Who I met today

Who I met today

Today I met a woman poet born and raised in Hyderabad. Though she was satisfied writing poetry, in the back of her mind she was aware of harsh injustices that exist towards females in India. With that she decided to create her own NGO which focused on domestic violence, and continue to write poetry.

Today I met a Muslim woman who was forced into marriage at the young age of sixteen. Her future fiancé was not an educated man, however those who arranged her marriage knew she was intelligent and still studying so assumed that she could take care of the family. After marriage the woman continued with her education and later became a teacher. As time passed, though the woman was individually supporting her husband and the child in her womb, the husband became resentful towards his wife’s intelligence and felt she was too smart for her own good. In a rage of fury he attacked her and literally cut off her whole nose. Bleeding profusely, this woman was rushed to the emergency room by alarmed neighbors as her husband proceeded on to the police station holding his wife’s nose, announcing his crime. The police did not take any action and the husband ran away, never to return. Now this woman is left, struggling to raise her child. Her face his terribly scarred, and even after plastic surgery she scarcely has a nose. Her face obviously displays a huge open gap and plenty of dark scares. Though her face is an obvious reminder of the results domestic violence, her parents (who she now lives with) are still upset with her for being without a husband and for doing outreach work against domestic violence.

Today I met another young Muslim girl who is now fourteen years of age. When she was thirteen she was kidnapped from her home and held captive for seven months by a man from a nearby village. There, beyond forcing her to fulfill the duties of domestic help, he brutally raped her every single day. As if the physical violation she endured wasn’t enough, she was forced, every evening, to sit outside of the house absolutely naked so everyone in the village could see her. When she inevitably became pregnant the kidnapper discarded her like a piece of trash back in front of her home. He has since done the same with another young girl and was later murdered by the other girl’s family members. This girl now lives at a home where her parents are humiliated by her. She deals with a constant flow verbal abuse of how she has shamed her family’s name by becoming pregnant without being married. She stays at the domestic violence center all day and returns home early evening, only when it is unsafe for her to be out, to avoid constant verbal abuse from her parents.

Another woman I met today is from the Dalit (untouchable) caste. In Hyderabad, because of such a strong Muslim community, her family has also taken up the Purda system (face covering) as many other Dalit families have done. She was never allowed outside of her house, with or without a male, and was not allowed to study. She was married off promptly at the age of sixteen and also experienced some domestic violence at home, the details of which she was too shy to share with me. She has now started working at the center at the age of eighteen and has for the first time in her life seen “Charminar”, a well known monument in Hyderabad. This monument was just by her house her entire life, but she had never set eyes on it because of the lack of freedom she had.

Another Muslim girl I met today has been privileged enough to be allowed to educate herself up to tenth standard, versus most Muslim women in impoverished areas who are expected to support the family, but aren’t allowed to be educated or leave the houses. She herself has chosen to take up social work and has started working at this domestic violence center which does fantastic work with oppressed women. Every single day upon her return home she gets attacked by her parents who do not approve of her doing this work, yet everyday she deals with it and continues on with her noble work. The likelihood of her family disowning her or getting her married to discontinue her work is very high.

Finally two of these women, who are outreach workers at the domestic violence shelter, where I was introduced to all these women, did a phenomenal undercover investigation story. Astonishingly in Hyderabad there is a marriage market. “Brokers” go out and round up parents who are poor enough to take money to sell their daughters. Then when mostly Middle East foreigners come to town they would attend the woman market where they can observe the “merchandise”. Normally these women are covered in barqa, but at the market they were forced to dress up similar to prostitutes (eg an excess of makeup and flowers in their hair). The women (or children in my opinion) are asked to display their walk or show some skin so these men can make an “informed decision”. If the men are interested, the woman is immediately married to him for literally ten to fifteen days. In that short marriage the man sleeps with his new bride and then promptly divorces her and returns home. Since she is already “soiled” she must continue this line of work. Basically legal prostituting, however the women had no right to deny this line of work. These outreach workers went as if they were the women selected, but uniquely chose to keep their barqa on, which concealed the investigation camera they were carrying under their veil. At one point these women had a terrible fright when one of the foreign men had chosen her as his new temporary wife. They were able to get out safely and submit the material to a local TV station to make a story off of it.

These are the people I met today, some shy, some amazingly talkative, some with an excited look in their eyes. No matter what their demeanor these women are strong human beings. Sometimes I listen to conversations and how we feel we are strong people because of our worldly experiences, our education and our work experience. However these women opened my eyes and really made me see how strength comes in so many forms. These women could have easily just given up at any point in time, but instead they took their horrific experiences and used them to benefit, to help others.

