för FAN! min nya kamera blev stulen

i got robbed yesterday: my brand new nikon D60 that i've been carrying around like a three-week-old newborn is gone. apparently someone has a copy of our key and accessed the flat during the day while i was at work and stole it. my bedroom door lock is stripped and was supposed to be repaired on sunday, but alas it's too late now. i think the thief got some cash as well...maybe $50 in rupees. unfortunately i don't think any of my insurance (the health and life that i do currently have) covers the camera, though i am in the process of checking that.

needless to say i did not sleep last night despite the fact that my flatmate and i were locked in safely, and as a result did not make it to the gym this morning to run off the kilometers it would take to alleviate the levels of irritation/anger/annoyance/frustration i am experiencing.

the freaky thing is that i think someone saw me walking around with the camera on sunday in the market and then either followed me home and/or somehow knew or figured out where i lived. a lot of ppl have lived in the flat (mostly western girls), so it may not have been so difficult to figure out.

it's not so much the camera i care about except that i was going to use it to promote the kids and the ngo. and the feeling of violation isn't the warmest welcome to this place. because it cost $800, i don't think it is going to be replaced anytime soon. at least i didn't buy the new mac i'd been eyeing, b/c that would have gone missing as well.

in light of the current situation concerning my visa (yet to be posted…i’ve been granted the one for consultants (a business visa), and prospective trip to delhi to get it sorted, i’m not in a good mood today.

all i wanna know is, am i going to catch some good karma after all this? because as a result of this week (and it's only wednesday morning!), i am on the verge of buying a pack of cigarettes after six years sans nicotine. i am patiently waiting for something good to happen soon, god damn it!

The Flat

I was never a huge fan of the Sex and the City series, but one episode that I actually did enjoy in its entirety is the one in which Carrie is looking around to buy a flat in Manhattan, and there is nothing suitable—absolutely nothing—within her modest salary range. That is how I felt when I was looking at flats here. In a quick synopsis, most places that I looked at cost more than half of what I earn, and a few places wanted 70% of what I earn per month.

One agent was uber aggressive and showed me a 12 m2 flat with one bed. A girl was standing there and the agent said, “You’ll sleep in the bed with this girl, and the owner sleeps on the couch with her daughter out there” (and she pointed to the living room). The kitchen was dark, dirty, oily, complete with cockroaches. That place was half my salary. I said, “Thanks, we can stop the tour now….” Another equally priced place was a single room, about 12 m2 or 70 sq ft (I think), with a corridor with a tiny kitchen and a toilet. There were two huge piles of dirt sitting on the floor when we walked in due to “construction” (they were putting in a Western toilet). I just wish I'd taken pics. It was unbelievable.

So after these experiences I sought out two PG (Paid Guest) accommodation prospects in two nicer neighbourhoods: Breach Candy and Colaba. Each of those flats would have cost me about 70% of my earnings, and although they were nicer I couldn’t imagine spending so much for a place that I would probably spend so little time, plus pay the agent one month’s rent for finding something mediocre.

Finally, I found a place on craigslist in Mahim, which is a 20-min train ride to central station, and right near the Mahim train station. It’s really safe and bright, with a nice balcony and a small garden in the centre of what everyone calls “the society.” One flatmate is from Ohio, though she’s to be replaced by an Indian woman next week, and another flatmate is moving in two weeks’ time from France. Here are some pics to give you an idea...as you can see it could use a little work (for ex, curtains in the bedroom should be replaced and the kitchen needs improvement).

I did have to clean the bathroom, including a collection of multi-colored mold, to the shock of one of my office mates....here people hire maids to do "dirty work." Actually we had hired a maid but she refused to clean the bathroom. But since I'm not above it (yet) I scrubbed until the toilet and tiles became closer to the white shade that they should be.

Next posts:

My Affairs with Indian Food and Textiles

Flirting with the Idea of Part-Time Work for a Multi-National so that I Can Afford to Buy a Drink in This Country

General Adjustments, or Amusement, or a Pain in the A**

Here are some pics of my new neighbourhood, Mahim (in northern Mumbai).

