Jen does Delhi with VSO

The End of an Era...Adieu!

2011-01-06T21:57:00.000+05:30

I've held back on my last post as I didn't want to jump in when the first two weeks back have been manic. It's been a bit weird to say the least. I amazingly made it back into Heathrow on the day my flight was scheduled (though postponed by 9 hours). Many others were stranded. On my arrival the ground was covered with snow which made for a very lovely Christmassy atmosphere and I was met by my parents who in their outstretched arms held a blanket and a warm flask of tea. It was good to be back.

But the first few days were odd. I had to eat about four bacon sandwiches over the first few days in order to satiate my cravings. I had to remember to put toilet paper into the loo and not in the nearest available wastepaper basket. I spent a lot of time emailing, calling friends and visiting.

I had an odd moment when on Xmas eve I made a mad dash round a nearby town to see if I could get a last minute present for my brother which was a DVD he'd requested and I'd forgotten to get him. After visiting six shops I was forced to enter the ASDA. In a big nameless town in Essex, ASDA is the last place you want to be on Xmas eve. My senses were assaulted not by spices and horns beeping but an altogether different kind of mania. My companion pushed me stupified onto the travelator to get up to the first floor. Looking at my screwed up face she said yes it's full of common people in here isn't it? It wasn't the people it was the bananas. The veg aisles (note the plural) were stuffed full of enough produce to feed an rural Indian village for weeks. I hadn't seen anything like it for months. Then a woman's screechy voice with an undeniably Essex brogue screamed that the turkeys were half price and we should all rush to the meat counter to purchase her extra meat. Jeez. Coupled with the grabbing of merchandise going on around me, I nearly passed out at the cacophony of materialism going on inside the store.

At home I pretty much didn't leave the house for two days over Xmas and slowly returned to normality in the UK via the TV (there's one bonus of the old set you know). Well travelling Kerala and diving in The Andamans for three weeks helped too. I have since completed my rehabilitation and after two weeks in the UK I am settled right back in, I'm back to work and behaving normally. Well I say normal but I'm definitely more Indian now. I stand closer to people on the tube and personal space is less of an issue these days. I occasionally burp out loud and realise I am in so-called polite company. but at least the toilet paper goes where it is supposed to.

I'm looking forward to this year. I think bigger, I want another challenge, I have plans and I have new interests. It's all good and I'm still in contact with Deaf Way and VSO and here to assist with anything they need. The internet is a marvellous thing, eh? I miss my colleagues but I know I won't be losing contact with them. No need to be sad, I just gained some very good friends. Will I go back. Hell yes. In some way or another.

The other thing of note is I have enjoyed blogging and YouTubing immensely. It has sparked off a writing hobby and I now regularly turn my musings into short stories. I am putting a natural end to this blog in order to spend time on the world of fiction.

To complete these musings, here are the things I wished I'd written about and didn't have time:

The shockingly high incidence of sexual abuse of Deaf children

The lack of a decent bilingual education for Deaf children

Rubbish, (the lack of proper) recycling and ragpickers

Climate change in India

The levels of corruption in the Government

The experience of practicing Buddhism in India (eye-opening)

Why people get involved in development work (cos we're lovely?)

How development work changes your perspective of life back home (it really does)

There are obviously many other things that never would have reached this medium but that's me to know and you to find out. For now...Adieu!

Lost Weekend: Finishing up in Delhi

2010-12-04T21:29:00.000+05:30

Ok so it wasn't a lost weekend but where did it go? In fact the last 4 weeks just went. In training they tell you the last month of a VSO placement will be gentle. Tidying up loose ends, saying goodbye, eating cake. That sort of thing. Not here.

I was busy trying to squeeze in training for the Delhi Half Marathon (I haven't yet got sick of dropping that into conversations). I had a visitor over from the UK then I remembered the strategy plan for ASLI. There was the flat to finish up and furniture had to be sold and belongings packed. An unbelievable amount of stuff vomited itself out of my wardrobe and the flimsy cane bookshelves yielded a bumper crop of jewellery and brass Hindi mini-Gods. I started the clearance. There was four or so bin bags for VSO volunteers to rifle through. This is a benefit of someone leaving - you get hand-me-downs for your usually sparsely equipped cupboards. Judging by the amount I was getting rid of I must have done well over the last year. The remaining went to the cleaner and there was an inordinate amount of stuff to be posted and couriered back. Frightful. I clearly can not travel light.

After the house sale I had my leaving party. We made a profit from the goods we bought last year so that provided the beer for what was to be the last party in the house. Arun of ASLI/Deafway fame (i.e. the wonderful man I have had the pleasure to work with over the last year) provided the food and manned the barbeque in exchange for being fed with Kingfisher. The Deaf Way staff created amazing canapes and took over food preparations. I concentrated hard on drinking and saying my goodbyes. I had an amazing time and it was a wonderful send off after an unbelievable year.

It was back in the office on Monday after partying, moving out and dealing with a hangover of proportions not seen yet this year. I managed to finish some final bits and we had the obligatory pizza (Puneet, the IT and English teacher, was leaving too). After lunch I said my goodbyes and there it was. I blubbed. Totally unexpectedly. Anyone who has kept up to date on this blog will know how much I have enjoyed being here. And that is a gross understatement. I've lived, worked and breathed Delhi. Anyone who knows how dusty it is here can imagine the hardships I may have had to endure.

'Will you be back?' is the question du jour. I hope I have given some idea of how much the Deaf community is still being discriminated against here. Interpreting services are just one part. Education where sign language is virtually banned, not being allowed to drive, a total lack of equality when it comes to employment, no mental health services, a lack of academic sign language and interpreting qualifications...it goes on. I'll be offering any assistance I can from the ether. And I have some plans afoot but I'm not done in India just yet. It's all about the R&R and taking some time out to consider my next steps. It's the beach for me for now.

Tourist India

2010-11-20T16:12:00.003+05:30

Tourist India is, to my mind, a bit exhausting. I recently had a colleague and friend over to visit from the UK. As the person who has travelled around the country it falls to me to be the responsible one; ensuring plans are feasible, trains are booked and boarded and nothing goes wrong. But this is India so things do go haywire occasionally. Travelling around regularly makes it a bit easier and luckily nothing went wrong. Most things aren’t too tiring apart from the struggle to communicate and the continual fight for a fair price. You see it’s the skin tax thing again.

There are, generally, two tourist India’s. The five star luxury where you don’t see much of the real India at all. You pay through the nose for this and if you ventured into your hotel’s kitchen you might get the idea you weren’t in a decent hotel at all.

The other India is more real but they still try to make you pay through the nose for what you get. I’m off travelling soon as my placement ends. I’ve decided to head somewhere, stay with friends I’ve met. When I need to venture further I’ll hunker down in a half decent hotel and limit the contact I have with tourist India if I can.

For anyone coming here it is fun but you have that same old fight on your hands to not be seen as fair game. In fact if there weren’t so many people coming to India who allowed themselves to get ripped off it might help but in some cases it keeps families afloat so we shouldn’t begrudge. Pay over the odds sometimes to someone who needs it more than you. Don’t be the back packer or foreigner that treats everyone like crap and haggles over every rupee.

I’m off soon and I’ll be the tourist again. I’m hoping the receptipon I get in Kerala will be more like Amritsar where everyone was friendly and out to help rather than Varanasi where everyone just wants your cash. After a year of working here, I’ve loved it n’ all but I really don’t want that tourist fight. I just want a nice little beach, a massage and a glass of chilled white wine please.

How very Vipassana

2010-11-12T15:21:00.000+05:30

Recently I went on a Vipassana meditation course. I was expecting 10 days of no speaking but as it sometimes happens in India what is supposed to happen just doesn’t. You can read about what should happen on fellow vol and friend Izzy’s blog! We both agreed I was a bit unlucky though in the end the result was pretty much the same.

I arrived at the centre and immediately hit it off with S. who like another 5 Western women on the course lived in Rishikesh and hung out learning all about yoga and other spiritual practices. We wondered if we’d be able to remain incommunicado for 10 days and we agreed we’d have to avoid eye contact. We drove out of town through the hills behind Dehradun and arrived at the centre. After Chai and chatting we proceeded to take instructions and started our silence.

Up at 4am the next morning we started the regime of 10 hours meditation a day which was to become strangely enjoyable after a few days. What was not so much fun though rather entertaining was one woman screaming in the mediation hall amidst the rest of us concentrating on our breath. This happened again on day 3. Also one elderly woman had been admitted who chatted to herself throughout and clearly wasn’t in a fit state to participate. On day 5 after the constant talking of some participants got to me I talked to the onsite doctor. I was informed the elderly woman was dropped off by her husband. With a lack of welfare services here he probably just wanted a form of respite care. By the end of the 10 days the women were all looking after her and I suspect she was suffering from Alzheimers.

The mediation went well despite the lack of silence. On day 5 I tried really hard to have a quiet day. It worked until 8:05am when 5 minutes into mediation the doctor passed me some decongestant pills I’d requested. Wait until perhaps I had my eyes open? Not here in India where rules are all so important but in reality always broken. Ho hum.

The evening of day 5 saw a change in the group dynamics when so much talking was going on the old Western students who had done courses in the US and Europe also gave up. We all happily talked to each other outside of meditation sessions in snatched conversations. One who understood more Hindi than I told me the screaming woman thought she had been possessed by demons and on day 3 they had left her body through her nose. By day 6 amongst the insanity I’d given up on silence too. A shame considering I was really enjoying any quiet time I actually got. By then I was getting it and we’d been given mediation cells in the pagoda on site. A relief as every time we had leafy greens for lunch the men would fart their way through the afternoon.

Around this time the hours of cross-legged concentration kicked in and clarity struck. Vipassana can reveal spooky sensations. Things come up from your past that you had forgotten. The smell of the local library’s highly polished floor at aged 8. The dress you wore when visiting the senior school on an open day at age 11. Amongst the inconsequential, the stuff you wanted to forget comes up. The idea is you meditate so deeply the feelings you dealt with using logic can be felt at a deeper level. The trick then is to deal with them at this level of subconscious and truly get rid of them. It sounds a bit pop psychology but it works. It's what makes 10 days of insanity all worth it. Each person has a unique experience and people who attend regularly report feeling differently each time. It’s reported that often people leave with a changed world view or a heightened perspective of the world. They’ve even tailored a special course for executives enabling people to rid themselves of pointless negativities and subsequently enhancing their performance. What is clear is only the brave or the mad do this but we all come out the better for it.

Fever. In the morning, fever all through the night…

2010-11-08T18:51:00.012+05:30

Out of 15 volunteers currently in Delhi, 7 have been struck down with mysterious fevers and illnesses. That’s nearly a whopping 50%.

Dr H., our resident VSO doc must be chanting a new mantra: a volunteer a day keeps the bill collectors at bay. Although I like to think he doesn’t charge to see us VSOers as he is so lovely. One doctor he referred me to said that he’d retired and made his money so he was happy to help out those who were helping others.

Of the 7 that have been struck down, we’ve had cases of Dengue (2), Chikungungya (1), unidentified fevers (3), a strange rash and unknown vomiting (2). No Malaria yet but it could just be a matter of time.

My fever came and went with joint pain in 24 hours. I was in Tamil Nadu. Back in Delhi three days later it came back with a vengeance and I couldn’t move my arm or see very well. I freaked out when one of my eye balls started clouding over and rang the doc in tears. Not very good at being ill me. He reassured me and I went in for a check the next day. Fever had dissipated and mobility in the arm had come back to the point where it was hard to tell I’d been ill apart from the clear lack of sleep.

I was sent off for 4,000 rupees worth of blood tests. That’s nearly £60! Hard to imagine when you’re used to the NHS. You can see how doctors and hospitals get accused of sending people off for random tests in order to make some extra cash. People tend to be in favour of a government hospital as although basic they tend not to overcharge. I say hospitals are basic but one volunteer here when admitted with Dengue had a plasma TV. I obviously don’t envy the Dengue though.

£60 later and I got to check my results on the internet within 12 hours. I called the doc and said I don’t know what it was then and he said, 'well neither do I!'. The mystery remains and thankfully it looks like I and my fellow vols here are all on the mend…

Let the Games commence…

2010-10-17T16:34:00.004+05:30

I missed out on my swimming ticket due to a rescheduling of the Coimbatore interpreter training. I’d had a few emails whilst I was away asking if the atmosphere in Delhi had changed due to the Commonwealth Games and what it was like. I wasn’t expecting major changes in the city though I’d read news of the special CWG lanes causing havoc for drivers and the venues not being ready on time. I was expecting even more overinflated auto rates and more tourists but that was about it.

I was lucky enough to return by plane rather than endure another 42 hour train journey (ok once but not twice in two weeks). I booked my taxi then headed over to the chaos that was the pre-booked taxi stand. I’d never seen it like this before. Tourist wandered round like lost sheep and the taxi men were barking numbers and herding people into their cars. There was nearly fisticuffs as one local was about to lose it. I took matters into my own hands and flagged down the car with my number on it. Once in I had to listen to the CWG theme song on repeat for 45 minutes. Still, I didn’t even think it was as bad as the critics say.

I wasn’t sure if I was mistaken but Dilli looked a bit cleaner. Recently the plastic hoardings they’d put up to make the roadside look better had been ripped. They’d fixed that and there was a definite increase in shrubbery.

At the docs the next day there were definitely more cargo pant wearers and people in silly hats that scream tourist. Strangely though, when I got to see the Games I saw comparatively few tourists at JN Stadium but then I was in the cheaper seats. I happily sat amongst screaming families as they cheered on the brilliantly entertaining men’s triple jumper Maheshwary and no less than 3 Indian javelin throwers. When England won both the men’s and women’s 100m relay there was no doubt as to which country I came from. We went on to win a few more medals and I’m glad India did too, the stadium atmosphere was electric.

A few days later and it was time for some badders. With every match featuring either England or India it was going to be a good day. It ended with two golds for India with the brilliant Saina winning the women’s singles. England ended up with 3 silvers surprisingly as in two matches they looked close to being able to win.

I had a good conversation with a gentleman who was telling me that good sportsmanship was important and everyone should be clapping both sides. I think he was trying to negate the fact that the couple behind me were shouting at the England player that he should hurry up and lose. Charming. They did get confused though when they realised his first name was Rajiv. They wondered for an instant whether they should be supporting him then went back to cheering on the freakishly fast Malaysian Chong Wei Lee. This is a man who has lost something like one match in his last 60. Rajiv, you did brilliantly.

One teenager kept walking in front of me when crucial points were being played. I held him off with one hand as Anthony Clark hurled himself onto the floor then turned and calmly stated that you should wait whilst points are being played. Hmmph. Many of the crowd turned up half way through and popped out during matches. It was obvious they were only there to see Saina in the last match. Shame the people in my row weren’t more like my gentleman friend and there for the sport not just the Indian players.

Needless to say the venue went wild with all the police and volunteers coming inside for the last game. Saina was pretty brilliant and absolutely deserved the gold. Thing is if everyone was inside who was left outside? Not many by the time I snuck out as she was doing her lap of the crowds.

The excellent organisation of the whole games wasn’t that surprising. Even the new metro line was open enabling me to use my CWG ticket to get to the games for free. This is how it rolls in India. It all seems like chaos. All the naysayers are baying that it’ll never happen on time, things will be a mess and everything is a disgrace. Then it all comes together at the last moment and you wondered how you ever doubted it all.

Look at South Arica and the World cup. There’s nothing like hosting a world sporting event to boost your country’s credentials, the economy, employment and a sense of national pride. It just a shame that corruption meant the toilet rolls were being charged at 4000 rupees and the price of a treadmill rental was reportedly more than the cost of buying it. But the CWG has highlighted to the world the controversies of India. The ‘shining’ India, the one capable of being on the world stage with its growing economy alongside the poverty, the way slum dwellers were dealt with and the corruption that pervades everything political. Now the games are over, let the investigations commence…

Coimbatore - Interpreter Training Course Number 3

2010-10-13T13:30:00.000+05:30

There are always some ups and downs in the first few days of the interpreter training. You rock up in a strange new town, unpack and prepare yourself and the trainers for what is to come. You take a long look at the list of names, their backgrounds and talk about their potential.

Some of the people that you thought had promise and you were excited about just don’t turn up on the day: illness in the family, changed minds, live too far away, think because they have done a sign language course they don’t need to learn about interpreting. The last reason is the most disappointing. The primary aim of the training is giving specialised interpreter training to those that have language skills whether they are bilinguals by virtue of having Deaf family or friends or because they may have learnt some sign language already. Sign language and interpreting skills: two different things people.

It’s great when you get random people turn up, those that you thought may never come and they transform over the week into knowledgeable, committed and passionate people. Being in an immersive environment for 9 straight days with members of the local Deaf community, learning from Deaf and interpreter trainers about linguistics and Deaf perspectives makes people’s ISL skills and use of specialised signs shoot through the roof.

We’ve had tons of people having light bulb moments. The guy with a Deaf friend who thinks that Deaf people don’t know very much – he’d only met one Deaf person who’d had a terrible education. A couple of days with our brilliant Deaf trainer and he was a changed man. The teachers are often the best to see. In Coimbatore we were lucky to have three teachers of the Deaf attending. All had worked for a few years and some had a basic level of signing. One broke down and cried on day one. She said going through the sign language assessment that she realised how difficult it is to understand in a different language and how bad it was that she hadn’t used signing with the children for four years. I’ve found that these light bulb moments are the turning point for people. They improve dramatically and often go on to be the strongest advocates of Deaf people and sign language.

