the ngo campus
Today I am writing an ode to Dharampur because it is a place I am likely leaving either this evening or tomorrow. It’s a difficult thing to try to process and understand…just when I began settling in, growing roots, establishing relationships and routines, I am leaving.
I approached each day as one of many, one small drop in a bucket that would fill over a period of ten months. Now, each day I have spent here has become a large portion of my entire time here and part of me wishes I could have had this perspective while I was living it.
So, in order to process, understand, and more or less leave behind my experience here, I have decided to write some notes to commemorate all that has fed my soul as I’ve grown into this life here. This is an incredibly special place and I wish I were able to stay.
There is so much about my NGO, about this small section of the world, about the people here, about village life that suits me very well – despite the challenges presented by adjusting to such a different life. I hope here I can try to record in some way, the details of this place and the effect it has had on me in the last twelve days or so.
Women:
I will start with the women, as they are the ones who feed me and essentially keep me alive here. At my NGO there is a whole team of women who cook and clean, and most importantly – make chai. They have this exciting dynamic among them – always chatting away, singing songs, peeling potatoes, laughing with each other and many times I enjoy just sitting and listening to them. While at first I had trouble understanding what they were saying, I soon realized most conversations were about food, water, what I would be eating and when, how much food I was eating, and how frequently I was bathing.
Much of my time is passed in the NGO kitchen, as eating is often really the only structured event in my day. I often look forward to meals, not really because I am hungry, but because I am expected to eat…and with diligence. While I still have not had any work projects assigned to me, my eating schedule is taken with the upmost seriousness. My only duty here, thus far, is getting to the kitchen on time, taking my seat on the floor, and eating with passion, using my right hand to shovel food into my mouth and leaving no single grain of rice left on my plate.
Kanchenben cuts kerela, a local vegetable growing in this area
What I have found difficult, however, is that there are very few women who have leadership positions within the organization. The director of the organization is a woman, a very powerful woman, at that. However, she has actually been away, raising money in the US, during my stay here.
There is one other woman who I have come to love, Madhuben, who directs women’s self-help groups that are set up in the surrounding villages. She is not always living on the campus, but when she is, I find myself so comforted by her presence. She has also taken on a sort of motherly role for me, and works out all the little details that have been forgotten about – like helping me to acquire a laundry bucket and soap, and making sure I have enough filtered water to last a few days.
While I was away visiting a village for a few days (I will write more about this later), she washed an outfit for me, so I would have something clean to wear when I returned. I was really touched. Then, this morning she gave me what she called a “training session” in how to wash my clothes the right way (a very difficult, physically taxing job if you’re new to it).
Already, I know she is an incredible woman and I feel like I have so much to learn from her. I wish I could have more time with her in particular, and will be very sad to say goodbye. She is married to a very kind man who also works here on the campus. The two of them make a great couple and remind me a bit of my great-grandparents. They live very simply – and believe in maintaining the tribal (Adivasi) way of life, and belief system. They live very presently and enjoying swinging late at night, after dinner, letting long silences pass between statements in their conversations. They both wear only khadi, Gandhian cotton, which is homespun and have a small organic farm in their village, where they invited me to come stay for a night.
One quiet evening, Bophendrabhai tells me he believes in an Gandhian-Marxist approach to philosophy and believes God is nature, and is all around us. I exhale deeply, and think about all the plants, trees and flowers growing around me, and I am happy.
The Staff:
The last week or so has been paramount in getting to know the staff of my NGO. Everyone here seems quite clearly focused on being a part of some kind of transformation – whether it is in village health care, or education – everyone approaches his/her work with passion. The work week, for many staff members, is often broken up by visits to schools – where they will teach an afternoon session, encouraging children to really engage with science, or mathematics through games.
Work here often feels slow and inefficient, and most of the time, people move freely between each other’s offices, starting conversations when others are in the middle of work. They distract each other and laugh, they help each other, even when the help is unsolicited. My impression is really just from observing, not from participating, since as I mentioned previously, I have not been assigned any work thus far. But I like this work culture – it is mixed with friendship and socializing, so by the end of the day, one not only feels he/she has worked, but also enjoyed oneself.
At the end of the day, everyone becomes giggly and almost entirely distracted. You can feel it’s the end of the day and people are ready to go home. Sometimes it rains in the afternoons and this only exacerbates the fun that people have. They run around as if they are children, playing – trying on each other’s raincoats and shouting after one another.
There are many other staff members who I will remember fondly – Rakshaben and Poojaben, the pre-school teachers are loud and animated. They finish teaching around noon, and seem to spend the next six hours just hanging out, laughing with each other, smacking each other on the back firmly and loudly. They try to teach me Gujarati words and then burst into laughter at my mispronunciation. Last week, they asked me if I used oil in my hair and upon hearing that I didn’t, Rakshaben made a disgusted face and said, “Dirty! Dirty!” She offered to take me for a haircut, and I eagerly accepted – though this activity has been put on hold for the moment. At the time, I settled for a pony-tail, and Poojaben combed my hair and put it properly into an Indian style.
Comings and Goings:
At my NGO, there are always people coming and going, as it is a training center for both health workers and teachers, as well as a dispensary for those who live in nearby villages and need to see a doctor. Since I am without a project, or any real work to do other than my own personal writing, I often sit and just observe those who come and go.
A few days after my arrival, the Dais came – they are traditional birth attendants in the villages and look after all the pregnant women. The Dais have all delivered many babies, though they have very little education and often have no idea what a woman’s anatomy is. They come to this NGO for training, to begin to understand what is really happening when a woman is pregnant so that they are better equipped to handle high-risk or emergency situations. Traditionally, Dais are at least 45, and because they are a part of a much older generation, many of them have never been to school. Thus, none of them read of write, but – they can deliver babies. Somehow, this is really amazing to me.
They, too are loud and giggly and arrive like a colorful storm in their saris, which are wrapped between their legs to make pants, as to allow for more movement and activity. Their faces are wrinkled and thin, their feet strong and tough, and their posture typically very straight. To me they look like warriors.
More to come here..
beautiful scenery around the campus
Dharampur Market
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