Horns

When we landed in India, despite all the preparation, I found some of my senses invaded in a way that is hard to understand and explain.

People said that as soon as you land you will notice the smell. We have not found that at all apart from wandering past the local shop grinding spices with flour and the aromas from occasional eateries along the roadside. Generally the smell has not challenged us.

The thing that has got to me most is the noise. I remember back to Gate 43 at Changi Airport, Singapore and the volume at which people spoke. Well, take that 200 voices and multiply them by 10 and you have the population of the schoolchildren outside our front door. Add to that the 70+ staff members and 20 ancillary staff plus the morning and afternoon sound of three very old 60 seater buses (that transport 110 children each) and two 40 seater buses (that transport at least 70 each), with horns blaring summonsing the children for their trip home.

Get the picture – it is not like the dead end street that I used to live in at home in Brisbane.

Despite all this noise, it is the school ground which we have found to be a paradise. You step through the school gate and you have a narrow road (4 metres wide bitumen sided by 3 metres of dirt (yes that famous Indian Mega-Dirt) on one side and 1 metre on the other side. This is better described as an 8 metre racetrack occupied by large trucks, buses, large cars, small cars, autos (the small 3 wheel taxis), motorbikes, push bikes, ox carts and pedestrians.

In peak hour (4:00 am to 10:00 pm) there are generally four lanes of traffic negotiating this road. They use the tidal flow system which is controlled by bus and car horns to determine which lane is travelling in which direction. So as you stand outside our front door all you can hear is 2,000 children’s laughter and shouting being outblasted by the horns of the traffic – an incredible experience which strangely enough you get used to.

Across this 8 metre wide super-highway is a little shop that sells veges (half of which we don’t recognise), fruit and all sorts of useful stuff. I stand at the edge of the dirt with the shop only 8 metres away, beckoning me to come and see its wares.

Normally a simple crossing, but in India the old Aussie look-both-ways (right then left then right again) just does not work because the cars closest can come from the left or the right depending on the path of least resistance and which vehicle has the loudest horn.

I have not mastered the one person crossing yet but Lynn and I have developed a technique of working together to be able to cross any thoroughfare with a reasonable amount of safety involved.

In the initial part of my ‘horn investigation’ there seems to be a hierarchy of horns that helps this process. Trucks and buses have loud, monstrously deep horns, cars have similar horns to home, motor bikes have high pitched squeals, autos have a variety but most have what appear to be cut off bugles with a rubber bulb attached that sound like the apparatus that clowns use, push bikes have maintained the time honoured standard of the bike bell, ox carts have an assortment of bells tied to the ox’s horns (so they ring all the time) and pedestrians have no tidal direction change device and so are defenceless except for their native cunning and agility.

So it does not take long to work out from the sound just what is about to run you over, and this done, you can make your life decision by the sound.

My sense of humour longs for the day when I discover the push bike that has been fitted with a truck horn so that it can change the tidal flow of traffic. Also, seeing that pedestrians are defenceless in this ordered mayhem we are tossing up the idea of a battery powered horn to assist us.

I don’t think either of these things will occur because as in all things Indian, there is an order that assists all and the community seems to stick to that.

PS

I have learned from this that it is better to tackle difficult situations with someone you trust.

DISCLAIMER

Lynn would again like to warn readers re the truth of the facts quoted in this story

DISCLAIMER REBUTTAL

Gary maintains that the above story is a factual recollection of his time so far in India.

Sign of the Week

We ventured out to a Restaurant the other night, a Chinese Restaurant. It was very nice and we were chatting about ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ and the scene where the boys were filling up water bottles with tap water and resealing them.

As we were laughing about whether we should buy bottled water or not, I glanced across the room and saw the following sign:

ALL DRINKING WATER IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT HAS BEEN PERSONALLY PASSED BY THE MANAGER

Lynn and I ordered a soft drink.

Broadband Internet Access

The trials of obtaining a broadband USB card for Internet access:

When we arrived in India, Paul Quigly, a fellow Australian had a card that he did not want anymore so we purchased it from him. It was based on time so it was not long before I had run out of time so I visited the shop to pay for more.

Enter the Indian Salesperson of the Year.

