Thursday, June 23, 2011

Village Trip

The day after the visit to the HIV orphanage, we were taken on our rural exposure trip to the Yellachickammanahalli village.   Again my expectations were far worse than reality.
We first stopped at the village school to meet the children. We brought them art supplies and jump ropes as well and they were just as excited as the kids the day before. The classroom was very small and the tables and stools were all on the floor. The children did not speak much English at all, but we were still able to communicate through smiles and play.

We then took a tour of the village where the homes were. The homes were actually all concrete built and well kept. In fact the entire village was very clean, even with the dirt floors, and water buffalo and cows hanging out everywhere. Inside the homes there was one big room, where mats would be laid out for everyone to sleep on during the night. We sat in there and had a chance to talk with some of the local women. Throughout our conversation we asked the women if they had ever been to the city, in which case the majority had not, but honestly, they didn’t care to. The one woman who had been to the city was not impressed. She thought it was too busy and crowded.  

That’s when it hit me- the people in the village actually like living in the village. Here I am having pity on these “poor people who barely have electricity or a bed to sleep on”, when really I am just being ignorant. They are truly happy with their lifestyles and simplicity. They have close relationships and as one lady said- whenever they are bored they just walk next door and visit with each other. Who am I to feel sorry for them? They have a way of life that is working for them; a way I think we could all afford to learn from. 






They were pretending the bricks were cars



Monday, June 20, 2011

just a little safe haven...



Laughing, drawing, coloring, jump roping, shooting hoops, playing games, and eating candy- pretty much sums up my afternoon spent with some awesome local Indian kids. These kids were smiley, happy, affectionate, and did I mention HYPER? Oh how hyper they were! Any child that may have been shy in the beginning ditched that at the first sight of mango candies being passed around. Like all kids, they had a hard time sharing and taking turns and fought over who got the yellow marker next. However, there is something that separates them from other children their age. The very something that has triggered our visit today. Most of them are orphans, and all of them are HIV positive.

They have found a home at Snehadaan Centre- an orphanage/school for children who have been diagnosed with HIV and have lost both or one of their parents, left with no one able to care for them.

When we first planned the visit to the centre, I was anticipating a run-down, small building filled of sick children with very little resources. This was definitely not the case. The facility was large and modern, surrounded by a lot of greenery, gardens, play grounds, and even animals. There were times I forgot they were even sick. Were they even sick? I couldn’t tell. They were filled with life and joy, all speaking English impressively well. They were ecstatic about the jump ropes and loved showing off their skills.

 But then I’d take a step back. Look a little closer, listen a little closer, and I was reminded. Their skin had rashes, scabs, and sores. One little boy moaned in pain when he was slapped on the back by his friend. He unbuttoned his shirt to show me little red bumps scattered across his chest that apparently covered his back. But he was strong and after a few more gasps of pain grunted through tightened teeth, he assured me he was fine and continued playing.

Some of their eyes would flash a sense of sadness when they talked about their parents or siblings. Their overly need for affection and attention was evident in the way they held on tight to any hand they could grasp. Others were quiet and reserved; coloring alone and staying away from all the commotion. By their lack of a uniform, I could tell those children were new to the school-new to what will become the rest of their life.

The stigma that surrounds people with HIV or AIDS in India is sickening and heartbreaking. It’s a disease not accepted here on any level. Families and friends are shunned by not only the community, but those closest to them as well. People are ostracized, rejected, ridiculed, and verbally and physically abuse to such extremes that they aren’t even safe walking on the streets. The epidemic is only growing because people fear being socially isolated, so they don’t seek medical treatment.

Women have it even worse. They are more discriminated against than a man with HIV and even a married woman who has been infected by her husband will be accused by her in-laws. Women are not even protected through the healthcare system. It is so incredibly corrupt here that a man can have his wife tested without her knowledge and even if the woman’s results come back HIV negative, he can pay the doctor to say otherwise.

When seeking treatment comes with risks this high, it becomes clear why there were so many innocent children surrounding me that day. It breaks my heart to look at those kids and think of all the added struggles they’ll have to face throughout their entire life. They were born without a clean slate and
without a fair chance at a normal healthy life. But they have found a home…a little safe haven.. a place where they can fit in. They’ve been given a chance at an education, friends, and hope.

I feel blessed to have been a part of these kids’ lives even if it was just for a day.   

*to protect their privacy, we weren’t allowed to take any pictures of the children where they could risk being identified. 





Saturday, June 11, 2011

Welcome to the Jungle

                      A few words to sum up my weekend in Coorg...

No sleep

A love/hate 3 hour hike

Blood-sucking leech attack (explains the "hate" part of the hike)

Gorgeous view & green mountains ("love" part of the hike)

Homemade Coorg Wine (4 for $8)
Drinking the homemade Coorg wine (can't put a price on those good times)

Being thanked for killing Osama Bin Laden

My friends being introduced to someone who called himself Osama Bin Laden and then as Bill and his friend as Clinton. "Hi I'm Bill, and this is my friend Clinton"

Play time with the Elephants!!! (high light of the trip)

Waterfalls

Tibetan Monks

And the bumpiest, craziest, i can't-believe-i'm-alive  9 hour ride home.

The group at the top of the mountain

Picking leeches out of my shoe
We did it!



Katelyn's leech wounds




  
All in all- damn good weekend :)

Friday, June 10, 2011

Monsoon So Soon?

So Monsoon season came a little early this year. The roads may overflow, our kitchen may flood, and are clothes do get drenched, but hey we're embracing it and dealing. Welcome to India.


