Slices of Life
A day is full of so many quick little glimpses of ordinary, and yet different, life. Here are just a few......


Milk is delivered here. I'm told you can also buy it in the store. But here's what I've seen: milk is delivered. The man on his cycle rings a bell to signal his approach. when he stops he measures the purchase by the cup into the housewife's container. The milk is fresh from the cow.

Another drink is sugar cane juice. It's squeezed from the cane by presses and smiling men. No, I haven't tried a glass. It sounds so sweet by the glass. However I have chewed the juice from the cane and have enjoyed it. Maybe it's the presses that concern me.

This neighborhood father spotted me with my camera on the balcony one morning. He signalled I should snap a photo before they pedalled off to school. I'm sorry about the wire through his face. (Guess I don't see those wires anymore!) Can you see the large book bag on his son's back? The son rode behind his father on the bike. The daughter rode sidesaddle in front.

Here's an auto rickshaw full of primary-aged students headed to school. It's 8:30am. Their books are on top of the vehicle and their lunch baskets hang on hooks down the side.

This rooftop garden is visible from the balcony outside the kitchen. One of YRTV's young teachers wears a fresh rosebud in her hair often. She tells me they grow roses....perhaps in a garden like this. Viji will be moving to her husband's home place over summer vacation. One of the bonuses she' looking forward to is a terrace on which she can grow flowers.

I asked the kitchen staff, one was Hindu, what these faces are. They are on many houses and businesses. I was told they are decorations, a Hindu decoration. Only? Yes. I said I'd heard they were to frighten away evil/bad. They laughed, but were frustrated with their inability to translate the Tamil term. Later one came to me with his mobile and a text message: It means buffoon. That's what they are, he said. Viji calls them scarecrows.

I'm trying to limit my picture-taking. But it's difficult. There are so many of these slices of life.

Something else to think about.....we think it's been 100 plus this past week. Summer begins in a month!

Have I Mentioned?
When I first arrived at this building where I've been living I looked from the balcony and saw these wires. They were difficult to miss. But then I saw the tidy homes, the daily activities and the smiling people. From then on I looked through the wires and now have almost forgotten they are there.

And then there are the dumps. They are everywhere. Every morning the areas around the front doors are swept and tidied up. Then the trash is taken to the dump...which is across the street or a short distance down the road. In some places I've seen the trash piled up in small masses and burned, but mainly it lies along the road. I've never seen a garbage truck.

However I have seen men clean the trash from these ditches with a hoe type tool. They lift the reeking filth onto the side of the road. By the next day it is gone...taken to a dump, I assume, since I once saw a man unloading a pushcart at a roadside dump. The ditches can begin to stink after the sewage and trash sits in them in the sun for days.

Once in awhile I'm hit with the smell of baked urine. Urinating males are not uncommon so I'm not surprised by the smell. I pedalled past a school just letting out. Little boys were lined up along the ditch, backs to the road, relieving themselves. I've learned to look the other way when a man is standing with his back to the road. No need to see what he is doing.

There are bars across the windows I gaze from. I look out these windows and past the bars while I'm eating breakfast. Twice now I've seen a peacock on the neighbor's roof. Peacocks, the national bird, are wild here.

Through those windows I've noticed the air over Sivakasi is a bit hazy. The granite quarry on the right in the back is difficult to see most mornings. The locals complain of the chemicals used by the matches, fire crackers and fireworks industries. Plain dust is also in the air. Dirt side roads are common. There is little grass. It's dry. Dust is common.

Sivakasi is known as "little Japan" because of its industry and the industrious nature of the people. Unemployment is rare. Businesses are continually looking for workers. 100,000 people live in Sivakasi.... 200,000 work here. So, I'm told there are no beggars. I haven't seen many. Only a handful. They're in the town center, near the churches and temples.

Animals are everywhere. They wonder the streets and the dumps. Dogs are common, cats less so. Cows no longer are a surprise. Neither are goats. And there's a wild looking black pig/boar that appears to be harmless. Chickens and roosters abound. There are some that roost in the tree at the corner of the balcony....near that electric pole.

I may not have mentioned these things before. They do quickly become a part of life here and so fade into the background of all that vies for one's attention.

**And this also......

Slumdog Millionaire took the Oscars. There was clapping and boasting at school today. None of the teachers have seen the film. Two of about 35 in a class of 8th graders had seen it. It has not made the theater here. Several months back The Hindu, the daily English newspaper, discouraged viewing it. There have been some letters to the paper criticizing the view the movie gives of India. But today the teachers were saying the slums in the big cities are real. Slums are a part of India. There have been letters to the paper to that effect also. Today the paper and people were proud of the awards Slumdog Millionaire won. The composer A.R. Rahman is a local boy... he's from Tamil Nadu.

