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June 26, 2008

school-house rock

I visited a school-house today. (Well, I do this practically every time I visit a village, which, by now, has been quite a few times, at least fifteen plus. The schoolhouse seems to be the center of the town, its proud establishment (that is, apart from the Hindu temple), often the traditional one-room type, sometimes two, rarely more than three). This school-house has two rooms. In one room, a woman teaches; in the other, a man. (They happen to be a happily married couple in their 40's or so. The woman [pardon me, I forget their names] has the kindest face you could ever see--and so flawless that she must have had some kind of plastic surgery, or take some pretty special (likely sweet) herbs. She is the epitome of propriety, with great posture and grace. And I must say, quite a beautiful woman. Her husand seems a bit older, with two-inch hairs sprouted from the sides of his ears, a wrinkled (nevertheless soft, I gander) face, ever illuminated eyes, and a slight slouch that speaks not of a lack in self-esteem, but rather of his earnest intention to reach out to his students--no, his children--with a loving heart. He is very serious about his work, about taking a "practical," and not, absolutely not, "theoretical" approach to his teaching. He often takes them for hikes. He and his wife (at least one of whom--I crushingly wager the latter--have made cards, diagrams, origami-like teaching materials, to help their children (ages 6-10--they are grouped together, which, seemingly of necessity, offers some interesting possibilities) learn the best way possible: most importantly, not to be drilled, but rather to come to learn the material in their own way--something that fosters a creative mind, and can only prove to be a superior long-term memory technique to, well, every other system, especially the dry British one. And the American one. Needless to say, I am impressed. I didn't talk wit his wife very much, but I assume that she has interesting viewpoints as well [why, of course this kind, nurturing man would do no such thing as suppress the creative genius of his beautiful wife--no no, I couldn't imagine it; they must enjoy a blissfully egalitarian co-existence. And don't, my friend, please don't tell me otherwise. It would shatter to pieces the romantic image I have deliacately painted in my mind's eye of this divine couple.] I especailly enjoyed listening to him sing English songs with his Marathi accent, and then hearing his obedient students follow suit--pretty hand motions and all.)

In the end, he asked me to talk to the students, to give them advice. Here is a summary of what I told them:

1. Have dreams--write them down, chase after them, never give up

2. There will be strife--persevere.

3. Don't let anyone tell you you can't do something. If you put your mind to it, you can do it. Insist on yourself.

4. Love your family--they have done so much for you, so don't forget to return the love.

5. You are just as good as anyone else. You all have a shining light in your eyes, and you can use it to affect others positively. Don't get caught up in the negative talk of others--rise above it. Don't let anyone ever put you down--if you don't believe it, it isn't true. And believe me, it's not. You are very important people--each and every one of you--and remember to treat your peers with the same respect you would expect to receive. Just remember that, and you will be just fine.

Well...Sorry to break it to you, but less than half of that actually got out in words--mostly about the dreams and the family. It's okay, though, I think he filled in the rest, and much more wisely, in his lengthy translation. And if not...well, I don't think the parts I missed will handicap (especially not permanently) my little friends at that beautiful school, with that beautiful couple...oh, and did I mention it was on top of a misty hilltop? It was pretty awesome.

P.S. I am about to miss my curfue (it's been so long that I have likely forgotten how to spell it, and almost appreciate it!--the curfue part itself, that is, not the likely mis-spelling of the bastardly thing). Ohhh it's OK, though, I have set the old boss staight. (I've got him blackmailed already.) I should get going, though, just to have time to check the e-mail...and I shouldn't miss it by that much, because I have a birth--yes, I am a birth virgin--to witness. Should be coming pretty soon. (She is a first-timer herself, so it should not be that soon, according to Dr. Sandeep. Oh, and we talked a lot today. Me, him, and Ashok found a spear, and had a throwing contest. It was really too close to call. Upon my return, I will continue the meticulous categorization of my photos. I enjoy it. Once I am in the zone...I am in the zone. You know how it works, us males and our decidedly one-tracked minds.