The video of our kitchen flooding wouldn't upload.. check out my facebook for front row seats to the premiere. oh and excuse the language. my roommate was just really shocked

Monday, June 6, 2011

Sorry Saris



Last week our whole USAC group was invited to attend a Christian wedding. Being a formal invite this time, we girls wanted to dress up for the occasion in traditional Indian saris, so we asked Ms. Florence if she would help us out in the shopping department. After being taken through twists, turns, back alleys, and up a couple flights of stairs we entered this tiny little shop. Before entering we had to take off our shoes and once inside we took a seat on this huge padded floor. In front of us were shelves full of saris! After this young boy brought us water, the store owner began throwing package after package of saris onto our laps. Any color and any style we asked for, he had something to match. It was a complete pretty woman moment, Indian style. Going into this, I knew I wanted to go outside my normal earthy color scheme I seem to always be drawn to back at home. It’s India! I want to go all out with color and bling! One after the other, the girls began trying on their saris, each one prettier than the last. Finally I chose one to try on and it was even more gorgeous once unfolded and draped over. After being served a cup of tea, we were measured and fitted because they were going to sew it in position so we wouldn’t have to worry about figuring out how the heck it is supposed to be wrapped.  
We weren’t able to get our saris until the morning of the wedding and we were at class all day. We finally got home around 3pm- just enough time to freshen up, get dressed, hail a rickshaw, and get to the church by 4:15. Ms. Florence made it very clear to not be late! Should be simple, since our saris were made ready-to-go, right? Wrong… so wrong. One by one, we tried on our sari tops and none of them would button over our chest! 

After much panicking and on the midst of surrendering, I realized we had to pull ourselves together. If there was anything I learned from countless re-runs of Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model, it’s “make it work” & “be fierce”. Also smize (smile with your eyes), but that didn’t really come in handy at this moment.

So, we each assisted each other in some major tugging, pulling, and squeezing and finally success! Well, that’s an overstatement. Success in the sense that we were able to at least attach the first three latches, which was enough to make it through the night, hopefully. After having a neighbor come over and wrap us up, we ran down to the gate where Becca had hailed three rickshaws to take us to the church. Since we’re white and obviously foreigners, the rickshaw drivers continuously refuse to use the meter and instead pull out some crazily overpriced number as the cost for the ride. After trying to bargain with them, we gave in (as always) and took our 150rs ride to the church. Or so we thought was to the church. Instead they dropped us off at what ended up being the reception location. At 4:25, we began running across the street and around the corner trying to ignore all the laughs and stares we were getting on the way and asking every possible person where the church was located. This seriously felt like a scene out of a movie, not real life. Everyone seemed to think it was here or over there, but finally across eight lanes of traffic we saw the sign! By this time it was after 4:30 and we had no other choice but to just go for it. So saris pulled up, we dashed across the street, weaving in and out of cars, praying just to make it to the other side.
Sweaty, hair a mess, make up melted off, and best of all alive, we arrived just as the bride was pulling up to the church. Right on time.   
The Bride just arriving


 Oh I'd also like to mention a song the boys in our group made up. Sing this to the jewish wedding tune...
"White girls, white girls in saris, they just don't look right"
"White girls, white girls in bindis, they can't get rickshaws"



  

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Wedding Crashers


After a full day of some good ol’ Indian shopping, my roommates and I were making our usual walk back to our apartment when we came across this huge flowery sign being put up. Curious, we stopped and asked the men what it was for and they simply replied “wedding”. My heart jumped! An Indian wedding is exactly on my to-do list for this trip! Is this for real?? Excitedly we began pestering him for more information with three specific questions; When is it? Where? And….. Can we come?! 

While exact details were still unclear, that “Indian head bobble” of a response was enough to send us rushing home, change into our Indian attire, and head back just as the sun began to set. Only when we returned, it wasn’t at all what I was expecting. It was an empty street.

Where were the crowds of people? Where was the bride and groom all decked out in gold jewelry? And where was Julia Roberts observing from afar?

Note to self: Do not watch movies like Eat, Pray, Love for pre-trip research

Minorly disappointed and a bit confused, we optimistically continued down the path and came to this beautiful, tall, white building with lights strung all up the stairs. Loud Indian music was coming from inside and many of the Indian people walking by gave us strange stares as we stood staring at the building debating whether or not we should attempt to go in.  Finally we decided to take a vote and send one of us in to get the “low down” on the situation. So, unanimously, we nominated our tiny little blonde roommate, Kaitlyn, to take one for the team. Within minutes she was up the stairs and waving us in.

Once inside we were greeted by a chubby man in a gold shirt with something painted across his forehead-it basically looked like a band aid with a red dot in the center. He welcomed us in and brought us to our seats. Inside the music was even louder, the colors were even brighter, and we were even giddier.

A lady (who turned out to be the groom’s sister) came over to us and explained what was going on. Apparently the wedding is about a three day event, and tonight was the blessing/reception ceremony. People could come in and give gifts and blessings, eat and leave. As we were talking, this beautiful old wrinkly woman covered and pierced with gold jewelry walked over to us and began speaking Hindi. The groom’s sister translated saying “This is my grandmother and she wants you all to have dinner before you leave”. We felt honored and graciously accepted. So after watching the bride and groom make their rounds throughout the building, we were guided to the basement where there were rows and rows of tables with a banana leaf and cup of water placed at each seat. Then the food came…and came... and came and did not stop coming. Men continuously were walking by with buckets full of food, plopping huge amounts of each onto our leaf.

All I can say is thank goodness Jacob had taught us proper banana leaf etiquette the day before. We knew to sprinkle water onto the leaf to wash it and then to eat only with our right hand. People from all the tables were staring at us as we ate and the lady next to me helped me through by gesturing what to eat next. 

By the end of the meal my mouth was on complete fire, but it was worth every moment and every bite.   

Us with the father of the groom


The grandmother (on the right) and her sister

Dinner time!

She helped me survive the dinner with as much grace as possible.

The huge announcement outside the building