dmbenn's blog

November 28, 2008

flashback

Does it seem as though this will become a habit? That every time a distant memory earlier hidden in the deep crevices of that part of my mind marked "India" lurks back into my consciousness, sleep or daydream, I instinctively revert to its decoding via the magic of the tapping keys -- the morse of my mind's lazy eye when it opens yet again? Most likely. It's too bad the temptation to do so has rendered the pastime of secret diary inscriptions all but obsolete.

When I saw the front page of the LA Times today -- a vivid color night-shot of a building in the background, bodybags and smeared blood in the fore -- I thought back to the multiple terrorist attacks that occurred while I was there. A shrilling cry ran down my spine. And then I thought, what can be done? "Nothing," was the quick response. The only thing to feel, then, was impotence.

It reminded me how I wrote about terrorist attacks in my blog. But the way in which I remembered writing it struck me most: abstract, theoretical, distanced -- emotional, yes, but without real aim. Where the hell were the first-hand stories? Sure, there were a couple, but lacking, definitely lacking. I had completely neglected this very personal one...maybe because it was almost surreal.

I was working on the computer. Vikas, by boss, came rushing in. "David--David--come--come...come with me now please." He made a frantic motion with his hand, ready on his toes. Even though I didn't particularly trust the guy, I sensed that something serious was up. So I quickly left my work and stepped out the door. He said, "quick, come to the hospital," and began to run. I began to run with him, but he was pretty slow, so I sped up and soon arrived at the hospital.

As I walked up the steps, the maids directed me through the kitchen, down the main hallway, pointing to one of the rooms. I turned a quick right and a scene of confusion unfolded before my eyes. Doctors were rushing around yelling; nurses were coming and going; there was a woman, lying motionless, facing away from me, her feet at the opposite wall; she wore a patterned hospital gown, an IV in her wrist.

They told me to turn the knob on the oxygen tank. I tried, but it wouldn't turn. I was typically good at opening bottles, but this knob was, for all intents and purposes, glued shut. This was a test. I must not fail. I told them to give me something. They handed me a small metal bar -- maybe a wrench. But be careful: don't hit the glass ball -- if you hit it, the tank breaks, and this is the last one. I remembered all of those heavy silver tanks sitting in the kitchen. Why were there so many recently? I had never seen any before. I took careful aim at the knob, moving back and forth slowly as one must do before accurately hitting a cue ball, or, as I had been instructed to do the night when the maids and Rashishek needed to break into the floating bungalow, to smash the lock -- only this time the purpose was clear, I had to save, not break -- if I broke, the woman, leaning her head back to look up at me with her half-open, half-dead eyes, would die. I could not fail.

At this moment, I went into instinctive mode: my cognition was crystal-clear, objective, pre-programmed; there was no questioning the moment, only to perform my function, my duty. I felt at ease, confident. I swung at the knob. No give. Twice! No give. Thrice! I knocked off the glass bulb that time. Some air escaped, but it was quickly replaced. The knob was glued shut. I tried to not think of what the woman must have been thinking at the moment, staring at me constantly: "Hurry up, you foreigner! You white man, whoever you are -- Pull the trigger! Be a man! Perform your fucking duty! Save me, or kill me! Hurry up. Now! Now!"

I remembered that Manjare and I were messing around yesterday seeing who could throw this spear-like thing farther (we were pretty much even). I rushed to the kitchen, went into an adjacent room where the maids clean bloody clothes and cloths, pushed the door out of the way and found the spear-thing resting behind it against the corner. I grabbed the spear-thing and went back to the patient's room. Rashishek, with his ghastly thin, tall frame, delivered blow after precise blow with the wrench; each time, I could feel him getting weaker, and each time, I could feel the woman, who had surely lost too much blood, receding into unconsciousness, giving in to an imminent death.

They seemed a bit concerned about the spear, but at this point, what had they to lose? Of course, I did not hit it so hard at first. I simply lifted up the spear, now facing toward the door, away from the woman, heaving the spear to the roof, dropping the blunt end softly on the knob on one of the bumps at about 2:00 -- just enough to make it turn, yet safe enough not to slip and smash the life-bulb. Determined, precise, driven, I picked away for a minute or so, still without success. The consequences of my failure ceased to enter my mind. I simply revved on like a motor, trying not to think of the story Rashishek told me, where he tried to turn off the generator the bad way -- by interjecting the rotary belt and axle with a wooden plank -- and slipped and badly burned his right hand, to which he failed to tend for a few days, after which pus began to spew. Thinking back now, I can only imagine how many concerns, anxieties must have -- should have? -- been running through my head -- but no, I remained in instinctive mode throughout -- that is the only thing I noted at the time.

Then they told me to stop. There were no oxygen tanks to be found in the area, and this one clearly wasn't working. I had failed. I had been expected to meet the challenge of the unexpected and I had failed, miserably. What would happen to this woman, her eyes fading into the distance, perhaps reminiscing on the events of her short life? I had failed.

Then someone began to replace her IV pouch -- can they deliver oxygen through that? -- and the pandemonium quickly came to a close. Though I can hardly recall this part, mired in confusion, I suppose -- could it have all ended so easily, so uneventfully? -- it was then okay to leave. I remember casually walking back through the hospital hall, the walls lined with people, her family and friends, I supposed. I suppose they were able to take care of her. Though I suppose that, had they not -- had she died -- I wouldn't have heard the news, anyhow. It reminded me of the time when I stood by Madnee Maushi, looking blankly at the prematurely born baby in the incubator, her eyelids sealed shut beneath the blinding light as she tried to make it in this world, rivers of tears running down Maudnee Maushi's weathered, silent cheeks. I never did find out what happened to that tiny baby, either.

Posted by dmbenn at 05:58 AM | Comments (1)

October 05, 2008

afterthoughts

Now it's been over a month since I have left India. I just watched the slideshow I put together on youtube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckybvwLlNnI When I look at the video all I can think of is good things, and I'm really glad that I have something where I can look back and see just how beautiful the experience was. But the experience was so many things. It was first and foremost a learning experience, one that made me think, one that exposed me to things I never would have never been exposed to otherwise; it was an experience that brought several meaningful friendships into my life, ones I believe will never fade; it was an experience that taught me more about who I already was, and, through time and introspection, gave me the opportunity to think about what I would become in the near and distant future; it took me out of my comfort zone at times, yet at others (like my experiences with rural life), I was brought into realities that made me feel far more comfortable than I often feel in my "realities" back home; it made me think about the (often overemphasized and just plain convoluted) notion of "poverty," making me realize that the negative connotations the word carries not only overgeneralize and stigmatize, but are, much of the time, quite contrary to the truth (one might say that there is indeed much beauty in simplicity -- and yet much of the time, these "simple" things are not at all so simple as they might appear at first glance; what's more, just because one is in the much-fabled Rural India, doesn't mean that poverty has to exist in any sense of the "dirty" word -- although, undeniably, it does, and this trip has driven me to do all i can to fight its oftentimes seemingly hopeless tide); the experience gave me time to pursue things I never would have pursued at home, such as learning a language that is peculiar to the state of Maharashtra -- Marathi (at least a decent bit of it, anyway) -- and spending some of my downtime reading plenty of entries (about places, political ideologies, philosophers, etc. in the Collier's encyclopedia collection, conveniently located in the office, as well as several other weird books I brought along with me (misconstrued notions of free trade [well, sort of...], "humour," Freakonomics, etc.); the experience -- as I would hope one's experience in another country for a significant amount of time (and without any fellow compatriots) would be -- left me quite immersed in the culture of the village, and the barriers to communication began to break down a bit -- that is, i became less conscious of them, which in turn allowed me to communicate with my new friends in a way that reinforced the universality of people: no matter where I was, no matter how isolated from "my world" I sometimes felt to be (although, frankly, such unfamiliarity is perhaps what I often enjoy most), I observed that certain (just about all, really) gestures, mannerisms, practices, rules of conduct -- these things transcend any differences noticed between people, which, while noticed, may add to the particular beauty of each culture (and which may also estrange it from one's own, rendering it an exhibit for the thirsty "anthropologist's" every desire -- this sickens me, though I myself am probably not at all exempt), at once become irrelevant -- indeed, un-noticed -- and the bright, cleansing light of humanity is all that can be seen, all that matters anymore! Well, to be perfectly honest -- aren't I always (to a default!)? -- that's not entirely true with me. I am still left debating the importance of humanity vs. the importance of the environment -- i.e., Communism or Green Radicalism, which, when put into these stringent ideologies, find themselves tugging at one another harder than ever -- and hopefully I will reconcile the two either before I pull out my all my graying hair, or, in the worst case scenario, before I die -- because one day, it just might happen! -- I may just find myself returning to India in the process. I love India, through and through.

Posted by dmbenn at 01:13 AM | Comments (0)

August 18, 2008

on the bus

I am in a bus I have left the village everyone is beautiful I am wearing their hat and speaking their tongue the women are beautiful and multicolored I like how their jewelry matches their saris their children are so beautiful they dress them so nicely such intricate patchwork the mothers work so hard two women face each other across the aisle they are strangers one is older with a comfortably exposed belly the other younger with two small precious children their knees are interlocked and they sleep together in peace I am pressed against a kind stranger his toes are covered in mud I drift off comfortably we are not passengers we are active participants and I write with a phone a tangle of colors sway in unison with the whims of the road they couldn’t be more at peace I love them.

Posted by dmbenn at 02:40 AM | Comments (0)

August 07, 2008

kickin' it up a notch

I've already delivered the presentation (the 8-minute video, along with a short informative powerpoint) to a few guests at the center. Apart from the first group of influential Indian women and the "motivator" from New Zealand, a CEO from a tractor company came the other day. Very nice guy. He had some constructive criticism for the video, which is why, after I spent some time fine-tuning it--softer and more relevant music, slower pace of show, captions appearing for longer, categorizing each section (medical care, sanition, eduction, etc.)--I am so happy with the final product. But I still have to put the final up on youtube.com (which, come to think of it, I will do now since the internet is back after several days of absence).

