Happy Holi!

A handful of rotating interns have been manning the Rait centre for a few months now and as far as engaging with the community, progress has been steady but slow. We’ve manage to develop trust and good relationships with a few key individuals, who we hope will eventually act as catalysts for the rest of the community. Our landlords, affectionately nic-named Uncle and Auntie by all the interns, have been gracious hosts and are always willing to offer directions in adjusting to the Indian way of life. They have introduced us to their widowed daughter-in-law, Sarita, who we’ve agreed to give personal informal English lessons to in exchange for her help in meeting and (hopefully) befriending some of the other women in the community. Sarita is warm and always greets us with a smile. Her children have also warmed to us and drop what they’re doing whenever we walk by to say hello, chat or play.

While we’ve made good in-roads with this family, and a few other women Sarita has introduced to us, engaging the rest of the community has been challenging. With our strange clothes, funny ways of talking, and general ignorance of how best to navigate the thin village pathways, we foreigners stand out as stranger in the truest sense of the word. In a community where everyone has known each other from birth and where private and public lives are so closely blended together, a group of strangers whose purpose is not quite clear and that suddenly show up claiming to be “working for an NGO”, naturally raises some suspicion. 

Our tactic so far has been regular walks through the village, offering smiles and polite Nameste-s, as a means to familiarise the community with our presence and put them at ease regarding the strange group of foreigners who have moved in down the road. Most of the time these efforts are met with suspicious stares and occasionally an accepting nod. Some of the women will return our Nameste, but only if we speak first.

This dynamic changed dramatically the day of Holi.

Holi, the ancient Hindu festival of colour and love, is an opportunity for a community to come together and celebrate in a free-for-all carnival of coloured powder and water. And we were invited! 

On a gloriously sunny March morning, men, women and children alike gather together and walk from house-to-house in a procession of singing, dancing and percussions instruments. At each house coloured dry powder – pink, yellow, green, blue, red, and purple- is exuberantly clapped onto the faces of the inhabitants and thrown into the air to shower down on the celebrants dancing and cheering below. Then the procession moves on to the next house, gradually gathering more villagers along the way. Some houses offer sweets, chai and soft drinks as refreshments. 

As this joyous clamour of colour, movement and song snaked its way throughout the village, some of the Rait interns were given the opportunity to party and play with community members who had so far only offered a slight nod or a reluctant Nameste as we passed by. Now we were singing and dancing together. As something of a novelty we made popular targets, particularly with the children; those expert in the sneak attack. By around lunch time we probably had more coloured powder on our faces, in our hair and all over our clothes, than anyone else in the community. My cheeks were sore from smiling and laughing so much.

After lunch and a well-deserved shower, we walked back through the now more subdued village to the market to buy vegetables for dinner. This time, instead of nervous stares and reluctant replies to our greetings, women called out “Nameste!” from their rooftops, or stopped us on the road to laugh, rub their cheeks and exclaimed “Happy Holi!” as if to remind us of how absolutely covered we had been a few hours earlier. Children, who had until now usually giggled nervously from a far, walked with us and attempted to make conversation with their mix of our limited Hindi, and their English. “Happy Holi!” was offered at every turn. We felt welcomed and part of this unique and tight-knit community.

Whether this familiarity lasts after the festive season is yet to be seen, but for now the Rait interns are hopeful that the relationships seeded this Holi last longer than the stains on our clothes.

Alanah Grant - USA and Katherine Woolnough - Australia
Women Empowerment Project Managers, Rait

Building a Sustainable Office in Punjab

Educare has been in Punjab a very long time (approximately 5 years to my knowledge).  I believe throughout this time we have seen a lot of ups and downs in terms of progress, but little by little we are making change happen.  We have had centers and Vikas centers in various areas in Punjab- Adampur, Dosarka, Janauri and now in Paro.  Last year we finally renewed our contract in the office space and although it has been a slow 6 months, we are happy to finally be using this office space now. 

