As I lifted a miniature red rose to my nose to inhale the intoxicating scent of its beauty, I looked out in front of me and scanned the scene-A few hundred eyes of rural Indian secondary school students stared back at me.  They were sitting in rows on the dirt ground, [More...]]]> December 16, 2010

As I lifted a miniature red rose to my nose to inhale the intoxicating scent of its beauty, I looked out in front of me and scanned the scene-A few hundred eyes of rural Indian secondary school students stared back at me.  They were sitting in rows on the dirt ground, perfectly placed by their “standard” (like grade..8th grade..9th grade..), and neatly dressed in their required uniforms. The boys in brown shorts, the girls with their hair braided into two looped pigtails tied with red ribbon. Someone was giving a speech introducing us and emphasizing the importance of intercultural relations. I looked beyond them and noticed families of migrant workers walking down the road. Their destination: their makeshift tents.  Just before this we had visited them working on the land of a local farmer.  These people travel as nomads, across the countryside, looking for work that usually  lasts ten days at a time in fields. Not enough time to put their children in local schools, so the children wander..uneducated.. curious eyes wondering about the new people they see.. no idea who we are or where we would even come from.

So as I sat there and saw the future of the village of Kalamb, state of Maharashtra, country of India, sitting neatly in front of me, I also saw the gap, the lost, the forgotten, walking behind them, returning from a hard mornings work digging fields of previously un-farmable land (land no villager would want to put labor into), their curious eyes scanning the school presentation, wondering who these “white people” were, no idea of who we were or where we came from, wondering how their lives could be different- in search of a sense of community that reaches beyond their makeshift tent..

And I smell the gift of the rose; a symbol of love, rebirth, renewal, life, light, sacrifice, balance, promise, new beginnings, hope, joy, purity, and healing.

I wonder if the migrants feel the same when they smell the roses.

In comparison to my trip exactly one year ago, I find it difficult to see the differences between our cultures beyond the obvious. Yes, the superficial things I notice are the same as I encountered last year, like eating with your right hand (not using utensils), using squat toilets, bobbling your head side to side to give an affirmative answer or agreement, controlled chaos of a traffic system you will never see in the United States, cows (and goats, sheep, dogs, kittens, camels…) roaming the streets as if they belong there, taking off shoes before you enter a home, tea breaks every other hour, bangles galore, bindis (red dots) on the forehead, $2 pashmina scarves…the list goes on..

But looking at the deeper level I feel at home.. surrounded by people that just want to be happy, succeed in whatever they are doing, and believe family is the most important aspect of their lives.  Life is just as simple as that, and back in my real “home” surroundings, people often forget, and sometimes it takes a tragic loss to snap back into the reality of what really matters.

I love it here. But I am tired.  There is so much to do, so much to see, I honestly don’t know how these people go day to day without taking a break. Maybe that is why the lifespan is shorter, or, maybe that is why they drink so much tea.

This past week and a half has been extraordinary. I left Minneapolis to meet my good friend Stacy in Chicago. We boarded an Etihad flight that fifteen hours (and four movies, multiple naps, four meals, creating a “wish-list” from the Sky Mall magazine, and many sudoku puzzles)or so later got us to the other side of the world.

We jumped into a taxi in Mumbai, and traveled four hours to Pune. Getting here a few days early before our program started gave us a chance to sleep a bit, and explore the old stomping ground from last year. We visited the Osho Ashram in Koregon Park (without going into too much detail…I’ll let you google that one on your own if you REALLY want to know more… lets just say it is a meditation center, that has “other” focuses as well as meditation….) stumbled upon a nineteenth century Jewish Cemetery that was almost completely overgrown with moss, vines and plants.. wandered down streets just exploring, found an “agent” that drove us around on motorcycles looking for apartments (Stacy is staying here until March to do an internship with WOTR), shopped a little on the well-known roads called Laxmi and MG (short for Gandhi) and finally somehow loaded all of our luggage into a tiny rickshaw and set off for the hotel that our class was to meet at. At the same time, a bomb went off in a touristy place in Varanassi, up north (where the famous Ganges River is).. We are put on high alert in Pune, but luckily none of the DePaul students were traveling up there at the time (which they very well could have been).

