As I wait at the end of my little lane for tempo 33 to come chugging along, I am faced with both a tent colony and a glistening palace. Made of clothing, torn fabrics, and newspaper, the ten or so tents occupy a small sandy lot across the street from my house. I am accustomed to the morning 'Madame! Hello Madame' that a little girl with a shaved head has called out to me each morning since my first. Behind the dusty and tattered tents stands the Umaid Bhawan Palace, the stunning home of Jodhpur's royal family. Sometimes I feel as though it is nothing more than a painted backdrop, as its carved pillars and domed roof are almost too magnificent to warrant such normalcy. From where I stand, the tent colony represents the underbelly of the Palace's majesty. The scene is a constant reminder of the coexistence and contradictions of Indian society.
'Concealing emotions, Sarah, is a key principle of social work,' GVSS's project manager told me the other morning as he underlined it twice and drew an arrow pointing towards it, 'you need to work on this!' He likes to sit me down and give me mini lessons about social work and each time he proudly mentions the Masters in Social Work that he holds (he speaks English!). This morning's statement is telling of my experience here in two ways- 1. Indians are very blunt in giving their opinion and 2. Showing emotions gets you close to nowhere. Besides being a little taken aback at first when my coworker frankly told me I needed to comb my hair or when having a blemish amounts to another exclaiming 'Sarah! Your face is pimples!', I have been able to cope with the matter-of-fact observations. As an emotional person who has been raised to advocate for and express myself, the perception of emotions here has not been easy to navigate. If there's one thing I've learned so far, besides only eat with your right hand, it would be that to live here, you have to have thick skin. The process of learning that lesson has landed me in the squat-toilet bathroom of GVSS biting my dupatta to hold back a wide range of frustrations. But just as a car accident involving a crate of fruit, a rickshaw, and two goats got resolved in about five minutes and then seemed to have never happened, issues arise (very loudly), pass, and are never looked back on.
Last week was a test of my ability to adhere to that expectation, and although it was difficult to do so, this week completely made up for it. I've spent this week planning and finally implementing the sewing project in Bhadvasia. Securing the teacher and venue were the easy part, getting a finalized list of participants' names was another story (one that is still in the process of being completed). I arranged two one-day planning meetings so that any woman/girl interested in taking the 2 month course could come and learn about the course. About 40 FSWs (female sex workers) arrived at the small turquoise house eager to sign themselves (and a few sisters and friends) up for the trainings! They sat around us (me, an ORW, and a translator) as we explained the guidelines and structure of the course. My white and pink kurta paled in comparison to the vibrant greens, hot pinks, and oranges of their saris and salwaars. One girl asked if at the end of each session I could give them 'beauty tips,' little at-home remedies for hair or skin... sure? Another asked which 'fair cream' I use. When I told her that I didn't use any of the horrible, skin bleaching products that girls slather their faces and arms with to make their skin lighter (different words of course), the group was shocked. When I then explained that in the States many girls actually darken their skin with creams and purposely lay out in the sun for tanner skin, they broke out into even more of a frenzy.
Although they took 2 hours more than necessary, the meetings were wonderful and full of energy. Seeing how excited the women are to begin on Monday gave me some much-needed reassurance. After some confusion caused by which of the three Sunitas, Pujas, and Kavitas were which, we were on our way passed the naked children playing in the gutter and a woman carrying a freshly severed goat head. The planning meetings, drafts and drafts of attendance sheets, giggling rickshaw rides to the ICTC, and the multiple pairs warm skinny hands latching onto me to and from the slum made this week a true testimony to the value of just letting things happen as they will- even if I have to do so standing next to a squat toilet doing breathing techniques (not a good combination!). I am so looking forward to seeing how the first class goes on Monday, but even more so to spending more time with the girls, women, and babies of Bhadvasia as we somehow manage to get along just fine with broken sentences and laughter.
'Concealing emotions, Sarah, is a key principle of social work,' GVSS's project manager told me the other morning as he underlined it twice and drew an arrow pointing towards it, 'you need to work on this!' He likes to sit me down and give me mini lessons about social work and each time he proudly mentions the Masters in Social Work that he holds (he speaks English!). This morning's statement is telling of my experience here in two ways- 1. Indians are very blunt in giving their opinion and 2. Showing emotions gets you close to nowhere. Besides being a little taken aback at first when my coworker frankly told me I needed to comb my hair or when having a blemish amounts to another exclaiming 'Sarah! Your face is pimples!', I have been able to cope with the matter-of-fact observations. As an emotional person who has been raised to advocate for and express myself, the perception of emotions here has not been easy to navigate. If there's one thing I've learned so far, besides only eat with your right hand, it would be that to live here, you have to have thick skin. The process of learning that lesson has landed me in the squat-toilet bathroom of GVSS biting my dupatta to hold back a wide range of frustrations. But just as a car accident involving a crate of fruit, a rickshaw, and two goats got resolved in about five minutes and then seemed to have never happened, issues arise (very loudly), pass, and are never looked back on.
Last week was a test of my ability to adhere to that expectation, and although it was difficult to do so, this week completely made up for it. I've spent this week planning and finally implementing the sewing project in Bhadvasia. Securing the teacher and venue were the easy part, getting a finalized list of participants' names was another story (one that is still in the process of being completed). I arranged two one-day planning meetings so that any woman/girl interested in taking the 2 month course could come and learn about the course. About 40 FSWs (female sex workers) arrived at the small turquoise house eager to sign themselves (and a few sisters and friends) up for the trainings! They sat around us (me, an ORW, and a translator) as we explained the guidelines and structure of the course. My white and pink kurta paled in comparison to the vibrant greens, hot pinks, and oranges of their saris and salwaars. One girl asked if at the end of each session I could give them 'beauty tips,' little at-home remedies for hair or skin... sure? Another asked which 'fair cream' I use. When I told her that I didn't use any of the horrible, skin bleaching products that girls slather their faces and arms with to make their skin lighter (different words of course), the group was shocked. When I then explained that in the States many girls actually darken their skin with creams and purposely lay out in the sun for tanner skin, they broke out into even more of a frenzy.
Although they took 2 hours more than necessary, the meetings were wonderful and full of energy. Seeing how excited the women are to begin on Monday gave me some much-needed reassurance. After some confusion caused by which of the three Sunitas, Pujas, and Kavitas were which, we were on our way passed the naked children playing in the gutter and a woman carrying a freshly severed goat head. The planning meetings, drafts and drafts of attendance sheets, giggling rickshaw rides to the ICTC, and the multiple pairs warm skinny hands latching onto me to and from the slum made this week a true testimony to the value of just letting things happen as they will- even if I have to do so standing next to a squat toilet doing breathing techniques (not a good combination!). I am so looking forward to seeing how the first class goes on Monday, but even more so to spending more time with the girls, women, and babies of Bhadvasia as we somehow manage to get along just fine with broken sentences and laughter.
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