Only in India can walk out of your door to find people praying to shrines on street medians, men getting their beards touched up on the side walks, and a mix of camels, elephants, motor bikes and cars cruising the roads in sprawling cities with no traffic laws. Or if you're in a big city or near a World Heritage Site you might see sun-burnt tourist with smeared bindis on their heads wearing pujabi suits and walking around like their outfit some how makes them blend in better--a swarm of foreigners in traditional wear spotted in a city where more indian women are wearning t-shirts and jeans than Saris.
I have spent the past 2 nights in Jaipur, a capital city in north-western India, that attracts both indian and foreign tourist which leads me to the unlikely explanation that all their suitcases got mixed-up at the airport? Anyway it has been another challenging, exausting, and thought-provoking week. As i become less of a novelty and more of a Patel it has become easier to ask questions of faith, gender, and morals. Thankfully our post-dinner conversations have moved past me naming all 16 members of the family at their request to topics that are both a little more serious and harder to communicate. They we asking about american culture and i was responding in slow english with no articles and incorrect tenses and finally the topic of politics came up.
"Do you like Barack Obama," I asked followed by a unanimous "NOOOOO!"
"Why," I questioned "His ideas?"
"No he is BLACK man." My 22 year old sister said.
I was so taken back by their response. For a country that was advancing its development in the image of the West and specifically the US it was so puzzling that they were so dismissive of our president on the basis of race. "Our Chief Minister-white skin." She said. So in India not only do they "vote their caste, instead of cast their vote" but vote in accordance to skin color. I didn't really know what to say back. I could think of anything that could be communicated in simple english. So i blurted out something that i definitely don't believe that i said because i felt like i had to say something-"But...America, most powerful country in the world yes? Best country? We CHOOSE black man. Doesn't that say something?!!!" And then came the equally angry and proud Indian nationalism speech, "India culture best! India economy best! Indian people many intelligence!" I don't think I've ever defended hambergers and T-shirtd more in my life...
One night after arriving home late from seminar i was greeted my our anxious sisters waiting on the sidewalk waiving the ends of their head scarves in the direction of the temple. It's Thursday that means loooong temple day, i wish i had my period.... I walk to meet them and with angry looks on their faces i notice them making unclear gestures pointing to my head and i realize i don't have my head scarf for this exciting religions experience i am about to endure for the third time... One of my sister moves to walk back home and get one and i said "NO" and pulled the hood of my American Apparel sweatshirt over my head to make a DIY head cover. Some of them laughed, some of them sneered and then dragged me in to the temple and plopped me down indian-style. Then i was given a strand of prayer beads and instructed to recite "Hariom" over and over with each bead that passed through my fingers. As i went through the motions thoughtlessly, tired from a long day and anticipating my chore of mopping the temple floors after the service one of my sisters said something to me that caught my attention, "Say your gods name."
On the flight to India i was surprised to read that one of the Reason for Travel options on the demarcation sheet was "Spiritual Journey." I felt like i was in the Darjeeling Limited for a second, that the idea of traveling to India for some spiritual enlightenment was just something mocked in Hollywood or praised by L.A. fitness instructors turned yoga gurus. I could see how the non-violence, vegetarianism and funny looking gods that are a good decoration on expensive t-shirts that Hinduism praises could be appealing but when the same religious principles perpetuate practices like the caste system and womens oppression, poverty and religious intolerance i just wasnt confident admiring a practice that was overshadowed by so much evil.
So with the spiritual leader rattling off some Hindu scripture under a picture of a naked blue god i decided to do what was the closest thing i knew to praying, and began to say 'thank you'. For my parents and the curry i had eaten for lunch. for my hoodie and for my best friends. For everything i could think of that had led me to that moment sitting in the temple on the floor prayer beads at hand with people i could call my family all around me. and there it was...my moment of spirituality in india.
i wrote all of that so long ago but of course the internet connection wasnt working there so now, a month? later here it is. I am now in South Africa where the cultural difference couldn't be more different but many of the problems are the same. Here in Plettemburg Bay the disparity couldnt be more apparent. but i wont go there yet, while i am still processing india and you all are tired of my misspellings and syntax and blahh.
I DID the highest bungy jump in the world 648 feet! Don't tell my parents...
