are you serving me tea or malice?

The weather is increasingly hot and almost unbearable; however, I have learned to avoid anymore serious run-ins with the mosquitoes. THANK GOD! I have been busy at times, and not so busy at other times, so I apologize for slacking on my blog. Life is crazy like that, some of the most reliable people do the most unreliable things…Let me give you all a brief update as to my experiences here in India…Things have been difficult for me the past couple of days….I would say, I have learned more about the Indian culture in the past three weeks, than my entire stay here in India. A good example of this would be at lunch yesterday at Winnie’s house. Winnie’s youngest sister, Tinu, came to visit her and Ninnie, (Winnie’s eldest sister who is a doctor) as well as their 86 year old father. For the past couple of days, when I am not working at the centre, I have been tagging along with them to different places in Delhi. Yesterday, after a long day helping Tinu find gifts for her family back home and trudging along the sidewalks of the dozens of stores in the smoldering heat, we headed back to Winnie’s for lunch. As usual, Winnie always has a beautiful spread of what we simple Americans would call ‘lavish’. The General, Ninnie, Tinu, and Winnie, along with myself sat down to eat our lunch. Something I have always noticed is that when serving around the table the servants always skip me, and serve me close to last or last. Now, I wouldn’t mind this, as I don’t usually care about these things, (unless I am at home and mom serves Jessica before me), but it always seems as if they (the servants) go out of their way to do this, as I have noticed this happen on many occasions. I don’t know if it was the heat that had gotten to my head, or the frustration at not understanding why Shumshear (that is the head servant) skipped me when it would seem the only reasonable thing to do but to set the cup of tea next to my plate, but I was not having it this time, so very politely I asked the table: “I have always tried to be extra nice to the staff here, but I feel that, specifically, Shumshear doesn’t like me, I know this sounds petty, but I always notice that he skips me and serves me last.” There was silence at the table, and then Winnie and Ninnie started laughing. I immediately wanted to take back what I said, my mouth has always been my biggest downfall…(why did I have to ask, I thought to myself) After they stopped laughing they explained to me that everytime tea, in particular, is served, they serve mine the way I like it best, extra sweet and creamy, where as everyone else has their’s not sweet and much stronger.

My mind was expecting the worst out of someone, when in actuality; this individual was going out of their way to please me. There have been many moments in my life where I want to insert my foot into my mouth, but never have I had the urge to really bend down and bite all five toes! In my country were someone to do as Shumshear, we would think to ourselves, ‘why did he do that’. But in India, it is common knowledge that everyone’s tea is served a specific way, as the General says, in India, "we specialize in specialization"…. Perhaps in certain places back home this too is the case, but most of the time, if someone is serving tea, the host serves the same thing to everyone. Of course the elders are served first, this is par for the course at my home as well, but usually, we serve in the order of who is next to the person we just last served. Well, if that doesn’t beat all, then I don’t know what else does. I must say that being away from my home and my way of life has been an eye-opener as to how others live their lives. I know that the subject of being served first as opposed to last merely seems petty and not worth mentioning, but to me, this was the best and shortest way to explain that simple things like the order in which tea is served, can cause an individual, such as myself, to become confused and even a little offended. It is not always a very pleasant experience, that is, learning to understand other people's way of life, but it definitely is something that everyone must experience. There have been so many of these “experiences” that I can’t write them all down, and most would probably bore you, for most of the time we barely notice our mannerisms until we experience something that doesn’t resemble what we are most familiar with.

We all want to believe that the way we live our lives is the best way in which we know to do it, so many times when we encounter others that live their lives differently from ours, we are either tempted to make suggested improvements, or we shy away from those that do not resemble what is most familiar to us. Perhaps it is because we fear what we don't know, or maybe it is because it is more comfortable to be ignorant than to be enlightened to life's infinite possibilities. It can be too overwhelming for some to even imagine all life's possibilities. It is never easy to evaluate our inner-selves, and even less easy to admit to our imperfections. For the first time, I am starting to understand the importance of my own individuality and my willingness to question uniformity. Yet, I am also learning to address my own fears and prejudices, for we all have them.

"Our deepest fears and prejudices hide in the remote depths of our souls, only to be seen at the most opportune moment."-K

I am who I am~K

When He gives us gifts, we sometimes forget to notice them....

The temperatures here in Delhi us like that of a furnace. Every time I step outside, the heat attempts to bake me into a crisp brownie; while mosquitoes think I AM a chocolate brownie!!!! Both sets of arms, legs, and feet have borne the brunt of their feast. The bug spray I purchased from the states happens to be their favorite flavor, so I have opted to trash the “OFF” and purchase the heavy duty “Odomos” that is the mosquito repellant of choice for local Indians, but if I may be perfectly honest, I fear that Indian mosquitoes just like the taste of American blood. As the long dark brown arms of summer close in on India, so to does the increase of inversion, power outages, traffic, and new species of bugs…. especially the mosquito!

I have finally cranked the AC up to full blast at Som Vihar, and run all fans in every room to keep some air circulating throughout the house. I have always thought that Texas and Arizona were the hottest places on Earth, yet India has decided to set me straight for the record, it seems now, India is the hottest place! I have grown used to sweat sliding down my back, arms, and forehead, and one grows thankful for that small bit of moisture. In India, as I have mentioned before, one grows thankful for the small gifts in life, such the ability to sweat, as we so many times forget the small gifts God gave us. He really did think of everything!

Work at the centre in Ekta Vihar has been a little slow since, I made an unexpected trip down to the South of India in a state called Goa. (please take a look at all my pictures on the far right) I did A LOT of ngo networking for Maitri as well as A LOT of sightseeing, swimming, and writing. Goa is a place unbeknownst to many, yet, once one has entered into its’ magical realm, one can’t understand why…. As my plane began its’ entrance from the thick sheet of clouds that cloaked the capital city of Goa, Panaji, I was struck by the magnificence of the jungle and the sparkling jewels that seemed to float on the top of the Arabian Sea that lines the coast of the state. Once I exited the plane and took the bus to the airport, I was met by the driver that would be taking me to all my destinations throughout my stay. One of the first things I noticed about Panaji, and Goa for that matter is the rich history that the Portuguese left behind after nearly 4 ½ centuries of rule. Mixed with the local culture of Goa is a rich Portuguese Catholic culture that is seen in the architecture, religion, and food. Small sanctuaries honoring the Blessed Virgin and the Crusifix lined the roads, city streets, and were present in the lone spice fields that scattered the country side and in between cities. In most sections and corners of this world, religion continues to be the source of many wars, fights, deaths, and evil, yet in this secluded, almost mysterious place, the Hindus, Sikhs, Catholics, Muslims, and any other faith present honored eachother. Whether I visited someone’s home, business, school, or just a public area there was communion of cultures and spirituality. Where one would see the Blessed Virgin and Her Son, one too would see Ganesh, Shiva, Guru Nanak, and the local Gods and Goddesses of the Goan people sitting side by side as if they where family members hanging on the wall at home. While I am a devout Christian, and at that, a Catholic, I was so proud to see such unity and acceptance in this mystical place. Catholic churches, cathedrals, monuments, and art crowed every available space in Goa as if they too had grown naturally like the coconut trees, lilies, and bunion trees, but it wasn’t the manmade structures that demanded one look with wonder, or the sacred places throughout the island, but the life in which carried on around these brilliant structures. People from every walk of life cluttered the streets, while cars, horses, monkeys, bikes, and small school children moved with a purpose to their perspective location. In the early mornings I would watch the mothers in their traditional dress walking their young girls and boys dressed smartly in crisp pinafore dresses or nicely creased trousers and ties. Nuns carefully guarded their flocks of girls and boys to their morning masses and classes, as fishermen loaded their early morning catch into large buckets of ice. In the air, coconuts, fish, fresh flowers, sea water, and sweat scented the air with a unique and yet familiar smell…life! While every place has its’ own distinct smell, the scent of Goa will forever be in my memory….While God blesses us everyday with small gifts, that many times we forget to notice, it never ceases to amaze me at the large gifts, such as Goa, that we also fail to miss as well.

