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I have been invited to a Holi Festival (the evening before, which doesn’t involve throwing colored powder on people). The District Governor of the Rotary, after seeing to my comfort and health needs, has said that he will be at my hotel at 7:30 this evening to bring me to a gathering; and he will have me back to the hotel at 10:30 p.m. In the interim, I take the opportunity to leaf through the Rotary catalog he’s provided. It lists all the Rotary leaders, their professions, and the Rotary committees and projects on which they serve. He has informed me that there are more than 2000 Rotarians in this city; and 13 Rotary Clubs. Each has a President, and he is the governor over all of them. I quickly get a sense of the broad scope of their services: International peace, polio eradication, encouraging excellence in education are among them. I realize that here, the Rotary Club is not an organization that provides additional support to the social structure that is otherwise provided. Here, the Rotary is the primary provider of many basic social needs. These Rotarians are giving selflessly, volunteering huge amounts of time, and providing basic services to people who would otherwise do without.
The Rotary Governor, Mr. Tiwari, and his wife arrive at 8:15 p.m. He explains that he has had obligations at work; he owns a pole manufacturing company. So in addition to his strenuous duties looking after all of these large Rotary organizations, he is maintaining his own livelihood -- much less carting me around. But he wants me to have a good time, and to meet his fellow Rotarians. We drive off through the Saturday night streets crowded with motorbikes driven by men, their wives or girlfriends seated sidesaddle on the back. Here's a photo taken earlier during the day. This is very typical of how entire Indian families get around India's cities:
Sometimes a motor scooter’s passenger is holding hands with a bicyclist, pulling the bicycle and rider along. Trucks, buses, cars, cows, pedestrians, pushcarts—all are sharing the one lane in each direction, though all pretty freely swerve into the oncoming lane. It looks like the whole city is out, having a good time. It’s not a dangerous city at night, because the people themselves own the city at night, unlike most of America, where we stay indoors in the evening. The mass of people, the constant noise, the new sights, the relaxed attitude towards the rules of the road which lead not infrequently to near-misses at slow speed with oncoming trucks, have an unsettling effect. I simply decide to go with the flow. Much of my difficulty in relating to this society is just a matter of submitting.
We drive to the southern extremity of the city, to a well-designed and well-tended garden. It has chairs set on a spacious lawn, and broad, flower-lined pathways. Trees are laden with fruit; one has what look like huge green grapefruit. Some trees have lights in them, like Christmas lights. There are trimmed, pungent cedar bushes. When we arrive, the men and the women immediately separate; a very few women, with their husbands, mingle with the men. I like a certain type of garment some of the men are wearing, and it is described to me as a pajama, though it is a long shirt worn in public. I am introduced to a man wearing a black jacket over a pajama.
He is the Past President of this Rotary Club. He lists a string of prizes won by his club. He is a Chartered Accountant (CPA) and a lawyer, specializing in charitable taxation. His Rotary Club, he informs me, did 1,500 projects last year. I express amazement, and he says that last year they provided 100 scholarships; planted a tree in each of 100 villages; provided a mobile health project with physicians to 100 villages; installed a water project in 100 villages. He explains that when you count in hundreds, it adds up. He knows how to attract funding from international agencies, and how to provide the accounting at international standards, and last year brought in 25 million dollars for his Rotary Club's projects. He makes a trip around the world annually, visiting these agencies, and providing the documentation proving how their funds were spent. That competence bringing in that sum of money into this society, goes a very long way, in helping a multitude.
Standing next to him is a very remarkable character.
He is introduced to me as a poet. He is dressed up like no one I have ever seen in my life, with two large red dots on his forehead; a string of beads around his neck, carefully placed; granny glasses; makeup; Beatles mop hair; and on the very top of his head, his hair is tied into two little bows. He looks like a combination of Ringo Starr off to see the Mahareshi; a Peter Sellers character; and Percy Dovetonsils.
Percy
The program begins. The Rotary Governor asks me to sit up front in the first row with him. Introductions are done, and several guests including me, are each handed a long-stemmed red rose.
