What makes one human being think that they own another--that a woman is just a commodity that can be used then abused, verbally, physically, and sexually. I'm sitting here, trying to continue this post, but I can't find words that articulate the disgust, anger, and pain I'm feeling right now.
Today, I interviewed Naukrani Devi. A woman who has been abused in such a way, that her husband has even brought other men home to sexually abuse her as they please. This sick, twisted, ass hole of a man, beats her to a pulp everyday, sleeps with her at least once every night, and gives her 300 rupees per month (less than 8 dollars) to feed herself and her three children. She pees in her kitchen, she has forgotten how to cook, but still, she continues her miserable life every day.
"What do you think of your life," I asked her. She replied by drawing an analogy to an unsewn salwar kameez. If someone sews it, well and good, if not, she's just got to get through until it's thrown out. "I'm used to it by now, afterall, it's my life we're talking about."
I never thought of myself as a feminist. Though many have said it, including those who know me best, I've always denied it. I thought of myself as a humanist instead, believing in 'true equality.' But how can you talk about true equality when women are being raped by their own husbands? How can you imagine equality when they are seen as a dollar sign with a dowry attached? How can you be an equal, when you are a burden as a woman?
I'm a feminist. End of story. Next time someone says it to my face, I'll take it as a compliment.
S.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
Crap.
Today is one of those days. I feel like crap. I look like crap. I stepped in crap.
I've been up since 6:00am, taken a total of 10 busses (to and back from my destination), travelled in total for probably 7 hours, with a solid 2 hours of walking within that. Why? To of course gain some more knowledge about Health Sub-Centres in the district- to carry out the survey that I've spent so much time and effort researching for.
Since I've been going to some of the most remote areas in the district with my team of 2, it's composed of long days with lots of travel. One bus literally comes every few hours, otherwise it's a tonne of walking once your there, on rocky, uneven, mountainous terrain.
Because it's such a remote area, my team and I were almost positive that the health workers at the sub-centres likely wouldn't come everyday, so we were prepared to have to return to at least one of the HSCs on another day. What we weren't prepared for was returning for four straight days and not finding one health worker. When we talked to the community, we got mixed responses. Some people had told us straight to our faces that these workers barely come- 'they're paid by the government, their jobs are safe, they don't give a crap about us.' That was the minority, for some reason, the majority of people were afraid of telling us the truth...saying things like, 'it's not my place to say anything' and then shying away from conversation. I don't get it! 'It is your place to say everything' I wanted to scream to them. 'This is your right, the government is paying them everyday for a job they don't do, because you, the people, don't say anything.' Of course I didn't say anything, because that would just be ignorance again...I want to try to understand where this mentality is coming from...but that's a whole other point.
Right now, all I feel is defeated. I think I'm going to go back to my room and read one of the GH articles we had about health systems, maybe it'll shed some light.
Anywho, for any of those who have been regularly following, you've probably noticed how much I've cut down in the blog posts, you deserve an explanation. I feel like over these past few months, and especially the last month and a half, I've really integrated into the society and the daily life here. Everything was quite natural- I have a routine. Wake up in the morning, make lunch, breakfast, shower, go to work, come home by 6, wash clothes, make dinner etc. Many days I've gone to stay by my friends houses, with their family's in areas where internet cafes just aren't easily accessible. Point is, past checking the few emails and sending out a few messages once a week, it just has felt unnatural to come park myself at a cafe for an hour or so to blog. Today, however, was one of those days where I needed this escape. Now that I'm entering my last week here, I will try keeping you all updated. There are a few things I want and need to write about...so I'll definitely be continuing that even after I'm home.
2 weeks-- Crap. where did the summer go?
S.
I've been up since 6:00am, taken a total of 10 busses (to and back from my destination), travelled in total for probably 7 hours, with a solid 2 hours of walking within that. Why? To of course gain some more knowledge about Health Sub-Centres in the district- to carry out the survey that I've spent so much time and effort researching for.
Since I've been going to some of the most remote areas in the district with my team of 2, it's composed of long days with lots of travel. One bus literally comes every few hours, otherwise it's a tonne of walking once your there, on rocky, uneven, mountainous terrain.
Because it's such a remote area, my team and I were almost positive that the health workers at the sub-centres likely wouldn't come everyday, so we were prepared to have to return to at least one of the HSCs on another day. What we weren't prepared for was returning for four straight days and not finding one health worker. When we talked to the community, we got mixed responses. Some people had told us straight to our faces that these workers barely come- 'they're paid by the government, their jobs are safe, they don't give a crap about us.' That was the minority, for some reason, the majority of people were afraid of telling us the truth...saying things like, 'it's not my place to say anything' and then shying away from conversation. I don't get it! 'It is your place to say everything' I wanted to scream to them. 'This is your right, the government is paying them everyday for a job they don't do, because you, the people, don't say anything.' Of course I didn't say anything, because that would just be ignorance again...I want to try to understand where this mentality is coming from...but that's a whole other point.
