A two-week intermission

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A 2-week intermission:
December 27- January 9, 2011

Hi everybody. Sorry about the delay in updates, but I came down with what we are calling the AV flu- a virus going around that seems to last a week or so, affecting head, throat and stomach. On top of that, B had it the week before, as did our host. I thought I had dodged it, but I was wrong. So I’ve decided to condense two weeks into one because this past week has really been not very fruitful (as far as adventures go). I did get some fieldwork data on healing herbs, and worked out another step in interviews, and got some reading done, so it wasn’t a wasted week: just low in the engaging narrative category.

On Monday I started reading One Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka, since some of the farming and forestry communities here refer to it in their promotional literature (and one farmer whom I may end up working with before my year here is through told me “You must, man. All of this here is based in his work”- although this guy also told me it was all based in what was learned of local farmer’s knowledge, too. So maybe he’s just enthusiastic, and speaks in superlatives. In any case he knows a lot about the local environment, and is quite a personality).
I started reading One Straw Revolution a day after I wrote what may become a sort of paper about the origins of agriculture and what I’m calling ‘the metaphysics of fear’- kind of a thought-piece on the role that lack of trust, and fear of uncontrolled variables, seem to come out of a practice that exchanges gathering and freedom for long, hard work, being tied to a single location and ecosystem, and in the end, not very much assurance to alleviate uncertainty.
Fukuoka talks in his book about fear too, but a different kind. Still, like any book with a multiplicity of messages I got a sense of synchronicity about the whole thought process. For the record, it is an awesome book. Here is why I think so: Fukuoka went from agricultural research to pioneering a reversal away from the very work he was doing: away from chemicals, monoculture, industrialization, and even fear, towards simplicity, clear thinking and trust. He puts a lot of clearly stated philosophy among the techniques he teaches, and with my life-long interest in Zen and other Eastern philosophies, it rings a bell with me- although I think it is an accessible book for anyone. It is written simply, and is not very long (I finished it quickly). There is no padding, just one man talking about a revolution in his way of thinking that in some ways revolutionizes thinking about agriculture.
It is a quick read, but I took my time and took breaks from it to absorb some of what he was saying. It’s a better book second time through, because you can focus on the messages implicit in his simple prose. Messages about farming on a personal scale- gardening or even a small couple-acre spread, as well as philosophical points that, like a good stew, is satisfying and gets better for settin’.

On the 26th I went to Revelation, where I did very high impact work: finding and clearing around the ebony and other hardwood saplings that had been planted at the forest edge last couple years. As you may know, the edge of a forest is a dynamic place: trees that love the sun are sprouting up, through low scrub (mostly moulou hereabouts) and thick grassy plants. The seedlings are slow-growing hardwoods, and they love the sun, but being planted on the edge of the forest (they are planted here to expand to the former range of the native TDEF: Tropical Dry Evergreen Forest) they have to compete with the faster growing plants that specialize in choking out the fast-growing competition. These little TDEF plants don’t stand a chance- which is why the forest couldn’t come back easily on its own. So I hunted through the moulou and the sorni grass (sorni= itchy in Tamil) to find these slender saplings, clear the weeds around them, then use a mix of cut dried grass and freshly slain bodies of the aforementioned weeds to build up a mulch-pile that would hold moisture and feed the plant while retarding more weedy growth through the coming dry season. I then went into the forest a little ways and removed some creepers from some of the inner forest saplings until it was time to go home.
I worked mostly in the nursery on Tuesday. We moved some seedlings around, and filled bags of soil in preparation of the next seedling planting cycle. It looked like rain, and in fact it has been raining even though rainy season was supposedly over a couple weeks prior. Up until now, people have been saying some variation is normal, but this rain is coming down like monsoon sometimes. It’s got people talking. They say last year was like this too, but people from even under a decade ago say the weather is different, and the old-timers are certain that things are different.
Here’s the thing: AV has a microclimate, due to the trees. This makes it cooler in this specific area. In fact, in AV we may get showers, while just 6 kilometers away they’ll get none. Trees bring rain is the message (thanks to A. G. Gold for that quote from her work in Northern India), and AV has trees. But the rain that has been coming in is not always ‘microclimate’ rain- its heavy, and coming in from the sea the way the monsoon does. We don’t know what to make of it, just that it is there, and a fact.
The next day I did low-impact work in the nursery, planting vanilla into pots to be sold at the nursery and talking a lot with some of the French national residents of Revelation. We talked a lot about many things, which helped pass the time when I ran out of vanilla and just filled bags with soil.
Another thing that happened on Wednesday: a friend from the US called! Imagine our joy and surprise when the phone rang at 7pm and it was our friend from Indiana, KN, who managed to figure out the international calling thing. Thank you technology, and friends!

