Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
bombs over...banaglore
just a quick update for those that pay attention to international news and are concerned with the indian bombing situation. last friday there was a bomb in bangalore and another two bombings in ahmedabad on saturday. additional bombs were found in ahmedabad, bangalore and surat, along with other terrorist supplies. thankfully there were no more detonations. the death toll is around 50 with another 200 injured. as for who is at fault for these bombs, the press and police seem to think that a pakistani group is responsible, but apparently when anything bad happens, fingers immediately point to pakistan. i've heard rumors that it's an indian governmental group, but no one has actually claimed responsibility at this point. to add to this excitement, sunday there was a anonymous call to a news anchor in kerala that the next bombs was set to go off in kochi at 7pm. it was a tense night, but thankfully there was no bomb.
as a result, the international students are on strict 'lock down' as i like to call it. we are always either at home or at campus. which is safest considering suspicions are high, as is policy security. we are staying safe and getting work done from the safety of our two areas. so no worries my loved ones i am very much safe, but please keep this situation on your hearts and minds.
as a result, the international students are on strict 'lock down' as i like to call it. we are always either at home or at campus. which is safest considering suspicions are high, as is policy security. we are staying safe and getting work done from the safety of our two areas. so no worries my loved ones i am very much safe, but please keep this situation on your hearts and minds.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
not quite the universal classroom
while in India, i am taking 6 or my remaining 9 credits at the college where i work. the first class is family and child welfare and the second class is social work in the field of health. let's be frank here, all classes are not equal. social work classes are easier than public health classes- and indian social work classes introduce the next level, if thats even possible. of course, i openly welcome this break after the hell that was my life getting an MPH in a year.
1st fun story: my health class. taught by the smaller, most adorable nun imaginable, however a nun whose bad side i would never want to be on. while normally smiling, light hearted and generous (she treated our entire class to chai one day)- i witnessed her mood do a complete 180 after another class turned in an assignment that was less than satisfactory. again, not a sister you'd want to anger- i mean, she's married to jesus. that's big time. the first day of class she started to talk to me about my background, i mentioned that i had completed the coursework for my MPH and from that point on, i became an unofficial co-teacher. she often stops class and looks at me for confirmation or clarity. it definitely keeps me on my toes and keeps me frantically searching my memory for various epidemiology formulas and public health history. it is an enjoyable class because it blends together both of my degrees. but the real reason why i love it so much? i have only one assignment, and it's a presentation on communicable and noncommunicable diseases in India. thanks to hala, i've already completed this assignment last year. the number one reason why i love this class so much? it is only lasting 5 weeks. 5 weeks. the class decided this and the sister agreed. 5 weeks. 1 assignment. 3 credits. i am not sure how that math works out, but regardless, this is a kind of math that i like.
another fun story about classes here. apparently cancellation is more common than yellow curry. so far we've had 4 weeks of classes. 2 classes each friday that only met once a week for (supposedly) three hours. so, that means i should have had a total of 8 classes so far. negative ghost rider. that pattern is far from full. so far, i've had only 4 classes. there is a 50% chance that i will have both classes each week. again, this is an example of statistics that i can get behind. the reason why classes are canceled range from hartels (strikes)- which seem to occur in higher frequency on fridays, a convenience i doubt that is a coincidence, to the day where the professor's (and the vice principal) daughter was competing in the miss kerala 2008 beauty pageant. true story. she got 2nd runner up and was awarded best smile. you can't make this stuff up- but you can make good use of a free friday afternoon. the students are pretty good about telling me (the only american in both classes) about the class cancellation. however, i've sat in an empty room by myself numerous times, figuring that something was very wrong with the situation. to which i shrugged and "carried on" (popular indian saying) my merry little way.