“This is not what you want”
“I have something better for you”
“You purchased the wrong thing for your needs”

This prompted me to ask him what my needs were. Not to be put off the slick sales pitch he continued:

“If you buy X minutes I will give you 120 extra minutes”
“If you buy 2X minutes I will give you 200 extra minutes”

I enquired innocently about the download limitations. This seemed to quieten him a bit and he started to reach for brochures and then crossing out all the figures on them and handwriting the deals he had just spoken to me about. The actual brochure was for unlimited downloads and time for a very reasonable price per month.

I asked could I have that deal for only five months as I would be leaving the country and did it mean that I could stay connected all day and night and download as much as I wanted. At this stage his English faltered and I could not get an answer I could trust. The extra complication was that I could not upgrade what I had to this new deal but had to get a new SIM card which requires verification of who you are and a permanent address in India.

We had this same problem when we purchased our phone a few weeks ago when one of the teachers had to come with us and purchase it in her name. We said thank you and said we would return with someone who could speak Tamil and had appropriate identity.

Next day we set off again with Becky (Our resident identity provider) to the store. All the facts were confirmed regarding cost, download limit, time limit and length of contract. Becky signs, we pay, great, now off home to get connected.

WRONG!!! We are informed that it will take 48 hours and they only record half the number on the SIM card then will personally visit our house to get the other half of the number, why I do not know. Wait patiently while daily visiting Internet Cafe, testing the USB daily. 48 hours comes and goes with nothing happening. The next day we go on our normal morning walk and when we return the doorbell rings. It is Becky, she has just been visited by the salesperson who wanted to obtain the second half of the number on the SIM card (that he gave us two days). He is going to ring back and if we can give him the second half of the number on the SIM card that he gave us (and already recorded on the contract) he will then activate the card.

We are still waiting for the return call. It is now 4 days since we departed with our money for the service.

Another day has passed and we have just been informed that the card is activated. Here we are back on line from our house and no daily trips to the Internet Cafe. Hallelujah!!!!!

If anyone has a plausible explanation for this I would love to hear it.

Time

If I had to make a statement about my relationship with time I would probably say that I am a slave to it. I guess this has a lot to do with my personality. I don’t like surprises or to be surprised so I always try to be on time (or a bit early).

The purpose of this is that generally others aren’t, so as they arrive I can meet people one by one rather than having to enter a meeting or room full of people.

I believe this is one way that Lynn and I complement each other. She can meet the crowd and enjoy it and I can then be introduced by her to others one by one.

I knew India was going to be a problem for me time-wise because I had been warned by my daughter who spent three months here a few years ago, plus doing our cross-cultural training, that generally the Indian sense of time does not correspond with anything I knew or liked.

This timing difference has been evident since our arrival. We get advised we will get picked up at a certain time but then it happens anytime. We have had occasions where it has been early (I was ready) and late (I was ready and frustrated).

I was told at 3:00 pm one day that the electrician would be here at 4:00 pm to fix a switch. Nothing much can go wrong here – only one hour. I took for me, a courageous decision not to hang around, when at 4:10 pm he had not arrived.

At 5:00 pm the next day the groundsman found me in the Hostel and informed me that the electrician was here. I chatted with him as we walked back to let the electrician in. He did not apologise for the lateness of 25 hours and I did not bother to ask.

The problem was fixed and everyone seemed happy. I wasn’t happy but I was decidedly less frustrated than I thought I would be.

We talked to a travel agent on Saturday about some options to see other parts of India during the May School holidays. No problem, he would get back to us shortly. He took my phone number and said he would call. Dropped in to his agency on Monday and he was not there and no-one had any details. We will visit again today (Tuesday) to see if he has done anything yet.

One of the challenges for me is to still try and be efficient in things I do (i.e. do not waste time) while allowing the world around me to function in its own understanding of time.

I have read a lot since arriving, probably more than in the last few years of my life (I am not an avid reader!!), so one of the gifts I have received here is that space and time to explore other things. Even though there is newness and challenge around me that is strange, I feel far more comfortable than at home.

Despite that vagueness of time here Church and school always start exactly on time.

PS

Is this the gift that Indian time is giving me? The knowledge and space to choose what I want rather than accept the impositions forced on me by the society that I come from.