Ohh the Colors of Rajasthan

The trip started out with Kendra and I meeting in Bombay. We found each other in a train station that can only be described as havoc. After finding each other we promptly boarded our train and were ready for the 18 hour train ride ahead of us. We were reasonably equipped with junk food, however the aisles keep bringing us vendors selling wonderful chai (Indian tea), un ripe mango with some fried goodies and much more. How could we resist such food?! In the process we met a girl about our age traveling with her whole extended family. During a stop in Gujarat her other family member joined on the train and brought along bags full of Gujarati sweets, those of which she quickly shared with us .

We arrived in Jodhpur, dropped our bags off and ran over to the beautiful fort. This fort is well preserved because it is the only one left in India that is still owned by the Maharaja instead of the government. The listening tour was filled with extraordinary details and from the top of the fort we were able to see the infamous view of Jodhpur’s blue city. Our final leg in Jodhpur was a stroll in old city and then off to the bus leading to Jaiselmer.

Majority of my bus experiences in India have been simple air plane like seats that tilt back and are reasonably comfortable. Within five minutes of stepping on that bus we found out our bus was far from my normal experiences. The bus seats were standard, however the owner decided to use this bus as a transportation not just from Jodhpur to Jaiselmer (a six hour ride), but to all the cities in between as well. After the seats were filled the aisles were packed in with villagers. There was no sitting room for them, and hardly any standing room. Next to us a young girl was taking care of her younger sister, trying to avoid being trampled. The older sister, though protecting her sister, seemed very ill and had a high temperature. As the long ride continues and the girl continued to get trampled we practically adopted this girl sharing our two seats between the three of us, buying her water, holding her hair back while she vomited, fed her fruit we had, and Kendra gave her new duppata to wrap herself in after she vomited in her shawl. Finally her father got a seat at took her back, though she often spoke to us from her seat. At point Kendra and I pulled out our GHETO food. Normally, everywhere we go everyone is well supplied with a full “tiffin” of lunch, so we thought we were being smart and prepared this time by bringing food. Little did we know how difficult it is to eat dal and rice on a paper plate that is as strong as a napkin.

We finally arrive in Jaiselmer, go to our hotel and sleep. At six in the morning we left in a jeep to the middle of the desert to begin our camel trek. For three days and two nights we were discovering the Thar Desert on our camels. My camel, Coco, was the baby and appropriately decorated with a necklace, of course my camel would have cute accessories. We started the trek early in the mornings after drinking chai, and eating boiled eggs, toast and porriage that our camel riders (tour guides gave us). We roamed the desert, stopping at random villages and meeting the people until afternoon, where we found wonderful shade, relaxed and ate lunch. After lunch and a luxurious nap we continued on our camel ride until close to sun set. Then camp was set below some large sand dunes. The camel riders would cook dinner while we relaxed. At night Kendra and I stayed away from the foreigners and spoke to our camel riders for hours on end, singing old Hindi songs, learning of each other’s lives and making jokes. During the three days we were all together the camel riders noticed Kendra and I doing yoga and were eager to learn. We taught four of them how to do yoga and I must say, though we were unsuccessful in teaching them anything, it was comical to watch!

Sad to leave our desert, Kendra and I headed back to the city to enjoy two days of the desert festival going on. There we saw camel races, dance shows and musical performances, all stemming from traditional Rajasthani culture. Interestingly enough Kendra and I, who both work in on HIV/AIDS in India ran into HIV/AIDS booth. Went to speak to them and found out that the camel riders actually prostitute themselves to lonely foreigners that come for long treks. We spoke to one of the outreacher workers who is also a camel rider and prostitutes himself. He was very helpful and unembarrassed in answering our questions on how the offer themselves, as well as how they spread the news about protection. Having spent so much time discussing the subject Kendra and I missed our ride back to the city. The camel rider took us to his restaurant and gave us free chai and gave us a free camel ride to the festivities until we were able to find a ride back to the city.

Finally after a very eventful day we left Jaiselmer on another overnight train to Jodhpur and then a bus from Jodhpur to Udaipur. In Udaipur we were greeted by another AIF fellow who let us stay at his house along with a friend of a friend of Kendra’s who happened to be the AIF fellow’s roommate. Indian constantly proves how vast, yet how small this country can be. In Udaipur we enjoyed wonderful parties with the boys and their friends and beautiful sunset views in this enchanting city full of lakes. At night we met up with the boy’s friend who happens to be an auto driver. This auto driver let me drive the rickshaw down the streets of Udaipur’s old city. Though I seem to have mastered the auto rickshaw I was a little less successful with a two wheeler scooter. Initially I was doing well, until my nerves attacked that is and I rammed us into a pole. Thankfully we just got a couple of bruises. Overall my Rajasthan trip was extraordinary and I already miss it.


