I have found that, as frustrating as trying to speak another language is, it can be hysterical. I woke up this morning and, having felt some lactose intolerance lately from the “fresh-from-the-cow” milk, decided their milk-heavy chai would not be a good idea. She offered to make me tea and I said “no thank you.” She said “no?” and looked confused as to why I wouldn't want chai. I said “ I'm ok.” She said “ok? I make.” Laughing I said “no thank you.” She responded, “your welcome.” I drank the tea. Other times I find my head spinning from the Hindi half getting to my brain and half going right over my head. Before I know it I'm splurting out some mix of Hindi, English and Spanish and everyone is looking at me confused. I can pick up most sentences, and when I can't I can usually at least recognize what the subject of the conversation is. Many times though, it is all going so fast around me that when I am not being directly spoken to, I zone out into my own world. Yesterday, I “came to” in the middle of a conversation during dinner between the farmer and his wife. “You ask her” he said. “No, you ask.” she responded. I sat patiently, eating my chapatti, waiting to hear who was going to win the battle and ask me whatever pressing issue they were discussing. “Honey” he said “I told you to ask now ask.” When she didn't I started to get nervous, wondering if they were going to ask me something personal or embarrassing. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he said, “Leeza, do you want your watermelon now or in a few minutes?”
I go to bed at the end of the day tired from listening. It sounds foolish but when all day is spent deciphering sentences and signals, the silence and rest of the night is so appealing!
I sat outside today discussing the water issue (there was a large article about it in the Hindi daily newspaper) with the farmer and one of the teachers at the school who was visiting. Suddenly, the farmer jumped up and yelled “Ah! Jao!” (Go) I looked, and saw no one. The teacher looked at me and we laughed. There was no cow or goat eating the plants, no boy running wild and no one even in sight. Finally, he pointed out the most deadly lizard in India. Great, right at my doorstep. “One bite, 2 seconds, dead” he said making a cutting motion across his neck. I looked at it and couldn't tell the difference between this one and the many that crawl my floor and walls at night eating insects. They're the same color, same size, same shape. How will I ever know, I asked him. He said, “Oh, you just will.” Let's hope I ever come across that lizard again....
I learned today that many of the deaths in this area are either in the summer, when many of the elderly cannot stand the heat, or in the winter from camels. It is mating season for camels during the winter and if a male camel owner does not have a female, the male gets angry and lashes out, grabbing the neck of the owner with his enormous mouth and never letting go. There goes my dream of making friends with all these camels....my trust is gone!
I have been trying to catch the water trucks as they come into the village everyday, but they do not come at a set time every morning. Therefore, I have resorted to just walking the village for an hour or two. This morning, I made it through our village and the next one into the quiet desert air. There was no one around me and no one in sight. Brown surrounded me; large fields lay barren and dry with some trees in the distance. Finally, peace. I saw two people walking towards me and as they got closer I was able to make out that they were females. Good, I thought, safer for me, as my head was not covered and the fact that I am a foreigner was quite noticeable today. I was wrong. The women were dressed in bright orange and green saris and covered from head to toe in gold jewelery. Earrings, necklaces and anklets, they were “decked out” as we would say. However, upon seeing me they ran to me and started grabbing me, yelling in Hindi to give them money and food. Clearly, I had nothing but a small purse with my camera in it, and I pretended not to know Hindi, repeating over and over again “Hindi nahi, Hindi nahi.” One woman pointed to her belly and kept telling me she was pregnant and needed food for her baby. All I could think was to tell her to sell some of her bling. They followed me for quite some time yelling while I ignored them, before they finally gave up and turned around. They may have needed the food and money, maybe not. But the looks in their eyes told me that they knew that to us, 100 rupees is 2 dollars, to them it's a months pay.
After careful consideration and a pro and con list, I am catching a (free!) ride back to Jaipur tomorrow. I have exhausted all the research and questions I can ask one farmer here, being cooped up inside his home all day. When life takes away your lemons, you gotta find some other way to make lemonade. I haven't planned where I am going yet, maybe up to the mountains where it is NOT 135 degrees, or to some of the places in Rajasthan I've wanted to see that will help my research. Regardless, I will be returning here in the first few days of July to help plant (hopefully, if the rains come) and help teach when the school opens.
Photos to come once I'm in Jaipur and have faster internet....
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