Then the poet takes the microphone, and once he has it, he doesn’t want to let go – nor do the people want him to. I very soon see that he is a capable standup comedian. I don’t understand a word he says, but the cadences of punch lines are the same, whatever the language, and the laughter of the crowd shows he knows how to deliver them. They are having a very good time, and they absolutely love his performance. The Rotary Governor is laughing so hard his lawn chair is shaking. His presentation goes on without letup and without notes for an hour and a half. After a while, this unrelenting string of Hindi words, punctuated by laughter at punch lines I don’t get, leads to a kind of inner disorientation. In addition I am tired and try to sit in a position to drop off to sleep. That doesn’t work. Percy is carrying on, and I am struggling to find something, anything, familiar. Everything is different – food, clothing, customs, tastes, habits, sounds, everything. I decide to take a walk through the garden. It is approaching 10:30 at night. To grasp something tangible, I handle the flowers; I squeeze some cedar and inhale its fragrance; it is very powerful, and I think of the native Americans and how important cedar is in their culture. I take out a photograph of the Universal House of Justice and look at it. I still feel like I am swimming, unmoored, and underwater; though in another sense I feel perfectly all right. I see that in a different part of the park, people are waiting with food for the program to end. There is a long line of warming dishes, and I realize that after Percy is done, the people will stroll together through the garden pathways, and a late dinner will be served.
I walk back towards the seated crowd, and sit way in the back.
Percy is still going strong, and I wonder why they have called him a poet; he seems much more like a standup comic, and I wonder if they have incorrectly named his profession. Then, his cadence changes; the laughter stops. There is a rhythm, and repeated sounds. The tone of his voice has changed; it is very soothing and warm and sincere. Now he is reciting poetry, and he has the crowd in the palm of his hand. This is the heart of the Holi celebration, and this is why they have come. The cadence and sound of his poetry reminds me of some of Tahirih’s divine love poetry I have heard chanted in Farsi. This whole evening is similar to cultural events the Iranians have; they, too, love events held in gardens, where poetry is chanted.
I am quite tired, but I move back up to the front row. When the program is over, and people are milling about, I mention something to the Rotary Governor in response to his question about what I thought of the program. He listens, then brings Percy over to me, saying, “Listen to this. He doesn’t understand a word of Hindi, but he got your message.” I repeat, that he has at first made the people laugh; helped them drop their defenses; he has in this way opened their hearts, and then, with his poetry, planted the seeds. Then when he is done, he covers the seeds by making them laugh some more. So his comedy routine is a means to getting the people to really hear his poetry, and it works. The people love it.
We amble over to the food area, but I have a sour stomach, and don’t partake. It is really a splendid evening, and a complete and very enjoyable program. I still don’t know if Percy’s garb is a comic sendup, or if it’s a serious wardrobe. It's clear that he has a good understanding of human nature, and how to educate people. |
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Two nights ago I had my first visit to the Barli Institute. It's on about 4 or 5 acres, mostly used as organic garden, right in the middle of a commercial/ industrial area of Indore. There's a truck repair garage next door. It has several nice classroom buildings; dorms; office space; residence for the director and her husband; a composting area, and areas for manufacture of solar cookers and for batiks and block printing. Interestingly, about a dozen peacocks also call it home; they are attracted, and live in the gardens. Quite lovely.
Janak and Jimmy are a terrific couple. I told them that due to traffic and bad directions I hadn't been able to get to the American Center in Mumbai. This is a building separate from the US consulate that handles all of the consulate's cultural affairs, and I think probably some commercial matters. Janak showed me a letter from the cultural director of the US consulate, asking that Barli host an inter-religious event in Indore. The event later had to be cancelled for unavoidable reasons. But anyway, Barli enjoys a good reputation for harmony with all the faith communities, and is, as Janak said, neutral ground. I'm very glad it has a good reputation with the US consulate. Photos later. |
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I feel a bit more settled in now. A big part of that is having a reliable Net connection. I had to change hotels to get one. The last straw at the previous hotel was when, after 3 visits by tech people to try to fix their wifi antenna, they moved me to another room because my neighbors were smoking a lot and it came into my room; but the new room could not access the wifi. I absolutely have to have this to keep in touch with clients. So anyway, that's finally settled.