After two weeks I’m starting to adjust to the grime, the noise, the traffic, inconvenience, and the begging in the city. It’s not an easy place to live, but I think I am learning. Yesterday and today I scouted my neighbourhood for a gym and a Western supermarket. I finally found the gym today, but as for the supermarket it seems that they want to keep it like the old British system: the chemist, the baker, the tailor, the candlestick maker. There is a supermarket that’s a train stop away, but for now I’ll probably learn where all the specific places are in the name of “convenience”.

Everyone has a different and interesting take on this city. My English friend’s friend said, “Bombay….yeah, that place will really fuck you up.” An Italian friend wrote to me in an email: “I’ve heard that it will touch your soul. How do you find it there, Anne?” Then I met an Irish guy the other day who said, “People get so scared of what they think they might see. But I found there’s not reason to be scared.” And one Kiwi acquaintance who lived here for four months wrote, “It’s not bad, if you don’t mind the grime” (since everything, and I mean everything, is covered with a layer of dust…inside and outside the home). So far, no one is incorrect in what s/he has said.

Something that is really nice about the city is that I feel like everyone is speaking a version of British English that maybe my English friends’ grandparents might have spoken. Everyone in the shops asks, “How can I help you, Madame?” and greets me with “Good evening” and “Good afternoon.” The language is so formal and I really like it! Lunch is eaten out of a stainless steel tiffin, if you are unlucky you are met with an accident, you go to U.S. or to U.K. Last night a waiter served me a bottle of beer sans glass, and I looked at him and said, “Sir, do you really expect a lady to drink from a bottle?” with proper British intonation. He swiftly and apologetically returned with a glass and a napkin. (I was actually quoting one of the sketches from Little Britain... my Indian girlfriends thought that was funny.)

The annoying thing is that everyone thinks I’m a tourist so the price for what I’m buying is automatically jacked up 2 or 3 times. The other day I was getting out of a cab when the cabby lied about the price (he’d messed with the meter), after which a yelling match ensued. Finally I tore his hand from my suitcase, threw down the money in the front seat and dodged away. The good thing is that I guess I am learning to be tough: like the saying goes, “That which does not kill you will only make you stronger.”

Being one of the only white-skinned people the area is equivalent to a crime, as one Indian friend put it, because many people do make the assumption that I’ve got Lots of money to spread around. So numerous kids and people approach me in the streets or when I’m at a stoplight in a cab with a hand out, palm up. Today in the market a man came up and put his arm around me and started to talk to me. My reaction was pretty pissed off, but I didn’t make eye contact or say anything because it’s definitely not good to gain even more (unnecessary) attention.

Maybe the guy in the market thought he was being friendly, but it’s more likely that he did it because I’m a Western woman and one generalization is that we are a bunch of nymphomaniacs. The sick bastard could have thought that I wanted to be touched. So that is not easy to face every day while out and about on the streets. I’m also reminded of what it must be like to be a Muslim woman in Sweden walking about on the streets and using public transport, where many will just stare and quietly muse, “Why is she dressed like that? I don’t get it. Poor woman.”

Many (though not all) here are thinking the exact same thing about me because I am not Muslim, and probably labeling me “infidel” as well. I am aware that some are educated and/or just admiring my white skin. But it’s not easy to get used to it b-c their reaction is so entirely strong to me. I remember that many Muslim women never made eye contact with me in Sweden, and that is exactly what I have to do here. If you’re not wearing sunglasses, averting your eyes is one of the few ways to show you are not interested in garnering more attention.

I've heard that Americans and Indians as two nations do have at least one thing in common: I read that something like 60-70% of each group does not own a passport, and they have no experiences or understanding from outside of the homeland. So dealing with a "Western woman" stereotype is challenging. Needless to say my sunglasses and low, wide-brimmed hat continue to be good friends of mine on while I'm out in the streets.

Mumbai, the World’s Attic (or, more succinctly, Why I Came Here)

I half jokingly told some friends that I thought living in Manhattan for two weeks before coming to Mumbai would be a great way to prepare psychologically for this pushy, aggressive rat race of a city becomes. But here I'm given mostly compassion and humanity by most along with a nagging reminder of how much of the world lives, surviving on a day to day basis.

It is a lot to think about that I can walk into a café and buy a cup of coffee for about a dollar or a beer for four dollars, when many families would live on that amount in a day. I could have bought a 3-month supply of powdered milk for an 18-year-old and his one-year-old sister standing outside, as he'd asked me –that happened on Sunday. But a lot of people are asking me for things, and I can't do it all! Regardless, these things have brought me to realise that I was right in making my decision to come here to work.