As for outreach, it hasn't been a success thus far. As you might have figured, it's not so easy reaching the top of big corporations. I talked to the CEO's secretary of Bilcare, a multinational pharmecetical packaging company (an interesting idea for a company, probably the only one that specializes in this and only this), and she said to send him an e-mail--yet now it's been a couple days, and still no response. We are also trying to get some water filter donations for the schools. The CEO of Hindustan Unilever Ltd., a huge Indian company based in Delhi, is on the board of this organization. I sent him an e-mail, but still no response. The board, it seems, doesn't want to push their luck with him. So they'll have me call him soon enough. There has been a success, however: I sent an e-mail to Tata Consultancy Services, a huge company that has supported the society in the past, and they quickly agreed to provide a spoken English training course for 100 teachers.

But you didn't really think we were going to continue this lame e-mail strategy, did you? (And of course, this has not coninued for long...only the past week or two.) Although the society is inexperienced in marketing--as they have truly been very self-sufficient so far, paying for their day-to-day operations with their own earnings--the org is backed by some smart, creative people. Dr. Sathe made the following suggestion: put the presentation on a laptop, bring a generic letter on my behalf (signed by the society, with the logo and the whole works), and just go to the companies and say, "Here I am (like it or not!)"

When it's so difficult to get the job done, it makes me appreciate the mere opportunity to do so at all; this, combined with my growing passion for what the organization does, as well as my love for the villagers (which I think is reflected in the video), simply disintegrates any anxiety/self-consciousness I may have had about the delivery of the presentation itself, but rather entices me pursue the task full force, uninhibited (and if not enough, the free samples from the wine factories I will be visiting should finish the job), asking myself only one question in the process: "How can I get the message across to my "targets" in the most quick, effective manner, thereby ending the affair with an open wallet?" (I know what you're thinking now...)

It would have been nice to have some marketing training. But come to think of it, the more training you have, ironically, the worse you might do at times. Not many people like the manufactured Mr. Slick, especially when dealing with such sensitive issues as rural development and large sums of money; rather, I think it's the passion, the sincerity, the devotion, and the knowledge that naturally comes along with those things which makes for an effective salesperson. I might be half-way there in regard to the latter, for I've only been here two months--but I might get a couple points for foreigner's effort (I am getting some compliments on my Marathi skills, I cannot deny!). Pragmatist's final thought of the day: Let's see what happens, and let the results be the judge. (If you have read the blogs till now, you may have noticed that I have a multi-personality enhancement (AHEM!...not disorder)--though more so in writing than in speech and sleep-walking.)

Posted by dmbenn at 10:41 AM | Comments (0)

August 04, 2008

visit to India

Lost in its beauty
Totally dissapear my other thinks.
Felt I am some part of its beuty.
I thank the God.

--Aryan (are-yawn), 16, friend from Icon cyber cafe

Posted by dmbenn at 11:32 AM | Comments (0)

August 01, 2008

rhyme

[Reading the brilliant William Blake, I could not help but make some rhymes, which I place below:]

The old men, that walk
Through this desert at night
Shifting rocks, rising peasants
Unveil barren their plight?

In time may they pass
Just in time to foresee
The light just beyond
The last fallen tree?

Would the vultures above
Sea-way visions at bay
Lay them guilty by night
Just in time for today?

One day may they rest
In echoed uttering rhyme?
Ill-sighted horizons
Spliced tension of time

Beholden the aged
To spires of gold?
Rest faith in their journey
Their story be told

Posted by dmbenn at 02:33 PM | Comments (0)

July 30, 2008

the 'macro' experienced

Last night, I talked with Dr. Sathe, and, based on our casual conversation, I had no idea he would be coming today. He is a good and wise man, and I had long awaited his arrival; we had much to talk about. To my surprise, when I woke up, I was told that he would be arriving in just a few hours. Well, he didn't show up, for the rain was too heavy. To replace him, little did I know, was a pack of some influential characters in the field of development.

The moment I walked into the bungalow--that myterious cube floating, existing in the middle of the barren field that is my back-yard--to eat with these unexpected guests, I knew I was in the presence of some high company. They were all very interested to know what I was doing here, how I came, etc. With their stately statures, ornate dresses, and high-class dialect, these Queen Elizabeths would seem to be what true "populists" like to call our present-day Obamas: elitists. Educated they were, but conceited--class accouterments aside--they were not. These folks were adamant about changing society; witnessing the can-do, "arm-chair-critique"-critiquing attitude of these poverty-fighting veterans in action made me forget about everything else (including minute frustrations of the often slow-moving village NGO life) as I found myself wholly inspired by their determined life-long pursuit of justice, at bliss in the company of those who have championed and rendered malleable the hitherto fossilized (in my ancient mind's eye) amalgamation of greed, classism, racism, and apathy that has troubled me so:

Maya Shahani is the chair of the Shahani Academic & Global Empowerment Foundation. She is an incredibly kind, brilliant woman, and a pleasure to talk with. She wants me to help start a program that teaches rural students how to use the internet.

Aasha Japase is the general secretary of All India Panchayat Parishad, which overlooks all Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) in India; she works closely with the central government in an effort to unite them.

Mike Handcock is a native of New Zealand in his forties, I'd say (once I get internet access, though, I can look up his age, which, according to the others--and himself, but in the least pretentious way--it is not so difficult to find). He has traveled all around the world, is a musician, and holds a position on the board of Excel International, an organization of entrepreneurs with the goal of charitably contributing to developing nations. Apparently very wealthy and veritably balding, Mike wrote a 50,000 rupee (1,200 USD) check to one of the schools we visited. (It's for a generator; he was perturbed by the fact that the school has two usable computers, yet that the power only runs for a few hours a day. I recommended to Aasha that they consider using the check for solar power instead, as it is more than enough money to get one panel (perhaps a few) and there is no need for a noisy, expensive, polluting diesel-guzzler in the school just to power a couple computers and lights. She seemed taken by the idea.) When you add it all up (not excluding the others, all famous in their own right), Mike is quite an impressive character, perhaps a Renaissance Man in a new light, a new make of "cool" in the age of Global Consciousness: He has already written seven books, and decently popular ones, it seems. He said they apply ancient history to our current world problems--a (or perhaps THE) cretive synthesis, as a history major and aspiring "development-worker" of sorts, that intrigues me. I'll have to look into those. He has a facebook, which is why he appears top-notch in this blog--indeed, a link to my blog can be found on the site, which he may just come across. But really, a very fine man. He said, "We need to do more giving, and less getting...because you end up getting in the end anyway"; I added, "and that kind of getting is a whole lot better anyway, isn't it?" He is working on a video that will promote various Indian NGO's. He likes the short video I have made, and will include it in his own site that publicizes NGO's. He gave me a couple of suggestions, and also savvily recommended I cut down on the wordage in my powerpoint presentation--as I will do here. (As for the critique of the group, they are liberal; they didn't think that my little fecal humor in the video was excessive, but rather enjoyed it!) He also did a quick video interview where he asked me about my experience here in rural India; afterward, he said, "Don't worry, I'll edit it!"

Check out this site: http://www.mdh.co.nz/default.asp?action=article&ID=106

Dr. Govind Ram Gurbaxani--he told me to call him Dr. Guru, or just plain Guru, that's what everyone calls him nowadays--is an M.D., an F.I.C.O.G. (gynecology specialist), Ph. D., and the chairman of a center in Mumbai that does gynecological surgery, acupuncture & pain relief, asthma, allergies, and day care. He holds a board position on the NGO I am working with, BMCWS, and he is quite a brilliant, ancient, and straight-up hilarious fellow, if you ask me! He has a bald head, save for a few wiry hairs here and there; gigantic ears; a closely pressed yet inconspicuously care-free, hooked nose; old leather skin; deeply set, bright, piercing eyes that look at you with the soul of a five-year-old, even though they are growing smaller, and ride above deep swelling rings of wisdom; he struts in black shiny shoes and high-water corduroys, pulled tightly up to his belly-button; sports a beige long-sleeved collared shirt, with some kind of handkerchief coming through the collar where the tie might be, in such a way that I almost thought of an old Western film, yet it was too small to quite match anything in my mental lexicon; walks with a slight slouch, solid nevertheless; and wields dinosaur arms that never rest at the sides, yet typically don't move either: they wait in angst to naturally, systematically perform their next operation. Once his brother left the clinic for a three-year leave, so he had to do everything on his own; he learned so much that he began to do things not even the books could tell you. He told me this three times: he reached inside, even though they told him not to, grabbed the placenta, and yanked it out. I still don't quite understand the whole story and its significance, but this seems to be why they call him "Dr. Guru"--not Dr. Gurbaxani. When we were visiting the school, he would talk with me and walk--more of the former. He would take a step or two, turn his face to mine, say a few hundred words, take another step or two, and continue this process. He walked with a stiff knee, so I would help him down the wet steps if his eyes seemed to register a bit of hesitation. Dr. Guru made two things clear: he has never been afraid, and he has never failed--there is something in the sky that renders such things impossible. As I helped him into the car, he told me not to forget the stories he told me, bearing his knowing, youthful, enthusiastic, white little chiclets of teeth.

Posted by dmbenn at 02:50 AM | Comments (0)

July 28, 2008

changing climate: widespread terror

The climate is changing in India these days. The weather has shifted from unseasonably dry and sunny to murky and rainy. This is good for the farmers, and the water supply in the city is now, contrary to last week, often gushing with water.

But the social climate offers no such benefits. This past week, forty-five dead in a terrorist attack in Ahmedebad; one dead and major destruction following eight blasts in Bangalore; eleven protesters killed for defying curfew in Jammu--the social climate is in a state of utter despair.

Killings just a few weeks back along the Pakistani border led the entire nation to protest, all closing down shop and sacrificing a day's pay in a bitter display of solidarity.

