2009_06_17

Coming back from Warangal, we took a 3-hour express bus back to Hyderabad.  It was an express Deluxe bus.  The Deluxe part is because it had wider, “reclinable” (which didn’t always recline) individual seats compared to straight back general seats.  I much prefer the straight back general seats.  The velvety reclinable seats sagged and smelled of sweaty bodies from the past, absorbed into the purposefully dark velvet fabric.  

As I was trying to sit properly, the rural sceneries outside flashed by.  Women and men were working in the field in the midday scorching heat, bending over and pulling weeds.  Children were running up and down the field or hanging out by the water source, splashing each other with water.  As the bus honked its way past inferior autorickshaws and trucks, I sighed.  It was a realization that I was living what I have been wanting to do for so long.  Ever since the representative from Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) came to make a presentation at Pinetree Secondary School’s library, a vague idea of a career started to form. 

I wonder if my parents remember this, but the scene is clear to me like it was yesterday.  Mrs. Browne ran a course on Global Humanitarian Development at our high school. That year, it had a field component to Nepal.  The students would raise their own money for travels and be involved with a project while there.  Afterwards, they were required to conduct educational workshops to other classes and community groups on their experience in Nepal.  There was a limited enrollment and an interview process was required to take this course.  When I learned of it, I wanted to be a part of this unique experience.  As any typical Asian 16 year old would do, I asked my parents.  What they said at the time was expected, but it made sense to me as well.  They didn’t say “No,” straight out, if I recalled correctly.  They said the amount of contribution I could make as a high schooler, building a school, digging a road, or taking care of street children in an orphanage would be miniscule.  Wait until I have some tangible skills to offer before I try to go to developing areas.  Disappointed, I accept their reason.  It was a good argument, which I remembered.  Those words would surface once in a while in the years to come as a motivation for me to move forward.  So, I prepared myself. 

I took to the Sciences, hoping that the unique combination of Biochemistry and Behavioural Neuroscience would put me apart from others for Medical school applications.  It fulfilled my interests on human psychological behavior and molecular biology, especially in the realm of infectious diseases.  All the while, I dug deeper.  I experienced what basic science research was like and fully enjoyed it.  I tasted behavioural science research and had a good time as well.  What I took out of my research experience was that many research papers and projects which we spend years and millions of dollars on,  often gets filed away into the world of academic curiosity.  Their importance is irrefutable, but their impact may or may not be felt in the far off future.  Meantime, infant mortality rate and maternal mortality rate is staggering still.  As I revisited the youth internship postings on CIDA website year after year, the words “public health experience”  kept coming  up.  It became clear to me that public health is the area which has the most relevance to my past experience.  A graduate degree in Public Health is the gate to my career.  Like any other sector, people hire people with experience, so where do I get my first work experience working in resource-limited areas?  A masters degree with summer internship would be perfect.  So, here I am, with a year of training under my belt, not knowing a single Telugu word, and a go-for-it attitude, I came for my internship in Hyderabad, India.  My first field visit to the rural villages after hours of transfer from one bus to another auto to another bus through the dusty road, my first interviews with the women empowered by what my organization has been doing, my first interaction with the preschool and school children, these are the places I want to be, the work I want to spend my time doing.  Even not understanding the language, I have embraced the food, the culture, the generosity and the sense of community the people have here.  Though I am assumed as a Nepalese everywhere, I don’t feel out of place, but rather, at peace and comfortable with the people here. 

As the day turned to dusk, I thought of how each step I took through high school, university, co-op jobs and masters training led to my internship here.  I teared up with joy.  I have acquired, what little skills I have, and I am contributing on a bigger scale just as my parents had wanted.  Now the opportunity is here, I just have to use it fully and do my best job ever.   I am thankful to be living, and to be living one of my first formed dreams.

2009_08_15

India’s Independence Day.  On the field, at Porumamilla.  It just rained the night before.  So happy it rained because for the past 3 months, there was no rain and it was getting desperately dry.  The streams were empty, the fields were dry…everything was red like a dusty baking pot.   Last night we were blessed with varsham (Telugu for rain) and I was dancing with the music on my phone in the drizzle. 

This morning, everyone got up early, got ready and the Manga, Naga and Kumari started decorating the entrance floor with chalk.  The put beautiful floral patterns called muggu.  It’s from limestone powder and was believed to ward off sickness. 

Unfortunately the rain came pouring in the late morning and the whole morning’s hard work was washed away. 

The men digged a small hole on the ground and put the flag pole up.  They tied some flower petals into the flag and hoisted it up.  When the ceremony came, the president of the Mandal Samakya pulled the string and the flag unfolded, the petals  came scattering down.  It was really poetic and beautiful.  We started to sing the national song.   Afterwards, we were given snacks and sweets and an Indian flag sticker to put on our clothes.  Very often, I become the curiosity of the group and they would ask me to sing.  I don’t know that many songs from memory, but I know the Canadian national anthem.  I sang it to them and they seemed to like it.   It was nice to witness flag hoisting and India’s independence day on the field.