The Laughter of Deaf Children

So, this place I work, we have community partners which are local organisations working to improve the community. One of them is a school for deaf children. Half the kids are local, or from the Pune area and the other half come from all over the state and live in the school.
Why am I telling you this, well today the volunteers did the first day of a community project with the kids. I went along to have a look see and ended up playing the games with them. Most of the kids can hear a little, and they can all lipread, in Marathi.
The girls did some games and action songs (without the singing) with them. The game they enjoyed most was a balloon race game. The kids get in lines and have to pass the balloon backwards along the line in various ways. We were demonstrating how to play. I was wearing my ankle length, full bodied uniform skirt at the time. The kids roared with laughter playing the game and looking at me demonstrating passing a balloon under my legs, and passing the balloon using only my feet, while trying to keep my dignity intact. (no mean feat, I can tell you.)
Their laughter is so innocent, totally unforced and free. I had real fun today, sometimes doing this job I forget the whole movement is about children, and giving them the space and opportunity to laugh out loud and have real fun.
I want to go back tomorrow and laugh some more, but alas, I have meetings all morning.

PS The crow was back this morning, with a friend, swooping at the dog.

The Crow and the Puppy

So, I arrived to breakfast this morning, hadn't even opened my napkin when Donna said conversationally,
"Katey, don't go outside today".
Ok...
"Why?", I asked, expecting a comment about sunburn.
"The Crow" she said.
Ok...
"What crow?" I asked, knowing that this would be strange.
"There is a crow in the almond tree, attacking anyone who goes into the courtyard".
Ok...
"Yeah, he sort of landed on Atuls head and pecked him on the head this morning, and then he got me when I came out and did the same thing"
Right.
Later in the day, I came down the stairs to find Aruna, running through reception, holding her head, her hair in disarray. Clearly the angry bird was still at large.
One of the men set off across the courtyard, and we could see the bird going for him too!
We shouted to look out and he dodged the now furious crow. Then the dogs arrived to chase him back into his tree.
He was there all day, attacking very surprised people.
I really hope he is less angry tomorrow.

Oh the puppy! Its another story, about a poor wet cold hungry puppy. Awwww.

Snakes, Palki and laks and laks of Hindus.

Wednesday this week was a bit surreal. I woke in a strange, disconnected mood. I cant put my finger on what caused the very mild, slightly grumpy mood. Just after breakfast, there was a bit of a scene by the pool, everyone was gathered, local and international staff. I went over to discover what the commotion was about and spotted the man I later learned was the snake catcher, holding the biggest snake I have ever seen by the tail. This is the first time I have seen a snake, outside of captivity. It was monstrous to my eyes, the snake catcher held it by the tail and its horrible tongue was slithering in and out towards the mans feet. I took a picture for you, just before he put it in his snake bag. It looked as if it was going to make a break for it and I instinctively hid behind the nearest person and asked what kind it was. They told me it was a harmless rat eater.
Harmless monster, oh yeah. What a way to start the day.
After the excitement/skin crawling revulsion of the snake, we settled in to a meeting about the big messy server. (that is another days work) As is mentioned in the title, it was Palki day. Palki is where Hindus walk with the feet of a saint from Alandi, a holy village, to another holy village 300 kilometers away. Palki passes by our gate as we live on Alandi Road. A lak is one hundred thousand. They guess that 40 laks of people passed the gate that day on foot. From early morning we heard their bells and saw the white clad men carrying orange flags and colourful barefoot women walking their devotion. About Lunchtime the Palki arrived, a highly decorated cart pulled by two pristine white, decorated cows. There was a ring of young men holding hands in a ring around the cows, for their protection from the churning crowd of devotees trying to touch the cart and throwing offerings of flowers. I stood in the blazing heat of the sun and crowd, mesmerised by the sheer numbers. As Palki passed the different communities along the road, thousands of more people joined the crowd, to take part a little. The temple next to us was hosting the main people for lunch and rest, so thousands of people set up their kitchens all around, to have lunch and rest in the shade. All over the surrounding streets, people sat on the roads eating food served from enormous vats, or slept in the shade right on the roads and footpaths. On the main street, a political party had a stage, where a speaker urged us, his brothers and sisters to be careful of our possessions. There were sellers with handcarts selling everything from snacks, to flowers to inflatable beach balls. Every few minutes men tried to mark us on our foreheads with the Alandi blessing, a white U shape with a red and orange dot inside. The other temples were giving away sweets. It had the atmosphere of a festival or friendly football match on a sunny day at home. Everyone seemed good humored and happy, there was no sanctimonious piety, no suffering expressions. These were happy pilgrims. Happiness is allowed in religions.
Someone should tell the christians.

