Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

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10/5-10/6

Today I went on my first field visit in rural Maharasthra, the state that Rajgurunagar and Mumbai are in. I went with a field officer Sanjay who was going to be conducting a training in a nearby town, approximately 25km away. We took the bus early in the morning and arrived to the town 1 ½ hours later (it takes awhile to travel small distances here because the roads are so bad). When we arrived it was pouring rain. We both forgot our umbrellas and became completely soaked in the minutes it took to get from the bus stop to the Chaitanya office we were going to. We waited at the office for two hours for the group to arrive. Unlike in Mumbai, the group must travel to the nearest Chaitanya office for trainings which are normally close to the towns but makes timing difficult especially on days where rickshaws are in high demand such as a rainy day.

The training was on why SHGs and SHG trainings are important. It’s meant to help newer members in SHG groups. A group, which has an official name, may last a long time but members can always leave if desired. They started the meeting by singing some songs about women’s empowerment from the Chaitanya handbook. It struck me how strange it would be to perform a rousing song at the beginning of the day at an organization. I know Wal-Mart does it but would a song really improve moral or bring about the self-consciousness connected to singing in the US? We continued with personal introductions, our mother’s name, a hobby, and a characteristic about ourselves. Mind you this is all being conducted in Marathi, the mother tongue of the area. Thankfully someone who could translate came to the meeting for part of it and she explained to me how strange the women felt when being asked to identify their mother’s name. In India you are always asked to identify your father or husband and it seems to become a part of who you are. This custom traces back to when women needed permission from male figures to do certain things, a tradition mostly changed however still ingrained.

I was able to ask them some questions about my leadership project and I received insightful answers from the discussions. Sanjay had a great analogy that he described to the women to show how important their roles are:

Men and women make up a bicycle. The men comprise the front wheel, steering mechanism (handlebars) and breaks. The women make up the back wheel, the seat, the pedals and the chain. Men have the ability to steer the bike and cause it to stop but the women are the mechanism that make it work, the chain. A bike can have no brakes and still function although it will be completely crazy and unsafe. Without the chain, the bike will not function. Not only is the woman the chain, but her back wheel supports the riders and the pedals allow the bike to go forward. Thus, the woman carries the burden (passenger) on her back, makes things run (with the chain), and keeps things constantly moving forward.

Although not universally applicable, this analogy is so true in India. Many employers state they would rather have women employees then men because they are more reliable. The hardest working person in a family is the woman hands down. She runs the household, hopefully the finances, takes care of the kids, etc. The women in the group and I thought this was quite a funny analogy and they really seemed to relate.

This trip reminded me once again I really just have to go with the flow. Since the meeting started late, we were there until 4:30. I was supposed to spend the night in the trainings facility but ended up going to Kanse (said Khan-say), the village where some of the ladies were from. We walked to a bus stand and waited for awhile but left to go to a wait for a jeep. These are larger versions of rickshaws, looking like an SHG and have seats for 3 in the front including the driver, 3 in the middle and two seats facing each other on the back that fits four. That totals 10 people comfortably. We had 20 people in/on that vehicle. There were six in the front seat (one man hanging outside), five in the middle where I was, six in the back and three hanging off of the vehicle in the rear. The more people, the less fare I believe. These jeeps can’t function without a lot of people traveling in one load so they are filled to capacity. I am surprised this scene still shocked me but it was a new vision of making room to accommodate and cut costs to me. In India, where these isn’t room- we’ll make some.

We arrived near our destination but had to walk about 15 minutes although at the time we were walking a length unknown to me. It started raining lightly but increased in intensity. One of the women I was with hailed a passing motorcycle that is dropping someone off and motions for me to get on. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I will continue to mention it but what I want, will always be overridden by other’s good intentions and protesting is completely futile.

So I got on that motorcycle and rode “Indian style” to some unknown destination with an unknown person. “Indian style” riding is basically like sidesaddle on a horse. Your legs are to one side and instead of holding onto the person in front of you, you hold onto a bar on the back of the bike. The reason women ride like this is it’s inappropriate to ride the normal way with anyone besides your husband/boyfriend/father.

