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Settling Into Dehradun
India. New Delhi. Dehradun. Names that fed our imaginations as we prepared to fly from Kathmandu, which had once done the same, as all places unvisited do to some extent, before our feet are on the ground and we can discover the realities for ourselves. We’ve been here for two weeks now, and are starting to develop some routines, to demystify the mysterious, to recognise faces when we walk down the street, to feel at home in our new surroundings.
The flight from Kathmandu was punctual and uneventful, and included delicious vegetarian fare which helped us get through the day. Once in Delhi we hopped in a taxi and went directly to the train station, as it was our intention to reach our destination in one day. As we walked away from the taxi the fun began. Before we could enter the station buildings to enquire about tickets, we were accosted by a “helpful” man who assured us that it was impossible to buy same-day tickets at the station itself. For this it was necessary to get back in a rickshaw and travel to a travel agent a short distance away. This seemed pretty odd, but we dutifully followed his instructions and deposited ourselves at the travel office…and then another travel office…and another…and none of them were able to help us, as their internet facilities weren’t working. We put two and two together and realised that a train station that didn’t sell same-day tickets was an unlikely facility in modern-day Delhi, so we retraced our rickshaw steps, found the tourist ticket office, and Edmund stood in the necessary queues and filled out the required forms. We got on the 3.30 train to Dehradun without further detours or distractions, reaching our destination at about 10.30 p.m., where Jo was waiting for us and drove us to our new home.
Coming from our 8 x 8 room at the monastery, we are delighting in the space we have in the bungalow we’ll share with Paula, a special needs educator and trainer who returns from England later this week. We’re situated in a quiet, leafy green suburb of the busy city of Dehradun, an easy vikram (3-wheeled vehicle that seats 7 passengers comfortably and almost double that normally!) drive from the city centre, but far from the pollution and the hubbub. Our house has sizeable rooms fitted with ceiling fans, cool stone floors, a kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and a lawn! To us, it’s luxurious, and extremely convenient to the places we’re starting to work, most of which are located a few minutes’ walk away. It’s a residential neighbourhood containing some impressive homes, many of which belong to retired government officials. At night it’s beautifully silent…all we hear is the whirring of our ceiling fan.
It is monsoon season here, quite hot and sticky, but apparently it’s the most user-friendly monsoon in years, with tolerable temperatures and moderate rainfall in comparison to what it can be. We carry our umbrellas with us virtually everywhere, as the sky can fill unexpectedly with heavy storm clouds, but often they’re unnecessary accessories. Soon the weather will turn cooler and the dry autumn days will set in.
Our days have been getting busy with all sorts of stimulating projects and routines. I have been spending my mornings at Karuna Vihar, the school for children with special needs that Jo started eleven years ago. They’re short-staffed at the moment and seem genuinely happy to have an extra pair of hands. There are 5 class groups full of wonderful children, led by creative, kind, dedicated teachers and support staff, and the time flies by, as there’s no room for attention to wander; the kids demand all of it! The lessons are rich in imaginative play, learning games, and activity. The class I’ve been with this week, for example, might have a day like the following:
After taking attendance, counting heads, discussing what day it is (using sign language as well as Hindi), and creating a picture schedule for the pinboard so the students can visualise how the day will unfold, we kick off with a maths lesson using a variety of counting activities such as crayon-counting, bead-stringing, board-pegging, sorting exercises and puzzles, whatever is appropriate for each child. This might be followed by a dancing session, or playing shop, or some gentle yoga, gardening, or dressing-up. Daily I am amazed at the fun we have! In another class I spent a morning with recently, there was a paper-tearing activity, an element of which involved blowing our scraps of paper across the table. In one memorable lesson, a big candle and a small candle were offered to each child, who blew out whichever candle they selected. You can see the learning value in every activity, even the free play sessions.
A brief digression. I’ve been trying to come to grips with some basic Hindi, and working at the school helps. The staff explain everything slowly and clearly, usually with multiple repetitions and accompanying sign language and gestures. The students don’t laugh at me when I try to say a few phrases, and this is most encouraging! As in Thailand, and to some extent Nepal, I’m having a whale of a time trying to decipher street signs and the sentences in my Hindi textbook, which keeps me company in many spare hours (which are rapidly disappearing!).
