Mr. Pathania has brought me back into the project I originally signed up for, which is to help the group refine and develop the microfinance portion of its Rural Entrepreneurship Development Programme. I suppose I will help out on the other projects – marketing and sales of Rexene bags, development of a plan to double the income of rural farmers, and documentation of Self Help Group benefits – but they will not be my primary focus.
After lunch, we went out into the field again, this time traveling to the village of Tupni. Here, again, we sat with a farmer and discussed the economics of running a farm – how much income he makes, what it costs to feed, clothe, and pay for other essentials in his family of seven. Mr. Kamani, the Tata representative that took us there, is very interested in the economics of an American farmer. I wish I knew more about this stuff! I try to explain the economics of my life for comparison, but who knows how they really compare? One major difference we both recognised was the fact that here, there is usually only one breadwinner – the man. In America, my wealth is doubled by the fact that both Sean and I work.
At one point, Mr. Kamani invited me to take a look inside the farmer’s home. He even encouraged me to take pictures even though I expressed to him my desire not to treat people like a tourist attraction. The woman of the house was very friendly and seemed happy to let me walk in her rooms and take pictures of her life. I couldn’t tell her anything in Gujarati, so I just smiled a lot and said “Thank You” many times in English, hoping that my tone would convey my gratitude. She then invited me to sit. She and her mother-in-law (I presume) were sitting there on the ground, while they asked me to sit in a chair. Also there was a young girl of about seven and a young boy of about three. The boy was being swung by his grandma in a homemade cradle made of sticks and a cloth hammock. We attempted to communicate though it was very difficult. About the only thing I managed to convey was that I have one brother. So, they know about you, Shane.
The place of women in these parts is very interesting. For the most part, women stay out of sight. They do not engage with the men unless the men engage with them. Often, they walk around with a scarf over their face. So, when I come about, I am really an oddity:
- I look different.
- I talk different.
- I speak directly with the men, even being so bold as to ask questions.
When we had arrived at this farm, I stuck out my hand to shake the farmer’s friend’s hand. The man looked at me like I had three heads. Men only shake the hands of other men, I guess. Then, the farmer looked at me, folded his hands like in prayer, bowed his head, and said “Namaste” to me instead of shaking my hand. I’ll have to remember that as the better way.
Also when we arrived, Jamal pointed out that this place had a bathroom, a vast improvement over the normal situation. At one point, I decided I really needed to pee, so I went to where Jamal said the bathroom was, a small cement building in sight of where we were sitting. I walked in and there was no toilet, just a floor, a small elevated part on which clothes, soap, and a toothbrush sat, and the ever-present bucket of water and cup. I immediately walked right back out, thinking, “this can’t possibly be it.” But, there was nowhere else. So, I went back inside and stared at the ground. I noticed there was a small drainage pipe and the water on the ground (apparently left from a prior usage of the “bathroom”) was flowing toward it. I decided that this must be it: I’m meant to just pee on the floor and rinse it off with the cup of water so that it goes out the drain pipe. Hmmm. I managed to do it, but in the process, I also managed to splash the bottom of my own pants and dip them into the water already on the ground … ick. I’m not very good at this! (I’m not sure I want to get very good at this.)
Anyway …
After leaving the farmer’s place, we went to view a well that is being constructed by a village in partnership with Tata. Currently, the 1500 people in this village get all of their water from a local pond. They use the pond water for drinking, and they also wash their clothes in it. Cattle often come to the same pond to drink, and birds and other animals defecate in the pond. So, there is a lot of disease in the village due to the poor quality of the water.
Tata has helped the village to begin constructing three structures that will be fed by the pond: a well in which the water will be filtered enough to make it potable, a trough for the cattle to drink from, and a trough in which washing can be done. Afterward, they will construct a wall around the pond to prevent people and animals from contaminating it. Tata is paying 80% of the cost and the village is contributing the remaining 20%.
Next, we stopped in the main part of the village so Mr. Pathania could get some chewing tobacco. There he bought us these tiny bags of coriander seeds, which were like very mini salted peanuts. Tons of people gathered round when we stopped, but they were all men and children – no women. One kid stared at me so hard and with such a look of incredulousness – I can only imagine that he’s never seen a white woman, or perhaps a woman that hangs out with the men.
Finally, to top off our adventures, we drove into Dwarka, a relatively big town, to view a shop Tata helped to set up so that the woman making the beautiful tunics in Mithapur can sell them.
I just finished eating dinner, where we encountered our first white person in town: a Finnish engineer that supplies Tata with some kind of filter. He’s here for the week training some Tata staff in how to manage the filter. He’s been here many times and couldn’t believe that we were staying for 9 weeks: there’s almost nothing to do here. Fortunately, I have plenty of work to do, so I should manage.