Dealing with the day-to-day realities of poverty and the stench of pervasive environmental degredagation is difficult enough, but the thirteen car bombings in Mumbai in 1993 that left officially 257 dead and 712 injured; the second unexpected and severe hit, the 7/11 Mumbai train blasts in 2006, that left 209 dead and over 700 injured; and the 13 May 2008 bombings in Jaipur that left 63 dead and over 216 injured, compounded with the rapid succession of recent terrorist attacks, should be all too much to handle. A deep social fatigue is setting in.[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terrorism_in_India#Chronology_of_major_incidents; the list is far longer and more severe than I had realized]

India is known for its climate of safety, the only place with a signifacant amount of guns being Uttar Pradesh, but now, in a strike of grotesque inhumanity, terrorism has begun to achieve its objective: people are getting scared, and there is nowhere--not even in India, a land with peace-loving people--that seems safe. Even though the number of deaths is relatively small compared to warfare, or death from AIDS, for instance, the fact that it can hit innocent citizens at a second's notice is alarming.

Similar to the U.S. after 9/11, a police "witch-hunt" occurred after the Bombay bombings, when hundreds of Muslims were arrested.

It is such a difficult situation in which we find ourselves inextricably tied. To further my discussion of urbanity (and likely beat it over the head), it is as though the more man tries to build up his achievements, and the more he places them under the lime-light, the more he targets them before the lazer-beam, inadvertently yet inevitably subjecting them to looting and burning by his omnipresent enemies. The city is the landmark of ostentaion, the beacon of danger. Yet we cannot stay away from it.

Someone once argued, rather provocatively, that even though we today have nuclear weapons which have brought the world "to the brink of destruction," and that things seem so lamentable as they are, that we are far better off than we were in ancient times, when empires burned down everything in their path trying to rule the world. Now, they argue, the presence of nuclear warfare forces us, through our brilliant animalism, to become "mature" and "responsbile" beings--manifested through the decisions of states. (Granted there is not some slight malfunction.) If this were the case, then, warfare would be elevated to such technologically awe-inpspiring heights as to defeat itself (indeed, one of few, if any, worthy self-defeats of modernity), rendering us better off than even, perhaps, one-hundred years ago.

If one steps back from the present atrocities, as hard as it may be, and looks at this world from a historical perspective, one may take note of man's seemingly endless quest for power and the self-righteous pursuit of ideology--to which we may all have fallen victim--and come to realize not only how anarchic and animalistic the world has come to be, but the extent to which such a reality has always been--and perhaps always will be, for there is yet to be found, to my knowledge, a remedy for terrorism. In so doing, might one stumble upon an uncanny pocket of refuge? Might one find faith in futility?

But actions in the last half-century, like the creation of the UN, although not perfect, serve as a more realistic channel for hope. Such organizations, while at times self-defeating (and not benignly so, as before), have still made great strides and represent humankind's collective and enlightened attempt to allow its true "humanity" to shine through its armor of self-imposed fear. In the meantime, what else do we have? We can hunt down every Muslim on the block, but I figure it's time we learned from history and began hacking away a path, if superficially convoluted and burdensome, toward solidarity.

Posted by dmbenn at 08:07 AM | Comments (0)

July 25, 2008

prose

[just to toss bit of masala into the mix.]

the times have grown stale,
the dark is rusting,
days are clouding in,
people are no longer talking,
minds are becoming infested with the
what-nots of like-minded crab-eyes
bubbling in emotionality gone numb
as the moonlit mouthfuls of decomposing stew
in a glued lip caved in a cold sliver
of servitude in an old night's day
under the auspices of freedom close in.

That's it: we will eat bananas. they contain nutritious values
unparalleled by the clarity of crude apparitions
in yesterday's mind's eye of
sorrow's delights renewed.

But we must relish in them--or burrow ourselves
in pleasing matriculations of passing thought
until the mosquitoes have had their having
of blood-thirsty utterances
compensated between
the equidistant clamp of containment that heeds no whispers
swirling in a purple sky of skin
collapsing upon the newly renowned pleasantries
of usurping the age-old after-tale of
reason
for a squelching of adventurism amidst the now indistinguishably
midnight grasp of unfulfilled reason
as the grass is dying
it is dawn.

Posted by dmbenn at 04:56 AM | Comments (0)

July 23, 2008

uprooted and thirsty

Water is scarce these days. When I fist arrived, it was not much of a problem. The electricity was also on for at least several hours during the daytime. Now the electricity is off practically the entire day--not the biggest problem in the village, but a big enough nuisance--and water hardly runs at all, or weakly when it does. Today it was running for less than an hour. If you miss it, you may not have anything to drink the entire day. Now it is almost midnight and the pipes are still dry. It's the rainiest time of the year--albeit light this week--and yet there is no water. What will happen during the dry season?

Just a guess: the water is being conserved for the dry season, for there is not enough to distribute it abundantly at the moment wihtout seriously jeopardizing the winter supply. Or: Some water is being stored; the rest is siphoned off to places that can afford it, like the wealthy city of Pune. But water shouldn't have to be "affordable," should it? Is it not a basic right for all? As for me, I buy bottled water called Bisleri that comes in 2-liter bottles for fifty cents--cheap for me, but not so much for most locals when they need it most.

Another problem is the building of the Chakan International Airport. They say that one airport is not enough for Pune District; it will be a trading port, located just fifteen minutes from here. It's taken a few years for the plan to break through because of some obstacles the authorities are facing: they first need to plow tens of thousands of families out of their way. The airport requires 3,332 hectares of land, or around 8,000 acres. However, this is not such a big deal. Let's be realistic: the families will receive decent compensation from the governemnt for their slight inconvenience, and many new jobs will open up as a result. Every good thing must come along with a sacrifice or two. Althogh those uprooted farmers will lose all of their developing crops and the fields they have been cultivating for generations, and will not get any of the jobs offered from this new phenomenon, and, when you throw into the mix emotional distress, the break-up of tightly knit communities, and the fact that the compensation they receive will hardly be enough to buy a new plot of land (especially because the airport itself will raise the prices of land), it will all be worth it because their neighbors who did not have to experience similar pains will achieve gains that far outweigh their macrocosmically infinitesimal losses. Indeed, net gain is all that counts in an efficient society.

Merely because the people had no say in this decision does not connote any sort of exploitation of the poor, or some lack of democracy; hte U.S., the bastion of democracy, has similarly had no problem uprooting and relocating Detroiters for the sake of a better infrastructure, thereby fulfilling their populist promise to secure the greater good for the greatest number of people possible.

Needless to say, this is development, and, naturally, it is therefore good. Alternatives? There is no time for those. I see a fine opportunity before me, and I will squeeze it of all the blood I can, before it stops pumping, for entrepreneurs, of course, must be opportunistic; if it yields nectar, I might even let the fortunate citizens have a lick or two.

This is nothing new; such clearances happen regularly. Does that mean I should casually accept them? Sandeep and I are looking for a good opportunity to head over to Chakan, where we can talk to the villagers and see how they feel about it. If we get the chance, we might talk to the airport authorities--wherever "they" are--as well as the press.

Posted by dmbenn at 03:49 AM | Comments (0)

July 18, 2008

"mid-term report"

Now my stay is just over half-way through, and I'm really happy with the way things are turning out.

As for the internship itself, I have finished a video with some of the photos I have taken. It can be found on youtube.com under Bombay Mothers and Children Welfare Society, but I haven't added the revised version yet. Its purpose: it should be accessable through the website and will be used at the beginning of presentations; it can also be screened at banquets and whatnot. I worked for some time on it, and am happy with the result. It tells a lot about the organization, and shows villagers just looking happy. Why not? You gotta get at their hearts, right? Just showing them stastistics and things they are all to familiar with certainly couldn't be the right way. As for my other "concrete" work, I have also revised a powerpoint presentation originally made by the secretary of the org, Dr. Sathe. I don't think the org expects much from its interns, because the ones before me--frmo Canada, Japan, and Australia--didn't really do much but play around. So hopefully I can raise the bar a bit!

I just talked with Dr. Sathe today. Now that I have the presentation ready, he said he will send me contact information of corporations in the area.

The rest of my experience has been great. I have made many friends, perhaps too many (everyone wants to come meet the foreigner; this has led to some strange situations, like boys coming over and messing with my and Vikas's locks (the kind on doors), a man visiting me while I was working on the computer and trying to make a move, and playing a soccer game at the local school (Mahatma Gandhi High) with a team of 50 little boys--fun one time, but I prefer to play with the regular crowd of only 10 to 15.). There are also a few individuals in particular with whom I have grown pretty close.

I have grown closest, naturally, with those that I talk to most, the maids. Every meal, I eat in the kitchen, and they are usually hanging out there or coming through. I practice a lot of Marathi with them, which has really helped my skills. (I can count to 20 easily, say ten or so basic phrases, and know about 50 basic vocabulary words, along with a few verbs in the present tense. For example, "mala pah-nee pah-hee-jay" means "I want water please," and "tu malah bay-toon anunda-watla" means nice to meet you. It's a fun language, and pretty systematic.) I have grown closest with Madnay Maushi (I have found out that Maushi is not derogatory in any way, as I thought; it is more of an endearing word and simply means Auntie). Her posture is incredibly solid, she has neatly pulled back salt-and-pepper hair, a very high-pitched voice, and a beautifully aging face. She doesn't pronounce her expressions, and she doesn't have to: her eyes tell it all, portraying concern and compassion; even when her lips hold back her brilliant smile, her eyes would do no such thing. The other day, she was sitting down on one of the hospital beds, looking at the new-born lying in the incubator. The baby's eyes would not open and she weighed a mere three pounds--much too small, she said. I stood by her and looked at the baby. After some time, tears began to fall down Madnay Maushi's cheeks.

