Something like an ending

I always suck at wrapping things up. In the end, I guess I couldn't find the words to finish up my experience in Delhi and in India. My last couple of weeks were in all ways incredible. My best friend has family in India. She and her Father, Mother, and Sister came to visit their family there and so I traveled to Bangalore and Mumbai with them. I'm writing from the States now. Yesterday I was driving down a quiet street with only a couple cars on a four lane road. I felt emptiness around me and suddenly missed the chaotic bus ride from my home in Delhi to the metro station. I came home and attempted to cook Indian food. It was okay. But I really miss the hole-in-the-wall food places my friends and I would go to in Delhi.

I know this was only the first of many trips I will be taking to India. I feel a part of me is still in India. And that India is now a part of who I am forever.

***

As for blogging, I enjoyed it so much. I am so grateful to everyone who read my posts. There may be more blogging in my future, but for now I am going to take time for my other writing projects. So this is adieu.

Love,
Anna

Dorris Again!

Dorris is back! Well, actually four Dorrises. And one Dorris is pregnant so there are about to be bahut  (a lot--in hindi) Dorrises!

BNE

BEST NIGHT EVER.

Amazing friends.

Good Music.

and Dude from Mexico City.

Pretty much BNE.



but also the saddest. I love all you guys, I am so sad that our time together is over. Best wishes to everyone and I will see you all soon!

Visiting an Orphanage

Yesterday, I went with my friend to visit the NGO she volunteers at. Naz, the NGO, is an orphanage for HIV positive children. The way Naz works is the first half of the day the children go to different schools throughout Delhi. Then, in the afternoon, volunteers help the children with the school homework and provide the children with personalized attention. Throughout my visit I went through several different emotions. Before arriving I was nervous-excited. I had never interacted with HIV+ children before. I had never been to an orphanage.

The orphanage was located in a very nice neighborhood in a nice house with several floors. Upon entering the house and walking up the stairs where girls and young boys lived, I noticed the bunk beds and cabinets, where children could keep their things. There were about 10 kids with kids coming in and out in a calm manner. One girl was playing with toy airplanes. Several girls where working on their schoolwork. A few very young children, maybe 4-6, were walking around and sitting with older children. I sat down with one sixth-grade girl, B*, and helped her with her homework. She had to read a story in English and define her vocabulary words. Then, she asked if I wanted to help her with her Hindi. I figured I would give it a shot, since I can speak pre-school level Hindi. She flipped open her literature-literature book and asked me if I could read Hindi. I told her I could—a wee bit. She handed me the book and said, “Okay you read.” I began to read at turtle-speed, it was like I was in Kindergarten all over again with my level-1 reading books. Plus, B was a strict teacher. She kept stopping to correct my Hindi. Several times she got frustrated that I wasn’t rolling my Rs properly and pronouncing the correct T sound (there are four T sounds in Hindi). I told her she was a very good Hindi teacher and that I was going to talk to my Hindi professor about hiring her as an assistant.

Somewhere, in the middle of reading an English story and reading Hindi, I suddenly got nervous that I was in this orphanage. A lot of the smaller children were coming and clinging to me. Many of the children had running noses and were coughing. I know the ways that the virus spreads, so I don’t know why I suddenly go so nervous. I also felt sad and happy for these children. It angered me that these children had been infected with HIV. I felt angry at the irresponsibility of parents if they knew they were infected and still had kids. Then again, maybe the parents were/are unaware of how HIV works. I also was happy that these children were being provided food and shelter at this NGO. Perhaps this is too awful and ironic to say, but honestly some of the children in this orphanage may be living in better conditions and eating better food than they might be having otherwise. Perhaps that’s to bold of a claim to make. I’m going to say it anyway, though.

Newsletter from the Naz organization!

*Can’t use her name.

A Conversation

I just had a conversation with a young man in a Delhi store about his Islamic religion. It started when I was asking questions about two items, which I can’t name currently because they are gifts for someone. This young man was asking where I was from and what I was doing in India, which are hot-topic questions often asked to travelers. I told him I was from the USA and that I was studying here in Delhi. From the Taqiyah he was wearing I knew he was Muslim, but he proceeded to tell me anyways. We got into a conversation of prayer and I was inquiring him on if he always prayed five times a day. He explained to me that no matter where he is, he always prays. Even if he is sick. If he were to miss a prayer, something bad could happen. He told me that his brother didn’t pray for a long time and had to spend a lot of time in the mosque studying and reading the Koran. After a few initial questions, I really just listened to what he said. In some ways it seemed he was defending his religion but it another way it seemed that he was so proud and in love with his Allah and religion that he simply wanted to tell me about. He told me that his sister covers her face, but not because she is forced, but because if she doesn’t something bad could happen to her—for her protection. This did irk me but, having been in Delhi and having had a lot more man eyes on me than usual, I now know that women here really don’t have any rights; I understood. Also, while maybe this young man’s family isn’t personally pressuring their women to cover up, I can understand that if other families do pressure their woman it could well indeed bring trouble to uncovered women.

I digress for a few moments. The other day a classmate of mine was doing a presentation on rape and sexual harassment in Delhi. She had interviewed several people, men and women, who all gave a similar response. They all believed that if a woman in Delhi is raped it was because she was asking for it, either by revealing too much skin or acting a certain way. They all said that it’s only human nature that men have such desires—so if women entice them it can only be the woman’s fault. This mindframe cannot be pinpointed to a religion, but to a cultural mindset that stems from patriarchal ignorance.

Then the young man asked me what my religion was. I knew it was coming. I mean we were having a religious conversation. I hesitated for a few seconds before telling him I was Jewish. This did not bother him. He essentially told me that my family was his family, my mother his mother, my brother his brother. It was sweet and not what I was expecting. I think this is going to be one of those conversations that stays around for a while and makes the brain churn.

Mo-Mos and Malaria!

2 power points, 1 paper and 2 more papers to go! Woot!

by the way...
Using Mosquitoes To Put The Bite On Malaria

Passover, Indian Style

Making Passover Food in Delhi