Treatment

I suffered from a mild case of conjunctivitis. Dass, on the right, took me to an eye doctor, Dr. B ------ (it's written in Tamil on his card) MBBS, MSDO, 2-D-1, PSR. We left our shoes at the door, walked past the optician and to the counter in the back where we signed in. Five minutes later we were ushered into the consulting rooms.












We passed the doctor with patients in the first room. In the second room the nurses interviewed me and then one asked me to read the eye chart. I looked at the Tamil chart and laughed, Oh, no! You're going to think I'm blind. She directed my attention to the E chart and after allowing my glasses said I had perfect vision - 6/6.












The doctor looked at my eyes through a scope and agreed I had conjunctivitis. One week to heal. He prescribed 2 types of pills, an ointment and some drops. The prescriptions were filled at the counter. The total bill for the meds and consultation was Rs 220/$5.

What I had was easier than why I had it. Dass thought perhaps the sun caused the problem. I don't oil my hair like the Indians do. When you oil your hair, the oil reflects the sun. But on second thought he decided my gray hair probably reflects the sun better than their dark hair. Viji said conjunctivitis is called Madras eye and people in Chennai (formerly Madras) get very bad cases after the monsoons. I landed in Chennai but long after the monsoons were over and was there for only 6 hours. I myself am attempting to keep my hands away from my eyes, especially after shaking hands with people on the street.

After 3 days I was ready for cosmetic surgery, or at least to stop the meds. My eyelids were inflamed and my face puffy. But, I went back to the doctor as he had requested....maybe it was their gentle manner. He assured me I wasn't allergic to the meds. The irritation was the infection, and it would be healed in 2 weeks. Hmm? I was to add another pill and another drop to my meds regime. Rs 70/$1.75. I took pictures. He told me he had just been to visit his son who lives in America.

A week later my left eye was healed but my right one was still irritated. So, I returned for the second follow-up exam. This time after the doctor studied my eyes through the scope, they cleared a bench of waiting patients and had me lay down. This next inspection included a quick assortment of drops and ointments and made my eye hurt and weepy for a short while. The doctor prescribed more drops, more ointment and a different pill. I was told to return only if needed - there has been no need. Rs 125/$3.

This picture of the doctor doesn't show how he multitasks. Each time I visited him there were at least 3 other patients at his desk: one in the front, one to his right and one to his left at the scope. He'd ask a general question of the patient at the front of the desk, consult with the patient to his right and then turn to the one at the scope. After he examined my eyes through the scope, he'd wash his hands and then write notes on my case and the prescription. As I left he would be turned to another patient.









I never needed an appointment...no one does. I never waited long...no one does. The doctor and nurses had a gentle touch. The prescriptions were filled at the counter. Three visits and all those meds totalled Rs 415/$10. I put on my shoes still outside the door when I left.

What to Wear?
This couple, standing at the entrance to their building materials business, is dressed in typical Sivakasi wear. She is wearing a sari and he is in a shirt and dhoti.





This man, who was reading the morning paper, is wearing a shirt and lungi. He can shorten his lungi to a dhoti by folding or pulling it up, perhaps between his legs, and tying it.




While the dhoti and lungi are common, I'd guess half the male Sivakasians dress like Annaraj in trousers and a shirt. Sometimes the shirt is tucked in and sometimes not. Many wear sandals, but shoes and socks are also common.





Women wear saris and sandals. I've worn my sari twice and was amazed at the compliments I received. Even people I didn't know stop me. Students told me I was beautiful. I am smiled at often here, but when I've worn my sari the smiles are over the top.





A sari is a complicated outfit. It has 3 pieces: the top, the petticoat and the 5-6 meters of fabric. And we must not forget the 2-3 safety pins. There's a real art to draping the sari fabric. I still don't have it down. Viji told me the first time to just wrap myself in the cloth, get myself to school and they would take over. I really have tried to fix it right, but both times I've worn it even I knew I needed help. The Tamil teacher standing with me in the previous photo is the one who fixes me up. She also has given me a bindi (forehead mark) and loaned me a necklace because the outfit is incomplete without one. Many women also wear flowers in their hair, expensive earrings (mine are "cute") and toe rings. This is what married women wear.


Viji showed me her wardrobe. She has 50-60 saris. And a pair of trousers she never wears. I'm betting her cousin in New Jersey sent them to her. According to Viji, Sivakasi husbands want their wives to wear saris. And the wives want to wear them. Her husband buys most of her saris. In fact he buys the clothes for her , their son and himself.



Younger women, and a few of the more well-to-do mothers at school, wear the chudia thar. I once called this outfit a salwar kameez, but now think that term is for something slightly different. I find the chudia thar easier to wear, especially on my bike. For me the sari is a fussy outfit, the chudia thar less so.