Right now, all I feel is defeated. I think I'm going to go back to my room and read one of the GH articles we had about health systems, maybe it'll shed some light.
Anywho, for any of those who have been regularly following, you've probably noticed how much I've cut down in the blog posts, you deserve an explanation. I feel like over these past few months, and especially the last month and a half, I've really integrated into the society and the daily life here. Everything was quite natural- I have a routine. Wake up in the morning, make lunch, breakfast, shower, go to work, come home by 6, wash clothes, make dinner etc. Many days I've gone to stay by my friends houses, with their family's in areas where internet cafes just aren't easily accessible. Point is, past checking the few emails and sending out a few messages once a week, it just has felt unnatural to come park myself at a cafe for an hour or so to blog. Today, however, was one of those days where I needed this escape. Now that I'm entering my last week here, I will try keeping you all updated. There are a few things I want and need to write about...so I'll definitely be continuing that even after I'm home.
2 weeks-- Crap. where did the summer go?
S.
Monday, June 7, 2010
An Experience
The morning began with an early phonecall from Asha, my good friend and co-worker, asking me to join her on an excursion to the Community Health Centre (CHC) to interview Veena Devi. I didn't ask the purpose of the interview, didn't think twice of Veena Devi or the CHC, just thought of the great experience and research I would gain from the trip. I responded excitedly with a yes. I look back on that moment now, ashamed and disappointed in my foolishness. "An experience..."
It's much more than that. It's someone's life story. It's reality. It's anything but a stupid experience.
I quickly realized my mistake when we reached the CHC. Even prior to entering, a feeling of queasiness, of unsettling, reached my stomach. I could smell the sickness in the air and it overwhelmed my very core. As Asha and two of our community health workers engaged in a conversation nonchalantly, I found myself sinking in the sickness around me. I felt seperated from my body; it was as if a third person was watching the scene- someone other than me. A young boy, in tattered old clothes, covered in dirt and likely no older than 11 or 12, was holding his twisted and bleeding arm gingerly; he still had the strength to smile at me. I tried to smile back. Even before I began to digest the scene, a woman being held by 3 others walked by muttering inaudible words, rolling her eyes in her head. With an inexplicable feeling of fear, I flashed my eyes away from her. Just then, my eyes fell upon a petit woman in a faded purple salwar kameez; she was so skinny that her collar bones looked as though they were carved out of her skin. She sat in a crouched position, holding her legs so close to her that you would think they were falling off. That was when I first saw Veena Devi.
Asha, the community health workers, Veena Devi, and her sister-in-law all walked outside, with me timidly following behind. We found a little pavement to sit on that wasn't polluted or covered in garbage, and began to talk.
Veena Devi was married off at an age close to 17, she thinks. She lived a relatively normal life with her husband, until 5 years into the marraige, when overnight, he went 'mental.' Things began small, where he would verbally abuse her. Saying she was a slut, and a whore- that she had slept with all the men in the village, including his brother. His verbal abuse got worse and more wide spread. He would insult her in front of large groups of people, and say things directly to his brother, accusing him of having an affair with his wife. His brother eventually committed suicide.
The abuse got worse, and turned physical. He would pull knives on Veena, beat her with a stick, a broom, a rock, whatever he could lay his hands on. Veena claims she stayed strong through it all, never letting depression or saddness take her. Until one day, when Veena's husband left the house. Veena Devi's sister-in-laws and brothers told her not to go, but she followed him, not wanting to be left behind by her husband. They spent the following 2 days in a field she says. Only Veena Devi knows what happened in those two days. All she said was that they had entered into sexual relations and she felt fear the entire time. Her family says she hasn't been the same since. Refusing to eat, sleep, or even stay in one place, Veena seems to be suffering from severe depression. She has attempted to commit suicide multiple times, always to stopped by someone. Her husband is currently missing, her children dispersed among relatives, and Veena Devi sits with a look of emptiness in her eyes, and speaks very little and very quietly- all while twiddling her fingers with the innocence of a child.
When I asked her what was the feeling she had when she tried committing suicide, she thought deeply, and replied:
"I want to be free, I want to fly."
It's much more than that. It's someone's life story. It's reality. It's anything but a stupid experience.
I quickly realized my mistake when we reached the CHC. Even prior to entering, a feeling of queasiness, of unsettling, reached my stomach. I could smell the sickness in the air and it overwhelmed my very core. As Asha and two of our community health workers engaged in a conversation nonchalantly, I found myself sinking in the sickness around me. I felt seperated from my body; it was as if a third person was watching the scene- someone other than me. A young boy, in tattered old clothes, covered in dirt and likely no older than 11 or 12, was holding his twisted and bleeding arm gingerly; he still had the strength to smile at me. I tried to smile back. Even before I began to digest the scene, a woman being held by 3 others walked by muttering inaudible words, rolling her eyes in her head. With an inexplicable feeling of fear, I flashed my eyes away from her. Just then, my eyes fell upon a petit woman in a faded purple salwar kameez; she was so skinny that her collar bones looked as though they were carved out of her skin. She sat in a crouched position, holding her legs so close to her that you would think they were falling off. That was when I first saw Veena Devi.