Now our challenge as interns?  Furnishing this space in preparation of more projects and interns.  Myself and Nana (Adriana Martinez) have been brainstorming solutions, because one of Educare’s aims is to use recycled materials as much as possible.  What I love about Educare is the same thing that is getting put into practice here.  How can we create a comfortable space for interns and community members, while using the fewest amount of materials in a sustainable way?

While we did buy plastic chairs to sit on- an extremely cumbersome and entertaining bus ride, I may add- we are now thinking of more creative ways to furnish the office. 

interns in the office with a Women’s Empowerment Poster we received from an artist in Delhi.

One of our ingenious ideas is to collect an old door or large piece of unused wood and stack bricks underneath or attach smaller pieces of wood to make a table.  We also have thought about using a low wooden Indian bed frame for the same purpose.  Instead of chairs, we will make cushions out of fabric and sit on the floor.  Not only is this more economical and better than purchasing a brand new table and chairs, it is more culturally appropriate.  The idea for this table will be to set up a sewing space for the girls in the community to sew blankets and curtains for our future ReStore.  They themselves always work on a bed or floor, and a table would perhaps be unfamiliar to them.

I love the opportunity to get creative and use the materials around me to transform unwanted things and breathe new life into them.  I learn a lot from the migrant workers in that regard.  They collect and re-sell trash, but some they keep for their own use.  While some items are unwanted by some, it doesn’t mean it can’t be used in another fashion, and makes me get creative with my own unwanted things. 

I laugh at the thought that in my own country, I would just head to the nearest IKEA and charge up a storm for this new office.  But what we are creating in Punjab is genuine, creative but above all unique.  Everything we will create will have been put together with the minds and hands of the interns and help from the community.  It will come from reused or inexpensive materials and will demonstrate the true ideals of Educare that teach me about sustainability every day.  I know it will take a while before this office is fully functioning to the best of its ability, but I’m proud of the small progresses we have made, and look forward to what we will accomplish in the coming months!

Margaret Arzon - USA

Operations Coordinator

 

Autumn and Diwali in Punjab

Now that I have lived in India for over a year now, I am quickly learning to appreciate the autumn season.  The weather cooling down is a welcomed reprieve from the beating sun during May-August, and it’s much drier compared to monsoon season. I’m not one to usually enjoy the cold, but being able to wear a sweatshirt at night in Punjab is wonderful compared to enduring 45-degree temperature.  Lots of fruits and vegetables are in season and one of my favorite street foods, chilly potato, is on the market. 

In September I had the fortune of celebrating Dussera in the camps and in October I got to celebrate Diwali.  Diwali is known as the festival of lights and some people call it the Christmas of Hinduism.  This festival marks the coming home of Lord Ram after being in exile for a number of years and defeating an evil demon.  People celebrate this day by giving sweets to loved ones, decorating the home, lighting candles, and setting off fireworks. 

On the actual day of Diwali all the interns gathered and visited the camp.  We donned our Indian best and the camp loved how we looked!  They kept telling us we looked so beautiful and it really made me happy to gain their approval.  We took lots of pictures and everyone was loving the festive ambience.  We shared sweets and fireworks with the camp and they all seemed to appreciate it.  We offered them jalaabi, which are fried dough soaked in sugar, and delicious when eaten fresh and warm.  In the evening we enjoyed a nice celebration in the Dholbaha house.  Thomas and Manon set up a wonderful space for us on the roof to watch the fireworks, including a bonfire.  We decorated the area with candles and set off some fireworks of our own.  The most memorable was ‘the Bomb’ it started with an explosion of colors followed by the loudest blast that would scare even the deaf. 

Unexpectedly, while cooking our celebratory dinner, our gas ran out!  Fortunately, we had the fire going and were able to finish the dinner by campfire.  I’ve never tried pressure-cooking beans over a fire before, but I can now attest that it is possible.  Although it wasn’t planned, at the end we ate Bengan Bharta, Chana Masala, and salad all made from the fire and ate on the rooftop under the stars and fireworks.  Living in Punjab teaches us to live naturally, and that night was a testament to what we’ve learned.  The celebration was a lot quieter compared to my Delhi experience but I loved every moment.  For most of us, Diwali is not a customary holiday that we practice, but this year we got to partake in the celebration and soak in the excitement that is Diwali.  I’m so happy that this year I got to spend it with the camp members and fellow interns, it was a day I’ll never forget!

