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.
Monday, May 31, 2010
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.
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