As this was the last course I’ll be attending I have spent most of my time refusing to deliver or facilitate sessions in order to watch and play a more supportive role. I’ve been in the background watching, advising and providing input where necessary which gratifyingly has been hardly at all. I was struck down by fever one day and took to my bed in the Deaf Centre in the next room. From there I could hear them all happily role-playing away. When I popped my flushed bedhead into the room to see if everything was ok I was sympathetically told to go back to bed!

After two previous courses and an evaluation process it seems the changes we have made have left ASLI with a course that can be delivered for months to come to many potential or existing interpreters in India. I’m chuffed and really proud of the course content. Dramatic changes occur to participants over the nine days and it amazes me every time I see it. I can’t wait for the day when India gets much longer interpreter training programs. Just imagine the results that will be possible then.

10 Down, 2 to go

2010-10-07T16:20:00.006+05:30

As is usual on the old blog, I feel the urge to reflect on what has happened and what the coming months will bring. A VSO placement often feels like it is broken up into a few stages. There's the strange first three months, the last few and the long bulk of it in the middle. At 10 months in, it certianly feels like I've been here a while. Now I'm on the final stretch it's the right time to look back and more importantly look forward to what is to come.

I look back and in some ways I feel I’ve been here forever. I can’t remember what it’s like to walk into a Tesco’s and be confronted by a range of cheeses. The common thing that’s said about India is it’s an assault on the senses when you arrive: the colours, the smells, the noise and general chaos. Thing is after months of shopping at vegetable stalls and small shops when I get into a fully-stocked supermarket I think I might feel consumed by the smell of the bakery and overcome by the salamis. I’ll be freaking out at the choice. Once I’ve recovered there is a chance I’ll be shocked by all the consumerism and will never venture into such an establishment again.

Work wise I’m currently on the third interpreter training program and writing this from Coimbatore in South India. We’ve ran out of time to do course number 4 and 5 so ASLI will be doing this after I’ve gone. This means I need to ensure everything I need to do is completed before I go, everyone is happy with what they are doing and everything is sustainable by making sure any skills and knowledge have been passed on. I’ve seen the course develop over the months and I’m really happy with the progress we’ve made. I won’t be needed at the next now it’s all up and running. There’s no relaxing yet though as there’s a few more things to keep me busy until the end of November.

I’ve had my final placement review, I’ve started catching up on reporting, I’ve planned my last few working months, have a vague idea of where I want travel afterwards and I’ve booked my flight home. In the middle of all this reflection and the tidying up of ends I just want to get back. By the time I get there three of my friends will have new born babies and people keep emailing me amazing news. Before I came, friends and family all reassured me that nothing would change in a year. They all lied. As much as I love it here and want to come back, it’s time to finish what I came here to do, plan my future then go and see all the lovely folks back home.

Pics from:
http://www.billboardmama.com/wise-construction-c-4_30.html
http://www.flickr.com/photos/63695821@N00/1327862465

All Aboard...

2010-10-04T16:00:00.000+05:30

I was 5 hours into a train journey last week when I managed to get my battery starved laptop on, cranked up the internet and tweeted: …another 37 hours to go. 42 scheduled hours from Delhi to Coimbatore in Tamil Nadu. A cool 2611 km away. That’s nearly two and half times the entire length of my home country, Great Britain.

These long train journeys in India are renowned for running late. As I stood on the platform at New Delhi relishing the freedom of the outdoors several announcements came across the loud speakers: We are sorry to announce the Shatabdi Express is running late by 10 hours and 37 minutes. We regret any inconvenience caused. We are sorry to announce the Puri Express is running late by 8 hours and 23 minutes. We regret any inconvenience caused. The train name usually becomes a bit of a misnomer.

I was lucky though. I left on the morning of the 28th at 11:30 and was due to arrive almost two days later at 05:10 on the 30th. I actually arrived a little after 6am but what’s another hour between friends.

Several snacks, some chatting with my fellow travelers, one of whom was traveling to Kerala and would be on the train for 52 hours, waving at small children who were looking up to my upper berth, a lot of reading and sleeping and it was all over. If you want to see the inside of an Indian train I took a video last year on the Puri Express and it’s up on YouTube. That journey was a monster 34 hours so nothing really.

The most amazing thing about train travel in India is you might lose a couple of days in comparison to the 4 hour flight but the damage to your pocket for over 2500km of travel in 2AC, i.e. air conditioned carriages with only two berths per space (upper and lower) is the equivalent of ₤30. Bargain.

Bodhgaya: Finding some peace

2010-09-23T17:52:00.000+05:30

After the delivery of the Kolkata interpreter training over 9 days including two weekends it was time for some R&R. I had one day to explore Kolkata with one of the volunteers there who showed me round. We had a laugh in the planetarium where the 70-something schoolmarm shouted at people if they had their mobiles on and told us that Pluto was no longer a planet and had been demoted. As India’s old capital city, Kolkata has a lovely historical feel to it and is certainly more cultured than Delhi which feels clinical and functional (or dysfunctional) in comparison. The Park Street cemetery was a little slice of calm and told of young British deaths due to Malaria and Typhoid. India is as mad as a box of frogs, what must have it have been like in the 1800’s?

After the whistle stop tour it was off to Bodhgaya for me and my friend who hadn’t been out of Kolkata for 6 months. A remarkable achievement for a place that although lovely was packed, had crazy traffic and few green spaces. Bodhgaya seemed a good choice as the site where Shakyamuni Buddha gained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree.

We arrived at Gaya and got an auto the 13km out to Bodhgaya through a few villages and fields. Ruralshire was a welcome sight. We found our guesthouse complete with some monks and sorted ourselves out after the night train. We discovered a tiny town with temples dotted along the sides of one main road. Monks mingled with mainly Indian tourists and the stalls were selling tourist tack. I’d heard reports this place had been ruined and after having breakfast in a dirty restaurant accompanied by cockroaches I’d wondered whether I was even going to like it here. The cheap eats we got at a Thai restaurant redeemed the place and the next day we had found a good travellers cafe and a quality dhaba for chai and chaat.

The reason for coming was confirmed once we entered the Mahabodhi temple complex. This Indian Buddhist temple was built by King Ashok to preserve and commemorate the site of the Bodhi tree. I’ve been practicing Buddhism over the last year or so but whether you practice or not you can really feel the power and serenity of the place. We sat under the tree with monks, lay Buddhists and tourists from all over Asia. Some meditated, some chanted, others sat in peaceful thought and contemplation. Over the three days we chatted to a few Sri Lankan Buddhists, sat under the tree with others and watched Korean Buddhists chanting with some monks.

The other temples in Bodhgaya all have different characteristics and decorations depending on their region. The Tibetan Karma temple had the most amazing depictions of Buddhist scenes such as the moment Buddha gained enlightenment. The main Tibetan temple had monks listening to a talk by the Dalai Lama and the Bhutanese one was atmospheric replete with a monk banging a drum and chanting. The Chinese temple took me back to travelling China last year with its script inside and the large stone dragons adorning the doors. The Japanese multi-denominational temple was peaceful and spacious with its understated wooden features and open spaces.

We saw many others but were drawn back to the main Mahabodhi temple every day as somewhere you could spend time in peaceful solitude. The town is similar to other Indian tourist spots with the hawkers selling tat and a willingness of some locals to rip off foreign tourists. Hey that’s just the downside of India. Another problem we had was being a few weeks ahead of the main tourist season we were two of only a handful of foreigners. We got rather more attention than we wanted with cameras thrust in our faces and being constantly asked where we were from. It was easier to escape inside the complex and take refuge. Apart from that, anyone spending time here in the presence of Buddhists cannot fail to feel peaceful and happy. Three days was enough to feel refreshed and get back to Delhi ready for a potentially painful visa extension process and preparations for the next interpreter training course.

Round 2: Interpreter Training in Kolkata

2010-09-17T16:06:00.000+05:30

The first course was in Delhi and was our tester. This was Kolkata and this was for real. We had our Deaf trainer to lead the course for the first 2 days teaching Deaf history, community and culture delivering in Indian Sign Language (ISL) so clear and wonderful that most participants couldn’t take their eyes of him. After talking to our contacts we realised the impact we were already making. It seemed West Bengal had never seen sign language like it.

We had 13 people turn up who consisted of 4 members of staff from a Deaf organisation, 3 teachers of the Deaf, 3 parents and 3 people who already were interpreters. The staff of the organisation told us about a dire lack of services in the state for Deaf people. For example Kolkata has around 4 schools for the Deaf, all of which use the oral method of teaching, which means using speech not sign language. Famously in 1880 a conference of educators for the Deaf banned the use of sign language in schools. This was a decision which caused much discrimination and took education of the Deaf back to the middle ages. Anyone who is Deaf or works with Deaf people will tell you stories of Deaf children having their hands caned, tied behind their backs or sellotaped together. This is the equivalent of gagging someone. We happily reported that the ICED had formally rejected the 1880 resolution after 130 years opening up a new era for Deaf participation and respect for sign language in education. Two of the teachers of the Deaf, who depressingly didn’t know ISL, didn’t come back the next day. I’d like to think some of the teaching got through to them. This is one reason why Deaf Way will be doing a survey of Deaf education in India soon.

After the first 2 days of teaching and working out the results of our language assessments we had a core number of participants who were either already interpreters or had good enough ISL to start a course of interpreting. Arun Rao, ASLI’s president and trainer supremo, and I led the next 7 days of intensive interpreter training. The number was less than we wanted but it was a sad fact that our course was five years ahead of its time for this state. We ploughed on though and took on the challenge. One of the students bought in a figurine of Saraswati, the goddess of education, culture and knowledge so we put her on the front desk to give us all good luck. I was really buoyed up by the willing attitude of the participants to get involved and learn. We had great fun again doing the role plays and putting people through their paces. We had 3 local Deaf people who helped us with role plays and assessments. It was essential to have their input and their assistance as users of the Bengali dialect of ISL. It was so much fun watching them act out scenes as parents or shoppers to Arun’s dour shopkeepers or angry school principals. All of them deserve Oscars.

We had one more hiccup, a typical Bengali Bundh. This is apparently a monthly occurrence of an all day strike where the city shuts down including shops and transport. The police are out so anyone breaking the strike is fined. We couldn’t hold the course as people were coming from too far away so we agreed to have longer days. This meant I could get on with some work and spend some time relaxing by watching some lapdog TV.

After those long days and enjoying some great Bengali fish it was time to wrap up the course. There was a marked difference in attitudes, skill and competence by the end of the week and again it was a real pleasure to be there to see these improvements. One person said she didn’t know how we could possibly teach that much about interpreting in 9 days but we had made her realise it was a complex process that deserved more follow up courses.

I’m now armed with more changes to make before the next course which will be in Coimbatour in Tamil Nadu. After a break in Bodhgaya, the good work will be continued...

Dharamsala and The Dalai Lama

2010-09-07T15:48:00.001+05:30

After the nine days of interpreter training in Delhi it was time for a break. I went straight to the hills to Dharamsala, the site of the Tibetan government in exile. After a queasy 12 hour bus ride round altitudinous mountain roads, my friend and I arrived. We were welcomed by a cool breeze and a rickety taxi van.

Upon arrival at McLeod Ganj, otherwise known as Upper Dharamsala, the taxi pulled over and I wasn’t sure the handbrake would hold on the incline outside the guesthouse. After freshening up it was delicious Momos for lunch. It would be sacrilegious to come here and not eat them. We chose a roof top hotel restaurant. We could see the monks chatting on the street below outside the temple opposite. The highlight of lunch was seeing an elderly woman walk round the whole temple turning every prayer wheel as she passed. A beer or two later was enough to ensure relaxation was kicking in which meant we then went to the beer shop to pick up some fruity local apple and plum wines. We supped on the balcony in the early evening watching kestrel-like birds hovering over the trees passing in front of the many coloured buildings on the slopes of the town. It was all reminiscent of Sorrento in late autumn not that I’ve been there.

The main attraction was being able to listen to teachings of the Dalai Lama. You register the day before with your passport and two photos. You’re given an ID badge that gets you into areas outside the temple in the Tsuglagkhang complex. Once in you can sit yourself in the different cordoned off areas with signs that say English 96.0 FM and Spanish 95.4 FM. The Dalai Lama speaks in Tibetan which was translated simultaneously into Korean as the teachings were requested by Korean Tibetan Buddhists. Breaks were taken every ten minutes or so the listeners could tune in to the consecutive translations into six different languages. It was quite impressive being amongst so many people of different backgrounds and countries all with the same purpose. The monks come round serving bread and Po Cha (butter tea). As the Dalai Lama swept in and out of the hall amonst the assmebled Tibetan Buddhists you could see their faces light up. He has an amazing presence and it was an honour to be able to be there.

The Tibetans are in exile, forced out of their homeland by the Chinese with a history of atrocities committed against them. The Panchen Lama was kidnapped 14 years ago when he was six, a fact the Chinese government still deny. Many people travel here to work with refugees. Despite their treatment Tibetans are a happy lot and make Dharamsala a lovely place to be walking beside the monks and taking in the mountain views. I’ve checked out the Dalai Lama’s schedule and I’m sure I’ll be back for more.

The Dalai Lama's Trust: http://www.dalailama.com/office/the-dalai-lama-trust
Free Tibet: www.freetibet.org
Save Tibet: www.savetibet.org

Training the Interpreter Trainers

2010-08-25T14:20:00.002+05:30

We just completed the first interpreter training program for bilinguals i.e. people already fluent in ISL (Indian Sign Language). This was a bridge course over 9 full on days. Many cups of Chai were quaffed to get us through these manic days. There may also have been a few rounds of cake...

ASLI was funded by VSO to provide this pilot course in Delhi followed by four more courses around the country. The idea was that I would write the course along with Arun Rao, the President of ASLI, who has delivered courses before. We amassed training resources such as ISL clips and started with language assessments last Monday. We’d already hand-picked our first cohort to cover a range of experiences and locations. Some of whom will become our first interpreter trainers. We then invited a few Deaf people with linguistic training to become our first batch of Deaf trainers.

In the reality of the classroom I was able to gain more insight into what the interpreters needed. Each night I went home to make notes on the days training and to prepare for the following day. Some of the material was pitched too high and I have tons of scribbles reminding me how the course will be changed for the next batch.

The definite highs were being able to observe and give people feedback. One participant said she had never had feedback in 15 years of working as an interpreter and felt she had gained a lot from the course. I’m really happy we managed to cater for both new and experienced interpreters. Everyone agreed the practicals were the most fun so next week I am working on more ideas to get people active in the classroom. I believe we have given these interpreters practical tools and information that they can use out on the job. As this was my main placement objective I am so pleased we have completed the first course successfully and have feedback so we can make improvements.

It doesn’t end there. On the third day of training we got word that the government had approved our training. This means interpreters passing the course will be able to get an ‘A’ Level certificate with the government. The ‘A’ level is the first qualification with ‘C’ being the highest available. At least 3 of our first batch are already at ‘C’ level standard or above. ASLI is working on getting higher level qualifications as both interpreters and Deaf people recognise this is not yet enough.

Most ‘A’ and ‘B’ level courses offered consist of ISL teaching only and little interpreter training. Although our students can only get the ‘A’ certification at the moment, we have given them a grounding in ethics, more coping strategies for when they are in high pressure situations, information on how to better work with Deaf people and a chance to practice in a safe environment.

Along with the news of certification came funding to carry out an additional five courses making ten in total with the VSO funding. ASLI will now be able to create up to another 130 interpreters in this programme of training that will looks to continue long after I have left India. ASLI also has the potential now to build on the first using evaluation programmes and further courses taking ‘A’ level interpreters through to ‘B’ then ‘C’. The ultimate aim is getting higher level courses in place and jobs for interpreters. India’s interpreting profession is still going through its first baby steps and like a proud parent (or rather participatory cousin) I am happy to be here to experience it along side everyone.

Cleaned Out

2010-08-19T22:13:00.000+05:30

One plus of living in India is having hired help. You feel slightly embarrassed you’re paying someone the equivalent of £15 a month to clean every morning but you obviously get used to it surprisingly quickly. It’s a relief to have help as Delhi’s dust gets everywhere. Surfaces have to be wiped and floors swept and mopped daily or everything gets covered in a layer of brown.

Our allowances don’t cover luxuries but for me a cleaner is a necessity that gives me more time to relax, exercise and keep in touch with home. I like to go with the old argument that you are contributing to the local economy and spreading moolah around. One friend here has a huge house shared by 5 adults, 3 children and requires around five hired help, each with specific tasks, from drivers to maids to cooks. In these larger households, each domestic aide has their specific duties and they operate to a clear pecking order. That’s a creation of one job per adult. Our landlady tells us it’s harder to get the staff these days. They want more money, they know they can get more and they take long periods of leave to visit their families back home in the rural areas of Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and Orissa to name but a few of the poorer states.

Our old cleaner was a cheeky 25 year old man-child. We thought he was about 17 until he said he had a wife and child. Trips to the bathroom meant you weren’t following him round the house. He would then miss out on the sweeping and wash the dirt round the floor instead. On the days he finished in 20 minutes flat you knew he had skipped on a few chores. The landlady would tell us we had to be firm with him and follow him around. They had known him since he was a teenager and use to work for them in Uttar Pradesh. Apparently since moving to Delhi he had been mixing with other cleaners and was no longer the obedient boy they once knew.