Asha, the community health workers, Veena Devi, and her sister-in-law all walked outside, with me timidly following behind. We found a little pavement to sit on that wasn't polluted or covered in garbage, and began to talk.
Veena Devi was married off at an age close to 17, she thinks. She lived a relatively normal life with her husband, until 5 years into the marraige, when overnight, he went 'mental.' Things began small, where he would verbally abuse her. Saying she was a slut, and a whore- that she had slept with all the men in the village, including his brother. His verbal abuse got worse and more wide spread. He would insult her in front of large groups of people, and say things directly to his brother, accusing him of having an affair with his wife. His brother eventually committed suicide.
The abuse got worse, and turned physical. He would pull knives on Veena, beat her with a stick, a broom, a rock, whatever he could lay his hands on. Veena claims she stayed strong through it all, never letting depression or saddness take her. Until one day, when Veena's husband left the house. Veena Devi's sister-in-laws and brothers told her not to go, but she followed him, not wanting to be left behind by her husband. They spent the following 2 days in a field she says. Only Veena Devi knows what happened in those two days. All she said was that they had entered into sexual relations and she felt fear the entire time. Her family says she hasn't been the same since. Refusing to eat, sleep, or even stay in one place, Veena seems to be suffering from severe depression. She has attempted to commit suicide multiple times, always to stopped by someone. Her husband is currently missing, her children dispersed among relatives, and Veena Devi sits with a look of emptiness in her eyes, and speaks very little and very quietly- all while twiddling her fingers with the innocence of a child.
When I asked her what was the feeling she had when she tried committing suicide, she thought deeply, and replied:
"I want to be free, I want to fly."
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Play by Play
I'm sitting at a little place not far from my home in Norblingka, drinking a mango shake and feeding the shop's dog and still sneezing. Today was a good day. A memorable day.
It started at 6:00am, when I woke up, woke up my roomies, ironed my all white indian suit. I was ready for the 33% reservation campaign for women in parliament. Before I go on about the day, I'll give you some background. Less than 10% of the individuals sitting in the Indian parliament are women; many feminist activists and NGOs around the country are supporting a bill to end this inequality in the Indian government, one that demands 33% reservation of seats for women in parliament. The 33% for women campaign includes three caravans that are travelling the North, South, and Centre of India with a mission to spread awareness of the bill, rally support, and put pressure on the government. Today, three NGOs in the area hosted this campaign, Jagori, Nishta, and the Human Rights Law Network. Though I've been specifically working in the realm of healthcare here with Jagori, I had an opportunity to sit in on the rally today and participate in the activities.
We began by decorating the hall with signs of equality, justice for women, etc. and then made our way over the central location where the rally began. Songs rang through the air, women from all over India who organized the campaign on a national level came out, local NGOs were all participating. It was a lot of fun. We then made our way back to the main hall, where speakers, men and women, from all over the country were speaking about the bill and the campaign...and how the day that no one needs to ask for 50% reservation for women, will be the day that true equality will exist.
The day ended off with some festivities. I had a chance/was forced by Jagori staff to dance to classical Himachali music. Some how I ended up incorporating bhangra into the dance- don't ask ;).
So that was a quick play-by-play of my day. I'll check in again soon.
With love, Sheiry.
It started at 6:00am, when I woke up, woke up my roomies, ironed my all white indian suit. I was ready for the 33% reservation campaign for women in parliament. Before I go on about the day, I'll give you some background. Less than 10% of the individuals sitting in the Indian parliament are women; many feminist activists and NGOs around the country are supporting a bill to end this inequality in the Indian government, one that demands 33% reservation of seats for women in parliament. The 33% for women campaign includes three caravans that are travelling the North, South, and Centre of India with a mission to spread awareness of the bill, rally support, and put pressure on the government. Today, three NGOs in the area hosted this campaign, Jagori, Nishta, and the Human Rights Law Network. Though I've been specifically working in the realm of healthcare here with Jagori, I had an opportunity to sit in on the rally today and participate in the activities.
We began by decorating the hall with signs of equality, justice for women, etc. and then made our way over the central location where the rally began. Songs rang through the air, women from all over India who organized the campaign on a national level came out, local NGOs were all participating. It was a lot of fun. We then made our way back to the main hall, where speakers, men and women, from all over the country were speaking about the bill and the campaign...and how the day that no one needs to ask for 50% reservation for women, will be the day that true equality will exist.
The day ended off with some festivities. I had a chance/was forced by Jagori staff to dance to classical Himachali music. Some how I ended up incorporating bhangra into the dance- don't ask ;).
So that was a quick play-by-play of my day. I'll check in again soon.