Heat & the surrender called Air Conditioning

I am constantly surprised by the heat here. When I go to bed, it’s like there is an electric blanket on and my pillow is a hot water bottle. When I take a shower, sometimes even the water from the cold tap is too hot. when I shampoo my hair, the shampoo is as if it has been in an oven, warm and sticky. The whole country has underfloor heating, and when I forget my sandals to go outside, it is like walking on a hot plate. I will have asbestos feet by the end of my two years here. In our living quarters, currents of hot air circulate so when you are running to the bathroom in your towel, it feels like you are passing through clouds of hot water.
When I am out and about in the city, I can feel dribbles of sweat running down my legs inside my skirts. The shade is better but in the city the breeze is warm and dirty with exhaust fumes. The power is gone as I type this, I am sitting by an open window with the door propped open to try and encourage the breeze.
Since I arrived I mistrusted the efficiency of my AC unit. It seemed to make little difference to the room, but believing as I did that I just needed to become accustomed to it, I did not act on my vague suspicion any more than inviting the others to come and confirm how the corridor outside my room was in fact cooled than my room in which the ac had been on for several hours.
I awoke one day to discover that the beastly machine had been spitting globs of whitish liquid into the room during the early hours. My suspicions became more than vague and I asked the Deputy World Centre Manager, Darshana, what should I do. She called the AC guys and they arrived the same day to investigate and fix the problem. Oh the joy I felt when the AC guy popped his head around the staff lounge door and said, “madam, come test the flow”, and I went, expecting the worst, and felt the strong belt of icy wind that came form the now beloved machine.
Oh the joy, and relief. I laughed out loud with the joy! My life has changed, now I escape to my room, push the button and cool the bed, pillow, floor, air and everything else! I do feel like I am somehow cheating, I don’t know who or what I am cheating, just a little guilty, like I am giving in each time I push the button. What a lovely surrender it is.
Its the simple pleasures.

Indian Retail Therapy

So, I am here nearly a whole week and I am so hot and uncomfortable. Walking around naked isn’t an option here, and my Irish clothes are just not made for purpose. My dad once said to me, if you are in a new place, look to what the locals do. So I went Sari and Punjabi Suit shopping. A Sari is the very long piece of cloth that gets wrapped around you, and the Punjabi suit is loose trousers, a dress over and a shawl. We went to Laxmi Road, the Henry Street of Pune, if you will. But imagine Henry Street with hundreds of bicycles, scooters and rickshaws speeding up the middle and the shops spilling onto the streets, not to mention the shoppers, beggars and temple goers. It is worse than Dublin on the last Saturday before Christmas, and we were there on a quiet Sunday night! I really think a Punjabi Suit will improve my quality of life so we start there, we enter a shop. What I didn’t entirely realise is that you don’t buy a suit, you buy fabric for a suit, and then have your favorite taylor make it for you. But even before you call in the taylor you must have the Dohbi man come and wash and colour fix the fabric. Now there is little bit of ‘instant gratification girl’ inside me that wants to wear it home and is devastated. The bigger ‘I need to control the universe, girl’ inside me is now thinking that I can have the suit made how I like it. I control everything. (MUH huh huh huh huh huh huh huh huh huh) Ok, back to shopping. What colour/fabric/pattern would I like my suit. All I know is I want a light as air fabric, so we select cotton. Little shop guy starts pulling parcels of fabric out, each one with the dress material, the pants material and the scarf thingy inside. I start rejecting parcels, telling him, pattern too big, colour too red, pattern to lurid (that got some looks) I told him I wanted a nice subtle pattern, so he pulled out a few more, this orange one catches my eye and I ask to see the trouser and shawl part, its lovely and mine, for the princely sum of five hundred rupees! We break at this point for Ice cream, mmmmm. Sari shopping begins with the sari itself, that is the fabric that gets wrapped around you. There are literally thousands of fabrics to choose from on Laxmi road. Each shop has a different selection, it is very rare to see two of the same sari. We enter a shop and start with the basics, do I want a daytime sari or an evening sari? Daytime please, this means fewer frills, embroidery, sequins etc... Ok, what colour/pattern? Colour, I don’t know. Pattern, I’m thinking something floral, mmmmm. Little Sari man starts pulling out fabrics and I see a lovely green pattern against a cream, reminds me of Nanno, (my paternal grandmother, died a few years ago) so I buy it for a lovely 150 rupees! Steal! On to get a blouse, or blouse material as I discover and a petticoat. I give a man in the shop my new sari material and he selected from a wall of colour, the perfect green to go with my fabric. Just a cream petticoat and we are good! Happily, we go for some dinner a the only restaurant in the area, there is lots of street food around but I’m not ready for that just yet, best play it safe. HA! Three days of vomiting, sweating and diarrhea later, I feel strong enough to type. But I do have my two new outfits which will look much better on me now I have lost any access fat!