We’ve had a new cleaner for a month or so now. She is an older lady who chats away to me in Hindi that I only vaguely understand. She knows I don’t as I have a random vocabulary and little grammar. My responses when I do understand tend to be of the two word variety. Still she chats away and I love her for it. It’s much better than moody version one. We even giggle when she can’t get doors open as she is so slight. Mostly there seems to be a mutual respect that was woefully absent with the last light-fingered cleaner. He used to pick things up and look lovingly at them until told off and once it looked like he was trying to pinch a cell phone.

With our new cleaner it’s very simple. She cleans, we pay her. If she wants time off she gets it. I do my best to understand and shake my head apologetically when I don’t. If she needs something, she’ll say. After months of struggling with the other one it’s a relief that we have a cleaner who fulfils their part of the bargain and we are once again supporting a small part of the local economy.

A Million Dollar Success

2010-08-15T17:34:00.003+05:30

You may have seen my Twitter or Facebook updates already in which case you’d know: I have had a pretty damn good week.

The main aims of my VSO placement was to set up interpreter training and deliver this in a few cities across India. The other was to develop the Indian Association of Sign Language Interpreters (ASLI) and the interpreting profession in general.

For the last three months I have had my head down creating the training which we start delivering tomorrow to our master trainers in Delhi. They’ll be a few more dates round the country including Kolkata in West Bengal and Coimbatour in Tamil Nadu. One pressing issue was to get the training certified. I wrote my first government proposal a few months back. This was delivered in person as Arun and I went to meet the ministry concerned. We explained the course had the highest content of interpreter training that India had seen so far. Many courses have so far concentrated on ISL skills. I had word on Wednesday that the training should be confirmed next week as receiving accreditation which means interpreters passing the ASLI course will be eligible to register with the government. There is still much work to do on registration and standards but this is an incredible first step to improvements in the current system. This was this week’s first bit of good news.

The second came on Saturday morning. Followers of this blog will have seen an update at the end of July concerning work being done for the proposed ISL academy. I stated then that the proposals I helped to develop were well received by other organisations and the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment. Since then there have been a few meetings of the new advisory committee and budgets were firmed up. There was an all day meeting that Arun attended. On Saturday he phoned: the centre has been awarded 80 Crore ($20 million dollars).

This will mean the centre houses one of the biggest Sign Language Linguistics departments in the world. There will be research and training on bilingual education for Deaf children. In a country where very few teachers of the Deaf have any knowledge of ISL this is an incredibly important step. There will be funds to encourage ISL poetry and film production. There will be research and training of sign language interpreting. There will be more employment of Deaf people. The icing on the cake everyone is hoping for is that ISL becomes the 19th official language of India.

I am so proud to have been involved in this project and to have made an impact. For anyone that thought I was on a jolly and didn’t want to donate to VSO, you may do so now by clicking here!

It’s no rest for me though. There’s the Delhi course next week for 15 new interpreter trainers. In between the Kolkata and Coimbatour courses, I have a few weeks to complete my next big job. I will be writing another proposal for the government on providing interpreters nationally. We’re talking about a service for anywhere between 4 – 10 million Deaf people. As the census has never had a separate category for Deaf people, nobody knows exactly how many people are Deaf and use Sign Language. Those that are need access to medical, legal and financial appointments. School, college and university students need interpreters. The courts and police stations need to be able to call on interpreters at a moment’s notice. With scant provision now, mostly through Deaf organisations, there is no information with which to start.

After consultations and research I’ll need to work out the logistics of setting up interpreter provision in a country 14 times the size of the UK. I’m finishing up at the end of November and it’s going to be a busy few months. Watch this space. Soon there'll be reports of another million dollar success!

Blogpost for VSO: My Story So Far

2010-08-12T17:27:00.001+05:30

So I've been at it again: blogging for others, this time for VSO.

They asked me to write of my experience so far. Now it's been a whopping 9 months it was a good chance to reflect and summarise the work I have been doing and what I am expecting of my remaining few months.

It was great having the VSO UK media team visiting. We had lots of fun taking pics with staff and as it was my first day back from holidays it was a nice way to ease myself back into work and being back in India.

You can see some more pics and read the VSO blogpost summarising my antics here.

The Good Life – Urban Vs Rural

2010-08-08T00:44:00.002+05:30

It was off to the farmland scrubs of Rajasthan last weekend where I visited a friend in her VSO placement. We’ve often compared placements. She is living with a family in a village of around a thousand people. The family run the NGO, GVNML and she lives with them tucked away in a small part of a beautiful house, barely leaving the compound to venture out for weeks at a time. The surrounding houses are made of mud and most people don’t have a toilet. She’s so well integrated the family treat her as one of them. One of her ‘sisters’ pointed at the field on the outskirts of the village and told me that was the public toilet. She explained people don’t want toilets in their small houses especially when it is so hot. Now I know why there are more mobiles in India than places to do your morning ablutions.

By contrast I am in Delhi, India’s second biggest city and do things like go to the cinema and sing karaoke. The downsides I’ve documented well such as the heat, dust, chaos and the staring. I have access to everything if I want it but my £5 daily allowance doesn’t cover it. Equivalent prices in GBP: a small block of imported cheddar £5, marmite £4, cinema visit £4, cheapish night out with beer £10. These treats are paid for out of savings as the allowance tends to go on locally available food and ever increasing auto costs – well the Commonwealth Games are approaching you know.

How lovely it was to escape to the countryside and visit the family’s farm. Looking out at the green fields, fresh from the best monsoon in 10 years, previously drought-struck Rajasthan looked beautiful. From the back of the tractor it was green as far as the eye could see. I almost got agoraphobia. The nearest I get to lush greenery are the few small parks that I run around trying desperately to get some exercise. This involves dodging mums with babies in strollers talking into mobiles about Indian Idol, older women replete in saris with bright white trainers sticking out at the bottom. There’s usually a 50 something gentleman doing his morning yoga, clearing his throat and hacking something up as I make my way past. Occasionally someone burps, usually incredibly loudly. Luckily I’ve come to find most of these random bodily noises amusing. It’s a kind of acceptance necessary for sanity. Even at 7am the parks are full resulting in a lack of peace, a lack of space or clean fresh air. It can drive you mad and there are times I long for the English countryside, a long hike through fields followed by a glass of red and a Sunday pub lunch. My horse riding lessons in the UK seem like a distant memory.

Out in the sticks you’re more likely to learn a language too as in Delhi people see you coming and speak English. My roti man greets me with a daily ‘Guten Morgen’ even though I’ve told him I’m British three times. It’s all swings and roundabouts here, there's good with the bad, you take the rough with the smooth. It’s India’s extremes. I’d personally find it hard going rural for more than a couple of months so it’s lucky my placement was city based. I take my hat off to all those working hard in their rural placements, having seen firsthand how challenging it can be. They get to see the other side of the country, live closer with people and understand the poverty that affects so many of the rural communities. Being in the centre of things though makes my work more effective in terms of campaigning government and organising events such as interpreter training. I get the city benefits on the side. Dilli’s foibles may drive me mad on an off day but give me karaoke and beer any time; I’m a confirmed city-wallah.

YouTube Channel Clip - Rotis in Rajasthan (eating breakfast with the family)

The Indian Sign Language Academy - A Work Update

2010-07-26T20:48:00.006+05:30

Back in February the Finance Minister announced in his budget funding for a Sign Language academy. The Deaf Way Foundation Director, Arun C. Rao, wrote a blog post and detailed his delight alongside his concerns that the Deaf community would not have effective participation in decisions as to how the academy would be run.

Here’s some background: India has over 500 schools for the Deaf, only two of which use Sign Language. The trend is very much towards the oral, audist approach of teaching and is therefore not successful. The government provides this schooling up to class eight. With the bare minimum for any employment worth considering a pass at the 10th class with any decent job requesting a class 12 minimum standard, Deaf people have been left behind for years. The academy should push forward the agenda of bilingualism and create Sign Language modules for the B.Ed. programme that teachers of the Deaf must take before being let off their leashes in the classroom. In short, teachers have been, for years, teaching in a language the children do not understand.

Interpreter provision is sketchy at best, non-existent at its worst. Interpreters are mostly provided by NGOs such as Deaf Way and ad hoc interpreting done by bilingual family and friends. Deaf people complain that the interpreters trained by the government organisation are unintelligible and the classes mostly teach Deaf studies and basic sign language. Deaf Way will be delivering the first of five courses in August directly to those already working and skilled giving them quality teaching on ethics, interpreting theory and practical ways of improving and supporting themselves after the course.

The centre will ultimately give Indian Sign Language (ISL) the due it deserves and if successful in its current proposed form, the centre could be the biggest Sign Language Research centre in the world. The Indian government has the chance to bring forward ISL and the efforts of the Deaf community into line and even become a global leader in Sign Language linguistics.

One thing that surprises me is ISL has no real body of literature yet. There are no Deaf film producers, actors, poets, writers or presenters here as there are in the UK. The academy will encourage the Deaf community to be creative and will catalogue the results showcasing them at film festivals and other celebrations of the language.

In all the belated and important work being proposed what I am working on is just a start. The interpreter training is the main task, alongside side providing interpreter support and consultation for the National Association for the Deaf (NAD) in creating their government proposal for the academy. These proposals have been circulated within the Deaf community and consultations have proved fruitful. I was working on the proposals with NAD right up until I left for my holiday to ensure all feedback was included and the budgets were feasible. It gives me great pleasure to read another one of Arun’s posts and see the NAD proposals are being well received by those in the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment. It looks like Deaf people and ISL will finally get the recognition they deserve.

Single, White, Female

2010-07-21T21:07:00.001+05:30

Solo?

Yes solo.

Just one?

Yes just one.

No man?

No man.

On average I had this conversation twice a day whilst away in Malaysia. It’s not like this isn’t part of daily life in India though:

Shaadi?

No, not married.

Bachche?

No. No children.

Where are your family?

UK.

You don’t miss them?

Yes I do.

No husband?

Noooo.

How old are you?

37 (Cue short intake of breath).

By Indian standards I’m a bit odd. By UK standards I’m a bit of an anomaly but less so and actually who cares? Thing is, judging by the amount of books written about lone female travellers I really thought I wasn’t that different. But you travel round or live anywhere for a while in Asia and you’ll notice you’re still a rarity. One man even asked before I started a jungle trek if I wasn’t scared I’d get lost. Travelling is bad enough, but what are the stereotypes and cultural pressures in India as a single female?

I’ve had chats with friends who say everyone they know is in a love marriage or that they aren’t being pressurised into an arranged marriage. But then they are the lucky ones. However strong the social pressure is to be married with kids in the UK, here it is far worse. Many more women report pressure from parents, endless meetings with potential partners and Shaadi.com, I kid you not, is pretty popular. Some have secret boyfriends whom they wish to marry but their parents won’t let them as they are in different strata of society. Men too face pressure from eager parents keen to fulfil their social obligations. The topic of sex is taboo. Because of this certain parks are known as lovers’ make out places and the abortion rate is on the increase.

This is Delhi. It’s the capital city and conservative compared to Mumbai. But those who are approaching their 30s that have the strength, social position or freedom to rebel do so. Parents may insist on arranged marriages but the lucky ones are allowed their choices. Elsewhere those from more moderate backgrounds or more rural areas are under more pressure. Child marriage, before the age of 18, is well documented and prevalent in rural communities. Kids as young as 11 are paired off and girls are often pregnant with their first child by 12 or 13. Once married there may be other issues.

Dowry torture, where a wife’s new family may try to kill off the bride so the husband can remarry and bring a new dowry to the family is often in the news. Less reported are false accusations that can damage a husband’s family and its reputation.

Many of these social problems stem from an ingrained culture of boys having more value than girls in society. This causes female infanticide where female foetuses are unwanted and therefore aborted. In the case of child marriage a lack of women causes communities to want to get the girls and marry off their offspring early.

Whether in the city or rural, male or female, the stereotypes and cultural pressure exist. I’m no expert on these issues and they run much deeper than what I have stated here. Still, anyone can clearly see the effects old prejudices have on today’s society. It may not be easy being in your 30s, single and living with India’s slow cultural change but as a gori I get it easy.

Pic from: Daily Times

India Vs The Rest of the World

2010-07-20T20:33:00.001+05:30

I took my credit card, a budget from my savings and for my birthday did what I always do: took off somewhere tropical to do some diving. Indian and Sri Lankan dive sites are currently out of season so it was off to Malaysia – home to Pulau Sipadan in Borneo, one of the top ten dive sites in the world. En route and on my return I went to KL, Kota Kinabalu, Semporna, Sepilok, Penang and back to KL to take in some sights, Orangutans and some tasty food. I had a list made for me of must eats from another volunteer so steadily worked my way through Malaysia's famous dishes such as Laksa and Rendang. I also met up with two ex-VSO volunteers in Penang who regaled me with tales of life post VSO and took me out for some delicious Baba Nyonya food.

On my first trip out of India in eight months I found that I’d forgotten what the rest of the world was like. I’ve seen enough of India to know it is at least five countries rolled into one. The colder, mountainous North of the Himalayan belt has its Tibetan influences. The richer South has the tourists’ havens of Kerala and Goa alongside Orissa and Chennai where the local women wear every colour of sari as long as it’s bright. There are the more isolated, troubled yet beautiful Eastern states of Assam and around. The West contains the ports of Gujurat and cities such as Mumbai that have played an important part in India’s economic development. The varied central states from Rajasthan to Delhi to West Bengal are characterised by a dry heat and plenty of religious places: Bodhgaya the birthplace of Buddhism and Hindu mecca Varanasi on the Ganges.

No matter its different forms, India is still unmistakably India. It’s bewildering, confusing, noisy and altogether different. So what does the rest of the world have that India doesn’t? Malaysia was a welcome reminder. Public toilets (men don’t piss on the street here), pavements (India has them but people use them to park bikes and scooters), people that don’t stare (they wave and say hello), transport is easier to navigate and on time (I got stranded once in a town at 4.30am as the night bus was early) and a huge mix of people from the influx of immigrants. Malaysia has a high Indian and Chinese population, extant for up to four generations. In reality, they are not afforded the same rights as Malays and this is causing unrest and mass migration. KL also had skyscrapers. Delhi buildings are rarely over six stories so for the first time since leaving built-up London I walked around looking skywards.

Despite all this, after 10 or so days I may have missed India. Just a little bit, but don’t tell anyone. A country so diverse from within it doesn’t suffer culturally or otherwise from a lack of immigrants. The food is obviously great. I avoided all the Indian dhabas in Malaysia in preference of pretty much anything with beef or seafood. Now I am back it is tasty, flavourful masala doused dishes all the way. It’s not that there is animosity here. You just need to work harder to meet people before being rewarded with their excellent hospitality. I’m taking my work colleague up on that offer of a roti making lesson as soon as I see her. Why do I need to marvel at the mosques of Malaysia or if I was in Europe, churches? Here I can see mandirs, gurdwaras, mosques, churches and Buddhist and Jain temples in every neighbourhood. Most stalls or shops even have their own shrines with incense burning away inside. My Saturday morning trips to replenish stocks are always interesting. And there is a reason the world loves Bollywood. It’s brilliant. One Malaysian taxi driver was singing songs to me on the way to the airpoirt. I declined his marriage proposal but that’s another story.

For all its confusion, India will never be boring. Even after eight months I still find it exciting, wonderful, intriguing and colourful. I could carry on with a whole host of adjectives but I think you get the picture: I still quite like it here.

Cleared out by The Games

2010-06-28T12:41:00.001+05:30

With the Commonwealth Games only 98 days away there have been reports that the government is up to no good again. In the year leading up to the Games they have been arresting beggars and clearing slums.

A reported 52% of people living in Delhi reside in slums. ‘Reside’ is a bad word, ‘survive’ would be better. You can see people washing from a bucket outside, cooking on basic gas stoves and eeking out an existence threading flowers into garlands for temple goers. At more than half of the cities’ population of 15 million, that’s a shocking amount of people living in conditions like this. Often slums are right by the roadside and clearly visible to any passers-by. There has been a few that were allowed to stay in place and screening such as fences or trees were used. For the others, as an eye-sore and an embarrassment for India, the Delhi Development Authority and other departments have been at work.

It is well-reported that beggars have been arrested and put in jail without trial until after October when they may be released. Beggars’ jails are in existence here which are called homes for beggars but in reality they are mini prisons housed next to the bigger prisons. With so many beggars to be tried there have been some initiatives such as a beggars’ court where beggars are tried in a mobile van before being and carted off to the ‘home’.

Recently, Mike Rosenkrantz, another VSO volunteer, received a text from someone in the slums near the Indian Social Institute (ISI) where VSO holds its orientation training. He found out that slum clearances were going on here. If you want to see the area before it got bull-dozed it features on one of my You Tube videos from November 2009.

We walked past these people every day. They looked at us as we walked by and we smiled and laughed with the children all the while getting a glimpse of the side of India that isn’t shining. Now their semi-permanent brick-made shelters are gone and families are homeless once more. Finding out why the government has cleared this particular area, which is not visible from the main road, is unbelievable. These people were displaced as apparently Delhi needed more parking for the Games.

Manali and Mountains

2010-06-23T11:29:00.002+05:30

After a 16 hour bus journey another volunteer and I arrived in Manali in the region of Himachel Pradesh. How great it was to get away to the cool of the mountains for the weekend. Warm enough for T-shirts in the day and cool enough for jeans and fleeces in the evenings. It was a revelation compared to the current 40 plus heat. Yesterday here it hit 50 plus on someone’s thermometer. The AC at home struggled to cool down my flat. I wasn’t sure if it was even on at one point. In Manali it rained a bit every day and it was a welcome experience.