With love, Sheiry.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Ignorance is Bliss
I had an extremely informative and frustrating conversation with Dr. Imrana the other day, a paediatrician from Delhi who has experience in the Indian public health sector equivalent to 2x my age (she's here visiting Jagori just for 5 days). It was informative because knowledge and experience oozed from her very words, and frustrating because it brought light to my ignorance, to how much I still don't know, to how many paradigm shifts in thinking I still have ahead of me.
I was upset initially after the conversation, not with Dr. Imrana of course, but with myself, for my ignorance. But you know, over the last few days, I've come to realize that ignorance is okay. We're all ignorant to some extent; what it's really about, is continually minimizing that ignorance, constantly learning, and never being satisfied with the amount of knowledge that we currently have.
When in the field, for Dr. Pritam's health camps, I came to see first hand the low awareness levels surrounding the national health schemes among the rural populations. Digesting it for the next few days, I thought to myself, you know, if Jagori took a long term perspective on increasing awareness of these health issues amongst the rural population, the communities would know about these schemes they are entitled to, and all would be well in the world (well, my thinking process wasn't quite this simple, I may be exaggerating a bit to highlight my ignorance). In my mind, the disconnect was between policy implementation on the governance level, and policy awareness on the grass roots level; in my mind, this gap needed to be minimized. I even spoke to my direct supervisor, the founder of JagoriGrameen, about incorporating this into a thesis project and including it in our health proposal, she also thought it was a great idea. Then Dr. Imrana asked me a simple question, an extremely simple question that I overlooked entirely; are any of these policies and schemes actually filling the needs of the communities? Is there any research on that? If we begin spreading awareness of national health schemes that are entirely worthless to needs of the people, what the heck is the point? If JagoriGrameen, if I with the organization, began spreading awareness of these schemes without first understanding if they fit the needs of the people or not, how am I any different from the policy makers who implement policies without understanding the realities of the field?
I think I'm beginning to realize how complicated it all is, and that it's not an overnight process. Assessment needs to be the first step, and that requires understanding the policies on the governance level, but also understanding the people's needs, and you can only find that out by going into the field and talking to them.
Anywho, that's my rant. I think, rather than figuring out a long term thesis project right at the beginning, I want see where this summer goes, see where my research surrounding primary health centres stands, and see where I, along with the organization, can take it into the future.
Enough about work! I'll end off with just a briefing of some of the interesting things of the day:
- Ate a mini-mango in front of my entire team because of a dare. Never realized it was going to be the most sour thing I've ever eaten
- Spent 4 hours on the local transit bus, 2 hours of which were spent standing face-to-face with people 'cause the bus was insanely full
- Have serious sniffles, sneezes, and a red nose because I decided to shower in a waterfall and go swimming in the most beautiful water coming down from the Himalayas at a temple.
- Went for a walk in the rain
- Handwashed clothes for 1.5 hrs, partially because I am awful at it, and partially because I've been procrastinating for a few days now
Okie dokes, again, miss you all. I'm usually too busy to miss home, but every once in a while I have those days where I miss mum's cooking and my family and friends.
I was upset initially after the conversation, not with Dr. Imrana of course, but with myself, for my ignorance. But you know, over the last few days, I've come to realize that ignorance is okay. We're all ignorant to some extent; what it's really about, is continually minimizing that ignorance, constantly learning, and never being satisfied with the amount of knowledge that we currently have.
When in the field, for Dr. Pritam's health camps, I came to see first hand the low awareness levels surrounding the national health schemes among the rural populations. Digesting it for the next few days, I thought to myself, you know, if Jagori took a long term perspective on increasing awareness of these health issues amongst the rural population, the communities would know about these schemes they are entitled to, and all would be well in the world (well, my thinking process wasn't quite this simple, I may be exaggerating a bit to highlight my ignorance). In my mind, the disconnect was between policy implementation on the governance level, and policy awareness on the grass roots level; in my mind, this gap needed to be minimized. I even spoke to my direct supervisor, the founder of JagoriGrameen, about incorporating this into a thesis project and including it in our health proposal, she also thought it was a great idea. Then Dr. Imrana asked me a simple question, an extremely simple question that I overlooked entirely; are any of these policies and schemes actually filling the needs of the communities? Is there any research on that? If we begin spreading awareness of national health schemes that are entirely worthless to needs of the people, what the heck is the point? If JagoriGrameen, if I with the organization, began spreading awareness of these schemes without first understanding if they fit the needs of the people or not, how am I any different from the policy makers who implement policies without understanding the realities of the field?
I think I'm beginning to realize how complicated it all is, and that it's not an overnight process. Assessment needs to be the first step, and that requires understanding the policies on the governance level, but also understanding the people's needs, and you can only find that out by going into the field and talking to them.
Anywho, that's my rant. I think, rather than figuring out a long term thesis project right at the beginning, I want see where this summer goes, see where my research surrounding primary health centres stands, and see where I, along with the organization, can take it into the future.