Abeta (Maushi) and I have grown close too. We have our little jokes to make fun of the boss. She speaks the most English of all the maids (there are five in total). She brought in her brother, Rashishek, as a security guard, a much needed job for him. She also lets him live in her home--about 15 by 20 feet--along with his wife, Taiseem, and four-year-old daughter, Bushra. I ate lunch two Sundays ago at their place, and last Sunday at their friend's place. We ate mutton (so much for my veg-streak). Rashishek is low on cash; he hasn't gotten paid yet for this job, and when he does it will be, from what I understand, something less than $100 a month. Needless to say, he and his family are incredibly generous, and possess the kind of hospitality I have witnessed of all Indians I have ever come across. Several people have told me that a guest is like God--in fact, he may be a manifestation of a God him/herself. (From what I have seen, Hinduism is an enlightening and peaceful religion. If I were to humbly question any aspect of the religion, however, from the limited knowledge I have, I would question the fact that it seems to explicitly support the caste system. Its use in India appears to have derived from the Aryan conquerers back in about 400 C.E., and it is strongly concerned with purity in one's caste. Because of this, marrying outside one's caste, or, even to some extent today, eating or affiliating oneself in any way with those from lower castes, is strictly forbidden. Maintaining the purity of oneself in one's respective caste is crucial, and for a simple reason: it is said that, if a person can achieve this purity (which I think is manifested in the swatstika, which Nazi Germany interpreted in a slightly different fashion), then when she is reincarnated in the next life, she will move up in the caste system [I don't know the specifics of this but know it is very complicated--however, there are four "main" categories: priest, warrior, merchant, and worker--yet thousands of strata in total]. In defense of the system, it is argued that, through its close observance, everyone would have their own role in society, and competition would hence be decreased, if not eliminated entirely--vaguely similar to an "ideal" Communist state, where the gov't (here in place of religion) would dole out the roles for those "best fit" to fulfill them. (Not that I do not support a more watered down version of state control, which is mandatory to check the corroding effects of a market run amok). The main problem with the caste system, it seems, is that--assuming there might not be an afterlife--it justifies and reinforces an arguably (I should hope obviously) expliotative hierarchy, making people feel that their low position is justified. What ruling class could be happier with such a belief system, one that cements in place their inferiors via divine mandate? Of course, efforts have been made, starting in the early 20th century, to eliminate it, but they have only come so far. While the system is basically extinct in the cities--treatment is more based on occupation, merely an indirect product of caste--it is still pervasive in rural areas. In fact, all Indians, rural and urban alike, still have their caste printed on their offical gov't ID card. When one thinks of inequality and poverty in India, then, I don't think one can neglect its rather telling base, the caste system. It certainly deserves a further look, because there is nothing more ineffective than attacking the wrong root of a problem--especially one so cruial as poverty, which might just be rooted in the unjust, excessive stratification in society. That is where a deeper understanding of the world, and how it came to arrive at its present circumstances, is so crucial, and why I am taking the time to learn about it through history and learning experiences before hastily embarking on my own "solution" of solutions.)

I am also good friends with both doctors, Jyoti and Sandeep, both of whom are gynecologists in their late twenties and cheerful folks who are always down for a good conversation. Sandeep just came back from a ten-day leave, having gone back to care for his sick mother. Jyoti was pretty much on an endless shift during that time. She did get some time for a break, though. She took me to a temple (don't tell Sir!), which is located in a very scenic location, right by the river and the college she attended. There were hundreds of bats above in the trees, but it was daytime, so I suppose they couldn't see. So people don't come at nighttime, no matter how devout...so she says! I guess I'll have to check for myself one of these days, to be sure (the only use of the phrase, "to be sure," that doesn't irritate me--the other use of which I have fallen victim at least three or five times in my more recent days). There was a beautiful pond, and she said this is the most scenic place in Rajgurunagar. Perhaps she meant in "Raj. proper," for the villages and misty mountains and rolling hills are breathtaking.

I have also made a couple good friends outside the hospital, among them Janardan at this internet cafe, Amit at the other (the one across from us--the one where this blog doesn't work). Amit is going to take me on on a trip this Sunday. He often goes with his two cousins, and he is also going to bring my boss, Vikas--if he wakes up in time, or doesn't change his mind, something he is prone to do. I don't mind, though. The guy has lightened up a bit. After seeing the video he made of his son Baboo's 1st birthday--with dancing telle-tubbies in slow motion--I had to give him his fist couple of points!

The music in India is great. There are five or six songs that regularly play on the radio, the ones from recent Bollywood movies. There is a strong sense of pride, and people love their holidays. Everyone seems to be really happy, and families are very close. It is impossible to meet someone without having met another one of their family members; because of this, there are no secrets here! As for the villages, as I mentioned above, they are strikingly beautiful. I still haven't exactly figured it out, but the configuration of the place goes something like this: Rajgurunagar is in the huge district of Pune (which also houses the city of Pune itself, like LA and LA proper), and is one of thirteen talkukas, or towns. (I was wondering, What is all this talk about taluka Khed?? They seemed to be used interchangably! Indeed, that is just the case. Khed is the old name of the town, which was recently switched to honor the freedom fighter, Rajguru, who shot a corrupt British police officer in 1928 and subsequently hanged in 1931.) Rajgurunagar consists of a series of villages, and nobody really knows how many. 100? 200? 35? Jyoti, the social worker, who travels to the 33 villages under the auspices of the org, should know pretty well, and she says there are about 150 villages. Others seems to agree with this. All Wikipedia has to say is that there are about 100,000 people, which I also heard from Dr. Sathe. So, I'm figuring it out--slowly...but surely... At any rate, I'm having fun in the process.

Posted by dmbenn at 09:41 AM | Comments (0)

July 14, 2008

documentaries

Today is one of those days where you do not brush your teeth. You just don't. And in not brushing your teeth, you gain a sense of pure liberation: you do as you wish.

Yet I guess my claim to pure liberation, when I think about it, is flawed, because my choice was practically dictated for me: the water pipes were broken. I could have gone out of my way to brush my teeth, but this would have been an uncomfortable act, and acts of discomfort seem to not be the free thing to do. So I oblige: I did not brush my teeth because--and only because--it would have been uncomfortable to do so, and I prefer to do the comfortable thing.

Most people here do not brush their teeth anyhow. They use a substance of mixed tobacco and lime and other stimulating particules mixed into a substance that comes in a one-rupee one-by-one inch white--labeled--bag called ghupka. It tastes pretty good. I guess that in mimicking them, albeit in a guided sort of way, I felt free.

Some documentarists came last week and filmed a documentary of BMCWS (the NGO I'm working with) for the film festival "I am the Change." They made a very interesting five minute film on the organization, focusing on what it does in the villages. It had a sort of post-modern feel, not really trying to say anything, just showing things, with lower-cased letters that described very vaguely the initiatives of the organization, and, most interestingly, the phrases, boring as they were, were in quotes, as if they carried more meaning than they professed. I think this was good. They romanticized the villages; this requires little effort, editing, not to mention technology. It was an appropriately minimalist approach--even when you consider that they only had two days to make it. The pan of the group sitting on a grassy mountaintop before a great valley and misty skies was my favorite part--and probably the only part that one might call somewhat professional. But that's subjective. This was art.

I was standing in front of a shop the other day. Men were at work on the floor with small pieces of machinery. Supposedly, they were parts of generators. Ashok was talking with a man by his motorcycle; they were both rubbing tobacco in their hands. People do not drink very much here, but they chew a lot of tobacco. This is when I first tasted ghupka.

We were waiting for some time. I was watching the men working with the parts for some time. They were working very meticulously for some time. Their hands had so blackened from the grease that I wondered if they would be able to wash it off when they went home to eat with their families. They sat under an awning. Behind me was a busy dusty street. Between that was a view of some mountains and a river: it was overflowing with trash, a truly romantic image I had never seen before; the river was deep, the banks high and steep, covered in trash. It was enormous; breathtaking. It reminded me of when I was up North in the Tibetan refuge of Dharamsala working with the garbage company, and the sixteen-year old man in charge of it all (the rest were Tibetan women) would yell "KINYEE KAMBO [dry waste]."

Standing there for such a long time, waiting passively, my focus had shifted from myself as the foreigner, the one who subconsciously receives the peculiar stares, into the selfless observer as I became entranced by the repetitive turn of events before me: Ashok and man talking and rubbing tobacco; men working meticulously on the floor with greased hands; dust floating; trash flowing. I was watching a documentary. This was no longer life--it was a level of consciousness dubbed documentary. Things are always far more interesting when you are watching a documentary. All of the most interesting things we see are in a doucmentary, on some screen. It must have been a documentary. Indeed, nothing could be more interesting than watching the events on this screen shifting before me. Real life, day-to-day life, would have been too boring. But I suppose, for the time being, I was in life-mode--3-D and all. Some clicker in the lower level of my consciousness had shifted my perspective--and to be sure, isn't the perspective of another person (you know, any other person than the one you embody) always a bit more interesting? Yet maybe it is irrelevant whether or not one's own life is interesting. After all, we are all fragments of the world we breathe; it is us, and we are it. We can obsess over the micro, or we can become fixated on the micro--but in reality, we cannot see one without the other. Individual experience cannot be distinct from knowledge, for Knowledge must include tangible knowledge to be true knowledge--not merely that which we can read in a book, or hear in a lecture. By viewing the world as the world itself, from the lens of the world itself, throwing into the mix our Earthly eyeballs, maybe then we can truly start to take an objective outlook. My experience in this respect thus far has been minimal.

Now I may have caught myself receding into a state of philosiphization, and I bend the rules: once the water came back on, I brushed my teeth. I will begin by describing the characters of my documentary next time around--I repeat, it may be too soon to tell.

Posted by dmbenn at 07:30 AM | Comments (0)

July 07, 2008

you gotta serve somebody

Life can break you down.

Imagine: You wake up in the morning in a small plaster complex. You share a hard, flea-infested bed with several of your beloved family members--if you are lucky; that is, if one or more have not died an early death, or if there is a bed for you at all. You walk outside. You take a deep breath of the noxious fumes emanating from your neighbor’s burning heap of trash, wet dung of various species (mostly the regulars: canine, porcine, bovine), and the decomposing, detritivore-ridden remnants of still unburned waste. You fetch a pail of water from an open barrel; to which elements it has been exposed, you cannot say. (Now fill in the blank for your morning duties--the barrel may be very low), you kiss your family goodbye, and begin your day of servitude.