however, my best class story occurred this past friday. now, those that know me in an academic setting know something about me that those that know me in a non-academic setting may not be aware of. i have been known, a time or two, to be a bit of a procrastinator/slacker. a slight procrastinator- i stress slight (i also stress that i've been known to exaggerate a slight bit as well). seriously, little bell singlehandedly caused my first grad school attempt to fail by tempting me with barnes and nobles runs during class time. however, for the record, i am not that girl here in india. i am the opposite extreme. the mother of the 2nd miss kerala 2008 runner up, Dr. Mary Joesph- feels that i'm a great student. the rest of the class- feels that i'm a great kiss-up (and pain in their ass). the first week of class Dr. MJ gives us 2 assignments. i, in true turner form do not do these assignments by the next week when i thought the assignments were due because both of my classes were meeting at the same time. so in choosing which class to attend, i chose the class that i did not have an assignment due that i had not yet completed. the next friday, class canceled due to the pageant. so here it was- the 4th week. 2 assignments given, zero turned in. i finally completed the assignments, meekly printed then out and took them to Dr. MJ- fully believing I am the last one to turn them in. she looks over my work and greatly praises it. does not mention the late aspect. i leave and head to class, feeling quite pleased with my academic accomplishments. when i left Dr. MJ- she was smiling and good natured. when she arrived 2 minutes later to the class room- her entire demeanor changed. and it was de-mean alright.
1st fun story: my health class. taught by the smaller, most adorable nun imaginable, however a nun whose bad side i would never want to be on. while normally smiling, light hearted and generous (she treated our entire class to chai one day)- i witnessed her mood do a complete 180 after another class turned in an assignment that was less than satisfactory. again, not a sister you'd want to anger- i mean, she's married to jesus. that's big time. the first day of class she started to talk to me about my background, i mentioned that i had completed the coursework for my MPH and from that point on, i became an unofficial co-teacher. she often stops class and looks at me for confirmation or clarity. it definitely keeps me on my toes and keeps me frantically searching my memory for various epidemiology formulas and public health history. it is an enjoyable class because it blends together both of my degrees. but the real reason why i love it so much? i have only one assignment, and it's a presentation on communicable and noncommunicable diseases in India. thanks to hala, i've already completed this assignment last year. the number one reason why i love this class so much? it is only lasting 5 weeks. 5 weeks. the class decided this and the sister agreed. 5 weeks. 1 assignment. 3 credits. i am not sure how that math works out, but regardless, this is a kind of math that i like.
another fun story about classes here. apparently cancellation is more common than yellow curry. so far we've had 4 weeks of classes. 2 classes each friday that only met once a week for (supposedly) three hours. so, that means i should have had a total of 8 classes so far. negative ghost rider. that pattern is far from full. so far, i've had only 4 classes. there is a 50% chance that i will have both classes each week. again, this is an example of statistics that i can get behind. the reason why classes are canceled range from hartels (strikes)- which seem to occur in higher frequency on fridays, a convenience i doubt that is a coincidence, to the day where the professor's (and the vice principal) daughter was competing in the miss kerala 2008 beauty pageant. true story. she got 2nd runner up and was awarded best smile. you can't make this stuff up- but you can make good use of a free friday afternoon. the students are pretty good about telling me (the only american in both classes) about the class cancellation. however, i've sat in an empty room by myself numerous times, figuring that something was very wrong with the situation. to which i shrugged and "carried on" (popular indian saying) my merry little way.
however, my best class story occurred this past friday. now, those that know me in an academic setting know something about me that those that know me in a non-academic setting may not be aware of. i have been known, a time or two, to be a bit of a procrastinator/slacker. a slight procrastinator- i stress slight (i also stress that i've been known to exaggerate a slight bit as well). seriously, little bell singlehandedly caused my first grad school attempt to fail by tempting me with barnes and nobles runs during class time. however, for the record, i am not that girl here in india. i am the opposite extreme. the mother of the 2nd miss kerala 2008 runner up, Dr. Mary Joesph- feels that i'm a great student. the rest of the class- feels that i'm a great kiss-up (and pain in their ass). the first week of class Dr. MJ gives us 2 assignments. i, in true turner form do not do these assignments by the next week when i thought the assignments were due because both of my classes were meeting at the same time. so in choosing which class to attend, i chose the class that i did not have an assignment due that i had not yet completed. the next friday, class canceled due to the pageant. so here it was- the 4th week. 2 assignments given, zero turned in. i finally completed the assignments, meekly printed then out and took them to Dr. MJ- fully believing I am the last one to turn them in. she looks over my work and greatly praises it. does not mention the late aspect. i leave and head to class, feeling quite pleased with my academic accomplishments. when i left Dr. MJ- she was smiling and good natured. when she arrived 2 minutes later to the class room- her entire demeanor changed. and it was de-mean alright.
- Dr MJ: "i gave you two assignements week one correct?"
