Rural orientation and getting started at RUHSA… September 29, 2008

An update coming sooner than I would have guessed…

My research project… seems to be crawling at the Indian pace, you get it done when you get it done. No rush, no hurry. Only, I am rushed and hurried. I’m watching my five weeks here quickly turn into four weeks and I have yet to get access to the main hospital in Vellore and my advisor went on holiday today for four days.

This aside, I love it here. My room looks like a little cottage with pastel purple walls and a light yellow door and curtains. It has two windows, a good fan, a western bathroom (even complete with a stand-up shower) and the mattress on my bed is nearly four inches thick. The temperature drops to 82 degrees some nights and I have to grab a blanket to keep warm. The hospital campus is filled with trees and patchy grass, but extraordinarily clean compared to everywhere else I’ve been. Trash bins are even provided. Crazy thought, I know. The staff is easy-going (maybe a little too easy going to actually be productive in regards to my research) and friendly. And I can buy large, ripe guavas right outside the gate. Other than the train tracks right outside my window (sometimes I feel like I might as well be hanging on to a jet engine it gets so loud) and the birds chattering at sunset it’s very peaceful and refreshing.

Last week we completed rural orientation. The first day we got there and hopped on what I called the party bus (a 15 seater probably made in the 70’s with an olive green and orange exterior with deep purple tinted windows decorated with butterfly stickers and a young driver who obviously had his own agenda and blared Indian rap music as we flew down the road) to travel to a rice patty. I was amazed at the workers whos skin looked like it had been leathered long ago. Then men working in one area had on nothing more than a loin cloth and the women working elsewhere were, of course, in saris. We took a shot at rice cultivation but first pulled up too much dirt with the roots (how else do you do it?) and then spooked the ox pulling the man powered plow. Don’t worry, this wasn’t me, I grew up with enough horses (and one cow) to know the tricks of being around large animals. But it was fun, and the mud fields felt like mud volleyball pits on the 4th of July.

During the week we saw so much of how the people in rural India spend their days. A high daily salary for them is 80 Rs (not more than $2 dollars) but most make somewhere around 40-50 Rs ($1.25). It’s amazing to witness someone who lives like this, with no ability to grow and prosper. The American Dream is absolutely a foreign concept for people who still live and follow the caste system which is illegal but still very much present in most of the country.

We did so many things: the rice patties, watched women at leather crafting, went to a completely man powered brick making factory (except for the women who were responsible for carrying the huge stacks of bricks on their heads to move them around), went to a private school, and then comparatively to a government school, went to an agricultural research center, gave a shot at practical pottery making (the traditional way), met with a women’s group in one of the villages, had a discussion with a village administrator (who reeked of too much alcohol, cigarettes, and easy money). The list goes on.

The cutest little girl gave me a ride on her dad’s dirt bike. I have a feeling that she’d only driven the thing a couple times… I had to convince myself to just go with it, even though I thought we were going to crash and I was going to get major road burn.

I was, however, ready to leave at the end of the week. Never before had I been treated as such an incapable human being (possibly how all the women are treated by men here?). Us, being women, were not addressed in the same way our guys were, weren’t able to do the same things the guys were, and were not respected more than a child. This didn’t sit well with me. At that point, I was so frustrated and felt trapped and ready to go home to America. A hike to a waterfall helped me to let out some anger (yes I seriously felt angry towards these men) and I just had to keep in mind that I’d be out of there soon.

So now, here I am near Vellore (find Chennai on the map and then a little farther directly west) and I’ve broken away from the large group (and one of my best friends, Rebecca Rand). Yesterday we went hiking up Elephant Hill (the hill looks like an elephant’s back but don’t all hills?) and I’ve already got to meet up with three others at another site twice. Not knowing that the main road was 10k from where we were turned out to be a learning experience that India gets VERY dark when the sun goes down and the animals get hungrier and people in rural areas are creeped out by three white women walking down the road… lesson learned. Someone was watching out for us because a rickshaw just happened to be bumbling along on that dark and lonesome road…

To wrap things up, I feel a little disconnected from the outside world. If anyone thought St. Olaf was a little bubble, come to India. My only outreach is short internet sessions, a daily newspaper (with a bias opinion of the spiraling U.S. economy), and brief conversations with Tate and my parents. But it’s a good change from the rush of summer and I’m enjoying it alot more than you’d think.

