20 June 2010

So we were once again paraded around in saris today. The girls gave us hairstyles that were so tight they were painful… it reminded me of color guard competitions in high school.

After lunch, Sister Rani took us around the village to meet some families. It was nice to finally meet some of the people that stare at us awkwardly at Sunday mass. First we met Prajwal’s family—his parents, grandparents, sister, and cousin. I now understand why he is the way he is. He looks exactly like his father (though Christi and I secretly hope that Prajwal doesn’t go for that 70’s style moustache when he grows up). His parents were so talkative, though they didn’t speak English, so Sister Rani had to do some translating. Mostly they just spoke amongst themselves, as if Christi and I could follow allow and catch all their jokes. Prajwal himself was at the convent doing his homework. I feel a little guilty about that, since he’d been begging us to come to his house for weeks now and he wasn’t even there when we did.

An entire hour and lemonade later, we made our way out. The next house we visited was a really nice house. It’s huge in comparison to all the others. Most of the houses here resemble large huts and are small, single story, with about three rooms. This house was two stories tall with lots of rooms and fancy interior decorating. The girl that invited us in couldn’t have been much older than us. She actually knew some English, though I’m not sure how. We met what seemed like her extended family, and she gave us cookies and orange soda (which Christi and I both hate). Her mother told me that I look like the Virgin Mary. This is probably because I’m white and my sari is blue, and Mary wears a blue sari in most Indian images of her (that incident also marked the third time someone told me that today). That was one of the few things her mother actually said, as most of the family preferred to just stare at us as if we were a zoo exhibit. Anyways, this girl, whose name I don’t know, is apparently going to be our village tour guide. She’s going to take Christi and I to a different house every afternoon from now on, so we can meet all the villagers. The added benefit of this is that she gets to practice her English. It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure. I wish we knew Kannada so that we could communicate with these people.

We came back from our village visit to find one of our tutoring students, Ambika, sobbing and inconsolable. We found out that one of the high school girls, Rosaline, asked three of the girls we tutor to write out the alphabet. Shylu and Ashwini succeeded in doing it from memory, though they have no idea what the letters actually are. Ambika couldn’t do it, and so Rosaline instructed Ashwini to beat Ambika with a ruler. I’m sure this was accompanied by plenty of verbal abuse, as well. I know that when you have 70-80 young girls living together under one roof, you’re bound to have drama and some situations straight out of “Mean Girls,” but there seems to be too much acceptance and tolerance of this behavior. Certain girls seem to think they’re better than others and therefore assume they have a duty to make the others feel bad about themselves. I’m sure their ego is a product of their background or some sort of defense mechanism, but it’s so frustrating to watch them tear apart the more innocent girls. Of the three girls we tutor, Ambika is by far the smartest and possesses the most genuine work ethic. I only wish her English was better so we could communicate that to her.

So, the running water also decided to stop working this afternoon. Conveniently, this happened at the very moment when I decided that I was going to take a shower. Christi and I feared the worst in terms of when it would come back on, but miraculous, the power AND the water came back a mere two hours later. So I not only got a full bucket of water, but a heated bucket of water.

Oh, another funny story. Most our meals here are vegetarian, but about once a week, they serve meat at lunch and/or dinner. So far, we’ve only seen chicken, but rumor has it they also commonly consume pigeon and rabbit (though I’m hoping it’s not the girls’ pet rabbits). Christi and I generally consume little to none of this said chicken. However, at tonight’s meal, we went with “little” instead of “none.” This proved to be a mistake. Christi was making faces at me over the lantern light during the meal, but I couldn’t figure out why. In hindsight, this was lucky, because if I knew why she was laughing, I probably would’ve stopped eating. When we went to go wash our dishes, Christi pointed out the piece of chicken on her plate… which contained a clearly identifiable beak. Yes, the beak. In other words, Christi was served a chicken head for dinner. Brains and all. All I have to say on the matter is that I’m glad it wasn’t me.

It’s almost time to go to sleep, which means it’s also time for Christi and I to discuss what we think tomorrow’s breakfast might be. It’s one of our favorite pastimes, since breakfast is by far our favorite meal of the day. Also, this pastime distracts me from thinking about things like Studebagels, Friendly’s, and bad American food that doesn’t contain beaks.

Happy Father’s Day!


21 June 2010

So about those village visits… those are officially on hold for this week. Sister Maria has education exams beginning on the 25th, so yesterday she left for Bangalore to study. God knows she can’t study here, as the decibel level at any given minute could make a person cringe. Obviously we don’t know the details, but it seems she’ll be in Bangalore all week. With another teacher absent from school for some other reason, we’re understaffed (and I’d say we were understaffed to begin with). Christi and I splitting up and alternating 5th and 6th standard in the morning, and teaming back up to handle a combined 3rd and 4th for two straight hours in the afternoon. I had to raise my voice so much this afternoon that my throat started to hurt. I hate having to do that, but I have no idea how else to get these kids to listen. Waiting patiently and asking nicely goes nowhere. Christi asked her mother to send Ritalin—we’re thinking of just dumping a bottle into the curry at lunch. It’d be an interesting experiment… just kidding. I wish.

I taught the 6th standard kids the word “crazy” today. This was obviously in reference to Prajwal, who was prancing around the classroom, muttering and singing to himself in a made-up language. They kept referring to him as “loose,” very unaware of the connotation this word has in the English-speaking world. I’m hoping the word “crazy” sticks. In the meantime, as long as Prajwal refrains from climbing windows and trying to kill frogs with his feet, he’s free to be as “crazy” as his heart desires.

Also, today seemed to be the day of foot injuries. Two different girls today had pieces of glass and stones embedded in the soles of their feet. Had they been wearing shoes, this could have been prevented, but not many students bother to wear them while at school (if ever). When presented with the first incident, I sent the girl away to Sister Rani, assuming she’d pluck the stone out of Shilpa’s foot with tweezers and put a bandage on it. False. Shilpa limped back to class, handed me a safety pin, and stuck her foot out. Uhhh, I don’t think so. Margaret took over for me, and she and her friend performed minor surgery in the back of the classroom. Coincidentally, in the following class, a girl named Pavitra complained to me about glass in her foot. As class continued on, she seemed to be in more and more pain, so I went over to check on her. Of course, she immediately handed me a safety pin. Seriously? Luckily the bell rang, and she leaned on my arm to limp home for lunch.

By the time tutoring rolled around, Christi and I were both pretty tired. We’ve added more girls to our group, so now we split up and alternate each evening. We kept the original three together, and the second group includes another Ashwini from 6th standard (this must have been a popular name in 1998) and Sunita, Pujpa, and Nagu from 4th standard. I’m not picking favorites, but I really like Sunita because she’s always smiley and excited to learn. Anyways, I was working with the original three tonight, and Ambika is still really down in the dumps from the alphabet incident yesterday. She seems absolutely miserable, and she wouldn’t even give high-fives during the memory game (which she of course won regardless). She just sort of sits there, stares off into space, and doesn’t respond. We tried to cheer her up with candy, but I don’t think it worked. Sister Mary is going to talk to her, since she’s clearly in need of a pep talk. Hopefully she gets better soon.

Now that we’re almost done to a month left, the girls are starting to get upset over the idea of us leaving. Jyothi has told me multiple times that she’s going to find an Indian boy for me to marry—“you marry Indian boy, then you stay.” Unless she runs into Dev Patel wandering the streets, I don’t think there’s any reason to worry about this coming to fruition. Even if she did, I think I’d be a little concerned as to why a movie star is meandering around Josephnagar… but whatever.



23 June 2010

So, just for the record, our tutoring group has expanded to include ten girls now. Sister Rani keeps sending us new girls, and I’m afraid eventually she’s going to send us the entire 4th standard class. We separated the group into two, splitting up the original trio of Shylu, Ambika, and Ashwini. This seems to have helped with the drama issues… for now.

In the meantime, Sister Mary left for Bangalore on Tuesday, so now we’re down another person of authority. Of course, Christi and I have no idea when Sister Mary or Sister Maria is coming back. Typical.

I think all the 5th and 6th standard kids are getting sick of having English class for four periods in a row. Focusing for one period is usually enough of a struggle for them. Today we had a spelling bee in 6th standard, with their list of words they’ve been studying for a good week now. Only two kids knew how to spell anything, Savitha and Prajwal. Not suprising, since I think Savitha has a really good memory and Prajwal probably studies for hours every night. Prajwal won the spelling bee, so he gets a prize. When I told him this, he looked like someone had just announced that he won the Nobel Peace Prize. In this case, the Nobel Peace Prize happens to be a lollipop.