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Table, Toothpaste and Subsidy
These three words, we were instructed, are English words that have been adopted by people living in Gujarat. The origins of the first two are parts of western culture that have infiltrated Indian Society precisely because most Indian families eat meals on the floor and use a certain tree bark to clean there teeth. But the question of the third can be explained less as a matter of practicality or necessity than one of influence and politics. India, which proudly boast its recent economic achievement, is under a lot pressure to feed its population of over a billion people while many of those people are climbing societal ladders and, with that, acquiring higher standards of living. So I wasn't surprised when i got to my homestay and upon taking a tour of my host fathers farm he showed off his Monsanto Genetically Modified Cotton that was subsidized by the Indian Government. We walked a little further on to the vast tabacco monoculture and he pulled out a "weed" by one of the plants and firmly told me to "tell Monsanto to fix this!" as if I had unlimited access to this seemingly untouchable multi-national corporation. This was my introduction to "small farming in India" which really seemed more like the endlessly erect corn fields i've seen my whole life driving in Indiana than the primitive picture of Indian agriculture i had painted in my mind. Eighty hectares of Monsanto, pesticides, machinery, and self-suicide seeds taking over rural india in the form of cash crops$$$$$$$$
That same day walking through the farm some women hunched over in vibrant saris in the distance caught my eye. My father, Daskaka--Gujarati for "uncle" (everyone's uncle*) pointed out that those people were "lower" and that all of his hired labor were, in fact, lower caste. Though this ancient practice of social stratification has been legally prohibited, it continues to drive and segregate society to this day. My family was a member of the highest caste, the Brahmins, who were those that could acquire "knowledge"or work as clergymen. And though my father hadn't made it past the 6th grade, his children had attended university and were striving to escape rural life and move there way into the "New India"--a world of Goldman-Sachs and Microsoft and T-shirts. He went on to say he paid his laborers 60 rupee a day (US $1.15) and he claimed that he abided by the Child Labor Laws which forbid children under the age of 15 to work. As I looked around, there were surely children working picking cotton and thinning tobacco and i couldn't help by be angry at this man who so easily could distribute his wealth more evenly and cultivate this land more lawfully. The laborers were filthy and many of them looked thin, ill and overworked so i was surprised when i learned that they actually live ABOVE the poverty line in india, which accounts for 80% of the population who lives under $2 a day. Adjusted for PPP these people made about $3 a day.
As the week went on i continued to encounter moments of prejudice and submission in both cases of sex and caste. One weekend night my sisters dressed me up in this sparkling red sari and bedazzled me with bangols and nose rings and we went to the small square outside the temple in our small town and began to dance the "Garba"--a traditional India circle dance. I noticed all of these people huddles around us on the ground wrapped in blankets with unkempt hair and dirty faces and i couldn't help but feel uncomfortable giddily dancing around with the upper caste knowing that there were people that couldn't--that didn't have the right to as lawful as it may have been. The last thing i want to do here is perpetuate and encourage this discrimination but how could i do that while still being "culturally sensitive." I didn't want to offend my host family who was (for the most part) being so great but i just couldn't ignore it.
Here more than anywhere else, i have noticed the line between "culture" and morality being blurred. Any seeming human injustice can be justified by a means of culture and religion. Why do i have to touch a mans feet (and put my face near his crotch) every time i meet one? Indian Culture. Why do my sisters have to give up there seats on the couch every time a man walks in? Indian culture. Did you get to choose your husband? No, arranged marriage is Indian culture. Why do I have to tell my family when i get my period? Because you are unclean and you can't go to temple or enter the kitchen--God says 'no.' Why do I have to vale my head at temple? Ramayana says so. Why don't you work on the farm everyday? We are high caste, this is Indian culture.
I couldn't help but be angry with my self for being so "stuck" on all of my American bias. Sure, i was uncomfortable with it but was that because it was wrong or just different? My family constantly told me i needed to be a "good Indian woman!" and that meant cooking and cleaning and (this one might be the most important) never being tired. As you all know 'organized' is not particularly a word i associate myself with, cooking isn't exactly my forte, and being passive and playing role is definitely something i've been constantly lashing out against my whole life, so you could see how this lifestyle would be different to say the least. And you should have seen their reactions when i told them i had (brace yourself) eaten an egg, or worse, a chicken. Or smoked a cigarette or tasted wine. And by far the most daunting, not have a religion! I felt like i was accepting and respecting so many of their cultural differences but they were just dismissing and hating on mine. They also have decided that wearing sunscreen is incredibly racist and my pregnant sister sneers at me everyday for me wanting to "no turn black." This reached a tipping point when one day i woke up 30 minutes late (7:30) and by sisters harassed me for being "lazy." And i just wanted to scream in their faces "I do what you tell me all day and do the same stupid fucking things to entertain all of YOU and make you laugh" but of course i didn't despite i could practically translate the remarks they were rattling off about me. And they hang a picture of Gandhi in their house...
