Over the Hump

I mean that literally and figuratively, as this past weekend consisted of a camel safari as well as the halfway point in my journey.

Last Friday, we loaded into a bus for a three hour journey West to the town of Pushkar. Pushkar attracts tourists of all sorts—Indian, Isreali, Chinese, American, European. Many Hindus will make a pilgrimage to the town to visit one of only three temples in India dedicated to Brahma (there’s a myth that anyone who builds a temple dedicated to Brahma will die…) and also to see the Holy Waters, which is what it just what it sounds like: a big lake. The whole town of Pushkar is actually a holy city, so meat and alcohol are illegal! In contrast to Jaipur, which has shattered the Disney-fied Indian world I’ve had in my head, Pushkar seemed much more like the stereotypical India I had been imagining. Narrow streets filled with old mustachioed men, heads wrapped in turbans; women doing henna; the sound of sitars and the smell of incense.

Arriving to our safari Saturday afternoon, I was barraged by the camel drivers, each one nearly pushing me toward his respective camel before I even had time to put my backpack on our luggage trailer. The camel I ended up with was draped with colorful, beaded netting and decorated with ribbons, fake flowers, and pom poms. I christened my camel Lucille, which I thought would be an appropriate name until it dawned on me that she was potentially a he. It remained Lucille though, because I really didn’t feel the need to accurately assess the gender of my camel. My camel driver, Nanu, was a little boy—he couldn’t have been older than seven years old. And it made me feel horrible. I’m sure he wasn’t attending school. But I’ve been debating with myself whether or not this is a good thing. An education would prepare him for the world and his future, possibly giving his family a boost in the poverty struggle. But is his job now sustaining his family? If he’s not making money now, will it take a meal away from a baby brother or sister? I’ve been struggling with questions like this lately as I see people living in extreme poverty along the sides of the roads. Either way, it was hard for me to sit on the camel while he walked through the dust, holding the lead rope.

The safari was two hours in total. It wasn’t the epic trek through a barren, hallucination-inducing desert that I was hoping for, but rather a mellow jaunt on roads through fields and rural farms. But, you know, I guess that will work too. We camped in tents that night, on cots with comforters. Actually, the only part of it that really reminded me of camping was the big, warm fire we had, which I sat next to all night. This camping experience further made me think about the contrast between my position and the position of a vast number of Indians. I am so incredibly lucky to have the life I do, to be supported emotionally, financially, and otherwise. And the sights I see hurt me. I know I’m not personally responsible for them, but it’s hard to reconcile the comfort and luxuries I enjoy when I see families living in the dirt, cooking their meals on median strips. I just don’t know what to do or how to react when children approach me asking me for “just one chapatti.” The IDEX employees told us that giving to individuals is bad, as it encourages dependence. It breaks my heart that I must just walk away. BUT, the point of this trip is learning how to be an agent of change, so if I try to look for the good in everything, I can view this as inspiration to change things and to somehow find a way to help these people.

We’ve continued our work at Go Sewa Sangh this past week, which has consisted of (take a wild guess) lots of cow poop. I’ve rotated through organic farming and vermi-composting, as well as the production and packaging of naturopathic medicines. We actually stirred the concoction of amla fruit and cow ghee cooking in a huge pot over a fire, skimmed off foam from the surface of boiling cow urine, and mixed huge bags of sugar into a vat of some sort of liquid. If I really tried hard to pretend, I could have been in potions class at Hogwarts. Wishful thinking.

A major cold front came in last week. And when I say that, I mean that it’s in the 60s during the day and gets down into the 30s at night. But it NEVER gets that cold here. My host mom told us that the last time the temperature hit 0 degrees Celsius was in 1905, and it got down to 1.5 last week! Whenever Hannah and I would walk upstairs to breakfast, the first thing we’d hear was how low the temperature got last night. We haven’t gotten many weather updates this week though, as it’s warmed up a bit.

The smells, traffic, and noise of the city have been starting to get to me, so I’ve been attempting to find ways to relax and block it out. Our daily chai helps (Sujith has started giving us a cup in the evenings now!) And lots of reading. We found a market nearby our house that sells Western snacks, so I got my jar of peanut butter and finally found some dental floss. Who knew it was so hard to find in Asia?

When Hannah and I got home today, our host brother called us up to the roof to practice for tomorrow’s kite festival, national holiday, where people hang out on their roofs and fly kites all day. I learned that there are two types of strings—a hard and soft kind. The hard kind is used so that you can cut other peoples’ kites down. But you have to be careful because they can also cut human skin! I’m a little bit intimidated by how serious people are about their kites here…hopefully I’ll be able to hold my own if it comes down to a duel with a neighbor’s kite.

I miss everyone lots and hope all is well!