the saga continues

Jan 10, 2012:

Today I worked the most I’ve worked since I got here, though it came about in a rather unfortunate way.  Somewhere in the last couple of days, I’ve made a royal mess of things.

I’ve been frustrated, and stubborn, and as much as I would like to help, I keep getting given jobs that annoy me, or that I suppose I feel are ‘beneath’ me, or whatever.  And the things I like to do, I’m always under supervision, and therefore, I don’t do them right.  Well...I finally had enough.  On top of this, I haven’t felt well since I got here, I’m sweating to death in the heat of the day when the sun comes out, only to freeze at night, or on cloudy days (honestly, this morning felt like zero) ...the hot water rarely works, half the day there is no electricity, and I’m constantly having to ask what to do, what to do.  Needless to say, I’ve been a little testy lately, and I made a mistake last night.

Yesterday during the day was pretty neat, though slow and unproductive, like all my days here seem to be thus far, and I went for a ride in the countryside with Harpal as he returned a motor and a machine to a different place, about 50km away from the farm.  It was a nice drive, and the countryside of India is gorgeous.  Up here, it’s completely flat, but with luscious green fields on either side of the highway, growing all manner of things: wheat, mustard seed, rice – to name a few.  I even saw a couple of monkeys on the side of the road. 

Better than monkeys:  I SAW A CAMEL.  Actually, I saw three camels.  They were being used to pull a really huge, really heavy load of...I’m not sure what...down the side of the highway.  I burst into a peel of laughter as we drove by, and I think my expression must have been reflected in Harpal’s face somewhat, because he looked at me with almost child-like glee in his eyes.  A goddamned CAMEL.  They’re huge, too!  They came taller than the truck we were in, and definitely much larger than a horse.  Apparently, they are part of the giraffe family, and the giraffe is the only hooved animal bigger than a camel.  Crazy stuff. 

We dropped the motor and engine off in this little village, after a bit of a bumpy drive down India’s backroads in a vehicle that probably should have had its suspension replaced ten years ago.  And the stares I got when I got out of the truck!  I think this village has never seen a white person before.  By the time his business was concluded, there was approximately 20 people surrounding us, staring at me, and when we went inside this house to sign some paperwork and be given tea, a little gaggle of girls stood there staring at me and taking photos of me repeatedly on their camera phones. 

What gives?  You are worldly enough to own a phone with a camera, but not to have seen a white person?  Watch the news, damn it.  I KNOW India gets the BBC.  It made me really uncomfortable, but not as bad as when Surrinder and I went for a walk through the village here the other day.  THAT was bad. 

We went for a walk to see the sugar cane plant (which was really neat) and then through the village, and it was a really surreal experience.  For poor people living in mud huts (MUD HUTS!  The photographer in me wished to go wild, but I didn’t due to mortification) ...anyhow, they were really all dressed in bright colours, and oh, how they stared.  One woman in particular, looked me up and down like I was some kind of threatening animal, and I made a small, uncomfortable game out of staring her down until she looked away, only to repeat when she resumed staring.  The children, though – they were the worst.  There was about ten of them, on the roof of a building, and I couldn’t quite understand what they were screaming at me, but I definitely caught the word ‘gora’, which is Hindi for white person/foreigner, and it has a bit of a derogatory tinge to it.  Similar to ‘farang’ in Thailand, but here, I think the connotations are worse. 

We even had a little group of children running after me and shouting things at me.  I was thankful for the small relief the scarf on my head and my sunglasses gave.  It’s easier to be brave when people can’t see your eyes.  To be honest, it’s an experience I don’t really wish to relive, should the occasion arise again.  How stiff and ungraceful my motions were, it felt like I was walking under the scrutiny of several tiny, judging eyes, and it had caused a stick to be shoved into my spine with indignity. 

But that was a massive detour of the original story:  After we left the village, we drove back in a different direction towards Sirsa, and went to the market.  Harpal refused to let me buy any vegetables, and graciously offered to pay for them himself.  He even haggled the people for me, because he thought it would get us a better price.  Buying groceries may have been the highlight of the past few days – it was such a normal experience.  Buying fruit from a market is something I can DO. 

When we got back, there were some family members/guests over to visit, including a little boy who is eight years old today.  I was indignant, because I had been out all day, only to come home and have to peel garlic (I. Fucking. Hate. Peeling. Garlic.) ...and it put me in a bad mood.  I enjoyed spending time with the little kid, and we watched a Christmas cartoon on my laptop, and I let him play Angry Birds on my phone (which was a mistake, he will NOT leave me alone about it now) ...and his mother was trying to make small talk with me, but it came out really poorly, or maybe I didn’t receive it well, or...something, I don’t know.

She found out I’m in geology, and then started to lecture me on how there are only two rock types (there are three) and how coal is formed from trees falling down in a forest and then sand going on top of them, and how with the heat of the sun, that turns it into diamonds.  INTO DIAMONDS!  When I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t like that, she wouldn’t listen, saying she learned it in school and she was right because she has a “MBA in geography” ....a masters of business in geography?  ...anywhooo.  I was feeling really testy at this point, and I think at one point I said “LOOK, ma’am, I hate to break it to you, but you’re wrong.  Have you been wrong before?  Because you are now.” ...or something to that effect.  So she changed the subject to how rocks have metaphysical powers (I do actually believe this to some degree, but when spoken about by someone else, I turn into Ms. Skeptic Pants and I can’t shut it off) and then she started talking about how coral is a rock, and it’s used for “insert whatever she said here”...and then she grabbed my hand and read my palm and told me that my right hand says I’m fickle, and my left hand says I’m stubborn, and the way my cheeks are shaped means I’m always going to have economic crises because I spend too much money. 