- Class- shocked by the cold unfriendly entrance- hesitating: "um...yes ma'am."
- Dr MJ: "what were they?"
- Class- shuffling through papers and quietly mumbling both assignments.
- Dr MJ: "well? where are they?"
- Sara- shrinking down in seat, realizing with horror that this is all my fault.
- Class- silent.
- Dr MJ- voice getting louder: "where is it?"
- Class- silent.
- Dr MJ- launching a full out rant: "You are master level student, what is wrong with you that you can't complete an assignment?"
- Crickets/Lizards/Mosqutioes and other classroom life- deathly silent.
- Sara- starting hard at the ground, wishing invisibility was an option, repeatedly thinking in head "please don't say my name, please don't say my name, please don't say my name."
- Dr MJ: "i am terribly disappointed in each one of you. (pointing at me) SARA turned it in. SARA completed it. Why didn't you? Is she a better student? Is she smarter? She doesn't even speak our language and she did the assignment."
- Sara- visibly flinching each time Dr MJ overly pronounces my name. Somehow I managed to sink even further into my seat, staring intently down.
- Class- all heads span around to stare at me. a spotlight illuminates over my head, a thousand pairs of dagger eyes bore holes through my skull.
- Dr MJ- continues without noticing the death stares turning my skin to stone for another 3 minutes telling the class what horrible students they were.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
your summer reading list
I just finished reading the book “A Fine Balance” by Rohinton Mistry. Incredibly fantastic book. (Thank you BET). I highly recommend it for those looking for a good summer read. Fair warning- it doesn’t exactly fill you with warm and fuzzy feelings, but it is a beautiful story about country of India, and people that live within it. I find myself thinking about the book often, analyzing various aspects, which in my terms means that its a phenomenal book. So I highly recommend it.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Overheard in India- Part One
i've decided to bring you pieces of the random conversations we often find ourselves in. trust me, they are hilarious and worth repeating. the first scenario occurred a couple of weekends ago during our day at the beach.
adolescent girl about 15 in the presence of her entire family: "oh HIIIII, Hello! where are you coming from?"
Americans: "America"
adolescent girl- screaming at ear piercing decibels: "AMERICA! OH MY GOD! MY DREAM LAND. JEEEEEEEESUS CHRIST! OH MY GOD"
Americans- stunned and deafened silence, wiping blood from their ears, long awkward pause.
Sara: "well no ones going to top that."
adolescent girl about 15 in the presence of her entire family: "oh HIIIII, Hello! where are you coming from?"
Americans: "America"
adolescent girl- screaming at ear piercing decibels: "AMERICA! OH MY GOD! MY DREAM LAND. JEEEEEEEESUS CHRIST! OH MY GOD"
Americans- stunned and deafened silence, wiping blood from their ears, long awkward pause.
Sara: "well no ones going to top that."
Thursday, July 17, 2008
my oasis
Coffee is high up on my ‘essential’ list. I’m not necessarily proud of this fact as I’ve also made it my goal to daily live free of any addictions or requirements. But for coffee, I made an exception. I blame this (wonderful and glorious) addiction on my loves of 1371, and our twice a day visits to starbucks. Of course, the fact that the Turner family might actually have coffee instead of blood coursing through their veins does not help the need for caffeine either. Bottom line, I love love love getting coffee. I love the whole experience, the smell of it, the decision of what form of coffee will delightfully dance upon your tastebuds, the taste of it, the conversation the develops around it, the entire encounter of it all. I’m even okay with the coffee breath that follows. Yep, that’s a hint of the deep abyss that is my love of coffee. Its deep…and wide.
Not going to lie, during the whole application process there was a tiny piece of me that was hesitant. Yes, I have some incredibly fantastic people in my life and a wonderful family. But the hesitation was not in relation to leaving or missing them. It defiantly was not because of fear of the unknown, or distain of traveling, or the challenge of adaptation, or even the threat and risk of challenge, growth and change.
Simply put- it was coffee. Sweet sweet nectar of life that is coffee. I knew that by moving to India, I would be giving up the designer coffee that I loved so much. Good for the bank account maybe, but bad for my soul. Very bad. Trust me, it was a tough decision. I think that there is one starbucks in the vast country of India. And it is in Bombay. Which is a long way away from Kerala. Don’t think I didn’t look into it, but even I can’t justify the cost of a latte plus the plane ticket. It’s just a little too much. So I sucked it up (all for the kids of course) and moved to the land of sugary chai sans starbucks.