24 June 2010

So Christi and I walked into class with the high school girls this morning, thinking we were going to go over some grammar. We collected the girls’ homework assignment, to once again see that the majority of them had copied one another. We decided it was time to law down the law, so we made all the copiers sit in the back of the classroom and rewrite the whole assignment. AND told them they have to write the word list 25 times. Only six girls in the whole class were exempt from this punishment. I’m curious as to whether they’ll start taking us seriously now. As Christi (and Machiavelli) said, it’s better to be feared than loved? This is going to be our approach for the next few days… until they start passing spelling tests.

On a lighter note, I gave Prajwal his lollipop today. He has since showed it me at least ten times. I know he’s saving it so he can show it to his family at home. He also finished his classwork early, so he came up to talk to me at my desk. He spent the next twenty minutes examining the differences between our mechanical pencils. He asked me if I wanted to trade. I told him he could just take mine. I think this is officially one of the best weeks of his life. He was so excited. He ended up giving me a normal Indian pencil as a “gift” to show his gratitude.

Anyways, unfortunately I don't have too much time to write since Christ and I are busy dealing with these con-artists. The amount of cheating, bleeding, and crying that has been going on in our classrooms has outdone the amount of genuine work being done, I think. A single period doesn't go by without AT LEAST two of those three things happening. If not worse.

June 20, 2010




Well there is no electricity AND water now. Just when you thought living conditions couldn’t get any more archaic, they do. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say that living conditions are that archaic. I mean, in comparison to a lot of other places I’ve seen here, I guess this is like the Hilton of India.



Luckily, living conditions are the least of my worries here. But I’ll explain more of that in a bit.



First, I want to tell you about what we did today. Actually, I’ll start with what we wore today. So Allison and I came to India with the goal of purchasing saris to wear around. We bought them back in Bangalore. When we went to open them up, we noticed that there was a sticker that said “Blouse included”. We thought to ourselves, “Oh good….we didn’t even know you needed blouses for them…” When we got to Hassan, we unfolded the sari, and noticed that there was no blouse to be found. It turns out that the blouse was actually there….still in the fabric, and waiting to be made into a blouse. We got it made for a few hundred rupees…don’t worry, that’s only a couple of US dollars.



Welll, last night, we tried them on for the first time. We actually wore them to the children’s night mass. Our my-size-Barbie days hit a high point last night, as the girls literally did everything they could to make us look like Indian princesses (which apparently includes green glitter all over our faces). Bindis and all, we were the hit of Mass. Today, we decided to wear them again to the village Mass. Again, all eyes were on us, which is really awkward because in the first place, eyes are on us because people are confused by our existence here. All of our students got a huge kick out of our Indian-ness. So many people were impressed by us, that we have been encouraged throughout the day to marry an Indian boy. Haha, Mom, what do you say about that? Somehow I think I might get in trouble if I came home with a husband, but that might just be me.



Okay, so that’s how our day started. We decided to stay in the saris until teatime, but we didn’t do this for fun. Last week, I asked if we could do village ministry, and today was finally that day! We decided we wanted to make a good first impression by wearing a sari. That was a little uncomfortable, but I guess it’s in the name of fashion.



We stopped at three houses today. The first was Prajwal’s house. Unfortunately, he was not there since he was at the convent in study hall. However, we met his mom, dad, sister, and cousin. Prajwal and his dad look exactly the same. It was kind of scary looking at his father because the similarity was disturbing. Like a carbon copy. His cousin was only a couple of years old, and followed me in by the hand. I picked her up, and I’m convinced she was really sick. She was sitting on me, and I felt like she was wheezing or something. She might have just been a gassy little kid, but it was really weird. It made me wonder about the medical treatment that would be available to her. From my own first hand experience, I worry about these kids. Prajwal’s mom served us drinks, which was a really nice thought of her. However, it was slightly frightening. When she brought it out, it was this murky liquid. As she hands my glass to me, I’m thinking “Good thing I brought Xifaxan.” If you don’t know what Xifaxan is, then you should know that you would need it if you drank the water in Mexico. Turns out that it was just lemonade….which to me, was just as bad. It was still really nice of them. She also gave us very nice flowers for our hair, which is the Indian thing to do.



The next house we went to was the house of a girl about our age and her family (like her mom, dad, and grandparents). She wanted to practice her English, but she was kind of shy. Her family was…….well, they weren’t like Prajwal’s family. Prajwal’s family talked A LOT. We were there for like an hour….not that we knew what anyone was actually talking about because they were all speaking in the local language. Apparently, we looked like we knew what they were saying since they asked if we understood them. That’s what I call my confused face.



Anyway, back to this one family. They were stone faced. It was actually really awkward. One of my more awkward moments in India, which is definitely saying something. They stared and stared. They were completely different from their daughter, who was pretty much begging that we go in her house. Again, this girl was very nice. She wanted to become a nun, but then realized she didn’t. This is why she knows a little English. She said she didn’t know how to cook, so instantly I liked her. More importantly, she didn’t plan on learning. That’s pretty bold for India.



She was very hospitable and served us biscuits and orange soda…..I LOVED the biscuits…but if you know me, you know I don’t like soda. So again, something I had to gulp down in a non-disgusted face. Truly a miracle. Regardless it’s really nice of these people to serve snacks.



Oh which reminds me….for dinner tonight, my parade of things I dislike followed me. Tonight’s special: Chicken Marsala. Tonight’s extra special: Chicken Head Marsala. Meat is rare here. When I saw chicken marsala, I thought it was great because it was the first dish I actually recognized outside of rice. Welllll, it also turns out to be one of the few dishes I was completely disgusted by. For once, the bird brain wasn’t me, but rather, the bird brain was my food. Literally. I was pulling out bones, and the first one I pulled out was a weird shape….a little too round. It kind of reminded me of a brain cavity, but I gave it the benefit of the doubt. The next bone I pulled out was a beak. A BEAK. Yup, definitely a chicken head. And there were DEFINITELY brains in it still. Yuck.



Back to the rest of my village story. While we were at this house, I learned something new about India. People come and go from houses here as if the whole village was a shopping center. Everyone walks in anywhere. This probably is the reason why I got locked out of the convent tonight. Which is another tangent, but I’ll tell you it now. I was on the computer checking my email tonight at about 6:30 pm. I finished up at about 7:15 pm, and discovered that the kids were in Adoration. Unfortunately, the big metal doors had been closed, so I struggled to open them quietly, and then closed it behind me quietly. Then I see the next set of doors. They are locked. I don’t know what to do so I just stand there with a dumb look on my face. Then I decide I could probably get in from the side doors. Nope, those are locked too. So I sit in the dark for about 20 minutes waiting for someone. Later, they explain that villagers will just walk in if the doors are left open. Makes sense after today.



Okay, now really back to the village. After this girls house, we went to the house across the street. This house was also very different. There was a grandma and her grandson, who is mentally disabled. Apparently, he has “fits” aka bursts of rage. He went to the doctor and was prescribed “tablets”, but apparently it doesn’t work very much, supposedly. They explained that he was undiagnosable. I wonder if he couldn’t be diagnosed in the US. What he suffers from does not seem to be all that uncommon, but then again, I’m not a doctor, thank God. Anyway, we later learned that this boy is the son of the cowhand at the convent.



Oh at the end of this village story, it turns out that the young girl at the second house is going to take us into the village every day now….this should be interesting. Hopefully there are more biscuits and less soda slash other drinks that scare me.



When we returned, we found that one of the girls we tutor was sobbing. We asked what had happened, and the high school girls that were supposed to be helping explained that she couldn’t write her ABCs, which to me, isn’t a reason to cry so much. There had to be more to the story. We took Ambika aside, and found Sr. Rani to translate for us. Apparently, because she couldn’t write her ABCs, the high school girls made Ashwini, one of our other students, hit her with a ruler. Here is the irony. Ambika is the smartest one of the group, and is the only one who actually can recognize letters. Ashwini, on the other hand, has a mental disability. She’s definitely not all there and definitely does not know the alphabet. Anyway, I was furious at this point. I went over to the high school girls and lectured them that hitting wasn’t the way to teach kids, and if they are ever to work with our girls again, then they can’t hit them. Anyway, I’m sure they had no idea what I was saying. I wanted to slap the girl that told Ashwini to hit Ambika…but I felt like that might defeat the purpose. Grrrrrr. Don’t mess with the people we tutor. The girl that caused this is actually a pretty funny person in herself. She always looks angry. That she would do this doesn’t surprise me at all. Every time she smiles, her face cracks a bit.