Welcomed by the usual touts and auto drivers fresh off the bus we made it past the hordes until we got a reasonable price and headed into Old Manali. Past new Manali we went up the hill into the world of the backpacker, aging hippy and dried out volunteers. Signs outside cafes screamed banana pancakes, nutella croissants and coffee. All of which must be consumed sitting outside with an air of smugness and a world weary look on ones face. My own smugness tends to come in at the point where I hear someone bragging about their travels and I think, well I live and work here so probably best not to come over here with your stories.

We escaped the tourist merry-go-round of cheap massages and pedicures and fortune-telling by heading to the mountains the next day for a three day trek. We chose an easy option which is lucky when being in the Delhi heat means exercise is irregular and usually short-lived. We were rewarded by green foothills and colourful villages. Sleeping in a tent, fed on dahl and roti, listening to the sound of the River Beas was pretty amazing. Another three hour trek the next day rewarded us with a camp site 3000m up on the side of Patalsu mountain surrounded by the other snow-capped peaks. Lolling around in the sunshine all afternoon, reading, chatting to passing trekkers and playing with Terry the dog who had abandoned the trekker he was with in favour of our tent. He proceeded to sleep in our tent porch all night and accompanied us on the trek until he got distracted by some cows and another group of trekkers. Our cooks and porters did us proud feeding us with unlimited chai and three course meals. The only problem was finding a suitable place to go to the toilet as the trees were a bit far away. I was slightly embarrassed to be caught peeing on the side of the mountain by an American trekker and his four year old son but the chance I’ll ever see them again is remote!

Our final day involved another three hour trek followed by another four hours to get back down the mountain. The day after, we headed to Manali main town on sore legs for some retail therapy. Blankets, a variety of wool products and Yak’s wool shawls have been obtained and are waiting for the next Delhi winter or my return to the UK depending on where I’ll be in December. The main part of Manali was full of Indian tourists so we were able to get some Indian food at a Dhaba. We managed to avoid the hawkers selling fake Ray-bans and men purveying the pinkest radioactive looking candy floss I’ve ever seen.

We had to put up with a broken down bus on the way back and a replacement bus with no AC but got a 400 rupee refund when we got into Delhi sweating 17 hours later. The whole thing was brilliant and the chance for a break away couldn’t have come quick enough. Work as well as the weather has really hotted up with government proposals and training to be worked on. The opportunity to get away and enjoy some UK-like weather came at a good time and has meant a renewed sense of enthusiasm on my return. Now I need to plan my next trip away!

Wot choo looking at?

2010-06-08T17:00:00.000+05:30

So I’m more used to the auto drivers now. I even have a bit of a laugh with them when negotiating in Hindi. I still occasionally jump when car horns toot but mostly not. There are things to do for fun and places to relax. I’m settled and happy.

So why does the staring get to me sometimes? It’s like there is no one around who isn’t Indian other than me. And it’s not just men, its women too. Even when I’m going to work and my clothes are more Indian, it doesn’t make a difference.

Granted sometimes you can tell that the person staring may not be a Dilliwallah and could be from a rural village. You see everyone comes to Delhi to work. That’s why some sleep on the side of the street. Construction workers often build tent-like homes from bricks on a spare bit of pavement. You see whole families cooking, washing and living their lives side-by-side with the traffic.

So what gives me the right to get wound up? On the rare day that it does now I have a little chat to myself and think...ladyee, you are rich in comparison. Just deal with it.

Pic from http://blogs.sacbee.com/photos/2010/04/indias-national-census.html

Lingua Franca

2010-05-31T10:26:00.000+05:30

Learning two languages has been a challenge and one fraught with usual faux pas. In Hindi if you don’t roll your R enough in Kurta (shirt) it sounds like kutta (dog) and everyone giggles. I mostly use Hindi for auto drivers and vegetable shopping so I find that it hasn’t developed as much as I’d have liked though at times I sound quite good.

The other language I’ve been learning is Indian Sign Language (ISL) and it is one of the languages of my work here. In the UK we use British Sign Language (BSL) and I’m fluent. It’s a common myth that there is a universal sign language. Pretty much every country has its own sign language due to communities developing their own just like spoken languages developed. Sign Languages have been researched by linguists as early as the 1960s and proven to be full languages in their own right. As many different sign languages have similar grammatical features once you learn the vocabulary of another sign language it can become much simpler.

But there are still complications. As one of my first encounters with ISL was an international sign linguistics conference in Delhi I met many Deaf people from around the country. Trying to learn a new sign language is a bit difficult when you’re meeting people using five different dialects of ISL from as far apart as Delhi, Mumbai and Kolkata. Also some Deaf people prefer using the American finger spelling system. In Delhi they mostly use an alphabet similar to the British system. Finger spelling is used for spelling anything that doesn’t have a sign or does but you just don’t know it! It’s more complicated than that but I won’t go into that here. I find it gets interesting when people fingerspell Hindi words to me. Luckily these tend to be about food so I’ve obviously learnt all those words.

It was really hard at first trying to remember to stick to very visual elements of the language and to pick up the Indian signs along the way. Sometimes I have to work hard to decode the language if I don’t know what the subject is. Once I know the context it’s much easier and I just get it. I find myself wishing I could just sit around the office chatting to the Deaf staff and students but it’s a mix of Deaf, hearing interpreters and sadly, laptop time as work must be done.

The hardest things to learn are the real cultural signs that have been adopted into ISL. Many of these are slight head nods or certain movements of the hands. Some of these signs are used by hearing people on the street gesturing to each other that something isn’t possible or when they are agreeing to something. But it’s great when it all fits in and I love it when I sign in ISL without coding from the BSL first.

And just like Hindi I’ve had a faux pas in ISL. In my first month I asked a Deaf member of staff what the sign for toilet was. I spelt it out and asked for the sign. I wondered if it was appropriate but thought that’s an important sign to learn and I really wanted to find one at the time. He held out his first two fingers palm facing upwards and pulled them back. Not many people use toilet paper here which is why eating with your left hand is taboo. So in my naivety and surprise I thought the sign was a graphic description of what Indian people do in the bathroom. Anyway a month or so later whilst chatting with staff over lunch about travel arrangements I realised what the man thought I had spelt: ticket.

Here’s some info is you want to know more about Sign Languages:

World Federation of the Deaf – Factsheet on Sign Language

Learn Indian Sign Language

UCL Mini-lecture: The truth about sign language

UCL Video - A visual people and a visual language

Pics:

Hindi Alphabet from Google Sites

International Women's Day from The Deaf Way Foundation

Video Killed the Radio Star

2010-05-28T15:16:00.002+05:30

Not content with my own You Tube channel: www.youtube.com/jenpenwen

I've got in on VSO-UK's. See the clip of a few volunteers talking about why we love it and why you should volunteer too: www.youtube.com/user/vsomediauk#p/a/u/0/lkCBX8lhTFk

Another clip on my channel to come soon: Staff leaving lunch in the office. I'm subtitling in three languages again so it always takes a while.

The Heat is on...

2010-05-20T23:33:00.001+05:30

I didn’t think it could get much worse: 47 degrees, trying to stay indoors anytime between 10 and 6, going for a run only after 6.30pm and drinking 6-8 litres of water a day. Reports say it’ll go up to 50 next week. Every time it goes up a couple of degrees I’m not sure how I’ll cope but then I just do. It just gets less enjoyable.

I’m pretty bored of drinking water and I’ve been know on some days to drink up to 10 litres. If you have some alcohol it has to be weighed up against how much water you can drink in the time left in the day. I had two beers the other day and got a dehydration headache. I pretty much stop at a few beers these days.

Today I found it hard to concentrate at work. If the water coolers don’t work in the office the sweat immediately starts. These are contraptions that suck in water from the tap, sprinkle it onto squares of hay at the sides with a big fan in the middle that blows out the water-cooled air. Air con would be nice but it’s too expensive. Someone in the office took pity on me one day and put a fan on my desk. The staff think it’s hilarious and call it my personal AC. It can be a life saver though. If it gets really bad I splash water on my face and sit there with it on the hurricane setting. I don't get big wind-blown 80’s rock video hair though, it's usually stuck to my neck. Make up you can also forget. I don’t think they sell it in sweat-proof.

Keeping up with yoga is fine providing you can summon the energy to get back out of the flat once you’re home. Swimming is ok between the hours of 7 and 9am only. Any later and the hoards of kids appear and sun burn is a strong possibility. I tried the local running track last Saturday at 8am. It must have been over 35 degrees already so it was more of a run with walking water breaks. My companion and I are aiming for 7am this Saturday. I don’t think I can do any earlier.

But here’s the thing. Does this all mean when it gets to 50 I’ll end up house-bound? Not wanting to venture out into the oven-like breeze I might end up planted in front of the AC that I splashed out on. My savings have never been spent on anything better. It used to make my room a freezing 22. Now on max it’s about 30 and my fan is whirring away. Dilliwallahs talk of escaping to the Himilayas in June. A local friend tells me to get up at 5am every day. I might have to take this advice next week. If it gets bad you might see me doing the monsoon rain dance on the terrace at 5am every morning. You never know, it could become a local attraction.

Indian Interpreter Idol: The Search is on

2010-05-12T14:51:00.002+05:30

Someone recently made a comment about my blog that it was personal and not about work. It is true. There have only been a few references to work and I wrote about our national conference.

Thing is, it’s pretty difficult to write about everything I’m doing. Just like in offices around the world there is a lot of background work but the glamorous big events don’t happen that often. (And the occasional paint throwing at Holi.) If I waxed lyrical about a meeting I had or a simple email I received I’m pretty sure people would stop reading.

I recently gave a presentation about social media to other volunteers. This was more to do with my enthusiasm for YouTube and Twitter than any specific form of expertise. Something I mentioned was to be careful what you blog about. Your neighbours or the people you work with may be reading. If you’re not getting on with someone, you definitely shouldn’t be making it public.

I also think that a blog perhaps isn’t always the right medium for what I'm doing. Occasional tweets can be seen about how work is progressing but I mostly don’t want to go into all the details now. What I can say is what I am working on is pretty big. There are only 100 known interpreters in India for what estimates have guessed are 4 million Indian Sign Language (ISL) users. A number that is less than my previous estimates due to generations of Deaf children having little access to ISL in their education and many rural Deaf people being isolated from the rest of the signing community. There is hope that education for Deaf children will improve but this will take time. There is hope that India’s laws will change. This will also inevitably take time. There are other projects my NGO works on. My work is on increasing knowledge of interpreters in society, supporting interpreters and finding potential new ones. The talent is out there. It is like Indian (Interpreter) Idol at the moment in our office as we hunt them down.

What I will say specifically, is I am six months in. It is the half way point. After one month’s training followed by five months in placement, I get it. VSO says it takes time to build those all important relationships, to understand the context in which you are working and to be apply your knowledge to the work. It feels like all the prep has been done and we really are cooking on gas. To get everything done in the next 6 months is going to be pretty hairy. We need support, there is a lot of work to be done and it is not as easy as this would be at home. I’m really positive. We have a good team, excellent vision from the Director and everyone I work with is enthusiastic and gets it too.

Forgive me if I blog more about life than about work. It’s not all yoga, swimming and travelling. I just don’t want to give the game away. How much better is it going to be to report on the success afterwards?

If you want to know more have a look at the Facebook page and join the group to receive updates. We are also on the web here. And if you want to enter Indian Interpreter Idol and haven't done so yet please contact us.

It's The Final Countdown

2010-05-03T15:36:00.002+05:30

On my way to the doctors last Friday I was unceremoniously dumped out of my auto at the bottom of Sansad Marg. I didn’t know this at the time but a demonstration was taking place and the road was blocked. I looked up and I was outside the office of the organising committee of the Commonwealth Games. A big notice board stated there were 156 days left until The Games start.

It’s a hot topic in the news as Delhi seems to be mostly under construction. I see the extension works of the Metro by Kailash Colony on my way to work every day. Not sure it will actually be complete by October. As I went over the flyover last week I could see the reconstruction of the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium. They are just putting up the little tent-like roof sections on the outside (see pics from Treehugger). Who knows what the progress is on the internal sections? It’s a controversial building too. Recently in an imported UK copy of Grazia just a few pages away from the Haute Couture 'Travellers pants' selling for £650 there was an article on child labour at the Commonwealth Games sites in Delhi. Oh the irony. The working conditions are terrible but actually the children aren’t employed, they come with their parents' from afar to work and live on the building sites. There is no child care and the pictures show them helping their parents. The journo (if you could call her that) had completely missed the wider issues of poverty, labour violations and the problems faced by migrant workers who travel far for employment.

There were two announcements in the Times of India on Saturday concerning completion times of works. Firstly the Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD) who are responsible for the maintenance of parks and roads have stated they will complete all works by the end of the this month. Secondly, Chief Minister of Delhi, Sheila Dikshit (an unfortunate sounding name where I come from), has stated that all works must be completed by June in case the monsoons come early.

153 days left now. I can’t wait to see what Delhi will look like come October. With 100,000 visitors due to arrive it will be hopefully a lot less messy than now. Now does anyone know how I can get my ticket to see Usain Bolt?

A Recipe for Successful Weight Loss

2010-04-29T22:27:00.001+05:30

Ingredients

Some street food such as Chole Kulcha or Chicken Momos
A lassi
A reduced intake of alcohol
Greatly increased intake of water
Reduced appetite
The start of a hot Delhi summer
Some exercise such as walking, swimming, yoga and running

For this recipe it is important to have first settled into your new surroundings and have a routine. Attend yoga three times per week at the temple across the road and revel in listening to the temple bells whilst contorting yourself into various assans or meditating. Combine this with walking to and from work. This is especially easy to do if you find it a hassle getting in autos. Add a smattering of swimming and running. Sweat.

For this recipe you will find it easier if your VSO placement is in an area where your choice of food is Western junk, greasy Indian takeaway or tasty and cheap street food. Keep forgetting to take in your own food so you resort to the street food. Bake at a Delhi summer temperature of 42 degrees (or gas mark 19). This level of heat is necessary to ensure the mix of street food becomes a lethal concoction of bad salad onions, infected meat and bad hygiene. You will find your tolerance to these foods won’t be as good as the locals even if you think being in country for 5 months will have sorted you out. Add these ingredients until you see the first few rounds of the so-called Delhi Belly.

Reduce your appetite drastically at this point. If the infection has persisted, reluctantly take some antibiotics until the weight loss really kicks in. The next stage of the recipe needs only a few ingredients. Add only dry toast, probiotic dahi (a.k.a. yoghurt) and peeled apples. Ensure you wash this down with 6 – 8 litres of water a day. Occasionally add a pinch of rehydration salts. At this point stop all exercise unless you can be sure you have enough energy and there are toilet facilities nearby.

Should you feel better, you can decide to add another infection from street food. At this point there is a real danger of dehydration or acute gastroenteritis. Ensure you stay in contact with a good doctor and you know where the nearest hospital is. Should you have a second infection, again stick to the above few ingredients for another week. Once you are better from a second course of antibiotics and you are back on normal foods, go to a notoriously dirty Indian town such as Varanasi for the weekend. Be careful whilst eating out in travellers’ cafes and clean Indian restaurants but then decide to drink a lassi on the last day.

Call the doctor on your return stating you really don’t want to take a third course of antibiotics but will if you must. If you’re not feeling well at this point you can add some humiliation by having to attend the doctors with a stool sample. Add the antibiotics depending on the results of the sample and continue with the usual diet of dahi and toast. Add the occasional egg if the recipe tastes bland.

Once the effects of Delhi belly decrease and appetite returns, keep meals small and resume levels of exercise. If the above steps are followed correctly you will find you can negate the effects of the weight gain recipe and even enhance your weight loss.

HEALTH WARNING: This method of weight loss will only work with a calorie controlled diet. Please see your doctor if you have any pre-existing health conditions.

Pics courtesy of:

http://antibioticsandalcohol.net/

http://www.smccd.edu/accounts/salahuddinr/

http://showmethecurry.com/category/odds-ends

A Recipe for Successful Weight Gain

2010-04-21T22:42:00.002+05:30

Weight yoyo-ing is apparently usual in Delhi due to the change in temperature between winter and summer. Mine may have been a little bit more extreme. Gillian McKeith watch out, here’s how I did it:

Ingredients:

Lashings of Ghee

Butter naans

Karti rolls

Anything with paneer

Greasy but available Western food: burgers, pizzas, fries

Sundaes

Cheap local chocolate: 5 star bars are ideal

VSO volunteers

New surroundings

Sugary Chai

First take a change in surroundings and embark on a VSO in-country orientation programme in Delhi. Mix the following ingredients in a big pot: boring hostel food such as watery dahl and rotis, the same rice and pickle every day and soggy toast every morning. Simmer for a while. Chuck in a new set of colleagues and put around 18 in tiny shared rooms for 4 weeks. In order to make sure the ingredients cook correctly attend the really intense Hindi lessons. Ensure all bonding sessions are done over food and meals out.

Once the broth has simmered for a week or two, add the greasy but available Western food at Eatopia and McDonald’s. At this point be careful of your morals when it comes to globalisation, you may have to discard these for the sake of your mental wellbeing. Continue to add a smattering of fries and McAloo Tikki burgers every few days. Stir occasionally.

At the end of the second week add in the plentiful local supply of new, cheap and tasty food at Gulab’s and other restaurants in Mehar Chand market. Be liberal at this point. Don’t spare on any of the Butter Naans, Karti rolls, paneer or anything with ghee.

