Kathputli Nagar

Today is my third day teaching in Kathputli Nagar. Even though class attendance varies, there are usually around eight or nine girls each day between the ages of 10 and 17 (although based on appearances you would guess they were between 8 and 14). Our classroom is a small concrete room about the size of --and reminiscent of-- a prison cell painted a dirty light yellow, equipped with a white board that is propped up on a plastic chair, one old English textbook, a blanket for the girls to sit on, and one dusty old computer that might very well be the original 1981 PC prototype. Everyday I bring a marker to and from the site, and some of the girls have ratty old notebooks for writing down English words that they have covered in newspaper to preserve.

Neha, Mamta, Kiran, Reshma, me, and Rinku

Our first few lessons have been a bit strange since it took time for me to gauge how much the girls knew. This proved difficult because their English education has been extremely sporadic and insufficient. While they can list the alphabet, countless colors, numbers, adjectives, nouns, etc., most girls cannot converse or formulate sentences at all. Moreover, some girls are fairly skilled at speaking, reading, and writing English, whereas others can barely say 'how are you.'

The first day I stopped by to meet/recruit the young girls, it struck me how painfully shy they all seemed. This was a huge contrast to the young boys who had literally chased me down the street and accosted me with greetings and handshakes. When I went to introduce myself and shake their hands they all seemed hesitant and confused. It was as though they were uncomfortable being addressed directly and given so much attention by someone that was deemed 'important' (that's right, in the slums being white automatically makes you the big cheese whether you like it or not).

The way the different genders reacted to the handshake, and to me, seems to be a microcosm for the deeply ingrained female oppression in India. The girls were not consciously acting shy because they were all shy by nature, nor were they withdrawing because they were aware that as females it was their 'place' to be submissive. Rather, the girls simply felt at their core that they were less important than their boy counterparts, and therefore less deserving of my attention. Their reluctance was a product of these Indian gender ideologies, they felt they had no right to speak first or initiate an introduction.

Day 2: I bought paints! The girls were so happy.

Therefore I thought it was very appropriate that my first mini-lesson to the girls was how to give a proper American handshake. I discussed the cultural uses of the handshake and its importance in business and social exchanges. Next we paired off and practiced these handshakes until the girls became comfortable with them, focusing on stiff arms, tight grip, and eye contact. Since then I have begun each lesson by shaking each girl's hand so that, in a very small way, these girls feel worthwhile. After that first small lesson one of the girls, Kiran, chased me down and shook my hand one last time, saying "nice to meet you" (one of the phrases we had practiced).
"Nice to meet you too, Kiran." I replied.
She smiled and, looking down at the ground she mumbled, "you are very sweet, thank you very much" and turned to run off down the road.

Like a Rock Star

Friday was my first day seeing my project site and meeting the young Indian girls I will be working with in Kathputli Nagar, the poorest of all the slums in Jaipur. After a high-stress ride on the back of Suchi's motorcycle (a young Indian woman who arranged for my translator in the slums), I arrived. It is important that you understand exactly where these slums are located. Kathputli Nagar sits across from Jaipur's statuesque parliament building (picture an ornate stone version of the White House),  separated by some shops and a short field that doubles as a massive latrine.

To be honest, I have been dreading writing this post ever since I saw the slums because nothing I say will be enough; there is no way to convey the sense of tragedy that overcomes you when you arrive there. There are families living in tents and impromptu structures that look like something a 4th grader would build to play fort, and all of this exists amidst mountainous piles of garbage. The children are completely covered in dirt, their hands and faces are black from the filth, their bodies are thin as reeds, their clothes are dusty and torn--if they have any clothes at all. Many of these children are blind in one eye or crippled. Babies that are barely old enough to walk crawl around naked and parentless in the dirt and trash while pigs, cows, goats, and dogs comb the streets. I use the word "streets" loosely as it is mostly just alleys with loose slabs of stone which act as stepping blocks over garbage and rivers of sewage water. It is devastating in a way that makes you want to run away but at the same time compels you to look.

Despite all this, in the true spirit of childhood, I found that the slum children were just children: silly and energetic. They all seemed happy and blissfully unaware of their own plight. When Suchi and I arrived it was as though they had just seen Miley Cyrus or the Messiah, they began chasing after our motorcycle like crazed groupies, screaming 'hello my name is...' with their arms fully extended, trying to touch my hands. I have never felt more like a rock star. When I dismounted they swarmed me, all vying to practice their hand shakes and greet me in English. As corny as it sounds, these children were a wonderful reminder that  innocence is a sacred and universal gift.

Extreme Tuk-tuking

Namaste everyone! I will write a longer entry once I have rehydrated/caught up on my sleep, but just so everyone knows, after over 30 hours of traveling I have arrived in Jaipur, the legendary pink city. Upon my arrival, two toothless Indian men who assured me "yes okay" even when I asked them where we were going, accompanied me on the tuk-tuk ride of my life. After encountering a lane barrier on the highway we veered across onto the other side and to my horror proceeded to careen the wrong way as three lanes of bikes, cars, buses, and trucks came speeding at us. Just as the main character of the new show 'Outsourced' noted, riding in a tuk-tuk is exactly like playing a live game of Frogger, only the roads are lined with cows, camels, and elephants.

But enough about India's wild side (yes, they may be sexually conservative and they may not party hard, but man, they are wild drivers). Today I will be visiting the site where I will be teaching women empowerment, a slum dwelling called Kathputli Nagar. I am hoping to recruit about 20 girls (at the very least 15) to attend lessons from 1:00 PM - 5:00 PM everyday. Ideally these young women would benefit from full-time schooling, but since women are in charge of all domestic labor most of their mornings are spent cooking, cleaning, and collecting fresh water, especially if they are somebody's wife. As you can tell from my opening, I am working to learn some Hindi while I am here, but I will be working with a translator during class hours just in case I run into any lingual roadblocks. I have many great ideas for lesson plans, but have not set a course in stone since I am hoping to get feedback from these young women and tailor the lessons to their specific interests. I am hoping to have more updates and some project photos next time I sign on, but right now I am sweating like a pro athlete (to say that it is hot would be an understatement, the nights reach lows of 75 degrees) and must go tend to our newest house guest, the ten inch green lizard who mistook our toilet for a pond. Accha-ji!