So okay, now I’ll work backwards in time to tell you about some things I forgot to tell you about within the past week or so. On Saturday, there was an Installation Ceremony at the school in preparation for India’s Independence Day, which happens to be on August 15th. Anyway, the kids elected leaders of the school to lead them in a competition against each other. The leaders are supposed to make sure everyone does their homework, study, etc. I’m still waiting to see this happen in terms of English class. It was funny because some of the kids that were elected also happen to be the naughtiest kids in the classes and also the pushiest. Some of them are great, and definitely deserve the position. But I guess all school elections are the same, regardless of country. It’s just a popularity contest.



Now on Friday, Allison was sick, so it was me vs. 90 kids. Kind of. It went by fairly smoothly, with all of the normal problems of fighting and talking out of turn, etc. etc. Then I got to 3rd and 4th standard…combined. This was a death sentence in itself. The two classes together ALWAYS equals trouble. No doubt about it. I taught for the first 45 minutes with almost no problem…or at least, no new problems. Then came the second 45 minutes. See, no one had come to teach them, and I felt bad just leaving them there unattended. So I stayed, awaiting for the bad turn of events. It came when one of the girl’s mother to say goodbye to her. She had apparently been visiting for the day. Well, the girl went with her mom, ad the returned in tears. Pretty soon, other girls began to also miss their mothers, and there were 3 or 4 pairs of salty eyes in the class. Then the real fighting began. The hitting of heads with metal pencil cases, hitting people with books, and the good old-fashioned punch. Everything. As more and more people began to fight, more and more tears started to appear. I tried to control the fighting as much as possible, while comforting the sad kids. It was a mess. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did, of course. A handful of the kids had escaped the classroom, and were playing around outside. One of the teachers spotted this, and began her own style of punishment, slapping wrists with a bamboo stick. So at this point, I would say the cry count was up to approximately 10 or 12. Yup, that’s about half the class. The other half of the class was the half that hadn’t cried while fighting, and continued to brawl with each other. It was like watching a zoo, only the animals in this zoo viscously attack people.



Amidst this mess was Antony-Pujpa. I call her Pujpa. Anway, she was crying too, and I comforted her. We walked home together, and made friends. Now she’s always holding my hand when I see her. Her English is pretty bad, but she’s also getting special tutoring now.



Earlier in the week, I learned that Reconciliation happens every month here. The kids have to confess their sins EVERY month. Yup, it’s a lot of confessing. Well, I got into the spirit of seeking forgiveness and decided to give it a try. Really what happened was I agreed to it without thinking. When I thought about it, I realized that I didn’t know the Act of Contrition, etc. Luckily, I got a crash course from Sr. Anna about it all…minus the Act of Contrition. She was like a theology professor when she explained to me why we go to Reconciliation. It was pretty interesting. The priest was Indian, and so that was a first for me. He seemed more interested in talking about Hawai’i than he was in talking about my sins. All I can say is I have never felt like I wanted to talk more about my sins at a Reconciliation until this past week. What an accomplishment.



I also learned a lot this week about the violence that occurs against Christians here. I’m surprised that I hadn’t heard of some of the stories at all, because there are really terrible mass crimes that have occurred in this country. It’s sad to see that there isn’t more media coverage on all of the violence that exists here. Since the media isn’t really covering it, I guess I will write about it more. Here. Oh, but in my next blogskis.



Ummmm okay, well, I have to teach soon I suppose. Pray that I make it out alive.

PS-For this week, we are teaching double shifts, separately. We might actually not survive now. =p

19 June

19 June 2010

This morning, in lieu of the traditional school assembly, there was a swearing in ceremony for class leaders. Apparently at this time every year, the students elect leaders, one for each grade. Then, as a whole, the school is divided into teams, each with a 6th or 7th grade captain. The teams are for a competition that culminates on Independence Day, which is August 15th in India. The competition involves everything from classwork and grades to behavior and ethics. Think Harry Potter and the House Cup. There’s a prize for the winners, though I’m not sure what it is. Anyways. The class leaders and team captains got “sworn in” in front of their classmates. They were all dressed in white. Sister Maria told us that the positions are taken very seriously. They’re supposed to set an example for all the other students. I think we’re going to use this to our advantage over the next month.

So during class today, we played a G-rated version of “Hangman” that we like to call the “Flower Game.” Original, I know. Instead of drawing an executed person on the board, we draw a flower. It’s more family-friendly. We hadn’t yet introduced this game to 5th standard (since they can’t exactly spell), but we decided to attempt it today. They caught on fairly quickly (minus the spelling issues). However, this whole raise-your-hand rule? Not so much. They understand the raising their hands part, but then they proceed to jump up and down and scream out answers, or worse, beg us to call on them. “Auntie, Auntie! AUNTIIIIEEEE! Please, Auntie, PLEEEEASE!” Those screams haunt me in my sleep. Sahana, the class leader for 5th standard, was the worst beggar of them all. We scolded her for not setting a good example for the other kids, and she was quiet as a mouse for the next five minutes. Those were the best five minutes of the whole class.

Classes on Saturdays only run from 8:00 to 11:00, and after that, the students have recess for about half an hour. Usually during breaks or playtime, the girls like to play clapping/hand games with us, or games that resemble American games but have been modified to Indian standards (like Ring around the Rosie… which, here, is in some interesting Indian-English language that Christi and I still can’t decipher). Today, however, the boys decided to take over and make us play sports. For the majority of the time I played “shuttlecock” with Kiran, a boy in 7th standard. The game was pretty intense… he even got me to trip over a bag of dry cement lying in the yard. I was completely graceful about it, of course. By graceful, I mean that I think I sprained my toe, if that’s even possible.

The biggest event of the day was Christi’s and my transformations into complete Indians. Sister Mary had picked up our completed sari blouses from the tailor the night before, so Sister Maria came up to our rooms before teatime to help us try them on. So. Much. Fabric. Putting on a sari is a complicated process, in case you were wondering. It involves a lot of pinning and wrapping and folding. When we were finished, Sister Maria gushed over how “cute” we looked and then she paraded us around the convent. The girls freaked out, to put it nicely. After tea we got attacked with hairbrushes and bindis and even glitter for our faces. Yes, glitter… then necklaces, bangles, rings, watches, and earrings. An entire hour later, the girls dragged us around the grounds for a photo shoot (ha, just wait until you see these photos). We went to evening mass dressed in our saris. Keeping our heads covered using the extra material was difficult… and the women make it look so easy on Sunday mornings.

After mass, we came back to find the girls watching TV. We thought they were watching the news, but we were mistaken. First of all, the program wasn’t in Kannada or Hindi, it was in Tamil, a language spoken in a different state of India (two girls tried to teach me some of it the other day… I failed). I’m not sure how many girls here understand Tamil, but it can’t be that many. Anyways, it turns out that this program was a movie, and not just any movie, it was an English movie dubbed over in Tamil. It was most definitely a horror movie. If there’s a Final Destination 5, that’s probably what it was. Sister Maria said the girls are going to keep us up all night because they’ll scream in their sleep… I’m just glad I wasn’t forced to watch it.

Speaking of which, I’m off to sleep, but a few last comments before I go:
1. It is not easy to walk in a sari. I don’t know how women do things like work or dance in them. Yikes. I’m busy worrying about mine falling off.
2. They served potato chips at tea today. Sister Maria was surprised to hear that we have these in America.
3. Now all I need to do to be 100% Indian is get my nose pierced. Haha, JUST KIDDING, Mom. There is no way that I would let anyone in this country anywhere near me with something that resembles a needle.

10 June to 19 June

10 June 2010

Tonight we finished supper relatively early, so we sat down with the older girls for a while as they were finishing theirs. They taught us how to say “Did you finish your supper?” and “I did” in Kannada. Yes, I’ve already forgotten how to say it. They reviewed the body parts—now I can remember the words for eyes, nose, mouth, lips, teeth, ears, throat, earrings, AND bracelet. I’m such a good student. One girl then began telling me the nicknames of her friends. Apparently EVERYONE in this convent has a nickname. The nicknames translate to English phrases like “black cow” and “black crow.” Shobha’s nickname (she’s our star speller) is pronounced like “goober” and translates to “owl.” I’m wondering if it’s because she’s smart so the girls are implying she’s a nerd (you know, like the owl-wearing-glasses image) . This would only work, however, if animals have the same representation in India as they do in America… and not many things are the same between these two countries.

The girls also enjoy dressing us up. Today Jyothi, a girl from 8th standard, gave us bangles to wear. They barely fit over our hands, so we almost couldn’t get them off. Sunday is the big dress-up day though. Last Sunday they put flowers in our hair, gave us necklaces, AND painted our nails. Sister Mary has warned us that they have the same thing planned for next Sunday. It’s like we’re their dolls or pet animals (sorry, Princess, now I know how you feel). Luckily it’s painless and they absolutely love it. It’s probably the best entertainment we have to offer.