Coffee, Cake and HIV tests

So, here I am, newly arrived in India, shiny new passport and two year visa in hand, filling in the forms so I can register my presence with the appropriate authorities.
I begin to fill in my form, and go through my check list.
I would like to mention at this point the Indian fascination and reliance on red tape and small stamps.Not that this makes getting anything done easier in India, on the contrary, you could stand in line for several hours only to be told you need the form RROTNMJICK-0038478/a and not the RROTNMJICK-0038478/b as you believed/had read online/was told on the phone/was told at your last visit. Only the Belgians could trump the Indians when it comes to forms, paperwork and the appropriate number of passport photos necessary to do anything. (the appropriate number of passport photos is invariably one less than the number you have about your person)
What I do find intriguing and endearing about India is the requirement while shopping to purchase your goods at one desk, then bring your receipt to another desk to get it stamped before you can leave the shop, I love it!
Anyway, as I was reading through the list of requirements to register, I notice that I need a HIV report! Ok, thats weird, I think, so I asked around and discovered that because my visa was for two years and not one, like the rest of the staff, it was indeed a requirement.
Being Irish I assumed this would take months, as it would in Ireland like for any other essential medical test, and mentally started to pack my bags. Then my boss said, “just go to Ruby Hall this afternoon and get it done”, Ruby Hall is a big nearby hospital. Well I nearly fell off my chair, just go without an appointment or life threatening condition and ‘get it done’!
Wow, so I did. I just strolled in with my other boss and her husband and had it done in less than five minutes, for €5.20. (We paid because we can afford it, if you are poor you go to a free/really cheap clinic)
They said sorry, but because it was so late in the day (about 5) we would have to wait a whole day and come back tomorrow for the result, after 12 please.
So we went to a nearby cake shop and had lovely yummy cake and iced coffee.
Another thing I love about India is the spaces here, on my last visit I took this picture, where we sat to eat our cake, the ceiling was no more that 5 foot off the floor. A mezzanine in the true sense!
People warned me about moving here from Switzerland, how life would be so difficult in a ‘third world’ country compared with Ireland. The more I see here the more I believe that we Westerners have a hell of a lot to learn from countries like India then we care to admit.

The Royal Visit

Previously in Katey's World

The 22nd of July 2008 dawned bright and clear, it was a good omen as Richard and Penny (My brother and Sister in law) were arriving of the 3.43 train from Frankfurt. I met them joyously at the train station and delivered them to Des Alps (The local hotel) to rest until I finished work at six o clock. I arrived to Des Alps Later in the evening soaked to the skin as the heavens opened as I left work. Bad omen. So dripping on the Des Alps carpet, I met the refreshed and relaxed and mercifully dry Richard and Penny.