Life at Jesse Moses

The parents in India would give anything for their children to have an education and the children take their education very seriously as do the educators. There is huge pressure on the Hostel girls to study.

The Hostel girls are chosen from applications of children from the poorest villages. They have to do an entrance exam and the ones who do the best get offered a place. All the girls are sponsored by the church. So they all want to be there and have done well, so are quite intelligent. They come in at the start of year 6 but only stay if their marks are at a set standard.

We have a partial routine with the girls during exam time. Every morning at 6:00 am and evening at 6:30 pm the girls gather for prayer. This is self directed by the girls and involves singing, Bible reading, message from the reading, more singing, then prayer for each other, their families, the school and staff and any other needs that arise.

It is a beautiful time that just happens with no fuss. The Coordinator of this is a young Year 9 girl called Pravilika. She organises the roster and makes sure that these times are truly what they are intended to be. There is remarkable respect given to girls who have been chosen to lead certain aspects of the Hostel life. During prayer, Pravilika has no trouble giving direction to older girls and even calling them to order.

Yesterday the Principal was telling us that some of the Year 10’s are not doing as well as they should and so might have to leave at year end (School here runs June – April).

During April new applicants are brought in for special coaching (especially English) then they are examined for selection for the new school year.

We are wondering if we can have a part in this. We have been helping the hostel girls with their English studies and Geography study of Australia. Though they speak English very well they still have problems understanding grammar and singular/plural nouns (of which Gary and I are experts!!!).

I am finding that 45 years away from direct and indirect nouns is testing me. It seems that they are speaking a different language (if you will excuse the pun) when they show me this stuff in their books. However they came back from their exams thanking us for our help and very excited that they had done well. However, their English teacher told us they usually do come back saying they did well and in actual fact, they haven’t. Fingers crossed!!

JOB OF THE WEEK - 2

We have visited a lot of schools and have been on the lookout for Australian Icons so naturally for schools we have been looking for the Indian equivalent of the “Lollipop Lady”.

For readers from other countries or states that do not know who the Lollipop Lady is she is the ever vigilant person who mans (womans/persons??) the pedestrian crossings outside schools before and after school. She is armed with a giant lollipop stick with 'STOP' written on it and boldly marches out in front of traffic to stop it and allow children safe passage across the road.

It was with great joy that as we were leaving a school last week, just as the kids were leaving, we spotted him. We have affectionately called him “Stick Man”.

In line with our comments on the ‘Mystery of the Lines’ we want you to let your imagination go wild and imagine the chaos at the front gate of a school in India and how inadequate the Lollipop Lady would be in this situation.

Enter Stick Man – an elderly Indian gentleman armed with a metre long piece of highly polished bamboo. As cars failed to stop or stopped in the wrong place, he gave the bonnet a sharp rap with his cane and the cars we saw soon moved on.

The scenes of chaos soon turned to order as Stick Man moved swiftly among the cars.

So goodbye Lollipop Lady and hello Stick Man.

DISCLAIMER
Lynn wishes to dispute some of the finer points that are written re Job of the Week but I can only report what I see.

Daily Frustration

As everyone knows, time in India passes slowly. We have read a lot and talked to the girls morning and evening but actually getting involved in the school life has not happened.

This is generally because it is exam time and so girls and staff are very focussed in ensuring that their time is maximised toward study, from our point of view, to the exclusion of everything else.

So we sit and wait. Today we will talk to the Hostel Warden re ways we could assist the girls with their study and hopefully that will open some more doors. The Warden generally will not do anything until the Principal has said it is OK but we believe that this OK has already been given.

The flip side to this is that it has only been a week, although it seems longer, and in that time we have made great progress getting to know the kids. We have individual photos of every girl plus group photos of each year level on our computer. Lynn has studied these hard and now knows most of the girls by name. Unfortunately I am struggling in this area but have a lot I know.

We pray that this afternoon will be another small step forward for us in our work here.

Lynn's sleep continues to be interrupted by mosquitoes. Despite screens, cream and a thing that plugs into the power to scare them away, they continue to attack her. I can lie blissfully on top of the bed without a shirt and not get bitten.