The Good & My Ugly

Baby House Adventures: The power outages are increasing in frequency, which is fine, as they’re during the day so we have sunlight, but that means that the fans and A/C (the latter of which doesn’t really do much good) don’t work; consequently, the kids are really uncomfortable.  I’ve been covering a lot of the ayahs’ work instead of doing OT, just because the kids need to be fed and dressed and comforted before we can work on mobility and ROM. (Range of motion, sorry).  

My cutie, J., scooted forward about 4 feet today, using only his arms to pull himself. (His legs are paralyzed, I don’t know if I said that before).  He’s so cute, making so much improvement, and I’m the proudest “Amma.”

I have been able to work with Baby C., who has a cleft palate/Gtube and therefore can’t lay on her stomach.  To prepare her for crawling someday, I’ve been putting her in that position and supporting her. She hates it! But yesterday, while we were doing it, another kid bit me, making me jump and let go of Baby C.  After falling face first into the couch, she now hates precrawling exercises even more, and thankfully at least the nurses understand that I’m not torturing her! Then about 10 minutes after that fiasco, I was moving a girl with pretty severe CP to the couch to feed her, and a little girl with dwarfism ran between my feet.  I stepped on her and almost fell over myself, with the child I was holding.  So, that’s kind of what the whole day at the baby house is.  You try to do one thing and 39 other things happen instead.  I hope this is where my OT-gone-wrong stories happen so I’m better when I have a job someday! J

I also have an unofficial pet at the baby apartment, a little lizard I’ve dubbed Komodo.  Today he discovered my granola bars.  That was fun to wake up to.

Cultural Info For (Bekah): I’ve analyzed the natives, and apparently, that sari top did fit the way it was supposed to, minus the sleeves.  Indian women don’t wear bras under sari blouses, just push the girls up and pull the top together as tightly as they can :P  Most of the women also don’t wear underwear, making it easier to just squat and defecate on the side of the road.  The joys of other cultures.  ALSO, there are fireworks going off all the time, which are for weddings (or funerals, but mainly weddings).  I'm still hoping to get invited to one!!! :)

Caution to continue reading:  As I only have a short time on the internet each day, and that varies with the unreliable electricity, this is my easiest form of mass communication with my family, so it’s going to be honest and also exhibit many of my flaws.  If you want a happy story, maybe don’t read the rest of this post, and try again tomorrow.

The honeymoon phase might be over. I still love the country, the people, the culture, but the cultural transition is requiring some work. 

I miss English:  Because the other American volunteer is gone, it means there are only 2 nurses who speak English that I can talk to, unless I go to the director’s house. (The PT—physical therapist, or physiotherapist if you’re in India—also speaks English, but he only comes at night for a couple hours). The older girls I’m working with are in their first year of school, so they also don’t know much English, but thankfully, their older sisters do. It’s a tad difficult to convey to a child with CP that she should make a circle if she won’t look at the paper and she doesn’t know what “circle” means!  J 

All in all, I think I’m getting a little lonely without much communication, considering that I’m used to having multiple roomies and being constantly around people at both of my jobs and school.  I’m looking forward to being in other portions of India, where they don’t hate Hindi so much and I can use my small vocabulary.  Thankfully, some of the neighbors speak English also, so when I take the kids out on the roof, they decide to venture out too so they can practice. 

I’m sure there are many others who speak English/Hindi, but friendliness on the street isn’t really common here, unless you consider “Aaamericaaa, what is your name?” or “Heyyyyyy” as friendly. These people, believe it or not, Bekah, I actually enjoy underneath my stoic facial expression, due to their bad grammar and pronunciation.   I have this mental image of a snooty Russian model, with a vacant stare or eyes down, and perfect posture, that I try to imitate for the purposes of not attracting further attention and, well, safety. I have no idea why Russian, so please don’t take offense, but at least all the attention for being a GORI (white lady) improves my posture J I haven’t popped my back more than 3 times since I got here!

Disasters:  I’ve ventured out twice now on my own to different parts of the “village” (Village meaning 400,000 people), and the first time was so good that I was really pumped to do it again. Today though, I ended up yelling “JAO! JAO! TUM JAO!” (Go/get away) at a little girl who was harassing me for money (and who probably doesn’t even understand Hindi).  I know that I’m not supposed to give, and I know that the money probably doesn’t even stay with her but goes to a “pimp” of sorts, AND I know that because I was the only white person on the street and because her friends/siblings also started to come close, I had to get away. BUT, oh my gosh, it hurts to yell so angrily at an 8 y/o girl—I think I’d rather just put on my tennis shoes and hope that my ability to run distance could come back, and just get away that way instead L.  I attracted enough attention from the other people (moreso than my usual Caucasian appeal) to make her stop and leave me alone.  Five minutes later, she followed me to a shop and slapped me on the face.  I don’t really know what is appropriate to do in that situation—culturally, or ethically—so I just ignored her after my initial shock.  

On the way home, my autorickshaw (google image if you don’t know what this is) got in an accident, and then the driver tried to take me somewhere that wasn’t my destination.  Add a few more incidents with the phone company who complains because they don’t understand your language (haven’t really had that one happen before, especially when they are speaking English to me), waking up daily at 4 a.m. just because I can’t sleep, and an inability to find an ice cream shop to cool down=lousy, pathetic me.

The good news is that the nurses are going to take me to the seamstress tomorrow, and I’ll get my saris and salwar kameez made J