The next day and a half we spent there, having meetings with various INGO’s (International Non-Governmental Organizations, like non-profits) to discuss how they best manage their organizations. The purpose of our class is to learn about the management of INGO’s. We were scheduled to work closely with WOTR (Watershed Organization Trust  www.wotr.org). This is the same organization I visited last year, so I wont go into much detail about them, since many of you already know. All you need to know, is it was founded by the Germans here in Pune, a drought prone area of India. They work with rural farming villages to help rebuild their watersheds so the farmers have 1. water all year round, 2. food all year, 3. no migration to the cities in search of work during the dry months, 5. women’s empowerment through self-help groups and much more.  The communities are required to all participate, even if someone is not a land owner, there is no felling of trees during the process of rebuilding, and no free grazing of their cattle.
After our sessions in Pune, we jumped on the WOTR bus and headed to Darewadi, which is a model village of WOTR. They have a training center that groups such as ours can stay and learn. From there, we broke into small groups and headed to our assigned villages, some hours away across the countryside.

My village this year was called Kalamb. I went with three other female students from my class, one of whom is my good friend Stacy.  Our WOTR translator was the same friend I had last year, Ajay, so reconnecting with him was incredible.  Kalamb is a village of a thousand or more that originally started their watershed project ten years ago, they never finished because they ran into problems of people not complying with the free grazing, felling of trees and volunteered unpaid labor.  However after time passed, they realized they made a major mistake, and agreed to try again. So in 2009 they started the project back up.

As we made our way to Kalamb, we were fortunate enough to drive through my village from last year, Wankute.  Wankute was just awarded a special prize due to their hard work and dedication to their project.  I stopped to see Rohini, the woman who cooked all of our meals, and sat with her while she looked through 500 pictures I brought to give the village.

We proceeded on, and noticed a commotion in the road. We wondered what was going on…a wedding? a funeral procession? ….we slowed down, and realized it was hundreds of villagers waiting for us….a welcoming procession.
We jumped out of the jeep, and were immediately put up on an oxcart, pulled by two beautiful bullocks.  We traveled a few kilometers to town, on top of the cart….with hundreds of people in front of us, school children dancing, boys playing drums, someone playing a synthesizer (carried by two other boys….) with two old-time record player phones (speakers) hooked to it.., looking behind us, a sea of sari’s following closely…

Arriving into town even more people greeted us.. we sat at the front of the crowd, and were given roses, coconuts, bindi’s placed in between our eyes. The school girls and boys performed separate welcoming dances and songs.  I gave a short speech thanking them, and explaining who we were and why we were there… (fortunately I remembered how to say just a few things spoken in Marhati, like “My name is Eli”…which they found hilarious).

In Sanskrit (which is not used in this village…) Athiti deo bhavh means “Guest is God”… and this is how the villagers treat anyone that comes to visit them.  We were the first outsiders to stay with them, and they were NOT going to let us leave without a true village experience.

In addition to our WOTR translator Ajay, we were fortunate to have someone especially dear to my heart from last year join us. Bhau, a village farmer from Wankute (last years village) was working with Kalamb as a consultant to help with their project. Bhau was our angel last year, always with us…wherever we went.. we felt him protecting us. He did the same this year.. And although I could not always communicate with him due to language restraints, it was fun pantomiming  and just bobbling my head yes to anything he said to me because i was mesmerized.

We slept in the office of the village. a small building with three rooms. We had four cots that basically were like sleeping on metal. No padding.. our mosquito nets kept us “safe” (but what does that even mean.. it was very chilly at night… which mosquitoes were absent and not a threat..maybe from small lizards?).. but I must admit, sleep was nonexistent while staying in Kalamb.  The first night there were trucks driving around all night.. one truck pulled up outside and played music for fifteen minutes. The 2nd night the village temple, next door, had some ongoing ceremony that resulted in a man screaming into a megaphone until 2am…and then it switched to constant music until we “woke up.” We discovered the next morning that it wasnt anyone in particular actually playing the music, but a cassette tape looping. The third night, we slept with the lights on because we got locked in and the light switch was outside.  And speaking of light switches, apparently the switch to the local temple was also the switch to our squat toilet room.  We found that out the first night, when someone politely knocked on the door and asked us to switch it back on.

Each morning we were awoken by hoards of trucks and motorcycles pulling up to what was a milk collection co-op.  Our village had a strong focus on collecting 500-700 liters of milk each day to be sold.  They had a great system going, and it was interesting learning about how the milk is collected, weighed, and sold.  Many farmers in Kalamb owned one or two cows, producing about 35 liters a day (per cow) and each liter was worth about 15 rupees (Indian money, 1 dollar equals 45 rupees).