William Easterly, former World Bank employee who openly condemns the UN and World Bank in The White Man’s Burden, makes the analogy that the poor are living in the world’s attic: no one wants to think about cleaning or taking care of the attic because it’s not seen and not important to think about. It’s not even considered a priority. So using this analogy as a contrast, perhaps Manhattan is like the parlour where people put their best furniture and finest china for the guests to admire. If NYC is kind of a symbol of having made it, what is Mumbai? A subtle shade of post-colonialism?

If you haven’t guessed yet, this entry is about why I came here. When I said I was moving here last year the reaction often was, “I don’t get it,” or “Why would you do that?” and “Your work's going to be just a drop in the bucket!” A few Swedish friends think I'm actually a trust fund baby. Another friend's father thinks I'm working under cover as a secret agent (seriously!). Some merely feel I am an adventurous person for taking this job…but for those who did not understand why, I hope this entry offers another perspective. Thinking back at all the questions I got, I didn’t really want to try to explain why I was coming here. It seemed pretty futile to explain the concept.

My first commute on the train was today, and I knew it was going to have an impact because I’d heard that what you see can be overwhelming (given I am an ignorant Western newbie here). What I did experience wasn’t the worst thing, but it scared the hell out of me because I was reminded that living life on this planet for so many people is more of a purgatory and struggle for survival than something to be enjoyed. On the train I was reminded that people’s homes, small concrete and corrugated aluminum shacks that go on for miles and miles and miles alongside the railroad tracks, are surrounded by garbage, rats, open sewage. My perspective of "normal" is changing quite a bit, even after only two weeks.

But seeing such things scared me at first because it forces me to think about the meaning and purpose of life if it's so difficult for so many, while some of us get all the advantages of modern Western life. There I am, on the train in to work, reading a book and listening to my iPod while others can barely afford the 4 Rp (10 cent) ticket to get into the city. I'm thinking, how could it get to be this bad? But also, I have to wonder why I was spared from living such a life. My supervisor’s husband and I were talking about this at their dinner table and he said that we had, perhaps, stumbled upon the solution: that we need to start the trend in India to get girls to want to live life like me: as unmarried, childless 33-year-olds….because the city is busting at the seams with people. Okay, yes, that's an ignorant Western "solution" but he was joking.

But to finish, the reason I am actually here is because education and grassroots social change are two things I strongly believe in. I don’t really feel the same way about making a lot of money for myself (another post on this later, and no I am NOT a trust fund baby). I really feel strongly that education (the mind) is the only thing that cannot be claimed, even if everything else material has vanished. Here I will be working with kids who are all born and raised in the slum communities of Mumbai, who want to improve their lives and the condition of their communities. I will be working regularly with 30 kids, all of whom are working to change people’s habits and perspectives. The impact of education on these lives, which is not only essential but also powerful, will create social change in a community that desperately needs it. Teaching in Sweden or the U.S. was not rewarding in the same way because the impact I will make here is much greater. For that reason, I am going to try to do this for at least a year and see how it goes.

Next posting will not be so solemn, I promise!

NB: here are photos from the library outing we took yesterday. The little social activists were research on topics such as waste disposal, noise pollution, destruction of mangroves and human rights in India. Here the bottom is a pic of Churchgate Station after my very first solo train ride in to the city.

TB and Other Paranoias (Sickness, Disease, and Sexual Repression)

i mention in my last blog my brush with medical personnel and their advice regarding malaria pills, etc. now i'll finish describing a few of my strongest paranoias while living abroad.

the american nurse, like most other american doctors and nurses (being either paranoid or prudent), gave me a two booster shots for measles, mumps & rubella as well as tetanus to prepare me for this trip to the tropics. then they gave me some 'literature,' which ...i'm not kidding... is 15 pages long and has sobering titles and subtitles such as 'avian influenza H5N1,' 'rabies,' 'crime,' 'terrorism,' and everything else that would prevent someone from coming to this country. in one section it actually suggests bringing one's own syringes, 'just in case of emergency' so as to avoid contracting hepatitis!

