After I had finished this contribution, I thought about a couple of more things, especially the absence of photos. This, then is a new start (the original starts with "Just left Ajith ..."). Just had to get the photo of one of the guys on a poster here - Peter Sellers lives! The next shot shows a whole new perspective on OHS as it is practised in India. Finally, and this goes to a comment at the bottom of the blog, here's me in the mundu.
Just left Ajith, who dropped me off at the apartment after mass at the Holy Infant Jesus church, and I'm feeling sufficiently peaceful and reflective to put together some thoughts on the last month. Today has offered a series of moments that serve as touchpoints in this regard, so I will use those occasions to punctuate the thoughts.
My habitual walk in the Sabash Park this morning was a passing parade of now familiar faces and a comment by one of the gentlemen I pass and smile at that "It is a tribute to you that you have made so many friends so quickly". I was quick to reply that it was a tribute to the people of Kochi, who are so friendly and welcoming. He made the observation as I was walking with Suleiman, who was regailing me with the importance of family and a woman who loves and respects (and serves) you. Suleiman divides his time between Kochi and Dubai on the basis of about 40-45 days in Kochi (with his Kerala wife and their two young children) and 15-20 days in Dubai with his first wife and their 6 adult children.
Ummer, Suleiman, Raj, Father, and many other nameless, but nonetheless warm and friendly, denizens of the park, have indeed made me feel welcome and I find the hour between about 7.15am and 8.15am an important anchoring point for the day. Regardless of what the day brings, it has always started off with a series of laps around the park, more or less philosophical discussion (although I should properly put that in " ") and a sense of physical well-being. The park is a sanctuary of sorts (not least because it was established as a garden), where much of the noise of M.G. Road is a goodly distance off. At the same time, depending on the day of the week, of the month (and presumably of the year), we are also exposed to a regular series of quite loud explosions emanating from the Hindu temple across the road.
Part of the reason why I have had no trouble developing an extended set of "nodding acquaintances" has been, I believe, my willingness to employ the head "wobble" as I encounter people (whether in the park or on the street). My head wobble is invariably returned with an acknowledging wobble and, often, a broad expanse of white teeth against the dusky skin of their owners. Whether it's the lady in the supermarket, the police officer standing point duty, or fellow pedestrians just curious about this white guy who's not a tourist (and clearly not a "son of the soil"), the head wobble is guaranteed to bring a positive response (I'm thankful to the author of Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts, for his engaging description of the multiple meanings of the wobble and its value as a point of contact between people; I will be interested to see what kind of job Johnny Depp and his colleagues make of the book in the upcoming movie).
On the way back from the walk, I was nearly brought undone several times by the "variability" of the footpath paving (my Indian friends find my use of the term very polite but also very telling about the state of infrastructure here in Kochi - they are much less reserved in describing it as "poor" and "terrible", having no doubt that the blame for the state of the infrastructure lies at the feet of the politicians at every level, who, according to them, are more interested in filling their own pockets than filling the holes in the road). I made it to the "eco mart" and picked up bananas (and a few less healthy snacks), along with some peanut butter (I haven't found a decent bakery yet, but when I do I'm looking forward to a good old peanut butter sandwich!)
By the time I got to the Imperial Restaurant to get breakfast, it was about 8.45am and I was able to get masala dosa. It's funny that, for the sake of about 15 minutes, I can or can't get my masala dosa in the morning - like McDonald's breakfast, it's from a certain time, to a certain time and, if that's what you want, then you'd better be there at the appointed time. I had the same experience at the megamart with the "checkout chicks" - you can come in before 8.30am and fossick to your heart's content, but don't think you can actually buy anything until the ladies take up their places at the tills at the appointed time, regardless of how long the queues become while people are waiting.
To get to the Imperial this morning, I had to wade through the pool that the road workers were making, pumping what seems to be an unending flow of water from below the surface of the road where they are ostensibly fixing the sewerage system. The road is now fully closed (up till now the road has been "closed" but if you're in a small car or auto, or you're on a bike/motorbike, you could negotiate the puddles and potholes to get from MG Road to Chittoor Road and return). While there is regular activity at the site, there appears to be little evidence of progress and the area looks more like an abandoned series of holes than an actively maintained work site. Sadly, there are many places like this in Kerala, and India generally. I once asked Jay if it was lack of resources or lack of will (or perhaps some combination of the two). I've seen places in China, for example, where a building has gotten so far and then no further work is carried out because the developers have run out of cash, and I wondered if it was the same in India. Jay chose option 3, especially where public works are concerned. He added that there is a sense of "near enough is good enough" that is reflected in the finishing of the works and I was taken back to the Australia of 30 and 40 years ago when there wasn't anything you couldn't "fix" with a 6-inch piece of fencing wire.