Service is a big industry in India. I can complain about it all day, but that won’t change the fact that it is demanded by India’s rich (a bit excessively, if you ask me) and, like many other issues, an expected product of a big wealth gap. Service offers a way to cope with poverty, without necessitating one to resort to the oft-unwelcome alternatives of the farm or the factory.

When you come to India, you cannot help but get caught in the web of servitude--whether you are working or shouting commands, receiving (perhaps unsolicited) service or just observing. In fact, my involvement is a bit more obscure.

The middle class and rich can become so accustomed to giving orders that they might just do it in their sleep. Such is the case with my boss--yes, I'll give him that, because indeed he is. Let’s just say that we have an interesting relationship.

From the moment I have arrived, he has been very “protective." If I come home a bit late, talk to the wrong person, or touch the wrong CD, I have done something very wrong. Under the guise of protection, I am prematurely chastised--as if I were to automatically know his arbitrary set of unwritten “rules." Of course, he is only protecting me; India is a "dangerous place" that I am unfamiliar with--structurally, culturally, linguistically. I don’t blame him. Indeed, he is responsible for me--and for every single one of my actions at that.

Alas, I was a bit too late, and even though I knew the rules, I knew deep down that staying out late in an unlit foreign town was perhaps not in my best interest, so I dealt with it for a few days. But the more I saw him treating the maids as the lowly people their position connotes, as well as others--he is testimony of the phrase “practice makes permanence"--the less I could hold back. I could follow basic rules, as he “runs" this place (although is constantly under the radar of his superior, the secretary of the larger organization, and thus faces an inferiority complex)--but enough is enough!

So I let him have it. It started with a loud knock on the door and an earnest plea for justice and better practices on his part--a humble critique--but slipped into a unilateral bashing session--that’s right, giving it to the man. And it felt good. Once you do such a thing, there is no turning back. Obedience to authority no longer exists. (Especially one you do not really respect.)

The problem with him is minimal. After going at it for a few days, I have won the power struggle. (Oops, did I say that?) He has apologized and treaty-making, favorable on my part, is imminent. The problem is the unexpected backlash with the maids (dubbed the “maushis," though I refuse to call them this, and refuse to let them wash my dishes; they for the most part seem to appreciate it).

You see, I thought at first that disobeying the man would get me on their good side. (But as we well know, assumption kills.) The effect was quite a bit different, and multi-faceted. The boss is anti-confrontational (i.e. cowardly) and prefers to vie for his nonexistent control over me via the lever of others. Yet sorry for him, when he talks to his boss (the secretary) he gets a big laugh, for he is well aware of the tendencies of my foe, and tacitly sides with me (as does the social worker). Thus my boss resorts to the workers for consolation (for him, in the form of power)--in particular, the maids.

He does not want me associating with them, so he has somehow threatened them to the effect that, when I try and eat with them, they point and say “no! no! the boss" and make a fist-punching-face gesture--you will see this gesture of fear among all of those in the service sector. The nurses feel similarly powerless. Of course, I will not stand for such ridiculous threats, and will eat with them as I wish. While I think I am friends with them, the dilemma is obvious: it is either me, or their job. What do you think they would choose in this unfortunate predicament?

Further, instead of being viewed as beneficial in some way--sadly, if only vicariously--to them as the rebellious figure, I am rather viewed, I would think, as a spoiled brat of sorts. I have the luxury of being able to rebel against his unjust behavior. I am only here for two months; they are here for an unforeseen period of time, perhaps the rest of their life. Besides having relatively nothing to lose (and a “loss," like being “fired," could indeed turn into a wild adventure on the streets), I also have more clout than them in the organization, and may indeed pose a real threat to his authority. This can lead to contempt on their part, and they may see me as more trouble than I am worth.

My audacious behavior was ultimately not born of defense for the maids, yet they were nonetheless introduced into the mix of events. It tells you something: things will never (always) turn out as you expect, and side-effects are inevitable. I think the question comes down to this simple question: Will the avoidance of a given act put to question your morals to a greater degree than its execution? In the present case, I thought so, and acted accordingly. And it worked...this time. At least morally speaking--if we so dare-- shouldn't it always?

As for me personally, I ask myself, and others who receive a "higher" education: is this what some years (two for me) in a university will do to you--turn you into a self-righteous dissenter, a demagogue, defiant to authority, a sucker for standing up for what you believe in--no matter the cost?

Or was Bob Dylan right when he sang "you gotta serve somebody"?

Posted by dmbenn at 07:48 AM | Comments (0)

July 05, 2008

agriculture - part ii

What to think...what to think? I feel cleansed. I feel drenched. I feel unfortunate and ashamed for not seeing its utter simplicity. I feel relieved. Revised. Yet I also feel confused--brainwashed? How can it be so simple? I feel at peace--yet I prepare for war behind the scenes, for if others do not accept my notion of peace, then it can’t work--or can it? Not if they continue to expand and corrode the fringes of my peaceful state of mind, which rests upon this ideology.

Last night, as I walked across the field from my room to the hospital in the darkness, the security guard and my friend, Rashishek, called me over to a house floating by itself in the middle of the field, curiously existing. There was a loud banging noise. One of the maids was trying to break off the lock from the door. They gestured a kind of gesture that would make me think that they wanted help in this endeavor. I joyfully jumped at the opportunity. (Putting gym hours to work is satisfying, especially when the result is destructive, loud, and eerie in its unexpected and unthinking rebelliousness.)

Some guests were to arrive tomorrow (it must be today now) and they had lost the key. The lock was solid, unmoving. Hitting it with the spear was ineffective; while it has great mass, it is not possible to strike quickly enough to undo or smash the lock without similarly inconveniencing the door that tenaciously holds the piece in place. So I took a liking to the wrench, which, facilitated by some axe-hitting practice in Texas, was thrown precisely upon the left bar of the lock with seven full hearty swings; it quietly submitted.

The guests, who are staying in the floating place--but who are not in it at the moment (nor will they be tonight)--are working on a documentary. It’s for a film festival planned to occur in a couple of days--they just received the assignment: it's on NGO’s, called You Change. They are young and hip, reminiscent of the characters in the hit Indian film Rang de Basanti (they were radicals fighting till death--one by suicide--for India's independence, much like Raj Guru, the hero that this village of Rajgurunagar is named after). They went off in the ambulance earlier today. Meanwhile, I read the last bits of my book on free trade, Bad Samaritans, slightly disappointed by the fact that Ha-Joon Chang, who supports developing countries and views with contempt the policies racked against them by the “unholy trinity"--the WTO, the IMF, and the World Bank (so far so good) and yet the only real aim of his protectionist policies is for these countries to have the same opportunities as the developed ones: to “develop." Yet this protagonist is so unforgivably single-minded in his approach to global affairs--interested in nothing but mass generation of capital--that it makes me more than slightly queasy. Like a good specialized economist, he doesn’t question other factors, such as environment and loss of culture. Rather, he argues that culture can and should be changed to fit the goal of money-making, not even bothering to include a footnote on the drawbacks. Quite contemptible. Yet I thought to myself, must I regrettably submit, as the lock, to the seemingly inexorable logic which he hopes to thrust down my throat? After all, even though the notion of “development" is dubious, it may perhaps be a lesser of two evils if it can significantly alleviate poverty--and it has, in many cases--even when considering all of the drawbacks I mentioned in “my little essay."

In my little essay, I consistently viewed industry with skepticism, yet also viewed agriculture--with unwarranted presumption--as disagreeable to the worker. Surely, it makes sense; and I had reason to look after the oft-exploited worker--in my defense, not the worst crime. And I did indeed want to side with the benefits of agriculture--family values, culture, connection to Earth, sustainability, naturalism--but held an underlying assumption that the farmer is trying to get away from, in ideal circumstances, the practice--just as the worker might prefer to resist a life in the factory, serving a life of acquiescence. But I just talked with a woman working on the documentary--she calls herself a Gandhian--and it somehow baffled me; primarily, I came to quickly realize that presuming the preferred lifestyle of others is a great blunder. What surprises me is that I knew this, yet caught myself red-handed presupposing the choices of others. Yet I was mostly shocked to find myself--after comfortably bathing in the warm waters of the ideologies in the book which seemed (a few misgivings aside) controversial, exciting, and frankly, rather valid--grabbing for the nearest rock, for I didn't bother to notice the waterfall fast approaching. I was deeply engaged in the tunnel-vision symptomatic of economics, which, free-trade dialect aside--yet I still agree with Chang and prefer intelligent protectionism, flexible for the particular country and the time (no "golden straitjacket" necessary, T. Friedman), and mind you, neo-liberals, now with all the more conviction--fails to look at the world holistically. The very debate in which I endlessly toiled in my little essay, though simplistically (yet perhaps necessarily) focusing of two ideal-types--agriculture versus industry--is something completely ignored by Chang, the highly reputed Cambridgeite. And I think it is critical, more so than we could imagine. For if--and that is a big if--we are to do what is right and beneficial--both for rich countries and poor--and have everyone adopt more protectionist policies with careful balancing of subsidies and tariffs and the like, then we must first take a step back and ask a more fundamental question: If we want nations to "develop"--that magic word--what exactly do we mean by development? For the assumption of Chang, without question, is to industrialize. But then this leads to the problems of urbanity which I trace out in my last blog.