When I bought my second chudia thar, the clerks wanted me to take a photo - so, here it is. This may be the largest clothing store in Sivakasi. The clothing in all stores is folded, individually stored in cellophane or boxes and stacked on the shelves behind the counter. You tell the clerks what you want and they begin pulling items off the shelves and removing packing. Soon the counter is covered with your many choices.

I bought a sari for Rs 430/$11 but the one the teachers were required to buy for special school occasions cost Rs 3000/$75. My two chudia thar averaged Rs 600/ $15 each. Mine are casual professional wear. Ones for special occasions would cost more. I also have a skirt Jolie brought me from her trip to India. I like to wear my four Indian outfits some days and my outfits from home other days. The mix seems to be working for us all.

Postcards from Kanyakumari

Rode 4 buses over 6 hours to the southern tip of India. Drove through wind, coconut palm, banana and rubber tree farms. Passed a combine harvesting rice. Saw piles of straw, sticks and bricks and some pigs - but no wolf. Felt the massage of a waterfall on our heads and backs - women fully dressed, but men in swim shorts. Read in the newspaper the next day, "Foreigners visit waterfall to celebrate Valentine's." Toured the palace of ancient kings. Waded where the Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea mingle. Visited a Ghandi Memorial. Watched the sunrise with thousands of others. Meditated in the Swami Vivekananda Memorial. ~L

P 1 - View from hotel

P2 - Boats on beach as seen while waiting in line for ferry to rock off point

P3 - Rock off point where Swami Vivekananda meditated 3 days in 1892. Statue of Thiruvalluvar, famous Tamil poet.

(More group photos on Facebook)

Surprises
On my way home from school I have pedalled past this woman sitting in front of her house turning pages from an old book into tight rolls. Finally on Friday I stopped to ask what she was making. She smiled as she called through the door. A younger woman appeared and, on hearing my question, told me the rolls were for fireworks. Fireworks. Really? Interesting.
Businesses in Sivakasi make fireworks. We often see them being tested in the night sky - sometimes in five or six locations all at once. Matches and fire crackers are also big industries here. It was easier for me to imagine the rolls turning into fire crackers.

Sunday morning I went for a bike ride and after lunch settled down to relax with my current novel. The late afternoon solitude was shattered by exploding and reverberating fire crackers. They were close. I hurried out my door, met Maarten in the hall and Kristen on the balcony - all of us curious. Across the street some men stood vigilant over a spent pile of fire crackers. Children jumped and cheered in joy.

After the excitement died, I went down to investigate. Here was my chance to see if those rolls of paper ended up as fire crackers. And they did!

The men explained through hand motions how fire crackers work. I asked what they were celebrating and a man coming from the stairs said it was his daughter's puberty party. She appeared on their balcony looking lovely in her gown, jewels and flowers. So lovely, I said. Come, he said taking my hand. Where are your friends? Come. May I bring my camera? Yes. Yes.

I gathered Kristen, Maarten and my camera. We climbed the stairs to the apartment where we met his daughter and other members of the family. The children were beside themselves with excitement. At least two of their mothers were teachers, one an English teacher. We got along fine.

Soon we were sitting at a table, banana leaf plates in front of us and food being served: idly, chapati, sambar, two chatnis, onion salad and, our new favorite, rava kesari. Sweet kesari with candied fruits. It's delicious.

Our host (behind his daughter in the picture) spoke with Maarten about the Dutch hockey team and about a Dutchman who established a nearby church in the 17oos. He asked me if I voted for Obama, shook my hand on my positive reply and then disappeared to see to the guests in another room. A nephew from another town continued the conversation with us.

After we finished eating, we talked with the children some more, exchanged e-mail addresses with the nephew and took more pictures. Then we made our farewells, wished the new young woman all the best and went home marveling at how generous and inclusive our neighbors had been.

Kristen returned later with some pencils and small dolls for the children. She brought them from Switzerland, her home, for just such a purpose. After dark we were treated to another batch of fire crackers, possibly rolled by the woman down the road. We cheered and waved with the children. And as we reflected on the events of the afternoon, it was easy to agree - India is full of surprises!

Downtown Sivakasi
Sivakasi has a population between 100,000 and 200,000. So it may be about the size of Salem. A trip into town on my bike is a test of my fortitude and balance. Traffic comes from all directions and horns blare the intent of someone to pass. Passing, not falling in line, is what everyone does.

Sometimes, when I'm downtown, I begin to believe I'm on a one-way street, but then someone comes from the opposite direction and I'm reminded there are no one-ways. Just like there are no stop signs or lights or lanes. Cars, auto rickshaws, large white ox pulling carts, and tractors pulling wagons or water tanks jockey for space with the more numerous bicycles and motorbikes. Thank goodness buses and trucks circumvent the core city center blocks.