The rest of my day has been spend in front of the computer trying to finish up some aspects of websites, playing graphic designer, and a myriad other bits that mean that I don't get to put much of a dent in the 80 emails that I have active on gmail (and more on Outlook). It has been interspersed with hanging up some laundry, putting other laundry away, sweeping the tiled floors (which are lovely and cool, but are easily covered in dust) and several outbursts of almost hysterical scratching of the itches that appear to have no source, but must be the result of what can only be "stealth" mosquitoes and mites. I am generally happy in my own company and so, as long as the work is there to do (and my computer doesn't get overheated and go funny on me), I just get on with it. This has two parts to it.
One is the sheer amount of work involved in a start-up organisation of any kind (add the directors operating at a distance, and a new culture/language/town etc and the complexity goes up, just a tad). No matter how much I manage to get through, there's always more there to be done. I need to be very careful that I don't burn myself out before the job's done and do take time for myself (I can hear Kerry laughing from here, when I say that!). For example, Suleiman had invited me to join him at the Abad Plaza to go swimming today but I felt I had to "beg off" so that I could sort out some of these issues. I'm hoping that the sheer level of work and the deadlines will reduce (at the same time as the people resources increase).
The other is the matter of being happy in my own company. While that's true, the communication facilities that a laptop with a data card and programs like Skype, Messenger and facebook are absolutely critical for me not to feel alone in the world. The very existence of this blog is a means of communicating with myself, but also to give family, friends, colleagues and anyone else with an interest, a sense of my experiences here. I never knock back a skype call or a 'g'day' from someone on messenger, and I'm grateful that that kind of communication can be had and measured in nanoseconds rather than weeks, months and years. Earlier today I was responding to a friend's query about how much I had known about Indian culture before I arrived, because it seemed I had taken to being here, "like a duck to water". I include my reply at this point:
I've always been conscious of "culture" from the time we arrived in Australia and I understood that there were Pommie bastards, wogs, spicks, dagos, etc. I realised that, if I was being given shit for being a different kind of white guy, imagine what it would be like for someone who's really different. Having taught in Singapore, Malaysia, China, Hong Kong, and Sri Lanka over many years, as well as dealing with folks from different cultures in Sydney, I've tried to engage with each of the different cultures with which I've come in contact. Living in India is the next point in a series of successive approximations, from eating Indian. working with Indian colleagues and students, having an Indian sister-in-law (my brother Kevin is married to Natalie from Mumbai), visiting India on Emerald publishing work. So this little black duck does feel comfortable (apart from the mozzies which are continuing to give me buggery - one of the founders, who is also a medical doctor, has commented that I must be a "sweetie": someone the mozzies just love to chew on).
And so dear reader, these are some of my reflections on a month here in India. It's time to head over to the Imperial and see what delights await for dinner (methinks chappathi and tomato fry ... just for a change :-) )
My habitual walk in the Sabash Park this morning was a passing parade of now familiar faces and a comment by one of the gentlemen I pass and smile at that "It is a tribute to you that you have made so many friends so quickly". I was quick to reply that it was a tribute to the people of Kochi, who are so friendly and welcoming. He made the observation as I was walking with Suleiman, who was regailing me with the importance of family and a woman who loves and respects (and serves) you. Suleiman divides his time between Kochi and Dubai on the basis of about 40-45 days in Kochi (with his Kerala wife and their two young children) and 15-20 days in Dubai with his first wife and their 6 adult children.
Ummer, Suleiman, Raj, Father, and many other nameless, but nonetheless warm and friendly, denizens of the park, have indeed made me feel welcome and I find the hour between about 7.15am and 8.15am an important anchoring point for the day. Regardless of what the day brings, it has always started off with a series of laps around the park, more or less philosophical discussion (although I should properly put that in " ") and a sense of physical well-being. The park is a sanctuary of sorts (not least because it was established as a garden), where much of the noise of M.G. Road is a goodly distance off. At the same time, depending on the day of the week, of the month (and presumably of the year), we are also exposed to a regular series of quite loud explosions emanating from the Hindu temple across the road.
Part of the reason why I have had no trouble developing an extended set of "nodding acquaintances" has been, I believe, my willingness to employ the head "wobble" as I encounter people (whether in the park or on the street). My head wobble is invariably returned with an acknowledging wobble and, often, a broad expanse of white teeth against the dusky skin of their owners. Whether it's the lady in the supermarket, the police officer standing point duty, or fellow pedestrians just curious about this white guy who's not a tourist (and clearly not a "son of the soil"), the head wobble is guaranteed to bring a positive response (I'm thankful to the author of Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts, for his engaging description of the multiple meanings of the wobble and its value as a point of contact between people; I will be interested to see what kind of job Johnny Depp and his colleagues make of the book in the upcoming movie).