Enough about work! I'll end off with just a briefing of some of the interesting things of the day:
- Ate a mini-mango in front of my entire team because of a dare. Never realized it was going to be the most sour thing I've ever eaten
- Spent 4 hours on the local transit bus, 2 hours of which were spent standing face-to-face with people 'cause the bus was insanely full
- Have serious sniffles, sneezes, and a red nose because I decided to shower in a waterfall and go swimming in the most beautiful water coming down from the Himalayas at a temple.
- Went for a walk in the rain
- Handwashed clothes for 1.5 hrs, partially because I am awful at it, and partially because I've been procrastinating for a few days now
Okie dokes, again, miss you all. I'm usually too busy to miss home, but every once in a while I have those days where I miss mum's cooking and my family and friends.
Friday, May 28, 2010
The Fourth Trimester
Women are worthless. They have no value-- in fact, if you take a logical approach to the concept, they're actually worth a negative value. After birth, they only carry out domestic work and bring in no real income. Once they're of reasonable age to marry, a dowry must be paid to get them off the hands of their parents. And then after marraige, some of these women have the audacity of reproducing other female offspring, to start this vicous cycle over again...
Yeah, fuck that.
I can't tell you, in the mere 4 weeks I've been here, the number of gender selective abortions I have been exposed to, heard about, and even witnessed is alarmingly high. This isn't only a notion accepted by the male dominated society, it's by the women as well. They've been conditioned to believe they have no self-worth, and thus giving birth to another female is not an option. Just a week ago, at gynecological health camps that were being run by Dr.Pritam and a few of the Jagori staff, including myself, I saw a very peculiar case. 11 months pregnant- don't know how she was alive and still walking, but she was 11 months pregnant. Now that's not what caught me offguard-- the woman and her husband, at the 3 month stage had gone to a private clinic (public hospitals, PHCs no longer conduct ultrasounds in here) paid a little extra money to get an ultrasound. Already having 4 daughters, this was the 5th one on the way. Naturally, the only option was to abort at 3 months. There's been a craze around a medication that can be gained over the counter these days that aborts the child here in India...without any real effort. Take the pill at home, the baby will come out early and dead-- a little messy maybe, but much better than giving birth to a girl right?
Wrong.
The child never came out. Her uterus is still the size of a dead three month child, and the baby never left her stomach. I don't know how she's not septic, full of infection, or even dead. But Dr. Pritam assured me that this wasn't the only case of this kind she's seen.
It's so unfortunate how women are viewed in some of these villages, and how it's such burden, not a joy to give birth to a little girl. It brings me back to the phonecall my parents recieved after my birth-- the one where an elderly woman apologized that they had 'another daughter.' Lucky my parents don't view the world in this skewed way.
I'm a little annoyed after writing this one to be entirely honest, I'll check in soon to write about more positive things hopefully. I've made good progress on my work so far, and am even looking for ways to incorporate into a potential long term thesis project where I'll be returning to India in the next 1-1.5 years. I'm really interested in this massive gap that exists between policy development, implementation, and awareness...
Miss you all.
S.
Yeah, fuck that.
I can't tell you, in the mere 4 weeks I've been here, the number of gender selective abortions I have been exposed to, heard about, and even witnessed is alarmingly high. This isn't only a notion accepted by the male dominated society, it's by the women as well. They've been conditioned to believe they have no self-worth, and thus giving birth to another female is not an option. Just a week ago, at gynecological health camps that were being run by Dr.Pritam and a few of the Jagori staff, including myself, I saw a very peculiar case. 11 months pregnant- don't know how she was alive and still walking, but she was 11 months pregnant. Now that's not what caught me offguard-- the woman and her husband, at the 3 month stage had gone to a private clinic (public hospitals, PHCs no longer conduct ultrasounds in here) paid a little extra money to get an ultrasound. Already having 4 daughters, this was the 5th one on the way. Naturally, the only option was to abort at 3 months. There's been a craze around a medication that can be gained over the counter these days that aborts the child here in India...without any real effort. Take the pill at home, the baby will come out early and dead-- a little messy maybe, but much better than giving birth to a girl right?
Wrong.
The child never came out. Her uterus is still the size of a dead three month child, and the baby never left her stomach. I don't know how she's not septic, full of infection, or even dead. But Dr. Pritam assured me that this wasn't the only case of this kind she's seen.
It's so unfortunate how women are viewed in some of these villages, and how it's such burden, not a joy to give birth to a little girl. It brings me back to the phonecall my parents recieved after my birth-- the one where an elderly woman apologized that they had 'another daughter.' Lucky my parents don't view the world in this skewed way.
I'm a little annoyed after writing this one to be entirely honest, I'll check in soon to write about more positive things hopefully. I've made good progress on my work so far, and am even looking for ways to incorporate into a potential long term thesis project where I'll be returning to India in the next 1-1.5 years. I'm really interested in this massive gap that exists between policy development, implementation, and awareness...
Miss you all.