Yet we cannot deny one critical aspect: we want to alleviate poverty. While we're at it, we would also like to help the environment (which Chang says can be done by rich countries selling their technology for lower prices/easing patents, since this would make more environmentally friendly technology available--a reasonable albeit hyper-industrialist stance). We reach a bit of a problem, though, because even if poor countries do adopt "sustainable" technology, the load will be too heavy when we combine into this “worldly" mix the still sky high rates of industrialization in richer countries--and the fact that developing countries will realistically not achieve any "desirable" level of sustainable growth. Of course, poverty alleviation comes first--and was indeed PM Singh's conviction in a recent BBC article I read. And with good reason. I find myself trapped between a tightening two-walled clamp, because I support both environmental protection and poverty alleviation. Therein lies the paradox: what moral being could fundamentally oppose either one? Even people who try reconciling the two, for instance, via the Environmental Justice movement, are similarly conflicted (though perhaps they are on to something). The way we are choosing to develop now--industry--simply denies any form of peace between these two obligatory, grinding social initiatives. But who is to deny poor countries their chance to experience a full-fledged industrial revolution themselves? Would that not be to deny them the promised benefits of globalization?

Now, to get to the opinions of the documentarist. She considers herself a Gandhian. When I asked her what she thought of the NGO I am working with, Bombay Mothers and Children Welfare Society, she was, to my surprise, unimpressed--casually contemptuous, really. She said that she likes how the org. empowers people, gives them self-confidence. I said, like through the women consciousness-raising groups...and...the computer training and...English? (Can you guess the answer?) She strongly opposed the latter programs, with the belief that--as I have before mentioned--they feed people a myth of what is supposed to the "right way," stigmatizing the village ways and offering them THE alternative, making them feel confident because they can "succeed" at levels comparable to Westerners, when, after all, she argued, why can't people just say, "if you do it this way, that is fine; and if you do it this way, that is fine." She was also against hospitals, noting that about half of Indian women give birth in their own homes, and this is fine too, she says, and far more natural. There should be a focus on the home and the community--as I agree, the fact that the job of raising one's children in the "developed world" is now all but in the hands of the parents themselves is a bit of a problem. But I forgot about the quote above until I got to this paragraph; this means that she accepts--let's at least say to a degree--industry and its lifestyle for what it is (so long as it doesn't interfere with, put down, and shape myths in the minds of the villagers, I (again) presume). So perhaps I am a bit more of a "liberal" than she?

She can try and ignore the industrial sector, but it won't do her any good, not when industry inevitably moves into the village, tempting them with their "better ways"--or just dumping on them, whichever works--and likely both. As I said, I am both pro-environment and pro-poverty alleviation. But if the price of "alleviating" poverty is some intrusive, polluting industry, is that truly breaking away from poverty in the first place? Who benefits?

I am not sure if she has considered in full the consequences of her semi-lax ideology. However, becoming aggressive and fighting off these industries would be a bit hypocritical of her as a follower of Gandhi. The problem is, though, that Satyagraha (non-violent resistance, but literally "soul force" or "truth force"), if it is to be used as a tool of social change, may not be effective here: though I am no expert in the area, it seems that when it was used against the British and against apartheid, the social injustices were far "clearer" to the world, and they eventually were victorious in their endeavors. Yet when it comes to pollution and loss of culture, things aren't so clear; oftentimes, these injustices can be "compensated for" by other things that may be, arguably, inherently just as immoral as the original insult--that is, if the initial injustices are rendered as such to begin with; and, ultimately, in the 21st Century, at stake is not whether or not an injustice occurs, but the degree to which exploitation is carried out. If we are to dismiss the wisdom of Gandhi, we can do it in one of two ways: to give in to the era and say reluctantly, "this is the way things are, but let's make the best of them--I will not try otherwise, for Gandhi's teachings are no longer relevant today"; the alternative is to say, "this is no longer the era of Gandhi, and we cannot achieve the things he did in precisely the same way, but that does not mean we cannot adjust accordingly, and fight for change with just as much passion and determination."

P.S. I have become good friends with the security guard here. He is actually the brother of one of the maids (Abeta, always incredibly nice), and they are Muslim, a minority religion in India. I am Jewish, so they say Salaam, and I say Shalom, no problem. Rashishek constantly invites me over, but the timing usually doesn't work out, and he doesn't have a cell. He just showed me his place tonight when he accompanied me to get some water, and said I can come over any time, just knock, which I think I will take him up on. It was nice sitting in his house with his family--sister, nephew, wife, and son. He said his wife will cook and we'll have some beer--Kingfisher. He just moved in recently, and told me tonight that I am his first friend here.

I talked with Sandeep again, and he is indeed a very political man. He mentioned that he was in the communist party in college. It just makes me think: in many places in the world, Marxist ideas are commonplace. Yet there are the deceived. Talk to someone from China or the former USSR, and they will often be unilaterally against any notion of socialism. In the U.S., the stigma still exists. "It didn't work in the past" is the manufactured answer; "my dad says he lived through it, and it is no good." That's great--so just because something does not work in its orthodoxy means that you should resort to its opposite, fail to talk about it in an intelligent way, fail to note that it is indeed still viewed and used today in beneficial ways, and cut off further debate on an issue because of the unquestioned dogma resounding in your otherwise quiet head?

As a final note, contrary to popular belief, just because you come to India does not mean you have to get sick. I have been entirely healthy--and feel better than at home on this tasty veg diet.

Posted by dmbenn at 03:25 AM | Comments (0)

July 01, 2008

agriculture: a little essay

The monsoon season has hit full force now (I guess I shouldn't assume too early!), with pretty heavy rains every day, and very muddy streets. So not much was going on yesterday (well, except for the announced victories from the recent bank elections--which were followed by men and women, doused in red glittery paint, dancing through the night to traditional music and a bass that could be heard a mile away. of course, i couldn't resist joining in on the festivities!) and, feeling a bit queasy from the prolonged absence (over two months now) of all-nighters and college essay writing, I figured I'd give it a go. Here is the little essay that I came up with. I call it "Agriculture."

Living in a crowded, heavily polluted city like Mumbai, it is easy to forget about the agriculture that dominates India, and much of the world. Agriculture plays a central role in our lives, yet I must admit that I--at least until more recently--have practically neglected its existence. But after working on a farm in Texas for a couple of weeks, and driving by hundreds upon hundreds of families working the fields in India (and meeting many along the way), I can all but ignore the topic.

When I look at a person, hunched over in the fields, ragged clothing and bare feet, I can’t help but empathize with him or her. No doubt, the activity is burdensome and painful, and it undeniably has gotten a bad rap among that "other" world in which I, and perhaps you, have found ourselves curiously immersed; the words “poor� and “uncivilized� initially arise in many of our minds when we think of those working in the sector. Such connotations surprise me. After all, is agriculture not one of the greatest inventions of humankind, that which allowed us to move from hunters and gatherers ultimately to the “civilized� specimens that we are today? To be sure, farming is not something obsolete, but rather something we simply cannot do without. (Technology has yet to come up with a magic pill so that we no longer have to listen to our mommies and eat our vital greens.) In short, it is all too important, and irrationally looked down upon by those “better off.�

Realizing the necessity of agriculture, how can we view it with such disdain, self-righteously viewing our ways as better? I think the topic of agriculture and its relevance today deserves further attention. I will try to grapple a bit with the question at hand, with the popular viewpoints of those “olden� ways, as well as the more “modern� ones--let’s say, to a significant degree (and perhaps microcosmically), between India and the U.S.--in a sort of intuitive mental experiment.

In India, over 60% of the population works in the agriculture sector, while in the United States, it is only about 1%. By today’s standards--dictated by none other than the “developed," "first world�--people would claim that the U.S. is more developed than India--perhaps by a couple hundred years (although India, with its large population and rapid industrialization, to name a couple factors in this complex mix, is a unique case). It seems that the shift away from agriculture is caused by mechanization, manifested in a two-fold trend: farm work is made more efficient, lowering the demand for human labor; meanwhile, new technology (naturally, in other forms than merely farming) means the opening of many factories, and the wonderful assembly line. This process effectively pulls people out of the countryside and pops them into urbanity at gargantuan rates. Dreams of upward mobility only foster this mass migration. We can see the effects of the industrial boom in the U.S. directly: in 1870 (when the Industrial Revolution was in full blast, when steam-power manufacturing had recently (1860's) taken precedence over the use of water-powered manufacturing) about half of the U.S. population was employed in agriculture. Clearly, the Industrial Revolution--an era of hyper-mechanization--changed things, wiping out American employment in this sector, ultimately dragging it to the mere 1% that it is today (at least legal employment, wherein lie other implications of modern agriculture--either we get machines, or illegal immigrants (knowingly and exploitatively) to do it all for us). The contrast between the two countries is obvious, each engaged in a very different lifestyle, determined by a rather systematic process: mechanization, urbanization, modernization--"development." (India, of course, is presently developing extremely quickly.) It is the very difference between these two lifestyles--the manifestation of two different types of economies, agricultural and industrial--which interests me so.

Now let's draw a mroe fundamental contrast and look at the bigger picture. My first impression is that, at the “lowest level�--i.e. cheap labor--there is a large degree of oppression, I dare say comparable to slavery. The only difference is that there is--typically--land ownership, and--might we hope--no overt abuse, such as whipping and the like. The hours and conditions, however, fail to shy away from the merciless spectacles of comparison.

As for agriculture, it should be inanely obvious that we need food, most of which comes from farming. On the other hand, it is not so obvious that we need all of the gizmos, gadgets, and luxuries--sex toys and the like--made in the centers of development--factories. Yet regardless of whether or not people like to farm--and I assume the vast majority would tap out--there is less of a need for it due to mechanization. Based purely on economics, then, people would inevitably sell off their farms; alas, it becomes desirable, both by them (deceitful dreams of a better standard of living, something new, upward mobility) and buyers (who doesn't want cheap, fertile land in large quantities?). Hence a conglomeration of small farms becomes a large enterprise, and the trend continues.

These now homeless land-sellers move away from the world to which they had been accustomed for hundreds of years, and like disheveled, traumatized refugees they are booted to an alien land--in our case, the city. They are likely unprepared for the world of Specialization, pocketless in the world of Currency. Unless they are extremely lucky, they will end up in low-paying and exploitative jobs. Now, as with the farmers, we may ask these newbie city-dwellers: Do you like what you are doing? We are likely to receive a resounding “no.� And there is not much they can do about it, either.