You will find this result reinvigorates your tastebuds and your appetite. Take at least one portion of the meal daily and add in some comfort chocolate such as the local 5 star bars if you wish to have quicker results. After 4 weeks, add the start of a cold Delhi winter, some accommodation issues, two extra weeks in a guesthouse and plenty of warming sugary Indian Chai.

After a few months you will find the recipe has been successful. If followed correctly you could gain anything from 5 – 10 kg.

Next instalment coming soon: Recipe for Successful Weight Loss

Easter in Varanasi – Bodies, bulls and bacteria

2010-04-08T10:46:00.000+05:30

In Delhi they say travel before April when it really hots up in India. Two other volunteers, B and N, and I decided on a last trip to Varanasi before the summer months. On the day we arrived at New Delhi train station in good time. The boards weren’t showing our train and the enquiry desk had a queue of people that snaked almost out of the station. We went up to the bridge that crosses all platforms and each board above each platform was showing different information than the boards downstairs. Dodging porters with three suitcases apiece on their heads and the occasional sleeping body we traversed the bridge looking at each board. None showed our train number. We went downstairs. The boards were stuck over an hour behind at 5.30pm and we were due to leave at 7pm. We had 20 minutes to find our train. Panic was going to set in soon.

After another few runs of suitcase dodging and body hurdling we were getting desperate. We eventually found three men that looked like they might know. Platform 9 they said and we ran. T minus 5 minutes and counting. People trundled along in the heat, toddlers sprang out of nowhere and huge families blocked our path. On the bridge we reached platform nine. No train number was apparent as we hurtled past and down the stairs. We checked the charts plastered on the carriages. It was the right train but we were another six carriages away from ours.

Suddenly the train started moving. Luckily the health and safety rules that exist in other countries don’t in India. We ran to the nearest open door and jumped on the moving train. We walked down the train sweating and laughing to the amusement of our fellow passengers. Two carriages down and the door to the next carriage was locked. A passenger told us the door would be opened after five or so minutes. After ten minutes the door was still locked and the train had stopped at another station. We made another run for it.

I shouted to the other two that we’d reached our carriage and to hop on at the next door. I heard a shout back as the train started to move, ‘It’s locked!’ We ran back screaming and laughing with our rucksacks on. It must have been great entertainment for the usual passengers strewn around the platform waiting for their delayed trains. ‘Quick get on, get on!’ ‘Hurry up and get out of the way!’ Spectators wouldn’t have needed English to understand what was happening.

We finally found our seats. As we were in different parts of the carriage we decided to take three seats in one berth and hope we wouldn’t be moved on. We spoke in pidgin Hindi and English to the man in the remaining bunk. He later laughed at us bored playing The Name Game and told us there is an Indian equivalent called Antakshari meaning last letter.

We had the usual staring from male passengers but our friend was gracious and friendly. Helping to find out what had happened when we didn’t get blankets and there was no food service. It was a new train, named the ghost train by B. No wonder it hadn’t existed at the station. I was grateful for his presence when I woke up in the middle of the night to a man sat on my bed as my friends were sleeping soundly in their upper bunks. I sat up speechless upon the sight of the stout greying man dressed all in white. The apparition spoke to me in Hindi and prodded my rucksack which had been jammed behind my head. Baggage thieves are notorious on Indian trains. I said ‘Kya?’ (what?) It was all I could muster but it was enough to wake my fellow passenger who firmly spoke to him. I could make out he was saying this is not your compartment, go and find your own. He floated out backwards with a monologue moan, ‘sorrisorrisorri’. I half expected to hear a rattle of chains as I thanked our friend before rearranging my baggage and settling down to what was then a fitful sleep.

We arrived to the usual barrage of touts and phoned our guesthouse for our pick-up. We did not disembark from our auto at the guesthouse but outside the tiny streets that lead to the ghats. With baggage in tow we trundled after our guide in 40 plus heat dodging cowpats, hawkers and temple-goers until we made it to the Ganges and our guesthouse. After dumping our luggage we went to explore the ghats and the tiny maze-like streets.

Whilst walking past a stall, we noticed a Deaf guy signing to his friend. I said hi and we got chatting to him and his three friends. We took them up on the offer of being shown round the next day and some sari shopping. I love how the Deaf community is so small. When you bump into anyone in the world you find out they know the same people. They’d all met the Director of my organisation at campaign rallies for the rights of Deaf people. In the heat we let our new friends and moved on to find lunch and much-needed shade.

Shortly after, we nearly got run over by a dead body under a colourful cloth being carried aloft on a stretcher by six men. Draped with garlands of flowers they made their way between the piles of wood for cremation down to the ghats where the body would be burnt on a pyre. Rumours are rife of body parts being seen floating down the river as poorer families can’t afford the more expensive wood needed to fully burn a body. On a sunrise boat trip, we saw the strange sight of people sifting ash by the funeral pyres for jewellery and gold teeth.

Varanasi was a strange delight and our eventful train journey should have been an omen of what was to come. A fun afternoon was spent marvelling at famous Banares Saris with our new Deaf friends. It was relief to get off the streets where the goats munch garbage and buffalos wait to be milked. A particularly grumpy one had seen my red kurta and tried to go for me. A local man had to lead me back shielding me from the bull to get back to my friends. When I thanked him he broke out into a grin and charmingly said, ’You do not need to thank me. It is my right and my privilege to help you in my country. I spent the next few days wondering how I had managed to pack what seemed to be everything red in my wardrobe.

We ended our last day by having a lassi with our Deaf friends. As I was signing away I could see passers-by forming a small crowd until they got bored and moved on. I could hear the lassiwala say to B and N, ‘she knows their language?’ It strikes me as ironic that this humble man who lives with a buffalo outside his shop understood immediately that sign language is another language. How is it possible that some members of the government fail to comprehend this when they suggest ISL is merely a set of gestures relating to Hindi?

Unfortunately that lassi was what probably gave us the bug that left N ill on the train home that evening. B wasn’t feeling too great either. We didn’t get our waitlisted tickets for our original train back causing more chaos at the station. The one we got instead went to East Delhi forcing us to get a Metro back into town. Lucky for us we had got chatting to a passenger who led us to the Metro station. I’d explained that B and N were ill. He marched me to the front of an hour long queue for tickets. When the man behind me protested he responded, ‘These are guests in our country. You should treat them as such.’ I was received with a gesture to move forwards to the ticket window which I gratefully accepted under the circumstances. When we parted at the Metro interchange he made sure we got to the correct platform and I shook his hand vigorously marvelling again at the kindness of strangers. Thankfully my bacteria decided to strike only after I’d gone home and been to the shops for supplies. I’ve been pretty much hunkered down since we returned two days ago and have been swallowing antibiotics regularly ever since. I’m definitely heading back to explore more of Varanasi in the cooler months. Next time I think they’ll be no ghost trains, no lassis and definitely no red clothes.

Get your coat love, you’ve been pulled! – The Indian Traffic Cops

2010-03-31T21:55:00.000+05:30

I was working at the weekend. Shocked at getting up at 4am on a Sunday, I got the train to Agra for a Deaf event. My colleague and I were doing a presentation on interpreter training and some filming. He had been there a few days so I got the train there and he gave me a lift back. We were waved off after a productive day and we settled in for the 4 hour drive back.

Not even out of Agra, my colleague answers a phone call on his mobile. Two minutes later, we’re pulled by the police. Now I’ve heard a lot of stories from people about the police and corruption, especially in Delhi.

One friend told me he got pulled for no reason late one night and he knew the police were going to make something up and charge him. He hid his cash under a floor mat apart from 200 rupees. They duly came over with a charge of speeding and told him he could pay the fine of 1000 rupees. He said he had nothing on him and offered up his 200 rupees which they took and went on their way.

Another work colleague told me a story of her husband. He is Deaf. He was pulled one night and as Deaf people are not allowed a licence, but drive anyway, he was a bit stuck. With no one to communicate between him and the police, it was a bit tricky. He ended up paying a 400 rupee bribe.

The stories of the traffic police and their bribery are endless but as another work colleague tells me their pay is so bad it is how they top up their wages. Actually, people queue to get government jobs. They are coveted positions as they provide the security of a job for life with pension benefits. So much so that recently one young man was sadly killed in a stampede at recruitment centre.

So back to Agra, my colleague pulls into the slip road and follows the policeman to this little hut. The car is in the middle of the road and autos are beeping, weaving their way round, going up on the pavement and down onto the road again. Other cars mounted the other kerb and got round somehow. I sat in the passenger seat wondering whether my presence was a help or a hindrance. Watching the cops was interesting. I could sense they like being able to wield their power but are open to negotiation. Possibly as they know they are in the wrong but it’s just what they do.

I saw my colleague negotiating, gesturing at the car. The policeman was fingering his licence deep in thought. Meanwhile, one of the Deaf guys at the meeting came out of nowhere, jumped in and moved the car to one side. He leapt out again and was signing to the police who was waving at him to go away.

Ten minutes later and my colleague jumps back in. He’d had to pay 1000 rupees but he had negotiated down from actually having his licence taken away and having to appear in court. He’d told the police he was staff at an NGO, I was a teacher visiting and they were embarrassing him in front of me. Apparently it was good I was there. It was even better when our Deaf colleague turned up just on time to back his story up.

We started talking about the corruption and how it is so inherent. To prove this he took out a slip of note paper out of his pocket that the cop had given him. It had the date, the place and was signed by the cop. My colleague explained the paper was in case he was stopped again. He could show it to the next cop just so he wouldn’t be bribed again.

Pic - http://world.casio.com/system/pa/solution/20090820/india_police.html

The Volunteer and the Balloon Seller

2010-03-16T14:47:00.000+05:30

Recently a fellow volunteer told me this story which made me laugh. She doesn’t have a blog so I’m putting up here:

In Delhi if you’re in an auto that has pulled up at some traffic lights chances are you’ll be offered something to buy. This could be anything from boxes of tissues to helium balloons, photocopied books that look like the real thing to glossy mags. There can also be beggars or disabled people as there is no welfare here. The sellers can be poor also and working for someone else for a very small wage.

So my friend and fellow volunteer was in an auto one day, stopped at the traffic lights and was being sold something. She shook her head and said to the seller, ‘Mei volunteer hoo’ (I am a volunteer). This drew a blank look as it usually does from the hawker as the word ‘volunteer’ in India is often not understood. The concept is fairly new and sometimes it means you have to volunteer to get experience as you are not good enough to get paid yet. I find myself often going into a full explanation of the whole experienced professional coming to India to share skills and to develop Indian organisations. Unless we do that we can be pretty much looked down upon here but colleagues who work in National Volunteering tell me it’s on the up and there is a lot of interest from people wanting to volunteer and give back to the community. VSO in India are looking into reducing the amount of international volunteers in favour of using the experience that exists already in India. International volunteers will be providing more targeted support and knowledge in the areas where it may still be needed.

Anyhoo...back to the traffic lights. My friend is being offered some delightful goods she doesn’t want. This happens regularly and sometimes we are sitting targets in an auto. If you’re spotted sometimes sellers make a bee line for you because you know, we’re Westerners so therefore must be rich. She attempted an explanation in Hindi, ‘Mere pass rupaiye nahi’ (I have no money).

The seller pulls out 10 rupees and offers this to her. Hilarious. This caused the driver to laugh too. She refused the cash obviously and tried to explain that she works but for an allowance, for essentially what is an average local wage. So he then pulled out a 100 rupee note and offered it to her! This story illustrates why I love this country. Just when you think it is predictable and you know exactly what will happen you get a nice surprise or someone just makes you completely smile.

Pic from http://www.guardian.co.uk/news/gallery/2010/jan/02/1?picture=357553544

Queuing at the Delhi Counter Part II - A Legal Alien in New Delhi

2010-02-26T15:43:00.029+05:30

The visa process is painful. The expat forums are full of queries and no-one knows what the processes are or what the different types of visa mean. As volunteers we sort out our own visas and must sit around for hours in strange government offices. It is a rite of passage one must go through to be allowed to stay in India. Here’s the rather strange story of my experience:

DAY ONE

10:07 Arrive at the Ministry of Home Affairs reception and use elbows to obtain a number. This is slightly different from buying Gouda at Sainsbury’s.

11:03 My number shows up on the LCD. Elbow way to front to hand in form and be given slip of paper that allows me inside visa facilitation centre.

11:05 Queue at visa centre reception. No one is at the desk. After ten minutes a group has gathered and a man rocks up. Elbow in, hand over form and sit down for the long wait.

12:41 Called for interview where there is much staring at paperwork from official. I’m told to come back at 16:30 to collect letter which must be handed in tomorrow, still sealed, at the Foreign Registry Office.

16:40 Return and wait for an hour and a half alongside irate European who seems to think that if you complain about the system it will immediately improve. Collect letter and leave having wasted a day of work.

DAY TWO

07:30 Arrive at Foreign Registry in auto. Realise I need to pay 80 rupees and have only 60. A passerby takes pity on me and gives me 20 rupees. The kindness of strangers. Resolve to hunt him down later and pay him back. Put name on list. I am number 10. This feels like a good number to be.

09:38 Return after breakfast at a nearby hotel to a long queue of pushing Afghani’s on the left and perturbed other where-esles on the right. Push way to front as I am number 10. As I wait two British men push their way into the queue behind me. The one at the front asks if I am British. We have a conversation about queues and what reason we are all here. They require exit stamps in their passports so they may return to India after they have been to Dubai. I tell my new companions that the Afghani queue is for refugees. European woman in front of me turns round and offers a pitying but withering look. She tells me they are not refugees but medical tourists as the doctors in Afghanistan are supposedly not as good as India. Feel slightly stupid and apologise. Get to front and I am told I am late. Get given number 20. Dammit.

10:01 Inside the building clasping our numbers we all queue again to see the man on reception. I chat away to my two new British friends. Number one is the slightly older of the two and is very jovial. We chat about India and the UK, about colonialism and the British influence here. Number two is thinner, slightly younger. He is probably in his late 40s/early 50s with lovely demeanour. Number one chats away with me. He tells me he has a franchise in automatic pizza making machines and he has been trying to sell them across India but this hasn’t worked well so far. Number two says that I shouldn’t believe anything number two says.

10:05 I have by now discussed why pizzas cannot be sold on university campuses yet in India as the food is all subsidised in canteens and delicious. I have also told them both all about VSO, my placement and when asked what I will do when it ends I joke that I may return to the UK, settle down, find a husband. I get a strange look from both of them. Remind self that some of my humour should be reserved for friends.

10:07 Still chatting I ask number one a question. He mishears and says, ‘Our names? I’m Nick and this is Gordon.’ We talk about the length of the queue again. They need to catch a flight to Dubai and have to leave in one hour. I call up my flatmate and get advice from the FRRO guru, Nikki-ji. She has been here many times. I tell her about the two men and tell her my number. She tells me it took her three hours but it all depends on what is in my envelope. I relay this to my companions. As they are here for a different reason there is a small possibility they can get out in time to get their flight.

10:09 OMG! It dawns on me that number two is Gordon Sumner aka international superstar and amazingly talented one: Sting. Realised I’ve been trying to give them insight on India and pizza machines. Cringe and try not to laugh. I can’t look up and fiddle with my paperwork for 30 seconds to regain composure. Breathe.

10:10 Tell number two, aka G/S, quietly that I have figured out who he is. Exchange knowing glances all round. Ask number one who he is as he looks as if he may be familiar too. I have a laugh with them both that he is not in fact a pizza making machine seller and is in fact a BBC journo or something. He tells me his name and tells me I probably won’t find him through Google.

10:12 Ask them why they don’t have a handler. Point to man just in front of us who hands over seven visa application forms causing us to wait another 10 minutes. We agree you probably have to come in person for a visa stamp.

10:13 Tell G and N they probably get asked this all the time but can they donate some money to VSO. Write down my Just Giving website address and my blog address. He reads out Jen Does Delhi. I tell him that it is a play on the title of the famous porn film of the 1970s entitled Debbie does Dallas although state that is definitely not what I am doing here, it's just that the title just makes me laugh.

10:15 Get to front of queue. Man dismisses me and says I do not need to renew my visa until April when it runs out so I should come back then. Tell him I am here to register with police as well. He doesn’t even look at me and waves me away. Say my goodbyes to G and N. N says he will hunt me down and marry me at the end of my placement. I tell him that it would be lovely thank you. G wishes me luck earnestly. Feel amazingly lucky and humbled. What a day and it is only 10:15! Who cares if FRRO have dismissed me?

10:18 Call FRRO Guru-ji. Realise in all the excitement of meeting G and N that I didn’t give the receptionist the unsealed letter I got from the MHA the day before. Tell her that I met Sting and she unknowingly gave him FRRO advice. Inform her that this takes her to new levels of FRRO guru-ji-ness.

10:20 Convince security guard that I need to go back in very quickly as I forgot something. He points back to the queue outside. Wave around letter frantically and look slightly maniacal. Plead. Beg. Get let in again. Phew.

10:22 Barge my way to front of inside queue and plead with man to open my letter. He points to queue and again. Plead again and stand still refusing to move. Thrust envelope into his face and put on my best feminine helplessness face. This never usually works.

10:23 It works! Wonder if famous lovely superstar, G, and future husband, N, are watching this pitiful performance. He opens the letter and tells me to go home. The police will visit my home to check I live there at some unnamed point in the next few weeks.

10:25 Look around to say goodbye to G and N. They’ve been swallowed up by the frantic medical tourists and frustrated Europeans. I head off hoping they get their stamps and enjoy their holiday when they return to fabulous India. Wonder if they’ll be any tickets in the post soon?