Pictures from my trip:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2212989&l=b4b4b&id=6011342

To discuss or not to discuss

The other day my friend and I met for coffee and he mentioned his interest in my work and why I have chosen this profession. It led us into a discussion about poverty, HIV/AIDS, and many other social issues that exist in our world. During our discussion I kept wondering, does anyone really want to be aware of the social issues that actually exist in our society?

We all are aware there is poverty in the world. Each one of us has been channel searching and found ourselves watching those commercials pleading for money for children in Africa, showing us how they are mal-nutritional and uneducated. Does that really mean we understand what is going on around us?

The amount of people who are well knowledge or even work within social issues are small, so naturally I expect people would be inquisitive in the issues at hand, and the work being done to diminish those problems. However, to my surprise many people avoid being aware of the social issues happening in the world. Many of my friends, past and present work in the cooperate sector and are generally unaware of social issues. However if I ever even dare to bring up my work and give examples I am asked why I am being so depressing. I express how I am one of the only people they know in this field, do they not want to take advantage of that and educate themselves on situations they are unaware of? They are not interested in listening, not because they do not care, but because they don’t want to feel depressed over the circumstances; which I find fascinating as they are not the ones living the depressing situations, which is far more painful than knowledge about these situations. And since when has ignorance helped in progress to improve things?

Another example is when I spend time with different friends and the topic of sexual assault comes up, not that it comes up often, however in a few instances when it does. The females in the group mention the frustrations they have to go through as far as being grabbed, vulgar comments that are given, the dirty looks and stares we get, etc. Majority of the time my male friends are so distressed that we are forced to deal with these situations that they don’t want to hear that it occurs. Again I am told “why are you talking about such depressing things, I just want to have fun”. Yet majority of the time friends hang out, the talk is all fun and joking, however the one time a serious, realistic subject is brought up, it’s too depressing to listen to. Yet this is the reality we have to deal with everyday. It is a reality that every day in India I have to be conscious of how I dress, who is watching me, how the auto driver is staring at me, who is going to grab me, evaluate when it is ok to stand up for myself and when it is too dangerous.

Let me make this clear, I am not blaming only males for this. There are numerous male situations that people don’t want to listen to. In addition, I have plenty of male friends who support any sort of conversation of this sort and truly try to protect and empower us in whatever way they can. In addition I am not trying to attack those friends that do not want to hear, I understand reality is a hard truth, however what makes it right to ignore the social problems that are continuing in the world?

I am constantly criticized for my lack of awareness on political situations, which I will admit is a fault of mine that I am working on improving. About 75% of my friends are well aware of the presidential candidates in the US’s upcoming elections and can tell me in full detail what the health care plans are of each candidate. However if I bring up the health care system in India, how it is corrupt and unsupportive it is of it’s vast population, I am only criticized for being depressing. Where does that make any sense? Though I understand that reality can be depressing, does it mean that it is right that we remain ignorant to it?

Urban Health Posts

Urban Health Post

I once visited an Urban Health Post which is a government run semi hospital to treat those in the slums with minor illnesses. A doctor is paid to attend a certain amount of times a week and distribute medicine that is also supplied by the government and is free to the clients. The mission behind UHPs is to support those who are not able to go to hospitals with minor sicknesses like the flu, cough, pains, etc. If the doctor detects something more serious or suspects STIs or HIV they can refer the client to other facilities. As with many programs, the UHP system does not run as smoothly as hoped, however in my experience, it has been more disappointing than expected.
One particular UHP (let me make it clear that the situation is not always this, there ARE some doctors and professionals committed to the cause) I visited, the nurses and clients repeatedly complained that the doctor was not attending the days he was supposed to come. Luckily I had attended the day the doctor had actually come; everyone looked extremely tense. Apparently the doctor, when he did come, was extremely rude to the staff and literally scared them to death, which I saw the evidence of. During my visit the doctor came to know an “American” was visiting and asked to speak to me. There he explained to me in detail how he hates coming and he doesn’t trust any of these people, including my co workers, and that I shouldn’t either. He went on to say many horrible things about everyone that steps foot in the UHP. He also said he hadn’t been coming because he was hired by the same government agency that placed him in the UHP to be a sports doctor at some military games, essentially double booking this doctor.
I could not believe the attitude of this man, and how he literally detested being in that UHP. I have heard other stories that some of the doctors charge the clients for their medicines to make extra money even though the medicine is supposed to be free for the clients. I find it frustrating how there are programs being set up for the benefit of these communities, yet the effort and money that is put into programs yet the support within them tends to diminish over time. Where do these problems get solved then?