Posted by dmbenn at 09:59 AM | Comments (0)

June 22, 2008

heart of India

Yesterday was an intensive village-visiting day. Vikas (the boss), Jyoti (the social worker), Ashok (the nominal gardener--he does everything imaginable, from driving to chores to digging holes during a Sunday religious fast), and I drove to about eight villages. If I had my notepad with me now I would name them off, but for now I will just give you an idea of what they were like.

Whereas the first two days, we visited villages that were less poor and a bit more industrialized (as they are close to the smoggy center of Rajgurunagar), yesterday we went to some faraway villages in the mountains, some of the poorest in all of Rajgurunagar.

The view from the mountains is beautiful. An open expanse of rich green crops and fertile soil lies before rolling hills and a clear blue sky. The children are always very shy. At one place, four girls and a boy were playing in a mound of dirt, next to a row of cows and a goat. When I first arrived, they were a bit aloof. So I sat down in the dirt with them, cleared out a drawing board in the sand, and drew a big happy face. One of the girls followed suit by drawing a Hindu god. At first they seemed suspicious of my camera (not that I want to go into people's villages taking pictures of everything, but it is part of my job, so I have to make it work), but after this, and a little surfing motion on the mound, they were in the mood for some fun. They started dancing in front of my camera while their grandmothers looked on in the background and smiled nostalgically. They were really cute girls, too, and I got some amazing, heartwarming pictures of them playing together, holding each other's arms, whispering in each other's ears.

And these photos are more than just to look at and to show my family back home. On the flight over, I was talking with this woman who used to work for a bank. She had to sit through presentations of solicitors from NGO's. Since this is the kind of thing I will be doing, she gave me some advice: first, keep it real; they know you are there to take their money (and that you likely detest them, or at least mock them behind their backs). Second, take a photo album. Don't tell them about it though. Just leave it there next to you. This is especially effective for one-one-one meetings. When the conversation gets dry, they will ask. The beautiful humanity and youth (with some truth in the background) of these kinds of photos is quite a good marketing tool. All the better then, if it helps these kids in the end.

In some of the villages, people live in very small huts made from whatever they can find--wood, straw, aluminum scraps. This one little girl was standing in front of one of these huts, in dirty, torn clothes, bare feet; she looked at me in a kind of frightened, vulnerable way, not bothering to shoo away the flies that covered her face, nor to smile. Jyoti said that the people who live there are "tribal people." They do not have their own source of agriculture, so they depend on the yield of surrounding villages. They also struggle for a constant flow of decently clean water from their well. This was the poorest village we visited.

In another village, it suddenly began to rain heavily. We were right in front of a house, and so the people who lived there invited us inside. (For me, being able to go into someone's house, especially in a culture far different from my own, is a very special experience. Maybe i am kind of an anthropologist in that way, or just curious (i.e., nosy. Who isn't? Note to self: unnecessary self-deprecation followed by feeble self-justification). There was a main room, about ten by ten feet, made of some kind of plaster. Vikas played with their baby on the floor, along with a daughter and the always present grandmother in the background. The mother of the household offered me tea (chai, or cha-ha in Marathi--oftentimes they use words from either language interchangeably), which I graciously sipped. (Usually the tea is very hot, so you can pour it into the saucer, shift it around a bit, and enjoy.) Yet there was one thing here that I, perhaps presumptuously, did not expect: a TV was playing in the corner, much as I have seen in many American households--including lewd commercials with plenty of skin--smooth skin, because, as the ad went, "that's what's in."