But there is one crucial difference in our comparison between these two worlds: these baptized “techies� have taken a step up the ladder of “upward mobility.� While they are likely to live a difficult life of oppression in squalid conditions with rather black lungs--or some other unfortunate, inevitable symptom--there is a benefit: their children may be able to move into the middle class, their grandchildren into the upper-middle class, etc. This pawn sacrifice, in the grand scheme of things, is justifiable here (and perhaps only here), because it allows the other pawns to be promoted; these martyrs have left their promised legacy on this Earth. Naturally, this is why so many Mexican immigrants want to come to the States, despite the uncertainties of the march, the loss of culture, and the tough life: upward mobility, “The American Dream.�

But there are several pitfalls I see regarding this shift into urbanity which I think should be obvious enough. I will just list them in their bare, impoverished parts:

1. The World. The micro level--family--is one thing, but the macro--one and all--is quite another. What to make of the drastically increased pollution, the deterioration (raping) of the Earth, the potential “global warming,� the increase in health problems? (But wait, hear my panacea: Perhaps industrialization will bring about medical care and all of the other sources of technology to fix the problems it has brought about! I admit, a nice try--however, this is a futile, sad, affable, and rather masturbatory (alas, vicariously via the joy-stick) mindset; one cannot in earnest hold such an optimistic viewpoint of technology. You can cure the disease, but you needn’t introduce and test new biochemical weapons in cities just for the hell of it.)

2. The loss of culture. Money-making becomes all-consuming, obliterating all other aspects of life, especially ancient, obsolete, time-consuming ones like culture. Justifications for this phenomenon are rampant. Their validity is up for debate. Nonetheless, many hypocrites would claim culture to be the last thing they “want� to lose. Sadly, though, the power of the subconscious with its animalistic drive to compete, consume, and be accepted are difficult to overcome. This schema is, after all, ingrained in the DNA of today’s “successful society�--the rich--meaning those “down below� will want it even more, even if their society would, under normal circumstances, never consider such madness.

3. The break-up of the family. People indulge in the face of multiple opportunities. Why not live in Paris?--I can come see Mom anytime I want! Wishful thinking, buddy.

4. The lack of morals. The city is an anonymous complex. Clubs, bars, and places of amusement are prevalent--and if you don’t use them, there is, as a matter of fact, something wrong with you, you anti-socialite. You are but an average ant in a big fucking farm--and you thought you could get away after all! Oh, I see, but you are the flamingo standing out, the one with “the revolutionary idea.� Then you, my friend, are its private victim--you let the notion of conformity get to your head, you veritable pussy. And don’t forget: Sex in the City is calling on YOU. Give in. Be beautiful. Be wanted.

5. The lack of a social circle and those nostalgic communal dinners. It is time for that wonderful word, children: “Independence.� Again, money and the success it magically begets come first ... and probably last, too, if you ever get there.

6. Superior forms of warfare. No explanation needed. Lest I forget about you war-hawks. In that case, maybe the other reasons resonate with you--just a bit, Cheney?

7. The loss of connection with (not “to,� like how you talk at people) the Earth. Honey, where does our stuff come from, anyway? Gee, is it right for others to be paid about one-hundredth the price of my slick shirt, in a whole big day? What ever happened to sustainable living, to caring about the Earth? Oh, but you see, in the concrete jungle...well, that is the Earth, that is all that matters anymore.

Most of this is at the center of the “debate� on “globalization� (as if this trend just began last week--quick, catch the latest issue!). Yet I am a realist: ideology is one thing. Economics is quite another, and hard to beat out, no matter how unjust the consequences of its dazzling number-crunching miracles. Private businesses rule the present world order, and the government has quite a difficult time keeping up with them--one-dollar-one-vote is usually preferred, if not in disguise, to one-person-one-vote. And as we know, that means the rich have more power than the poor.

This means trouble when it comes to a developing country like India. First off, it is clear that there is, to some degree, a democracy--maybe 1000-poor-people-one-vote. In India, it is clear that there is one thing for which people would vote--you guessed it, poverty alleviation, a better life. Of course, this might be ideally done by listening to the advice of Mahatma Ghandi: to work at the village level, maybe give some aid, but direct that in a way so that each village receives what it needs--that is, what they choose--so that the help can be real, the break-up of the family and the things I mentioned earlier will not occur, so that it can be done sustainably and to the greatest benefit of all.

Here is the problem: clearly, poverty alleviation will be on the agenda, but it will not be done in a Ghandian way, the way that would actually be in the best interest of the poor, but in capitalist way, one which would favor the rich--under the guise, of course, that they are doing good. What does this mean? Mass development. That magic word--urbanization--which I talked about earlier. And the justification is clear: this is development, this is giving the poor, just like the rich, something tangible: capital. As for the rich, it gives them the labor forces in their centers of development--factories--that they need. And a force that will work for extremely low wages, under horrible conditions, for long hours. Additionally, this urban myht of success for the poor means they will be migrating in hoards--and with no job to be found. And what does that mean? The worst of all: urban poverty. Many end up chopping off limbs--often of their children--to make ends meet. Massive slums arise. It is not what one might call a "solution" to the problem, because it is the "solution" of the rich--the one that gives them the most cash.

When it comes to a "developing country" like India, we have a further problem--the problem of the TRUE Silent Majority. As with any developing nation, Indians who are on the rise--that beautiful thing we call upward mobility--may have just come out of poverty, and thus are faced with a sort of self-consciousness: they feel they need to be successful, at all costs. Why do you think such a large percentage of the Indian population pursues careers with concrete pay, such as business and engineering? (It is an extremely high percentage, from what I gather, yet I do not yet have the exact numbers.) At this point of India's development, either based on their own motivations, or to make money for their families, the societal trend is all money-making. In short, people who are moving up economically are either still struggling to some degree, or are trying to push themselves as far away from the burning bottom of the pyramid as possible. Because of this, fewer Indians are really out to help the poor--at least genuinely--and they may end up only exacerbating the situation by making the city a brutal--sometimes deathly--place to live.

The way things are going, then, there seems to be an almost inexorable trend toward urbanization, where the poor are rather helpless and the cycle only repeats itself, magnifying in accorance with a rising GDP--most of which, of course, lies safely in the hands of the rich.

I do not suggest, however, that we lose faith so easily. As with anything, we simply face the classic battle between the “pros� and the “cons�: upward mobility, with all its little luxuries, sounds all too great in theory; the destruction of the planet and many, if not all, of the things that we stand for, and for which our forebears fought--on the contrary, not so much fun, is it? So how about that happy medium? There is always one of those, right?

Right?

With the dynamite allure and seeming simplicity of economics (manifested today in neoliberal policies, among them the unquestioned theory of capitalism--because, of course, communism didn’t work, so the only alternative is...why, jiminy, its direct opposite!), the raging drive for power, the desperate hope of fleeing a life of stagnation (i.e., opting for upward mobility), and the skyrocketing growth in the human population, I don’t see how the world will note exponentially industrialize, and thus implode--if it doesn’t explode first.

I exxagerate (and maybe I don't), but it might be logical to say that there is a lot at stake. And when it comes to a place like India--or China, its oft-compared older sister (I guess the U.S. still holds the “big brother� title--so if you're an American, you can let out a big "hoorah!" and, if not, hang your head in shame!), that is, until a woman takes oath, or nuclear warfare ensues)--India is industrializing far too hastily, and, well, call me a pessimist, but I don’t know how some major crisis can be averted at this rate (and I by no means single out India). But to go back to agriculture? That doesn’t sound like too fun or feasible an option, either.

I would articulate our present conundrum as such: A dish of various assortments is placed before us. Some of it tastes like over-cooked broccoli--simple but bland, harmless but unexciting, and not overly nourishing; the rest is sweet--almost too sweet, with a bit of an iron and phosphate aftertaste--and, while we might enjoy it in light doses now, it will lead to an uncomfortable later life, and certain premature death. If I were cooking, I would at least yank some (as much as possible, honestly) of the sweets out of the cold, clammy, pudgy hands of the droolers--you know, the singular-minded, power-hungry, image-obsessed, cowardly conformists who are driven by nothing but avenging the laughter ringing in their hollow heads from their lowly high school years, and one day--yes one day, because they are attacking, conquering, demolishing the true root of the problem--overcoming their inferiority complexes. If only they could establish their power symbols!--trophy car, house, wife, position--oh, if only. In order to stop such perpetuated madness, we have to teach them right when they are still young and impressionable: Now now, honey--you can look, but you can’t touch. (Doesn’t that make it all the more desirable? Heaven on Earth is far on the horizon--but we are using microcosmic language, so it may still be within reach...at least for those with serpent tongues. Damn them and their sweet entertainment systems.) Unfortunately for us compassionate Earthlings, a lot has already been cooked--rather poorly, if you ask me, and with far too many slipped rat intestines. To further add to our hellish stew, it is getting cold, maggot-infested, and a bit rotten.

What else are we to do? It’s like telling a world of vegetarians on an Earth with only meat to either eat meat--or, you know, to die. (Sorry to break it to you, but dying still exists nowadays.) And what do you think they would do? Sorry for Earth’s sake, but Reality’s choice is even easier: we ain’t no vegans (well, I am actually an experimenting vegetarian, which is easy to do in India), and will devour that fat pig like it fell fresh from the sky and landed on a silver platter.

So what now, revert to Communism? In Passivism’s mean-time, I will be searching for an alternative, because, Smith, this doesn’t seem to be working either. And you? Oh, right, it doesn’t concern you. Tell Charles to make the bath a bit hotter, and add a few more bubbles, whilst he’s at it. After all, you have the best excuse of all: you don’t care about your legacy. (Besides, we're supposed to be in an ice age now anyway, and are lucky enough to have held it back in the meantime via the comforts of global warming until we can come up with some sort of ingenius biodome to prepare for its inevitable coming--or make one Mars. Earth-schmucks. Piece of cake.) You are living for the moment. It is so in right now, so don’t miss a beat.