~with love, there are infinite possibilites~

The General took Winnie and I to his ancestral home in Neriit yesterday. I woke up at 6:30 a.m. to make sure that I was ready for our 7:00 a.m. departure. Neriit is two hours outside of the city in the country. Having heard many stories of the General’s childhood, and even more about his home, I was eager to make the trip. The General and his older brother own the house, and the estate is split equally by both brothers. His mother, who is 86 lives there as well, and is taken care of by her daughter-in-law. We passed through many little shanty towns on our way to Neriit; the countryside is a refreshing change from the trash heaps that claim much of the streets and sidewalks of Delhi. We passed by men, women, and children riding in horse drawn carts filled to the brim with fresh produce and on one occasion, even a couple of children racing on horses along the roadside. Ancient ruins were scattered throughout the trip, and at times, I felt as if I were in a moving time machine only stopping at points to slowly maneuver over bumps in the road. When we entered the town, the first thing I noticed was the lushness that surrounded the town. Though people moved hurriedly in a hustle bustle kind of way, the blaring of car horns and rickshaws was absent. After a couple more turns and passing the old railroad tracks, we entered a small private road that stopped at the end with a large iron black gate. The driver honked twice and the gates slowly opened….I didn’t know what to expect, for the gate itself was impressive, but nothing prepared me for the feast my eyes had for the General’s home. There was a neatly trimmed yard that was encased on all four sides with seas of roses, lilies, and palm trees. Every leaf had a specific place, and every flower was at full attention, almost as if they knew the General was coming to inspect. We drove up to the terrace which was completely encased in green and gold marble. A long porch was lined with large white stone pillars, and the house itself was a pristine white. Just one look could not do the General’s house justice, I spent the rest of the day roaming the gardens and peeking at the cows. I later learned, the General’s mother has a passion for roses, as she stated many times throughout my visit, “roses are my friends, they never leave you.” At one time in her life, she had a commercial business in which she exported roses all over the world, but now, as the General later explained to me, the roses are just for his mother, as her mind as departed from our world and vacationed to earlier times. Later on that day, I slowly walked with her to her favorite place in the rose garden in which many years ago, she used to sit and watch the workers packing her roses to be shipped. I had a lovely time meeting and talking with Winnie, the General, his brother, sister-in-law, and younger sister. Their company was most entertaining. So after a hearty meal and as much adventuring throughout the property I could take, we packed up the car, said our goodbyes, and headed home with a trunk full of fresh vegetables and plants form the gardens.

For the last couple of days rain has visited Delhi in sporadic sheets of rain and hail, but just as quickly as it arrives, it departs in the same manner. With the increase of moisture and ‘pani’ (hindi for water) mud is everywhere. So when we arrived at Ekta Vihar today, my jutties immediately became caked with a dark sludgy colored mud, which eventually made its’ way through the soles and onto my clean feet….Having stepped out of Sonal’s little compact black car, I felt the heat great me with the dancing of sweat drops sliding down my back and neck. With soggy feet and a sweaty body, I hopped along the dry stones to our center. Donna, a doctor/photographer took some more pictures of the slum for us to use in our presentations and funding proposals for the UN and US Aid. As usual, the children swarmed around us like “a hive of honey bees.” As we progressed deeper into Ekta Vihar, again, more attention was drawn to us, and children pulled on my shawl and hands happily begging me to take their picture. But…a sense of guilt squeezed my heart when I thought about bringing a camera, I felt in some way I was betraying their innocent trust and perhaps, in a way, using them for my own benefit. While I want to document the life of the slums, I also want to respect the privacy and sacredness that is life here in Ekta Vihar. It is my belief that while it is important for us to document the struggle, so that people can’t block this from their minds, it is also vital to preserve these individual’s dignity. After all, we were intruding on their territory, taking pictures of their life. It can be unnerving to have foreign people with no know real understanding of their situation in poverty happily shoot photographs, in many ways oblivious to what is being captured. Something about sharing some of my moments seems wrong, as if I am committing a sin. I feel so protective of these people and their dignity that I can’t bare to see someone who doesn’t understand their beauty to turn their nose up at them or worse, to judge. So, it is my decision that many of my experiences at the slums will not be documented in pictures, due in part to establish a trust with the community, but also in respect for their dignity and their privacy. I am here in India to help promote empowerment, not to make myself look good by posing with the people I am supposedly “saving”…..If I must be brutally honest, they have “saved” me in a sense, for while I probably will never experience their particular situation, I have come to realize love is in so many forms of life, and material items are truly not the signs of love…. Love is the smiles on the children’s faces, perhaps a warm bed, or even clean water….maybe a cool breeze or the sounds of a mother singing to her child. With love, there are infinite possibilities…… I have been saved by love and with that, I bid you all a goodnight. ~K

~A city within a city~

The weather in Delhi is becoming increasingly muggy and hot. By the end of each day, I must peel my salwar from my sweaty skin. When I first arrived to India, I noticed that in any business or house that I entered fans were located in each room, sometimes more than one fan per room. I was curious to this, as the weather was quite pleasant, even chilly at times, it was difficult for me to understand what was coming. Yet, now, it makes perfect sense as to the number of fans throughout the buildings of Delhi. Regardless of air-conditioning, if one steps out of the cool path of manmade air, instantly the heat snakes around one’s body and forces the sweat to run freely from everywhere.

Work at Ekta Vihar is picking up; I have organized a professional seamstress to come during the week for four hours daily. We are purchasing eight more sewing machines because we realized after putting the two sewing machines we bought from Nehru Centre market that more women would want to learn. So, the two top rooms at Ekta Vihar will be converted into sewing rooms, and we will provide our training services free of charge to the women. At the end of the training course, we will make available a test for them to take in which they can become professionally certified seamstresses.

Last week I spent a substantial amount of time walking through the narrow pathways of Ekta Vihar. I had never traveled so deep into this slum before, and with the assistance of a guide I was able to get a better understanding of my working environment and the situations that many of this community experience. The slums of Delhi are a city within a city. Once one passes the little corner store off the main road across from Som Vihar, they have entered into the pulsing heart of the slum itself. People, horses, dogs, monkeys, and cows liter the walkways, all seeming to be going somewhere important. It makes one wonder where they all come from, as the slum is so small, yet so populated with people. Children occupy their time by shooting marbles, rolling old flat tires with sticks, or using old pieces of trash to play make-believe. On almost every side walk way I turned down, there were at least three to four handmade cots situated underneath the eaves of the teetering buildings. Old women and men slept or observed the ceremony of life from their sagging beds in which they shared with the flies. On one occasion, I saw an older women with about five brand new baby chicks nestled in an old woolen blanket clutched to her side. As I walked deeper into the community, I saw women sitting on straw woven mats smoking the hookah or casting die, and mothers vigorously scrubbing their naked children with soap using buckets full of water to dump unceremoniously over the child’s head. Each narrow pathway is cobbled in uneven stone with a gutter on both sides. On the right side, clear waters runs quickly through the curvy channels carved out, pooling at select locations in a small stone trough in which the women, young girls, and children gather their bathing and drinking water. On the left side, a murky brown water bubbles and gurgles its way out onto the street or simply stands stagnant until it either evaporates or finds its’ way onto the street or nearby river. I have asked Sonal how this water system works, however, she herself, was confused as to its’ mechanisms. I do know that both forms of water are extremely toxic and unsafe for anyone to drink or use. When I walked through these areas, I brought unwanted attention to myself, as it was clear I was foreign to this environment. My crisply clean and ironed pink salwar kameez and sweetly smelling duparta brought curious glances and children pulling on the ends of my shawl. If I was not stared at directly, I was followed by the local troupe of children. They continuously asked for me to take their picture, and wanted me to shoot marbles with them. It is hard to say no to such sweet children, but it definitely made my task of gathering information about the area much more difficult. By the end of the day, I was sweaty, hot, and extremely exhausted. My eyes ached with all the things I saw, my head ached from inhaling pure pollution and filth, my feet hurt from walking in sandals, and my head itched from phantom itches. Ekta Vihar and other slums like it are the only places in Delhi, were one can see death, illness, birth, marriage, and starvation on one street. It leaves the individual experiencing such a place empty and exhausted. While these people may not have much in the material sense, they lack nothing in the soulful sense. They are full of life, and very few look bitter, yet their faces show the telltale signs of an extremely hard life. Their hand to mouth existence is a situation in which many know nothing about, and also in which many know something about. It is not enough to give money to an open hand that begs for it, or to feed a hungry belly, but more importantly to teach a person to earn their own money and harvest their own food. Sustainability is success, looking for quick fixes is ineffective and causes more harm than damage. ~K