So I rode that motorcycle, becoming drenched with rainwater, trying to shield myself from the rain with the driver without touching him and figuring out if I’m brave enough to let go of the handle and move my backpack to safety. I almost got up the guts to move my backpack when we came to a bridge filled with cattle. We started weaving inbetween the cows, coming so close their tails almost flicked me in the face. We cleared the bridge and arrived at a house soon after where we ran outside. Turns out he was the son of one of the women I was walking with and we arrived at her home. This is a definite example of the saying “Guest is God”. One of the women I was walking with was 70+ years but I was given the motorcycle ride and if I had tried to refuse and pass it onto her, they would’ve been outraged, especially eh older woman.

I was soon showed where we would stay. It was connected ot the first house and had a huge entryway, living area and kitchen as it’s contents, also a latrine and shower. This is not the village living I was expecting as my only accounts of village stays were from my roommates who slept on the floor with the animals, everyone squished into a room, going to the field for your restrooms. Sunita, the woman I stayed with, arrived soon after I did, relatively dry from her umbrella. She immediately made me chai and I changed out of my clothes. She started making dinner and I insisted on helping. A guest would never be asked ot help but I wanted to learn what she was doing. She filled a steam cooker with rice and corn and started a small gas stove for other needs. We cracked peanuts (I’m now a whiz peanut cracker) and sliced tomatoes. They have the coolest contraption to cut tomatoes with. It’s a wood plank with a concave semi-circle of a curved blade suck in place. You take the item being chopped and run it over the blade which is really sharp and is the part facing you. I would’ve expected the cutting part on the underside but it was facing up. I wasn’t allowed to use this one, probably a good decision and was given a knife to cut the tomato in my hand, which is a difficult task. She roasted peanuts with salt so they were so warm and one of the best items I've had in awhile. We then we made chapati which I’ve described before as flat, unleavened bread that looks like a tortilla. Sunita would roll the chapati and I would fry them on the gas stove. They actually came out well.

After dinner I was ready to laze around the house but more and more women came to see me. Most women only speak Marathi, some Hindi too and none spoke English. I could tell when they were talking about me because they’d say things like “Nei Hindi, Nei Marathi” which means “No Hindi, No marathi”, in shocked voices. Because I dress Indian, they assume I at least know Hindi. Eventually we had 20 women in the entryway all looking at me and talking to each other with Sunita whispering things. It ended up however they were having SHG meetings in the house but I definitely felt like I was on exhibit. Most of the women left at the end but three girls, 20, 27 and 15 stayed and talked to me in broken English. I showed them pictures on my camera of the Taj Mahal and they brought an English study book for me to read from. They ended up reading too and we had a nice little interaction. They decided to stay the night so all five of us slept on blanks on the floor where I fell asleep to the chatter of Marathi.

I awoke to the youngest girl leaving and decided I wanted to walk around. The village was so gorgeous. A light fog laid over it and the buildings looked like they belonged in the hills of Switzerland. The village is surrounded by green hills and pastures and is breathtaking. I wandered around, met some random people who all forced me to eat and drink chai and soon had a following of kids. One of the women from the previous day took me to see the temples. This is where I learned the US motion of “go away, shoo” means come here. I went to an older temple that seemed unused and took a picture. These older people were “shooing” me away from the temple and I was thinking “crap, I’ve desecrated this holy place!” but when I started to walk away they yelled the equivalent of no. I was so confused so I tried to walk away again but they yelled no again. Then I started to walk towards them as they continued to make the motion and the bobbled their heads that this was the right decision.

I returned to Goregaon soon after for the next part of the training. It was such a great inauguration to village life and I realized once again, that an experience is what you make it. We could barely communicate, I was being talked to in Marathi here and there and not understanding but the experience was so enjoyable and enriched my experience in India beyond words.

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