I’ve been here over a month. The withdrawal has been brutal. I’ve had it all, the shakes, the sweats, the night terrors, even the hallucinations of white and green cups shimmering off in the horizon. I didn’t think I could make it. I was literally watching my world crumble around me. I had the return ticket home and directions to the nearest starbucks already planned out. It was just too hard.
Until. Salvation. In coffee form. A wonderful little island in a sea of despair and distain. A designer coffee shop. And not just that. An air conditioned oasis with extremely fancy drinks, leather chairs and even American music. And ice cream. It’s like starbucks met cold stone and made sweet sweet love, and this shop was their beautiful offspring. Heaven. Home. It’s official, I can stay in India. I can work with HIV/AIDS. I can do what I came here to do. All because of coffee. I already have plans to be in a leather chair at least once a week. I am okay that an espresso, chocolate and hazelnut explosion of delightfulness costs me more than five times the bus ride to arrive there. I embrace it. And will continue to do so for the next eight months. True love. And that is the story of why I will remain in India.
Not going to lie, during the whole application process there was a tiny piece of me that was hesitant. Yes, I have some incredibly fantastic people in my life and a wonderful family. But the hesitation was not in relation to leaving or missing them. It defiantly was not because of fear of the unknown, or distain of traveling, or the challenge of adaptation, or even the threat and risk of challenge, growth and change.
Simply put- it was coffee. Sweet sweet nectar of life that is coffee. I knew that by moving to India, I would be giving up the designer coffee that I loved so much. Good for the bank account maybe, but bad for my soul. Very bad. Trust me, it was a tough decision. I think that there is one starbucks in the vast country of India. And it is in Bombay. Which is a long way away from Kerala. Don’t think I didn’t look into it, but even I can’t justify the cost of a latte plus the plane ticket. It’s just a little too much. So I sucked it up (all for the kids of course) and moved to the land of sugary chai sans starbucks.
I’ve been here over a month. The withdrawal has been brutal. I’ve had it all, the shakes, the sweats, the night terrors, even the hallucinations of white and green cups shimmering off in the horizon. I didn’t think I could make it. I was literally watching my world crumble around me. I had the return ticket home and directions to the nearest starbucks already planned out. It was just too hard.
Until. Salvation. In coffee form. A wonderful little island in a sea of despair and distain. A designer coffee shop. And not just that. An air conditioned oasis with extremely fancy drinks, leather chairs and even American music. And ice cream. It’s like starbucks met cold stone and made sweet sweet love, and this shop was their beautiful offspring. Heaven. Home. It’s official, I can stay in India. I can work with HIV/AIDS. I can do what I came here to do. All because of coffee. I already have plans to be in a leather chair at least once a week. I am okay that an espresso, chocolate and hazelnut explosion of delightfulness costs me more than five times the bus ride to arrive there. I embrace it. And will continue to do so for the next eight months. True love. And that is the story of why I will remain in India.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
ramblings of a vagabond soul
Unable to sleep. Mind is racing. Late night thoughts- enjoy.