~the sky has high tea with life~

As I drove to Ekta Vihar (slum area) today we passed two men diligently cleaning two large tall glass window doors. They stood on one teetering bamboo ladder as they skillfully wiped the windows to nonexistence. The sky met the glass and both faded into eachother. It was such an amazing illusion, as if the sky were stepping in for high tea. I lost myself in the clear blue reflection of the glass and the sky, the sky and the glass, mind began to rewind to about seventeen or eighteen years ago. Michaela and I couldn’t have been more than five or six. Her and Tesse were moving away, and I was so sad….Uncle Joel and my dad were moving boxes down the stairs of the house to the moving van while Michaela, Tesse, and I raced up and down the stairs. “Hey, you guys, stop that!” uncle Joel yelled, but we were too busy competing to beat eachother that we weren’t paying attention. Tesse, stayed back while Michaela and I raced at a dead speed to the doors below. A large tall door at the east of us was clear ahead, and on the last three steps we both vaulted towards it….As we sailed for the open air outside to claim our rightful first place, we both collided with a solid unforgiving surface…The glass on the large tall window we so hastily mistook for a door threw both of us to a crumpled ball of legs, arms, and aching bottoms. The pain and surprise from the contact of unrelenting glass made my head spin, I think I saw stars. I can remember us both looking at eachother and without words communicating, “we shouldn’t have run down the stairs.” We both sat there contemplating if we were going to cry about our injury, but instead, we joined our hands and pulled eachother up. Perhaps it was fear of retribution from our parents for acting wild, or perhaps we didn’t want to hear “I told you so,” but regardless of the reason, Michaela and I never told anyone. She squeezed my hand as we slowly walked back up the stairs to where Tesse stood. I allowed the aching pain of the accident to course through my body without allowing it to voice my body’s aggravation…. Yet, I wanted to cry so bad because it hurt, but Michaela, always the brave one, shook her head and pulled me unceremoniously past our parents. It is now almost eighteen years later that our simple folly has some great learning potential, even if it is a little later on in life. As in all my experiences, this one has just another marker on my life’s journey. At five, the concept of pain is something associated with bandaids, warm arms to comfort you, or a spoonful of the yummy pink syrup kept on the top shelf in the frige. Now at the ripe age of 22, pain has taught me that sometimes the wounds are too large for a bandaid, or worse not able to be seen by the eye, warm arms aren’t always close by, and the pinky syrup was more sugar than medicine. Yet, as I held a three month old baby today in the slums of Ekta Vihar, I realized that pain as so many other things in life, is relative, for when God has made the miracle of life, no matter how bad something hurts, one can’t deny the beauty of life, it has high tea with us everyday regardless if there is any tea to be had….Life can’t be perfect, it was never meant to be, but it certainly can be amazing, painful, fun, boring, happy, and sad, all at once, and frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am thankful that I wake up everyday, and I am even more thankful that the most obscure things remind me of my childhood, of family, and of love. If ever lonely, I have those small treasures to hold close, it is what keeps me going and allows me to never feel too alone….May all us find the doorway that meets the sky~K

rugs, saris, and more rugs!!!!!!!

Today we went to the president of India’s mansion. I can not construct an appropriate sentence to explain the beauty of the building and the gardens surrounding it. It is extremely difficult to get tours through these buildings, but Winnie, my ongoing and ever present hero was able to convince the secretary of the president that we MUST see this… Much like we have the white house in the states, I call this the red house, for the president’s mansion is one huge red rock home. It is three to four times as big as the white house, and with so much character. Unfortunately due to increased security, we were unable to take any for of camera or cell phone on the premises. I have been told that if one were to break the rules, the penalty would be deportation….enough said on this matter. After leaving the group to shop Delhi more, I left with Sonal, Winnie, Ted, Tom, to purchase medicine for the trip to Kotwara which will then be distributed to the three hundred children that live in the remote village town. Winnie was able to arrange for a pharmacist to visit her home to make the purchasing process easier for Ted and Tom, (who is a family practitioner from Connecticut). We then trekked across the city to an local grassroots NGO to get some information on HIV/AIDS prevention. I was so glad to go because there were so many resources that I could use for research. I was so motivated there, it is doing things such as this that make me realize that my future lies somewhere in the social sector….Today, the weather as continued to reflect that of Monsoon season, however, I can’t complain, I am always suffering from being too hot, so the cool rain fresh air was a treat.

Later on that night….Winnie took us to the most wonderful shop in which one of her close friends has the finest cashmere and silk rugs. The owner’s name is Wikki and he is one of the kindest men I have met here in India. (of course not as kind as the General, wink wink) He took almost fifty percent off all of his goods for us. I have taken pictures of some of the rugs in hopes that I can tempt my mother to purchase one for our home in Texas. Then, after an amazing time, in which, I was taught to weave a rug with cashmere, Wikki prepared a feast of food fit for a king. He not only fed Winnie, Sonal and the rest of our Maitri gang, but also all twenty six of the University of Utah students as well. Tonight was definitely one of the most amazing experiences I have had shopping wise since arriving to Delhi. Too bad I don’t have any money. Yet, even though I was only able to look, I was still able to have such a good time. I am of the belief that a goodtime is what one makes of it. With that said, I bid you goodnight~K

from yesterday....soaking feet but happy as a lark!

My feet are rain soaked and covered in pasty mud from the city’s dirty streets. I have happily spent the day trekking through the old shopping centre of Delhi with the new arrivals from the University of Utah. They are a group of students traveling to Kotwara (which is a small village in the jungle, they will be building a school). I must admit that at first I was apprehensive to share my India with them. India does that to you, it makes you possessive and protective as a mother with her child. Once the city’s breathe has been inhaled, a piece of it is stuck in your soul, you are a part of it, and it is a part of you….India is not just a shape on a map with political lines stating what belongs to whom and whom belongs to what. It is a country of faces, stories, tears, laughter, sadness, happiness, dirt, silk, and grim….India is mine, and like all things that belong to me, I am careful with whom I share it with. Yet, my apprehension was for the most part unnecessary. The group is down to earth and eager to learn all there is to know about Delhi and the surrounding Indian states. I must tell you, it was actually quite refreshing to be able to show them everything that I have written about. I took them to Ekta Vihar, Lodi Gardens, and lastly Vasant Vihar. By the time that we were finished, the time was past 11:00 p.m. and we were soaked from the surprise rain storm that chose to gift us with wet clothes, muddy feet, and a chill. However, the experiences we had that evening will be something that I feel all of us will never forget. 17 additional students, five rickshaws, two local buses, and a cold walk in the dark is close to an Indian wedding welcome. ~K

~happy holi~

Someone very special once told me that one of the most beautiful sights in the world is that of a child learning… I must agree that seeing that twinkle present in the eye of a child as they learn is one of the most precious and rewarding moments for anyone in the presence of this miracle. And, learning is just that…A MIRACLE. However, I would like to add that when someone older learns something new for the first time, it too is just as beautiful. Two days ago, I saw that same twinkle, that same light in the eyes of a sixty year old woman, who learned how to use a sewing machine for the first time. Two days ago, fifteen women lit the room with their determination and fascination for learning. Those simple things that we take fore granted, and in which I talk about frequently, once again came to my mind as I watched the women these women soak up all the knowledge they could for threading the machine, and stitching straight lines as they pumped the wheel on the sewing machine. Two days ago, I saw the twinkle of learning in the eyes of a sixty year old woman as she watched the sewing instructor teacher her how to cut out pillow patters without a pattern. Two days ago, I felt like the proud mother as she watches her child take her first step, or read her first sentence all by herself. To watch someone in the process of growing/learning is a miracle and gift from God…

Things are looking up for Asha Setu, we have officially opened the centre, and are in the process of already expanding to a larger building in Sonia Vihar, which is located on the other side of the block. I haven’t yet told you about this, but the General was able to use some of his connections to get the local government to offer up some public property to help us with more working space for Asha Setu. Once we finish the Conference, I can focus 100% on the centre. We are going to try and get more sewing machines and raise more money for the other centre that we have.