one section that really got my attention, though, was the TB section (of course i read the whole report cover to cover). when i went to latvia five years ago it was still considered a 'big' problem there, meaning that a few dozen cases were reported each year. an american friend of mine used to 'protect' himself by putting up his coat collar so as to avoid contact with the TB-afflicted while we stood in queue at the post office or cinema anytime someone coughed behind us. that made me laugh out loud. but now i'm not laughing.

according to this source, india has 'a prevalence of over 100 cases per 100,000 population, the highest WHO risk category.' that's a lot of people walking around with a chronic cough if mumbai consists of 14 million by day! it then notes: 'travellers should avoid crowded public places and public transportation whenever possible.' (how is this physically possible!?) later on i read that if i hear someone with a 'rasping or chronic cough,' i should immediately move away from that person. i'm going to try not to freak out about this, but instead perhaps see it as a kind of game or challenge until i manage to forget that statistic.

disease is fairly common, i suppose, given india is a developing country. i don't know if cockroaches actually do carry disease but i think they do in some microscopic way. rats do. piles of garbage, mosquitoes, the drinking water. so i'm surrounded by disease and remembering my danish supervisor's advice from jakarta. she said that if you take it in small doses, you should be fine the day you actually ingest it by mistake. so she brushed her teeth with the tap water, to the bewilderment of our scandinavian colleagues. but i didn't purposefully brush my teeth with the tap water here the other night...i'd just forgotten that i wasn't brushing at home.

finally, a great personal fear involves male behavior rooted in sexual repression. two years ago in jakarta i was walking on a 'safe' sidewalk at dusk (just outside of the UN building). i was distracted by a text message when suddenly, i felt a hand on my breast. the guy walking towards me had reached out, under my very conservative jacket (i was actually totally covered....since it's a muslim country), cupped his hand around my right breast, and squeezed. i thought, MY GOD! what friend is that? b/c he has a sick sense of humor! but when i turned around i saw it was not a friend, but a stranger. he wanted to cop a feel when no one was looking. but it was really probably the most disturbing sense of violation that i had ever experienced and i felt ashamed to be so angry about it (when many women get raped every day for no reason). well, this story happened again: yesterday. but this time it was not a man...it was a posse of 8- and 10-year-old boys! yes. i got felt up by a bunch of school boys, on a public street. this time, i was distracted by a toasted cheese sandwich which i was eating.

i was walking down the street from a flat i'd gone to check out when i passed a small group of what seemed to be innocent schoolboys. as soon as i approached they almost crept forward towards me, but then leaned in even more and then gently but quickly each put his hand on my breast (one one the left, two on the right, taking turns of course). it was too advanced to say that they hadn't done it before. but i realized my mistake: through my white linen shirt you could vaguely see the trace of a white bra. so i will def not be wearing that shirt /bra combo again while i am here, unless adorned by a scarf that covers my torso. and i will not walk down the street while simultaneously eating a sandwich.

my first days in mumbai

so far everything about this place is pretty baffling...i am struggling with +9.5 hours of jetlag, trying to deal with seeing abject poverty every time i go out on the street, manage the buckets of rain falling from the sky, trying to deal with the mumbaikars viewing me as a rich foreigner, trying to have faith in why i came here after so many friends, family and acquaintences have asked me, "Why the hell would you go There?" (this i will cover in a future blog.)

i'll manage. like a friend said, "if you can handle jakarta for six months, you can def handle mumbai." just need to meet a friend of mine tomorrow to pick up my malaria pills.,then i'll feel 100% more comfortable. i've already got about 10 bites on my calves, shins and feet. the swedish nurses told me not to bother with the malaria pills, but my american nurse said that i must be crazy to even think about taking that risk. malaria pills: ordered.

right now i'm getting absolutely inundated with info at work ...have about four huge manuals to read about curriculum implementation and general org protocol. then i'm trying to learn the basic streets/areas of south mumbai, plus memorize the names of my students and colleagues. i was at the office from 9.30 to 16.30, then at the centre with the students from 1700 to 19ish doing some peer editing and grammar on some papers with them. after seeing their work, i can see that this school year (which started in june) is def going to be a challenge!

on top of everything, i am uber homesick for sweden and even caught myself logging in at gp.se today to check the weather and front page news. i cannot believe i am going to miss two of my favorite things: the surströmming (herring) with schnapps as well as the august crawfish festival. the thing i miss the most though was my breakfast: caviar from a tube on toast with cheese. i wonder if i will learn to love something that much here?