The India Chronicles: Letter #5

Good morning friends and family!

I’ve discovered that 11.5 hours away is a really big time difference. A frustrating, difficult, big time difference. But there are some blessings to that—I have resolved myself to be here. Always a good idea when in a foreign country, don’t you think? I didn’t realize how much I was not until I decided to be. Funny how sometimes you don’t realize what you’re feeling until a week later when you’re not feeling it any more, or feeling something different.

Like the roads here: when I first arrived, I didn’t even realize how terrified and secretly appalled I was my the Hyderabad hi way system, but now I can tell how differently I feel. I’ve more than gotten used to it, I’ve accepted it. The masses of chaotic traffic, the continuous, loud horns, the constant fight to pass the vehicle in front of you; the frenzied disorganized road at first looked like a muddled, confused mess, but now I can see the system, and in its own way it works. I’ve learned to kind of ignore the superfluous noise, and just soak it in. I’ve made a goal to appreciate all the things I won’t see again when I go back to living in the first world. So death-walk to cross the street? Bring it on.

Yesterday we met with our biggest partner, SAPID. A local NGO run by two firecracker Indian women. They’re both no larger than 5’ tall, and at first glance they’re quite frail, but in reality they’re just dynamite. Their hard work was the cause of turning that several-thousand-people slum into a government-recognized community. They organized community leaders, brought water into the slums, and got rid of every reported case of abuse, along with many many other powerful and impressive changes they’ve brought to the third world to raise them up out of the depths of poverty. All I’ve done here? Complain about the food.

After our meeting with them, I was inspired to go DO something. Hudson and I went to a women’s shelter to see what we could do to help them. On the way, we took an auto.

Autos are yellow cars with no doors. Picture a three-wheeled rickshaw, driven like a motorcycle. One haggles the price before getting in, and we usually get ripped off cause we’re white. (We have to remind ourselves we’re fighting over 10 rupees, which is less than 20 cents. But it’s still annoying.) Another thing about Indian people, they will give you directions even if they don’t know where you’re asking about. They’re so thoughtful and trying to be helpful!

So we’re riding in an auto, trying to get to the landmark “Ghandi Statue” which we were told everyone knows its location. Our auto driver stopped to asks a few people for directions. It wasn’t looking good. We were hoping to meet our translator right at 6:00 and it was getting close, Hudson was worried. I said a really short prayer, half to make Hudson laugh. “Dear Heavenly Father, please let us get to the Ghandi statue.” Then I added, “Safely. Amen.” Literally 10 second later we pull up next to the ghandi statue and the women’s shelter. Prayer works! 

We met a translator there: another firecracker Indian woman. She’s in her last year at law school and met us through doing an internship with another NGO. Really neat lady.

When we got there the women collectively wanted to learn English. So Hudson and I scrapped up a beginning lesson of asking questions, “how are you?” “where are you from?” “what do you like to do?” “what is your favorite____?” and responses, “I am from ____” “I like to _______” “My favorite _____ is ______.” Learning a new language is painful, slow, and difficult. Most of the women we were with had some education, some even quite impressive credentials. But they can’t get a job without English. I have all the resources in the world at my fingertips, and I can’t learn another language. They have none and are desperate to. I so desperately wish I could snap my fingers and give them the same opportunities I have had in my life—they’d utilize them better.

Any ideas on how I can help them more?

--Averill