It seems that when the holidays come around so too do deadlines, final papers, and bills. With that said, tomorrow is the beginning of a big Indian holiday, Holi, and we are just FIVE days away from our big conference. So, not only are we rushing to get everything in order for the conference, but also to get finished for the big celebrations that are coming up. I wish I could explain in detail why exactly they celebrate Holi, however, I can tell you that it is about families and friends being together and enemies shaking hands and calling peace for a couple of days. I wish everyday was Holi! To celebrate this wonderful holiday everyone prepares for days before the initial festivities by cooking and concocting a red dye liquid in which everyone throws at eachother on Holi. The city will be an entire red mess for two days as pedestrians and those unfortunate to have their car window down get pelted with red liquid dye by young children and youth. Now to some of you, this may seem horrible, but here, it is culture and a fun way of celebrating life and all its’ wonders. I have been warned to make sure I take an enclosed car during these couple of days to protect myself from unwanted coloring. I am excited, but most definitely cautious, as Winnie has warned me against some of the mixtures of color that can be extremely harmful to one’s skin due to the toxins some people put in the liquid to make it more red. Phil, Matt, and I have been invited to celebrate Holi with Sonal’s in-laws due to the dangers of public celebrations and toxic dye, and also because we are the best interns (wink to Sonal)! We will play with organic natural colors…. I have a couple of people in mind for my hit-list (SONAL!!!!SONJAY). I am most certain that my sisters and brother would love this holiday. We would all have a ball throwing color at eachother without getting in trouble for it! Perhaps my mom will be up to adopting the holiday when I get back?!

To give you a better update on the Conference, Joe Thomas from FXB and Sanjay, our director in Shillong, have come to prepare us for the Conference. For the past couple of days, we all have been working our tail ends off with preparing the last minute details for this shindig. I am just ready for it to be done, but I can’t wait to hear all the great speakers that will be speaking on Universal Access and HIV/AIDS. I could go on and on about this topic, but I won’t, however, for all of you who are curious about what Universal Access is and what you can do to help please leave a request for further information, and I will send you our conference brochure electronically.

Also, please check out the e-forum link I have posted on the top right of my blog. Some of the leading experts in this field contribute to the discussions, and by being a member of the forum, you can find out what is going on with the movement to stop to the spread of HIV/AIDS. [checkout the new pics]~K

hall your bags of grain to the front door and be wealthy....

There once was a man, he was a good man, and though he was not wealthy, neither was he poor. One day this man was praying to God when suddenly He appeared. “Do not be afraid my child,” God said. The man in shock jumped back, “have I done something to fall out of your favor God?” God smiled and slowly shook His head ‘no’. “I have come to grant you one wish.” The man, still suffering from the first bout of shock collapsed. “What have I done to deserve such a gift?” he breathlessly asked. God replied, “you have always prayed to me and been devoted, you have lived a good life and though I rarely ever do these types of things, I have decided to grant you one wish, what ever that wish may be.” The man filled with anticipation and excitement stepped closer, thoughts of all the wishes he had in his life flashed through his mind. Suddenly the man shouted, “I want to be the richest man in the world!” With a smile on His face God said, “your wish has been granted, return to your home, and there you will find three bags of grain. As long as you live, these bags will never be empty, and you will never want for food.” Then just as He appeared, God disappeared. Once the man was able to come out of his state of shock, he began to grow angry with God. How could God trick him to think that wealth was three endless bags of grain? The man angrily walked home furious with God for the trick He had played on him. So the years passed, and though the three bags of grain never were empty, the man was never satisfied. Finally, the man was dying, and while lying on his deathbed, God again appeared to him. The man, though ill as he was, rose from his bed and angrily yelled at God, “you promised me wealth, but you tricked me with three bags of never-ending grain. What happened to the wealth that you promised me?” cried the man. God calmly said, “oh but child, I did give you wealth, those three bags of grain have never been empty, and you have always had more than you needed, yet when your neighbors were hungry you never offered any of your surplus to them. When the homeless and hungry children begged for food you coldly turned them away. I had given you plenty of times to use the grain I gave you to do with what you wanted. Instead of sharing with those who had little, you let anger and resentment fill your heart. Little did you know, that if you had given of what you had, those neighbors would have returned the favor when they got back on their feet three times over, while those that were hungry and homeless too would have returned your kindness in many other ways that would have advanced your wealth, had you just used what you had to offer…When you give to others, you get more than you give.”

This is a Sikh story that was told to my by Winnie. At the time, it was poignant, yet its true meaning didn’t hit me until today. So many times, I realized, I worry about not having enough shampoo or enough toothpaste. God forbid that I run out of Mac makeup, or that there isn’t enough chocolate for me to have seconds…..So, in order to feel secure and ‘fulfilled’, I buy more than is needed, I eat more than is needed…. This way, when I need it, it will be there. Not unlike other people, the feeling of ‘not having enough’ or ‘not getting enough’ terrifies us. We want to make sure that we have enough, so in our need to be prepared, we over spend, overeat, and over use. And by the time we realize that we can’t fill the void, we are either in debt, overweight, friendless, or all three…So, after we have read all the self-help books we can read, and when we actually start listening to the Man Upstairs, do we realize that all those unnecessary things we have been attempting to stuff in the void were all wrong… What our soul, yes soul, needed all along was….duh! soul food…. No, not the kind from mama’s kitchen, unless it was her sound advice, but the kind of soul food that comes from giving, from believing in something more than any material item, from praying and giving thanks for the blessings we receive everyday… All of a sudden, Winnie’s story makes sense to me. Instead of being a pleasant story, it was a wake up call for me. Sometimes it is so obvious that we must give, like me working in the slums and feeding the hungry children. But other times, it is less obvious and more subtle. We must always be willing to give to someone who has less than us. God has made us all wealthy, it is just our choice in how we use that wealth. When you have a little extra, or a lot extra for that matter, would it hurt to share with someone who doesn’t have an extra this or that? Don’t suspect that everyone is out for a free ride, while there are those that will use you, there are so many more that need you. These past couple of weeks for me have been wonderful and sad all at once. I see happiness, and I see pain. I realize that many times, we humans are full of self-importance, not that we aren't important, but it is hard for us to see other people's importance when all we see is our own. So today, and from this day forward, I will scoot my bags of grain to the front door of my home, and let no woman/child/man who passes go hungry.

On a different note, our National conference is just one week away. We are all rushing here and there to get everything prepared for the big day. I have learned more about using computers and their confounded programs than all three and a half years of college! I am looking forward to a change of pace once this chaotic event is finished. Things are a little slower in regards to my slum clinic. We are short of funds and hands. HOWEVER, I know that God will see us through this rough spot and provide us with the things that we need. He already has shone me that He will never let me fall from His protection, just a week ago, the government gave us a bigger building for Asha Setu just a block away. Not only that, but they have agreed to pay for remodeling and reconstruction of the land surrounding the buildings as well.

I will be traveling to Shillong later on this month after the conference is done to go through an orientation for working at Maitri's other work cites in the North of India. Besides working long hours at Maitri, I have had little chance to see the country, however, Winnie has promised to remedy this once things slow down a little more after the pending conference. I am looking forward to this.