Since Vickie has a Rotary Ambassador Scholarship, which is highly valued in the Rotary International, they are throwing out the red carpet for her, and to me as her roadie. The governor of all the Rotarys in this district came to my hotel and brought a catalog of all their members, with the extensive list of all of their club's initiatives, related to health, education, athletics, etc. He also offered to bring a physician, and I took him up on it. Though it feels very minor, there are some kinds of serious illnesses that start with symptoms masking as flu or colds. So now I know, I have a viral pharyngitis and he has me taking ibuprofen, paracetamol, azithromycin, and levocetirizine hydrochloride. He says this will clear up in 3 or 4 days; it might have without the meds, but he was very competent and confident, and I feel reassured. He says he is a surgeon, but also sees general patients. He now sees 150 general patients per day; he used to see 300 per day.
The Indians I have met have been unusually courteous. Even the beggars say "Please sir"; though they are very insistent! India is like a grand ecology, with all manner of people filling various sectors and needs in society. Like the driving, somehow it all works, after a fashion.
I came out of a store in Mumbai and there was an old woman seated on the sidewalk. She extended her hand. I gave her a 10 rupee note, which is about 25 cents. As I handed it to her, she folded her hands in prayer, touched the tips to her forehead, then raised them to God in thanks. I said, "Here you are, mama" and she responded in Hindi, smiling, and what she said included "mama."
Next door to the hotel is a beautiful enclosed park, with flower lined pathways, and some small carnival rides for kids. Meghdoot Gardens. Gardens are a big deal to Indians, as with Iranians. When they can, they hold events in gardens, and lawn parties. It's a nice custom.
Brent, Sat. 25 Mar 3:15 pm local time |
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I'm now in Indore, the largest commercial center serving the midland of India. I arrived about 48 hours ago. I've had terrible luck with my internet connection, so haven't posted till now.
One thing I've learned about India is, however long you think something is going to take, multiply it by 4. You have to take into consideration that your expectations of what's going to happen when, probably are unrealistic: I've had a few electronics problems: Some of the plugs in this hotel are old style, and the universal adapter won't fit them, so I couldn't recharge my computer; the wifi internet access point is right in front of my room, but was misbehaving, so I'd be in mid-sentence and my net connection would terminate; my voice mails from back home are supposed to be accessible over the Internet -- they aren't. So most of my contact systems weren't working, showing me that the Net is still pretty frail.
The other thing about things taking longer in India is the traffic; more on that later. I have nothing to complain about; I'm in a 4 star hotel; just me and a huge swarm of bees hanging from the ledge outside of my window.
Looks like the hotel staff are readying for a night party on the front lawn of the hotel. That means high-pitched Hindi music till midnight.
In a sense I feel far away from America, but it is a sense of cultural distance, not geography. Unlike Mumbai, most of the signs around here are in Hindi, so there's the sense of disorientation. But as far as geography, now that I have finally gotten to the far side of the planet from my home, I really feel that the planet is small. India does not feel that far away. You just jump on a plane, and there you are. And, the Internet, (when it's working) adds greatly to the sense of closeness.
So. I'm here, and I'm in good shape. Well, a cold, which kept me inside today; but hopefully I'll feel more like wandering around tomorrow.
Brent
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It's 2:30 in the afternoon Tuesday March 21 Mumbai time; about 2 in the morning of the same day, back home in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Getting a reliable internet connection hasn't been as easy as I'd hoped. Today I did a bit of sightseeing, roaming the shops and sidewalk vendors in lower Colaba, the southernmost tip of Mumbai. Lots of interesting sights. Sari-draped middle-aged women walking with their mothers. Families taking an outing. Hawkers everywhere. "Sir I have T-shirts in your size!" "Look sir, finest fabric!" "Taxi?" "Antique store over here, sir!" I've got a sore throat and am popping Echinaceas in hopes it doesn't develop into a full-blown cold; I found a little hole-in-the-wall store that sold various juices and cookies, and I rubbed my throat, and the man asked, "Vicks?" and I nodded. One rupee each; about 2-3 cents apiece.