I actually got mad at this point and got up and left, got my things ready for bed, and disappeared.  I was just so angry.  Who is this woman to walk up to me and say all these things, and be so bloody WRONG, and not accept that I’m right on some things? 

This morning, I woke up feeling really sick, and coughed a bunch of mucus out of my lungs (oh yay me) ...and my sinuses have been draining for two days, which means I’m almost certainly going to get bronchitis in the next week.  And I slept poorly, because the kid wanted to play with my phone at 6AM.  What.

So when I got up, I was a bit grumpy, and I ate some porridge that was handed to me, and it was only after I ate it that I thought to ask what it was – it was semolina flour and ghee, LOADS of ghee, and I got upset because I like to know when there is dairy in my food (so I can make the choice of being sick myself), and it caused an argument between me and Surrinder, and I basically stepped over a line. 

So she hasn’t spoken to me at all today, except to give me things to do, and I wasn’t even called in to eat lunch until everyone else had eaten, and I’ve done all sorts of things today, but so far as I can tell, they are all things that only the servants do here.  I think I really messed up somewhere.

I apologized profusely, and while she was out today, I did everything that was asked of me, and I even took the initiative and cleaned out their cob oven and part of the kitchen, without being told, and it took me two hours to do it was so dirty, and now I’m filthy, and when she came back, and I said I had a surprise for her, I showed her the oven, and all she said to me was to complain about how dirty the surrounding area is.  What  good is a clean oven if she doesn’t want to be in that part of the courtyard because it’s so dirty?  ...I was crushed. 

So anyhow, I messed up something fierce, and now I’m trying so badly to backpeddle to make amends.  When I apologized to her this morning, she told me it ‘didn’t matter, because I’d be leaving soon’.  I even apologized to the woman who I was arguing with last night, and she said it was fine, and she wasn’t offended, because it’s written in the stars that it’s my nature and because she realizes that I’m not mature enough to accept what was being told to me, and that I’m too stubborn.  I just stood there and accepted everything she said, because I didn’t know what to say, and I’m glad I had glasses on, because my eyes started to well up with tears.  I felt so bad, and that’s how my apology was accepted.  I’m apparently a person with hard thoughts, but soft actions: I am stubborn and have firm beliefs, but I can’t stand up to them in an argument.  It might be true, which might have been why it hurt so much more, but I prefer the approach of being completely apathetic.  If I can’t care, it can’t hurt.  It’s an easy philosophy, and one that gets me by pretty well in life. 

Tonight, (bear with me) we went to the cinema for some food.  We never actually went and saw a film, but there was a restaurant there, and an arcade, and it was for Dehraj’s eighth birthday, and it amused me to see a little Indian boy acting like a regular little boy with irritations and joys and a love of cake (even if it was eggless cake, because everyone here is pure-veg).  There are two diets here: pure-veg, and non-veg.  Pure-veg means no meat products, but dairy is okay.  So no meat, no eggs, basically.  It works well for me in all aspects except I like eggs, and I can’t have dairy.  I wish it was no meat, no dairy.  Then folks, I’d be in dietary heaven.  Unfortunately, this is not the case. 

I was having a really hard time for a while.  On and off all day, actually.  We got to the cinema, and I don’t know why, but it was empty, and the few people who worked there were staring at me, because I imagine goras don’t walk into the cinema at Sirsa very often, and I thought I was going to break down and cry.  I excused myself and hid in the bathroom for a little bit until I could handle the world again. 

I tried something pretty tasty; it’s this type of Indian fast food called pani puri, and it was these little ‘puri’, which are puffy hollow shells, kinda crunchy like chips, and you spoon a potato mixture into them, and then fill them full of ‘pani’ – which means water – but it’s sweet water and spicy water, and then you throw the whole thing into your mouth.  It was absolutely delicious.  I tried one of Harpal’s, at first, because I didn’t know if I’d like them, but I squealed in delight when I tried one, and I loved them, so he ordered me my own dish of them.  We ate many different dishes, and unfortunately, way too many of them had mushrooms in them (mushrooms, gross) but I ate the curries anyhow, because it was that, or dairy. 

By the way, eggless cake is kinda gross.  Seriously the most anticlimactic chocolate cake I’ve ever tried. 

Anyhow, we had a massive dinner, and I think there were ten of us in total, and Harpal’s older brother made an appearance, and we sung the most unorganized “Happy Birthday” song I’ve ever heard.  Harpal’s brother is also a farmer, and I really took to him right away.  He apparently has his Canadian citizenship, and used to live in Yellowknife, and used to work at the old mine there in the 60s. 

I’m beginning to realize that this questioning/cutting people off in the middle of their sentences is just the Indian way, and I regret the harsh things I said about the family in the previous post.  I was frustrated and I let my emotions get the better of me.  I’m here, trying to induct myself into a different culture, but without actually giving the other culture any leeway.  I’m no better than the Indians who move to Canada and expect their culture to stay the same.  I made a mistake. 

I guess I really just wanted to clear that up.  These aren’t bad people – they’re just different people.  It’s the way that they are.  Housewives worry about how their husbands will like the food they cook, and so I have to prep it just so; farmers are interested in their crops and the world, but they have strong opinions on both.  And for the record: that tap water thing wasn’t malicious – they can drink their own water here.  It’s just me who cannot.  I’ve taken to boiling it and then drinking from my filter just to be safe, but my stomach still isn’t great, even with homeopathic meds and immodium. 

I really relish the idea of heading back home to Canada and eating a proper meal, that doesn’t cause me stomach pain, or bloating, or any multitude of unhappy internal things that’s accompanied me this entire trip so far.  But yeah, I’m really ready to come home.  So ready.  Too much ready, to coin the Indian mistranslation.