My brother refers to me as free spirit. My mother speaks of my unrelenting independence- and to illustrate her point, immediately tells the story about when I was a baby, not yet two, how I left our campsite, trekked the distance to the ocean, and never once looked over my shoulder for guidance or assistance. Other terms have been used to describe me as well, some vagabond, some hippy, some wonderer, some stubborn. I embrace them all fully, yet no one fully defines me. I cannot really explain the feeling I have on foreign soil. All I know is that I was just 15 when I first left my ‘nice’ American bubble and feel in fiercely in love. Not just with the country of Costa Rica, but with traveling as a whole. With the fascination that during one flight, your entire universe as you knew it will be expanded, challenged, destroyed, and you will be forced to look at an entire different world and thus develop a radically transformed worldview. The incredibly addictive aspect is the realization that experience can be routinely recreated and maintained with every journey. Over a decade later, this love is stronger than ever. I wonder sometimes if it was some adolescent phase that I’m perpetually trapped in, that I’ve never grown out while everyone else did. However, I remain completely satisfied with my decision to step outside the lines (was I ever really in them?) to stretch my boundaries, my experiences, my heart, my mind, my expectations. I know that these decisions will only strengthen me as a person, and therefore I am committed fully to being here in India. In every aspect. I know that the essence of my life consists in family, friends and loved ones, and yet despite the oceans that span between us, find comfort in the fact that they will always serve as my compass, my north star. That love and support motivates me towards the unpredictable unknown. I’ve come to receive each day for what it is, here in this time zone, in this zip code, and nowhere else. I know that the life I am currently living- however wonderful- is fleeting, that one day I will have far more structure and responsibility, and might one day even qualify as an adult (doubtful), yet this realization propels me to become increasingly committed to fully utilizing the time at hand. For the time being, I remain intrinsically bound to this lifestyle, determinedly embracing wherever surprises the road rolls out ahead for me. I enjoy the freedom of the single life, and thrive with the challenges and fears of living in developing country. I revel in being the person whose life plans, goals, and aspirations do not fit into the cookie cutter categories the majority of people fall into, and I seek to do that which I will not regret later in life. I look forward to forcing small children to listen to my tales of sleepy sunrises illuminating the Taj, shy smiles from Bolivian women over afternoon coffee, Serengeti Christmas nights in the company of lions and elephants, and countless other adventures throughout countless other countries. At the end of the day I plan to sit back and smile, completely content knowing that I never passed up an adventure. And the sum of all those individual adventures and experiences has morphed into me, has grown me, and has transfigured my entire being. That to me is life to the fullest, and how life should be lived- regardless of location. Therefore I will fully live this life the way God intended, not simply surviving, and follow this free spirit of mine wherever it may lead me.
My brother refers to me as free spirit. My mother speaks of my unrelenting independence- and to illustrate her point, immediately tells the story about when I was a baby, not yet two, how I left our campsite, trekked the distance to the ocean, and never once looked over my shoulder for guidance or assistance. Other terms have been used to describe me as well, some vagabond, some hippy, some wonderer, some stubborn. I embrace them all fully, yet no one fully defines me. I cannot really explain the feeling I have on foreign soil. All I know is that I was just 15 when I first left my ‘nice’ American bubble and feel in fiercely in love. Not just with the country of Costa Rica, but with traveling as a whole. With the fascination that during one flight, your entire universe as you knew it will be expanded, challenged, destroyed, and you will be forced to look at an entire different world and thus develop a radically transformed worldview. The incredibly addictive aspect is the realization that experience can be routinely recreated and maintained with every journey. Over a decade later, this love is stronger than ever. I wonder sometimes if it was some adolescent phase that I’m perpetually trapped in, that I’ve never grown out while everyone else did. However, I remain completely satisfied with my decision to step outside the lines (was I ever really in them?) to stretch my boundaries, my experiences, my heart, my mind, my expectations. I know that these decisions will only strengthen me as a person, and therefore I am committed fully to being here in India. In every aspect. I know that the essence of my life consists in family, friends and loved ones, and yet despite the oceans that span between us, find comfort in the fact that they will always serve as my compass, my north star. That love and support motivates me towards the unpredictable unknown. I’ve come to receive each day for what it is, here in this time zone, in this zip code, and nowhere else. I know that the life I am currently living- however wonderful- is fleeting, that one day I will have far more structure and responsibility, and might one day even qualify as an adult (doubtful), yet this realization propels me to become increasingly committed to fully utilizing the time at hand. For the time being, I remain intrinsically bound to this lifestyle, determinedly embracing wherever surprises the road rolls out ahead for me. I enjoy the freedom of the single life, and thrive with the challenges and fears of living in developing country. I revel in being the person whose life plans, goals, and aspirations do not fit into the cookie cutter categories the majority of people fall into, and I seek to do that which I will not regret later in life. I look forward to forcing small children to listen to my tales of sleepy sunrises illuminating the Taj, shy smiles from Bolivian women over afternoon coffee, Serengeti Christmas nights in the company of lions and elephants, and countless other adventures throughout countless other countries. At the end of the day I plan to sit back and smile, completely content knowing that I never passed up an adventure. And the sum of all those individual adventures and experiences has morphed into me, has grown me, and has transfigured my entire being. That to me is life to the fullest, and how life should be lived- regardless of location. Therefore I will fully live this life the way God intended, not simply surviving, and follow this free spirit of mine wherever it may lead me.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
weekend, i live for the weekend.