We took bucket baths of boiling steamy water each morning, and headed to (one of three) a families house to eat breakfast. We had several meetings with different self-help groups, and men’s council groups. We met with the local health clinic, and ate lunch and dinner at different houses.  We learned how to make chipati (a traditional tortilla type food that is eaten at all meals), how to brew tea, how to milk a cow (and drank fresh hot milk), we got mendi done on our hands (henna…a tatoo type design that stays on for a few weeks) by a dozen school girls sitting on the floor of our room late one night (to which we had to sleep with our hands not touching anything all night while it dried=note to self do it in the morning next time)

On Sunday we jumped in the jeep and took a few hour trip over to see Stacy’s tribal village, Purashwadi, from last year. It was great to see yet another watershed village and see where she and my other friends spent their time.  We stopped at a local market on the way home to see villages coming together to see their goods… everything from spices, to dried fish, to fruits, to sari’s, to farming equipment, and more..

At one point we had a tour of their watershed, seeing where it started up on a mountain (where they start the terracing of the land to help slow down the flow of water during the monsoons). Looking down across the whole valley, you could see thousands of green flourishing trees, a sight missing just a few decades ago.

We went to farmland that was considered wasteland, and this farmer had hired migrants to work on tearing up the rocks to create plowable fields.  They were hired for ten days, and were making great progress.  The children, just sitting there watching..or running around playing. while their parents, working together side by side, working harder than many of us have ever done in a day.

Meeting with the women’s group was especially interesting because we were able to have an open discussion on topics comparing our cultures.. we brought pictures to show them, ranging from an American wedding (to which my classmate Sarah pantomimed throwing a bouquet of flowers… I’m sure Ajay our translator hated us after this meeting), to discussing how sometimes men in American stay home to be the “housewife” while the woman leaves the house to work everyday.  I showed them aerial pictures of my moms house in Michigan (that I had taken while flying with Jerry Freed this fall), and the high rise building of Chicago. I showed them a chicken coop in the backyard of my friend’s house in Minnesota, and the amazing photo taken by Al Fortino of my dad delivering Nick in the early 80s.

On Monday, we visited the schools. First the primary school visit, to which we showed a globe to the schoolkids lined up on the ground watching us intently.  They enjoyed hearing how long it took for us to travel to get to their village, they also liked telling us what they want to be when they grow up.

Next, we went to the secondary school. The beginning of this story, you read at the top of this email.. the rest follows:
After the speeches given, and roses and coconuts filled our hands, we stepped off the stage and sat down to watch a performance by the girls.  There were two dances performed,both unique in their manner, describing Indian history and integration with the western world. At the end of the dance, Stacy and Megan jumped up on stage with two of the school girls, and continued the whole dance routine performed earlier.. The sight of the four girls was incredible, joining the two cultures together, sharing a moment, the whole village watching.I have video of this, and think that it may have been one of the highlights.

The last night, the latest news of the village was that a leopard killed a dog.

Our last morning with the village, we visited a temple and the caretaker of the temple got down on his knees and kissed my feet inside of the temple. An intimate moment that will never be forgotten.

We had our last breakfast, packed up the jeep, and about 300 of the villagers came to the small town square in front of where we stayed to send us off. We gave speeches, and speeches from villagers were made recognizing the importance of having relationships and experiences as ours. We were given dozens of flowers and roses…more coconuts, and sari’s.  After shaking the hands of everyone and saying thank you.. we were escorted into a house and a dozen women worked together to put our saris on.  We emerged as Indian women.. bindi’s on our foreheads, saris flowing in the sun..
goodbye… don’t forget us.

And we left. As we departed we heard many “please come again’s.”  Driving back to Darewadi to meet our classmates, we stopped back one last time in Wankute to visit Bhau’s house, had tea with his wife and sons.. Megan asked him if his sons want to marry any of us, and he turned and pointed at me. However when we were leaving, his son asked if Megan really wanted to get married, how was he supposed to bring her bottled water everyday?

Now I am back again in Pune, ready to start my last leg of the trip. I’ve already had an interesting day, but that will come in my last email. I leave for Mumbai tomorrow where more exploring will take place until next week.

As I close this, I am reminded of the scent of a rose yet again. One of the school kids stood up in front of the crowd and asked me who my role model was. I did not have to think twice.  I told him that Gandhi said “be the change you wish to see in the world.” and i believe that this motto is the most important way I try to live my life.  I have this above the door in my apartment at home in Minnesota, so I see it every single time I leave the house, constantly being reminded, that if I wish to smell the roses everyday, I need to love my neighbor, respect my elders, community and the mother earth. I need to set an example for others to follow, so I too, can have an impact and help those who do not understand the importance of finding peace in what they do and who they are.

