I Love Kerala

Okay, I just got off the boat: two days cruising the backwaters of beautiful Kerala, the southwestest corner state of India. And in the last week in Kerala I have realized that I am in love with this state. Let me count the ways:


(Disclaimer: Although I may be on land now, my body is still on that boat; everything is swaying and I am pretty nauseous. Hopefully this is coherent. This list is not in any sort of order)

1. Lungis- All men (aged 35 +) wear lungis, a cloth rapped around to wrap around one's waist (man dress), which are quite possibly my most favorite attire (although I have kept my lungi packed as not to gain too much unwanted attention). They are very comfortable and extremely functional, when it gets hot or one needs to do some demanding work, there is a procedure of folding it up which give's one full maneuverability. My favorite sights was seeing a bus of men heading to work with dress shirts, brief cases, and their lungis. Now that is a working culture that I want to be a part of.
2. Another male aesthetic note: all men have mustaches here, I know this isn't exclusive to just Kerala, but I love mustaches, and have seen some beautiful ones here that were worth a mention.
3. There are dolphins here! We saw them jumping just offshore from this beach near Kochi.
4. Coconuts are used in everything, including their village wine, known as Toddy, which is dangerously delicious. Much better than the village wine I have drank in Rajasthan which was made from a root.
5. Staying on a fruit related topic, bananas are everywhere, even cigarette and paan stands sell bananas. And they are absolutely delicious, they are different than most of the ones you can get in the states, much smaller but oh so good.
6. Kerala is noticeably more developed than the north where I have spent all of my time, and the effects are quite visable. For instance, women work everywhere, gas pumps, fruit stalls, Internet cafes and are constantly in the public sphere, which was quite shocking for me coming from the North, where it is very rare to see a woman working anywhere outside of the home. Also, girls make eye contact with me here! In all of my time in India, going on almost a year, I have not made eye contact with a single girl, and here girls actually say hello to me. This newfound attention from Indian women is a bit jarring for me, but I will take it. Oh, the literacy rate of this state is quite impressive. Our travel companion, Rose, was bedridden for a couple days with the Delhi Belly, so this freed up time for me to visit Kottayam, a city boasting a hundred percent literacy. For some reason I thought that this would be interesting to see, this utopia of India, where all, from the business man to the farmer, are engaged in meaningful debate and discussion. But I have found sightseeing for literacy doesn't yield the best experiences, and upon reflection, it was about exciting as it sounds.
7. Quite diverse in terms of religion, which is interesting to see: about a third Muslim, a third Christian, and a third Hindu.
8. Traveling around the countryside, seeing beautiful church after beautiful church, it is clear that at least in this region of Kerala, Christianity is most visible, a strange departure from my almost entirely Hindu experience of the North. And Although I wouldn't necessarily consider myself a christian at this point, seeing a shared set of experiences, structures, and customs (albeit in a different form. For example, those that know about Arthi, a ritual fire offering in Hinduism, in kerala, I have seen people performing a similar rite in christian temples that resemble any other Hindu temple that I have seen), especially during this festive season with decorations, costume (we have seen many santas), etc., I have found some comfort in this culture, it is not as alien as it can get up in the North I guess.
9. An interesting twist in the politics of this region, given the diverse religiosity of people. This state is communist and has been for a long time (I am not exactly sure how long). And just as visible as the religions, so is the communist allegiance, despite the relative decline in popularity as of late. The Communist Party of India-Marxist or CPIM is everywhere, with posters, rallies, flags. Interestingly, I even saw a Laal Mandir as I call it, a temple drawing entirely from Hindu architecture colored red with the communist logo. I went to the communist bookstore in the bus stop and picked up a communist planner in Malayalam, the Keralan native tongue, and a cd by the People's Choir, a branch of the CPIM, which was interestedly awful. It was also interesting to see villagers painting lifesize protraits of Che Guevara by candlelight, weird.
10. Attitudes are much more laid back here it seems. People are far less aggressive, even in established tourist spots.
11. Rickshaw drivers give you acurate fares!!! This has never been the case in any place I have traveled in the north.
12. A conscience salve for the tenative tourist: there are very few beggars here, I haven't been asked for money once. Sometimes I feel guilty of the privilege that I have to go on these travels, and admittedly, in more developed areas, like Kerala, I feel that it is a little easier to travel as bad as that may sound.
13. And most important: They drink Coffee here, sweet, sweet, love of life coffee that I cannot get in any decent form in my Himalayan abode. It is also ridiculously cheap, maybe 10 cents a glass, and really delicious. While wandering through the backstreets of Ernakulam, I stumbled upon, Broadway Diner, which turned out to be a refreshing deviation from the Starbuck esque establishments that I have been frequenting in the bigger cities. This place had not experienced a single change since India gained her Independence some sixty years ago. It was like walking into a time portal. Creeky chairs, marble tables, old display cupboards with aging signs, cobwebs, dark lighting, steady hum of old fans. Most importantly, they had this warm radio from the forties that played old Hindi film tunes, and strangely enough, obscure American Psychedilic rock. The shopkeep had taken over when his father died, and sat behind this large wooden bar taking money all day. He had impeccable English, we talked about stocks for some reason. The cavernous back rooms where the kitchen bathroom living quarters had no electricity or running water and really hadn't changed since the building had been erected. I absolutely loved this place, I never wanted to leave. I spent about 6 hours there and drank about thirteen cups of coffee ,(they were small though), while conceptualizing with my friend Christoph about a non profit community based cafe/bookshop with a subcontinent focus that we want to start in the US in due time (I might elaborate about this more later). Good times.