By: Margaret Arzon

In love with India

India has my heart. 

I’m addicted to her madness. I’m helpless to the way she constantly flirts with my emotions and teases my good intentions. She is every colour imaginable and every grey shadable. I often hear other travellers talking about India as if they think they understand her, that they know everything there is to know about her. But India is beyond explanation, beyond statement. Just when I think I have her wrapped around my little finger, she evades me. Because whatever I could say to you about India, the opposite is also true. India is as sweet as she is scary. As beautiful as she is ugly. 

Like many women travellers, I spend some of my time here questioning my emotions. Because being with India means I must choose to give up a part of myself. Here, my femininity is a curse. I should always be aware and always be cautious. I cover up. I avoid eye contact. I remain silent. I am expected to respect a man more than I would my fellow woman and to take their discourteous and often inappropriate behaviour towards us as an acceptable by product of the culture and of my life here. But when you have to give up a part of yourself to be (with) someone else, where is it that you draw the line? It’s a lesson I’m still trying to figure out.

But despite all this, the bond we share is undeniable. I love her for all her simplicities and all her complexities. And in return she forces me to be present, makes me second guess myself and shows me how to live simply. She challenges me. She changes me. She brings me easy but beautiful friendships, makes me laugh constantly and she doesn't mind that I eat to excess or that I don't wash my hair. And she always, ALWAYS makes me marvel. But man does she test my patience….

India. She’s a bus driver that stops for a 30 minute chai break when you’re half way home. She's THAT uncomfortable stare from men. She's garbage lined streets. She’s a broken system. She’s a caste based identity. She's inequality. She’s a mange covered and unloved puppy or a ‘sacred’ cow dying a slow and brutal death. She’s ALWAYS a yes, when what she really means is no….

But she's also a local bus with your head out the window and the wind in your hair, she’s a 70 year Sihk with a hot pink turban, she's THAT head wobble. She’s a stranger who invites you in for chai, a monk with an iPad and a Naddi sunset. She’s an elephant walking on the highway, a bollywood movie and a giggling five year old migrant with perfect white teeth.…. She's eggplant masala with a garlic naan.

Oh LOVE. I may occasionally win the battle but I’ll forever lose the war.

Two weeks ago I travelled to Gajner, Rajasthan to help open up a new community cluster. As Renata and I are walking the camel lined and dusty streets, we hear a small schoolboy shouting. When I turn around, he races after us, as excited as he is anxious. As he and his friends chase us up the street, and in a rush of nervousness in what I think may well be the first time he’s ever tried out his English skills, he blurts “WHERE DO YOU BELONG?” They pause and wait for my answer. I laugh in a way he doesn't understand. India. She's always pulling these little tricks on me. Constantly testing me. Redefining me. While they stand there and watch. 

My absolute favourite place in India, is the local bus. Its also where our love affair was confirmed. In my fourth week here, and twice daily thereafter, I am sitting on a crowded Punjabi bus in 35 degree heat, hindi music is blaring from the speakers and Im sharing a tiny broken seat with 2 school girls, 3 kgs of vegetables, a bucket and a small baby, a bag in my face, sweating from brow to butt cheek. All eyes in the bus are on me. We suddenly come to a screeching halt because of a cow lying in the middle of the road, and I grin and brace as we all launch forward. I lose my heart on impact. India. She’s madness and she's magic. 

Educare Research Reflection - Nikita Simpson

The experience of being a research intern was invaluable for me over this summer. I spent 6 weeks in Naddi and surrounding areas at the Educare base. As a student of Social Anthropology, my prerogative was to do intimate fieldwork in the Gaddi community to answer my research question - How have changing rape culture discourses and legislation impacted rural areas of India? 

My experience was so positive for three reasons. First, because it forced me out of the western rational model of space and time that I was used to. Second, because I learnt to understand the Gaddi community on their own terms because of the intimate nature of our interaction. Third, because the grass roots philosophy of Educare facilitated me to understand the complexity of the social links and imagined identities that make up the cultural context of the Gaddi people.