13 June 2010

So yesterday was Sister Maria’s birthday. It was quite the affair. They served cake both before and with breakfast. The morning assembly at school included two dance performances, one by the youngest girls (all dressed in frilly pink dresses with glitter on their faces) and one by the oldest girls. Saturdays are only half days, so school was done by 11:30am. I had brought my camera with me, and after class the kids went a little crazy taking pictures. I think Indians have a predisposition to understanding technology, because they figured out how to work my camera in about two seconds, and took about 60 photos over the following half hour. They also decided it was necessary to re-paint my nails… only eight of my nails are red though, my two pinky nails are hot pink. It sort of resembles a manicure I might have given myself when I was five. We spent most of the afternoon hanging out with the girls… I think our relationship is more like a show poodle than a pet animal now. They styled and re-styled our hair, and they gave us bindis (as usual). With every style change, they “ooh” and “ahh” over us. “Super!” “Super, Auntie, super!” They drag us around to show all the girls. And then they do it again.

In evening, the boarders put on a show for Sister Maria that involved traditional dances and skits. At the end, Sister Maria asked Christi and I to dance for her… the girls took us up front and taught us some of their moves. Good thing I left my pride in America. The dancing continued on after dinner until Sister Maria ordered everyone to bed.

It’s been pretty rainy here these last few days so it actually feels pretty cool outside. The girls are still finding ways to make me sweat though. The little ones discovered yesterday that I can help them jump really high by lifting them up in the air. They made me do this over and over and over, until I couldn’t feel my arms. Even the older girls were asking me to lift them. It was probably the best arm workout I’ve had in a really long time.

Tomorrow is Monday, which means back to school. I’m hoping to finish learning names this week, since there are still a handful of names I don’t know. Too many kids either have the same name or a name I can’t pronounce. Although it’s made more difficult by the inconsistency of our class schedule. We always start off teaching 6th standard, but then it’s hit or miss what happens next. Sometimes we’re in 6th standard for almost two hours. Like I said, I don’t think there’s any word for “organization” in Kannada.



17 June 2010

So by “pretty cool here,” I actually mean it’s cold. It’s been raining pretty much every day now. Christi and I have been wearing sweaters and jackets. We also discovered that the nuns in Bangalore DID pack my sweatshirt and our books… in the outer pockets of my suitcase. Oops. Good thing I’m so observant. So anyways, Megan Kloet, I am now getting use out of the sweatshirt you laughed at me for bringing. =p

Oh, and for good measure, I’d like to note a correction here, if Christi hasn’t already. Sister Annie’s name is actually Sister Rani. It sounds exactly like “Sister Annie” because the ‘r’ of Sister is slurred into her name. So we haven’t sounded like idiots or anything for the past three weeks, don’t worry.

Anyways. On Tuesday morning at 11:00, all four of the Sisters left the grounds for the day to visit a shrine to St. Anthony. They of course gave us advance warning that they were abandoning us. Sister Rani made sure to come into our classroom at 10:59 to let us know. They were gone until dinner time, but luckily the teachers and college (16 and 17 year old) girls kept order in the place. Their absence meant we were down a teacher or two at the school, so entire classrooms of students were left to their own devices. I’m sure you can imagine the chaos that followed. When the Sisters returned, they gave Christi and I each a bracelet that they’d bought for us at the shrine. These women are so sweet, they’re always thinking about us and trying to make us feel at home. I think they’re more grateful to have us since they weren’t originally supposed to be receiving any summer volunteers. And yet, here we are.

Our evening tutoring sessions are starting to pick up. It’s just three girls now—Ambika, Ashwini, and Shylu (it was a little too slow for Lakshmi). We’re still working on the letters A through I, but we’re finally making progress. We taught them how to high-five this week, and they love it. We’ve been playing memory with them, and every time they get a pair, they immediately want a high-five. It’ silly, but it gets them excited about learning. Shylu’s attitude issues are getting better, too. She’s usually really sassy with us, but she’s been more giggly and smiley lately. Sister Maria told us she’s a relatively new boarding student and she was rescued from a slum environment, where community and family ties don’t exist in the way they do in other places. I can tell she’s really starting to make friends and fit in here, though.

Ok, we’re off to school, so more stories soon. Miss you all.



18 June 2010

I'd just like to quickly amend my last day's writing. Shylu is just as sassy as ever, as she demonstrated during last night's memory game. Also she's taken to sneezing on the cards that we use in the game... we think it's disgusting, therefore she thinks it's hilarious.

Oh yeah, also we ate THE spiciest meal in the world last night. I am never eating that vegetable again. Ever... seeing as how I couldn't keep it down. Waking up at 4:30 to puke my guts out was not on my list of things to do (I apologize if this is TMI for some of you). It was terrible. It was exponentially worse coming up than it was going down. Twelve hours later, and I am officially recovered.

Mrrrrr.

Up to June 15, 2010

June 15, 2010:




It’s getting progressively colder. That’s interesting because everyone told us how hot it would be, and even more interesting because most of my clothes are summer clothes. So now I’m sitting under my sheet/blanket with work pants and a hoodie, attempting to be bundled up. It’s been raining for…forever. I can’t remember when this weather started. But it’s been bad for a couple of days. I’m probably wearing sneakers to school. Sneakers with work pants. Fashion win…right? Oh well, I’m in the third world, so I guess fashion is relative. Which reminds me…because I’ve stopped wearing Indian clothes due to cold weather, the girls kind of give me funny looks, like a “Why would you wear that?” look. But it’s cold, and I’m warm, so it’s okay. Oh but back to the point of sneakers. I’m wearing sneakers because when it rains, the runoff is not rainwater. The runoff is water with buffalo and cow feces. I’m actually not really sure if the animals that the kids call buffalos are actually buffalos. They look like bulls to me.



In terms of the students, last night we tried to play a real game of memory with our three special students…the ones that are struggling. They are: Ashwini, Shylu, and Ambika. I don’t really know Ashwini’s story yet. Shylu is from the slums, and has quite the personality (not in a good way). Typical conversations with her sound as follows:



Me: “Shylu, write big R.”

Shylu: “No.”

Me: “Shylu, you have to write big R. There is no choice.”

Shylu: “No.” (scrunches face, shakes hand, indicating no.)

Me: “You have to do what I tell you. WRITE BIG R.”

Shylu: (walks away with sassy look on her face)

Me: “SHYLU, get back here NOW and write BIG R!”

Shylu: (sits down in her bench spot)

Me: (follow her to seat) “Okay, I followed you. Write Big R 40 times now.”

Shylu: (still refuses, but the realizes I’m not leaving until she does it, and begins to write big R)



She’s new here…so we try to cut her some slack, but homegirl has an attitude problem. Understandable, but still sometimes frustrating. Very frustrating. =p



Then there’s Ambika. She was a rag picker, and India’s version of Child Protective Services picked her up and brought her here. She hasn’t been to school in over a year. It’s easy to see this. She really struggles in class. But she’s a really sweet girl, very thankful to be learning. But we have our challenges with her too…



Me: “Ambika, what card is this?” (Showing the letter H, cards only include A-I)

Ambika: “C”

Me: “No…try again.”

Ambika: “D,E,F,G,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z”

Me: “I think you’re guessing.”

Ambika: (Laughs)



Then there’s Ashwini. I wonder if there’s something not right with her. She’s a very sweet girl, but she’s definitely in her own world.



Me: “Ashwini, what letter?”

Ashwini: (Laughs like she just heard the funniest joke)

Me: “Letter?”

Ashwini: (Laughs more)



Ashwini and Ambika are very difficult to understand, and even harder to get to pronounce words correctly. P’s, B’s, and F’s are pretty much lost on them.



Yup, sometimes I feel like we are teaching a special education class, which is a greattt way for two people who don’t know anything about teaching to start out. =p It makes for some great stories.



Oh, and I did my first official load of laundry yesterday. It involved a pajama shirt that I wore for approximately 2 weeks, my pink pajama pants, and 5 pairs of underwear (Do the math on that one.). =p Actually, underwear isn’t really included in laundry in my mind because that is washed daily. Although as for showers….that’s a whole different story. Well, I guess I could go into two stories here. A) My clothes are probably going to be wet for the next year seeing as it has been raining and there’s no sun.



And B) I love the scary metal coil that we use to heat our water. I started using it after I got sick because well….cold showers might be the reason I’m sick in the first place. They make showering so much more enjoyable. You hold the coil in the water for like 7 minutes (very precise) and it gets hot. It’s so great, I think I’ll shower every other day! =p (really, cold showers were terrible. It was freezing. Merh)



Okay, wellllll, the school day is about to start. Funfunfun!