Man, I think I studied the wrong language, I should have studied Malayalam in college (by the way my Hindi does absolutely nothing down here, Hindi is within the Aryan language family, while Malayalam is in the Dravidian family, so there are very few similarities in vocabulary, pronunciation and script. I am completely helpless here which has been a huge source of frustration, although my Hindi isn't great, I can get by and am much more comfortable in this regard, traveling in the North).

Alright my head feels like it is about to fall off, I still feel like I am on a boat. But hope that your New Year's was merry!

Christmas Eve

Hello y'all,
I have swapped the posh Juhu life to move in with my friend Cheryl who lives in the slums of Jogeshwari, a former dairytown transformed into a giant slum, more or less, by the urban sprawl of Bombay megacity. Luckily the process occurred about thirty years ago, giving it immunity to government landgrabs, meaning sweet, sweet housing security for Cheryl, who has been having trouble finding a place. Her room is warm and cozy, but quite tiny with no running water, upstairs (which means unbearably hot) and with an asbestos covered tin roof (which makes it even hotter). For toilet accommodations there is a drain in the corner for urine and a bring-your-own-water shared toilet further down the slums for other business. Although it has been tight staying with her and my friend Rose, and my back is a little sore from sleeping on the concrete, I actually have preferred staying at her place over the Shreedar's bollywood beachside flat.

I really commend her for the bare bones lifestyle in which she lives and how she never complains about it. Although I do realize how difficult it is for any foreigner, especially a women, to live in India, it is refreshing to hear Cheryl lack of complaint about her living situation, especially after the group vent at the midpoint retreat last week.

The experience for me has broken many of my conceptions of the slum. For one, all slums are not utterly impoverished, there are varying levels of and within slums in terms of economic status. People get by, they work hard and don't have much materially, but few people go hungry. Compared to my experience in Juhu, with wealthy individual living in these castles cordoned off by barbwired walls and security guards, it is a nice change to live for a few days in a completely open and close knit community where everyone knows and for the most part, cares for each other, shares food. We have been able to meet so many warm hearted people in her neighborhood and all of her social activist neighbors (I actually got to spend Eid, a Muslim holiday eating delicious mutton and chicken, so long Ashram lifestyle).

Tonight should be fun, Cheryl's friends have started a library and student group in their slum and tonight we will sing some social activist songs that they have written and do some program with some kids I guess. Then Rose, Cheryl, some of her friends, and myself will have a gift swap. We are out Benjamin who is sadly stuck in Istanbul with visa troubles preventing his flight here this morning. Hopefully he can get it all sorted out soon and meet up with us in Kerala.

Hope everyone has a merry Christmas, and perhaps hope you all will open a present for you Bombay buddy.

All of you are in my thoughts.

Educational Surveys

I wrote this blog quite a while ago, but haven't had the adequate internet access to post it, so here it is, just in time for the holidays:

In this holiday season, I would like to share some of my experiences and thoughts with you that will hopefully make us all think about what we are truly thankful for, and what we can do to contribute to humanity.