The school keeps me busy and happy from about 9-1 p.m., when the students head home, driven off in school vans or collected on motorbikes and other modes of transport. English lessons for staff at the school as well as some staff from the Vocational Training Centre (VTC), an associated project, begin immediately. We finish at 3, after which I go to either Latika Vihar, a centre for fun and creativity for children which is a 5-minute walk down the road, or the Early Intervention Centre, which is in the city centre, on a private school campus, for English lessons with staff at these outfits.
The English lessons have only just begun, but I’m feeling quite excited about them. Initially I was mildly surprised that the staff wanted to improve their English, as what I’d heard issue from their mouths was of a very high standard indeed! However, they have assured me that they genuinely want to increase their confidence using spoken English as well as their competence in various areas, and as long as they keep coming, I’ll keep them busy! They are incredibly open and responsive, and it’s been an exciting change to work with adult women (as opposed to lovely young monks), who can teach ME so much about their lives through the exchanges that take place in language classes. Already I’ve heard fascinating accounts of why individuals became interested in working with children with special needs, what different names mean and how they were bestowed on their bearers, and more. As teachers themselves, they appreciate an activity-based approach, and as usual, I appreciate the opportunity to be a learner as we work our way through activities and share details of our lives.
The women at work and in society in general look elegant and colourful in their saris, salwar kameezes, and bangles. I’ve been feeling a mite self-conscious with my muscular calves exposed for all to see (and the children at Karuna Vihar to squeeze!) under my knee-length short trousers, so yesterday we went on a hunt for a salwar kameez, the lovely traditional clothing worn by many of the women, young and old. It consists of a pair of trousers, sometimes puffy and voluminous, other times more parallel and tighter, under a long shirt (kameez) slit up the sides. It’s flattering and comfortable-looking, and there are many styles and acceptable lengths for sleeves and shirt length. Virtually everyone buys fabric in one place and brings it to a tailor to sew, though it’s possible to do it all under one roof, and there are some shops which sell ready-made garments. We visited a few fabric shops and Edmund took charge while salesmen ordered us to sit down and flung bales of fabric before us, hoping one would take our fancy. One did, a dark green material with decorative neck and sleeves already sewn on. A tailor was immediately called and my measurements were deftly and discreetly taken. On Friday we’ll pick up the finished product, and if it’s successful, there’ll be more business for local tailors!
Edmund has been busy in these first weeks with two very different projects. He has been taking the photographs for the Karuna Vihar 2007 Calendar. The theme of the calendar will be ‘Imagination’ and the photographs are needing to complement quotes. It’s been an interesting challenge. The other thing he’s been asked to do is to help design and put together the introductory pages for a website that PSI is putting together. It is for a mapping project which will show tabular census details in a visual form. It’s a very interesting project and should keep him well occupied. The hope is that the site will be up and running for testing by mid/late October. It will be worth a look – not for the design but for the content. This is to be a pilot project, starting with the state of Uttaranchal, but developing into an India-wide mapping resource. So he too is busy and happy.
Finally, before we sew up this text, we must say something about our return to fruit. At Namo Buddha fruit was a rare and precious thing. Now a daily jumbo fruit salad is the hub of our diet. Peeling and chopping takes about an hour, as it involves fresh mangos, papaya, pomegranate, apples and/or pears, bananas, and sometimes oranges or a pineapple. The colourful and tasty concoctions continue to be source of wonder to us; the novelty hasn't worn off yet! On the subject of food, we have found a local Indian restaurant that feeds us spicily and inexpensively whenever we feel too tired to cook. We are already "regulars".
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Mussorie Recce
Sunday, 20 August On Friday, after we finished our commitments in town, we hopped on a bus and spiralled (or so it seemed) up the steep mountain sides to Mussoorie, a hill-station town which has earned the title “Queen of the Hills”. We looked forward to the height, the clean air, and a weekend break from Dehradun. With the offer of a place to stay thrown into the equation, we were almost dizzy with anticipation – and after the bus trip up, “dizzy” seemed an even more appropriate adjective to describe our condition!