S.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Checking In
So I'm in Himachal, healing from my bout of sickness, and diving right into work. I wish I had more time to write something long, to describe everything I'm seeing, hearing, learning, but I simply can't. Not in one post, not in a quick few minutes. But of course I'm going to try anyway...
My project's been outlined here with JagoriGrameen, and it's a lot of work, and excitingly, a lot of responsibility. I am working with a team of 3 other local Himachalis and the basic jist of our work is to conduct a gap analysis (thanks for the term Rob) to understand the national and Himachal rural health policies that have been implemented and how they differ from what the current situation is in the field (the focus of the analysis will be on women's gynecological health issues). So the project itself has 4 prongs: analysis of the current policies in place, data collection amongst the governmental Primary Health Centres, interviewing women to address their issues/concerns, and developing a health monitoring system. During the next three months, we're running a pilot on this project, in 5 villages. Right now, we're in the pre-research phase, where we're outlining the timelines, frameworks, locations etc.
Besides the specific project, I have had the chance to sit in on some great sessions, trainings, workshops etc. Today, Dr. Pritam, a gynecologist from Jaipor, held a workshop for training barefoot gynecologists in the area of Shapur. Yesterday, I joined Dr. Pritam and a few others in a camp to spread awareness and understanding in a village facing an HIV scare. After Dr. Pritam held the educational session, I had a chance to sit down with the 40-50 women from the area and ask them what their reactions were, what their feelings were about some of the things they learned. Majority of the women had responded by telling me that HIV/AIDs was something they heard about on TV. That they knew that a prostitute in the area had died from it but had no clue how she died, or how she got it. It was the first time they had heard of HIV transmission through sexual intercourse, blood to blood contact, verticle transmission etc. One of the most shocking things to them was the idea of anal sex amongst men...the couldn't fathom the fact that such a concept exists. You know...you read about this in literature, that awareness is so low, but when you really experience it, it really takes you by surprise.
Anywho, I really have to get going, it's getting late and I still need to prepare dinner, boil water, etc. etc. Haha. Yeah, I have no fridge, and make all my own food and am basically the most domestic I have ever been in my entire life. I have two roomates though, two Jagori volunteers from Delhi for another month. I've also befriended my neighbours who have been great! I finally know how to get around and where to go to get everything I need!
Okie dokes, I'll check in again sometime soon now that I know where this cafe is. Hope you're all well. Miss you.
My project's been outlined here with JagoriGrameen, and it's a lot of work, and excitingly, a lot of responsibility. I am working with a team of 3 other local Himachalis and the basic jist of our work is to conduct a gap analysis (thanks for the term Rob) to understand the national and Himachal rural health policies that have been implemented and how they differ from what the current situation is in the field (the focus of the analysis will be on women's gynecological health issues). So the project itself has 4 prongs: analysis of the current policies in place, data collection amongst the governmental Primary Health Centres, interviewing women to address their issues/concerns, and developing a health monitoring system. During the next three months, we're running a pilot on this project, in 5 villages. Right now, we're in the pre-research phase, where we're outlining the timelines, frameworks, locations etc.
Besides the specific project, I have had the chance to sit in on some great sessions, trainings, workshops etc. Today, Dr. Pritam, a gynecologist from Jaipor, held a workshop for training barefoot gynecologists in the area of Shapur. Yesterday, I joined Dr. Pritam and a few others in a camp to spread awareness and understanding in a village facing an HIV scare. After Dr. Pritam held the educational session, I had a chance to sit down with the 40-50 women from the area and ask them what their reactions were, what their feelings were about some of the things they learned. Majority of the women had responded by telling me that HIV/AIDs was something they heard about on TV. That they knew that a prostitute in the area had died from it but had no clue how she died, or how she got it. It was the first time they had heard of HIV transmission through sexual intercourse, blood to blood contact, verticle transmission etc. One of the most shocking things to them was the idea of anal sex amongst men...the couldn't fathom the fact that such a concept exists. You know...you read about this in literature, that awareness is so low, but when you really experience it, it really takes you by surprise.
Anywho, I really have to get going, it's getting late and I still need to prepare dinner, boil water, etc. etc. Haha. Yeah, I have no fridge, and make all my own food and am basically the most domestic I have ever been in my entire life. I have two roomates though, two Jagori volunteers from Delhi for another month. I've also befriended my neighbours who have been great! I finally know how to get around and where to go to get everything I need!
Okie dokes, I'll check in again sometime soon now that I know where this cafe is. Hope you're all well. Miss you.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Old Friend
Mein India ponchi-gi hoon, aur idhir Punjab mein theen dinh ke leeyeh teher ri hoon, and clearly, practicing my grammatically challenged Hindi. Translated (for both those that don't understand hindi and for those who don't particularly understand my hindi-in-practice), I've reached India safe and sound, and am currently staying in Punjab for a few days before venturing to Himachal.
My 18 and some hour flight was interesting to say the least. I met an old friend- err, actually, I made an old friend, an 82 year-old friend to be exact. Joginder Johal is his name and he was born in 1928, officially making him my oldest friend.