more pictures- this time of our weekend adventure to chenai beach.
i need to start using picassa. i'll work on that for next time.
i need to start using picassa. i'll work on that for next time.
i've also decided it's completely physical impossible to have a bad day while at the beach.
fact.
fact.
parade/protest along the way- complete with angels and brides.
fishing for dinner.
sweet sweet beach.
pure joy.
not staged, ingrid is mean. once half wet, why not join the rest in swimming in your clothes?
the group- end of the day.
stopped at a church on the way home.
what better way to end the day?a picture is worth a lakh of words
pictures from one of my first HIV programmes this weekend. despite a 3 hour- 5 bus journey to arrive, it was well worth it. the women were wonderful. it's not official yet, but i think i might have the greatest job in the world. true story. Wednesday, July 9, 2008
the heart of the matter
I’ve realized that I’ve been rambling on about the quirks of Kerala, about the language, the transportation, the sicknesses and the coffee (future post)…without really addressing why I’m actually here and how my days have been occupied. Since it’s the reason behind the madness that is my current life in Kerala, I figure I should fill you in. I have been working at CASP for about a month now, and until recently it has been moving really slow. (As a result, I’ve adopted the phrase: TII- this is India). For the first week or two, I worked on countless documents (100 pages!) for a large conference that I am working with (including UNICEF and WHO!- my future employers) concerning the situational analysis of children affected by HIV/AIDS in Kerala. Exciting stuff, and I’m looking forward to participating in the convention in August, but not the real reason why I am here.
After several meetings I presented my grant proposal and was able to fully describe my project to the entire CASP office, including goals, methods, objectives and outputs. It was incredibly encouraging to watch my supervisors become engaged and truly excited in my project, speaking about how greatly the services are needed, how useful the program manual will be, and spewing out recommendations of places to teach and suggestions for the program. (To sum up again quickly- I am teaching HIV/AIDS education and prevention, targeting women and children, creating a policy recommendation, and developing a comprehensive manual for future programs to ensure the projects sustainability).
The day after I presented my project proposal my supervisor (named Princy and probably the nicest woman in the world) gave me a long and detailed list. I looked at her perplexed and questioned what the document was. She responded quickly: “Your programs- you will teach all of these.” I looked down again in disbelief and sure enough, it was program after program printed neatly in a matrix. At least a program every other day. Some twice a day. Throughout the whole of Kerala. She said all she had to do is send out a memo to relevant stakeholders detailing my project, and the next day had lots of requests for me to come and deliver my HIV/AIDS education and prevention programs for their available population. I quickly skimmed over the list, my heart rapidly beating due to excitement- and truthfully on the account of numerous nerves. I had assumed that I would at least have a month before I started teaching, that I could travel around and listen to other similar programs to gain some ideas and formatting to my own project. When I tentatively asked her if that was possible, she said that there was no other program like mine. So as a result, I would just start teaching. It was needed, so I would do it. Simple as that.
Back to the list, there they were, each date corresponding to a location, details of the group dynamics I will be teaching to (ranging from graduate students, to primary students, from married women to healthcare professionals), and the estimated number of attendants. Princy quickly explained that this is only for 2 months, and she was already working on more programs because she was unable to fit all of the interested parties within the 2 month window. In the next breath she apologized that some rural districts would only have 20 people in attendance for the program, and would understand if I did not want to teach on account of small numbers. Of course my answer was no- that 20 was fantastic and not at all too small. I’m surprised that 20 people in the entire state of Kerala wants to hear me ramble on, and 20 people in a rural village was completely welcomed. My eyes continued to travel over the stage and froze on one specific number. The number was 4,000. Unable to trust my voice, I merely pointed at the number, tore my eyes away to gaze up at Princy, my jaw hanging slightly open from shock. Her always present smile broadened into an even wider grin. “Yes, yes” she said “that should be a very good program for you.” You think? 4,000 attendants. And me, as the keynote speaker. I’ve handled crowds of 600 people, but that was at camps, leading excited adolescents in games and relays (albeit mega relays...). It’s probably going to be just a little different. Especially considering I will be on stage in front of 4,000 people (as the only foreigner) speaking very candidly about sex, disease, condoms and HIV/AIDS. I am already imagining the worst case scenarios, such as falling and breaking my nose on my way on stage, attempting to wear a sari only to have it fall to the ground mid-program, deeply offending the crowd and instantly turning them into an angry mob thirsting after my blood. Of course, I know that this is irrational, but funny and a standard reaction nonetheless.