I turned up in Naddi with a serious plan. I had amassed the secondary resources that I need - reading from complex these on Neoliberalism to the daily updates on Modi’s new government. I had a list of the kinds of people I wanted to meet and was all ready to slot them into my calendar in delineated time intervals. I was in for a shock. The first rule of ethnography that I leant was the necessity of blending into the pace of life that I was faced with. This meant dropping the burning desire to write succinct dot points and come to quick conclusions, and instead simply sitting and hanging out before I came to any tentative plan. I learnt how arrogant it must have seemed to think I could simply march in and collect information. This is not to say one should be defeatist when coming to India - it drove me mad to listen to people complaining that nothing works. Instead, the process of adaptation and acceptance of flexibility was necessary in order to suck the marrow from my experience.

More than anything, I learnt that an afternoon spent more productively was one where I spent my time chatting to the members of the community. Over the course of my stay, I slowly gained their trust. It was very important not to see them as a resource of information, but instead to appreciate the growing friendship that I had with them. Though snippets of information I was able to work out the power dynamics, cultural conceptions, imagined communities, aspirations and grievances of individuals. I was able to probe their subjectivities and attempt to understand the relationships they formed. From this platform, I came to know what external resources - both textual and in terms of interviews - I needed to draw upon in order to answer my research question.

Hence, I came up with a long list of people I needed to meet. From doctors to state officials to human rights activists, I was encouraged by Educare that the sky is the limit when it comes to approaching external resources. My facilitators at Educare in the beginning facilitated my interactions with these parties, but as I gained confidence they helped me to realise that I could make these connections myself. The outcome was a 50 page interview log that sets up the infrastructure for my research project and allows me to contextualise my experience with the Gaddi community. My experiences at Educare were formative in my understanding not just of what it is to be a researcher, but in how to approach different cultures and forms of sociality in general. Their grass roots ethos combined with a highly supportive network of peers and leaders is a recipe for success - if you are willing to adapt and grow into the place where you choose to be.

I feel honoured to be part of the Educare team and hope that somehow the information I have amassed and conclusions I am yet to draw will make some mark on the projects they run and the lives of the community that welcomed me with open arms.

Chaos, Children, and Ferris Wheels

India is a country filled with millions of people, and in each region there a different traditions, religions, and festival practices. One thing I’ve learned while being here is that people in India take their festivals seriously. Returning to Punjab after being in Dharamshala for our Quarterly Meeting, we arrived to find large festival preparations and people buzzing with excitement. Right now there is an ongoing 10 day festival happening called Dusserha. Toy stands, food vendors, and small children’s rides abounded within earshot of the community we visit every other day. All the excitement from this fair has tempted the children with its presence everyday, meaning that we couldn’t ignore it. The children in our community asked us repeatedly if we could take them on the Ferris Wheel nearby, and they were so persistent that it distracted them from our educational activities so much that we finally had to give in.

After about an hour of begging, the 7 of us foreigners came trailing into the fair with about 20 little boy and girls in tow ranging from 2 years old to 13. The excitement from the children was chaotic. For these children, this is the opportunity of year. Riding a Ferris Wheel is exciting, and scary, fast, and dangerous. They were terrified of the height and screams abounded as we all reached the curve at the top. Of course, this was a sight for the community. They aren’t used to seeing foreigners, and they definitely aren’t used to seeing them with a bunch of children that live in tents along the government’s trash dumping site. This was a big deal for us too, as we hardly ever leave the camp with the people who live there and receiving attention from the outside community felt a bit strange. But ultimately nothing could distract us from the shear joy and excitement on the faces of these children.

This was as much a treat for them as it was for us. They probably never have the chance to enjoy the fair even though it was only a few meters away, and we also would have never ventured over there otherwise. We all had an amazing time (despite the precarious condition of the Ferris Wheel), and it was a day I’ll never forget. This was not only a once in a year event, for most of us it was a once in a life time opportunity.