Family plus,
I found out that HELP India is the hardest to recruit for. It’s not glamorous like Africa or Thailand, it doesn’t have a beach like Fiji or Belize, it’s just a hot, dirty, problematic third world. I wish I’d known about the other countries… just kidding!
But these circumstances lead to a specific group of people who end up on the India team: they have all been abroad before, and are serious about development. They are also very funny. My first morning, one girl came out to our morning meeting in a wedding dress. Full-on, head-to-toe white flowing fabric. No one else acknowledged it, and I didn’t want to be rude so I didn’t say anything. I later heard from different stories about how this girl just wears the wedding dress when she misses her boyfriend too much. She’ll just break down if anyone mentions anything about him. So I was to avoid referencing a “Josh.” One guy on the team even told me he didn’t think Josh was real at all… So here I am thinking Abby is a little… well, what would you think?
Plus my first friends, the two first people I met, someone told me they were cousins. Their project sounded the most interesting, so I jumped on with enthusiasm for creating an entrepreneurship class for women.
Turns out those two are actually dating. So I’m buckling in as my professional third wheel status. Also turns out they were playing a prank on me with the wedding dress girl—they don’t know that I know it was a prank. So Abby and I are trying to figure out how to get them back for that one… any ideas??
We went to an orphanage, and while our lesson didn’t really get anywhere, I met the most incredible man who was our translator, Vasanth. He was a convert to our church, 6 years ago, and said, “I’m a product of the church.” His job, his language skills (which were awesome) and his community he said he owed to the church. He was so incredibly nice. Even though he was Indian, he felt like a little piece of familiar home. 
The third world is a difficult place. Everything is frantic, chaotic, and messy. Not only the city but also the problems. No problem here has “a solution” or “the answer.” Everything is complicated. There have been a lot of passionate people who have come through here trying to solve things that are basically unsolvable. All I can hope for is to try and do some good, I suppose. Even if it’s not a large impact (which I’ve come to accept it won’t be) it will still be good. It’s also incredibly humbling—I’ve never been so grateful for the simple things I take for granted. Like not spending 4 hours a day to get semi-clean water to use to wash things. Or having a home that I’m not afraid will get bulldozed by the government at any moment. Or being able to read. I look at my advantages in life completely differently.
It is beautiful and colorful here. Sometimes we’ll come by a really phenomenal smell, and sometimes we’ll come across a really colorful one in another direction... The clothing here is so colorful. Most women wear traditional clothing every day, and it’s all so bright and bold. Even in the slums. Like I’ve mentioned before, I think their faces are stunningly beautiful.
Last night we went wandering through the streets of Secunerabad following the sound of drums. We stumbled across a wedding. They pulled us onto the dance floor—a mess of beautiful, decked-out young people trying to teach us a dance (Indian dancing=not my strong suit). We wandered back through this veil of white flowers and chandeliers, into a traditional Indian wedding. We were the equivalent of rock stars. People wanted to take pictures with us; they wanted their children to take pictures with us. Ashley got handed a baby at one point. Everyone was so welcoming. The father of the bride (we think) insisted on us coming in and eating. (We’d already eaten, but they were happy with us at least eating ice cream, which was delicious). The celebration was incredible—they had food buffet tables set up filling an entire garden, with different cuisines from around the world, and professional chefs in every corner. Fruit bars and ice cream stations and lot of stuff our Indian friends insisted we try, that were very very Indian (some of them actually inedible). There were flowers everywhere. The groom rode in on a horse, picked up his striking bride. We were fairly certain it was an arranged marriage because they were both a little stiff. But they still looked so happy. They stood in the center of a platform as it rose up and hundreds of pink rose petals showered them, while a million pictures were shot. The intricate henna patterns on their hands and arms complimented the complicated jeweled beading and jewelry. They were beautiful. We met alovely young woman named Mythri, (pronounced mytree) who wanted to practice her English with us. She became our tour guide and asked if we could be best friends, I of course agreed. We’re now facebook friends.
Also, my bag still hasn’t come. I think my clothes are starting to mold on my body… But it doesn’t smell any different than anything else here, so it’s hard to tell. Half the fun of living in the third world right?
Love you all,
-Averill
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