It made me think. The issue of "globalization" is very complex, especially in regard to the value of becoming more technologically advanced, and the affect that this has on a culture. And the culture of India is unique, insofar as it has been preserved for so long. Yet even if they live somewhat secluded in the mountains, far away from anything we might consider to be "modern" there we have it: technology, consumption, right in their homes. It would be one thing to have a television, and then to play some DVD's on it, but a company from Delhi is in the process of installing a cable line that will travel over one kilometer, hitting several villages along the way. This village has already received the "benefits." It is as if someone is putting an infinite supply of tasty food and dreams in front of their eyes, in their own home, yet the feast is locked up in a small glass box, and if they try to break it, the mirage will fade and never return. (Excessive, I know, but I think there is something to be said about it.) The taunting temptation of TV is one thing, but the fact that they are given one of the "downfalls," it might be argued, of Western culture, without much when it comes to the real "benefits," like a "higher standard of living"--at least when it comes to better medical care and cleaner water and the like. Under the present circumstances, though, difficult to change as they are, might this simply be considered a fair consolation, even a small--albeit decadent, delusive--treat? It just made me think.

Another note: "poverty" as they say it is only relative, perhaps even (yet not surprisingly) misleading. Some of these people are clearly struggling to a significant degree; for others, it is not so obvious. From what I see, though, some of them seem to be quite happy with their lifestyles, and by no means are they on the verge of an imminent crisis. I think what I am trying to say, then, is that they might be unnecessarily--I am not a conspiracy theorist, but maybe intentionally--stigmatized. This can make it easier for the rich--for those with power, the ones who have the concrete potential to help--to distance themselves from them, to write them off, to turn the other cheek. The word itself typically denotes a lack of money; and in this world, which values money above all else as an indicator of success (though I am an optimist, and think that the tide is changing here), people cannot see that people can lead quite decent lives without much at all. Maybe an alteration of our outlook on "poverty" is on the list--the list of things (theories, understandings, perceptions, ideologies) unquestioned, readily accepted and taken for granted by the masses, that need to be (re-)analyzed and reconsidered.

I had a conversation with Dr. Sandeep today. He is a gynecologist at he hospital, usually delivers a baby or two a day. Today I ate lunch with him as a lady in the other room was making strange sounds; I asked Sandeep, "Is she singing," perhaps a bit naively (but the sounds were indeed unusual), and he replied, "No. She is crying of the pain." He recently completed his medical education in Pune, and is working at this hospital (where I am living) for a year. His goal is to help poor people. A rather large and candidly expressionless man in his late 20's, always kind, gentle, friendly, he plans to open his own hospital in his nearby village. We talked about marriage. He said that, after he has established his practice, he will begin to date. And then he will marry that girl, whoever she may be. He is not that traditional. I thought that if you are "veg" then you are veg, but, as he munched on chicken, he said that, once a week, it is fine to eat meat. (Interpretations of the Hindu scriptures, which widely vary, also affect this viewpoint.) He will only allow an arranged marriage if he does not find a girl immediately after he starts his practice. We talked about the poverty in India. He said that the middle class in India makes about 5-10,000 a year--a few thousand under the poverty line in the U.S. Of course, he mentioned, things are much cheaper in India, and thus the question is (relatively) relative. He does not want his children to have to deal with the middle-class life, its day-to-day financial concerns, the inability to travel. He wants to be able to see what it's like in other countries, to gain insights for his own practice. At the hospital, it costs about 40 rupees to get service. With the money he gains, he wants to subsidize his patients so that they only have to pay 20 rupees. A true mensch. We need more people like him (especially in India, as I have heard many Indians say). After telling me this, he calmly stepped behind the curtains to tend to the woman in labor.

Posted by dmbenn at 11:07 AM | Comments (1)

June 19, 2008

and now for a little more detail: rural India

A few days ago, I moved from the city into the countryside. It was an amazing feeling. I enjoyed the excitement of big-city Bombay, don't get me wrong, but once I got out and took a glance at the lush vegetation, the open passes, and the green mountains that only got higher and higher, I began to feel a sense of refreshment, of divine freedom, and, as I began to take note of the claustaphobia that typically passes unnoticed by us city-bound ants, I suddenly felt a release from my far-too-long constricted veins--all while I sat in the back seat of the bus with five others (which was actually a lot of fun; we had some nice talks), pushed against the window, where I saw my glory fly before me with more force that I might have imagined.