On Thursday I blew off work- I’d not been sleeping well, and decided to take a “Beryl day” and hang out with B. Also, it was a little rainy, and often rain = no work. We ended up buying a book, The Snakes of India to figure out what we’ve been seeing. So far I’ve seen: a Dog-faced Water Snake (common, mildly venomous)- that was the grey snake B thought might be a viper; a Beaked Worm Snake (uncommon, safe)- I found this guy in the garden on Friday, recognizing that it wasn’t a worm somehow, although I wasn’t 100% certain. I picked it up, it was cute, cool and dry like a snake should be; and an Indian Rat Snake (common, not poisonous)- this was the 5’ long one we saw our first week or so here.
Friday at Verité was brought to us by the letter “P”: “P” is for: power struggle; papaya; passion fruit; planting; props; and peacocks pecking pumpkin plants… I have been put in charge of the papaya trees and passion fruit planting because the woman who heads the gardens and landscaping can’t do it all, and she feels that there is a sort of passive resistance to her idea to plant and tend more papaya trees (the kitchen uses a lot of papaya, so if they can grow it, there will be less money spent from the kitchen for that). Local wisdom has that papaya are barely worth eating, and the shallow roots make growing them a losing business because they topple in the cyclones that come with monsoon twice a year. I set to propping up some of the leaning trees, and to transplanting some of the seedlings that were growing up wild nearby into the garden, where they will get tending simply because of their proximity to ‘desired’ crops, like okra (called ‘lady’s fingers’ here), Chinese cabbage, and long beans. Also, the other garden volunteer, a Korean woman, planted pumpkins- we discovered that peacocks love pumpkins: we saw a pair of them eating the leaves even as we watched.
After work on Friday I took my snake book into the bakery to show our hosts the snakes we’ve seen- he likes to see and she, like many women hereabouts, is terrified- although she likes to joke about her fear of snakes because she has told us several times that she knows it is an irrational fear. A man from Germany was at the next table, and asked us to I.D. a snake he had taken a picture of just that morning at the beach. It had climbed a brick wall, and was just hanging out almost up at the ceiling. We couldn’t find it based on the picture, so he emailed the author and told us he’d let us know what it was. B used her Photoshop skills to reduce and crop the pictures so they could be sent over AV’s limited bandwidth. We saw him just this past Wednesday- the author had sent an email back identifying the snake as a ‘color phase’ of a Common Wolf Snake (common, non-venomous). Neat.

New Years’ was, like here in the states, noisy. The Indians do love their fireworks- past two in the morning even. This of course sets off the dogs, and… so, anyhow, we expected not to sleep too much. We didn’t sleep too much at all. We went out to La Terrace for lunch, and got a dose of the tourist season here at AV: a huge crowd that made lunch not arrive until an hour after ordering- this at a place that usually gets your food within 10-15 minutes. Wow. We found a long, orderly line, too, which is a change from the throng that usually crowds the bar where you order and pick up. The line I think is a good idea; we’ll see if it holds up after tourist season. My intuition says not.
We did manage to get a table under the Senegalese Mahogany tree and ended up chatting with some of our AV friends. It turns out that one of them, a woman who is part of a team that recently took over the farm near where we are staying, saw a UFO on New Year’s night/morning. She and some friends watched this for some time, and she gave a good clear description. Another cool thing happening here at AV, she thinks, while another friend tried to rationalize, without dismissing, the event. It was a good conversation day that turned to metaphysics, randomness and divine grace before I started to get sick- yep, my New Year started with the virus I mentioned before.