My hotel is in a sort of family neighborhood/ middle class commercial zone / drug dealer / Muslim neighborhood. You walk 50 feet and you've moved into a different zone. The drug dealers mostly come out in the wee hours of the morning, I'm told. Several Muslim families in the hotel, and there's a Qur'an in the bedside table instead of a Bible. The hotel is spotless and well-appointed for budget hotel ($70/night, which is a steal in Mumbai). Most of the time you pay 2 or 3 times that for a decent hotel. I'm happy with my hotel. If you want to visit Mumbai, you have to deal with the city the way it is. Want a nice quiet place, go to . . . Las Cruces!
The traffic patterns here are absolute madness. There are eight hundred jillion yellow and black taxis, Ambassador cars made here in India. For Indians. Who are small people. When I get out of one, I have to scoot sideways, stick my feet out first. then lower my rear end toward the ground, then finally I can get my torso and head out the door. Rather like a clown getting out of a toy car. Not very dignified. Nothing here is big American size. The other common vehicle on the road here is the motorized rickshaw, rather like a souped-up golf cart; also generally yellow and black. Thrown in a mix of motorbikes, bicycles, and a fair number of nice Toyotas and similar sized new cars. Throw them all into a two-lane road (each way). The lane markers are purely decorative and have nothing to do with where anyone drives. Signals? I am not sure that most vehicles even have them, other than the Toyotas; nobody uses them. You use your horn. Let's say it's a two lane road, and there are perhaps five working lanes in it, counting the motorscooters, rickshaws, etc. We're in a taxi, and there's a smidge of room between two vehicles. Better get into it. This is accompanied by toots on the horn. Some toots are in anger; "you idiot" translates well into Hindi, and when the driver's yelling, no translation is needed. But mostly the horn honking is saying, "I'm coming up on your left side, watch out for me." If an inch or two more is needed, you toot the horn again, and the driver nudges to the left enough for you to squeeze in. The light changes, and everybody moves forward quickly. In the middle of it all, with what looks like the entire cast of It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World" weaving and surging forward, a pedestrian steps off the curb and directly into the path of the oncoming traffic. Pedestrians have learned to gauge to the millimeter how to cross through such traffic. They take a step, move their hips forward to let a taxi by, take a step and a hop, move past one motor scooter, stand still, let one more pass, take another half step, let a car pass, move three steps as it passes, and in a few seconds cross a busy street right smack in the middle of traffic. The drivers are not yelling at them; it is a common practice. Often the pedestrian, seeing a vehicle headed right for him, will stick out his hand, like a halfback straight-arming a defensive back. I've even seen this straight-arming done from the back seat of a rickshaw, as a driver careened across traffic right in front of a car. And the amazing thing is that 99% of the vehicles do not have a scratch on them. The roads are so busy, and the traffic so slow --generally around 20 mph or so -- and the drivers so deft, that everybody manages to miss everybody else. I remember when I was in Panama, the procedure for changing lanes, or for passing someone, was to honk loud and pull out into oncoming traffic. Every single taxi was a wreck; here, they look great. But it looks like a real art, learning the Indian way to drive.