Hope all is well around the world! Miss you all!

Address, finally! September 27, 2008

First off, I’ll apologize for my lack of attention to my blog. I’m now safely at RUHSA, done with rural orientation, and hopefully getting started on my first research project soon. The campus here feels more like summer camp than crazy India… Our cafeteria is referred to as the “canteen” which adds a nice boy scout camp appeal (although the food, complete with white carbohydrates might leave me malnurished if I don’t find a fruit hut soon.)

The campus has one computer with Internet, go figure, for a whole student body of nursing students. My time sitting in this chair is like gold.

Very soon I hope to find a reliable internet source in Vellore that I can go to weekly to blog to keep everyone informed. I can’t wait to share my experiences from rural orientation! I did get a cell phone because I realized how valuable it would be to have a contact with the world. But as India goes, it stopped working two days ago and I’ll have to find a place to see what they can do. If you call and get the message that my phone is turned off… just know the problem hasn’t been fixed!

My number is 91-984-087-6256.

Also, my address for the next few weeks is:
Chelsea Koloski
St. Olaf College
c/o Dr. K.R. John, Porfessor of Community Health, Director 
RUHSA Department of CMC
RUHSA Campus P.O. 632 209
Vellore District
Tamil Nadu
INDIA

This is my crazy life. September 16, 2008

I’ve already been here almost three weeks. I’m falling into routine and finding myself more comfortable here every day. Between how much I’ve explored and the many lectures about Indian society, (everything from health care to poverty to the economy to gender issues) I’ve decided that my experience in India is going to be very, very good for me.

 

I’m sitting at the Central Train Station here in Chennai. This internet place is a huge step up from my hole-in-the-wall by ICSA but unfortunately doesn’t haveSkype… so as India goes, you give a little, and you take a little. Today was also my first experience taking the public bus. (Dad and Kris, you’d laugh if you saw the stock-car like tin that the buses here are made of.) And will probably be my last. I’m getting to be quite the rickshaw junkie. We travel everywhere in those things!

 

I’m also getting used to the heat, believe it or not. Of course, I still sleep with a cold rag on my forehead at night but my skin is sun kissed and I’ve realized it’s only normal to sweat every hour of every day (and even more when I eat spicy food). As another attempt to blend in with the locals Rebecca and I got our noses pierced. You might think I’m crazy, but let me convince you… I’d be crazy not to have one here. Every woman on the street has one, sometimes two and they always put those god-awful huge gold medallion-looking-things in them. Rest assured I settled for a little blue stone. And it matches my eyes, and looks lovely. (And the piercing place was very clean, and it’s been almost two weeks with no sign of infection.)

 

And I’ve had some very cultural experiences… such as visiting the slums, meeting with the Islamic Community on 9/11, having a article written about me (and two of my guy friends) in the best selling newspaper in Chennai, making friends with a ninety-some year old man, and finding that I really do have a sympathetic heart at one of the Indian hospitals.

 

Our slum visit was one-hundred percent opposite of what I was expecting. Instead of being greeted with horrible smells and terrible sites, we were greeted with flowers and dancing. The people in the neighborhood prepared more than you could ever imagine for our visit. Children danced for over thirty minutes, we had a question answering session with the women of the slum, and played and took pictures with the children (for those of you that have facebook, my profile picture is from here). Indians have such a rich sense of community and it was so much fun to be a part of.

 

As far as us meeting the Islamic community on 9/11, that was weird… but only a strange coincidence. Our schedulers didn’t even think twice when they penciled us in. No worries, it was a wonderful experience. It cleared up so many of my personal stereotypes and doubts about the religion (and its extremists). I can only shake my head that I walked away with a “gift” of a copy of the Quran, and think… what a strange life I lead.

