Past due update pt. 1

And I now have internet! Sometimes... and it's very slow. But it is ok, because sitting at my computer is the last thing I want to do here. “Here” is a small village called Jhiri in south east Rajasthan. Originally, my project for the year was located in east India, but as always happens in this country, plans changed.

So on September 8th, after spending 25 days in Ahmedabad, I left the state of Gujarat and headed north via the sleeper car on Britain's most helpful legacy here, the train. Traveling with me were the two other fellows I will be working with for the rest of the year, both of whom I admire immensely. We disembarked in Kota, and caught a six hour bus ride to Jhiri. Before we left I looked up Jhiri on Google maps. I couldn't find it. If you were to search for Jhalawar, the district in which Jhiri is located, the actual town of Jhalawar would show up. This is the closest largish town to Jhiri, and is three hours away by bus. What all of this means is that the stars at night here are so brilliant they actually look like millions of little holes in the sky, the air is so clean that I can't breathe enough, and we are miles and miles from any built up civilization. It is bad for internet, but good for people.

The organization for which I am working has been operating for 20 years, and focuses on the farming community, which is everyone here. It is a small organization, with two leaders and a handful of employees—although everyone helps out. The organization is centered around the school, which is attended by 150 children in standards one through ten. In addition to the school, we run a textile cooperative which allows primarily women to earn extra income for their families, as well as to have a source of wealth themselves. We have four handlooms on our campus, and run the entire textile process ourselves, except for spinning the thread (so dye prep, dying, loom prep, looming, sewing, detailing). As many of these women are illiterate, my official reason for being here is to help them expand their market and strengthen their cooperative in general. Apart from the school and the textile cooperative, I find ways our organization is involved in the community here every day.

While the two other fellows and I live in the school hostel, we spent 6 days each in surrounding villages with different families, and will do this once every month. I learned a lot. Everyone here is involved in agriculture, and it is mostly subsistence farming, although many families also grow some soy as a cash crop. Everything we eat comes from the farms. Some highlights: daal that we helped pick, de-seed, and dry; fresh water buffalo milk every morning in our chai; buffalo yogurt; fresh grilled corn; and whole wheat rotis (tortilla like unleavened bread). There is not a lot of fruit, aside from some funky melon things, but every now and then one of the other fellows or I will make the trek to town for supplies and pick up apples and bananas. People live in brick and mud homes that house a joint family—usually brothers, their wives and children and their parents—and the water buffalo and oxen they own, usually five to eight. Many families also keep goats. The culture is very colorful: from women's saris to traditional Rajasthani house painting, there is color everywhere. Every day there is farm work to be done, and everyone pitches in, even grandma and gramps.

Sometimes I feel like I might as well be on another planet, and at other times I am reminded of how all humans—regardless of where we live—are all the same. Brothers and sisters fight here too, teenagers gossip, and moms want to keep feeding you until you explode. People are generally very happy. Money is excruciatingly tight, but most families buy very little and are astoundingly resourceful. I have already built many amazing relationships here and in many ways it already feels like home.