But i had to make a decision about how to respond to all of this since my natural reaction was clearly formulated by my preconceived beliefs and imposing my own ideas or refusing to abide by theirs was both ignorant and disrespectful. So until i could make a decision i had to my surrender my beliefs and become a "good Indian women" and, with that, figure out what that really meant and felt like. When i changed my attitude i began to see things differently. One day, on women duty, i was cooking rotli with two of my married sisters and one who speaks decent English asked me if i liked cooking. I said yes, but i don't got to do it very often and then reciprocated the question. She put down the pan and spatula and with the most telling look in her eyes replied "It doesn't matter if i like or don't like--i have to do everyday." I had never thought that asking such a question could arise such emotion. It was my first experience of my sisters, who were all between the ages of 20-25 and married, honestly opening up to me about their lives. Daskaka challenged me as well one day, after some tough convincing, he took me to work in the rice patties and we all got right down in the mud with the laborers to plant rice in the morning sun. Daskaka and his wife also asked if they could bring their beds in to our room for sleeping, another aspect of the strong family bond that is so integrated into Indian Culture that felt comfortable to apart of. We watched endless hours of wedding videos, and they family cried as if these viewings were a weekly event and they had memorized every emotional moment. As i shared pictures of home, pictures of me and my "husband" at prom and me and my high school best friends before a Tokyo Drift themed dance, instead of being greeted with judgment and ridicule they responded with laughter and curiosity. Though my father did question "Why isn't your husband an Indian." I told him my best friend was, and i think that many have compensated despite that for some reason in all of the pictures i brought of me and Kailee we are either in some oddly compromising position or wrapped around body guards at M.I.A. concerts.
By the end of the week they had changed my Indian name. Initially they had called me Lily--"Tamaru nam Lily chhe" they had told me. One night attempting to overcome the language barrier, my sisters and I were cuddled up on a bed like a kid slumber party talking and laughing in a bizarre combination of Gujarati and English. After i asked something bordering on taboo about Indian Culture in Gujarati that was, apparently, very funny, someone blurted out what was to become my new nickname--Horkie. For the next few days everyone in the village went on calling me Horkie and when they would introduced me to friends they would proudly announce my newly given indian name, the meaning which i was still ignorant to. When i found out the meaning i was actually delighted at it's connotation. To me it signified the vary indication that i was breaking cultural barriers and surprising people with my sometimes inappropriate and unusual responses to these places and people.
Horkie = Naughty...
2 more weeks wiht my family then off to Agra and Delhi. Going to Mumbai with my family on Tuesday for an Indian wedding! A perfect venue to violate cultural practices!! Just kidding. but i'll continue to live out my name... Horkie Lily Patel
That same day walking through the farm some women hunched over in vibrant saris in the distance caught my eye. My father, Daskaka--Gujarati for "uncle" (everyone's uncle*) pointed out that those people were "lower" and that all of his hired labor were, in fact, lower caste. Though this ancient practice of social stratification has been legally prohibited, it continues to drive and segregate society to this day. My family was a member of the highest caste, the Brahmins, who were those that could acquire "knowledge"or work as clergymen. And though my father hadn't made it past the 6th grade, his children had attended university and were striving to escape rural life and move there way into the "New India"--a world of Goldman-Sachs and Microsoft and T-shirts. He went on to say he paid his laborers 60 rupee a day (US $1.15) and he claimed that he abided by the Child Labor Laws which forbid children under the age of 15 to work. As I looked around, there were surely children working picking cotton and thinning tobacco and i couldn't help by be angry at this man who so easily could distribute his wealth more evenly and cultivate this land more lawfully. The laborers were filthy and many of them looked thin, ill and overworked so i was surprised when i learned that they actually live ABOVE the poverty line in india, which accounts for 80% of the population who lives under $2 a day. Adjusted for PPP these people made about $3 a day.
As the week went on i continued to encounter moments of prejudice and submission in both cases of sex and caste. One weekend night my sisters dressed me up in this sparkling red sari and bedazzled me with bangols and nose rings and we went to the small square outside the temple in our small town and began to dance the "Garba"--a traditional India circle dance. I noticed all of these people huddles around us on the ground wrapped in blankets with unkempt hair and dirty faces and i couldn't help but feel uncomfortable giddily dancing around with the upper caste knowing that there were people that couldn't--that didn't have the right to as lawful as it may have been. The last thing i want to do here is perpetuate and encourage this discrimination but how could i do that while still being "culturally sensitive." I didn't want to offend my host family who was (for the most part) being so great but i just couldn't ignore it.
