Arrived in the field, Velankanni!

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Vanakam!

Naan sandocham padugiren!

Yepedi jirokinge?

Meaning: “Hello! I feel happy! How are you?” which is about as far as my Tamil skills have progressed, I also know how to say “I want two cups of tea” for some strange reason, as well as my head hurt, and please speak slowly... Tamil is ladden with retroflex and dental sounds, and the vovels are just wicked... I'm now in my fourth week in Velankanni, the little town where I have just started conducting my fieldwork for the masters thesis in social anthropology.

Since my last letter I have traveled down to Velankanni together with Harri Albert, my Indian selfproclaimed protector/father and good friend (whom I know from my first stay in Pondicherry, he worked at the guest house as an employee of Swami, he stayed for one week and helped me getting some important contacts (he has family and friends here), found me a nice room, arranged cooking equipment (and taught me how to make some Indian dishes), wheels to get around etc. My living quarters consist of a room of about 15 square meters, with attached bathroom (with western toilet, rather nice to have on those days the stomach isn't agreeing with my diet) costing me affordable 1500 rupies a month (230 NOK).

One of the contacts he introduced me too, Aruldos, the chief of english correspondence at the church office has together with his family taken on the responsibility of making sure I'm as happy as can be. My protector family are the sweetest people imagniable, calling me or visiting me once a day, supplying me with this and that I “need” (such as white bread and jam). I think part of the reason for their (over zealous) concern for my wellbeing is that living alone is a strange concept to most Tamils, they can't quite fathom how a BOY of 22 can survive all alone (in most contexts I'm not thought of as a BOY – I think atleast – except when it comes to my ability to care for myself...). Their primary concern is that I wont eat enough (three different families ask me everyday what I had for breakfast, lunch and dinner). To make sure I wont die from starvation Aruldos and family have invited me to dinner a couple of times, feeding me with incredible amounts of rice and curry dishes, “No thank you” is not a valid response to a spoon heavily laden with rice (saying “pådum pådum pådum” – “finish finish finish” – works a little better...). In addition to the dinners Aruldos with family stops by every other day with breakfast and lunch, watching me eat and far from accepting my claims to beeing satisfied. Aruldos' wife watch my body sceptically, I can allmost feel her pinching my arms while shaking her head complaining of my skinniness, much like a grandmother would do... They really have nothing to worry about ofcourse, the food is good and eating out in Velankanni is cheaper than cheapest, a delicious fish meal at “my” beach restaurant comes to maximum 40 rupies, 6 NOK, cooking at home is one fourth or so. An other church guy has also decided I need to be watched, he stops by every day to make sure I'm alive and well (his daughter is married to his sisters son – how extremly anthropological... mrbr and fasi have special honorary terms as well; never thought I'd be mapping out family terms and relations, but as it turns out it is a nice way to start). The list of people helping with this and that is long, so I'll stop here 😉 Suffice to say that my entrance into the field was paved with marble and gold!

I'm generally looked upon with nothing but goodwill from the locals, this I think is largly due to the gratitude people feel towards western NGO's that came to their aid in the diffucult time after the tsunami. NGO's seem to figure much more prominently in peoples assesment of aid contribution than the Indian government. (A walk along the seashore counting the new fisherboats somewhat confirms this; a quick and rough count showed about 30 from NGO's and 4 from the government.)

The affore mentioned beach resturant is so far my main focus, I spend a couple of hours there every day, learning Tamil (Velankanni is “village India”, english is therefore not spoken with the fluency of bigger cities), getting to know the people and just hanging around... I gues some degree of justification for choosing a beachside restaurant with good food (and one of the few eating places you can order alcohol in Velankanni...) as the locus for my research is called for. As briefly described in my previous email my intention is to find out something about the local community post-disaster; the restaurant beeing situated right smack on the seashore (now 30 meters from the shoreline, except at high tide, before 10 meters) was totally washed away by the tsunami, along with a huge number of guests and most of the employees. Among the current employees two were there working as the tsunami hit (one had his face smashed, a private person gave him rescourses for reconstruction and the 6 month hospital stay needed, during which he missed the opportunity to make a claim for losses to the government – he received nada). Needless to say the tsunami is not the easiest topic, but they are far from reluctant to share their thoughts and experiences. The restaurant was in its old form about 3 times the size of the current size, and seeing a lot more activity. There are less pilgrims coming to Velankanni generally, and a lower % of those coming actually take the formerly “obligatory” walk down to the beach to dip their feet in the water (this is not based on actual statistics but rather based on what locals and pilgrims have told me), people are afraid of the sea (the tsunami hit right after the sermon in Malayalam – the language of Kerala – was finished, 8 busses from Kerala returned empty, such busses are often arranged localy and transport friends and neighbours, sometimes whole villages) and the weather is according to local sources a lot rougher now than before (heavy wind).