The weather here is ever-changing, and it has taken its' tole on me. My body temperature rises and falls much like the weather itself. Indian weather can be tricky like that, or so says, Sonal and Winnie. The curious thing is that the weather has been cool and nice. I can never figure out myself when it comes to these things. I am just too complicated. So, until my body figures out what temperature it wants to be, I will continue to carry a shawl and a fan to keep me warm or cool.

I have been doing alot of cooking for the General since coming here. Much to Winnie's dismay, he has put on a couple of pounds since. I am also teaching their cook, Shanti, how to prepare these dishes as well. They want to have American food, so I have made a number of American dishes such as: twice-baked potatoes, chicken-pot-pie, chocolate cake, apple fritters, and country butter biscuits... It is funny how I have always considered myself an insufficient cook, but all those visits to Grandma Shirley's have paid off. Almost everything I know about cooking has come from her, mostly because she was the only one who had the patience to teach a very impatient pupil. I always think of her when I make strawberry shortcake and apple pie. So, when I am feeling the most homesick, cooking, not eating (can you believe that?!), helps me think of those I love the most.... I miss you very much Grandma Shirley and all the rest of you...Until the next blog, hall your grain bags to the front door people~K

plastic is precious....but so it chocolate.

My sophomore year of college, I took a women’s studies class. One particular topic, which happened to be my favorite, was about a woman’s need to bitch… Pardon my French; however, for any woman that is reading this, you know at times this is so true. HOWEVER, the second part to the topic surrounds the fact that men, many times, don’t understand this complex necessity of bitching, instead they want to give us solutions to our problems… What we, or shall I say I, (since I don’t know how all women feel), need is a man to listen without offering his solutions….Not that solutions are bad things, but when a woman really needs to get it out of her, one of the ways to do it is the traditional bitch session…With this said, yesterday I was in need of one of these sessions, but unfortunately, I was lacking on the extra estrogen and couple of pairs of this and that which would be needed for this. I have two guy roommates, and while this is not a bad thing, which believe me it isn’t….It can be a little depressing when one needs some bitch relief only to have to hold it in… Not to mention there was a scarcity of chocolate, Lifetime, and/or bubbles and a tub. AND if I did decide to include them in some female bonding, I think I would scare them to the next plane out of Delhi…. Around the time I was feeling 500 degree flames scorching off my back and head, I found my self squooshed in between my two roommates in a rickshaw on our way to Vasant Vihar. As usual, the driver was careening through the traffic, and we seemed to hit every possible rut, and mud puddle that Delhi has….I felt myself headed towards a major explosion. This is when I began employing the special breathing technique that Winnie’s yoga instructor taught me to use … “breathe in….let it out ahhhummmmm!” Still not working……So I looked out the rickshaw window so the guys wouldn’t have to see my pout, this is when I saw a guy naked from the waist down relieving himself against a wall on the street…..(thank God it was dark) Between gasping and turning my head the other way, I had an epiphany of sorts. While a, let’s say, “session” was long overdue, I was going to have to improvise…I needed a positive plan of action, so taking a deep breath I made myself say out-loud ten good things that happened to me that day. (I know it is corny, but I was desperate!) The guys liking the idea, decided to help me out… So I will share with you our list of things to be thankful for…

1. Jesus died for me on the cross…
2. I woke up today.
3. I had bathing water (even though it was ice cold and in a bucket!!!)
4. We had a perfectly clear blue sky for the first time since coming to India.
5. I actually ate some Indian food that I liked at dinner.
6. We were able to access the internet
7. We didn’t get ripped off for the fare on the rickshaw (a first!)
8. Matt and Phil paid for the rickshaw
9. I had two somewhat normal roommates…. (wink, Matt and Phil)
10. I can always count on God loving/liking me no matter what crazy stuff I do.

I will admit, this didn’t extinguish all my flames, but I learned something in this exercise. Want to know what that is? I learned that sometimes the best thing to do instead of totally freaking out on someone is to breathe and call a 1-800 number and take it out on them….Okay, being more serious, I learned that sometimes the people we love love us the only way they know how. Maybe it isn’t the way we want it, maybe it pisses us off, but at the end of the day the only way to look at it, is pure and simple love. Isn’t it crazy how so many of us spend our whole lives pissed off at those who love us the most? One of the reasons God didn’t give man a dictionary is so that he could figure out life’s meanings for himself. I think the definition of love is much like this….Love is what you make of it, but no matter what, it is there, you just have to really look and it is there…..

Just so my recounting doesn’t mess you up date wise, I am writing for two days worth of life experiences. Today was Valentine’s Day, and when I woke up, I remembered that my dad used to buy my sisters and I candy and cards….I was never without some good Valentine’s day candy when I lived at home….Oh the good ole days! (Violins playing) Considering the near inferno I had last night, I was in some real need of chocolate therapy. All I could think about was my grandma Shirley’s Texas sheet cake with my mom’s homemade chocolate frosting, and here it was Valentine’s day and not only did I not get Dad’s Valentine, but I had no damn chocolate. However, Winnie, the woman of my heart, came to my rescue! I had told her a couple days ago that I would like to make a chocolate cake, and when we arrived at her house this morning, she had all the ingredients I needed to make my grandma’s famous Texas sheetcake! Yippeeeeeee!!!!! I taught Shani (Winnie’s cook) and Prema (our assistant) how to make old fashioned Texas sheetcake with homemade chocolate frosting. The General kept popping in the kitchen asking for an updated report on the process of the cake. After a couple minor difficulties with ingredients, the cake was completed and after a good lunch the General, Winnie, Sonal, and we interns had cake. I won’t torture you with the details of my chocolate experience, but let’s put it this way; this is the first time in a month that I have had chocolate……

After our lunch, Winnie and I scrambled over to Ekta Vihar to meet with the women and children at Asha Setu. We are finalizing the details for the services we will offer to the women. We have consulted with many people in the textiles and trades industry trying to find resources in which we can tap into to help provide some economic relief to these families in Ekta Vihar. As I have stated in a previous blog, these women will sacrifice anything to see their children live a better life. So far, the women want to learn how to make clothes, quilt, embroider, and beauty care. Winnie and I are working on trying to get local business owners to donate anything they can to help us with getting this show in the road. Between preparing for this conference and opening up Asha Setu, we are crazy busy. There are only six full-time people working between the two projects we have cooking in Delhi. Winnie, Sonal, and the General also have Maitri projects going on in the northeast parts of India. Here in a couple of weeks, I will probably be going up to Shillong, which is in northeast India, to do some work up there as well. I know that Matt and Phil will go up as well, but perhaps not at the same time as me. (each of us are working on different projects) To get back to Asha Setu, Winnie and I have decided to get a couple of sewing machines to put into the rooms. We feel that once the women are able to start sewing and learning how to operate the machines, they will be closer to getting a job outside the slums. For the children as well as the women, we are going to also do literacy and English tutoring/lessons. Many of the women don’t even know how to read let alone spell their own name. (Most mark an ‘x’ for their name when signing something official) In one of the rooms, we have set up a computer room, in which, we will use to teach the children how to use the internet and play educational games….