Namaste.

eli

To provide committed development support that motivates, energizes and empowers individuals, groups, [More...]]]> We left for the village of Kalamb full of questions and excitement.   For the last few days we had learned about the NGO, Watershed Organization Trust (WOTR) and their participatory approach to creating eco-systems that respond to villagers’ needs. Their mission states:

To provide committed development support that motivates, energizes and empowers individuals, groups, communities and other organizations and to undertake integrated ecosystems development for enhancement of well being on a sustainable basis.

This speaks to the organization’s commitment to building partnerships and ownership in every community they work.  After learning about their technique and successes we were ready meet those villagers that have committed to improving their livelihood and their children’s future.

We were not prepared for what awaited us; as we neared Kalamb there was a halt in the road.  We exited our Jeep to discover that nearly the whole village had come to greet us with the most fantastic welcome one can imagine.  The four of use were hoisted atop a cart pulled by two fully decorated bullocks.  Ahead of us hundreds of villagers being lead by the a boy’s band, a girl’s dancing group, and their fathers wearing farmer’s garb, a full white outfit with matching cap.  Behind us a sea of saris and smiles from the village women greeting us with shy waves.  This two-kilometer parade into town was only the beginning on the pride, knowledge, and respect we gained from the village of Kalamb over the next four days.

The welcome ceremony continued with speeches, performances and gifts. Mutual curiosity about each other’s life captivated each moment as we all came to acknowledge our similarities and differences.  After settling in to our new home, the village’s gram panchayat (local governance) building, we meet our host family.  The instant warmth that we felt from Mohan and Indiebai Landge set the tone for experience.  It was instantly apparent that these parents (who had both only studied until the 4^th grade) were beaming in pride over their home and children.

The Landges have three sons; one is currently working in Mumbai and the younger two are pursuing their studies at the local secondary school.  They quickly became known as “the doctor” and “the solider”, as these were their future careers.   The dreams and dedication seen in these boys was both humbling and inspiring.  In one generation the Landges have been able to put a focus on studies that the parents had not enjoyed.

Each meal with the Landges became more and more delicious.  Maybe it was an adjustment to the spice but I believe that it was because as our time in the village passed the hard work and passion that goes into each meal became apparent.  All of the food was grown within the village, plowed by bullock carts, ground by hand and prepared by Indieabai, her sisters-in-law and nieces over a kerosene stove.  Mealtime was always a highlight, for food is so often a favorite topic of discussion; especially our cooking skills, often the lack thereof, which was displayed during a chapatti-cooking lesson.

During the first day we were able to tour Kalamb and its work with WOTR on the watershed.  In order for WOTR to enter a village the entire community must follow three rules: No felling of trees, no free grazing and shramadan.  Shramadan is a form of free labor that all villagers must participate in; this is physical labor done on the land.  By involving the entire community in this process their ownership and commitment to the project is ensured.

In areas where the bunds and terraces were already in place land that was previously “unfarmable” was flourishing with winter crops.  By opening up this new land and improving the water supply farmers are now able to grow multiple crops a year.   The benefit is seen across the village from the landowner to the landless that are employed as daily laborers in the field.   The increase in work also means that those in the villages no longer need migrate to other villages or to the city to find work.

We visited other plots that were in the beginning stages of the watershed process.  Villagers and migrants were doing the hard job of digging trenches.  A local who had been trained by WOTR through workshops and exposure to other projects managed the work.   The continuous commitment from the entire village is crucial to the success of the watershed project.  The support system that WOTR provides gives the community the knowledge and expertise to successfully work through the project.

Over our time in Kalamb we were able to meet with many of the local SHGs.  These are government sponsored self-help groups for women.  Their focus is micro finance and insurance but they also serve to create an outlet for the women to form a community among their own needs and desires.  In these meetings we discussed daily life, wedding traditions, children, hopes and fears.  While our lives may be playing out worlds apart it was moving to find many similarities in the way we view our lives.

A highlight was the sharing of photos that we had brought from the US.   I had included highlights from weddings, holiday, family and trips.   When sitting in a village in rural India and discussing your own traditions you find a new sense of your own culture.  It is often difficult to describe American culture but in sharing these photos and discussing the reasons behind the rituals (example: bridal bouquet toss) the women were able to relate to our culture and us.

