Coimbatore - Interpreter Training Course Number 3

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

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

Round 2: Interpreter Training in Kolkata

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...

The Indian Sign Language Academy - A Work Update

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.  

Lingua Franca

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

Easter in Varanasi – Bodies, bulls and bacteria

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.

Travels, Touts and Trauma

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?

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/

First Day at the Office

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.

A Wecome to VSO India

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.

Bob Geldof's Lost Daughter

It's been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster at times over the last week. Getting a bit stressed, then realising there's not much I actually have left to do. Getting stupidly excited then realising I'll miss friends. Then being ecstatic I'm just about to do something I've always wanted to do since I was Bob Geldof's frustrated lost daughter of the 1980's.

Ok so I'm not doing aid work in Africa nut I've always wanted to something in International Development. I also don't have rose-tinted spectacles on about the patronising 'help' I'm going to be giving. International Development has come on a long since that approach (I should say Bob didn't have that approach either). It's now about partnership, working together and leaving behind a sustainable, long-lasting effect of your work that the organisation will have worked with you on and can continue to develop.

A couple of nights ago I spent half an hour chatting to C, a volunteer in Delhi via Skype. She very generously stayed up until 2am to chat to me. The reason that she had appeared online so late was that she'd had to source some water from her neighbours when there was a problem in her flat. C and I met on one of our prep courses at VSO. She went out in July and my placement offer came a bit later. I've been emailling H too in Orissa who was on the same course. Between the two of them I have tons of info about what life might be like for me over the next year.

Now matter how much I prep I do, I'm not going to be completely prepared. Best advice C gave me? Just let it go...

H's blog has been inspiring. Her life seems very much different from how mine will be. I'll be in a big city where I can get anything (though I won't be able to afford luxury goods like imported food). H and others in the state of Orissa have troubles getting hold of toilet paper. I say hats off to them and any VSO volunteer that is a couple of days from the nearest airport. On the VSO courses you get to meet these amazing people who have spent a few years working with rural tribes in Africa and are back for another stint. Humbling. What hardship will I have to face? No red wine. Big Deal!

I don't denigrate my placement. I'll still find it hard for different reasons. After the already comprehensive support I've received before I even get out there, I know it'll all be fine. So letting it all go now and just enjoying my last 3 weeks.