(pictures from - http://www.askmen.com/ and http://www.matteoandmathilde.com/2009/10/i-remember-during-my-times-at.html)

Travels, Touts and Trauma

2010-02-21T16:22:00.000+05:30

After my recent conference my guest speaker and friend, over from the UK, stayed on for a tour of Delhi, Jaipur and Agra. He has Usher Syndrome which means, in his case, tunnel vision as well as being Deaf. For someone with this condition it can be pretty tough getting around. Imagine then visiting India: a place with few pavements, mentalist driving, little awareness of disabilities and a general level of what feels like chaos. There were incidents right from when he arrived at the airport all the way through to when he left.

To start with, we arrived at a hotel round the corner from my house where my guest would stay. I am not allowed male overnight visitors at my flat and this has been written into the tenancy agreement. My landlord is part of a lovely but rather conservative India family who live on the ground floor. The hotel staff looked perplexed to see their new guest arrive. As the two of us chatted in Sign Language they stared. The staff asked many questions and were horrified when he explained that they cannot knock on his door as he will not hear. They didn’t get it at first but then started to realise the implications of his being there and panicked. As I walked back to my pad at 4am, I wondered how this was all going to work out.

Over that week the staring I usually get went to a whole new level. A white woman, using Sign Language and guiding a man around when pavements are bumpy i.e. most of the time, attracts a lot of attention. We had a few near misses with motorbikes and a few occasional collisions with Rickshaw wallahs, a few stumbling off kerbs and autos trying to drive off whilst my friend was attempting to get in. There were some funny moments and some that were pretty stressful.

The Indian ASLI conference went very well. In India the Deafblind community are not so well integrated into the Deaf community so I had to show a few people how to communicate with our honourable guest. Once people had seen hands-on signing or were told about tunnel vision, they just got on with it. Having my guest at the conference proved to be an awareness raising exercise. In fact that is how the whole trip turned out.

With the conference over we headed by coach to Jaipur. It was impossible avoiding touts whilst being a communication guide. I shouted ‘Jao!’ (go away) more times than I have had to so far. When we got to the hotel however, the receptionist started signing away. Turns out he had a Deaf friend. Bingo. A bit later on one receptionist said my guest couldn’t go out alone until we put him straight. Later that evening he successfully went out on his own in the company of a Rickshaw-wallah. Being forewarned about gem scams in Jaipur, he returned safe.

Whilst visiting the City Palace, my guest had his first haggling experience. Later a Deaf man approached us as he worked in the shop and had seen us signing. If you’re Deaf you meet other Deaf people all over the world. It’s a known phenomenon. Some people had no patience but then you can get this wherever you go and whoever you are. Many more though watched our interactions then would try to make gestures so they could communicate directly. Some helped with the job of guiding once they knew how.

We travelled onto Agra to see the Red Fort, Agra town and the infamous Taj Mahal. A place famous for touts and con artists, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I was lucky to find an auto driver to stay with us for the whole day saving us the hassle of negotiating a price each time. He was very patient and helped out whenever he could. A conman got my guest into the Taj for free as he wanted to take half our entrance fee afterwards. We went in for the cost of my ticket alone and left him outside penniless. There was more being bumped into by passers-by, more stares and logistical nightmares. When you have the beauty of the Taj in front of you though, nothing else is important.

After a late trip on the train back to Delhi we had a day of tourist fun there before my guest went home. Straight to the Red Fort where my guest got another free entry. I declined to go shopping at Janpath. The security guard looked horrified when I said it was just him going in. I told him I would happily accompany my guest if I got in free. This was declined so off I went much to the consternation of the guard.

Later we headed to Old Delhi. My guest got followed, grabbed and no amount of Jao-ing got rid of one man so we ducked into a street food place for a samosa and a lassi. Once replenished I negotiated a rickshaw so we could be cycled around the chaotic streets. When we got out our Rickshaw wallah tried to rip us off and wouldn’t give me my change. We were suddenly surrounded by ten young men who fought with him to return the cash. We ended up getting our ride for half the price I had negotiated and one man told us to leave as the argument continued. I whispered my thank yous and got my friend out of there with relief and gratitude at the kindness of strangers.

Many disabled people here are stuck at home, isolated or just not visible in public. Society here rarely sees positive role models as India has far to come in accessibility, understanding and awarding people their rights. One man told him that he was amazed as my friend was far better off than many here such as the many illiterate and destitute living in poverty. I think my guest, in his short time here, gave many people food for thought and did more than he knows for raising awareness of how it should be in India.

Would the real ASLI please stand up?

2010-02-19T13:02:00.005+05:30

Seven weeks into my placement and we had a conference for the Indian ASLI. Coincidentally ‘asli’ in Hindi means ‘real’. Only a week or so after I started work this was decided. What a shocker. VSO tells you to take it easy for the first few weeks to get to know people, learn more language, form those all important relationships we are told are critical for sustainable development. I’ll be honest. My first reaction was great! Then I descended quickly into thoughts such as ‘I’m an interpreter not a conference organiser’, ‘How can I do this when I don’t speak Hindi’, ‘Two staff members have just left, we have no capacity’, ‘We have no moolah’, blah blah blah. Often, I battled with some such negativity which had to be turned into a challenge, something positive. When you are volunteering and working in a different environment in a different way the old ways in which you used to work no longer apply. It just felt like too huge a challenge to take on so soon but you somehow have to find ways to remind yourself that it will be ok.

The support I had from other VSO volunteers here in Delhi was fantastic. One of whom is going soon and I will miss her very much. Her insight and perspective after a whopping three placements was invaluable. She would make me repeat VSO mantras over coffee outings: ‘I am here to advise’, ‘Relationships with colleagues are important – doing admin tasks are not’.

After a few hiccups and a massively steep learning curve, preparations started to go very well. We got some great speakers. We suddenly managed to get some funding and with one phone call out of the blue, we had the money. One courier lost most of our letters, our emails bounced back. Somehow some of our publicity worked. People came from all over the country from as far as Hyderabad, Chandigarh, Ludhiana and Bhopal.

Even the hiccups were dealt with efficiently and without fuss. One speaker had an emergency and could not attend so we got his presentation on DVD and played that instead. It seemed whatever happened we just handled it. I learnt a lot about my colleagues at that time and formed a deep respect for them. I like to think that the conference planning actually helped to form those important relationships.

The benefit of having such a big event early has meant I could meet many interpreters from all over the country that are already working, many without access to training or support. We completed a survey to ask members what they wanted. I now know far more about sign language interpreting and the Deaf community in India from this experience. This will inform our future planning and how I complete the placement over the next nine months. With the benefit of that all so important 20-20 hindsight, it was the ideal way to make a start on the job.

Indian ASLI Facebook Group:
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=280662800900

Websites:
http://www.signasli.org/
http://www.vso.org.uk/

The Three Month Meltdown?

2010-02-10T15:15:00.028+05:30

A few days ago, I crossed the infamous three month mark. Infamous in VSO terms and amongst volunteers here. It’s sink or swim time. If you’re going to get it bad the likelihood is it’ll happen now. A mild depression maybe, hating the country you are in, thinking about your friends, missing family, wanting to go back home. Perhaps not washing (apparently).

There’s no upset here though. That’s right...I still shower. Yes, I miss my friends and family in a way that I didn’t before. Well if you’ve only just arrived you miss people but you haven’t been gone that long. You’re so busy taking in all this information and your new surroundings. You’re in contact with people back home regularly. Maybe it’s because it’s around now that it hits home. You won’t see people for another nine months. It’s a pretty long time to miss people. Skype and emails are good but no substitute. I'd love to share a glass of wine with friends. It’d be good to see my flesh and blood in the erm...flesh.

I’ve noticed how everything just feels easier. My placement is still a challenge. I love it though and it’s much easier now I better understand what is needed. I get along with people at work and really enjoy getting to know them. My Indian Sign Language gets better for every day that I set aside time to chat to colleagues. Even my Hindi is better. On a recent trip to Janpath market, the stall holders were congratulating me on my ‘thori thori Hindi’ (literal translation: 'little/small' Hindi). Life is a little better now I can hold my own more in a negotiation with an auto driver.

I no longer haul back Kingfisher from the supermarket. We get it delivered when we need to wind down. I still get lost now and again. Who doesn’t in Delhi? The house numbers and streets defy logic. I love yoga in my local temple. I cannot describe how amazing it is to do yoga to the sound of temple bells with Yoga guru-ji. He contorts himself into assans most of us cannot do but have a laugh trying. The laughing yoga is one of the best bits. This is no stuffy yoga class back home.

I have a social life. A mix of local friends and other volunteers makes for a great support network and all together they make up an amazing bunch of people. We’ve sourced the local nightclub. Ladies night, free drinks all night is much better than it sounds. It’s a proper club, with great people. No line dancing or bad taste decor here. As long as you keep your eye out for people slipping roofies in your drink it’s pretty safe and fun.

So in answer to two people recently who said I sounded stressed from my blog. I’m not. I may write about the stresses of life here: getting parcels delivered or arguing with auto drivers. These are just observations on life here and things that have happened. Cliche alert: Overcoming these challenges and being here is one of the most rewarding things I’ve done in my life. Yes I miss people and get stressy every now and again. I like to have a trip in the diary to know I’ve got fun planned. I like keeping up with people. I treat myself to the odd shopping trip, market visit or pedicure. Cheesy I know: I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

(The Pic of the Taj is to show what a terrible life it is here!)

Queuing at the Delhi Counter

2010-02-05T00:07:00.001+05:30

This is a tale of Indian bureaucracy and a one-woman crusade to get a parcel through customs duty-free. Our story starts a few days before with an email from DHL saying I needed to pay 5,600 rupees in duty for a parcel of personal effects that had been sent over by my parents. After sending a letter and having three different people deal with my case, I was told I had to go personally to the DHL office at the airport to show some ID and collect my parcel.

10:01 Call DHL to enquire as to whether parcel is ready or not. Informed I should get there before 11:00. I explain this will very much depend on my foreigners’ ability to get an auto-rickshaw but I will do my best.

10:32 Having been turned down by three autos, a disembarking passenger takes pity on me and translates to the driver where I want to go. After agreeing to an exorbitant amount we make our way to the DHL office at the airport.

11.37 Three wrong gates and we arrive at the correct one. I am told I need a security pass to get through the gates to the DHL office. Call all three people that have been dealing with my case and DHL reception. No-one picks up. One security guard walks over to the building 100m away with my passport. He returns and I get a pass.

11.45 Irate auto driver demands payment and I leave him, mistakenly, floundering outside whilst I enter reception thinking, foolishly, that I will flash my passport and walk away with the goods into said auto and ride on home. No one is at reception. This is not a good start.

11.56 Receptionist turns up, explains everyone is in a meeting and someone with deal with me in 10 minutes. Offered a chai (to calm the irritated white woman who clearly doesn’t understand she is in India).

12.18 Chat to fellow angry queue person. He tells me DHL used to be good here. Four years ago. Stand up ask receptionist for nth time to see the person dealing with my case.

12:37 Another member of staff arrives. I repeat 12 times in a row that I want to see Miss S. This results in me saying to anything he says, ‘Get her now....just go in the meeting and get her now’. Feel like I’m losing it.

12:43 Ask for the manager. Get told she is in the same meeting. Repeat mantra...’Get her now’. Wonder if I will bang my head on wall soon like a child having a tantrum. Enter into further cahoots with lovely Sikh business man who asks me if I now think India is a third world country.

13:10 Manager comes out. Sikh man goes for it. Wondered what happened to our camaraderie seeing as I was here first. Pout. Do the patient British thing then jump into the debate. Point out a customs delay is one thing, non-communication and shoddy service from an international company is not acceptable. Tirade earns me a handshake and business card from fellow complainer.

13:20 Manager has disappeared without saying when she is coming back. I’m left on my own fuming in reception with one member of staff and the receptionist eyeing me suspiciously. Point at service excellence award of 2006 and ask them what happened.

13:33 Get allocated a DHL fixer, N, who will accompany me to customs. Pay off angry auto driver far too much but just want rid of another problem. Arrive at customs. Everyone is on lunch for another 30 minutes.

14:16 Pay to get form processed. N takes pity on me and buys me a coffee and a bread pakora as I have not bought food for the obviously long wait ahead of me. He tells me if anyone can get my parcel duty free it’s him. We laugh at his stories, laugh at my earlier tirade and shake hands. Turn round. 50 customs staff are staring at us.

14:24 N gets a phone call from the office. Customs had told DHL my parcel had been moved from courier to cargo for collection but this was not the case as the parcel has not been physically moved. We are in for at least a two hour wait. Proceed to discuss my extent of Hindi, where to buy meat, the best nightclubs in Delhi and where to go on holiday over the next hour.

15:27 Spot the suggestion box which is suspiciously empty. N takes another call from the office.

15:40 Press a button on my mobile and discover I can activate a fake incoming call on my mobile. Envisage I can use this for getting out of bad dates in future.

15:43 N takes another call, we go to the on-site bank, pay another processing fee and head back to a different counter in the customs waiting area. Back at the seats I spot a flow chart. Work out I am on step 4 of 15. Wonder if people ever die trying in this place.

15:56 Go to get form stamped by a different official and then ushered in to see the Assistant Commissioner of Customs. Hand in my form and passport and tell him my details should now be on his computer screen. He presses a button on his keyboard and waves me away.

16:01 Get my two hour security pass, which expired two hours ago extended by four hours at a different department. N looks at me apologetically.

16:03 See first sight of parcel sitting tantalisingly on a bench. I’m told I must wait for the right official to open parcel and get contents examined. He is currently in a different building. As I am waiting see sign that reassuringly says some items are duty free for import and export. The list includes human remains, eye balls and ashes. It seems like hardly anything gets through here duty free. The official turns up, inspects contents and leaves. Two men reseal package. N disappears to do paperwork with yet another official. The two men ask me for a tip. I eye ball them in disgust and state emphatically, ‘Na-hi’. I wait for the parcel to be resealed. I watch them whisper as I go to fetch N. He has now become my saviour and the only one who can get me out of here before I turn into an aforementioned duty free package.

16:11 Wonder which stage of 15 I am at. Get ushered with N’s paperwork to see Assistant Commissioner again. He does not look up as he jabs the keyboard and says, ‘still here, eh?’ Respond with a ‘yes sir’ as I’ve now learnt N’s tricks and think this might be the only way to go. There is clearly a pecking order and I don’t think feature.

16:13 Go to a different room back near the packing area. The tip boys are hanging around outside pointing and nudging each other. The head honcho is in their sipping chai and does not looking up from his glossy magazine. Two others point at the form and say it is the wrong one. Another boy is sent to sort it out. Head honcho puts down his magazine and they proceed to chat about me. I trot out my one phrase meaning ‘I can speak a little Hindi’ and it earns me instant kudos. N nods approvingly. He has become my mentor and I, his disciple. Wonder if I might have been here a little too long.

16:45 Retrieve correct form and go to see the moody officail. I have seen him three times already today. The last two times we went to his office the security men stopped asking me for my pass. N leaves room. Officer asks me how long I will be in Indai. I respond I am working for an NGO for the next year. N returns and gets print out the officer has just executed from his computer. N waves it at me and winks from behind the official’s back.

16:54 N and I collect parcel and get one of the tip boys to carry it to an auto. Nearly cry with relief and tell N to write his email address so I can recommend him for promotion in what I promise to be the best recommendation email of my life. N sees me into an auto and I shake his hand vigorously. I can see in his eyes he knows he did good today and that he has witnessed another foreigner go through the rite of passage that is Indian customs. The parcel and I rattle around in the auto on the long journey home. Walk out of customs si hours after arriving. Feel like a changed woman.

We Can Work it Out...

2010-01-31T11:52:00.001+05:30

I haven’t yet blogged about work yet and I guess it is time that I did as that is what I have come here to do. Although my CEO reads this so I will be careful about what I say! (joke!)

My overall feeling is one of enjoying my placement. The people are brilliant; I’m learning Indian Sign Language and people share their lunch. Well, these things are important! I was told before I started by the other Deafway volunteer that the staff liked Nutella sandwiches. Everyone here brings their own lunch in little tiffin boxes with chapattis wrapped in foil. The boxes usually have anything from mixed veg, Aloo Gobi and other veggie cooked stuff that tastes amazing and I can’t name. They hanker after my pasta, try my fishcakes and seem astounded if I manage to cook Indian. They also tell me everything needs more salt. They’re right.

Everything you are told in your VSO training, you are told for a reason. It is so easy to forget all of this when you start. The mantra is relationships are important, take time to build them, don’t be task-orientated, you are there to advise. How easy it is to get caught up in tasks rather than holding back and trying to see the bigger picture first. Anything done in the first month will inevitably be wrong as there is no way you will have understood the wider context, either of the organisation or the country.

Working here hasn’t been without its frustrations and that would be the biggest downside. The aim was to work alongside one Deaf person and one Interpreter to set up training. The interpreter left for a month to be with her husband and get pregnant and the Deaf person left for a government job. These are the two most highly prized things in Indian society: having children, more specifically a son, and having a job for life that comes with benefits. Sometimes I have to downgrade my expectations from what I thought I would achieve. The PHD won’t be on the cards just yet. I’m settling for creating partnerships and capacity in an interpreting organisation that will strengthen, influence and shape interpreting in India for hopefully years to come. Not that it is ‘settling’ for anything, it’s a tall order and slightly different from the original placement. I should have known. VSO told us it would happen. Cor, they know so much!