June 5, 2010-June 12, 2010

So I haven’t been blogging because I think Google was suspicious when I started signing into this gmail account from India……anyway, I’m backkkk. Yay. It's all for Shea that I returned actually. Kidding!




June 5, 2010:



“One can cross the ocean without wetting one’s legs, but one cannot live a life without wetting one’s eyes.” These are the very poignant words of that yelling priest I told you about earlier. The one that turned out to be nice, if you remember. Just a little food for thought. But who are we kidding here, I am no philosophy major, so I can only dwell on philosophical ideas for a bit.



Let’s talk science. Something a little more real. So ummm, as of yesterday, I was concerned that there was going to be a Leishmaniasis breakout (shout out to anyone who took parasitology). But yeah, there were two kids with mysterious injuries. They continue to be mysterious. And untreated. Doesn’t seem like anyone is too concerned, which concerns me. There isn’t a concept of germ transmission. Needless to say, I am a hypochondriac, and so this is freaking me out. I have neosporined myself to death, and put bandages on EVERYTHING. My hands might need like, glove sized bandages with the amount that I’m washing my hands. Feel free to send Purel. Bodywash sized Purel.





I think there are some major cultural gaps that I don’t understand. Rather, I KNOW there are some cultural gaps I don’t get. Especially with like domestic and child abuse. I tried to ask if there are laws protecting people against abuse, but it was lost in translation. But yeah, so they were telling us about this girl Margaret. Margaret’s story isn’t that unique. Her dad is a drunkard and beats her mom. This girl is like, one of our smartest students. She’s like ten years old, and she can read years beyond the other kids in her class. She’s a genius. I guess she has asthma, and occasionally has panic attacks, from what it sounds like. She gets worried about her mom getting beaten by her dad. She thinks she’ll get hurt. My reaction to hearing that is that having panic attacks about something like that sounds really normal for a girl in her situation. It makes sense that she’s freaking out about something like that. In fact, I’m pretty amazed that Margaret is put together as much as she is. But the nuns I guess think that Margaret is too haughty, rather than thinking “wow look at how far this girl is coming.” Instead, Margaret gets scolded a lot. It makes sense at times because she is a little pushy, but I guess it’s just weird to me that the kids still make fun of her for crying.





Anyway, we think we are in a monsoon right now. There is rainwater seeping from under my door, leaking through the windows, and flooding everywhere else. Luckily, there aren’t any holes in our ceiling….that we’ve noticed. Yet. But this rain explosion definitely explains why there are wartime trenches EVERYWHERE in India. There doesn’t appear to be much drainage. It’s all collecting. There’s also thunder and lightning. I just pray that this isn’t THE flood, and that we don’t need to start an Ark. Noah started his Ark before the floods. Could we finish it before we would need it? Probably not, even as professional Irish procrastinators. All we have is cement. No wood.



(I apologize for this, but I’m reading the book “The Year of Living Biblically” by AJ Jacobs. Pretty funny when you’re living with some of the most religious kids and adults ever. Books are also more interesting to read in India.)



Anyway, the kids are pretty entertaining still. Except for the fact that possibly half of them are hyperactive. But it’s okay. Kids are kids, and so they’re fun. Indian children are much bolder than American children. Or rather, these Indian children are much bolder than the average child. They are always trying to tell us what to do. Always trying to become the teacher. They have tried many MANY times to trick us into letting them be the teacher. But you have to put your foot down…..which generally prompts a fight between students.



We gave our first two spelling tests yesterday. The high school girls and the sixth standard kids were our lucky test subjects. The high school girls were a riot because they continuously attempted to cheat. I had to repeat multiple times, “EYES ON YOUR OWN PAPERS.” “STOP LOOKING AT YOUR NEIGHBOR’S PAPERS.” And my personal favorite, “I AM NOT AFRAID TO TURN YOU IN TO SISTER MARIA.” She is definitely the regulator. Sr. Ann seems like a regulator too, but she’s a lot older than the other nuns. Anyway, both classes mostly failed. Cheating was useless. We told Sr. Maria, and she literally whacked the kids on the head. Really loudly. It kind of scared me, I’m not going to lie.



We also gave the kids “American candies” yesterday, aka Lifesavers. This is very ironic to me, as I despise Lifesavers. Apparently, all American candies are called chocolates in India, regardless of if they are made of chocolate or not. At first, I thought the kids just didn’t understand, but then the nuns called it chocolate too.



Okay, I’m sure I’ll have more to write about sooooon. As long as the flood subsides. =p







June 12, 2010:



Today was Sr. Maria’s birthday. It was basically like a national holiday in Hassan. The day started off strong, with cake, chocolates, and this potato dish served in a rice flour wrap, one of my favorite foods here. Lunch was good too, curry and rice, the typical meal. Then came tea. There was this soup dish served for tea. Tea is usually a time to serve sweet snacks, dessert time basically. Well, the soup is only served on special occasions. It was unlike anything I’ve ever had. It had noodles in it, and initially tasted really sugary. I can’t really do justice describing it, but I’m not sure I want it again. For dinner, we ate with all of the kids, and we were served this white curry thing with rice. I think it had milk in it, but I probably also won’t be eating that again.



This completely new, foreign, and kind of strange food trying stage actually started yesterday for Allison and I. Imagine 100 minnows. 100 minnows that have all had parts of their body removed, but their eyes remaining. Imagine them in a red sauce. They are bony. They kind of looked bloody. They had their skin on still. Allison and I tried that yesterday. It was very different. We were told to eat the bones….I hope I can’t get sick via eating fish bones. But I figure cats do it, so we can too, right??



Before dinner tonight, there was a show that the kids put on for Sr. Maria. There was traditional dancing and contemporary dancing. It was great until the end of the show. Well, the end was great too. However, no one told us that we were going to be part of the show. The grand finale. Yup, so Allison and I were coaxed up to the stage to dance for everyone. When we finished everyone kept saying, “Great! Great!” Which I think is codeword for, “Silly American!” It was fun though, regardless of our bad dancing.



The girls have become a lot more comfortable with us in the last few days, especially after they realized that we had a lot of electronics. They love to be filmed on my video camera and have pictures taken of them. They also love to take pictures of everything, including pictures that are on our computers. They are so completely fascinated, and it’s hilarious. The first time any of the kids see the camera, they kind of just stare blankly at the lens, trying to figure out what it’s doing. When they figure out that they’re being recorded, they spring into action, which means they try to elbow their friends and classmates out of the screen. It’s pretty hilarious.



Speaking of fighting, as you’ve read in Allison’s blog already, these kids are great at fighting. I mean, they put MMA fighters to shame. We’ve started to implement “time-out” because our voices will give out if we have to continue yelling. Time-out involves a brown sheet of paper. The kids have to sit on it with their heads to the wall until the end of class if they fight or act out. Today we had no kids make time-out, but yesterday, one boy earned the honors of being our first time-out. He sat there for approximately 15 minutes, and it actually worked, I think.



Overall, the kids are really fun. They are like our fashion advisors, always telling us what to wear, redoing our hair, and sticking bindis on our foreheads. Yes, we wear bindis often. No, not all of these kids are Hindus. Many are Catholic, so yeah…it’s all in the name of fashion.



Not all of our students are girls, though. We have a handful of boys, though they are vastly outnumbered. However, we have already been invited to the homes of two of the boys. They are little stinkers and guilt tripped us for not going to 6:30 AM mass (which is not in English). But they are actually really cool. It’s just really funny when a twelve year old is giving you a sad face because you didn’t make it to Mass. They’re smart. They know what they’re doing.



Which reminds me, I was sick in India for like a week. I eventually had to concede to going to an Indian doctor. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced. First of all, the scale was vastly wrong in the weight it told me. I might have lost like a few pounds here so far, but I have not lost 40 pounds since I arrived here. So this was the first thing that scared me. Okay, now, when you think doctors office, you think of like a big building, something like a Kaiser that is it’s own building. It’s generally not attached to anything, or if it is in a building, the office itself will have some type of privacy. Well, the Indian doctor was just another shop in Hassan. Other than the green cross on the sign, you could not tell this was a doctor’s office. The doctor’s actual office and the examining room were the same room. There wasn’t paper on the bed too. I just remembered that. The scale was a clearly broken bathroom scale.