Sunday we were going to go to a workshop called “peas vs. pills” but my illness, ironically perhaps, made going to an all-day workshop on health through eating not happen.
Monday we had to go to the RRO (also the FRRO- Foreign Resident Registration Office) to complete our paperwork. Supposedly. I had doubts, as you may recall. As I predicted we need to come back- the man who’s job it is to sign papers didn’t sign ours. This after B had called on Friday (because our slip said to come in on the second, a Sunday) & was told to come in on Monday @ 9:30. We were early, after a b’fast at Le Morgan & a cab ride with our driver from our arrival in Chennai (!). Still, we waited. They opened @ 10:00, & we were told that the supervisor (above mentioned man) wasn’t in. After B explained (catching me with a hand on my knee) the woman then took our passports and told us to come back at 4pm. This, at least, we expected.
I was jumpy and excitable. Pissed a bit, really. I got over it.
We went out to get a rickshaw to the Goubert market: the place we had gone before. I think we’re learning Pondi a bit: I found that shop we love right away. We bought a few more gifts (ok, a bit more than a few). Laden with goods (including a couple extras for the people we knew we were forgetting) we got a rickshaw to the Sri Aurobindo ashram. When we arrived it was almost noon, past 11:30, we determined to come back @ 2 when they re-open and instead got some food and walked about.
I forgot to mention ‘street vendors,’ i.e., beggars w/ goods. These ladies (& some men, but the men sell purchased products) are, I believe, part of the local outreach: These women are taught a skill- in this case, cloth bag-making- and then they go out and ‘sell’ them, with stories lifted from begging, i.e., my baby needs food, school, is sick etc… men sell maps of India and the world (not very good ones) or other trinkets, some of these probably are hand made now that I think of it- there are bracelet-mobiles, a fake snake in a basket, other things.
At the waterfront we sat & ate fruit salad of papayas and pineapple & watched the waves. The trash was thick, but not as bad as the Indian side (the Ashram is in the cleaner & quieter French side). At one point we were walking to look past the new statue of Gandhi (which to me looks a little squished- more squat than what I think of as normal) we were hounded by a little girl in a torn shawl, her littler brother too. The mother was carrying a child & pretending not to notice her child’s behavior. In spite of this little girl’s pleas for Rs, and of her hunger I couldn’t help notice her bright eyes, clear skin and healthy teeth. I suspected professionals, and warned B to guard her bag as the two kids circled us with an unbroken litany of begging.
Part of me wants to be compassionate: a couple rupees is nothing, even to me, an unemployed graduate student. The other part of me knows (having spent some time among beggars and such) that some of these people are perfectly fine, and are begging not out of need but out of laziness-because its easier than working and white people often will toss a few rupees- and its easier than the admittedly hard work (for little pay) these people do. B bought a bag from a different woman who was travelling about with her daughter, for about the equivalent of half a day’s woman’s’ wages (about a dollar US). I do give to the crippled, if I have the coinage. I am suspicious of the women, especially the women like this one with three kids and a professional demeanor. I’m also more cynical than B, and I love her for her lack of it, too. It is a still-unresolved problem I wrestle with, to an unsatisfactory conclusion. I would have more to say, about how the system in place perpetuates the begging and poverty which are merely symptoms of greater, more vast and impossible social ills… Anyway:
We turned back after determining there was nothing after the statue & we were sick of the children. We ate at a seaside restaurant – the vegetable biryani was spicy & B’s cashew rice was salty-bland but hearty. She had a lime soda & I had a pomegranate juice that tasted like they put the whole pomegranate into the juice squeezer, and then sweetened w/ syrup. It was fabulous. I had started the day with a migraine threatening, and it was starting to come back, so I took an Excedrin and we set off for the Ashram.
There is a ‘Samadhi’ of Sri & the Mother in a courtyard under a huge service tree. I didn’t know, but suspected Sri was buried under the cement and marble rectangle covered in a complex and beautiful flower arrangement, a darshan (offering) I think. We were instructed to remove my hat & be silent on entry, then in the courtyard we left bags near a watchman & circled the Samadhi –like I said, I suspected he was interred there. Spontaneously, as we circled the Samadhi, I bent at the waist, folded my hands into an offering position, and placed my forehead on the cement/marble. I was empty and perfect, for that moment. After, we sat for almost an hour, just sitting as most came and went around us. There was one woman: Indian, obese & sick, who circled the Samadhi a few times, resting her head in prayer, wheezing and in obvious but uncomplaining pain. Another, looking like a West and Indian mix, was ostentatious in his devotions but also passionate. I watched the service tree, hearing songbirds, parrots, squirrels and crows, but not seeing the songbirds.
It is quiet, both internally and audibly. The place fosters meditation & makes it easy. I wanted to really hug the tree, but maintained decorum, merely placing my hand on it. B did the same- she told me later she had the same urge.
We went into the ‘press room’ & bought some books & two picture sets of Sri & the mother: one for us, & one for Kim W’s friend back home. We also discovered, through reading the posted notices, that both of the gurus are in the Samadhi. Nice.
After that we went back to the shabby little café (the one I didn’t tell you about) we had stopped at before & had Nestlé milk coffee. From there it was a rickshaw ride to the RRO where we learned the supervisor hadn’t been in to sign our forms, although we were entered into the computer at least. “Come back tomorrow, or this week, after 4.” We decided to come back on Friday, and also buy ourselves new bicycles to use while we are here. We’ll sell them when we leave, and it will in any case be cheaper than renting.
So we then waited outside the shabby, dirty and car-and-motorcycle-exhaust stained building for an hour and a half for our cab. Tourist season. Hmpf.