Looking back on my first two months in placement, there are times I feel I’ve achieved little but I know I’ve achieved more than is quantifiable in western terms. I’ve made contacts, built those oh-so-important relationships, read a lot and understand a lot more about the complicated context in which I will be working over the coming year. I work alongside my colleagues too and we discuss work problems. Some days it all feels normal then I look back at what I would have been doing in the UK and I know it is a cliche but I feel this immense privilege that I am here. Actually the first thought is usually...bloody hell!

Jaiho Jaipur

2010-01-28T11:33:00.006+05:30

At the weekend a few of us went on a trip to Jaipur for a break out of the chaos that can be Delhi. We went to a literary festival at the Diggi Palace hosted by William Darymple. In it's 5th year, the festival was pretty well attended. As I'll be back in Jaipur in two weeks, I didn't see so much of the famous 'Pink City'. I did get time to find out about the Camel Festival in March with an Elephant Festival later on in the festvial season. Only 6 hours away from Delhi, it was a good escape and the bus was cheap. Even the deluxe version was good and nicer than the train.

Other writers in attendance were Roddy Doyle, Hanif Kureshi, Niall Ferguson, Shoma Chaudhury (Editor of Tehelka magazine), Ayaan Hirsi Ali (living under a Fatwa for speaking out against Islam) and many others. There was a special focus on Dalit literature, also known as the 'untouchable' caste. At times it felt like literature was the new Rock n' Roll for the middle classes.

The cars still honked. There were still no pavements. We were treated like tourists. It was all somehow different though. We swanned around pretending we were on holiday. We ate dinner and drank beer in rooftop bars. We shopped and took photographs. Coming back I felt different about Delhi. A sort of calm resignation that this was where I lived and it wasn't so bad at all. Perhaps it is because Delhi may be starting to feel like home.

Bollywood: Aquafresh on Acid

2010-01-21T01:57:00.004+05:30

Coming up to three months in India it was about time I went to see my first Bollywood movie. The film everyone is talking about here is The 3 Idiots. This is modern Bollywood but it’s indisputably Bollywood all the same. The Indian cinema experience is strange. No laptops, cameras or chewing gum. You get turned away or these things get taken away if you have any on your possession as you go through the airport style security. Ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right.

Inside, the reclining seats are pretty plush for what amounts to less than a few quid. Once I’d tuned in to some of the Hindi, I started to relax and enjoy the film. I got the gist of it. With the visual gags and the occasional bits of English dialogue it was easier to pick up the clues. Some was lost on me in the nuances of language but having done my research I hung on in there. Of course the songs and dance routines were entertaining. Seeing grown men dancing around in towels, breaking into song whilst brushing their teeth was a bit like watching the 1980s Aquafresh advert on acid. The next morning in my kitchen I was waiting for the kettle to boil. I couldn’t place the strange lyrics that seemed catchier than an S Club 7 hit. It took me a while to realise what I’d been singing but then I’m never that good in the mornings.

Bollywood films are famous for not displaying sex. Too taboo in India. This is a country where apparently no-one has sex before marriage but the numbers of teenage abortions are sky-rocketing. On screen, in the 1970s, there were apparently careful visualisations instead. Just when you’re expecting the main characters to get it on, a flower may appear instead to blossom or be pollinated by a bee before normality resumed. I was a bit surprised then when the main couple broke out into song and suddenly had on flimsy clothes. They were dancing, it rained. Soon they were bouncing around and their clothes went see-through. Easier to imagine what could happen next then without the Chelsea Flower Show type display.

The storyline was pretty diverse and epic. There was the whole gamut of emotions: birth, illness, death (not just one), a funeral, a near marriage and lots of men crying. The main character was nearly superhuman. He saved several lives. This included saving a baby and its labouring mother by building, A-Team stylee, a vacuum pump from a Hoover to suck out the stuck child. In nearly three hours the audience had the entire spectrum of the human experience.

The film may have been cheesier than the Stilton I crave but it was all fun. The scenery was stunning and I’ll definitely be jetting off to Leh soon. This is westernised Bollywood and I loved it. That, folks, was what you’d call entertainment and it’s currently showing in 53 cinemas in the UK.

Shut up and Drive

2010-01-15T21:36:00.003+05:30

(Pic from: http://rickshawchallenge.com/blog/)

It’s official, auto drivers have become the bane of my life. I’ve spent three patient months trying to understand but they are an alien breed to me. You think you’ll get there for 40 rupees. They want 80. But then there’s the 100% mark up to factor in. It’s the skin tax. A local friend told me his wife, having lived here for 25 odd years still pays it.

You think if you speak Hindi you might get say, a discounted 50% skin tax. They think you’re cute. The next question is inevitably, “Shaddi-shudda hai?” No I’m not married but I am sane. I don’t know this in Hindi so the last time this happened I ended up married with 10 children.

I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. Not anymore, it’s war. No more ‘Yes your medicine costs 200 rupees’ knowing I’ll get asked at the end to pay for it. Note to self: learn Hindi for: ‘I won’t be paying for that’.

Most people in my office use Indian Sign Language and English. Everyone in Delhi speaks some English. My Hindi improves slowly due to lack of use. I’m from the UK too, I like pavements and walking. Neither are seen as necessary in Delhi so I have to get in an auto now and again. When I do, I find myself putting on the don’t-mess-with-me-face. It doesn’t work. Within thirty seconds it’s ‘where are you from?’ Reply in Hindi, they think I’m cute, they ask if I’m married. See second paragraph. The first few times I played along. Once I got assaulted. Well he did that thing that boys used to do in the playground at school to make you feel sick. They shake your hand then wiggle their index finger on your palm as an indication they want to have sex. I nearly threw up on the spot and the driver couldn’t stop laughing at my face which had ‘No!!!’ written all over it.

In the UK we chat to our taxi drivers. We talk shit and banter. We swap stories. They tell you about the celebrities they had in their cab last week. Not here. Not that Bollywood celebs would be seen dead in an auto anyway. It’s no more Hindi practice in autos now. It’s no more Mr Nice Guy. Charge me skin tax? You can shut up and drive.

It’s Christmas Time...

2010-01-01T18:24:00.015+05:30

Most of the festive season has been spent shopping for the new flat. It felt a bit like doing the Boxing Day sales in the UK but instead of a shopping centre filled with rampant bargain hunters this was rushing round Indian markets for duvets and a potato peeler. Xmas day was a break from the shopping. 12 volunteers piled round to one of our flats. The emails started a couple of weeks before: what would we eat, who was bringing what and could we bag the projector from the VSO office to watch a bit of James Bond?

With no oven, we settled on Turkish chicken takeaway and some stuffing balls fried up on the stove. Sitting on the balcony chatting in the winter sun slurping a red wine before dinner was lovely. For afters we had what was left of the mountain of cheese that a visitor had brought over for a party the week before. The Delhi volunteers swooped in at the end of that party so we could get some Stilton for Xmas day. One of the vols though managed to scoff most of the cheese before we got to the party though. Sacrilege!

It was certainly strange not to be around family but MSN was a saver. We had some games, more red wine and the guitar was out in the evening. A street band saw the party and come round beating their drums. One volunteer got on the guitar, sat on the balcony and tried to get them to beat along to Jingle Bells. It was hard to hear anything above their drums so they missed his point but it didn’t matter. Xmas Day was finished by seeing another couple of visitors and eating their Xmas pudding before heading home in a freezing cold auto to the lovely new flat.

On NYE there was a few of us on a terrace ploughing through a case of Kingfisher. It was a right laugh listening to Spotify and coming up with the most random playlists. It was the coldest and foggiest NYE I’ve ever had. To warm up we ate spicy chicken rolls and slung back a vodka shot. We nearly missed midnight until we heard another party cheering. After midnight there was a partial lunar eclipse of the ‘blue moon’. We also got to see a refraction that made it look like another real blue moon. We danced on the terrace to keep warm until we couldn’t drink anymore and it was time to head home.

Having spent much of the last week settling in it’s been a good time to reflect on the year gone by and what my next year will be like, the majority of which will be in Delhi completing this project I’ve come here to do.

YouTube clip of Xmas day here.

Flat hunting: The one with the Broker Wars

2009-12-25T02:39:00.003+05:30

There’s been mayhem, stress, upsets and danger in the hunt for a flat. It’s been a better drama than an Eastenders Christmas Omnibus with more memorable storylines. But perhaps that’s an easy accomplishment.

N & I decided to share a flat as we’d shared a room for four weeks through the training and orientation period. No mean feat given that rooms were maybe 10 x 10 feet with a small en-suite bathroom. Sharing was a sensible move as one bed flats in Delhi are hard to come by and with an allowance of 8,000 rupees each per month (about £106 GBP) this doesn’t get you much here.

Potential VSOers should not be put off. Countries vary and even in India the situation of fellow volunteers in other parts of India are completely different. Delhi just happens to be more difficult. Much more difficult. We’d decided to look around ourselves for various reasons but in Delhi two Western women usually means an inflation of the rental price by about a third.

We went through many brokers. We’ve seen flats that felt like terrorist cells. We’ve been called so many times by one broker it was nearly harassment. Another we could not communicate with, our Hindi being so limited at this stage. One admitted he struggled finding anything in our price range as bigger flats were built for families who in Indian culture have less privacy. Two single Westerners like having doors on the bedrooms and not having to walk through them to get to the main bathroom. Flats just weren’t built for us.

But finally about a week into the search we found a place. A week sounds like nothing in Western time but you don’t see pictures or get to read blurb on a property. You get in an auto and go to see the place. We’d visited 16 in a week, 10 in the first weekend alone. ‘The Taj’ as we named her was the one. On our second visit we were invited to have chai with the landlord and his son. We chatted, were told we would be treated like his daughters and we negotiated a price. Two days later we hadn’t sorted out the finer details between our NGOs, VSO and us. The Taj went to someone else. So much for being family. Gutted we had to haul ourselves around Delhi once more.

We got into situations we shouldn’t have for the sake of getting somewhere quickly. Neither of us wanted to carry on living in hostels having been in them for four weeks. We got on the back of brokers’ motorbikes without helmets as we were repeatedly told, ‘another flat is around the corner, Madam’. Calling brokers from the internet and having to meet them at properties. The worst situation was the day of ‘broker wars’. One day a younger broker had shown us two flats. Neither suitable he offered to show us more the next day. He turned up with a friend in a car who thought he was Mr. Smooth. N got offered an invite to a Hindi wedding and a jacuzzi. The next day they repeatedly called us. We were with another broker and they showed up to try and get us to see the same flat. Whilst sitting in our broker’s car, we saw the younger brokers drive by with their tinted windows. They returned and Mr. Smooth got out. All pointed white leather shoes and black velvet jacket, on the pull. I cringed thinking an argument was about to occur. Whose patch were we on anyway? Our older broker got out shook their hands and introduced himself. We had to excuse ourselves and lied that we were about to sign a deal. All because we were Western women and the young broker had obviously got his friend along for some fun.

Contrary to the Hollywood stereotype that has permeated some of India, we’re not easy. We didn’t want to go to a club, just a flat. After all the drama, there’s no Eastenders ending thankfully. We got lucky and found a flat. We had more drama and nearly lost this one too. Eventually we got the deal done and moved in today. It’s Christmas Eve and after two weeks of nightmare stress; it’s been the best Christmas present I could have had this year.

On the Road for Deaf Drivers?

2009-12-24T04:01:00.013+05:30

I was asked to go on short day trip with work. Excited to be on a train out of Delhi, it was a great chance to chat to my colleagues out of the office, to get ideas about where my work with them and VSO will go. On arrival we got picked up by a Deaf man. I was astounded. I’d noticed some tweets on Twitter before I came to India that Deaf people aren’t allowed to have driving licences and here was someone Deaf driving.

It was explained like so: they can drive so they do, the law is behind on these things. Fair play. India is more than behind on this one, why wait?

The Chief Executive of my organisation is currently going through every law relevant to Deaf people in India, and there are many, to advise government about the necessary changes to bring them in line with the UNCRPD and human rights recommendations. He has been reading out of parts of the law and they are archaic. It’s a bit like hearing about some of the old laws in the UK still in existence such as, a man who feels compelled to urinate in public can do so only if he aims for his rear wheel and keeps his right hand on his vehicle.

The National Association for the Deaf (NAD) has been campaigning for Deaf people to be able to hold driving licences for some time. Last week NAD were featured on page two of a national newspaper, The Hindustan Times. There was news that the Supreme Court of India had turned down their appeal on the grounds that driving here is more dangerous and they wouldn't be able to hear the honking.

In comparison to some countries driving here is more dangerous but that doesn’t make Deaf people any less able to drive. There are only 26 countries where Deaf people are not yet legally allowed to drive. It’s a shame then that India is one of them. Anyone who has been to Rome or Paris can see the chaos there where Deaf people are allowed to drive. Can a driver playing tunes with a thumping bass hear the honking? The appeal was turned down illogically. I spent some time in the car and I was no more scared than I usually am!

Sign 4

2009-12-20T00:05:00.001+05:30

They say try not to see anyone from home in the first few months of your placement as it can make you feel homesick. I didn’t have much choice as I attended the Sign 4 conference held in New Delhi from the 17-19/12/09. Needless to say, I didn’t feel homesick but rather it was great to see some familiar faces and hear about people’s experiences of India. I’m extremely grateful to two British colleagues who I’d texted beforehand and they’d brought over some supplies for me. Thank you both (you know who you are)! As an aside, these supplies were Marmite, Nutella and red wine. You can get anything you want in New Delhi but it comes with a price. A small jar of Marmite comes in at a fiver. To put it into perspective, this is more than a day’s allowance. Eating local wherever you are is always going to be cheaper.

The conference didn’t directly relate to my placement as it was on Sign Language linguistics but as it turned out it gave me an overview of the development of interpreting in India from the perspective of a University and a chance to meet some Deaf people from India. I could also practice my International Sign Language and meet Deaf people from around the world. There are many reasons I am doing a VSO placement. One of them is that I’d been after some international experience for a while. There are a few conferences around the world you can attend in linguistics, Sign Language, and both Deaf and interpreting associations. This felt like the start of that international experience except I was there as a new resident of India to work with the community here for the next year.

How good it was to see an International conference for Deaf people held on Indian soil. There is much to do here for Deaf people and any international events can only strengthen the case for government to set up the post of an Interpreter for Deaf people. Until it does it will be unlikely that people will want to work as interpreters with no formal employment and no recompense for that role. The government has said it will recognise the job when there are more interpreters. The chicken and the egg? It seems so. I hope that any work I can do out here can play some part in getting the egg hatched.

First Day at the Office

2009-12-10T02:29:00.003+05:30

The flat hunting saga continues but work must carry onas ever. I spent the first two days of this week visiting many flats with nothing vaguely suitable. It's quite weird searching out accommodation in Delhi and the search has certainly been eventful. But that is a whole other story.

It is Wednesday and it feels good to have gone to work today to start what I came here to do, four weeks after arriving in country. In country orientation (ICO) involves four weeks of talks and language training. In our intake we also had a strategy conference thrown in which was by far the most beneficial part of our ICO as it was an opportunity to hear from Indian speakers who were heads of NGOs, experienced VSOers and a leading academic talking about key trends in India.

By the end of ICO everyone is itching to get to their placements. Having said goodbye to most of the 18 people with six of us staying behind in Delhi, it was time to start work. I’d been to my new office the week before to say hi to the staff and still managed to get lost.

It was an enjoyable twenty or so minutes as Nehru Place is an entertaining corner of Delhi. The main part looks a little like a built up 1960s British concrete shopping centre. A grew up near one in Edmonton in London. The same one that was immortalised by Frank Spencer in an episode of Some Mothers do Have ‘Em. You may remember the episode where he is uncontrollable on rollerskates. You can’t see much of the centre on the clip but it is similar to the old Tricorn in Portsmouth. The difference here is Nehru Place is a hotbed of IT activity. The middle of the street is taken over by men selling wallets, shoes, socks and ripped Hindi movies. Apart from a few cloth shops, most of the rest sell IT goods or can repair them. Want a laptop in Delhi? This is the place to come. It is to computers and stereos what Tottenham Court Road is to London.

Amongst the wallets teenage boys lurk waving lists in plastic wallets of every type of copied software imaginable. Sam Miller in his book on Delhi said Microsoft once hired an elephant to trample on CDs in Nehru Place to make a point. He then states many of the sellers brag that Microsoft employees based in Nehru Place often buy fake copies of Windows themselves.

My first day was great. I got to meet more staff, learnt more about what my VSO placement will entail and practice more Indian Sign Language. My laptop had a mini-malfunction but thanks to one of the IT shops the staff managed to get it connected to the network. It seems I’ll get stared at a lot working around here as I didn’t see one other Westerner today. It may take some getting used to, but it’s quite nice being in this corner, away from tourists and a lot of other expats.

The YouTube clip is available here.

Volunteering to Clean up the Yamuna

2009-12-06T01:59:00.002+05:30

Only two days after attending my first big event in India I got on a bus with 10 or so other volunteers and turned up at the infamous Yamuna River in Delhi for the next event, International Volunteering Day. I say infamous as the Yamuna is known as a bacteria-ridden sludge fest running alongside the east of Delhi. Sam Miller in his book on Delhi points out that great cities have been built around their rivers. Paris on the Seine, London around the Thames. The Yamuna is neglected, ignored and often used as a rubbish tip. Many homeless people live on its banks and life down here is another world separate from life in the rest of the city.