Anyway, I was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, which makes me think of cats, because our cats used to get those a lot. He prescribed me some meds to take, five pills, to be exact. I asked specifically, “Will these affect my pulse? I have a heart problem, and I can’t take anything that will raise my pulse.” He replied, “No.” So I was like, “Okayyy….” Anyway, I told my parents about the drugs, and they immediately Google’d it. Turns out all of the pills he gave me would affect my pulse, so that was fun. Good thing my parents checked on it. I didn’t have the heart (good pun…kind of) to tell the nuns what happened with the medicines, so I went with the story that I took them all. (Luckily I recovered, so I didn’t need to address the issue again.) Another happy ending was that six pills cost ten rupees. If you’re not familiar with Indian currency, then I will let you know that ten rupees is less than one quarter. I told Marisa Truong this story, and she nicely pointed out that the meds cost less than a quarter dog.



Also, in an afterthought of both food and weight stories, I know I could not have lost that much weight because all I’ve been eating is rice. A lot of rice. I was under the impression that the Indian diet would allow me to lose weight, but false. Not that I care, because the food is really good! Minus those last few encounters….



Anyway, back to the slew of stories. So on Friday, we were teaching class. Business as usual. It was about 9:30 am, and we were instructing the high school girls on grammar. Grammar is a struggle for a lot of these girls, with the exception of two of them who are exceptionally fast learners. We were trying to teach everyone to capitalize, or use big letters, at the beginning of sentences, and to also punctuate all sentences with “full-stops”, exclamation points, and question marks. This is not the point of the story. During class, one of the girls passed out on her bench, fell off the bench, took it with her, and then gashed her head. AND then continued to not wake up at first. At first, I was really afraid she was dead from some unknown illness or something. I went over, and saw that she was slowly coming back into consciousness. What a relief! We stood her and her bench back up, and walked her over to her bunk across the hall. I ran to get Sr. Mary, and she came back to look at the girl. She said that it was probably because she came to the convent malnourished. This girl is REALLY skinny. Skinnier than anyone I know. It also doesn’t help that she wears these really big and heavy clothes that make her look even skinner. That might have even contributed to the episode. Anyway, so that was really sad to see happen. Her family, if she has any, wasn’t able to provide enough for her.



I’ll have to think of more stories sooooon.

9 June 2010

So I can’t decide which are worse, third grade boys or fourth grade boys. When I taught CCD to fourth graders my senior year of high school, I was convinced there could be nothing worse. Now I’m not so sure. The girls can be a handful themselves at times, but they’re nowhere near the troublemakers that the boys are. Today we had to teach a combined class of third and fourth graders, which we knew wasn’t going to go well before it even started. There was barely enough space in the classroom, and everyone was fighting and hitting each other. We had to make one boy and girl sit outside, and they definitely got a couple whacks on the head for it (not from us, of course). We tried to teach shapes today… well, four of them: circle, triangle, square, and rectangle. I’m pretty sure that maybe three kids got it… and that might be overestimating.

The sixth standard is much easier to deal with. I’m pretty sure the boys are in love with Christi and I. This is actually a good thing, since it’s easy to force them to do things when they’re intent on impressing us. Christi brought her video camera to class today, and we tried to get the kids to talk on camera. The girls were too shy to do anything but wave and giggle, but we got one of the boys, Prajwel, to introduce himself. He’s probably going to be the next Dev Patel, that is, if we have any say in the matter (yes, Melissa, we succeeded in finding him… sort of).

Today Christi and I also started a small evening tutoring session with some of the girls that are behind in their studies. There are four of them—Ambika and Shylu from 4th standard and Ashwini and Lakshmi from 6th standard. These girls still don’t know the alphabet, so we tried to make progress with that. In the end, we had to focus on only part of the alphabet, A through I. Progress is going to be slow.

In other news, Christi went to the doctor on Monday to seek treatment for her mysterious illness/swollen glands. It was this little hole-in-the-wall office, and like many places in India, you had to take your shoes off before you went inside. The good news is that Christi is feeling better, though this is mostly due to the passing of time (seeing as how she actually hasn’t taken any of her prescribed medicine). The experience of accompanying her on this doctor visit has also helped remind me of my goal of NOT getting sick while in India.

Lucky for us, the doctor’s visit also required a nice, long car ride. I’m sure you can guess that it was a very safe, smooth ride there and back. Before coming back, we stopped in a marketplace so Sister Mary could buy a few small things. “A few small things” also included the biggest bags of rice I’ve ever seen. Each one probably weighed as much as me. During this time, we were once again abandoned in the vehicle (this happened in the Bangalore marketplace, too). Don’t worry, the windows were rolled down… but I’m starting to really understand why exactly you should never leave children or pets in a car alone in severe heat. The effects are both physical and emotional.

I’m also going to run out of reading material before the summer is over. I brought three books here and I’m already on the third. (Hey Kevin, remember that time you loaned me that Kerouac book? The one I never gave back? Well, you should be proud, because I’m finally reading it.) I’ll move on to Christi’s afterwards, but that might only get me through June. What are the chances there’s an English language bookstore anywhere around these parts?

5 June

What is a monsoon, exactly? Is it bad that I don’t know this? I understand that a monsoon involves a lot of rain and wind, so I’m not clueless, but is there more to it than that? Christi and I might have survived our first monsoon yesterday... but it very well just could have been a normal thunderstorm. The great part about the rain here (other than water leaking in through the windows, which was pretty awesome) is that the temperature cools down. Sister Maria asked us if we wanted sweaters. Are you KIDDING? No. I would do anything to be cold right now.

Anyways, on to some highlights of our cultural experience so far. Indian people (well, at least Southern Indian people) do this thing where they nod their heads from side to side. Make no mistake—this is not real nodding. It’s more like… tilting the head to the left and then to the right and so on. Like a bobblehead. Everyone does it, either to acknowledge what you’re saying or simply for the sake of doing it. I wonder if it makes them dizzy. It makes me dizzy. I think I’m going to adopt this habit and see what people in America do when I bobble my head at them in normal conversation.

Another important part of Indian culture, as with any, is food. And here, it is custom to eat meals with your right hand. You mix and mush your food together and use your thumb to sort of flick it into your mouth. (This is an acquired skill). They give us forks, so we are often exempt from this eating policy, however, for the record, being left-handed makes the situation more difficult. In fact, being left-handed in India is pretty scandalous to begin with. When the girls realized I write with my left hand, they gasped in horror and exclaimed “WHAATTT?” Well, maybe the equivalent of that in Kannada. Apparently India is not over that whole left-handers being associated with Satan thing. Don’t worry, I’m doing my part to put a stop to these false beliefs.

And then there’s the morning assembly at school. All 80 students assemble in some sort of formation that involves lines, but other than the lines it makes no sense to me. Perhaps they’re trying to make the shape of India by making lines of different length? I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure it out. One person shouts a series of commands and the students follow suit with a few moves that make them look like Taekwondo athletes and military recruits, simultaneously. They then sing songs and recite prayers, all in the local language of course. At the end, they raise one hand, presumably to bless something (I think?), perhaps one another? This part, though, makes them slightly resemble Hitler’s army. It’s a little frightening. And then it’s over, and chaos ensues.

The classrooms in which we teach are small, dark rooms with holes in the roof to let sunlight in. Only two classrooms actually have desks, the rest only have benches. The lack of desks makes it even harder to maintain order, with students running in and out of the classroom at will. Each class has students of varying levels, as we’ve been learning. For example, there is one girl in “6th standard” who doesn’t know the alphabet yet, which means she’s behind most of the kids in 3rd standard. We gave a spelling test to 6th standard yesterday with words like “the” and “and” and “from.” Most students did terribly, and when Sister Maria saw the results, she went around the classroom pinching arms and whacking heads. Apparently physical punishment is still okay in this country? All the girls looked like they were going to cry. We’re giving a re-test on Monday… something tells me they’re going to take this one a bit more seriously.

And while we’re on the topic of physical abuse… today Christi and I found out more about the background of one of the very smart younger girls, Margaret. She’s only ten but her English is as good as some of the high school girls. Sister Annie informed us this morning that Margaret lives at the convent because her father is a drunk and beats her mother. Sister Annie said that Margaret has been psychologically affected by the situation, and often bursts into sobs at any given time because she’s worried about how her mother is faring at home. Christi and I thought it was odd that nothing was being done about the domestic abuse. Yes, Margaret was removed, but what about Margaret’s mother? Christi tried to ask if there were laws about domestic violence in India, but Sister Annie didn’t seem to understand. At any rate, it may not be that uncommon but it’s very sad. I’m surprised Margaret is still able to concentrate and do so well in school given her circumstances.

I guess that’s the most depressing part of doing service—you can only do so much. We really can’t do anything to help these girls in the long term. You can’t help but wonder where these girls will be in ten years. Will they go on to university? Will they get out of this village? Will they follow the same paths as their parents? But, that’s enough depressing stuff for now. Sorry! =p (by the way, whenever Christi writes =p, apparently she’s picturing a dog with it’s tongue hanging out of it’s mouth… not her sticking her tongue out. Just FYI).

