I spend the time asking them questions about their water issues, as there is NO water in this area for the people to use, yet this family is able to flood their trees when they water them. A government truck delivers water to the village every morning, and people come running with buckets. Our family does not do this, we have our own 10 HP pump and wells to use, sucking the groundwater of its last available resources. It's an interesting conundrum: are they greedy? rich? (yes) or just taking advantage of what they can? Wouldn't anyone else do the same?
Aside from that, living with them has been very nice. Because it is so hot, they would not let me stay in the same room I did last time, instead they are putting me up in the main house, where the head farmer, his wife and 9 month old baby live. I have a real flushing toilet here, as well as a bed under a fan and a marble floor (not dirt!) There is a shower too. I couldn't have asked for better living accommodations while being here.
Maybe it is from being an anthropologist, or maybe it's because I have done this and been here before, but I thought I knew what to expect upon coming back to the farm. Being the "other" is never easy, especially here in India where the sighting of a white person is like the sighting of a camel in New York City. This family is used to "us" though, having hosted WWOOFers many times before. Still, I can't help but feel awkward, not knowing my place, like an outcast(e). It will get easier, as I begin to get more comfortable around the family, but for now I miss having another "other" around to talk to at the end of the night, compare "notes" on the happenings of the day and just speak in English with.
Although I don't have much farm work to do around here until the end of June, I am trying my best to stay busy and make the most of each day. I wish I brought more books, but I have started some relaxed Hindi lessons with one of the wives and bird watching. Yes, I have taken up bird watching. There is a book in the house of birds in India. Having sat outside this morning and watched numerous brightly colored birds flutter past and stop for a sip at the well, I decided to crack it open.
I have, as of now, no problem with the thick layer of dust that covers everything in sight or anything left out; I am slowly getting used to the lizards chasing each other up and down the wall above my bed; the small ants everywhere don't seem harmful; the heat is rough but bearable; and the lack of toilet paper has become something to laugh at. But here, out in the middle of the quiet and serene desert, away from the bustling city of Jaipur with its honking horns and giant trucks blaring Hindi film music, it is the screeching, the kawing, and the squeaking of the peacocks piercing the silent air that is truly starting to get on my nerves. Granted they're beautiful creatures, moving quite majestically, made with such beauty, and held to such high and holy esteem in India. Why then, were they made with such deafening, high-pitched, non-stop voices? When one is near and "speaking," you cannot have a conversation with anyone, because their calls are so deafening, they drown out any competition. I'll get used to it I suppose, as I have gotten used to most everything else, but for now they're simply annoying.
Because of the lack of work here, I may go back to Jaipur for a week and pay a visit to a different farmer I had met last time. There is not much for me to do here, except relax and waste the days away. Unfortunately, that's not what I'm here to do and have to end up coming home with some work done. We'll see how it all plays out...more updates soon.
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