dealing with discomfort

i was recently in a situation where i was extremely uncomfortable. to make a long story short, i was talking with a man (or trying to, as he was speaking gujarati and i was speaking english,) and he touched me inappropriately. very inappropriately. after i shouted NO, i slammed the door in his face.

i felt angry and frustrated and embarrassed and hurt. i shared the story with pratima, my friend and coworker. she asked a couple of questions in her broken english to make sure she understood what happened. and then "chelo." let's go. pratima, sunita (another coworker,) and i walked down the street to find the man or to find my neighborhood's president to whom we would report the incident.

we didn't have far to go before we spotted the man. he sweeps my streets and we have always exchanged friendly hellos and kem-chos (how are you in gujarati.) this time wasn't so friendly. before i knew it, pratima was on him, all her 80 pounds, kicking him, hitting him, ripping his shirt. a friend of hers, a young guy who helps the office with their wiring, was nearby and, upon hearing what had happened, jumped in, delivering a couple of serious slaps to the guy's face.

i didn't know quite what to make of this. i have watched people stone someone before - the man was a driver who had caused a crash and killed people. an unbelievably horrible thing to watch, much more so than what happened this morning. and yet this morning was also painfully complex for me. i know that this is inappropriate behavior. these small things enrage me just as much as blatant disregard for treating women with respect. i should be made to feel uncomfortable because i'm a woman? no part of that is okay. and there is still another part of me that feels badly. i feel bad that this guy, someone who obviously doesn't have much, now has one less shirt to wear. i feel bad that he was publicly humiliated (even as i know what he did was wrong, that he wasn't actually hurt, and there weren't that many people around.)

but perhaps what really gets to me is something far more simple. i now question someone whom i once thought was kind and genuine. and that, quite simply, makes me very very sad.

all the help i can get

it has been rather rough going here recently. and by recently i suppose i mean the last seven months. which, not coincidentally, is the amount of time i’ve been in india. but really recently - the last two weeks or so, have been particularly tough.

my parents, who were here visiting for three weeks (see 'mom and dad...' pictures on the left,) returned home in the beginning of february. having their company: their insights, their humor, their all-around good nature and openness – was such a balm on my wounds of frustration and anger.

frustrations at why things take eight times longer here than in the united states. and then when things finally do get done, they often don’t work. frustrations at the lack of communication that occurs on a daily basis, that pulls me in and makes me fume. anger at how some people treat others here, whether the others are fellow humans or overlooked animals. i get angry and feel physically ill simultaneously. not a good feeling. anger at the immense disparity between those who have wayyy too much and those who barely have anything. anger at what seems to me to be either ignorance or indifference toward that disparity. apathy is immensely unattractive.

having my parents here was an ointment of sorts to all of that. partly reassuring, partly distracting, i felt i could breathe a bit more easily with them close at hand. but, as luck would have it, they have their own jobs, their own frustrations, their own lives that need their attention.

and, as i probably could have predicted, soon after they left i began to feel a bit anxious again. a bit unsettled, a bit panicky. my mind is too often my biggest rival, chattering away when what i could really use is a moment or two of peace and quiet. with grad school looming a little too closely ahead of me, with choices that are a bit too grown-up for my liking taking shape, i’m trying to both look at (and address) some of my issues more closely and be a smidge nicer to myself. which seems almost contradictory. but i’m trying.

a good part of that comes from turning to those who optimistically inspire, wisely instruct, or genuinely soothe me. or, if i’m really lucky, a combination of all three. one of these rare finds is the impressively insightful anne lamott. who is the best kind of crazy christian nut i could possibly imagine.

in one of her stories, at a moment of crisis and despair, frustration at others and self-hatred, she writes: “i have to believe that jesus prefers honesty to anything else. i was saying, ‘here’s who i am,’ and that is where most improvement begins.”

so, with the exception of the jesus detail, that’s what i’m going with for the moment. it’s not much. and it sure doesn’t answer all my questions or make my choices seem easier or any more fun. or convince my mind to take it easy. but it does help to smooth out the rough spots just a teeny bit. and i have to start somewhere.

