Surajkaradi

Today, the last day of July, is my 32nd day here. I am officially half way through my stay in India. Fittingly, I did some things today that I absolutely could not, would not have one month ago, proving (to myself) that I have come a long, long way since then.

Surajkaradi is the village right next to Mithapur. Of all the villages, it is the busiest, craziest place, by far. Little scrappy shops line the main road, which is not paved and full of mud, cows, people, dogs, trucks, rickshaws, motor bikes, etc. This village is noisy and polluted. There are no traffic rules, and during the mornings and evenings, the area becomes very congested and chaotic. Up till now, just thinking of it stressed me out. Driving through it gave me a headache.

But, in addition to being all these things, Surajkaradi is also the place with the greatest number of REDP graduates, so I knew I’d have to spend some time there eventually. We had planned to go yesterday, but the rain stopped us. We didn’t expect to go today as we were told that no driver was available. But, we’re running out of time here, and Margi the translator is only available for a few more days, so I decided to get myself to Surajkaradi anyway. For the first time, we took matters into our own hands, arranged for a local contact to take us around and hired an auto-rickshaw driver for the afternoon. By 2:30, Lee and I were wandering about crazy Surajkaradi with Margi and Somabhai, a 23-year-old fieldworker whose job it is to manage the SHGs in this area. He knows all the REDP graduates and so can take us to their businesses or residences for the interviews.

Funny thing is … by 4pm or so, my view of Surajkaradi had totally changed. Unlike everywhere else we’ve been, Surajkaradi has that buzzy, almost urban feel. It seems almost everyone in town is an entrepreneur and through competition with one another, they feed and fuel each other’s energy and ambition. Of course, not everyone is successful, but many are very successful, earning double or triple what REDP graduates in quieter villages earn. It’s funny, but Surajkaradi, which is definitely not a city or even a proper town, reminded me of home: The buzzy, capitalist, big cities I call home, where everyone is busy as bees trying to make a buck/pound.

Another way in which this experience was different was that out of necessity, I took charge … a much more natural role for me, but one that’s been stemmed by my newness to this culture/place/job. I got into my “gettin’ down to business” mode and just went for it. No more of this dilly dallying, waiting for more senior staff to call the shots. No more of this cultural tip-toeing whereby I was a little afraid of offending someone with my directness. Margi and I did all the questioning, and in turn, surprisingly, these men responded quite well to us.

Suddenly, I feel like myself again … but better.