They were very impressed with the Kandersteg Scenery, as you were on your arrival here in our little piece of Alpine heaven. They were hungry so I helped them choose their dinner. They were unimpressed with the simple Swiss food, accustomed as they are to fine cuisine.

We continued the evening with a stroll to view my apartment, the weather had cleared up nicely, some drinks and laughter again in Des Alps. I provided them with instructions on how to find me the next day as I had to work and I bade them goodnight.

The next morning showed promise of spectacular weather. Richard and Penny came to see me in the centre and as they mentioned they had brought their walking shoes and wanted a bit of a hike, I suggested they take a cable car up to Sunbuel and walk down. It’s a nice two to three hour walk along an often steep path with big drops on one side. They mentioned Penny’s fear of heights in relation to the Cable car ride, but it never occurred to me that she might be frightened on a narrow path with hundreds of meters drop offs on one side. That was a mistake. I furnished them with a map, ensured they had adequate water supplies and rain gear and sent them happily on their way. This was about ten am. I began to worry at two when there was no sign of them returning. I understood they were to eat some lunch at the restaurant at the top of the cable car station, so I waited until three before I began to really worry. At three thirty I sent Richard a text, and he replied they were almost back. I relaxed then, they were safe and sound- or so I thought! At four o’clock they arrived in a similar condition as I imagine a person would emerge from the dark forest after a fortnight of being chased by hungry bears. Penny was shaking and pale with fear and exhaustion, Richard was shaking and red with anger and exertion. They were safe but not sound. They had had an ordeal. I seriously underestimated Richards calming abilities and Penny’s paralysing fear.

(I mention in passing this is a walk I would do of a Sunday afternoon to relax, and it is also one of our easier hike routes that we send groups of children on… ) I sent them off home to the hotel to rest and recuperate and I booked a fancy restaurant for dinner that night. Mercifully again the weather held and they were dry. I met them after work and we strolled to the restaurant, the one I brought the dogs past each morning and evening. We had a wonderful meal with fine local wine that lifted the spirits of the intrepid explorers and restored their faith in my judgement. As it was the night of the first Scout Disco of the season, I suggested we take a visit as it is a spectacle the likes of which they would never see again! So away we went for a boogie and some cheap, cheap wine.

In the beginning they were sceptical and felt out of place, then I pointed out the aging and embarrassing adult leaders dancing with gay abandon and they felt better. Until that is, I started introducing them to the various staff members that passed by. Twice so far on their visit, Richard had been mistaken for my Father. We laughed off the first mistake, Penny and I laughed off the second, I tried to laugh off the third and to explain that I had told everyone my family was visiting, which in most languages means ‘parents’ but they didn’t buy it, so after the fifth case of mistaken identity when Richard started protesting hotly that there is only 11 years between us. I decided to remove them from danger and retreat to the relative safety of Des Alps where we drank the night away in peace and age appropriate happiness.

Day three dawned with again the promise of a good day so I decided a trip to Oeschinensee would be just perfect. So Penny the brave soul, ascended the chairlift with calm and composure, Richard by her side. We rode the Rodlebahn and walked to the Lake and looked about, I pointed out the various Glaciers, features and huts as I do with most visitors. Richard had brought his binoculars, and I had quite a time convincing him that walking to the places I pointed out was not only in fact possible but frequently done by families and Scout Groups of varied abilities. There was a group on their way up to the Frundinhutte at the time and we spent two hours tracking their progress up the precarious path. We ate in the overpriced restaurant, watched the walkers and had a lovely day in the sun. I did my Eco Tour Guide thing and explained all about the Hydro power and drinking water being supplied for the village from this lake. Richard was fascinated and he wanted to know more, so I showed him the waterwheel beside my flat. He was like a child at the circus, running up and down looking at the moving parts, when I pushed the button to make it work, well he nearly wet himself with joy. He is an engineer through and through. This small miracle was nothing compared to the Swiss concrete maker he saw in the yard on the way out! (I think this was the highlight of his trip!)