So, after we got all of this sorted out in our meeting with the women, Winnie had one of our men bring a plastic box with little rolled up pieces of chocolate. The women and children eyed the box hungrily as one of the older women in the group distributed it out to open hands. As Winnie and I began to pack our stuff to leave, we noticed an argument going on over the box. I assumed that they were fighting over the candy, so I ignored it and left it to them to figure out. Yet, the argument continued to go on as we left, “why are they fighting over the candy, there is only three pieces, and they are so small?” I asked Winnie. She couldn’t figure it out either as is was such a small amount, but then, as if a light went off in her head she said, “ they are not fighting over the candy, they are fighting over who gets to keep the plastic box. Plastic boxes are precious commodities here in the slums. They are great to store food in without the animals and insects getting to it.” I was silent for the whole way back to the flat. I kept hearing the saying my dad always used when trying to explain to my mother why she shouldn’t throw out his beloved junk, “one man’s junk, is another man’s treasure.” Dad, if you are reading this, I couldn’t agree more .~K

~Indian weddings are Delhi's way of saying welcome~

When I first heard the wild pounding of drums and cracking booms of explosives in the air, I thought insurgents had invaded Delhi…We had arrived two days before Republic day, and Sonal had warned us that security was at a maximum due to the political strife that has plagued the government over the past couple of years….I stayed up that night, frightened to think of what would happen if those booms got any closer to our colony. They seemed so close, and I expected the worst. I fell asleep with my head under my pillow and covers. When I woke up the next morning, I expected to be told that we must leave as soon as possible to the U.S. embassy. But nothing happened, in fact my roommates acted as if they had had the best sleep in their lives. I wanted to scream, “didn’t you hear the insurgents”? But in my confusion, I decided to wait for Sonal to come, as I figured, my roommates being two guys didn’t want to act scared. And since I didn’t want them to think I was a complete pansy, I kept my mouth shut. Finally, when Sonal arrived, I waited patiently for her to tell us there were some political problems which would explain the explosions of the past night. She mentioned nothing…Being the inquisitive woman that I am, I asked her if there was some political uprising the night before. She looked at me with worry in her eyes, and asked why. Calmly, as if explaining to a child, I told her of the explosions and booms that I had heard from the night before. After my explanation a few seconds passed until she burst out in laughter. I thought for a moment she had gone mad, but then she laughingly explained to me that the explosions I heard were from firecrackers being set off in celebration of a wedding. The pounding and yells I had heard into the late hours of the night were that of the wedding party walking through the streets celebrating. Sheepishly, I laughed and felt a complete fool. I thought to myself, ‘I’ve gone and done it again; made an ass out of myself’. What an interesting first night in India that was….And to think that I missed out on a great fireworks show, with my head stuck under my pillow like an ostrich. When I think about it now, I will never forget it because it was the city’s way of welcoming me.

Delhi is not just a city, her people and culture, or even her history are just accessories. Delhi is like a person you have met for the first time, but feel as if you have known forever….I have since gotten used to the welcoming of Delhi. Weddings have a tendency to happen quite frequently here, so now the pounding of drums and cracking of firecrackers seem to be a soothing hum or lullaby. It reminds me of when my mother used to rock me and I would put my cheek to her breast and listen to her breathe and sing to me…. That is one of the most comforting feelings I can remember about my childhood, and to be reminded of that in a place so foreign and unfamiliar to me as Delhi is….It is a gift from God. The Lord knows at times, I am family sick…. And in answer to that, He gave me the gift of remembrance. Many times, we don’t even realize these gifts, but when we do, it can bring about a warmth that no blanket, fire, or heater can produce. So for now, the beating of the drums and the popping sounds of firecrackers in the distance echo through the dark blue night sky and fill me with a sense of security. Even the pigeons which scratch incessantly at my window and create many a restless night can’t take away the calm I feel right now. With that as I my last thought of the day, I will take advantage of my gift and sleep peacefully with the scent of my mother’s perfume in my nose, and the sound of her voice sung through the pounding of Delhi’s welcome. ~K

~"God has been good..." -Winnie~

God is too good of an artist to create ugliness…Yet, the stench that rises from greed and personal gain sullies His finest masterpieces. Whether I stand on the clean brick streets of the states, or on the roads littered with cows, cars, and people in Delhi, I am staring out at His work. Yet, both in my homeland and in this foreign land His work has been carelessly tarnished.

How easy it is to forget one’s imperfections when stung by those of others…. Without condemnation, I ask ‘how many of us nurse the stings of imperfection, while forgetting to mind our own stingers’? India has blown life’s reality into my nostrils and for the first time, I have smelt truth. I believe that it is once we are able to acknowledge truth that we can see beauty. Mind you, this is not man’s definition of beauty, but the beauty that does not come in a box that has no price tag, and is completely free…Beauty is the persistence of life even when the imperfections of man attempt to damper its existence. Beauty is humanity in its rawest form… As I sit in the small navy van that our driver maneuvers expertly through chaotic traffic, I am silenced by the assault to my senses…Humanity in its rawest form stares unapologetically at me, daring me to turn away. It won’t allow me to close my eyes or cover my nose…It will not let me close my heart nor pull my shawl over my ears. So I sit in silence, and listen, and hear, and smell, and feel.

Today we hashed out the details for the national conference that Maitri is hosting. It surrounds the topic of Universal Access and AIDS/HIV prevention for women and children. Winnie was not there as she went to a conference to give a presentation that I prepared for her on “Driving Innovation at the NGO Level”. So it was just the General (Winnie’s husband) and us three interns. I must tell you about the General, he is quite the original. From my past experience of military boarding school, I was always in awe of our three star general superintendent. He was a demigod and we cadets were the lowly serfs. The General is nothing like this, he stands at about 5’8” and his gray eyes are full of humor, mischief, and laughter. There is never a dull moment when he is in the room, and though he may not be tall or big, his presence is larger than life. He seems to know everybody and their mother. The house is always full of someone coming or going. Many times they are visiting dignitaries, rich entrepreneurs, yoga instructors, doctors, barbers, and anything else that you can imagine…However, today, unbeknownst to me, I met two of the leading experts in the field of AIDS/HIV. Dr. Joe Thomas Ph.D., the first expert, told me to call him Joe because no one could pronounce his Indian name, he just had gotten off a flight coming from Rwanda where his last assignment was with FXB International AID. The second was a quiet fellow by the name of Dr. Purohit, he just happens to work at Harvard in the stem cell research lab as well as FXB International. Both have a long list of titles and professional appointments that I have not mentioned, but I can’t remember all of them, and plus it would fill a couple of volumes. I have always had this image in my head that brilliant individuals such as these two gentlemen were either completely anti-social and lost in the world of scholarly theory, or completely full of themselves. They were neither, and combined with the great character that is the General, we all had a grand ole time. Plus, a lot of work was completed over many cups of herbal tea.

Patience a virtue?

Yesterday, the guys and I went to play basketball at Nehru Stadium. It is a large sports complex with basketball courts and cricket fields. Though it is winter here, I was hot, for the weather is about 60 degrees and humid. We then went to India's largest mosque, Jami masjid. Let me tell you, it was amazing, but VERY hectic. I can't count the times in which we have been husseled for our money. It is entirely free to enter the mosque, however, one must take of one's shoes before entering the mosque. They make you think that you have to leave your shoes there at the enterance, however, we learned later that we could bring our shoes with us as long as we carried them. Of course the man that was the shoe attendant at the enterance expects to be paid. Also, the man that offered to give us a tour, after we told him at least twenty times we did not want a tour stayed with us anyway and then hasseled us for money once we tried to leave.......Ugh! Patience and the ability to say "no" are needed when being an American in India. Though, the mosque and the sites around were extremely facisnating to see, the countless times we were hasseled and price gouged put a damper on the day for me. I returned to our apartment extremely disenchanted and with a pulsing heachache... I have decided, that in the future, I will be asking Sonal or Winnie to accompany me.

As for the reset of our day, we spent walking around the old streets of Delhi. We saw parts of the old Mughal empire still in tact and still being used for everyday use. We then ate at this smart restraunt on our way back from Jami Masjid. I ate veggie fried rice and nan (Indian Bread) with a fresh lime soda. We walked about a mile before getting a rickshaw back to Som Vihar.

So this evening, I will be signing off, lesson learned~K

~Namaste~

Finally, I have something wonderfully interesting to talk about. For the last couple of days, I have been working in the Maitri office on some upcoming presentations. Not that it wasn't interesting for me, however, I will not bore you with the technicalities of NGOs...To say the least, we are cooking up some great ideas!

