Very long and tiring day today. Woke up early and ate a breakfast of chapatti, curry and black tea and read the paper. Had a shower and spent some time in the kitchen talking to some of the students. I asked where I could use the internet and was informed that one of the Aunties lived nearby and was abruptly taken to her bright orange painted house, with a cute porch and very lush looking garden. I had already been made aware that her husband was sick and was feeling quite rude to be there at all. Relna said it was okay and Auntie (or Amma ‘Mother’, as she insists I call her) reassured me that I can go there any time to use the internet. She introduced me to her husband, Mustafah. It transpired that he had been suffering with throat cancer for the past year and had spent time in hospital, during which time the radiation had made him deaf in one ear and almost deaf in the other. He was a frail looking man, but spoke with excellent English, encouraging me to visit their house often. He was obviously educated, with an impressive array of books in their living room and quite a nice looking guitar. Apparently, before his throat affected his speech, he was quite the singer too.
Auntie showed me around their brightly colored house, which was really nice. I’m not really sure what I was expected of the houses in Kerala, I suppose I expected them to be less ‘modern’ than British ones and caked in dust and grubbiness. Her house, however, was lovely. After I used the internet, Auntie presented me with a plate of adda, a kind of cake prepared with rice flour, sugar and coconut inside. The outside tasted soft, with coconut shavings stuffed into the middle. There was an entire plateful on banana leaves and still not being sure of the etiquette (and purity/pollution regarding touched food) I was not sure whether to eat all of them, or whether any I left would be regarded as polluted and thus thrown away. Or indeed whether I would be considered greedy if I ate all of them. A rather difficult predicament. Seeing as through Auntie knew I had recently eaten breakfast, and trying to reason with myself that there was an entire plateful and furthermore, since Dalits and Adivasais were living and eating together, I figured that the purity/pollution dichotomy was irrelevant. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to mind when I ate two and said she would finish them later.
On the walk back to the hostel (a very short walk, since it was around the corner) she asked whether I was a Christian. I’m learning to say yes, because it causes too much hassle with people giving me pitying looks when I say I do not believe in God (or, am not sure whether God exists…). I enquired about her religion and she informed me she was a Muslim, so I needn’t have worried about any Hindu rules relating to food consumption.
I spent some time reading, waiting for Vinod to collect me. Auntie’s daughter, Wafa, came to visit me. During our conversation she revealed she was 14, which shocked me, as I could have quite happily believed her to be a postgraduate here at the hostel. Her English was very good and she was very self-aware and smart, much more so than I had been at 14. She mentioned that her twin was her opposite in many ways- shy, quiet and reliant on her.
Vinod arrived after lunch (chapatti and curry) with the other project coordinator, Nirmal. We were driven to older Calicut city to collect some uniforms and then taken to a youth hostel where CREST was conducting an 18-day course for students who had just finished school and were soon to be starting at various Engineering colleges around Kerala. All were Scheduled Castes/Tribes. Nirmal introduced me to all 42 of them, and I was then stared at like a zoo exhibit. A couple of the more outgoing ones stepped forward to ask me questions and I in turn asked them questions about whether the course had helped them, where they would study, what they would be studying and whether they were excited. One boy in particular, I could tell, would be a particular handful at college. “Excuse me, but I want to tell you I think you have beautiful eyes.” The little charmer. He would be studying Mechanical Engineering. Strange really, since all the Engineers I know from the UK are useless with women and not charming at all.
I was then introduced to CREST’s other Vinod, a youngish looking man in charge of communication skills. I listened in on his workshop, which seemed to be a very inspirational speech designed to drive home the need for the students to retain clarity, work together, not lose confidence and to continually be asking “why?” when faced with any obstacle (academic or social). I was quite inspired actually. After this, I returned to the staff area and introduced to the English Literature/Language teacher, Anita, who was watching a British film whose name eludes me.