We arrived in Mussoorie armed with a hand-drawn map of everything we needed to know in order to safely reach our destination, with the exception of one vital piece of information....... contour lines! Had the slope of the hills we had to climb been evident from the map, we might have considered taking a taxi, but we knew no better and set off, immediately trudging, up the hill. And up. And up. Eventually, in a quiet area far removed from the busy streets and shopping areas of the lower reaches, we reached the house we’d been told we could stay in. The caretaker, who lives there with his young family, kindly let us in and offered us meals during our stay. The next day we let him provide us with breakfast and dinner, and his culinary skills were second to none!
We spent all day Saturday exploring, trying to get a feel for the lay of the land. The weather was quite fine, but cloudy, so we never got a glimpse of the high peaks, but then again, we didn’t expect them, so weren’t disappointed. We ventured down interesting minor roads, past forest cemeteries; ambled through woods where silver-furred, black-faced monkeys played in the trees, leaping gracefully from branch to precarious branch, babies peering at us shyly, clinging to their mothers; and otherwise made a good start at making sense of our surroundings. The central shopping district was fine for what it was, but at the end of the day, purchase-less, we concluded that we could easily avoid it in the future. In any case, it’s located at virtually the same elevation as the bus station, so you need to have a mission in mind to justify the descent!
We seem to be in a transition period between monsoon and the cooler, clearer air that follows, and October has been mooted as the ideal time to visit Mussorie again. We’re glad we went now; we learned a great deal about what you can do where and how to get from A to B. Next time we hope to be a bit more adventurous in our explorations, particularly if there are Himalayan views to be had.
The bus journeys to and from Mussoorie deserve a paragraph of their own, particularly the return, downhill ride…the kind of ride you pay a hefty entrance fee for in amusement parks. We should have suspected something when we noticed that the bus we boarded was decorated – under any of the windows that opened - with numerous streaks of previous passengers’ vomit. (Stop reading here if this kind of talk makes you queasy!) But we settled in and set off in the morning drizzle, anticipating the hairpin turns with acceptance; after all, they’d been ably handled by the driver on the ride up! To be fair, our driver this morning, whose hair is not yet showing the signs of stress evident in his uphill comrade, also handled his vehicle competently. However, he failed to glance even once in his rear-view mirror, and we expect this is the norm. Had he lifted his eyes from the road (and we’re actually grateful that he didn’t, given that there’s nary a straight stretch until you reach the plain far below Mussoorie) he would have been witness to some considerable distress on the part of his passengers, many of whom put the windows to good use as we whizzed around yet another hairpin turn. The retching and moaning was truly heartrending. We’ll leave it at that. We were fine, amply-prepared for the ride by exciting journeys taken in Laos, Thailand, Nepal, and elsewhere in our lives.
August 26th Today we took up an invitation to visit a German-funded project in a slum area of Dehradun. Pratima, one of the special educators Angie is working with at Karuna Vihar, stays in a hostel connected with the project, and she arranged the day, which was definitely “something to write home about” – another inspiring tale of individuals who saw a need and acted in their own small way, to ever-expanding effect. The image of a stone in a pond with far-reaching ripples is one which springs to our minds again and again. Individuals often seem to embark on a project with strong determination and a desire to help, with no idea how the idea will “take” and how its potential may be realised.
We were picked up by Pratima, who took us directly to the Hope Project school, located in a tightly-packed slum area of about 500 families who originally came from Bihar, Madras, Rajastan, and other parts of the country. The railway line runs right by the settlement, and many of the inhabitants have earned their meagre living by salvaging whatever’s been dumped off the train, selling whatever rubbish they can. There are many people employed in the business of rag-picking here, as in Bangkok, where the recycling is unofficial, but highly organised and efficient. Anyway, a few years ago a young German woman, Caro - 19 at the time, was visiting her longtime pen-friend in India, and the two of them visited the area, saw loads of children NOT receiving an education, and decided, without thinking too much about the difficulties, to try to do something.