 

About a week ago two of my guy friends, Ian and Matt, and I went to a field hockey game just as something to do for the night. I didn’t think we would attract more attention than even the professional players on the field… I sometimes forget that I’m foreign, and white, and a girl (although it doesn’t take me long to remember). A reporter approached us as we sat down just for a moment but let us enjoy the game and then approached us again afterward for an interview. The whole series of events at the game cracked me up and I laughed that instead of serving ice cold beer, they serve steaming hot chai tea, and instead of popcorn and candy, it’s rather a weird corn curry dish. So we answered a few questions after the game and the journalist gave us his card and said he had a story brewing. We were completely surprised when we opened the Deccan Chronicle (one of the most popular newspapers in India) the next day to see an article completely devoted to the three of us… and you’d laugh when you saw our three individual pictures… and laugh even harder when I told you that we didn’t pose for the headshots, or even know then were being taken because they’re absolutely perfect. Tricky. One guy on the street even recognized me from the article. Oh India. We went back for the finals last Sunday night and watched a great game that ended in triple overtime and a sudden death shootout. Indian field hockey is a lot different than my ice hockey at home! 

 

Let me tell you about Harold. On a visit to Little Sisters of the Poor, I was first drawn to Harold because he was a little old Indian man wearing nearly ½ inch think glasses hunched over writing in English. I thought he’s writing in it, he’s got to know it! So I said hello (and just startled him a little). He jumped up and grabbed a whole stack of index cards out of the front pocket of his shirt and fanned them out (I thought it was some sort of card trick) and told me to take one. So of course, I did and then, as instructed, I read it. He was just this cute little fidgety man and was tickled pink that Kate and I had stopped by to chat. But he ran in his room (not before switching to a different pair of ½ inch think glasses) and brought out pictures, and letters of recognition, and so many other odds and ends from his past. Harold never married. He obviously modeled (I would assume from the black and white photographs of his oiled body), and was quite the carpenter. He had amazing stories and I can’t imagine how obscene his life in India would be now, let alone probably sixty or seventy years ago. We also learned from Mary Louise that he used to write love letters for his friends to their girlfriends, and she laughed when she said that “the girls never knew the difference!” I was only there for a couple hours, but my memory of Harold just might stick with me forever.

 

 And then, my world turned upside-down last Friday. What was simply a visit to a local hospital turned into me gaining so much appreciation for America that tears came both for gratitude and sympathy. It was very hard to see the hospital conditions here, and how the people are treated in comparison to those in any hospital in the U.S. I truly believe that every person in America should see the hardship that people in developing countries face. It’s extraordinary, and will make you cry and wonder how was I lucky enough to be born in the United States of America?

 

 The worn off henna on my feet is a sure sign that I’ve done some walking here. I love the Indian Ocean that I find myself frequently going back to and the rich culture (even though I could use a break from the food) but overall I am doing very well. I miss you all at home, and I’m thinking of you often.

 

 Thursday I’ll leave Chennai for rural orientation… I’m about to step off the edge of the world, once again.

 

I apologize for not having my address with me, I’ll post it soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

All is well in India! September 10, 2008

Hello All, I don’t have much time to post tonight but a longer update will be coming soon. I’m slightly sunburned from playing on the beach and touring seventh century Hindu temples today. All is very well here! Check back soon!

Miss you and love you all!

Oh yeah, and if you’re planning on sending me a letter soon, hold off until I post my next address. I won’t be at ICSA too much longer!

Mosquitos, henna, and yoga. September 6, 2008

In the last few days a few things have changed. I’ve ditched my mosquito net and decided to lather on the local’s mosquito repellent. The bottle has a cheesy smiling family, an active ingredient of N,N-dimethyl benzamide (while I can draw this thanks to my organic chemistry class, I have no idea how it actually works), and smells like baby powder. But it really seems to be working. Thankfully! I thought I was going to suffocate sleeping under a no airflow mosquito net one more night here.