I met Joginder prior to departure at the Pearson Airport where my mom, dad, brother and I were chatting after I had checked-in (probably about some emergency protocol for the hundreth time). Joginder was with his family, his daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, and was preparing for his 18 hour flight, which similar to me, he would be undertaking alone. However, unlike me, Mr. Johal didn't speak, read, or write a single word of english. But also unlike me, Mr. Johal, who I soon began to refer to as 'baba ji,' was born and raised in India and had life experiences to share. And so our symbiotic friendship began.
Baba ji and I boarded together and didn't talk much at first. I simply guided him to the correct areas where we would sit together. If someone was speaking to him in english, I translated, and he patted me on the head.
Once we boarded the plane, we seperated to our seats; I was in row 19, baba ji in 23. Since the plane was nearly empty, I had three seats to myself, allowing me to stretch my legs vertically as if I was laying on a bed. Comfortable indeed. Anywho, I put on my iPod, closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep, just as baba ji came and tapped my foot. He gestured for me to move my feet and sat down, putting his bag in the vacant seat between us. After rummaging for a few minutes, baba ji pulled out two rotis with pindhi di subji (naan bread with spread) that his daughter had packed him and handed me one and said, 'kala puth, phir apa ghallah kardeh ah.' So we talked, and we ate, and it became a ritual. Before every meal on the plane, baba ji brought his food over to my seat, before which I had already moved to make some room, and we ate and talked. I helped him open his cases of food. Though he didn't tell me himself, I'm pretty sure he had something similar to, if not, rheumotoid artheritis...it was an autoimmune deficiency we learned about in anatomy/physiology this year. Anyways, after the meal, baba ji would return to his seat, and I would return to my music and thoughts.
This continued for the whole 18 hours, with those on the plane likely thinking we were grandaughter and grandfather. It was fun. I think Joginder Johal was the last piece of the puzzle for me... I mean, up until then, I was physically prepared for the next three months- I had packed my bugspray, sunscreens, emergency mr. noodles. But it really hadn't hit me, it hadn't stuck me that I was infact going to India and not returning for almost four months. Joginder, his stories, and simply his presence, evaporated all of my uncertainties, and made me feel like I was going home.
Anywho, baba ji and I seperated ways, only after we had to change his trolly three times in order to get his luggage across the airport. I met his family, and he said goodbye telling me I was just like a granddaughter. It was nice. He was nice. Maybe we'll cross paths again in Canada one day.
I was greeted at 4:00am Amrtisar time, by my second cousin, his mom, and dad, with whom I'm staying for only a few days. Here, I am gathering some daals, rice, salwaar kamizes (made of cotton only because it is ho-ot) for Himachal, and visiting some family/friends. On the 11th, meaning 3 days from today, I'll be driven up to Himachal on a very scenic route from what I'm told, and will be receivied by colleagues I will be working with.
That's all of the 'what, how, and who' bit, but really, I haven't said anything about how I've been feeling, what the emotional response accompanied by the drastic change in atmosphere has been. To be entirely honest, it hasn't been drastic at all. I've explain to the few close family and friends that I've called back home since arriving to India, that I'm feeling very content, almost at peace with myself. It's a weird feeling, as if India is an old friend, a place that I've left behind and returned to just to pick up where I left off. I feel like I'm supposed to be here and haven't felt the slightest bit of homesickness or culture shock. It's really weird and not what I expected. I honestly think I have more culture shock when I return to McMaster at the beginning of every school year...
Anywho, that's my two cents for now. I'll likely touch base again when I've reached Himachal and meet everyone I'm working with.
Miss you lots,
Sheiry D.
My 18 and some hour flight was interesting to say the least. I met an old friend- err, actually, I made an old friend, an 82 year-old friend to be exact. Joginder Johal is his name and he was born in 1928, officially making him my oldest friend.
I met Joginder prior to departure at the Pearson Airport where my mom, dad, brother and I were chatting after I had checked-in (probably about some emergency protocol for the hundreth time). Joginder was with his family, his daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, and was preparing for his 18 hour flight, which similar to me, he would be undertaking alone. However, unlike me, Mr. Johal didn't speak, read, or write a single word of english. But also unlike me, Mr. Johal, who I soon began to refer to as 'baba ji,' was born and raised in India and had life experiences to share. And so our symbiotic friendship began.
Baba ji and I boarded together and didn't talk much at first. I simply guided him to the correct areas where we would sit together. If someone was speaking to him in english, I translated, and he patted me on the head.