So the girls here keep asking Christi and I to sing songs or to dance. We tell them that we can’t sing, but they keep insisting. Today we tricked them into singing for us instead, but that only distracted them from their goal for about 3 minutes. I refuse to sing though, and for anyone who has heard me sing, you understand why. Hey, Shea Bettwy, how do you feel about bringing your band to India and putting on an Acoustic Café performance for the girls?

our first two weeks

So we arrived in India in the wee hours of the morning on May 25th, after a full’s day worth of traveling. The flight from Paris to Bangalore was a little over nine hours, but thankfully, unlike our Boston-Paris flight, we had seats with personal TV’s. Their programs even included Love Actually… thank you, Air France. Anyways, after collecting our luggage, we met Sister Mercy and Sister Sheela in the arrivals area. They greeted us and took us to their driver’s car, and we began our hour long journey to the convent. It was dark, but we could make out some of the scenery on our way—colorful houses, dilapidated buildings, piles of trash, empty market places, and stray dogs. Since there were few drivers on the road at this hour, it wasn’t a true Indian driving experience.

We were given two small, simple rooms and told to “wake up whenever.” We only managed to sleep in till about 6:30. Breakfast was awkward, most of the nuns in Bangalore spoke English in such a heavy Indian accent that we couldn’t understand them AND of course, there was the funeral. One of the sisters, Sister Shyby, had passed away from cancer mere days before our arrival and everyone in the state of Karnataka came to the Bangalore convent for the funeral. It was a drawn out and very sad ceremony… a depressing first day. Christi and I felt really awkward. The funeral was the only thing we had to do that day, other than “rest” as we were ordered.

Day two brought more resting (which was beginning to get old) and a trip into the city to buy more weather appropriate (read: Indian) clothes. The drive there and the drive back were two of the most terrifying experiences of my life. There are no road rules in India. We’ve yet to see dividers or barriers or lines on the road. There’s no such thing as a turn signal here… if you want to turn, you honk. You also honk if you want to pass, if you want to speed up, slow down, change lanes, stop, go, etc, etc. You get the idea. We had a couple close calls, including almost getting run over by a motorbike in the marketplace. Nevertheless, we survived. And we bought clothes.

In the meantime, our final destination was changed. The nuns in Bangalore kept telling us how hot Mattampally would be… “The temperature in Andhra Pradesh is 50 degrees.” “Um, Celsius?” Yeah, do the math on that one. Christi and I were frightened. On the day we were supposed to leave, Sister Mercy told us that they had decided to save us. Instead, she was sending us to Hassan, a “special place” about 3 hours away.

On the 28th, we left at 4am to begin our journey to Hassan. We boarded a bus, which was a 5 hour ride, not 3. The bus resembled a gutted out school bus, with even more uncomfortable seats bolted in place. The ride was uphill the whole way, since Hassan seems to be up in the mountains. Consequently, there’s more of a breeze here than in Bangalore, which is nice. It’s also really beautiful, it’s just generally hard to appreciate since it’s so hot here (not that I’m complaining, apparently it could be worse).

There are four nuns that live in the convent here: Sister Mary, Sister Maria, Sister Ann, and Sister Annie. I wonder if they did that name thing on purpose. Sister Ann is the old wise one, and Sister Annie is a very young and newly professed Sister. She really can’t be that much older than us. Sister Mary and Sister Maria seem to be in their early 30’s. All of them speak much clearer English than the nuns in Bangalore. They take really good care of us.

The school itself enrolls something like 80 students, most of whom live here in the convent as boarders. There are few boys in the school, and they aren’t allowed to be boarders. The kids range in age from about 3 to 17, and they’re here for a variety of different reasons. Some are orphans, some are from broken families, some were rescued from child labor. Overall, their knowledge of English is very limited, even the high school girls.

Christi and I taught a couple classes the first weekend, but our real teaching began on Monday, May 31st. We teach five classes each morning, to the high school girls, 6th/7th, 5th, 4th, and 3rd in blocks of about 45 minutes. At least, this is how it’s supposed to work, but there’s really no such thing as organization at this school. Sometimes a 45 minute period ends up being close to two hours. How that happens, I really don’t know. All the kids are loud and seem to have ADD, but the little ones are the hardest to teach. Discipline is impossible to enforce since they don’t understand our English.

After lunch, from about 2pm onwards, we are free to rest… and plan classes and correct assignments, of course. Afternoon tea takes place at 4:30, which my personal favorite meal of the day. The sweets they give us are really good. In general the food here is better than the food was in Bangalore. They feed us potatoes, so I’m happy. The nuns tease us for not eating enough. Apparently we “eat like cats.” My cats eat a lot though, so I don’t get it. At any rate, I’m not going hungry, so no need to worry, Mom.

The sun sets really early here, or at least earlier than I would expect for summer, at about 630 or 7pm. It makes it easier to go to bed early though. We generally wake up at 530 or 6am to get ready for daily mass here, which begins at 630am. Mass is in the local language and the priest is kind of scary, so it’s an odd experience. Last Sunday he yelled at parishioners during mass and even carried out a conversation with a few men. Well, that’s what we gathered anyway, it’s all very confusing.

It’s not Friday, and the first week of school is about to come to a close. Not quite yet though, because there is school on Saturdays here. India doesn’t believe in weekends. Apparently nothing of significance really happens the first week of school here, but the syllabi will finally begin next week. We have 8 full weeks of school to go, and we’ve been planning little mini-units to try to increase their vocabulary. Key word here is “try.” These kids are sneaky little con-artists and are really good at avoiding learning things… or pretending that they know things. They’ve even tried to turn English classes into teach-Allison-and-Christi-to-speak-Kannada classes. Kannada is the local language here in the state of Karnataka. The little girls tried to teach us body parts. The only one I’m good at remembering is the word for eyes because it sounds like “Carnot” as in Carnot Cycle or whatever that was from thermodynamics. It’s hard enough to remember all their names. Scratch that, it’s nearly impossible because so many of them have names that sound alike.

The girls love to play games with us, but they’re more than content to just hold our hands. They love how if they pinch our skin, it turns pink… this hasn’t gotten old yet, although I’m hoping it wears off soon. They call us “Auntie,” and every time they see us we’re bombarded by “Good morning, Auntie!” and “Good afternoon, Auntie!”… well, at least they’ve got some words down. They’re sweet though, and I suppose it’s a good thing they’re so easily amused, since it’s not like Christi and I are professional teachers.

As for us, we’re surviving. I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again… at least until August. Our “showers” consist of buckets of water, which really isn’t that bad, provided mosquitoes don’t start breeding in our bathrooms. Christi and I get nightmares from our malaria meds, so she insisted upon sleeping in the same bed. When the nuns found out, they thought it was hilarious and moved us into a double room. We gave it a test run last night, and something tells me it’s going to work out. I’ll let you know.

More soon. <3

May 23, 2010-June 2, 2010

Hey all,

FYI: Because of the internet connection here, Allison and I blog on our laptops, and use a flashdrive to upload the posts via another computer. It's fun. I guess?

MMmmmmkay,

hope this isn't too offensive.


May 30, 2010:




Let’s start at the beginning. We arrived in Bangalore on May 25, 2010. Customs was silent. It felt like a dictatorship. Apparently, this is normal. We made our way to the Salesian convent in Bangalore. Allison and I had separate rooms, next to each other. Keep this in mind, as this is an important fact later in our story. Our first night was fairly eventful. Remember that when you travel to a third world country, there are generally diseases you want to avoid. One of them is malaria. We are both on anti-malarials. And we had heard that we might have dreams/nightmares from the medication. This is true, and not just a rumor. I heard my name being called in the night. This also plays into the idea that Allison and I have rooms next to each other. We’ll come back to this later.



We wake up on May 25, 2010. We find that we have slept in until 6:30 am. We get ready for the day, and are soon greeted by Sr. Mercy, who took us to breakfast. No one really talked to us at this meal.



Oh wait, there’s more. We have to go back to when we arrived in Bangalore. We were promptly informed that we had arrived on a, and I quote, “very special day”. Very special day = funeral. One of the sisters had passed away after losing her battle to cancer. She was only 41. It was a very sad funeral, but also a huge culture shock slash one of the most awkward experiences we have ever been through. The customs were different during the funeral. Wailing was very present. The funeral was a very long mass in a very hot Church. We quickly learned that the word organization is not present in the India vocabulary. Communication is also not found there as well. For Communion, people stampede up to receive the Host. Every man and women for himself or herself. The Sign of Peace involves simple bowing to the priest, and then once to a randomly selected person next to you (For Allison and I, that person is always the same. We bow to each other.)