After four or five hours, the bus made its way into Pune district, elevation about 1800 feet. Rajgurunagar is a taluka, like a town, located about 25 miles (40 km) north of the city of Pune. The town is named after the freedom fighter who once resided here, Raj Guru. There is a center, and 33 villages surrounding it. I am in the center, but will have the chance to be acquainted with the villages (and villagers) as well. (I visisted my first today, and will be heading out to different villages at 9:00 for the next few mornings, so I can really get a good idea of the program, so that I can better create my powerpoint presentations and other forms of publicity, and also to give the org. feedback based on my perspective.) I suppose (and hope) that my experiences in the villages will be a bit less fleeting than my views from the bus, a bit less movie-like, a bit less like how they throw previews at you nowadays: 1,000 flashes of pictures a minute (as opposed to a thousand words a picture).

Let me backtrack a bit to catch you up. Ashok, a stern, dark, robust Indian man with graying hair in his 30's, spotted me immediately at the station. He tilted his head to the side as if to say "let's go." I received this gesture a bit hesitantly, so he approached me further and showed me his card, which made it clear that he was a gardener for the Bombay Mothers and Children Welfare Society. He told me to wait as he fetched a rickshaw, helped me load my stuff, and led us on his motorcycle to my final destination, the hospital.

That's when I first met Rima. The first moment I saw her brown knee-high dress (only little girls would have this, no matter where you go in India, from what I can tell) with blue and green flowers, she already shined her characteristic big smile. She usually walks around casually barefooted, sometimes with her grandmother, usually just by herself. I'm not really sure what she does, but someone mentioned her being the "caretaker" of the director Vikash's baby, and it also seems that she goes to school two or three days a week at some faraway place, and is gone the entire day. Most of my confusion is due to the language barrier, which makes things all the more interesting, you know what I mean?

The people who work here have been taking great care of me so far. Indian hospitality, as far as i am concerned, is the rule for now. (And it's not just because I am at a hospital...but that couldn't hurt either.) The food is amazing. It varies from time to time, but generally, there is Chipati (round thin soft fried bread), some tasty (usually quite spicy) vegetable dishes, often inculding potates, cauliflower, or tomatoes, and some tap water. Oh, I (usually) don't drink that though. I prefer mineral water, just to be safe :) There is also Chinese influnece in some of the dishes; one dish was cabbage with chili sauce, which was very good. They really stuff my plate. Each dish comes in a little tin can, and they are all staked up in a little silver tower. Even though it only costs 20 rupees (50 US cents) a meal, I feel weird because I get much more than the gardener. When I sat across from him at lunch today, just after he took me to a village, all he had was daal (beans) and chipati. I gave him some of my spicy dish. I couldn't help but feel as I did at the hunger banquet when I was volunteering at a Texas farm, World Hunger Relief, Inc., earlier this summer: we were divided arbitrarily into classes, where most were poor, a few were in the middle, and two of us (myself included) were at the top (that's over 6,000 USD a year, and only a few percent); we ate a fancy meal and were waited on like kings, while the rest sat on the floor. It was comparable. I thought I would be able to live as Indians live by working with them, but sometimes you cannot escape such realities...

The place I am staying is not only a hospital. As part of the educational aspect of the program, there is a room with twenty-five training computers. The only problem is that there are frequent power outages, ususally twice a day, two hours each. There is fortunately a back-up generator, but it doesn't always rev up so fast. I often spend time talking with the students, who are usually around junior high to high school age, and very friendly. I draw pictures with them, help them use word art and things like that, play pinball, or just let them practice their english and tell them that they speak well. When I walked over to a group of girls, one of them, with very dark skin, deeply set eyes, and an angular beauty, offered me a peanut. After I ate it, she offered me an entire handful with a smile. Covering her hands and arms were intricately detailed henna tatoos. I accepted her gift graciously--probably the best I have ever received.