Late Fragment, Raymond Carver

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

musings on my office life, part I

in a land where coffee (for better or worse,) relinquishes its title to chai, the variations of this sweet, creamy, spice-infused tea are endless and, more often than not, delightful. subtleties that exist between different chai wallas in my town become more pronounced from state to state. spicier chai predominates in the south, where bold kicks of cardamom match jolts of cinnamon which in turn draw out the layered flavors of nutmeg. as one travels further north, the sweeter the chai. heaping spoonfuls of sugar tame the spices. still full of flavor, this version is more soothing (at least to those with my level of sweet tooth.) i’m ready to drink this remarkably versatile variety throughout the day - before breakfast, during midday breaks, even as dessert. or to be completely honest, with dessert. regardless of one’s geographical location, regardless of the sugar to spice ratio, good chai is one thing that seems to be a constant throughout india.

except in my office. the poor quality of chai in my office is impressive in its own right. it doesn’t always taste the same – the amount of sugar and spices vary. it is just unfailingly bad. the chai ranges from tasting like bland, sweet breakfast tea on the best of days to lukewarm, watered-down skim milk on the verge of going rancid. there is no designated chai maker at my office. and truthfully, even if there were one, i’m not sure whom i would pick.

veersing, our driver/handyman, makes the chai, if he shows up to work (he was absent 13 days last month,) and if he feels like it. when he does, about half the time it turns out as bland, sweet, breakfast tea. the rest of the time it hovers around the middle of the scale. when minaxi (who doesn’t believe that sugar belongs in chai,) goes to task, it almost always errs toward a lackluster, watered-down, skim milk taste. when she makes chai, i immediately think to myself that i would rather just have boiling water, which might at least be somewhat beneficial for my health. but of course i can’t say that, and so instead i reach for the sugar to add a couple of healthy teaspoons, much to minaxi’s bemusement. and then there’s pratima, a close friend of mine at the office. pratima likes to add tulsi, a local herb which i’ve recently discovered is a very strong type of basil, that she insists is good for stress and a blood purifier. she is quite resourceful, a quality i generally admire. but not, I’ve realized, when it comes to chai. pratima looks around, finding and adding whatever spice she can get her hands on. so, when a visitor brought some home-grown ginger to the office recently, pratima was delighted. grating the ginger zealously, she added what looked to be half a cupful. this, along with the tulsi, was a powerful enough combination to turn the milk rancid, if not in actuality, then at least in taste.

i’m not comfortable enough here yet to point out the deficiencies of the office chai. i’m not sure i’ll ever be. instead, i accept the chai that is brought to me daily at 11 and again at 4 with a meek smile and a reach for the sugar (or splenda, if i feel like treating myself.) and i make it a point to sample the wonderfully delectable varieties from the numerous chai stands on the street corners whenever i’m out and about.

my sister came to visit

my sister laura came to visit a couple of weeks ago. she stayed for two weeks, and while it was very stressful for me, it was also wonderful.

i've been thinking about how to write about her visit, how to do justice to this relation of mine who is overwhelmingly complicated, confusing, and frustrating. and, at the same time, comfortably familiar, hysterically funny, and has proven to be an excellent companion when things get rough.

i'm still not sure how. but i was gently reminded by my sister that something should be posted.

a (complete) email i received from her this morning:

_________________________________________________________

Oppenheim, Laura to me

show details 12:18 PM (4 hours ago)

Reply

or, at least, update your blog with a mention of me in it (ie. . my sister came to visit. .. )

_________________________________________________________

so, in lieu of a thorough note, or perhaps just while i collect my thoughts some more, please see the pictures i have posted (to the left, under 'lovely laura's look around') from her visit.

the more i see of men, the more i prefer dogs...

there are four dogs who consider the office their personal quarters, at least during the daytime. boloh and cheetah, a brother-sister pair, are both five years old and sweetly adult: calm, food oriented, loving and loyal. chicu and tanka (see right) are another brother-sister pair, and a recent addition to the brood. five months old, they vacillate between being total terrors and delightfully delicious.