We don’t know all the details, but the gist of the story seems to be that they started a school, and at first, very few children came. After all, they could be helping their parents by looking after their siblings while the adults worked or otherwise helping support the family. School had never been an option before; there is no government school within easy reach of the settlement. Slum kids the world over seem to be considered by their governments either uneducable or not worth investing in. It’s a crime that it so often has to be foreigners who come in and perceive the potential in the children, their desire to learn, their ability to be just as “good” in school as their higher caste or higher class peers. And some of these foreigners, hand-in-hand with local partners, take the bit between their teeth, persevere through numerous trial and error experiences if they’re lucky, and develop sustainable projects that prove, conclusively, that fundamentally all human beings have the potential to learn and grow and excel, no matter what their socio-economic background. This is obvious to some of us; it doesn’t need to be proved. But it’s a recurring theme in Asia; we’ve encountered it again and again. In Father Joe’s Mercy Centre, where the “slum kids” label sets kids apart and down, they’re proclaiming to the world that their kids are just as good as kids anywhere else – and educating some of them in international schools like RCNUWC to add an exclamation mark to that claim. At Shree Mangal Dvip, children who would otherwise receive only the basics that the government has seen fit to offer them in their mountain villages, if any formal education at all, are thriving, going on to wow international institutions in Canada, Norway, Portugal, and elsewhere. At the government school in Shyampati, we saw students who, with a bit of preparation, could similarly hold their own in any school. Everywhere there are young people bursting with potential, eager to learn, to develop themselves. Their potential does not limit them. They are limited by what’s available to them, by lack of resources, lack of awareness of their rights, lack of power in societies which are still based on systems of caste, this deep underlying assumption that some people are fundamentally “better” than others.
Back to the story of the Hope Project! Getting children to attend the project was, as mentioned before, not an easy thing to do. To attract potential students, they offered snacks and fun activities such as music, dance, and games, and gradually, kids started to show up, and parents started to send them. They are now bursting at the seams, with up to about 150 children who attend, though the turn-out varies from day to day. There are 5 primary classes, the highest of which is Class II, and one of the rooms is dedicated to vocational training for a group of women. They’re housed in tight, narrow rented space inside the slum they serve, on the upper floor and rooftop of a brick building. The classrooms are very small and windowless but are brightly decorated with posters, bought and hand drawn, of Hindi letters, the English alphabet, songs and poems in both languages, and other user-friendly teaching aids. The children get a hot meal every day, as well as two school uniforms a year and extra clothes, when needed, plus medical attention, haircuts – whatever they need, basically!
We were welcomed like royalty, garlanded with freshly strung flowers, proudly presented with beautiful hand-made cards and origami tulips in beautiful vases, and entertained with a “welcome programme” which included a wonderful rendition of “10 Green Bottles Standing on the Wall”, with students (in green tops – school uniform), dropping away as their turn came to “accidentally fall”! Because they have not had the opportunity to attend school before, some of the students are relatively old; they would not, in “normal” circumstances be attending, for example, kindergarten, but that doesn’t seem to be much of an obstacle to learning. We saw kids of all ages, including some older children who combine schooling with caring for an infant sibling! Once they finish the program offered by the school, they might have a chance to go into a government school and stay at the hostel where Pratima lives. This is where we were taken next.
The hostel is home to 12 young people who completed the programme in their home area and have been offered the opportunity to study at a higher level. Their living space, which is clean, cheerful, and open, consists of one large room with a sleeping area on one side and big tables for eating and working on the other. The hostellers have a strict timetable and punctuality is expected. We were impressed. Now a 100+-bed hostel is being built, with money from a Dutch organisation…... another interesting funding story: Caro’s penfriend and co-starter of the project, Manju, was at an elephant festival in Rajasthan and struck up a conversation with a foreigner in the next seat. He was impressed enough by the story of the Hope Project that upon his return to the Netherlands he established an association and attracted funding (including, we think, from the Dutch government) to cover the costs of the new hostel. Serendipity.
Our initial visit to the project, aptly named “Hope Project” was inspiring. It’s inspiring to see what can be done with a bit of personal drive and determination, with a seed of an idea that found fertile ground. They have a website: www.hopeprojekt.de - take a look. It's in German, but they're working on an English version.
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