On the way back from the walk, I was nearly brought undone several times by the "variability" of the footpath paving (my Indian friends find my use of the term very polite but also very telling about the state of infrastructure here in Kochi - they are much less reserved in describing it as "poor" and "terrible", having no doubt that the blame for the state of the infrastructure lies at the feet of the politicians at every level, who, according to them, are more interested in filling their own pockets than filling the holes in the road). I made it to the "eco mart" and picked up bananas (and a few less healthy snacks), along with some peanut butter (I haven't found a decent bakery yet, but when I do I'm looking forward to a good old peanut butter sandwich!)
By the time I got to the Imperial Restaurant to get breakfast, it was about 8.45am and I was able to get masala dosa. It's funny that, for the sake of about 15 minutes, I can or can't get my masala dosa in the morning - like McDonald's breakfast, it's from a certain time, to a certain time and, if that's what you want, then you'd better be there at the appointed time. I had the same experience at the megamart with the "checkout chicks" - you can come in before 8.30am and fossick to your heart's content, but don't think you can actually buy anything until the ladies take up their places at the tills at the appointed time, regardless of how long the queues become while people are waiting.
To get to the Imperial this morning, I had to wade through the pool that the road workers were making, pumping what seems to be an unending flow of water from below the surface of the road where they are ostensibly fixing the sewerage system. The road is now fully closed (up till now the road has been "closed" but if you're in a small car or auto, or you're on a bike/motorbike, you could negotiate the puddles and potholes to get from MG Road to Chittoor Road and return). While there is regular activity at the site, there appears to be little evidence of progress and the area looks more like an abandoned series of holes than an actively maintained work site. Sadly, there are many places like this in Kerala, and India generally. I once asked Jay if it was lack of resources or lack of will (or perhaps some combination of the two). I've seen places in China, for example, where a building has gotten so far and then no further work is carried out because the developers have run out of cash, and I wondered if it was the same in India. Jay chose option 3, especially where public works are concerned. He added that there is a sense of "near enough is good enough" that is reflected in the finishing of the works and I was taken back to the Australia of 30 and 40 years ago when there wasn't anything you couldn't "fix" with a 6-inch piece of fencing wire.
The rest of my day has been spend in front of the computer trying to finish up some aspects of websites, playing graphic designer, and a myriad other bits that mean that I don't get to put much of a dent in the 80 emails that I have active on gmail (and more on Outlook). It has been interspersed with hanging up some laundry, putting other laundry away, sweeping the tiled floors (which are lovely and cool, but are easily covered in dust) and several outbursts of almost hysterical scratching of the itches that appear to have no source, but must be the result of what can only be "stealth" mosquitoes and mites. I am generally happy in my own company and so, as long as the work is there to do (and my computer doesn't get overheated and go funny on me), I just get on with it. This has two parts to it.
One is the sheer amount of work involved in a start-up organisation of any kind (add the directors operating at a distance, and a new culture/language/town etc and the complexity goes up, just a tad). No matter how much I manage to get through, there's always more there to be done. I need to be very careful that I don't burn myself out before the job's done and do take time for myself (I can hear Kerry laughing from here, when I say that!). For example, Suleiman had invited me to join him at the Abad Plaza to go swimming today but I felt I had to "beg off" so that I could sort out some of these issues. I'm hoping that the sheer level of work and the deadlines will reduce (at the same time as the people resources increase).
The other is the matter of being happy in my own company. While that's true, the communication facilities that a laptop with a data card and programs like Skype, Messenger and facebook are absolutely critical for me not to feel alone in the world. The very existence of this blog is a means of communicating with myself, but also to give family, friends, colleagues and anyone else with an interest, a sense of my experiences here. I never knock back a skype call or a 'g'day' from someone on messenger, and I'm grateful that that kind of communication can be had and measured in nanoseconds rather than weeks, months and years. Earlier today I was responding to a friend's query about how much I had known about Indian culture before I arrived, because it seemed I had taken to being here, "like a duck to water". I include my reply at this point:
I've always been conscious of "culture" from the time we arrived in Australia and I understood that there were Pommie bastards, wogs, spicks, dagos, etc. I realised that, if I was being given shit for being a different kind of white guy, imagine what it would be like for someone who's really different. Having taught in Singapore, Malaysia, China, Hong Kong, and Sri Lanka over many years, as well as dealing with folks from different cultures in Sydney, I've tried to engage with each of the different cultures with which I've come in contact. Living in India is the next point in a series of successive approximations, from eating Indian. working with Indian colleagues and students, having an Indian sister-in-law (my brother Kevin is married to Natalie from Mumbai), visiting India on Emerald publishing work. So this little black duck does feel comfortable (apart from the mozzies which are continuing to give me buggery - one of the founders, who is also a medical doctor, has commented that I must be a "sweetie": someone the mozzies just love to chew on).
And so dear reader, these are some of my reflections on a month here in India. It's time to head over to the Imperial and see what delights await for dinner (methinks chappathi and tomato fry ... just for a change :-) )
No comments:
Post a Comment