As part of a grant we recently received from Plan International, for the last couple weeks, some colleagues and I have been traveling around the rurals of Uttarakhand in means to ascertain a baseline of the quality of education in government schools. For the next two months straight, we will be busy with teachers trainings, which means have around 50 government students and teachers at our school. The survey will hopefully show that, an academic year from now, that our trainings have brought out a change in the teachers. Unfortunately I am not so hopeful.

The survey experience, for me, was a mixture of extraordinary beauty and terrible depression. It would be hard not to find the beauty in the subtle differences of each area of Uttarakhand, from the awe inspiring Ganga flowing through Uttarkashi, carving out stark mountainous walls on either side, to Gairsain, with its more moderate foothill mountains, densely covered with oak and pine forests. This region continues to surprise me; around every bend is impressive new scenery.

There was also the beauty of all of the children we encountered as well, so curious, so creative so much potential. When we first visited each classroom, the children's submissive nature was quite apparent; the classroom had an oppressive atmosphere, children sat straight and silent, while their lumbering thuggish teachers wandered about. But outside of the teacher's eyes, the layers quickly melted and they opened up to us a bit. But I really cannot forget their beautiful smiles and laughter.

First of all, let it be said I live in a bubble. The children and teacher at our school transcend these labels, opting instead for a more familial relationship. It is paramount at our school for the child to realize the equality of all people, including their teacher. Out of this a learning partnership is formed, where everyone is learning and challenging each other. In the morning we all meditate and sing together; in the classroom, all sit around the teacher, and in the lower grades, mostly on the laps of the teacher. Although I had read the literature about the realities of the Indian educational system: physical abuse, terrible infrastructure, the high dropout and low performance levels, I had been coaxed into this idyllic environment. It wasn't that I didn't believe that that was out there, that this milieu existed, but, given that all of my time here, I don't think I wanted to.

The true reality of education in government schools in India, is that they are like those of the military: and bad ones at that. Every morning, children stand in ordered lines, numbering off then barking out call and responses as if they were at boot camp. They then file into their classrooms and into more prescribed lines, where they sit quietly, and if they don't sit quietly they get beat, if they miss an answer they get beat, in fact, if they are Nepali or from a lower caste, different from the rest they get beat. Beatings are rampant. In every school without exception, the teachers continuously beat the children, at one school, to the point that the village chief, or Pradhan, filed several forms trying to get him removed, unfortunately to no avail. Chalk that one up to inefficient and irresponsible governance. Obviously, the teachers would not admit to such beatings, except for one teacher, with disarming candor, actually beat her children in front of us. She admitted to us that she had no idea how or why she became a teacher.

This might be why: teaching positions are highly coveted in the villages because the high wages (I know that teacher's salaries make up more than 85% of the Central Government's educational budget) and the strength of the teacher's union makes it virtually impossible to be fired. These two factors lead to absenteeism, with many teachers showing up less than half of the days they are suppose to. We went to six schools, despite the teacher's knowing that we were coming, at every school, only one teacher was present.

In India's Constitution and included in almost every five year plan following, there is much verbage about dedication to universal education reflecting the sentiments of many international organizations, but in practice little has changed. Sure many more students have enrolled, but with the quality component of education virtually devoid in the current governmental educational regime, the obvious civic and social utilities of education (increased participation in politics and civil society organizations, increased economic opportunities and social mobility, etc.) are denied to these children. Therefore, in practice, the school system almost resembles more of a day care scheme for most, staving off the hard realities of their parent's lives for a couple years, until that same adulthood is superimposed onto them. This observation was echoed by many community members that we talked to, who felt that many parents had come to accept that their children were not learning much substantively in the government school, so they view the schools more as day care centers and a free meal (with the Mid Day Meal Scheme) for their children.

Another observation that we made was that there was one teacher at every school for 40 or 50 children. I'll give that to the teachers: it is a difficult task to balance the needs of this many children coming from five different classes. But, here's a novel idea, how about trying? All of the teachers we talked to absolved all responsibility to the government, saying that they are given too much work outside of school to teach properly. Sure they are given letters to write, tasks like getting census info, giving out identity cards to villagers, but, this shouldn't take up too much of their time, seeing that the Indian work week is 6 days a week, and school is only for about 6 hours. There is plenty of time for the small remedial tasks while teaching. One teacher during our recent teacher trainings said, 'Each day I give about an hour to the children, with my other work, isn't that enough?' The other work, a couple of letters she had to write to the government in a week. Sickening.