Despite my apprehensions about the 4,000, I remain incredibly excited and encouraged. My first program is this Saturday, and it will include about 40 women. I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes. In between teaching, I'll be traveling around in the field visit and working with various other HIV/AIDS programs, monitoring effectiveness and developing policy recommendations. I am starting to get a real feel of my end output- the educational manual and am able to visualize the end result, which makes me really excited. Always feels good pouring yourself into projects that are meaningful and effective- a real sense of purpose does wonders.
After several meetings I presented my grant proposal and was able to fully describe my project to the entire CASP office, including goals, methods, objectives and outputs. It was incredibly encouraging to watch my supervisors become engaged and truly excited in my project, speaking about how greatly the services are needed, how useful the program manual will be, and spewing out recommendations of places to teach and suggestions for the program. (To sum up again quickly- I am teaching HIV/AIDS education and prevention, targeting women and children, creating a policy recommendation, and developing a comprehensive manual for future programs to ensure the projects sustainability).
The day after I presented my project proposal my supervisor (named Princy and probably the nicest woman in the world) gave me a long and detailed list. I looked at her perplexed and questioned what the document was. She responded quickly: “Your programs- you will teach all of these.” I looked down again in disbelief and sure enough, it was program after program printed neatly in a matrix. At least a program every other day. Some twice a day. Throughout the whole of Kerala. She said all she had to do is send out a memo to relevant stakeholders detailing my project, and the next day had lots of requests for me to come and deliver my HIV/AIDS education and prevention programs for their available population. I quickly skimmed over the list, my heart rapidly beating due to excitement- and truthfully on the account of numerous nerves. I had assumed that I would at least have a month before I started teaching, that I could travel around and listen to other similar programs to gain some ideas and formatting to my own project. When I tentatively asked her if that was possible, she said that there was no other program like mine. So as a result, I would just start teaching. It was needed, so I would do it. Simple as that.
Back to the list, there they were, each date corresponding to a location, details of the group dynamics I will be teaching to (ranging from graduate students, to primary students, from married women to healthcare professionals), and the estimated number of attendants. Princy quickly explained that this is only for 2 months, and she was already working on more programs because she was unable to fit all of the interested parties within the 2 month window. In the next breath she apologized that some rural districts would only have 20 people in attendance for the program, and would understand if I did not want to teach on account of small numbers. Of course my answer was no- that 20 was fantastic and not at all too small. I’m surprised that 20 people in the entire state of Kerala wants to hear me ramble on, and 20 people in a rural village was completely welcomed. My eyes continued to travel over the stage and froze on one specific number. The number was 4,000. Unable to trust my voice, I merely pointed at the number, tore my eyes away to gaze up at Princy, my jaw hanging slightly open from shock. Her always present smile broadened into an even wider grin. “Yes, yes” she said “that should be a very good program for you.” You think? 4,000 attendants. And me, as the keynote speaker. I’ve handled crowds of 600 people, but that was at camps, leading excited adolescents in games and relays (albeit mega relays...). It’s probably going to be just a little different. Especially considering I will be on stage in front of 4,000 people (as the only foreigner) speaking very candidly about sex, disease, condoms and HIV/AIDS. I am already imagining the worst case scenarios, such as falling and breaking my nose on my way on stage, attempting to wear a sari only to have it fall to the ground mid-program, deeply offending the crowd and instantly turning them into an angry mob thirsting after my blood. Of course, I know that this is irrational, but funny and a standard reaction nonetheless.