I have written down more, much more, describing all of the generous, kind people I have encountered and talked with, and all of the beautiful sights. My visit to the village today was amazing; I enjoyed watching a class of children from 6-10 learn their times tables, sing, and be lectured on personal hygiene. They were really sweet kids. I saw a man hoeing his farm in a "unique" way, to the western eye at least: he stood on a large device dragged by two bulls, or a manual tractor. I will get into the village scence more tomorrow, when I will see a few more. After a few days here, I am feeling great, and really enjoying my experience. I can't wait to get into detail on all of the wonderful experiences to come, which I suppose will be unlike anything before, and inspiring, to say the least. Like the endless variety of food, the country boasts an expansive array of sights, feelings, and experiences. The respectful nature and true generosity of everyone i have encounted is an astounding phenomenon, at least for me, having grown up in the generally (though certainly not exclusively) cold environment of the U.S.--luke-warm at best. Perhaps that is why they call it "Incredible India." And that's only part of the story.

Posted by dmbenn at 11:04 AM | Comments (0)

June 17, 2008

so i arrive!

Last night was one of those nights where dreams are so vivid, that even if you only sleep, let's say, six hours total, it feels as though you couldn't have gotten a better nights rest. Okay, well I don't really remember them...but I do remember the first one. It was the kind where you can somewhat control the dream: like where you have not fallen deep enough into sleep to lose awareness of self in the "real world," but where you are deep enough to not suddenly open your eyes as a result of this realization. So I told myself to do the thing that all of us have wanted to do since we were little kids and tried to build our own little airplane: to fly. And it was good. My dreams were vivid and enlightening the whole night through, and now I feel incredibly well rested. Perhaps they were partially the result of my being at a new place, a place I have never seen before, one that opens up my imagination to other possibilities which the world may hold for us, a place with such incredible beauty and hospitality and reality, and what's more, a place that makes me feel so completely natural and peaceful that, despite the hard bed, the occasional mosquito buzzing overhead, and the symphony of barking dogs, oinking wild pigs, chirping birds, and crickets (it's interesting that there always seems to be one lead cricket, like the conductor, or like a lead violinist, who plays the slowest and loudest, while the rest are far quieter and faster, and maybe, I once read, all conducting the synchrony of nature, telling the grass how to grow, keeping nature's cycles in rhythm), I felt more at peace than ever, and thus drifted off into a deep sleep with incredible ease.

The people that work here are so warm, the first of whom was a sweet little girl named Rima, always with a smile on her face. She speaks pretty good English. I said to her, then, that she can teach me Marathi, and I can teach her English.

As for the internship, I will be exploring the nearby villages soon to learn more, and to see how this wonderful program which I have been learning so much about looks in reality.

Posted by dmbenn at 12:10 AM | Comments (0)

June 15, 2008

mr. rickshaw man

shacks by the sea, floods rising a foot up the side.
smells like rotten fish.
there's a man sitting in front of me.
olive green long-sleeved Castro shirt.
wrinkled, dirty, sewn up in back and underneath armpit.
legs hanging listlessly to the sides.
skinny.

cows in street.
beautiful women in rose-colored saris.
two men on bench, fondling each other's hair.
pollution.
two young boys walking down street smoking.
lady looking at me from other rickshaw
like i am some kind of journalist.
dirty man digging up streets for flooding.
groups of men in khakis, collared shirts, brown sandals.
dirty dogs.
Mumbai.
Bombay.
girls. boys. lovers.
dust. barbed wire. horns.
heat. moisture. prayer.
city. stench.
waiting. sleeping. slouching.
beach. sand. trash. burning. broken motor.
lovers under an umbrella.
barbwired bushtrash.
vodafone. old men. veg.
this way out.

blockage. sundials. old port city.
complex. history.
keep out.
MH.01.V.805
MH-01XA8868
MH02TA.895
MH04DB8497

standard meter.
keep distance.
stop.

Posted by dmbenn at 11:40 AM | Comments (0)

June 14, 2008

mumbai lights: indulging on the fringe of poverty

I'll just start off by saying the first thought that's in my head right now: India is awesome. Of course, it's not that simple, but now it's my third night here, and I have had a great experience since my arrival. I was here last summer, and choosing to return is a decision that I definitely do not regret.