This absolutions sets up a dangerous chain of apathy: the parents blame the teachers and think that they can't do anything because teachers are lazy and don't care, so the either don't send their kids to school or send them with no real hope of them learning anything. The teachers blame the government and think that they can't do anything because they have other burdens and few resources, so they predominately don't try. The government blames the social issues in the community and is so corroded with corruption they aren't even capable of fixing a broken chair in a school let alone the lack of quality in the schools.

But change must start somewhere. It could start with the parents and communities taking a stake in their children's education, hinted at the above example of the Pradhan. WIth vigorous participation and chopping through this apathy, teachers themselves will be held accountable by their community and different levels of government will start to take notice. Teachers can also realize the importance of their profession and strive to become quality educators. We have heard of a small handful of teachers in Uttarkashi who have actually invested a good portion of their paycheck into their school, giving their lives fully to their children. Teachers can stop blaming others, and take the responsibility on themselves. The government can be held more accountable to shine light on faceless dangerous actions of the bureaucracy. During our AIF orientation, a speaker came to inform us about the Right to Information Act, which enables citizens to obtain governmental documents in question. Although the system has some set backs, the prospects are promising, and to combat the terrible condition of the education system (such as the Pradhan plight through the governmental bureaucracy).

But this all means that somebody has to stand up, and once one does many will follow. That is what we are trying to do with our teacher's workshops, we focus on empowering the children while also trying to invigorate the teachers. In our school, we try to involve the older children in the education process of the younger. This develops personality and self confidence for the older and benefits the younger with a teacher with more relevant experience to their situation (I don't think that any teacher could fully relate to the child's learning process , in that they learned the concepts so long ago, most have computerized the knowledge in their brain, they know what it is and what answers are, but not necessarily why or how it works). Through the surveys, we also learned that many of the teachers didn't actually know competently many of the concepts that they were trying to teach, and admitted that they really didn't have the energy to learn them at this point. But children have boundless energy, curiosity and an impeccable sense of inquiry. Why not tap into this energy to teach and motivate each other, having the teacher be more like a facilitator of discussions and knowledge, instead of forcibly and halfheartedly slopping government syllabus concepts into the child's mind, one after another like on a conveyer belt?

Teachers, thus far, have be more or less receptive of this idea, but we will see what happens when they return to their schools and we do a follow up three months from now. We realize the difficulty of this argument, but we are placing our cards on the fresh minds of the children. We believe that a child's revolution needs to take place to break this danger chain of absolution.

I have been thinking about this lately in terms of how our (being from 'western' developed countries) actions affect those in developing countries and want to take a step back and examine how we all fit within this chain of absolution, but I think I will elaborate a later when I have a bit more time.

Bombay Holidays

So, quite a bit of a departure from my heavenly mountain abode perched atop the Himalayas, I write to you from the thick of the richest part of India, Juhu beach, where I am surrounded by bollywood stars and IT gurus, some of the richest people in the WORLD. Strange. I just spent three american bucks on a delicious cup of coffee. uggh. (but delicious, much better than the Nescafe I drink daily). Tonight, as a contrast only Bombay could provide, I will being staying with a friend (Hindi Program Cheryl, or Kranti) in a slum just down the street. Vah!

I came down the mountains to participate in a midpoint retreat with the other fellows, and after its completion, I have been staying in a major donor and player in AIF, Shreedar's beach house. This actually has been quite an intense experience for me, the pollution of the city, the sprawling slums, the oppressive heat, the wealth, the poverty. Although I have been gone for a matter of days, I find myself constantly have been thinking about Anjanisain, the children, the ashram, the mountains. I'll have to get used to it seeing that I will be traveling for the next month.

I am waiting for a couple friends (Rosie and Yakima Benjamin) here after a midpoint retreat with the fellows, then we will travel around the south of this amazing country, an area vastly different than any other parts of India I have traveled to. It will be nice to spend the holidays with good friends when my beloved family is so far away.

Although mountain considerations have prevented me from being accessible for communication, now that I am in an area with plenty of internet opportunities, I will most likely be busy with travel and not able to utilize such opportunities, but i will do my best to play catch with email for those who have tried to contact me.

pranam and happy holidays y'all