Those of you who were pre-selected to the category, “can handle tough news,” may know that I’ve been sick in India for the past week and a half or so. Those of you who weren’t pre-selected members of this group, please know that the following health information was withheld only to protect your gentle hearts. Almost fully recovered, I have finally checked out of the hospital and have returned to the streets of India. And now, as the symptoms subside, I find myself ready to record the journey, to expose many of you to the misfortunes of Indian illness as well as the peril caused by the aedes mosquito.
I fell ill at a rather inopportune time. It was during the very beginning of a holiday celebrating the Indian god Ganes (He is the one with the elephant’s head). Here in India, holidays are celebrated very publicly – with parades in the street accompanied by marching bands, floats, and dancing men. Often there are several parades occurring at once, and in their vigor, they attempt to outdo one another. It is a competition of who can last the longest, sing the loudest, gather the most people, decorate lavishly, and generally cause the most ruckus. So, as I was laying in bed, feverish, aching and nauseated, I was kept awake all night by the parades taking place only a few feet away from my door. Suddenly, the music would stop, I would breathe a sigh of relief, close my eyes and try to sleep…and minutes later it would start up again, beginning with a cannon blast. The parades were occurring on either side of the ashram and it literally sounded as if there was a war taking place, the eastern edge of the ashram vs. the western edge, with all these Americans right in the middle. The festivities continued on for days, while I was in the hospital, all the way through the length of my illness and ended only a few days ago with my arrival to Dharampur.
Fortunately (or unfortunately?) I spent the rest of the holiday in a hospital, where it was quiet in the “Platinum Wing” of the inpatient care unit, and where, due to my ability to pay top Indian rupee, I received the highest standard of care. Nurses bustled through my room day and night, checking my IV, my temperature, my blood pressure – and performing all sorts of rituals in order to restore me to health. Once a day, (my favorite part of the day) I was given a bucket shower by a sweet nurse, who sat me down on the lid of the toilet and bathed me in warm water – washing my hair, and lathering soap on my arms and legs. I was fed “continental” dishes, which was delivered faithfully three times a day in a series of tin-foil-covered bowls and I would play a game, guessing what type of food was hiding in each bowl – delighted when I finally found…”pasta!” and even more so by the chocolate pudding.
The Transition
I spent 4 days in the hospital, under the care of an excellent doctor who came to check on me twice a day. Once I had been fully rehydrated, my blood pressure, white blood cell count and platelette count had risen to normal levels, I was released and returned back to the program orientation. There, I immediately met my NGO counterpart, was introduced to the work I would be doing for the next ten months and in a whirl of excitement, nervousness, and goodbye’s to the other fellows – left for the overnight train to Valsad. 2 days after being released from the hospital, I found myself here in Dharampur, on the campus of my NGO, diving straight into my new life. I was introduced to all the people I would be working with, many of whom speak only Gujarati and re-started a diet of only Indian food…If this all seems quite sudden, do know that it was. I’ve been adjusting quickly though and have barely had to time to even process the fact that it has been a challenging week or so – full of transitions, and emotional highs and lows.
But now, I find myself in an Indian paradise. I wake up the morning (under a very strong fan, which is a blessing in my life) to the calls of peacocks outside of my window, walk underneath the mango and papaya trees to the office of my NGO where these incredibly kind and gentle people greet me and wish me a good morning.
My days so far have been rather slow-paced, as things tend to be in rural areas. I have not started work yet and will not begin for another few weeks, as I am waiting for the return of the director (who has gone to the US). It has been my task simply to observe – to learn the pattern of the office, to learn more about the work of my NGO, and to integrate, and adjust. And while some days, I feel a bit restless sitting around and slowing my pace – I feel I am overflowing with things to think about and write about. I am living a life now that is entirely unfamiliar.
Each second is a new experience and there is almost nothing here that resembles life at home. I am a complete stranger, and like my father has said, it is like I am being born again. I am like a small child who does not understand what adults are talking about – I am always asking questions, always finding pleasure in the smallest of things, and seeing things with completely fresh eyes. It is thrilling, it is scary, it is invigorating, it is sometimes isolating, but it is never lonely – as I thought it might be.
I am always with people, and although I do not always know what they are saying, nor can I express my confused thoughts and feelings, I am with others almost all of the time. And to just experience being close with people who are so different from myself, from anyone I know, is quite lovely. To form friendships with people from a different country, from a different language, from a different age group, with an entire history that is different from my own … is amazing. And when I think about the fact that my closest companion is a 43 year old Indian man who says things like, “but Katie…you have not combed your hair today”..I just laugh out-loud. But surprisingly, with him I have had these conversations that have become so meaningful to me, and with him I watch ridiculous Indian TV shows and practice yoga in the morning to the calls of the peacocks, and search for “aadoo” (ginger) late at night in the market, and it is so simple.
Sometimes it becomes so complicated in my mind– there are all these feelings I am experiencing, wondering how I will become a part of this community or what kind of work I will produce that will make me useful here, or what I represent to the people I meet here, or what my motivations are for being here and how they are changing… and it goes on and on but at the end of the day, it is simple. I laugh at myself, I eat the food that is cooked for me, I go on walks with whomever is heading into town, I drink tea, I point to things and ask “aa shu che?” (what is this?) I swing on the benches with the traditional birth attendants who’ve come here for training, I wash my clothes in a bucket at night and wake up the next morning and do it all again. I just seem to put one foot in front of the other and continue doing it until it becomes a routine, until it becomes a new life, and that is how I will adjust, that is how I learn, that is how I will live here for ten months, it is no big matter – it just is. Aa chee.
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