On Wednesday I had a sort of appointment to go see an archaeological dig here at AV: a Tamil archaeologist is excavating the remains of some warriors they have found here on AV land. It looked like rain, very threatening, and we couldn’t find him. After searching a bit I reasoned that a dig in the rain was probably a bad idea and he probably had already covered up, packed up and gone home. I’ll try to catch him again- easy I think because he is also a teacher at the schools in the villages that are run by our host family.

On Thursday I felt worst I had all week, and just stayed around the guest house, keeping myself slow and rested as best I could.
All that rest prepared us for Friday, when we went back into Pondi. I fully expected further run-around, and to be told to come back next week- at which point my ethnography would be about the small dismal environment of the RRO Pondicherry office. We asked by our host, since we were going into Pondi a bit early, to pick up a framed print. We agreed. Then, when the cab showed up, he gave the receipt to a man who was supposed to drive into Pondi with us. The driver, it turns out, had never driven stick before. Probably never driven a car before. We were still going along with it, but we had severe misgivings, especially after the driver killed the engine several times, and made as if to drop the transmission too. Once out of AV, the ‘guide’ introduced us to his brother, then disappeared after telling us his brother knows Pondi better.
Fortunately for us, the brother, whom I shall call Guide II, was eloquent, a native Tamil AV member, and gracious. We went first to the RRO, where we were told to leave our passports, and come back after 4:30. We then set off to find the shop where this picture had been framed. Turns out the shop had moved, so the address on the slip wasn’t valid anymore. We saw Pondi from the upper balcony of Nehru street before we found the shop. The picture in question, a very nice one of the Mother sitting with Nehru, Indira Gandhi and others under a map of India, was about 5’ X 3’. It fit in the back seat, but barely and only with the windows rolled down. It was then time to buy bicycles.
Guide II took us to “Honesty Bike Shop” where we found a mountain bike for me- for a couple thousand Rs less than I expected, and a bike for B at the same price. However, they didn’t take Visa. I went to three ATMs, ready to give up, before B convinced me to try one more: the one we have gone to before. It worked there, so apparently our bank cards only work at National Bank of India.
My bike would be ready tomorrow, so rather than have the truck come twice we said we’d pick up both of them tomorrow. As we were talking, the bike technician tried to get me to give him a tip- by directly asking for it. I pretended not to understand, while Guide II squirmed and was a bit evasive. Afterwards, we quizzed him about it. He said he was ashamed- he had taken us there because he thought the owner would be there and give us a good price (he had recently done a large order through the shop). Instead, this technician was openly asking for a tip before even doing his job! He considered it begging, and told us that he worked his way up in AV without asking for tips.
Anyhow, we drove to the RRO, since it was now 4:30 and the RRO was across town. We got there late, and waited with all the people who had gotten there on time. All of us sat in that dismal room, with no-one at the desk, or even telling us what was going on, for about 20 minutes. Then a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache picked up the top paper and, looking around before settling on me, called “James?”
James is my middle name. I got up, saw B’s application next on the pile and told him he had my wife’s too. A couple minutes later we had the coveted signature, a stamp and an admonition proclaiming that our visas are “non-extendable” and we were on our way.
We made it home alive. Outside of Pondi Guide II took the driver’s seat and drove us the rest of the way, after telling us he was “afraid, actually” and “very ashamed.”
He still took his 400Rs though.
We settled up with some light conversation @ GB. We talked about camping trips, and B told our hostess about some of our experiences at Wisteria with the shrines in the forest before we retired for the evening.

