Lost Weekend: Finishing up in Delhi

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. 

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

The Heat is on...

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.

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

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)

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.

Arrival and Orientation at the Indian Social Institute

We arrived at 2am at Delhi airport to a few beeping cars but it was fairly quiet other than that. I was surprised but then it was the middle of the night. We were collected by two VSO India office staff who were lovely and very welcoming. After dishing out bottles of water they bundled all of us bleary-eyed volunteers and our luggage into two cars. I sat in a child seat with another volunteer at the back. My first views of Delhi were out of the back of the car through a sunscreen.

My first impression of New Delhi was one of dust and construction. We were all told that with the Commonwealth games approaching in October 2010 the Metro was being extended along with many other building works. This was in keeping with what I had read in guide books that Delhi is under construction permanently.

On arrival at the Indian Social Institute, we were handed out towels, information packs and keys. We agreed between us to meet at a certain time for lunch as nobody was going to get up for breakfast. I didn't bother putting up the mosquito net as it was 4am and I literally fell into bed.