Religion figures prominently in Tamil Nadu, as far as I can see it is mostly a very harmonious coexistence of Hindus, Christians and Muslims. In lack of a better term it is also what one can call syncretistic; images of Christans saints are intermixed with Hindu myths, the body of Jesus not pierced by nails on a wooden cross, but leaning against a tree pierced by arrows (a Hindu myth I'm intending to read), Mary – Mother of Good Health – looks rather much like a Hindu goddess dressed in a sari, and so forth. Pilgrims from all religions visit the Basilica here in Velankanni (Muslims and Hindus being mostly locals, atleast from within Tamil Nadu). People are naturally interested in my religious views, and luckily have no problems with my unconfessed religious affiliations, my usual response is that I'm not a christian but that I'm “open minded” which atleast isn't untrue, it is rather true for a given value of truthness, allthough I realize it might give the impression that I'm rather more inclined towards the spirtual than what is “true”. However, I'm strange enough as it is coming all the way to India all alone and living alone, if I were to say that I'm an atheist (which is not anymore true than openminded really) I would probably become an unsolvable enigma... It's nice being a part time relativist, THE truth just isn't my buisness, truthnessiness is 😊

For those who might be worried about the Norwegian stranded in a strange country with some 80 million Muslims I can assure you that I so far have only heard about the recent upheaval in the muslim world through concerned parents and major Indian newspapers. The havoc created by some who seem to think that being able to do something means it is right to do it hasn't touched this part of India (to my knowledge atleast). South India is generally known for being the “harmonious” part of India, major religious and/or political conflicts tend to not spread from the North.

My first email had a slightly complainatory edge to it concerning the weather. Aparently this fell in bad earth with some seeing as Norway is having a rough winter... Therefore I feel a strong urge to let you know a little MORE about the weather down here. Velankanni, contrary to what I had envisaged, has a climate rather more agreeable than Pondicherry, there is a constant breeze from the sea (Pondy is allso a costal city, but the wind is not as strong and the city much more dense, allowing less wind to cool the interior), and the warmth is generally less oppressive (for some unknown reason). My room is on the groundfloor of a 3 story building, with my front door nearly constantly in shade from the sun by the 1st floor veranda (which by the way is a Sanskrit word borrowed by English and other germanic languages), the 2 walls facing the outside are constantly in shade (except evening when the sun is quite bearable), 1 wall facing the rest of the building; to sum it up, my room has a near perfect locality and is a comfortable haven during midday! The beach is a comfortable place as well, at all times of the day (actually a bit cool some evenings, the sea breeze can become rather strong, so strong in fact that a longsleeve shirt is needed! brrrr). Ofcourse; the heat IS annoying if for some reason I have to stand or walk in the sun between 11am and 15pm, but most of the time I manage to avoid this... 😊 BUT... this is the end of the cool season, march-april will be hell on earth... Come may and the warmth goes down again (but the humidity goes up, dont know which is worst...). But I can't say im looking forward to those two months of 44 degrees during midday and a couple of 30 during night, my squeaky slow speed ceiling fan will definitly need some assistance... Even the locals hate theese months, and those who can afford it take as long holidays as possible to hill-stations in the mountainrange dividing Tamil Nadu and Kerala. UGH.

Wonga!
– Koposhami

(Byebye!
– My Tamil name; the guys at the beachrestaurant figured Håvard just didn't cut it in India)

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Photos

Rice paddy
Pictur taken somewhere between Pondy and Velankanni.