Vinod and Nirmal seem to be quite the comedy duo and delighted in telling me about when Vinod and his millionaire Delhi-based friend travelled to South Kerala to see Amma (a holy woman) who provides the unorthodox method of giving out hugs as ‘healing’. Apparently Vinod and his friend were travelling very cheaply about 20 years ago as backpackers and waited diligently in line for their ‘hugs’. One of Amma’s English assistants told Vinod to ‘get on the knees’ for Amma at which point Vinod, mishearing, sat on Ammas lap, instead of in the correct prostrating position. At this point the crowd was in uproar at his supposed cheek and her throng of immediate assistants tried to pull him off, at which point, for balance, he threw his arms around Amma’s neck, effectively hugging her- causing the crowd to get even angrier. He then made a quick escape with his friend. He really is quite a character.
The staff here (that I have met so far) are really very smart and well humored. There was a discussion on pov-tourism, the new phenomenon where tourists come to India to witness the poverty, whether to be taken around slums, photograph deprived people or just ogle at those marginalized from society.
Vinod mentioned the political element, where people come to Kerala to experience the Communist (Marxist) party that is in power here. He joked that he could sell flags abroad for money.
It was decided that I needed to go shopping. Not by me, of course, but by Nirmal and Vinod. Anita, the English lecturer was given the duty of taking me to a rather lavish shopping centre to get clothes more ‘suitable’ as we would be going to teach in a rather prestigious Engineering institution (Asia’s best, apparently) in Delhi and as there is to be a strike tomorrow, it was decided we go there and then.
I was shocked to be taken to a very British shopping centre, complete with underground parking, escalators and all manner of shops. Anita took me to the place she does most of her shopping (aside from the exorbitantly priced FabIndia which I briefly visited with Nirmal and Vinod earlier in the day to collect part of the uniforms). This particular shop seemed to be playing on the idea of ‘ethnic’ clothes, with tunic tops worn over either leggings or jeans. I picked out a few salwar-kameez type tops with some Indian style bottoms to try. It was the weirdest experience, asking fashion advice from quite a prestigious lecturer.
We then returned to the hostel where the course was being held and continued watching the film. The younger Vinod has apparently just married and had to leave, due to his very “demanding” wife, which the rest of the faculty found hilarious. Nirmal wanted Anita and I to go up to the roof to experience his confidence-building workshop. The kids were stood around in a circle and when he threw a ball at one, they had to get into ‘character’ in front of everyone and then choose someone else to get into character with them. The result was hilarious. A tallish boy pretended to be a beggar, and then chose someone else who was an old woman, and then there was a wedding, Punjabi dancing, until everyone on the roof was effectively acting or dancing- including Anita and I.
Then the students had a run through of their presentation for tomorrow, which consisted of a 45 minute play that ran cohesively together, chronicling either a sad or inspirational occurrence personal to them. It was pretty hard not to cry in parts, due to the nature of what was being expressed and the anguish with which they expressed themselves. There were arranged (unwanted) marriages, a girl who had run away from home, a stabbing, and society’s indifference to tragedy, drug addiction, disability and child labour. At the end of the performance, Anita and I were asked to comment/critique their performance which we did. I was very impressed. Apparently the intensive course has really made a difference to their confidence and many of them now feel much more able to assert themselves when they begin college. I’m quite excited to see their graduation from the course tomorrow, including their depictions of these 42 personal stories and how much therapeutic value this method has effectively had.
I returned to the hostel at about 9ish, where Relna informed me their shopping had not been very successful but did say that they had been for dosa and said that next time I really must accompany them, which was kind. I managed to remember the Malayalam from the night before ‘Neranyo’ (I’m full- essential vocab when faced with never ending offers of South Indian cusine), ‘Nanee’ (Thanks), ‘Shuberatri’ (Goodnight- almost the same as in Nepali). At the airport I purchased a phrasebook, which I’m going to try and spend some time learning more of, but it seems a very difficult, topsy turvey even, language to follow).
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