sugar lumps – Elsa you would love them), juice, potato chips, Bombay mix and somosas. All delicious if not random when combined together. Several extended family members came to witness two white girls in the family home, probably the greatest disappointment of their year. After chai, which I am becoming quite impartial to, we got ready for the Mela, or festival. This involved Alice and I swapping our discrete earrings for some incredibly long and dangly ones. Not my usual taste but TII, This Is India. The earrings weren't a temporary loan, oh no, they were a present for us to wear every time we return to the family home.
We left the house appropriately decorated and fell upon the parade. The first float involved a scaled model of the Titanic, complete with smoking chimneys and fish swimming around pool in which the ship sat. The locals were very keen for us to get involved and soon I found myself with a drum around my neck setting the rhythm of the night. They quickly retrieved the instrument on realising my lack of ability and originality. Onto the main street. We were hounded by cameras and requests for photos but our hosts kept us moving. The wave of intrigued festival goers followed us along the main road through a channel of oversized colourful flags. The Muslim community were out on mass celebrating with dances, food and stick combat- inflicting real pain on one another as a way of apologising to the hurt they inflicted on their God. 
After a short time we escaped the crowds and headed onto our destination for the evening, dinner with the middle school boys.

Unbelievably this wasn't my only home visit during my first week. The next blog will explain more but Sunday turned into a truely Indian day with the "Haves" and the "Have nots".

Arrival into Kolkata

Morning all! 

I've arrived safe and well, potentially thanks to the Indian Catholic priest I sat next to from Doha. Before touching Indian soil I'd received my first invite to a family celebration.

I'm quickly settling into the bustling city of Kolkata. What a place. For the golden members of this post the living accommodation is basic but safe. We're in a guarded complex with about 500 other Indians; we're probably the only whites. One bedroom for the three of us girls (Alice and Charlotte) and as the new comer I am on the mattress on the floor. I've made it homely with the addition of the much needed mosquito net and extra padding from my sleeping bag. 

On my first night the girls took me to a local vegetarian outlet favoured by residents named Govindas where I received my first taste of curry. Its going to be a long 6 months of dhal and rice! Not as unbearable as I expected. 

First day, in fact no everyday at school has been great. Its home to about 200 kids, spread over 13 classes. They range in age from 5 - 20 years old, the majority of which are boys and all taken from the streets. Many live in boarding houses as they have no home though some attend as day scholars from the local slums. The common factor is that they all have nothing and just need a little bit of love.

As a volunteer my main responsibilities include helping to teach the kids read in English, assist in language teaching classes and (best of all) running around burning their energy either through sport or games. We eat lunch and dinner with the children, always rice and dhal. Its a good day when we get an egg! And there are no knives and forks, only my right hand. So in addition to the many mosquito bites that are littering my skin, my finger nails are stained yellow.

The streets are dirty and yes it smells but Kolkata is already starting to feel like home. I've had an amazing first week, the highlight of which was an invitation to join an Islamic family for New Year celebrations in their neighbourhood. I'll explain more in my next post and try get some photos!

Lots of Indian love 

xxx

P.s. keep your messages coming, its always good to hear from you all