It is hard to believe we only have a week left to work on our respective projects. Tomorrow morning will be my last time flying to Hyderabad. When I return to Chennai, Rock and I will be heading north to see the sites.
Random observations about which I keep intending to write:
I am often reminded of the cultural difference in the concept of appropriate spacing between people when I am in line for something. I give a foot or two of space to the person in front of me and inevitably someone else comes and cuts in front of me, not out of maliciousness, but because anyone in here who is seriously in line would never leave so much space in a line. Not that there is much of a concept of “lines” in India – the culture here is much less concerned about the fairness behind “first come, first served” than your typical American. This makes giving more space to the person in front of you even more counterproductive if you actually want to complete the task for which you are waiting. Promptly reminded of all this, I crunch in and give the person in front of me a half inch rather than a foot.
Reminders that you are in India: when you see a cow or (sometimes, more rarely) a camel parked next to a car in a major city.
Something troubling: “fairness creams” and their commercials. I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side – people with fairer skin in my home country risk skin cancer in tanning salons, and here people buy creams that are supposed to make you lighter. But here some of the commercials make me a bit angry. In one, a beautiful dark Indian girl is at a bank where she gives money to a fairer Indian male, who gives a disgusted look to her. Cut to a shot of the fairness cream. Now back to the young lady, who after taking this cream supposedly becomes lighter, and this time the same male gives her a rose rather than a disgusted look. I have an issue with that message. I have seen this type of mentality harm the self-concept of some of my beautiful, dark friends here.
We will miss India tremendously. We will not miss the stress of our respective projects, although we will miss working with great people and being part of something bigger than ourselves. We won’t miss mefloquine’s side effects--anxiety, sleeplessness, sometimes depression, etc.--or only seeing each other two or three days a week. I won’t miss my biweekly red eye flights on rubber-band planes through monsoon weather. One night I flew on a small propeller plane from Hyderabad to Chennai and arrived to the height of a major storm in Chennai that ended up flooding the city and downing trees. The wind was so bad in Chennai that the plane felt like a rollercoaster. We weren’t able to land and we had to fly all the way back to Hyderabad, where we refueled and waited for the storm to end and then flew back to Chennai a second time. As the storm was moving north, we passed through it yet one more time, but at least it had cleared Chennai by the time we were ready to land. Not fun.
I will miss the sense of optimism, progress and hope here. I will not miss my own reactions to the daily reminders of poverty – I have become more hardened than I would care to admit and have all too often failed the test of compassion. Rock does better.
Random observations about which I keep intending to write:
I am often reminded of the cultural difference in the concept of appropriate spacing between people when I am in line for something. I give a foot or two of space to the person in front of me and inevitably someone else comes and cuts in front of me, not out of maliciousness, but because anyone in here who is seriously in line would never leave so much space in a line. Not that there is much of a concept of “lines” in India – the culture here is much less concerned about the fairness behind “first come, first served” than your typical American. This makes giving more space to the person in front of you even more counterproductive if you actually want to complete the task for which you are waiting. Promptly reminded of all this, I crunch in and give the person in front of me a half inch rather than a foot.
Reminders that you are in India: when you see a cow or (sometimes, more rarely) a camel parked next to a car in a major city.
Something troubling: “fairness creams” and their commercials. I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side – people with fairer skin in my home country risk skin cancer in tanning salons, and here people buy creams that are supposed to make you lighter. But here some of the commercials make me a bit angry. In one, a beautiful dark Indian girl is at a bank where she gives money to a fairer Indian male, who gives a disgusted look to her. Cut to a shot of the fairness cream. Now back to the young lady, who after taking this cream supposedly becomes lighter, and this time the same male gives her a rose rather than a disgusted look. I have an issue with that message. I have seen this type of mentality harm the self-concept of some of my beautiful, dark friends here.
We will miss India tremendously. We will not miss the stress of our respective projects, although we will miss working with great people and being part of something bigger than ourselves. We won’t miss mefloquine’s side effects--anxiety, sleeplessness, sometimes depression, etc.--or only seeing each other two or three days a week. I won’t miss my biweekly red eye flights on rubber-band planes through monsoon weather. One night I flew on a small propeller plane from Hyderabad to Chennai and arrived to the height of a major storm in Chennai that ended up flooding the city and downing trees. The wind was so bad in Chennai that the plane felt like a rollercoaster. We weren’t able to land and we had to fly all the way back to Hyderabad, where we refueled and waited for the storm to end and then flew back to Chennai a second time. As the storm was moving north, we passed through it yet one more time, but at least it had cleared Chennai by the time we were ready to land. Not fun.
I will miss the sense of optimism, progress and hope here. I will not miss my own reactions to the daily reminders of poverty – I have become more hardened than I would care to admit and have all too often failed the test of compassion. Rock does better.
posted by Jen at 10:24 AM
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