We knew one woman from the SHG GROUP meetings as “Tai” or elder sister.  Her friendly smile and hand holding was ever present and she was a great guide into a women’s life in Kalamb.  One evening she arranged for the young girls of the village to come to our room for a Mendi party.  We had fifteen fifteen year olds and Tai in our room as we snacked on candy and decorated our hands and feet.  This informal gathering was a cherished memory for all involved.  Spending the night sleeping with our hands out of the covers so the mendi could dry will not be forgotten either.

One memorable visit from our busy schedule was that with the Village Development Committee or VDC.   In this meeting we heard about Kalamb’s forward thinking attitude towards development.  We learned that in the sixties the villages had built a road leading to the village in an effort to increase access and learning from the world outside.  This attitude has allowed the community to experience growth in new and innovative ways.

With the last two decades Kalamb has built and maintained their village with the development of a dairy.  While the symbol of the “holy cow” is synonymous with India in Kalamb’s case the cow is truly the lifeline of the village.  Many farmers own a single cow or a pair that are milked daily.  Milk which is not used for household consumption is brought into the village square measured and tested for quality by the dairy staff early each morning.  Careful records are kept and the farmer is paid fortnightly for his inputs.

From the dairy the milk is sold to those in the village without cows and packaged for sale in nearby markets.  The income effectively subsidizes the farmer’s main income, as it takes little time and uses the resources they already have.  It also creates a local market for the milk and milk product for those in need within Kalamb.  The diary in Kalamb is thriving, even opening a second outpost.  In the VDC meeting the pride of the members echoed the hard work that they put in to the project.

Interacting with children is always a highlight of immersion, their honesty and innocence provides a different perspective into their life and culture.  In Kalamb we visited a primary and secondary school.  In each the children were in uniforms and very well behaved.  Their reaction to our stories of Chicago and its’ brutal winters sparked a lot of interest.  We brought a blow-up globe to play with, and for many this was the first time they had seen a map of the world.

In the secondary school (grades 6 to 10) we were treated to multiple performances.  Although there were speeches, blessings, and songs by far the most entertaining was a dance performance where myself and fellow American, Megan, were brought on stage.  While the two young ladies had rehearsed the routine, we were rather clueless.  As we started to understand the rhythms and gestures cheers were heard from the audience and beyond.  This simple act was a great representation of our stay in the village.   Megan and I had much to learn from the children and through the experience of being thrown on stage we were able to learn, join in and also to entertain.  The mutual benefit felt form this short dance is symbolic of our entire stay in Kalamb.

Throughout the stay, and especially in the schools we encouraged the children to quiz us with any questions they had.   The questions often turned into discussions on their future dreams.   It was heartwarming to hear the children talk about their aspirations, as many of them were very creative and unique in their responses.  The prosperity that Kalamb has experienced through the dairy and its work with WOTR on its watershed is allowing this kind of future for its children.

When it was time to say goodbye to Kalamb no one was ready.  In our short time it was as if two cultures had merged, not into something new or different but into a place of understanding and admiration.  The people of Kalamb are hardworking, heartwarming, and ever so generous.  After our visit, their perspective of Americans is now reflected in their time with us rather then rumors and Hollywood.  The exposure and dialogue that these types of programs create breeds understanding in turn creating opportunities.   I hope my path brings me back to Kalamb.

“India was a life-changing experience for me. This program not only provided an education on Watershed Management, it actually shows you how local villages benefit from its implementation. Interacting with the local women in Kohane Village was the highlight of the trip for me.”

- Jennifer H. 2009,  DePaul University

Read more testimonials about [More...]]]>

“India was a life-changing experience for me. This program not only provided an education on Watershed Management, it actually shows you how local villages benefit from its implementation. Interacting with the local women in Kohane Village was the highlight of the trip for me.”

- Jennifer H. 2009,  DePaul University

Read more testimonials about our India Program in our Testimonials section.

WOTR executive director, Dr Marcella D’Souza accepts the Kyoto World Water Grand Prize at the 2009 5th Triennial World Water Forum in Istanbul, Turkey. AFOW’s unique partnership with WOTR gives our students access to some of the world’s most respected and leading development professionals.

Program participants learn about organic farming techniques as practiced at WOTR’s on-site training facility in Darewadi, India.

WOTR’s Executive Director, Dr. Marcella D’Souza (far left) and Co-Founder, Mr. Crispin Lobo (right of Dr. D’Souza) answer students questions during a debriefing session Pune, India.