Once we boarded the plane, we seperated to our seats; I was in row 19, baba ji in 23. Since the plane was nearly empty, I had three seats to myself, allowing me to stretch my legs vertically as if I was laying on a bed. Comfortable indeed. Anywho, I put on my iPod, closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep, just as baba ji came and tapped my foot. He gestured for me to move my feet and sat down, putting his bag in the vacant seat between us. After rummaging for a few minutes, baba ji pulled out two rotis with pindhi di subji (naan bread with spread) that his daughter had packed him and handed me one and said, 'kala puth, phir apa ghallah kardeh ah.' So we talked, and we ate, and it became a ritual. Before every meal on the plane, baba ji brought his food over to my seat, before which I had already moved to make some room, and we ate and talked. I helped him open his cases of food. Though he didn't tell me himself, I'm pretty sure he had something similar to, if not, rheumotoid artheritis...it was an autoimmune deficiency we learned about in anatomy/physiology this year. Anyways, after the meal, baba ji would return to his seat, and I would return to my music and thoughts.
This continued for the whole 18 hours, with those on the plane likely thinking we were grandaughter and grandfather. It was fun. I think Joginder Johal was the last piece of the puzzle for me... I mean, up until then, I was physically prepared for the next three months- I had packed my bugspray, sunscreens, emergency mr. noodles. But it really hadn't hit me, it hadn't stuck me that I was infact going to India and not returning for almost four months. Joginder, his stories, and simply his presence, evaporated all of my uncertainties, and made me feel like I was going home.
Anywho, baba ji and I seperated ways, only after we had to change his trolly three times in order to get his luggage across the airport. I met his family, and he said goodbye telling me I was just like a granddaughter. It was nice. He was nice. Maybe we'll cross paths again in Canada one day.
I was greeted at 4:00am Amrtisar time, by my second cousin, his mom, and dad, with whom I'm staying for only a few days. Here, I am gathering some daals, rice, salwaar kamizes (made of cotton only because it is ho-ot) for Himachal, and visiting some family/friends. On the 11th, meaning 3 days from today, I'll be driven up to Himachal on a very scenic route from what I'm told, and will be receivied by colleagues I will be working with.
That's all of the 'what, how, and who' bit, but really, I haven't said anything about how I've been feeling, what the emotional response accompanied by the drastic change in atmosphere has been. To be entirely honest, it hasn't been drastic at all. I've explain to the few close family and friends that I've called back home since arriving to India, that I'm feeling very content, almost at peace with myself. It's a weird feeling, as if India is an old friend, a place that I've left behind and returned to just to pick up where I left off. I feel like I'm supposed to be here and haven't felt the slightest bit of homesickness or culture shock. It's really weird and not what I expected. I honestly think I have more culture shock when I return to McMaster at the beginning of every school year...
Anywho, that's my two cents for now. I'll likely touch base again when I've reached Himachal and meet everyone I'm working with.
Miss you lots,
Sheiry D.
Friday, April 16, 2010
It's Salmon Day
Lost as ever, I continued reading with lines of confusion imprinted on my forehead, and a friend on the side waiting for a reaction.
"Salmon Day, it's the experience of swimming upstream all day just to be caught and eaten at the end."
After a few seconds of processing what I had just read, I laughed- and really hard too. How this card about fish, managed to sum up my life, smack me with the reality of India in 2.5wks, all while making me giggle like a school girl, well, I don't even know. Clearly- clearly, it was a damn good card.
Being a salmon is a choice, and I think it's a choice I like to make everyday. But let me tell you, it's not always the feel good route. Usually, it's isolating, filled with conflict, and emotionally draining. Then what the heck is the point? Well, rather then focusing on all the negatives, I think it's important to keep your eye on the lessons that you couldn't have learned otherwise.
Choosing Himachal as my destination, where it is new, unfamiliar, and without family or friends, (I think I realized after reading the card) is simply an attempt at being a salmon and challenging myself. It will be difficult, there is no doubt about that, but I'd rather look past all of that and focus on the journey that I am about to embark on, and what I'm about to learn.
So just a bit of background if you haven't had any before...
As a part of my Specialization in Global Health at McMaster U, and my contract with Loran, I am required to do a placement abroad (community development related for Loran, and Global Health related for McMaster). This led me to combine the two into a community-development-global-health-related summer. Essentially that brings me to Himachal Pradesh, Northern India, working with a small NGO named JagoriGrameen. The NGO itself works in various areas with marginalized populations in surrounding villages, but what I find most fascinating is the holistic approach that it takes in doing so. By focusing on fundamental areas such as education, healthcare, agriculture, empowerment etc., Jagori understands the multi-faceted idea of quality of life, and how multi-dimensional it is truly is. Anywho, that could get me into a whole other rant...back to Himachal. I will personally be working on a few projects with a healthcare focus, which from my understanding will vary from developing a health monitoring system to helping in the organization of Well Women's Week, a health conference held for women of the local villages. Regardless of the specific work (which I am almost positive is bound to change), I'm excited for a healthcare experience with a cultural lens attached.
So! So, I say, everyday is Salmon Day. But May 4th is particularly important- that's the day I start one of my longer journey's up stream, and something tells me that it isn't going to end on August 21st when I return to Canada.
Himachal and the Himalayas, here I come- once of course I get Anatomy, Stats, and Cell Bio out of the way...
Sheiry D.
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