So, I am writing now after a day and a half of experiencing Bhuj, hoping that putting at least some words, however vague, to my thoughts will provide some clarity. Currently, I am in the flat of another fellow, while I continue to get my own flat into a livable state.
My home is just around the corner from hers, in a small neighborhood of densely packed stout and concrete homes. Each building is painted a bright color, yellow, blue, orange, lime green – though the colors have mostly resigned themselves to the strength of the sun, which wears on them – fading even the most spectacular of colors. Each flat looks out into the street, and everyone keeps their windows open at night – so after 7pm, the narrow street causes you to feel as if you were walking through a market, each home a stall selling a bedroom, a kitchen, or even a bathroom where a man is loudly singing as he bathes himself. From the bedroom window now, in fact, I see a woman in the blue house across the street. She is cooking in the kitchen, but it looks as though may just be floating around in a bright blue box. It’s a neighborhood unlike any other I’ve experienced before, and even feels a bit Disney-ish – with an additional number of stray dogs and the occasional small calf in the middle of the street.
My flat is coming along. It is right the flat of two other male fellows, which makes me feel more like I am living in a college dormitory…a Disney dormitory? I moved in and there was no furniture, stove, or fridge. So, I felt a bit overwhelmed – I’d never moved into an unfurnished apartment in the States, let alone India! Fortunately, I had a lot of support from my new NGO and a kind man named Harishbhai who continually said it was his duty to help me set up my apartment, as I was his guest. So sweet.
this is my front door, in between my towel and shirt that I hand-washed.
It is now day one and a half and I am proud to say that I’ve had a bed, a dresser and table delivered, a mattress custom made by a tailor, a fridge on the way, and some kind of illegal arrangement set up in order to procure a gas cylinder for my stove. (apparently there is a shortage of petroleum gasses here and only Indians are able to buy the cylinders) Tomorrow I will buy kitchen and cleaning supplies and if all goes well, Friday I will buy some curtains to close myself off a bit from the twelve year old boy across the street.
Bhuj is certainly more of a city than I had anticipated and is essentially in a desert area – quite different from the lush jungles of Dharampur. It is a small city, however, and I am trying to make note of its charms and character. On the list are: the vegetable market and the bright yellow bananas – which look perfectly ripened, the ice cream shop, the textile shops selling sparkling garments for the holiday, and the street life – which I am trying my best to implant myself in. I say hello and “namaskar” to people as they walk past, introducing myself to the neighbors, particularly those with large homes and swinging porch benches.
But what is probably most notable about this city is its vast network of NGOs that have been very successfully operating in the surrounding rural areas. I will be working with the network here, hopefully in the small village communities it has organized. It’s a big change, one that I was not and could not really be prepared for, but I am hoping that as my mom said, this was meant to happen and will lead to experiences that are unexpectedly great.
The NGO I will now be working with is located in a large white building. The sun shines through the open-air halls and illuminates the whole building, so when you step outside, it feels like you are being washed in sunlight. I enjoy this very much – as my home is located on the ground floor, under thick overhanging cement, giving the sense that you are in a basement. I may even begin going to work early. There are lots of plants all around the halls – and I appreciate the greenery very much. The plants grow tall against the white walls and its very simple, but beautiful.
plants growing along the office wall
Nearly everyone in my office here speaks English, though they speak with each other in Gujarati. So, it’s a strange middle ground – not being entirely immersed in Gujarati, but still feeling somewhat excluded by the language barrier. In any case, I use my Gujarati as often as possible, even when it is redundant or silly to be using it. Someone will say in English, “yes, I have one son.” And I will repeat “one son” in Gujarati, just to practice really, but more often because I love the reaction…”You speak Gujarati very well!” … this is not true. But feeling commended for my efforts is lovely. In my previous organization, people were a bit more comparative of my very basic linguistic abilities with that of the previous fellow who, by the end of her term spoke “fluent Gujarati!”
The NGO has a very interesting model for rural development that I will hopefully become involved with during my time here. Essentially, they help to bridge the gap between communities and the resources that are accessible to them – through the government or through different NGOs that provide grants, or training, primary schools, or microcredit. They help a number of villages come together to set up these local enclaves of community based development. They build some infrastructure, like a small office, and then train people to work out of that office and in the field. They are experimenting with many different technologies, too and just started doing tele-conferences, so that many people can gather in the office and they can be a part of a lecture on rural healthcare, or training primary school teachers, etc. It all sounds very cool and I am looking forward to actually visiting some of these communities and learning more about what my role will be...will keep you posted.
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