Click here to read the blog of Distinguished Alumna Laura Dunn and learn more about her critically-acclaimed film THE UNFORESEEN.
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Last week the Volunteer Center of Durham presented its Mayor's Awards for 2007:
Among the students recognized for giving more than 100 hours of community service during the summer:
Gargi Bansal
Nick Drago
Devin Gustafson
Jennifer Hambric
David Lee
Will Ramsey
Sean Sketch
Jennifer Spritzer (now attending Cedar Ridge HS)
Raj Sundar
Recognized as "Hard Core Volunteers" (more than 50 hours of service during the school year):
Sam Berchuck
Nick Drago
John Hunter
Chris Koller
Josh Pathman
Recognized as members of the 06-07 Student Action Board:
Nick Drago (President for 07-08)
Jennifer Hambric
John Hunter
Briani Weeks
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From Cambridge to Jaipur - Nan Ransahoff recently sent another report from India - chapter 2 of her semester abroad. Excerpts appear below and the entire message (with a fascinating section on the treatment of women in Indian society) on Community Matters.
Hello, hello! I've been in India for just over a month and have yet to be hit by a rickshaw, plowed over by a camel or bucked off an elephant (yes, I did ride one). There's far too much to fit into an email (I think my emails are longer than most papers I wrote at school freshman year), but I'll try to pick a few highlights. I won't lie. This is going to be a long one and it won't even be comprehensive. I apologize in advance. Anyways, the Taj Mahal's a decent place to startŠ
Four of us had planned to take a 3 hour train from Delhi to Agra, spend a few hours at the Taj Mahal and then take a 7 hour train back to Jaipur. It's a lot of train time, but I mean, it's the TM so whatever. First of all, the trains are insane. We rode 3AC, which is the lowest class with air conditioning. In a space the size of most Americans' walk in closets, 3 beds on one side and 3 beds on the other are stacked so closely on top of one another that you can't sit up straight. After an uncomfortable 3 hours, the train stopped not at the train station but next to a small road in the middle of nowhere. "Agra!!" someone shouted, which thoroughly confused me. How was there not a giant, gleaming train station to welcome the millions of tourists that come from all over the world to see the Taj Mahal? I asked one of the railway employees where the train station was. "Agra is closed today, ma'am. The Taj Mahal is closed today." I knew the Taj Mahal was closed every Friday, but it was Saturday. When I asked him why, he said there were "many foreign VIPs in Agra." I don't even get that. How can you just close the Taj because there are some "foreign VIPs" I didn't ask any more, for fear they'd say the "foreign VIP" was actually MTV taping "Real World India" or the next season of "The Amazing Race." Really, who just shuts down the Taj Mahal? Can you plan your wedding there? How about Bar Mitzvahs? In the end, we spent the night outside of Agra and watched the sun rise over the Taj Mahal the next morning, which was unbelievable (I woke up half an hour early to attempt tying my own sariŠit kiiinnd of worked. See the picture attached). It was definitely worth it in the end, but quite a ridiculous journey.
I have fully embraced the Indian dress code. I've purchased 4 new outfits, on which I spent a grand to total of $30. Rajasthan is known for its vibrant fabrics and textiles, illustrated by Rajasthani women - from street sweepers to businesswomen - who wear sarees (essentially a few yards of fabric you wrap around yourself to make it look like a gown) of every color and pattern you can imagine. Rajasthan is primarily desert, which makes the bright colors pop even more. Driving through rural areas, it's impossible to miss women plowing the fields or carrying a pile of 10ft-long branches on their heads while wearing sarees of highlighter yellow and pink. I've decided to use these 4 months to wear as much color as I possibly can. I love/think its hilarious that I can wear neon pink, green, yellow and blue in one outfit and still look dull in comparison to the women around me. Though I must say, I'm a little worried my sense of what's normal has been radically skewed. "Going out" clothes are now synonymous with sequins and sparkles. I think I'm in for a rude awakening upon return, but I'm loving it now. India has proved to be an assault on all the senses, and the color here plays a large part in that. (I should also say that I get basically my whole wardrobe washed, dried, and beautifully pressed for just over $2. My Crimson Crazies shirt has never looked so gorgeous).