I also got henna on my feet. It’s so intricate and I love everything other than the detailed snails… yes, snails. Three of them, slugging along my feet. The fact that the lady spoke absolutely no English and my cheery demeanor made her think that I loved them… and so I got three. Still, it’s very cool and no special occasion was required other than being with good company in India.

Let me say, though, that my first experience with yoga… was terrible. What? How can yoga not live up to what it should in India? After class on Tuesday a few of us girls took a rickshaw to a place mentioned in Lonely Planet (our own, personal tour guide in book form). We walked through the doors to a beautiful reception desk and a blast of air conditioning. I’ve done quite a bit of yoga in the U.S. and was hoping that my experience here would surpass all. Nope. Only a few steps past the elegant entryway lead us into a hot room with fake wood floors, rickety fans, and open windows to the loud Chennai street.

We started by doing a wrist exercise, up and down, 10 times. Then rotate to the left, 10 times. Rotate to the right, 10 times. And I thought, ‘Okay, I can do this, we’re just warming up. It will get good soon.’ Wrong. It never changed. Variations of our wrists then shoulders then neck and so on, 10 times each for an entire hour.

I only really thought it was ridiculous when we started doing the chicken walk. It was not peaceful nor relaxing (in large part thanks to the loud honking horns and city traffic right outside). And it was even more unpleasant when the power went out for about 10 minutes, which is very common around here but miserable in an already hot room.

On a good note, we’ve found a place that we call “Little America” just a little farther down the block from where we live. It is a little coffee shop with blasting AC and American music. The feeling inside is western and peaceful in sharp contrast to the neighborhood it sits in. One of the guys working asked me what we furiously write about. It’s taboo in Indian culture that we go to a place to sit and journal… or to go any place alone to relax. But it’s a good spot for us, and a relaxing break from the chaos outside.

I apologize for making this post seem so negative. All is well on this end and my experience is teaching me so much. India has made me speed up and slow down all at the same time. Many new things will come soon (including a good yoga place!). Love you all!

GiveLife Chennai Marathon September 1, 2008

If anyone is ever able to fall in love with a place in one day, yesterday was it for me. Saturday night before bed we decided that it would be fun to run the race that billboards all over town were advertising, the Marg GiveLife Chennai Marathon. Deanna, one of my fellow brave travelers decided that she wanted to run the half marathon while four others of us (Myself, Ian, Tony, and Rebecca) decided that with the extreme heat and our lack of acclimation, it would be safer just to run in the 7k.

So, we woke up Sunday morning with just enough time to put on our tennis shoes, and jumped in a rickshaw to take us to the beach. Can I say that four of us crammed into a rickshaw was a spectacle in itself… The roads were closed so we walked easily a couple miles to the start of the race. Each step packed us tighter in the crowd anxious to participate… I had no idea this thing was this big… Again, as apparent celebrities, people were coming up to us and asking us many questions, most just wanted a chance to shake our hands, a man even made me do a victory pose for a photo.

The race began with a great number of balloons released into the hot morning. Did I mention, there were so many people! Rebecca and I ran the whole thing and were probably the only women in the entire 7k to do this. It was still cool to see many girls participating (small compared to the amount of men) most walking in groups with matching salwars and heeled shoes.

Something about the flavored atmosphere, the lively people, and the pride of the race made me fall in love with it. Billboards along the way said things like, “If you run today, a child can concentrate in school.” And, I believe, the children need any help with scholarships and encouragement for school they can get around here. The claim is that it will provide education and health care to 13,000 children. The race ended at a Ghandi statue (as it should in India) along the beach with masses and masses of people. If you get a chance, go online and read a little about the race. In terms of numbers it was bigger than the London, the New York, and the Boston marathons; no doubt the greatest in India.

It was amazing. I was blessed to be a part of such a monumental event for the country of India.