Yesterday was the last day of the Asia Society Conference, at the amazing Grand Hyatt Mumbai. Full of people opening doors, gloved and uniformed employees, courteous and helpful and friendly. A gorgeous hotel, and it only costs about $400 per night! I didn't stay there, but took a taxi there (alighting oh, so gracefully from the dinky little taxis, in front of the doormen) for the conference. Everything there is expensive. Internet use is $25 for one day. (Here in this internet store it's one-tenth that price, $2.50, for 3 hours; more typical of Indian prices). Anyway, on the last day I still had a bunch of my business cards, and hadn't met nearly enough people. So when the room cleared for a break, I went around and laid one of my cards at each place setting. I wondered if one of the hotel staff would come up and say, "Sir, putting cards is only for our paid sponsors." A young man, one of the hotel staff clearing the tables did come up, and said, "Sir, may I help you?" I gratefully handed half the cards to him, and that made easy work of it. I handed him a few more cards, with a 100 rupee note mixed in ($2.50); he smiled,and distributed them,too. Probably that was a half-day's wage for him. While he did that,I went over and met the American consul. Talked to him for a few minutes, and was glad to meet him. Then I met one of the speakers, and since I hadn't caught his introduction I asked who he worked for. "Dow-Jones." "And what do you do for them?" I asked. He said, "Well, I supervise all of the editors and writers for Asia." Good Lord.
I then met a college professor at one of the business schools in Mumbai. She was very interested in Vickie's project. Her husband is a brigadier general in the Indian army, in the electronics area. There is a sewing cooperative in Bangalore operated by the widows of Indian army personnel, and she wanted to link Vickie up with it. Her parents started a charitable organization to train health care workers in geriatrics, and she is active in that, as well. Apparently, in India geriatrics is really not understood, and is at a rudimentary level. She said that an old college classmate of hers was the daughter of the Prime Minister of Malaysia, who had started a charitable organization to train home health care workers in caring for family members with Alzheimers or other serious conditions, and this Indian professor and her parents were starting the same kind of operation in India. My old college roommate Ken Brummel-Smith was the head of the American Geriatric Society, I think; so I'll put him in touch with these women. I think Ken could have a real impact. Anyway, meeting this lady was a real find, and she will enjoy meeting Vickie. Then I met a man from the Indo-US Chamber of Commerce. He took my card and said, "The next time you come to India, let me know, and we will set you up a talk, and invite all our members, and you can talk about all the various kinds of visas."
Those two were the two people I wanted to meet at the conference; and I met them in the last two hours of the three-day event.
Last night I went to a Baha'i meeting. The Baha'i Center is on the second floor of an office building on a street called "New Marine Lines" (except that in a fit of nationalism, the government has given every street with an English name, a Hindi name; and so every street actually has two or three names; some people only know one of them, so getting around can be interesting.) My young taxi driver didn't know where the street was located. He leaned out the taxi to a man on a bicycle. "Uncle!" He shouts. "Where is New Mabariney Lines?" The man on the bicycle looks bewildered. The driver tries a few others. We eventually find it, on a busy street filled with people on foot. It is across from the Blossom School, behind the Income Tax Building, down the street from one of the U.S. Consulate's offices called the American Center; I'll visit there tomorrow. Anyway, the Baha'is were marvelous, and I greeted them and told them Vickie's coming, and they were interested to learn of this. Just a couple of weeks ago they had several Rotary guest speakers, so were interested to learn of Vickie's Rotary Ambassador Scholarship. I caught a ride home with a young Indian Baha'i dentist who has just taken a post in New Guinea, and leaves in two weeks.
Right now Mumbai is in the throes of cricket madness. There's a five-day match between India and England, and the rivalry could not be more intense. Well, yes it could -- if it were Pakistan. Anyway, they want to beat the Brits at the game they learned from them. So there's no shortage of cars around.
Mumbai has its lovely areas. It is a fascinating city.
Brent |
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Vickie took the photograph that adorns the top of our weblog, during our Pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1998. This edifice is the Seat of the Universal House of Justice, the Head of the Baha'i Faith, and is set amongst beautiful and uplifting gardens on Mount Carmel in northern Israel.
Here are photographs of delegates to a recent International Baha'i Convention; they are the elected members of the National leadership of the Baha'is from some 180 countries, and they in turn come to the Holy Land from around the world to elect the membership of the House of Justice every five years. Baha'is believe that the Universal House of Justice on Mount Carmel was promised as the "Mountain of the House of the Lord" in the Books of Isaiah and Micah, and is instrumental in the establishment of world peace.