The aim of the day was to clean up the Yamuna. A passing journalism student had heard the band and seen all the school children. She wandered up and I explained that we were helping the bus loads of school children clean up the Yamuna. As we stood there in blue rubber gloves with rakes she looked incredulous and stated this was impossible. Of course, we added, this wasn’t the entire point of the day. The point was to involve children and young people in issues directly affecting their community, to promote active citizenship and volunteering. This seemed to be a concept that wasn’t understood. Behind us a few locals were chucking rubbish over the bridge into the river as the children was trying to rake out debris from the Yamuna’s murky shorelines. We pointed at the children and said the future of India. The journalism student pointed at the people on the bridge.

The buses kept coming, the bands kept playing and the rubbish kept coming. Soon the banks in the allotted space were full and the stash of rubber gloves has run out. Within an hour people has moved past the roped off area and had moved down the shore in a breakaway faction. One volunteer beckoned another group of us over to help. There were children, adults, volunteers and other expats working in NGOs raking rubbish out of the river, balking at the methane released by trash being disturbed. There was a sense of togetherness as people just got on with the job at hand.

The media present rightfully saw a good photo opportunity. Two photographers and one cameraman were present for over an hour clicking away at people working together, passing down empty bowls to be filled with the ever increasing mounds of plastic bags, city detritus and nameless lumps of half degraded black smelly goo. We were excited the next day when a few volunteers got their photos in the newspaper working away with some local people. One story though had completely missed the point as had the student. It pontificated: why hadn’t the government cleaned up the river, why were school children doing this, what was the point of an event like this.

Talking to the excellent organisation, Swechha, who ran the event, would have shown what the aims were. Walking around the stalls of NGOs, chatting to people, listening to the bands and the impassioned speeches from VSO and the UN would have made it clear. The title of the event itself was pretty obvious. The easiest thing of all to understand was the determination that people showed on the day, the way that they worked together and the enjoyment of community spirit and coming together that was apparent all around.

YouTube clip now available.

World Disability Day 2009

2009-12-03T23:42:00.001+05:30

Some countries call it the International Day of People with Disabilities. Others the World Disability Day (WDD) as it is named in India. Whatever the label, with 70 million disabled people in India it is a day that needs celebration. A day that asks politicians to sit up and take notice. A day for disabled people to raise awareness and to champion their cause.

WDD has been held for the last 3 years at India Gate, under its imposing arch, far bigger than the Arc d’triomphe or Marble Arch. India currently has the People with Disabilities Act (1995). An act that disabled people and organisations say is weak. It follows the medical model of disability which says that disability is something to be treated. It does not address fully what society can or should do for disabled people or what their rights are in terms of education, health and access.

Despite this seemingly weak stance India ratified the UN Convention of Rights for Disabled People (UNCRPD) on 1st October 2007. It was the sixth country to do so but so far it is a piece of tokenism. Little has happened since. The underlying theme of WDD in India this December was to refuse amendments to the current law and create a stronger rights-based law, empowering disabled people to live fulfilled lives as equal citizens.

With regard to Deaf people the current law mentions Deaf people a handful of times including once in a definition, twice in the names of organisations that serve the Deaf community. There is not much else. It is as useful as a jumper on a hot summer day in Delhi.

It was gratifying to be part of the day, to see people out in force. With 5,000 people present it occurred to me that the many people attending seemed to be Deaf. I asked someone where everyone else was. I was informed transport is so inaccessible here that many who would have wanted to attend would not have been able to do so. Many NGOs do not have spare funds to put on transport to solve this issue. Without this, without disabled people turning up at events in force there is less likelihood of politicians seeing the changes that are necessary.

Perhaps enough will be done by the disabled people’s movement as a whole and by pressure from NGOs and external countries to get India's politicians to catch up. Perhaps there will be funding and transport for people to attend. Perhaps media efforts will be enough to raise the profile of disabled people in India. What I saw today was some incredibly passionate and committed people. A feeling of disappointment at the past but hope for the future. People had come from as far away as Orissa and Pune to attend. We're talking over 24 hours spent on a train to be there.

The UN’s message for WDD was ‘realising the Millennium Development Goals for all. These goals were set out by the UN to be achieved by 2015. They include providing a universal education for all and eradicating poverty and hunger. With disabled people often being the poorest in society due to a lack of access and exclusion from society, India has a lot of work to do over the next six years.

YouTube clip online now.

Delhi's Homeless

2009-11-28T03:24:00.002+05:30

We had a visit organised for tonight to one of the homeless shelters run by AAA, an Action Aid funded project. It was a little different to a Friday night back home.

In two cars with my group of 14 volunteers, we dodged the Delhi traffic then ground to a halt. We were bemoaning the fact the visit had been organised on a Friday when presumably traffic is worse. I’m not actually sure it makes a difference what day it is but the traffic did seem worse. We spent an hour inching forward and passing time by discussing the difference in the political structures of the UK, USA, Kenya, Canada and Ireland. As we approached Old Delhi it was apparent what had caused the delay. A melee of goats and their owners were struggling in the space where cars should have been, reducing the number of lanes from three to one. Translated this is space for six cars abreast which had been reduced to space for one car and perhaps a rickshaw. Our taxi driver explained the chaos. The next day was Eid al-Adha, a Muslim festival celebrating the prophet Abraham by sacrificing a goat. Our companions on the road were all going to die tomorrow.

We finally arrived and with dead legs and grumbling stomachs, any moaning ceased as we entered the shelter. It was hard to make out the entrance in the chaos of Old Delhi. We went through a door between the market stalls and cows. Inside was a long corridor with huge rooms leading off into masses of people covered in blankets on metal cots or lying on the floor. We were lead by P and S, two incredibly passionate and dedicated men, to the children’s room at the back. We went through the room one-by-one to a space at the back a room for a talk on the centre. As we passed the room full of 30 boys aged 10 – 13 years old, they shouted ‘Namaste!’ at us. I was astounded at the work done by the volunteers at the centre and the initiatives that have helped the people that shelter here. With 150,000 homeless in Delhi the managers of the shelters and the volunteers work hard. This figure does not include those that live in semi-permanent shacks and structures that aren’t fit for humans to live in.

S seemed to be drained and he mentioned that it was a 24/7 job campaigning for the rights of the homeless in Delhi and trying to keep the shelters open. AAA has a few shelters open around the city but does not cater for women or girls due to one of the shelters being shut down. That leaves an estimated 10,000 homeless females on the streets.

There are many projects at AAA, two of which belied a shocking fact. Firstly, AAA runs a ‘beggar’s court’ where homeless people put in prison can have access to a lawyer and time away from the jail. Secondly, there is a scheme where people can register and get ID cards enabling them to have access to banks, other services and a proof of their ID. The reason for these projects is the Police can ‘push’ on people without ID. They can also arrest anyone seen to be begging or even if they look unwashed, unkempt and homeless. This brings me to the shocking fact: someone may then be put in jail for three years just for being homeless.

Rather than resolve the issue of the homeless, this is a way of rounding people up and sticking them in jail away from public sight. The government however, do seem to be recognising that there is such a thing as ‘homelessness’ which they haven’t in the past. No doubt the issue will have to be addressed. It is one that hopefully will be increasingly more important with the run up to the Commonwealth Games in Delhi in October 2010.

YouTube clip online now.

Can tech savvy teens affect change in India?

2009-11-25T19:50:00.001+05:30

I’ve been at a VSO strategy conference all day on the outskirts of Delhi with the aim of helping to shape VSO India’s next three year strategy. We’ve had brilliant presentations that have put why I am here into India’s political, social and cultural context. A few random and surprising facts:

• 40% of India’s population are 13-25 year olds
• 40% live in cities
• The emerging middle class of 330 million people are mostly indifferent to the poor in their country
• Young people are not engaged with their country
• The Indian government only spends 1% of its GDP on public health (in comparison to around 6% in a developed country)
• A third of the world’s poor live in India
• There are 45 million internet users
• And 330 million people own a mobile phone...
• ...with another 15 million a month sold
• There is a shortage of Indian volunteers on projects in their own country.

For a country touted as ‘Shining India’ where is the government move to engage the young and middle classes, to promote active citizenship, to encourage those that are better off to help the poor in their own country?

Looking at the stats and facts above it seems obvious to me that technology and social media should play an important role in engaging the young who are the country’s future into actively playing a part in assisting their fellow citizens. With a largely corporate media do they not hear the widespread rural poverty, of the farmers committing suicide due to falling cotton prices or the wrong crops no longer suiting their climate-changed fields? If someone were to make it cool to spread this news, to become involved, to send tweets protesting for social change, to create Facebook groups, to document the failings of the government to enact change...perhaps India’s next generation would be the ones to realise that change. To be the change that you want to see in the world? It’s what the Father of India, Gandhi, wanted.

Delhi Eat-a-thon

2009-11-21T21:24:00.008+05:30

I’ve now been in India for two weeks and it’s about time I mentioned food. It is a big topic of conversation between all the volunteers here in Delhi as we love it. We are provided with breakfast and lunch at our training centre. The food is good although thankfully the breakfast is not curry.

Lunch is a variety of curries, lentil Dhals, potato dishes and rice. There is usually Roti provided, an unleavened round bread otherwise known as a Chapatti. I find these a welcome choice if the curry is particularly oily or cooked with plenty of ghee, a clarified butter that will happily clog your arteries. The Roti is particularly good with the blow-your-head-off lime pickle, extra chillies included.

We eat out in the evenings. There is a really good vegetarian restaurant within walking distance and a belly-busting dinner can be yours for 100 rupees (just over one British pound). The Aloo Dam is an amazing mix of cauliflower and soft potato. It’s a welcome not-so-spicy alternative to curry. The butter Naans here are a hit amongst the volunteers due to their similarity to hot buttered toast. Others tell me the Tandoori Chicken is a hit. Any food here washed down with a sweet yoghurt Lassi is a perfect cheap meal.

A local auto rickshaw ride away provides a few options, the best being another veggie restaurant serving Dosas. These light pancakes, filled with a potato and veg mix served with extra fillings and coconut chutney, are a good choice for curry-weary travellers. Otherwise, I have mostly gone for the curry options: mixed veg Parantha (stuffed pancake that is deep-fried) with hot chutneys and a variety of Masala curries including Paneer (cheese curry which is delicious believe or not).

I have mainly been vegetarian here for a few reasons. Cows are sacred in Hinduism so beef is never eaten, the lamb is often mutton or can be goat in disguise. It is hard to tell where meat is from and food poisoning is less likely on a veggie diet. There is little reason to eat meat though as often restaurants don’t serve meat and there is a great variety of well-cooked delicious dishes.

On the whole the food has been great and we have all over-eaten on occasion in an attempt to try everything on the menus. Some of the group aren't used to hot food though and have been struggling to get food they find palatable. Although I’ve enjoyed and mostly stuck to Indian food over my first two weeks I have cracked on occasion. Last night a group of four of us crept away secretly to a nearby McDonalds to order McVeggie burgers and Masala spicy fries. It seems we weren’t alone in wanting a break from the food as on ascending the stairs we discovered another four volunteers silently munching away on their chicken McMaharaja burgers.

Market Mayhem

2009-11-15T00:03:00.000+05:30

Free from the confines of the group with the weekend ahead, I could plan a day out. I feel I get on with everyone here but I find it tough living so closely with people every day. Sharing breakfast, language classes, lunch, shopping at the market, dinner, trying to use the internet in the common room or even grabbing a cup of tea is all done alongside a few other volunteers if not the whole group. My roommate and I decided to stay clear of the tourist areas as we are in Delhi for the whole year. A good plan as we headed to a local area to suss out what kind of area we could end up living in.

We negotiated a good fare to Lajpat Nagar where we know two other volunteers live. We were greeted with total chaos on the roads as we got out of our auto-rickshaw. Beeping horns, street smells and the pandemonium of humanity was a highly charged assault on the senses. Within five minutes we had stumbled into the local market and with it being mainly pedestrianised we were away from the road and although busy not as frantic as the car chaos we had left behind. Star purchase of the day was a pillow for 100 rupees to replace the brick like ones back at the institute. The best 100 rupees I have ever spent.

Getting back wasn’t so much fun as roads had been closed and it took flagging down about 7 autos before we could get one to take us and we had to give him double the price. I enjoyed the ride back though as we got to see the train station and the dangerous looking open crossing. Stuck in traffic we got many stares. What I loved was our driver chatting away or arguing with car drivers around as they were so close to each other. The downside to this was as Westerners stuck in traffic we were the focus of several stares as we were sat there powerless to do anything but smile back. Nothing offensive though and it was fairly funny.

Later we went out to the Defence Colony for some food and managed to get something less spicy for a bit of a breather whilst settling in. The beer was fairly cheap and many women were in this bar too. As it was 50% price on the second beer we had a couple more beers. Well it would have been rude not too. The greatly moustachioed doorman high-fived us on the way out and it was time for a ride home to sleep on my newly soft and fluffy pilllow.

To Beer or not to Beer

2009-11-14T04:59:00.000+05:30

This afternoon we were told Indian women rarely drink alcohol and they will usually drink soft drinks when out. Drinking is generally frowned upon. Now, I haven’t had any alcohol at all since arriving here and I understand going out to drink blows the allowance although beer can be bought in bottle shops for 40 rupees. I don’t want to sound like an alcoholic but in the UK alcohol is such a big part of our culture from socialising in pubs to eating out with some wine. I’ve asked myself if I could go dry for the year and although most of the time I won’t want a beverage, I can imagine a cold beer in 40 degree heat on a weekend relaxing with some new friends or having a beer in front of an episode of Gavin & Stacey would go down a treat.

After our classes today, all the staff and volunteers went to dinner. I’m so enjoying the food: huge pancakes called dosas, potato dishes spiced with mustard seeds, mixed thalis, eye wateringly hot chutneys and oh so sweet lassi drinks. I’ve managed to be vegetarian so far which isn’t hard as there are plenty of great cheap restaurants that don’t even serve meat. I’d like to be able to last as long as possible without any illness or food poisoning. This seems like some kind of rite of passage in turning into a Delhite or more culturally correct, a Dilliwa (Delhi is known locally as Dilli and wa means person).

After dinner a few of us went for beers. My new Deaf colleague was there so although I did some social interpreting (tiring when you don’t yet fully know the language) it was good to relax. The beer was 200 rupees. Put into perspective, my daily allowance is 285. The bar was in the more hip district of Haus Khas compared to our accommodation on Lodhi Road so that accounted for the price alone. I loved the retro furniture and the fact I was somewhere where I could go if I felt like going somewhere that felt a bit closer to home with its interesting mix of Western and Indian culture. What I loved even more though was the women were...drinking beer. I slurped away happily from that moment on, in the knowledge I could access my savings for the occasional night out.

Back to School

2009-11-13T23:44:00.008+05:30

We have now had a day of introductions and a further two days of training. This has been Hindi lessons in the morning which are fun but hard. There are currently 15 volunteers. Another three are due to arrive but are having problems getting their visas approved by their respective Indian Embassies in Ireland, Australia and England. We have been split into two groups to reduce the size of the class. Learning Hindi is fun and although hard not especially difficult compared to any other language. There are many fits of giggles as we get things wrong. We have limited time to learn so I am aiming for 30 minutes every day or so but I am sure this willbe difficult as time seems to evaporate here.

Each trip out for dinner or to Lodhi Gardens takes at least 15 minutes as the road is so packed and busy. Going for a run yesterday meant dodging 6 lanes of rush hour traffic, some open sewers, wonky pavements and road works in order to get to a park where risk of breaking your neck trying to exercise was greatly reduced. I’ve been told we are in the area where refugees used to come to live on arrival in Delhi. This seems like a good way of assimilating all the volunteers into Indian life. We have good parts and not so good parts here. It is not just getting around that takes ages as bureaucracy is a factor. Even getting a pay as you go sim for my mobile has meant copies of passport, visa and a photo. I don’t relish trying to set up a bank account or getting an internet connection. These things seem to take weeks to sort out.

The last lesson for this week was on Indian Sign Language. I was asked to speak briefly about sign languages and then the Deaf chef from the VSO office was drafted in to teach everyone a few signs and chat to the class. It’s a shame there wasn’t more time to prep for the session and to chat to my colleague beforehand. Nevertheless I managed to interpret for the class so they got both an idea of sign language, Deaf awareness and how an interpreter works.

A Wecome to VSO India

2009-11-12T04:50:00.001+05:30

After language lessons in the morning we were herded into these fantastically old-fashioned taxis. I sat in the front and got told to pretend my seat belt was on. There was no other end for the seat belt to go. As we sped round roundabouts and our driver aggressively dogged traffic my feet were twitching as if I might somehow be able to hit the brakes should we be heading for a collision.

We arrived at the VSO India Programme Office with a very warm welcome of garlands of fragrant carnations strung about our necks. We were introduced to the office staff. As I was saying my name I looked up and saw a member of staff signing to another so I waved a hello and signified that I knew sign language. The head of the office asked how we knew each other. I said I didn’t but just recognised that someone was Deaf and was saying hello. Therein lies one beauty of sign language and being able to communicate, albeit slowly perhaps with anyone in the world. It turned out the Deaf man was the cook and after a gorgeous lunch of spicy beans, a spinach and paneer (cheese) dish, rice and chapattis we got a chance to chat more.

I was surprised to see a lot of crossover with British Sign Language. I could use the British alphabet which was still used in India alongside another set of differently signed Indian vowels but either signs could be used. Some signs such as ‘mother’, ‘father’ and ‘work’ were clearly taken from American Sign Language and some were quintessentially Indian such as ‘born’, ‘taxi’ and ‘sick’. Of course it is difficult to base assumptions on having chatted with one person so I’m itching to get in the DeafWay office and start meeting more Deaf people.