5/4/09
The auto rickshaw ride from Baroda to Muni Seva Ashram gave me a sharp reminder that I was in India. By sharp, I mean the sharp rap on my head from an exposed bar above my head every time the auto jumped a few inches off the ground. By the time I arrived, I had dust in my eyes and hair, sweat running down my back, and a few bruises on my head and bottom from the pot holes and rocks that we ran over. As the rickshaw driver was pulling away, I shamefully smiled to myself as I realized I probably paid too much. Whatever…welcome to India!
I won’t go into detail about the Ashram here, but in short, Muni Seva Ashram is a bright light for education, healthcare, and social services in the middle of rural Gujarat. Each day, over a thousand people benefit from the Ashram’s services and activities. It is entirely nonprofit, yet provides cutting edge services in its hospitals and utilizes modern green technology for energy.
I spent the first two days at the Ashram getting settled in. I unpacked in the little room assigned to me. It has a desk, a cot, an almari, a couple chairs, a tv with fuzzy channels, a fridge, and an attached bathroom. A word about trying to stay cool… Fortunately, water is not an issue. The whole Ashram has filtered water, and there is a water cooler in the canteen nearby. I am guzzling down about a liter or more of water a day. Needless to say, the single ceiling fan in the room is kept on constantly (although I later realized that even though the fan was on, it was only blowing down the hot air that rose to the ceiling…). I learned to keep the curtains drawn during the day, and turn off the fan and open the curtains early mornings and late evenings. Sleeping is another story of its own. The last couple of days especially were difficult. As one can imagine, trying to sleep when it’s as hot outside your body as it is inside your body is not an easy task. Put jet lag on top of that, along with the realization that I’m stuck here for the next four months in a place where I could count on one hand the number of people I could have a conversation with (Yes, I’ll admit, I did feel homesick!), and it becomes kafi mushkil. Fortunately, I started reading my books, I found the internet on the second day, and my philosophic self took hold so I was able to find a routine for myself.
Today was my first official day. I am currently with Dr. Pandey, a pediatrician at the hospital. One of the first things he said to me was the title of this entry. What he said is certainly true. Somehow, a task that would take a half hour at home takes two or three times longer in India, especially in a work setting. Even he admits that he is the same way. Once you enter the system, you get absorbed into it. I think this is an immutable and defining aspect of India. You just can’t force the western quest for efficiency on a society that knows its bustle, but also its rest.
I am working a few projects for Dr. Pandey. Along with my own sustainability research, we are working on developing a guide for cancer patients and their families on how to deal with the illness post treatment. As a result, the majority of my work is spent on a computer, which I don’t really mind. The part of the day that is most interesting to me is in the evenings. Dr. Pandey, I, a nurse, and a helper all loaded up into a classic Indian van converted into an ambulance and set off to a nearby village. Each day, Dr. Pandey would visit two villages to provide care for local residents. Without this volunteer effort on behalf of Dr. Pandey, these villagers would most likely not seek treatment unless it was life threatening. Today, we visited two villages and I found myself in awe, recognition, and shame. Awe- because of the ability of these villagers to find all the happiness they could want in surroundings that seem almost barbarian to someone like myself. Recognition- because I realized these villagers could have come from some town in Tamil Nadu. I would venture to say that there are several similarities between these villagers and inner city residents in the US. Shame- because my poor understanding thus far of what life in a rural village was like in the eyes of a resident of that village. By the time we finished, the sun had set and the village was dark except for a few gleams of light from candle flames, since the electricity had gone out. On the ride back to the Ashram, I was trying to reconcile the thoughts and emotions that were running through me, but I couldn’t arrive at a conclusion. Pulling into the Ashram was such a stark difference from what we had just seen. I walked past a state of the art hospital with radiation oncology technology and internet while I had just been standing on the patios of homes built with a mixture of mud and cow dung. I think a good description of this shocking contrast comes from a line in the opening pages of Shantaram, it’s as if the future of this place had crashed into the present, with both existing side by side.
Lord, I’m in for an interesting ride!
No comments:
Post a Comment