Today, Prema and I met Sonal and Winnie for our first meeting at Asha Setu. It went even better than we had hoped. The small newly carpeted room was full of women residents from Ekta Vihar. But before I go any further, I must tell you from the beginning of how I met the women. Sonal had recommended that I wear as modest attire that I possessed, this was so that I would not offend the women, or attract unwanted ogling from the men. So, I dawned my kurta, salwar, and dupatta and headed out to Ekta Vihar on foot. Prema and I climbed the stairs to the second level of the centre only to be greeted by no less than ten women already seated on the floor. When they saw me, they all rose and welcomed me, "namaste, Ma'ma," they said, and ushered me in, directing me to the only seat in the room. I sat uncomfortably for one half of a second, then quickly, I slide the chair to the corner and sat on the ground next to an older women. They all seemed worried, as if it was sacrilegious for me to sit with them, but I felt a million times better sitting with them, rather then above them, as if I were the queen and they my servants. Of course, I consider myself a queen, yet, I was a young queen, sitting among many queens. If anyone was the servant, it was me, for I have much to learn and to do, to earn their respect, for I do not desire a superficial respect, yet, I want the type of respect that one earns with time and hard work. Not but a minute after I was seated with my new friends, then did Sonal and Winnie arrive. The meeting began...The meeting began with ten women and increasingly filled until the room was bursting, with women leaning in from the doorway and over each other's shoulders....We discussed the best resources that would benefit the children and themselves. Most of these women told us that they stayed at home doing the house work and raising the children, it is after this, that many of them would then rush to their second jobs in the wealthy areas of Delhi where they clean other people's houses, and watch other people's children. I could see the lines of worry as they spoke to Winnie about their wishes for their children. The only thing these women want, is a life that is better for their children. They are willing to do anything, sacrifice anything to ensure that the future of their children will be bright with opportunity.

When they ask me to teach them, I kindly ask them to teach me. There is so much hope in this little slum of Delhi. It shines bright with the smiles on the faces of the women and young girls that dare to dream of a better life for themselves and for their families. It shines bright with the love that these women possess for their children, and it shines bright because for one moment today, we all set together as queens on our plush thrones of carpet....and no one could take that away from us.

Alvida~K

slums, monkeys, and burnt toast...!???!

It is raining here. Big bolts of lightening pierce the sky as the loud booming of thunder vibrates throughout Som Vihar. I can hear the children that usually are out on the playground scream as they run to their mothers. (who arewaiting for them under the eaves of the apartments yelling for them to come home) I am not sure if having rain is a good or bad thing for Delhi. I would think that it would clean the dirty streets out a little, but there is poor irrigation here in the city, so a heavy rain could mean dirty stagnant water settling in, until it drys. This will of course, harbor even more disease than is already possessed of the city. I hope it will be the later, but I guess I will find out tomorrow.

Today I ventured to Ekta Vihar, this is the future home of Asha Setu. In order to access Ekta Vihar, one must walk through the tiny narrow allies and walls that lead to the Jooggies(temporary houses constructed out of tarp, twigs, and dirt). Children seem to be in every nook and cranny of Ekta Vihar, either casting marbles, or playing some Indian card game. The smells of this inner-city slum are pungent. Waste, animals, fresh food, rotten food, and burning coal fill the air, while Indian music flows throughout the slum from a loud speaker. Women, men, and little children would step out of their huts to greet us as we inched through the narrow ally-ways. The children seemed fascinated with my digital camera. I took pictures of them and let them see it on the viewer display screen. They laughed and were tickled that they could see the pictures so soon. Ahh the things we take fore granted. Who would have thought something as simple as a digital camera would make some one's day. On our way back from Ekta Vihar, we passed four monkeys hanging out in a tree. (no joke!) I got scared because one was really big. I got off the sidewalk and went to the other side of the street very fast. This, or course, was at my expense, as my escape from the monkey had the local children laughing. I was not as amused as they were. Now, from the safety of my monkey free apartment, I can rest easy, and perhaps laugh a little over the experience. Today has been chalk full of experiences. I saw monkeys, I went into the slums, AND I almost burnt down the apartment trying to make toast... For the most part, today was facinating. I am getting tired, it is almost 9:00 p.m. so I will blog later. Make sure you check out my new pictures.

khuda hafiz~K

~smoggy days in Delhi~

Today, my roommates and I ventured out in the city to go to a free lunch, compliments of Sonal's dad, at the Ashok Hotel. It is one of the last hotels of its kind that is owned and operated by the Indian government. It was quite the lunch, a whole spread of different Indian delicacies, plus a wonderful variety of dessert options. The only negative aspect of the day is the fact that the burning of the coal in the surrounding sectors has created a seemingly impermeable blanket of smog that bleats out the sun and any chance for fresh clean air....However, my favorite cite to see was the Lodi gardens with its variety of ancient tombs and monuments. The park spanned about five football fields wide and twenty back. It would take at least three days to go through the entire park. This amazing park is located within the pulsing heart of Delhi and is never want for company. Families, dogs, monkeys, children, and couples seem to be in everywhere. Whether it is playing a game of cricket or seeing the many cool ancient structures, Lodi park is definitely one of my favorite places here in Delhi so far! Check out some of my pictures from the park.

cheers~K

~Asha Setu~

I apologize for the lack of a post yesterday. I was extremely tired after a long day. I worked more on developing ideas for the new slum centre Maitri will be opening soon and came up with a couple of possible names in which we will call it. The centre is located in Ekta Vihar, which is within walking distance from Som Vihar. (Ekta is a Hindu female name meaning unity) (Vihar is Hindi for colony)...It took me an hour to come up with a couple of possible names for the centre, and yet, I still have not a clue as to what we should refer to it as. I am getting tired of calling it a "slum centre" even though it is just that, to call it a 'slum centre' feels wrong to say. Here, again, is another emotion in which I am not sure how to deal with or even understand....However, out of all the duds I came up with in that long hour, one name could possibly be just what we need: Asha Setu, which means "bridge to hope." Sonal has warned me not to be surprised if people are suspicious and weary upon the centre's opening, but with time she assures me, "we will build trust"... Such a simple word, trust, and such a difficult emotion in which to earn... But, once we are able to establish a trusting relationship with the women and children, and once they see we are only there to help; this centre can be a lighthouse for those in need. As it states on Maitri's letterhead, "Touch one heart. Change one life," it is through love and kindness, the very essence of what Maitri means and is, that we can build a bridge to hope...

Now on to my new experience of the day! After the office was officially closed, my two roommates and I were left to our own devices for the evening. As they were not in the mood to venture outside Som Vihar, I decided to revisit Vasant (meaning spring) Vihar. I hailed a rickshaw for the price of 30rs and found myself snugly fit into the back of a dungy green auto rickshaw. For those of you who don't know what a rickshaw is, it is basically a little cart that is used to transport people small distances around the city. Most frequently, these rickshaws are little auto-powered contraptions that have one seat for the driver, and a small narrow bench seat in the back for as many people as one can crowd. Of course, I had to gently haggle with the driver over price as he initially was going to charge me 50rs for the ride, but we agreeably came to the price of 30rs once I made it clear that I would venture elsewhere for rickshaw services if he would not agree to my price. I probably could have gotten it cheaper than that, but I am still new to this city and have much to learn about rickshaw negotiation. Perhaps before I leave India, I will be an expert haggler! Once I arrived at Vasant Vihar, I eagerly perused the many shops and stands that lined the uneven streets. The stores and street stands don't close shop until around 10:30 or 11 p.m. and even after that, the city is still bustling with activity. Eventually, I found the bookstand I had spotted the other day and bought five books for 60 cents USD. However, my return trip was a little different, even though the driver assured me he knew where Som Vihar was located, he managed to drop me off in the wrong area. I asked him to let me off before he got me even more lost, and forty minutes later, I found my way back to Som Vihar. God was definitly guiding me because I had absolutley no clue as to how I was able to find Som Vihar in the dark without speaking a smidgen of Hindi. With that experience behind my belt, I actually feel more confident as to my surroundings.

I am about to leave for a walk around Som Vihar, it is much too beautiful of a day to stay in doors. I will be updating the blog tomorrow with new pictures. Thanks to all of you who read my blog daily or not so daily. I hope that by sharing these experiences you feel as if you too have been to India.

Cheers~K

choice is for the privileged......