We listened to the many eulogies given by the many people who cared for Sr. Shyby. The end of the ceremony involved the burial. Which we helped with. We were then presented with bookmarks of Sr. Shyby, which I currently have in my Twilight book, which I unfortunately left in Bangalore. Needless to say, although this was a very unique experience, we were thrown into culture shock.



For the next few days, we ate our meals and were continuously prompted to “take rest”. Which meant “Go back to your rooms.” I was able to finish New Moon, from Twilight, within two days.



Now you’ll remember that I brought up our rooms a couple of times. Well, there are rolling blackouts in Southern India. Many many blackouts. This made the convent a little spooky. This along with the nightmares from the malaria medicine made our separate rooms unbearable. By the third night, we were sharing a room. And a bed. For reference, these beds make our Notre Dame beds look like full-sized beds. No black eyes have occurred yet from kicking. We are also careful not to let anyone catch us, though we suspect that it is bound to happen.



On May 27th, we were scheduled to leave for Mettampally, where we would teach English. We did not learn of this until May 26th at dinner. They told us to pack one suitcase. They also told us that Mettampally was the hottest place on Earth, registering in at fifty degrees Celsius. If you convert that to Fahrenheit, that is more than one hundred fifteen degrees. Every time Mettampally would come up, at least five nuns would warn us of the heat, and give us tips on how to avoid burning alive. By this time, Allison and I were in tears every time the name Mettampally was mentioned.



We were scheduled to leave at 6 pm for the 9 hour bus ride to Mettampally, which we had originally been told was five hours long. When we say bus, don’t think Coach USA. Think of something that they would use to transport prisoners in the post-Soviet Union satellite countries. That might be nicer than the buses here. No AC. No bathroom. No carpet. Nothing. At approximately 12 pm, we learned that we were no longer going to Mettampally because the nuns deemed the journey itself to dangerous, and the stay there even more dangerous.



Unfortunately Allison and I had already packed one box (aka suitcase) to go to Mettampally. We must have looked disappointed that we were no longer making a bus trip, so the nuns decided to send us to Hassan. At 7:30 pm, May 27th, we were told to pack a backpack to stay in Hassan for anywhere between 2 days and one week. This is important later.



We woke up at 4 am May 28th to make the long journey to Hassan (approximately 7 hours, but we were told 3 ½ ). This journey involved a car ride, or as I like to call it, “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride”, a bus, and a rickshaw. Yes, a rickshaw. There are no road rules in India. Every man for himself. If you are a good drive, you will die. There are no lines on the road. Generally no stop signs. Honking replaces the use of a turn signal. Every time we leave the convent, we suffer from PTSD. When trying to put on our seatbelts, people turn around and say, “No, it’s okay. You don’t need to wear the belt. We don’t even wear one in the front.” I beg to differ. There isn’t even a buckle for the belt, so oh well.



Before I finish our journey story, I want to point out that by this time, Allison and I had already bought our Indian clothes. Sr. Sheila took us out to the market to buy some clothes. Allison was almost run over by a motorbike. Luckily, he stopped 1 inch before hitting her. When crossing the street, you might forget that you are a person and not a cat darting across the street.



Back to our journey. After the car ride, we made it to the bus. It smelled of trash. We drove for about 3 hours, nearly hitting other busses and a few trucks carrying gasoline that read “highly inflammable”. We stopped at two rest stops. It was hot and miserable. When we arrived in Hassan, we waited to be picked up by some of the Sisters. They didn’t come, and so we had to catch a rickshaw. I was in tears, mentally. We caught up with the sisters, and they completed our journey. They showed us our rooms, and luckily, they were next to each other again.



We were quick to discover that there was no electricity during the day in Hassan. The power is on from 6 pm to about 7 or 8 pm, and then turns on again throughout the night. Generally, it shuts off for the day at 11 am, on a good day. We have to selectively charge our electronics during these hours.



The beds here are even smaller than the beds in Bangalore. However, the nuns speak to us much more. The food is also better. They served us potatoes, and there is much less curry and more variety. We quickly learned that it was not in the plan for us to stay between 2 to 7 days. Instead, we found out that we would be teaching here from anywhere between one week to the end of summer. This was convenient since we packed for one week.



We began to teach yesterday. The girls live here. There are very few boys in the class. Mostly they are children who have no parents, or just one parent. They are all from impoverished families, and not many pay to live here. They appear very malnourished when they arrive, but the nuns tell us they look much healthier as the year goes on. Yesterday, we taught English to students between the ages of three and thirteen. There aren’t really any classroom rules. They simply wander in and out, with a few listening to what is actually going on. There isn’t much structure. They do hang on us though. They are much more interested in Allison, though, since I apparently look like I’m either Northern Indian or Thai, or something that is Asian.



We tried to ask for their actual ages, and apparently, this is not a concept they can understand. Even the older girls whose English is fairly good, cannot understand that question.



The girls speak a local language here. We are supposed to be teaching them English, but, instead, we are being forced to learn their language. They also tried to overpower us with combs yesterday. We were very adamant about not allowing this, because our lice shampoo is in Bangalore.



We attended Mass today for two hours. It was a regular Sunday Mass. During the Mass, the priest yelled at some of the boys playing outside. Yelled is not an exaggeration. He yelled. There was also a conversation during mass. We have no idea what actually happened, though, since nothing is in English. Although they do sing Alleluia. That’s about it.



June 2, 2010



Allison and I were looking forward to the first day of June, until we both became mysteriously ill. We have also made a miraculous recovery in the span of 24 hours. We were unable to teach yesterday, but today was back to the grind. Kind of.



Because we conveniently got sick after Day 1 of teaching, our hours were cut back to morning teaching. Fine by us. We are not built to teach little kids. We taught until about 12:30 PM. We tried to teach the children “I spy with my little eye”, but the oldest children seem to be unable to grasp the concept of the game, which is that you choose ONE item that is the color you picked. The item doesn’t change and the color doesn’t change mid-game. We’re working on it. We also assigned the dreaded spelling test, just like our teachers sentenced us to as children.



But moving on to more interesting things. Our Malarone is REALLY working. Last night, at 1230, less than 2 hours since we had fallen asleep, Allison began to convulse in her sleep. It started with some words, and eventually built up to a scream. I couldn’t sleep for the next 2 hours out of fright and shock. However, as soon as I did manage to fall asleep, I myself had nightmares. I’m just thankful no one got a black eye out of this.



Also, we got all of our suitcases today, minus my Eclipse book of the Twilight series, our pillows, and Allison’s sweatshirt. And maybe other things, we don’t know. We decided that we would utilize the rest of the day to put all of our things in one suitcase, in preparation for our departure. From India. This might be a little early, but since we are not likely to wear our American clothes, we don’t really care.



Another interesting story involves us waking up at 6 am, like good little Catholics, for morning mass. Apparently, there is no morning mass on Wednesday. Or any mass. So fail on that mission.



Allison is slap happy right now. I was yesterday. Our countdown is at approximately 59 days. Without August. Allison and I have come to the conclusion that we will not include August in our countdown because we have other plans for those 8 days. As for our future, it’s hard to contact people that are important when you are in India. The internet is not very reliable here. Allison knows this because as she composed a few emails, the internet stopped working. Tears came from her eyes.



We’re listening to Gaga and Akon right now, pretending we’re at Finny’s. I can’t decide which cleaner: our fake Finny’s, or real Finny’s. It’s almost a tie. Apparently Indian kids also like Akon.



Anyway, so here’s the real info: We’re going to stay in Hassan for the majority of the summer. After speaking with our volunteer coordinator, we were informed that Hassan is one of the poorest villages in India. It’s what he says is a “true volunteering experience”. The nuns are very friendly, and the scary priest from our first blog turns out to actually be insightful and sometimes even funny. They are very concerned about our well-being, and always tell us “Take rest.” Or “Maybe this is too much work. You take rest.” The girls have become fond of making us more and more Indian. It started off with henna tattoos, which are traditionally used at weddings. I have one on my left hand, and Allison has one on her right hand. (Pictures to come.) On Monday, the girls surrounded us, and forced us to wear bindis. That was cool, but then we lost them really quickly because of the heat.



We are waiting to go out into the village. Sr. Mary said that we would be going from house to house teaching English. I’m really excited about this, especially because adults have longer attention spans! =p



Most importantly, Allison and I are enjoying India more and more. It was a little scary at first, and travelling is really frightening. However, now that we are stationary, it’s better.