There's quite a stark contrast between "going out" in India and "going out" in the US to say the least. On my way to a bar here, I will always pass at least half a dozen cows, camels sleeping after a long day's work, and half-naked children running through the streets at 11pm (bed time here seems to be a foreign concept). The other night I went to (what was supposed to be) a fun club in Jaipur with some friends. After waiting half an hour for the DJ to play something other than slow jams (for real, it was a flashback to 6 th grade, backstreet boys and Britney includedŠspeaking of Britney, a small picture of her is often on the front page of the papers here) we asked the DJ to play something we could dance to. He looked pretty excited we asked and was nodding aggressively, so we thought he got the message. Apparently that was not the case, as hhe just started blasting "Hotel California" as loud as he could. Needless to say we left after a good laugh. (Id also like to add that dancing is mostly segregated by gender. Its common for guys to hold hands and spin each other around and sort of bump up against each other. Guys hold hands walking around during the day, which is really cute/hilarious so I sort of expected a version of this on the dancefloor. Regardless, it was funny to see. )
On a different note, I went on my first motorcycle ride a few weeks ago. I needed to run a few errands and Ankit, my host brother, decided to take me. Like I said in my last email, driving here is absolutely insane. Ankit started full speed down our tiny dirt road, and, like most drivers here, barely looked before turning onto the next (very busy) road. Every movement here seems to be taken on faith. Because Ankit's English is so good, I asked him out of curiosity if he knew what the word "yield" meant. He didn't, so I explained the concept to him. Still, nothing. I laughed nervously to myself and held on tightly. But really there's nothing you can do in the back seat other than pray that either your driver or the other car decides to defect in this dangerous game chicken. It
Bhavnaji and I often go on long walks in the park, which is where I acquire fun clips like this as well as get a chance to talk about heavier matters, which she usually initiates. We've become surprisingly close in the past month. I think she is beginning to see me as a confident of sorts. Through a series of pretty intense conversations, I'm beginning to piece together her life story and also understand some of the major (and horrific) issues concerning the condition of women in India. Some excerpts from our conversationsŠ.(Keep in mind that she is well educated with a degree in psychology and a wonderful husband and son)
- Her father died when she was 1, her mother was poisoned by her secretary who wanted to take the family's wealth. The police did nothing because they were bribed by the secretary to remain silent. Because of this, Bhavnaji chose to marry "down" into a family that wasn't money crazy. As a result of her marrying down (still the Brahman caste, but down socio-economically) her brother wont speak to her.
- Growing up, her mother snuck her money and gifts because her brothers would have treated her and her mother much worse had they known.
- When she was born, her immediate and extended family did not speak to her mother for a year to punish her for having a girl.
- According to Bhavnaji, the upper castes are smart/well-behaved and the lower castes stupid and dirty due to genetics. Dalits (untouchables) are "no better than pigs."
- The lower-caste woman who sweeps her driveway only comes twice a week now because (even though Bhavnaji pays her well) she makes more money by selling her daughter into prostitution. (The way she describes it, the shortage of women due to sex-selective abortion has driven the going rate for girls).
- In traditional families, the woman is treated horribly by her husband's family until she "earns" her place in the family. To this day, Bhavnaji's mother-in-law still hates her. Bhavnaji describes her as a "wretched woman." Yet she still cooks and cleans for her every single day because it is "her duty." The difference between conceptions of familial responsibility here vs the US is just enormous.
- She wanted to have another child, but her husband did not want to risk having a girl.
Honestly, these are tiny tiny tiny excerpts of conversations we've had, during which I'm often fighting back tears. She's constantly telling me "the condition of women in India is very bad, so bad I cannot explain you." She's always telling me that many Indian women will lie about their condition, but she will not even though it makes her "weakness seeable." Her life and honesty are both remarkable. I could go on forever about what she's told me and how it's changed me, but I'll cut myself off here. Bottom line is that our conversations and growing friendship alone have made my semester abroad worth it.
On a lighter note, singing lessons with her are going -- well -- they're going. Since I don't know the language I sing with 5-8 year olds. We're currently learning a Rajasthani folk song, to which she won't let me right down the words. She usually stops the class several times to turn to me and say, "When you sing Rajasthani folk song, your heart become Indian and you will know the words in your heart." This is most definitely not the case. I usually just mouth "watermelon, watermelon" over and over again and hope she doesn't notice I don't have the slightest clue what's going on.
Okay, well I clearly could go on forever and have still hardly touched on anything in this largely disjointed email, but my time at this internet café is about to expire and I think I've developed carpal tunnel in the past hour. I miss you all so much and would love to hear from all of you if you get the chance!! I hope all is well.
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