Here more than anywhere else, i have noticed the line between "culture" and morality being blurred. Any seeming human injustice can be justified by a means of culture and religion. Why do i have to touch a mans feet (and put my face near his crotch) every time i meet one? Indian Culture. Why do my sisters have to give up there seats on the couch every time a man walks in? Indian culture. Did you get to choose your husband? No, arranged marriage is Indian culture. Why do I have to tell my family when i get my period? Because you are unclean and you can't go to temple or enter the kitchen--God says 'no.' Why do I have to vale my head at temple? Ramayana says so. Why don't you work on the farm everyday? We are high caste, this is Indian culture.
I couldn't help but be angry with my self for being so "stuck" on all of my American bias. Sure, i was uncomfortable with it but was that because it was wrong or just different? My family constantly told me i needed to be a "good Indian woman!" and that meant cooking and cleaning and (this one might be the most important) never being tired. As you all know 'organized' is not particularly a word i associate myself with, cooking isn't exactly my forte, and being passive and playing role is definitely something i've been constantly lashing out against my whole life, so you could see how this lifestyle would be different to say the least. And you should have seen their reactions when i told them i had (brace yourself) eaten an egg, or worse, a chicken. Or smoked a cigarette or tasted wine. And by far the most daunting, not have a religion! I felt like i was accepting and respecting so many of their cultural differences but they were just dismissing and hating on mine. They also have decided that wearing sunscreen is incredibly racist and my pregnant sister sneers at me everyday for me wanting to "no turn black." This reached a tipping point when one day i woke up 30 minutes late (7:30) and by sisters harassed me for being "lazy." And i just wanted to scream in their faces "I do what you tell me all day and do the same stupid fucking things to entertain all of YOU and make you laugh" but of course i didn't despite i could practically translate the remarks they were rattling off about me. And they hang a picture of Gandhi in their house...
But i had to make a decision about how to respond to all of this since my natural reaction was clearly formulated by my preconceived beliefs and imposing my own ideas or refusing to abide by theirs was both ignorant and disrespectful. So until i could make a decision i had to my surrender my beliefs and become a "good Indian women" and, with that, figure out what that really meant and felt like. When i changed my attitude i began to see things differently. One day, on women duty, i was cooking rotli with two of my married sisters and one who speaks decent English asked me if i liked cooking. I said yes, but i don't got to do it very often and then reciprocated the question. She put down the pan and spatula and with the most telling look in her eyes replied "It doesn't matter if i like or don't like--i have to do everyday." I had never thought that asking such a question could arise such emotion. It was my first experience of my sisters, who were all between the ages of 20-25 and married, honestly opening up to me about their lives. Daskaka challenged me as well one day, after some tough convincing, he took me to work in the rice patties and we all got right down in the mud with the laborers to plant rice in the morning sun. Daskaka and his wife also asked if they could bring their beds in to our room for sleeping, another aspect of the strong family bond that is so integrated into Indian Culture that felt comfortable to apart of. We watched endless hours of wedding videos, and they family cried as if these viewings were a weekly event and they had memorized every emotional moment. As i shared pictures of home, pictures of me and my "husband" at prom and me and my high school best friends before a Tokyo Drift themed dance, instead of being greeted with judgment and ridicule they responded with laughter and curiosity. Though my father did question "Why isn't your husband an Indian." I told him my best friend was, and i think that many have compensated despite that for some reason in all of the pictures i brought of me and Kailee we are either in some oddly compromising position or wrapped around body guards at M.I.A. concerts.
By the end of the week they had changed my Indian name. Initially they had called me Lily--"Tamaru nam Lily chhe" they had told me. One night attempting to overcome the language barrier, my sisters and I were cuddled up on a bed like a kid slumber party talking and laughing in a bizarre combination of Gujarati and English. After i asked something bordering on taboo about Indian Culture in Gujarati that was, apparently, very funny, someone blurted out what was to become my new nickname--Horkie. For the next few days everyone in the village went on calling me Horkie and when they would introduced me to friends they would proudly announce my newly given indian name, the meaning which i was still ignorant to. When i found out the meaning i was actually delighted at it's connotation. To me it signified the vary indication that i was breaking cultural barriers and surprising people with my sometimes inappropriate and unusual responses to these places and people.
Horkie = Naughty...
2 more weeks wiht my family then off to Agra and Delhi. Going to Mumbai with my family on Tuesday for an Indian wedding! A perfect venue to violate cultural practices!! Just kidding. but i'll continue to live out my name... Horkie Lily Patel
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