It all began two days ago, when my host, Varun, picked me up at the Mumbai airport. I am fortunate that he didn't leave without me, because my plane was an hour late, yet it never showed up on the arrivals screen, and he was looking for a black guy. I guess I was African American enough, because, as he was standing next to me and looking for me, he randomly turned to me and asked, "are you david?" And it went from there.

We took a rick-shaw (like a little buggy) to his place in Bandra West, which is pretty much located in the center of Mumbai (originally Bombay, but changed recently to get rid of the colonial English sound, and to make it more Indian, more Hindi). I stayed at Varun's place for a night. Another recent arrival was there too, an eccentric Hungarian girl named Zita, who has really short hair and is always inconspicuously rolling cigarettes. Varun was exceptionally hospitable. That is something I have found to hold true of all Indians I have met. He made sure that we always had what we needed, and kept us within his sight as if he were our own father. He is a really fun guy, though, so his omnipresence was actually quite fine. He took us to the shore, out shopping, to a bar, had company over at his house, etc. He, like many young well-off Indians, is an aspiring entrepreneur. Apparently his dad is the CEO of Kingfisher beer and some other company, his mom is the CEO of another big one, and they are both in Beijing right now networking. The apartment we stayed at, which was very nice, was a second place that his parents got "for partying." Of course, he has a maid who is always coming in, taking care of party leftovers and dirty laundry and whatnot. He noted that [rich] Indians are very spoiled in this way; they grow accustomed to having everything taken care of them, and cannot live any other way. Even Americans and others come to India for this kind of service, he says.

After going to a nightclub and rocking out to the popular Indian band, Pentagram, I slept last night at the apartment of Sarthak, my new host. I'll be staying with him until Monday, two more nights. Unlike Varun, this is his main residence, and might I add a very nice one. His dad is in business, and Sarthak has already started up a business of his own. He says that all of the richest people in the world started businesses when they are young. Through his business, he hopes to help others achieve their dream: financial freedom. It is some kind of a consulting business, and he is working on building a network right now.

He has three people that pretty much work for his family all day. His mom is off in England visiting his brother, who is at a photography school in London. The food here is really good. There are some interesting beliefs they follow regarding food that I have never heard of. First, it is very important that, if you are to shower, to do it before eating. Second is to not drink cold water during the meal, for it can lead to poor digestion, fat buildup, and so forth. (Maybe this is also a concept of yoga, someone mentioned.)

As for the servants, I have to say that it feels weird having them do everything for me--like making my food, serving it to me, cleaning up after me. They refuse to let me do anything. And saying "thank you" is apparently not really the normal thing to do, but I do it anyway. The servants come from villages where they were very poor, so by living here, they are viewed as being "better off." Of course, having a wife under these kinds of circumstances is very difficult--they have been working here for 10+ years and still are single. One of the servants seems to be fine, though; he lives in a little room on a different floor (when he is not sleeping in the kitchen) and makes good use of his lube and condom--on whom, I do not know--which he carries constantly in his pocket. I told him to sit on the couch with me (and not with his knees on the floor behind the couch) but he didn't seem so willing to oblige. Seeing servants live like this is perhaps something inevitable, and maybe not the worst for them, but it makes me question the system at large. Many people in the US use them too. Does that make it right? Or is it just a lesser of two evils? (the second being rural poverty, or some "lesser" job) When there is poverty like this, some might justify it; I would prefer to be a little less lazy (and take care of my own shit) and to try and do something about the poverty. But then they might just call me idealistic and illogical. Fine by me.

Anyway. I've had a great time thus far, indulging on the fringe of poverty. I have learned more than I could ever imagine in the short run of a few days, and am all the more excited about my internship. (I also met with Dr. Sathe, who told me all about the program and his ideology on rural development. I will be learning more about that when I arrive at Rajgurunagar on Monday, and will get more into that then.) I also went to an AIESEC meeting today, and met all of the people that I've been partying with in a more formal setting. The organization (which sets up the internship I am in, among many others) is a well greased and fun organization, one in which I think I will get more involved back in Michigan (they don't yet have a CA chapter). There are various sectors of AIESEC, as I think I have mentioned in another blog: education, development, IT, and business. So it draws people of all disciplines, people who are interested in working inter-culturally, and perhaps on working for a better world. Kanika has been especially heplpful and professional in getting me situated in Mumbai.