I woke up at 4a.m. only to be surprised at how cold the city was. There is so much dust, grim, and smog that my nose has black soot collecting in it. (sorry for those with weak stomachs) I am told that this is quite normal for the winter months here in Delhi, this is because many people burn coal on the streets and in their homes to stay warm; therefore, creating a gray haze that looms over the city until the rains of spring/and summer wash it away....However, the morning cries of the azan seem to make it all seem beautiful almost as if the city is burning one large incents stick... Today Sonal briefed us on our duties in the internship. To sum up what exactly I will be doing is basically creating the instructions and system in which Maitri will use to set up a refuge in the slum, in which women and children can come and learn about AIDs/HIV awareness, health, hygiene, sexual protection, and also receive support from their peers. (Anabel I am anxious to talk more with you on this!) It is a big task, but I have the belief that I can do it with lots of hard work and even more prayer. (Mama, wink)

After the orientation with Sonal and Winnie, Sushant (our house servant) took me to the local market just around the corner from Som Vihar (my apartment), this is where I bartered for the first time. I bought a shawl for half of the asking price at 50rs instead of 100rs. (about the equivalent of a U.S. dollar.) As we walked back from the market I felt so proud not to mention excited because I was wearing my new khameez (long tunic), salwar (pants), and chunni (shawl). I felt so much more comfortable and less like the outsider I was.

I don't think that it has hit me entirely that I am in Delhi. It is still surreal and almost like a dream. The people here are so real, not like back in the states, or even in London. It seems people in the west worry about little things like what outfit to wear or how one will get to dance or basketball practice. This existence seems to revolve around little choices surrounding simple luxuries that so many people here cannot even imagine let along choose what they want to do. In so many cases the choice for so many of the people here in Delhi is made for them by outside forces that have more power and privilege. I guess that can be said though for any society in which the people with privilege have more options and choice than those without.

I will be posting tomorrow, so make sure to check my blog. Thanks for all your support and email me if you have an questions.

cheers~KK

In Delhi at last!

Well, finally I am in Delhi, India...Words can't describe this city. It is simply amazing... Upon arrival from the airport, we were escorted by Winnie's (director of Maitri) personal driver to her house for a wonderful lunch prepared by her cook. Sonal (Winnie's daughter) then took us to Som Vihar, which is the living complex in which we will be staying during out duration here in India. It is a high rise in the government district of Delhi. We live on the 6th floor of the building where I can see the horizon of the city from my balcony and hear the Azan (Muslim call to prayer) being called at dawn. We have our own cook and driver. I have to admit it is quite nice, but a little unnerving. Sushant is our main servant who cooks us breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he also cleans our flat and laundry. I have never been treated so well.

Today, Sonal took us to the market to get a feel for things around us, there are so many people and so much to see, at times it is overwhelming, but never boring. The streets are filled with bustling people either on their way to work, coming from work, working, traveling to school, begging for a couple rupis, or just walking. The colors of the women's saris and shawls add such an exotic feel to the overall crazy atmosphere. The streets are jammed packed with motor rickshaws, cow drawn rickshaws, human pulled rickshaws, and of course an assortment of every kind of car that one can imagine. This is added to the fact that no one stays in one lane, here people operate on the system of honking and weaving in between other moving vehicles, there have been a couple of times in which I have truly feared for my life, yet Sonal assures me that this is the norm here in India. Added to this seemingly never ending pandemonium are pedestrians walking in the streets, cows and dogs taking their daily strolls...in the streets, and men women and children begging from car to car for rupis. It horrible and wonderful all at once...I am not even sure if that is possible, but that is exactly how I feel.

There is so much I want to tell you, but frankly I will have to take a break for tonight. I am extremely jet-lagged. I will post tomorrow. Stay tuned and email me!

Cheers~KK

London...to Delhi

Greetings from London! I am currently staying in the Grange Stratford Hotel. It is quite the thing. As I have just arrived (which might I add was crazy), I am headed for a nice, long, and hot shower which then will be followed by a nice glass of British pale ale (wink wink Mom and Dad)....Stay tuned, I will be updating the blog later on tonight with pics.

Luv ya all~KK

"khuda hafiz...." goodbye in Hindi!

I am leaving on a jet plane at 11 a.m. tomorrow (Wednesday) bound for London! Hiphip Hooray! My two traveling/intern buddies, and I will be spending three days in London until we leave for Delhi, India on the 21st. We will be staying in a hostel while in London, as this is more cost efficient....I am wondering if they have any idea that I am one rambuncious black girl. As aunt Julia was telling me the other night, "they will never forget you that is for sure." I am going to take that comment as a positive one, since I happen to be the most fun and nice girl one has ever met...(wink wink aunt Julia and family) If I have learned anything this past month, it is the importance of patience and presistance with the Consular people of Inida. Let me tell you, the poeple of Inida at the San Fransisco, D.C., and Houston consulates know me on a first name basis, and most likely shiver with dread at the thought of my voice and that annoying question I have asked at least one hundred times: "what is the status of my visa?" But, I am my mother's daughter, enough said...So, now the next blog my friends will be from London. I am excited and overjoyed that everything has turned out so well thus far. If ya'll have any reccomendations or questions please feel free to make a comment on the blog or email me at kathleen.tedford@gmail.com. Before I forget, I will be turning off my cell phone tomorrow in the evening so if ya wanna call my cellphone # is 8019180479.

cheers~KK

Visa:approved...RECEIVED

Well, a couple of Tums and fingernails later, I have FINALLY received my &#@! visa. Thank the good LORD. Because of the bad weather, my visa was shipped to Memphis, Tennsesee to get warmed up, while I sat in a precarious climate of freezing cold icy weather [in LUBBOCK, TEXAS] made even more icy by my steaming mad body melting the ice to even more dangerous heights of slick. I missed my flight to London...But made the one for Bedlam. Oh, the joys of traveling. As many would say, "miracles do happen." And, unfortunaley in my case, they happen a little late...But, beggars can't be choosers....right? I am just full of wisdom today. It isn't everyday though, that one's visa comes in three days after the scheduled departure date! :) I leave tommorrow...[crossing fingers, toes, legs, and eyes] and it sure as sand better be on a jet plane...For now I will sit in a state of utter confusion while the travel plans unfold.

Going crazy in Brownfield, Texas~K

Murphy's Law

Let it be known that when planning to travel internationally the most stressful part of the trip is before you actually embark on the trip! I am two days away from making the big journey to India, and I can hardly wait! HOWEVER, Murphy's law has chosen to prove itself through my own travel plans. Ugh! This seems to be the story of my crazy life. I am so ready to breathe a sigh of relief once I can sit comfortably on the plane destined for Delhi. I have called the Consulate once again about my Visa problems, and they seem to be willing to overnight my visa, yet, I can't help but doubt that everything will work out, as my hopes have been on a roller coaster ride this past week. I am sure the people at the consulate are sick and tired of hearing my chipper voice request an update on my visa application. I have had to knock on wood so much that there is a permanent dent in my parents kitchen table. But, as my grandma Shirley keeps telling me, "keep a positive attitude, and you will be rewarded." I have had quite an attitude these past couple of days...come to think of it my entire life, and I am not so sure how positive it has been. This would really not be the time for karma to bite me in the...rear. Maybe if I fake a positive attitude I can fool the fates.

with a positive smile and attitude~K

new delhi or bust!

This is the first of [cross my fingers] many posts to come...I leave for my Hinkley Institute internship this Sunday. Maitri, the organization I will be interning with, works for AIDS/HIV awareness for women and children. This spring they will be holding their annual international conference in New Delhi. This mainly is what Phil, Matt, (the two other interns) and I will be doing for our three month internship. Sometimes, I forget that my internship is the reason I am going to India. It is so easy to lose track of the goal when the stresses of international travel seem to be at every corner. My motivations spur from my passion for social justice and human equality...Hmm....I also forgot to mention my intrigue for adventure. (much to my familiy's dismay) There have been many bumps in the road that have attempted to hinder our departure dates. Visas, plane tickets, shots, etc....I am STILL waiting for my visa, which is held up in the Consulate of India in Houston. But, this is all par for the course, I have been told in the scheme of international travel. All I can do is keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best.


Also, check out the link for Maitri in the upper right corner of this page.

Cheers for now~K