Friday saw us waiting for the truck at 10 am. After yesterday’s experience, we were very leery, and ready to bail out if it was a repeat of the same experience. Fortunately, the truck driver was skilled and, we found out later, fluent in English. In fact, he teaches Tamil as well as owns the truck. Nice guy. our host was coming into Pondi too- he was going to use the truck to bring back some more stuff for the bakery, since he usually goes on motorcycle and can only carry back so much. Some of this stuff included supplies for the school.
Our bikes were fine. We got some minor adjustments done, and then, as I expected, the begging. It happened like this: the man had finished adjusting the seats, we had bought a pump, and gotten a few extra valve caps, so I gave him a 100Rs note. He looked at me and said “two bikes”, motioning for more money. I laughed, I’m afraid, and said “that’s 100 Rs!” He pointed again at the two bikes, so I said to him “no, you say ‘nandri’!” (“thank you”, in Tamil). The shop clerk, our driver and the rest of us laughed. He did too, having the grace to at least look a little ashamed of himself.
Its not the 100Rs, really, it’s the temerity (which we see here in the USA often too) that you should get extra just for showing up and doing what you are paid to do. On top of that, a tip is a gift for service done satisfactorily- not an obligation. This is the same kind of thing that makes union construction workers (for example) demand super benefits, compensations, super-overtime and a very high wage (comparatively) no matter the quality of work they do. And… well, I’m sure some of you understand where I could go with this. Mini-rant over.
We did a little more shopping, finding a couple woven reed mats for our floor and some contact solution, plus two towels- which B has been jonesing for in a big way. After our host loaded up some rice powder and other heavy things we set off for home. Arriving at GB, we unloaded the truck and sat to eat. Immediately, we saw a driver using B’s bike as a resting post! Unsure what to do- we know Tamil have different ideas of private property, we teased the man a bit. He went elsewhere for a while, but he was getting some deliveries, and B’s bike happened to be where he needed to wait. We decided he wasn’t hurting the bike any, and set back to lunch (with an occasional look to be sure there wasn’t any monkey-business going on). Finally, food done, we put the bikes in the yard and repaired back to the room to write and relax for a bit. I’m sure you will all see the beautiful new bicycles on B’s FaceBook once she gets that all posted.

I had spent the rest of this week alternating between feeling ok, and sick sick sick. Blecch. I did get caught up with some of my ‘looser’ notes, and have managed to get some rest. I simply had to wait it out while I took care of myself, and the virus worked its way through my system. It took B a week, and I had no reason to suspect I’m more special than she is (in fact, I know better ☺ ).
As for now- it is a beautiful Sunday, we are both feeling better and I am really looking forward to work this week at Revelation and Verité. B & I are just finishing reading Sri Aurobindo’s Tales of Prison Life- so far excellent: he is amazingly erudite, and still accessible even with the philosophic bent to the text. I’ll post our reactions next week. We are going to spend today lazily frolicking on our new bikes and sipping coffee with friends here at La Terrace (but not at the same time). I hope you all have had a very good winter holy-days season, and we send you love from India.
Peace,
Stacey & Beryl

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Comments

[Frédéric Juaneda]

Comments on a nice and long post
Hello Stacy and Beryl, For sure you like writing and that's a nice gift for people staying abroad. Thank you. Hope you are feeling better now, both of you. I was sick myself on mi-December 2009. It lasted 10 days and was a pain but in the end it looks like I gained some protection through it. Anyway it is possibly a good thing I am out actually but back very soon. So I have a good idea about the way you feel actually... I recognize some people here and there, especially when talking about permaculture. Yes, an impressive guy this one running Solitude. I should have a try reading Fukuoka myself because it reverses the usual approach we have thinking we have to improve what nature does. And a very pertinent note is about reminding us we were not needed for quite some time and nature never suffered out of it! On the very contrary as we can witness it everyday pitifully enough... Adding to this that when modern science came out it was precisely with the idea of improving what was felt to be an uncomplete and unachieved creation that man had to carry on to its very perfection. No less... We see the result as I pointed out before... So for sure give a chance to Fukuoka and if it proves to be sustainable for small or larger communities that's great and It should be advocated whenever and wherever possible. Concerning the weather I can myself see the change as compared to last year that was quite a regular year. Interesting. I read you had some difficult times with the RRO! Thankfully I had no problem with them. It was processed in one single day. Obviously things can vary very much for various reasons. I guess you never know what is going to get out of the box... That must be India also! By the way next time you go from the RRO or Pondycherry to AV the usual rate is definitely not 400Rs! That's a ripp off!!! From the RRO I paid 175Rs. They can ask up to 250Rs. Beyond is really dishonest. I am curious about seeing your moutain bikes because I may get one next time. Any picture of this? On Beryl facebook? Well, let's see. Oh... Not published yet because of your sickness. Next time then! I see you went back to the Goubert market. I guess you went to that very same shop where we spent some money buying very nice things indeed. It was a good pick. Like it. I am going to be back to it for sure! I read that you do a lot of things, here and there, meeting people, exploring communities, etc. Good for you. Let me know more all about this soon in some good place. ;o)