Now that I have had a sweet pre-internship experience in Mumbai, and have gotten to really see how the rich live here (and thoroughly enjoyed it, I admit), it is time to step immediately and decisively into perhaps a more "bitter" fray--rural India. (Or perhaps just a bit less of the sweet, for the bitter cannot truly ever be avoided in the city, even if you spend all of your time in the suburbs, look the other way, or come up with a number of creative defense mechanisms to pretend that the poverty in the city is not as bad as people say, or that the guy driving the rick-shaw, sitting silently in front of you with hairy ears, a dirty, plain outfit, and with the income of a few bucks a day, does not live in as bad conditions as you might think, or that he can afford to have his foot repaired if he breaks it...) Yet we'll see just how bitter the rural reality is. I prepare to enter the fray with an open mind, and with any previous stereotypes in my head wiped out. That is, after Sarthak reads this blog. Hopefully you didn't find the part about your servants offensive :)

Posted by dmbenn at 03:18 PM | Comments (0)

June 10, 2008

pre-flight status:

Now the trip begins! I've pretty much just pulled an all-nighter trying to get together all of my stuff, and now I am just about ready...well not really. I have another 11 hours and some sleep anyhow. But I figured I'd just take a moment to put down some of my thoughts just before leaving, some expectations, fears, etc.

Needless to say, I am very excited. Having already been to India, I am not so nervous about what to expect in the country itself. I am more concerned about the people I will be working with--the people I will be around most, and the ones with whom I would likely want to make the best first impression. I'm not that worried though. I have already been in touch with a couple of them--one of them coordinates the internships and helps out with odds and ends, and the other is the secretary of the organization, the Bombay Mothers and Children Welfare Society--and they were really down-to-earth people. So I'm not really worried--naturally anxious, but not so worried. (Freud might disagree with me, but what does he know?!)

As for my expectations, well, while I try to say "I am going to keep an open mind and not expect anything, just go with the flow and make the best of things," I also cannot say much more, since I really do not know what to expect of Rajgurunagar (the village in which I will be living) or Pune (the city 25 miles away). I tried to find pictures of the village on google, but nothing really showed up, and the article on wikipedia is very short and without pictures. As for Pune, I know it is a big city, about five million people. I also know that both places are at much higher altitudes than Mumbai (which is sea level), somewhere around 2,000 feet. This means that they will also be a bit colder. At any rate, there is only so much knowledge to be gleaned from the internet on these places, particularly my to-be home of Rajgurunagar, which forces me to just jump in there and see how things are in reality. I'm getting sick of books and the internet anyway--it's time to learn again from some genuine life experience!

And the more experiences, the better. So let's take that plane over there and see what happens!

(Oh yeah...as for goals, I'm sticking to the basics: I want to come out knowing I have given it my all, that I have been patient, worked to develop meaningful relationships with those in the organization and in the village, that I have worked hard at my job and made some sort of contribution [as much as i possibly can, and this, of course, will be based on harsh self-criticism!], that I learn some more Marathi/Hindi and use it effectively, that I use my street smarts/develop them more, have fun, eat great food, learn a lot, develop as a person, and then take it all back with me and share it with others, allowing the experience to mold who I am as a person and what I may do in life...all the while keeping an open mind and a tolerant attitude, a thirst for knowledge and the unknown and a longing to share all I can, especially my love. How does that sound? OK let's do it!)

P.S. I will greatly miss my family, friends, and girlfriend the two months I am gone, and wish them all the best. In the meantime, I hope to have a fulfilling experience in every aspect of the word, and to come back a wiser and more caring person.

Okay, my friend, that's wonderful...now it is time to get a little rest!

Posted by dmbenn at 09:30 AM | Comments (0)