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Vickie has received a scholarship from the Rotary International, to go to India from August 2006-May 2007 and work with the Barli Institute . Barli is located in the state of Madhya Pradesh, in central India, which is about the same size as California, with a population of 60 million. Madhya Pradesh, or M.P. as the local people refer to it, is the home of many of India's tribal people. As with indigenous peoples in many parts of the world, until recent years they were forgotten by the rest of their society, but this is fortunately beginning to change. The Barli Institute has, for twenty years, devoted itself to training the girls and women from the villages in western M.P. in practical skills such as literacy, solar cooking, organic gardening, nutrition, and income generation. One aspect of their income generation is in sewing.
M.P. is famous for its beautiful saris.
A few years ago, Vickie set up a project to train rural Latina women living near the U.S.-Mexico border in sewing skills. Her philosophy was that she wanted to help the women make things that were so beautiful and well-crafted, that people would not say, "I'll buy that to help the women," but "I'll buy that because I want it!" She elevated their sewing skills to the point that they were selling in Nordstrom's Department Stores nationwide. Depending on the needs of the Barli Institute, she hopes to offer similar skills with the women studying there. In addition, Vickie works with the rest of the family, so that the husbands and brothers and fathers of these young women welcome their skills and knowledge when they return to the villages, rather than being jealous of their earning capacity and technical skill.
So, I am making a trip in March to scope out the situation in M.P., look at suitable housing for Vickie. and see if I can find a way to make a living there, so that I can make trips to India while Vickie's there. My immigration law practice lends itself nicely to finding clientele among businesspeople and scholars who want to work and perform research in America. |
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It should be pretty interesting. On one of the Mumbai hotel websites, they provide this information about travel during certain hours: "Avoid rush hours (0700 - 1100 and 1600-2100)."
Yes, let's read that again. Rush hour in Bombay is between 7 a.m. and 11 a.m., and again from 4 in the afternoon until 9 p.m.
Though the city's name has been formally changed to Mumbai, everyone including Indians often still refers to it as Bombay.
Here's a photo from Mumbai that may or may not be typical rush hour:
This same web page continues:
"Mumbai's red double-decker buses are best for short distances in the city. The problem with bus travel is figuring out where the buses go, since the route maps sold at newstands are indecipherable. It is best to make as many friends as possible at the bus queue. Somebody will always help."
Brent
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The Asia Society is a marvelous organization. They are holding a major conference in Mumbai March 18-20, which will be opened with a speech by India's Prime Minister Singh. The following day, Henry Kissinger will speak, and on the last day of the conference U.S. Ambassador Mulford will speak. The themes, though generally business-oriented, also address matters of education, health, and entertainment. I'll (Brent) be attending, both to get a better sense of India at present, and in hopes of making professional contacts. During the time Vickie will be in India on a scholarship, I would like to either be hired, or have a professional clientele. That's one of the benefits of practicing immigration law -- I'm not bound to a local practice; there are clients everywhere in the world. I've created a new business card, using www.vistaprint.com :
I've spent a good deal of time doing internet research on hotels. The conference hotel room rate is more than $250 / night, so I've looked for a "clean, cheap" place nearby. Mumbai does not abound in those. I have settled on an 80-year old hotel on nearby Juhu Beach. Not fancy, but then, I'd rather be near the coast, than in the middle of that huge (16 million people) city. Here's a photo of the beach at sundown:
It's a favorite place for families to hang out.
After 3 days at the conference, out near the airport 15 miles north of town, I will come into downtown Mumbai for a couple of days. One of the sights I'll look forward to seeing is the famous Gate of India:
As you can see, it's a very popular spot with the locals.
I'll move over to the Ascot Hotel. It's very hard to find a decent place in Mumbai for under $100, but I think I'll be OK at both of these places. I'll spend the two days after the conference, one of which is the Baha'i New Year's day, March 21, with the Baha'is of Bombay, before going on to Indore.
Brent
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