despite the frequent piles of poop the puppies leave around the office, the proclivity of one of them to chew on my computer’s power cord, the tendency of the other to chew on my favorite pair of flip flops, and the penchant of all four to engage in impressive wrestling matches throughout the day, i am more than thrilled with this doggy set-up. in india, the ratio of seeing someone kick a dog to seeing someone walking one on a leash is about 500:1, if that. i find it fortuitous that i am in india again, working on women’s rights issues, at an ngo whose staff not only has a fondness for animals, but actually welcomes a few lucky street dogs into the office. my heart warms simply by being here. i feel tremendously lucky.

the other night, just before i left to walk home, i sat down on a chair in the main room of the office. cheetah, a tan and white mutt, whose odd looks are overpowered by her sweet disposition, was curled up in the chair next to mine. as soon as i plopped exhaustedly down onto the woven chair, she nudged herself over, resituating to expose her furry belly to me, knowing full well that i would happily comply. cooing softly, i rubbed in circles, then up and down, then left to right.

well aware that these dogs get into plenty of mischief and roll around in plenty of shit during their daily jaunts outside the office, i examined the downy hair on her belly as i massaged. spotting the expected enemy, i sighed and pointed it out to my friend and coworker pratima. another tick, i exclaimed, getting up to get some old newspaper to serve as a glove. it was swollen, and attached, and i predicted some bloodshed as i severed its head from its ugly, gross, bulbous body.

gripping the tick firmly between my newspaper-covered fingers, i pulled, gently but firmly. unsuccessful, i repositioned the newspapers, and my angle of approach, and tried again. still no luck. i audibly sighed again as pratima babbled to me incoherently in gujarati. exasperated, i thought to myself that people here really just do NOT know how to take care of dogs.

pratima interrupted my thoughts with a sharp “look!” and a hand pointing to the tick. i did. i looked at the tick and prodded a bit. i looked closer, and realized my error. the tick was not a tick. it was cheetah’s nipple. a little off-center and a little bit larger than the rest, and a little odd looking perhaps, but without a doubt, a nipple. i started laughing at first, joining my coworkers who had already realized my blunder, then quickly felt awful. i worried i had lost cheetah’s trust and affection forever, her warm welcome in the morning, her generous licks throughout the day, and perhaps most importantly, her invitations to rub her belly.

but i needn’t have worried. no sooner had i apologetically dug my face into her belly than she energetically licked my forehead, sniffling and snuffling my hair as she did so. i spent a couple more minutes with her, praising all of her wonderful attributes and letting her know what a goddess i think she is, smelling her wonderfully aromatic paws and kissing the top of her nose. and then i set out for home, comfortable and confident that i was in her good graces once again.

public transport

so far during my time here in india, i have ridden the public, intercity bus five times. i love riding this bus. i have thought about why i love this mode of transportation so much, this clumsy hulk of steel that commands control of the road with its staggering size and thunderous horn. the heat that hits you in full force while waiting for every last passenger to climb onboard is unbearable. and while it's not erased, it's almost forgotten as the bus laggardly pulls away from the station. the slow breeze from the open windows works its magic, soothing your overheated face, quieting your overcrowded mind.

long distant landscape relatives greet one another, sometimes abruptly, sometimes with grace. city congestion mingles with neighboring slums before giving way to outskirts, clumps of buildings and people and homes. and finally, open land. it is here where i breathe deeply. lush, verdant land stretches on for miles. speckled with farmers and animals, sprinkled with brightly colored flowers, this is what i prefer to consume. i take in the air, the fields blurring by, the children tending to water buffalo, the camels relaxing in the shade. i take it all in as i pass and i feel content doing so.

i make a list in my head, as i tend to do with things i love, of animals i see on these bus rides.

my most recent list from my trip back from ahmedabad:

• cows - with impressively massive and uniquely shaped horns
• water buffalo - adults and babies, two of whom were bathing in a murky marsh
• herons - serenely wading in shallow water
  
• donkeys - waiting for their backs to be burdened with goods
• camels - at least 10, some resting under trees, others hard at work
• elephant - (1) lugging a tremendous amount of material
• monkeys - neither langours nor macaques, these guys were somersaulting on pipes and jumping from roof to roof
  

see my ahmedabad animals link on the left for pictures from the trip...