And me? I’m just a hypocritical monkey-see-monkey-do hamster trying to run up a gutter. Just maybe, my Dear Dissenter. Or maybe, in realizing--at long last--that our current methods will simply not work--admission is the first step--I have at least begun to change and hence start the true climb toward that thing they call “upward mobility,� ultimately coming to realize that the destination may be quite different from what we expected. And you may have realized that, too. So then let me ask a more pertinent question: How do we get there? Ideology is one thing--complaining is all the more savory. Appetizers are for the French, and I’ve had my share.

Posted by dmbenn at 04:08 AM | Comments (0)

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)

May 26, 2008

first contact = first (big) ring of excitement

PLACE: Rajgurunagar, Maharashtra, India (rural); Pune (industrial, mainly automotive, 40 km from former)

TIMESPAN: June 15 - August 15

LANGUAGE(S): Marathi, Hindi, English (business)

ORGANIZATION: The Bombay Mother's And Children Welfare Society (BMCWS), est. 1919

SCHEDULE: 40 hours/week

PAY: $100/month

POSITION: intern

TASK: mainly corporate-community communication, i.e., spreading the word of the organization, presentations, education

FIRST IMPRESSIONS:

No, this really doesn't have to be this formal--I just figured I'd lay it down and set things straight from the start. The above is, after all, what I will be doing in India.

Here is how it all began.

Earlier in the year, must have been in February, I saw a table in the lobby of Angell Hall at U of M, advertizing for a program called AIESEC--Association Internationale des Étudiants en Sciences Économiques et Commerciales. It claimed to offer international internships, ranging from as little as two months, to as much as one year, which give students the opportunity to gain experience in one of the following areas: education, development, information technology, or business. Development has recently been one of my primary interests, and increasingly more so, to the degree that I may just pursue a career in the area, so I naturally thought obtaining such an internship would make for a great summer experience. So I followed through and got accepted.

I first looked into Africa, but my dad, unfortunately, was a bit displeased with the idea. I'll give it to him, Africa is, generally speaking, one of the less safe areas of the world; while I was, of course, obliged to put up my fair fight, this was one of those circumstances in which he was able to pull out the parental, I'm-still-paying-for-your-college-education, and, what's more, a-good-amount-of-this-trip, ugly, "now son...," red tape. In one of the places I was looking at, he heard about a couple of people getting their heads macheteed off, and I guess he thought it would therefore inevitably happen to me. It took a good forty-minute argument while my girlfriend sat on her bed and watched in boredom, waiting to study; after a good deal of those nasty stomach juices and a fatherly apology the next afternoon (preceded by a motherly pacification of the fatherly, of course), the decision was practically set: my final destination would be in India.

India, under my circumstances, was the perfect choice. For one thing, I had already been there and was comfortable with the climate--in all respects. For another, it offered the same kind of developmental jobs as Africa--provided, as we know, by terrible poverty. And finally (for my dad, most importantly), it was theoretically (i.e., according to the U.S. Dept. of State...) safer than pretty much any African country. That is not to say that I am not happy with India; in fact, I love India, and when I was there last time, I spent the least amount of time in Maharashtra (all of one day), not to mention a rural area--none at all. So this would certainly not be a "been there, done that" sort of thing...far from it, at that. Of the three internships that I applied to in India (and only India--my mind was set), I cannot describe how pleased I am that this organization (BMCWS) got back to me first--it is by far the most interesting choice, certainly my top pick.

My task in this internship is far removed from paper-shuffling, phone-answering, or some typical no-pay-and-be-used-like-a-dog internship--this one, as far as I can see, is a far more interactive job. I just spoke with Dr. Sathe (sah-tay w/ soft t), the honored Secretary of the program of twenty years, and he laid it out as follows: First thing, I get to know the community of Rajgurunagar, and the role of the organization within it. (The org. runs three hospitals in Maharashtra, one of them in Rajgurunagar. The org. also focuses on educational programs: for instance, they have an annual 2-month camp [just about to finish] where young women can learn skills (like computers, languages, writing, agriculture, sewing) which, ideally, they can use in the Pune job market--and, in addition, which they can use to start their own businesses, bolstered by microfinancing, something the organization also provides. The org. also implements programs like growing banana trees in homes (they can each grow up to *eight-hundred* bananas a year, which helps to relieve malnutrition and helps family income by lessening to a significant degree the need for food) as well as distributes deworming pills, which significantly reduces the parastite problem, conveniently cutting down on medical costs for everyone. The organization, therefore, adopts a versatile and, to my knowledge, rather effective development strategy: welfare (immediate relief from poverty, yet in a sustainable, teach-a-man-to-fish as opposed to simply throwing food or new houses at him, which it strictly opposes) combined with education and training--the necessary complements to any welfare program, and the prerequisites--perhaps most important of all--to moving people out of poverty. Their ideology, roughly speaking, is simple and exemplary: use little capital to make great gains. They run on little funds, so they have to be innovative. They are all about efficiency--a tightly knit organization, from what I see. There is one problem, however: the success of their program is not so well known outside of the village [like it or not, among a world run by corporations]. That is where I, to however big or small a degree, come into play.)

So, once I am fully educated on the organization's role in Rajgurunagar, I am to create some sort of presentation...I suppose the first two or so weeks will be devoted to these efforts. Dr. Sathe said that this can be quite fun--I will get to interact with the villagers, with a translator by my side. (I plan to use a computer program to learn as much Marathi as possible in this short two-week span before I leave...why not?) So after I get the gist of what's going on, I prepare my presentation, then go into the industrial center of Pune (the Detroit of India, at least after Bangalore) and see what it's like to communicate with big corporations.

Indeed, it will be an interesting role to play: advocating an Indian village vis-a-vis large corporations. I figured such a task might entail a fragment of my internship, but did not realize that it would define it practically in its entirety (yet it seems that I will also have a say in the development of the program itself, granted I come up with a suggestion or two after i see how it works and all). I could have imagined protesting against corporations, something like that, but, especially after watching the (admittedly, probably slightly propogandistic) documentary, "The Corporation," plus school learning combined with my own resources, could not imagine working with such fine persons as these--I mean corporations. But as I said earlier, to a large degree, this is how the world runs nowadays: transnational corporations carry the bacon, which fuels the world.

No, that does not mean that I will simply accept the "world order" as such, oh no, not without a fight (and this is an understatement!); nor does it mean that I will sardonically say "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer"; nor am I not exaggerating, for I realize that there can be "good" corporations, too (never, lest my notorious [in its own right] one-tracked mind forget, is it ever all or nothing): all I am saying is that I am skeptical--knowing relatively little about the entities save for negative (i.e., bloodthirsty, merciless, depraved, yes, might we say philandering?) things that many have done in the innocent, all too forgotten past (an example among many: privitization of Cochabamba, Bolivia's water supply--wiki: "Cochabamba Protests of 2000") and are engaging in presently--and thus I am interested to see what it will be like to work with them, keeping an open mind (yes, yes...I know what you conservatives are thinking now...well keep thinking, that's good!) so that I may learn more.

If I am able to exercise some influence in the corporate world, and to the benefit of Rajgurunagar (as much as time permits) in the process, I will be satisfied with my work. The idea of the program is that, if proven successful, it will serve as a model to be implemented by other rural communities--a keystone project. The initiative sounds fascinating, and I exuberantly look forward to learning more; documents to be enclosed by Dr. Sathe are on their way. Experiencing the program, and village, in person, and getting to know some people there, in a way that would be far from possible via some touristic venture, should prove invaluable, and I cannot describe how appreciative I am to take part.

Feel free to check out their site:

http://www.bmcws.com/history.asp

"The Bombay Mothers & Children Welfare Society is a Public Charitable Trust Registered under Registration No. 1500 of 1946-47 & Public Trust Reg. No. F-137 (Bom), Pan No. AAATT4743P, Tax Exemption No.DIT (E) MC/80-G/1485/2004/204-05, Foreign Contribution Reg. No. 083780521.

Established in 1919. We introduce our Trust as one of the oldest Institution, which has been working in the field of Women & Child Health Care from last 87 years through its four Hospitals and five Day Care Centres.

This Trust, with its present name was formed 58 years ago with amalgamation of Bombay Presidency Infant Welfare Society, Bomby Mofussil Maternity Child Welfare & Health Council & The Bombay Presidency Baby and Health Week Association.

Lady Cawasji Jehangir, Sir B. Rama Rau, Shri. Purshotamdas Harkisondas, Esq. Mr. K.S. Sethna, Dr. K.S. Mhaskar, Dr. H.V. Tilak were some of the founder members of this Trust, since from last eighty years our Trust carries its work among the poor and needy in workers colonies of the City of Mumbai and in the Rural Areas of Maharashtra.

As our Institution is carrying on its activities in the labour areas of Mumbai City and in the rural parts of Maharashtra (Rajgurunagar & Bhilwadi) he charges of our Hospitals are nominal and therefore income is also negligible. Since our charges are just and nominal, we have always to depend on the financial assistance from Charitable Trusts and philanthropists. Our Trust runs 4 Day Care Centers.

Ours is a Welfare Trust engaged for the last 86 years in providing Women Care and Child development to the weaker sections of the Society. For this purpose we are maintaining 16 Centers of which 3 are Hospitals and out of these hospitals 2 are in Rural Parts of Maharashtra. Our Trust has now decided to set up an advanced Rural Development Programme at Rajgurunagar Hospital which is a rural area of Pune, Maharashtra.

We received donations from many Private Trust & Public Charitable Trusts like Shahani Trust, Dorabji Tata Trust, Mahalaxmi Temple Trust, and Shree Siddhivinayak Mandir Trust. Total amount of Donations received up till now is beyond 1.5 Crore approximately.

Donations are accepted for new projects only and are project specific. No donations are received or accepted for day-to-day activities of Trust."

Posted by dmbenn at 06:29 AM | Comments (0)