Back to the Village

I am quite pleased with how I spent my weeks away from the farm and out of the village. I visited numerous NGO's and went on a few "field-trips" for research. I frequented the Sikh temple down the street from my hotel and saw some touristy things in Delhi, as well as eating out every night with Jeremy and spending a weekend in Manali, high in the Himalayas. I left Delhi and returned to Jaipur, making only a 2-day visit with my homestay family. They were having their annual big puja (worship) the day after my return, and I just had to be there. As my little brother put it, its a day where they "waste 100 liters of water for no good reason." As my Dad put it, "we do it once a year to bring success, wealth, health, everything. We don't waste the water, we pour it on the god." So, I dressed myself up in my Indian attire and accompanied my family for the 13 hour ceremony. They treated me like one of the family, letting me hold the fire plate and wave it over the deity, and stand with the family in front while everyone blessed them. I'm glad I stayed for the celebration.

I came back here to the village the next day. The entire country was on strike; schools, shops, businesses, everything was closed in protest for, among other things, the high rise in petrol prices throughout the country. Therefore, I have only had 2 days at the school so far. If there's anything I've learned having lived in this country for a total of almost 6 months, its that nothing is learned without experience. How to book a bus ticket, how to agree on a rickshaw fare, how to barter a price, how to deal with the gawking stares and subtle touches of men and boys, the list goes on. Learning to do these things comes only from being forced into the situation and dealing with it. Teaching was no different. They threw me into the classroom with no instructions, no information on how old the children were, or how much English they already knew. They told me, like Nike does, to "just do it." I was teaching the second grade, kids way to young for me to be dealing with, given my limited Hindi. They misbehaved, asked me questions I couldn't answer and I could sense the frustration between both of us of not being able to communicate. Today, I was (thankfully and after some convincing) moved to 5th grade. It was an amazing day. The children behaved, listened to my broken Hindi commands and even learned something. We worked on grammar: I go to school, you go to school, we go to school etc. then even had the time to move onto present progressive, I am going to school etc... I quizzed them at the end of the day on what we learned, and most remembered. It's a rewarding feeling, and I am looking forward to seeing the children in the village this afternoon on my walk to see if they have forgotten what we did today! Two of the girls in my class are married (12 and 14 years old) but they live with their parents until they are 18. Just a fact I found interesting, sad, different, and intriguing.

When I look back on the past few years, I would never have guessed that I would be living in the middle of the desert in village India, wearing a sari everyday to teach English in a school for Dalit children. What an experience...