Despite my apprehensions about the 4,000, I remain incredibly excited and encouraged. My first program is this Saturday, and it will include about 40 women. I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes. In between teaching, I'll be traveling around in the field visit and working with various other HIV/AIDS programs, monitoring effectiveness and developing policy recommendations. I am starting to get a real feel of my end output- the educational manual and am able to visualize the end result, which makes me really excited. Always feels good pouring yourself into projects that are meaningful and effective- a real sense of purpose does wonders.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
nevermind
okay so i lied about the 4th celebration. it still happened, but i did not attend. i had bigger and better plans. i instead chose to get a violent illness and spend 4 days playing a game called 'rid your body of all fluids', passing out several times (once on a public bus- a memory which i will treasure forever), testing the validity of the claim that it's easy to get strong prescription medication without a doctor in india (true), taking all sorts of intense medication, and seriously believing that the end was near. however, have no fear my loves. the end is still very far off. i've returned (in part) to the land of the living, albeit, not the land of the eating, and have exited the house (faint free!) for the first time in days. big news. i'm taking it easy by the computer for most of the day for fear that i may black out in public yet again (so not cute). and i plan on recovering in full by tomorrow. as for the rest of the crew, the 4th of july party went as planned- i was able to hear my party mix playing strong on the roof from my sickbed- and the bums got to ride an elephant yesterday. you can check their blogs for the exciting details, i'm still to bitter to acknowledge it. no worries, my weekend may have been controlled by a wicked stomach incident, but those parasites can't (and won't) keep me down. no, no.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
strikes and celebrations
greetings all. this blog comes courtesy of a strike...and a holiday. a little bit of both apparently, but the most important ascept is that we have the day off. again. i've been here 3 weeks and i'm fairly certain that this is my third strike. some are 'stronger' than others- meaning if buses run and you attempt to ride a bus, you risk rocks being slung at your head. or if you open your business, you run the risk of it being burned down. thankfully, the one time i did ride the bus during a strike, it apparently was a 'weak' strike, meaning my head remained free from any collisions with rocks. of course, just to be safe i remained low and away from the window to the best of my ability. however today is a 'strong' strike. meaning everything is on lock down. no school, no work, no public transportation. i'm not complaining. it allowed me to sleep in and to start chipping away at a to-do list that somehow managed to follow me across continents.
however, according to our yoga teacher (who might just know everything) they did a study last year and discovered that out of the 12 months in a year, people only worked for 10 months. not including normal time off or holidays. just strikes. wow. i think it's time for kerala to look into the whole communist strike method and question if it is really working. (well- i guess it's working if you have a love for spontaneous days off). the good news is that people are out enjoying the break. i watched a father teaching his son how to ride a bike. a charming scene until he let go and the little tyke went crashing down. regardless, i guess the moral of the story is 'when in india, go on strike' (said by some brilliant man). oh, i forgot to mention that during my first week of class, i got approached to join in a hunger strike (accidentally i think i agreed). something i wouldn't have an issue partaking in, however it was never described to be exactly what they were striking for, and from what i could tell, no one else really knew either. india just really loves strikes apparently.
however, according to our yoga teacher (who might just know everything) they did a study last year and discovered that out of the 12 months in a year, people only worked for 10 months. not including normal time off or holidays. just strikes. wow. i think it's time for kerala to look into the whole communist strike method and question if it is really working. (well- i guess it's working if you have a love for spontaneous days off). the good news is that people are out enjoying the break. i watched a father teaching his son how to ride a bike. a charming scene until he let go and the little tyke went crashing down. regardless, i guess the moral of the story is 'when in india, go on strike' (said by some brilliant man). oh, i forgot to mention that during my first week of class, i got approached to join in a hunger strike (accidentally i think i agreed). something i wouldn't have an issue partaking in, however it was never described to be exactly what they were striking for, and from what i could tell, no one else really knew either. india just really loves strikes apparently.
well, one of my all time favorite holidays is tomorrow. 4th of july. every year my family rises early, heads into dc to secure a spot on the highly coveted capital grass and spends the day in the sun, eating subs, playing all sorts of games, and listening to patriotic music. waiting with thousands of our closest friends for the thrilling 45 minutes firework show surrounding the monument. one of my favorite days of the year, hands down. my heart will, without a doubt be there with the rest of the turner clan...
however, have no fear, i am not giving up celebration. you all should be proud to know that we are celebrating our nations independence even while on foreign soil. the party is coming together quite nicely. it includes our roof, fireworks, barbecue (granted indian style, but still counts for something), kingfishers a plenty, mosquito coils, candles, music (and of course dancing), fireworks- yes that's right, we managed to hunt down some fireworks, and everything red white and blue. in fact its a requirement to be admitted into the party. we even have some indian attendees who are looking for a good party- and turns out, know a little something of independence from the british themselves. so it should be a good time. stay tuned for pictures of the festivities. yay america!
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