This is the street the buses and trucks use. Amazingly I captured a calm moment in the traffic for this photo. This is an industrial area. I'm outside fireworks and matches factories. Fireworks, fire crackers, and matches are big industries in Sivakasi. Sometimes at night we see them testing fireworks over the city.

Printing is another leading business in Sivakasi. This older-looking plant is not too far from where I live. I've witnessed the women in their saris heading into work several times.

Like in many other places in the world, fruits and vegetables are sold in outdoor markets and not in supermarkets. Supermarkets, here, carry processed foods and snacks, toiletries and a few household items.

Hindu temples are plentiful all over the city. They come in all sizes. The smaller ones are tucked in among the shops, the larger ones are more apt to stand out on their own.

India is another country that knows eggs needn't be refrigerated. In this photo of a small shop if you look on the left to the shelf above the box, you'll spot the eggs.

Many small shops are none too deep. Customers may be able to take a step or two inside, but more likely we tell the shopkeeper what we want and he brings it out to us.

The father and the daughter in the last photo are typical Sivakasians. Friendly. Interested. Willing, even offering, to pose for photos. Helpful. The streets are noisy and chaotic, but the people who crowd them are charming.

And....This week Viji told me as a 6th year teacher at YRTV she earns Rs 10,000/ $250 a month. Mrs. Suganthi with 20 years at YRTV earns Rs 20,000/ $500.

My Project Placement
I am teaching at YRTV Matriculation School, a private school on the edge of Sivakasi. The grounds are on the property of NRK Ravindram, a local businessman and the school's founder and patron. Each morning my 12-minute bike ride takes me past his family's three large and lovely homes and then to the school. The students at YRTV are also from well-to-do, or at least upper middle class, families.

The school grounds are beautiful. Like a park. The grounds building and maintenance staff is numerous. But there are also trash cans everywhere - not something you see in other parts of the city.


The thousand students who attend YRTV are divided into two blocks: junior block is preschool to 5th standard/grade and senior block is 6th to 12th standard. In the photo portions of the two blocks were combined for the award giving ceremony on Republic Day. Both blocks combined for Sports Day, too. But normally the two blocks are kept separate by buildings, trees and a short distance. It can feel like they are on two different campuses.

I am assigned to senior block. My time table says I teach 12 sections of oral English each week. Since the students know English, I've been asked to work on pronunciation and fluency. I teach the 6th - 9th students and the 11C class. Each class has about 30 students and lasts 45 minutes.

Leela is the office manager. One of her jobs is assigning substitutes from within the building. I am asked to substitute several times a week. When I do, the students get another session of oral English...no maths, chemistry, etc, from me!

RS Balasundaram, principal of senior block, is an energetic and personable man. It's his 11th standard class I teach. The students tell me he also teaches zoology. He's a busy man - you might say the right hand of the patron. Here he is away from his big desk in his own office working on the computer in the main office.
The library is next to Balasundaram's office. The one computer with Internet access, such as it is, is in the library next to the librarian's desk. I've given up on it, but I do come to the library to read The Hindu, a daily English newspaper. From this paper I have learned about some of Obama's steps, the controversy over and pride in the movie Slumdog Millionaire, and one Hindu holy man's request that couples found dating on Valentine's be forced to marry. Guess we won't make Valentine's cards in class on the 14th.

The staff rooms are in this same building. The ladies is is on the ground floor and the gents is on the first floor. Teachers teach in several rooms so their desks are in the staff rooms.


There are 3 buildings for senior block. This one, the one we've just been touring, is built around an inner court. These students are working on a maths assignment. Others have left their shoes at the door of a computer lab. There are several computer labs, but no Internet access.

The shelves behind these two girls are as close as we get to lockers. Lunches the students bring themselves can be left here. Or they are kept with their backpacks or book bags....on the floor next to their desk in their home room.


The lunches that are dropped off later in the morning are picked up inside the gate. Students then sit in circles with friends on the ground, Lunch is 40 minutes long. Enough time to eat, visit, walk around and relax.

The school is quite proud of its new and improved Chemistry Lab. A new and improved Physics Lab is now under construction on the floor above it.

I've been told, I'm sure by reliable sources, that YRTV is the best school in Sivakasi. So, I doubt I'm experiencing the norm.

Another comment on water......

I went for a walk before breakfast this morning instead of after. I saw many more people filling water jugs...but not from the pumps, from taps. So I'd now say less people than I thought have indoor plumbing. And if they don't have it, they get their washing and bathing water from taps more often than the pumps and their drinking water from the trucks.