Kolkata, accomodation and work

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  Kolkata (Calcutta), West Bengal, India
Sunday, December 14, 2008

Sabatri and I are getting along well. We have long detailed conversations, she in Bengali, me in English. We drop in our common phrases, she does elaborate facial expressions and I do some interesting mime work and we seem to come to successful conclusions. She is very good-humoured and laughs and shakes her head after all of our conversations, and is always pleased when I drop in the 'ah-chay' at the end of the conversation. I have learnt some further Bengali (Bangla) terms.

Teak-ah-chay: This means variously - I understand, do you understand, that will work, yes - okay, yes - I agree, it's coming together, spot-on, it's alright, alright?
Ah-chay: Depending on situation - Good, yes, okay, you're right, I understand, oh I see, end of conversation agreement
Didi: Term of affection and respect - Sister/Auntie
-di: On the end of a name, term of respect - Big sister/Auntie
No-mosh-kar: Hello/Goodbye
Haa: with sharp sideways tilt of head - Yes
Naa: No
K'omen A'chen: How are you
B'a-loh: Very fine
Aap-na/tu-mi naam key: (older/younger) what is your name?
D'oh-no-baad: Thank you
Ch'olo! Let's go!
Mish-ti: Sweets (funny that I should learn that term so quickly!)
And of course the famous Indian head waggle - it's profolific, nuanced and occasion-specific. Can mean, amongst many other things: Do you get me? I get you, I don't get you, I agree, I don't really agree, I don't understand, you're almost right, let me think about it, le me make you think I'm thinking about it, we-eelll, I don't want to say it but 'no', I'm pleased to see you/hear that, that's right, we are having a good time.

A typical conversation between Sabatri and I involves me using ridiculous combinations of these words ("Nomoshkar Sabatri. Newspaper haa? Oh newspaper naa? Why newspaper naa? Er, newspaper haa breakfast, teakachay? Naa? Teakachay, newspaper dinner haa? Achay! No no wait, newspaper ever? (mime mime mime) Okay...newspaper breakfast dinner haa...haa? D'ohnobaad!") and a whole lot of patience and wondering what's going on. Getting our newspaper system working was a feat, but it worked out in the end. Actually, going through this process helped me figure out the newspaper deilvery service in India. From Delhi through Jaipur to Kolkara I'd heard the same morning call, not realising what it was. Thanks to Sabatri the distinctive noise is no longer a msytery! A lone figure rides his bike and cart up and down the streets in the morning, echoinh his newspaper boy call throughout the township. Nothing I can capture here can do this call any justice, but to my ignorant ears it sounds a little like this - "Por favoooouuuuuuuuuuuuurr. OhpapernowpapergitcharpaperyourpaperyourpaaaaPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER."
Obviously this is a mix of Spanish and English so it's probably not what they are saying.

I started at Ankur Kala last Monday, and had a day off on Tuesday because of the Muslim holiday of Eid. It wasn't until Thursday that all the women started trickling back and I began to become more friendly with them and get into the working side of the organisation a bit more. I have made a couple of rookie faux pas, such as accepting food with my right hand and not being able to help the soles of my foot point at people during our morning yoga, but I think I've been forgiven for those. Ankur Kala is a very inspirational organisation, and I'm so happy to have found it here. Annie Josephs is the organiser and leader of the place, and she began it more than 20 years ago after doing her masters in social science and working for a time in the City of Joy (which is a famous slum here). Ankur Kala (say Ankoor Kula) helps abused/poor/forgotten women and single mothers to gain self-respect, confidence and dignity by training them and letting them reap the benefits of selling and supplying the various handicrafts they make. There is a canteen section that produces food for colleges, schools and other NGO's around the area, a jams, sauce and pickles department that makes very tasty products that are sold in the showroom and at exhibitions around the state, and baatik, stitching, tie and dye, silk-screen printing and drawing areas that all create beautiful pieces that sell very well. Ankur Kala instills a very strong work ethic in it's women - they all work very hard. The women all complete a two year training course, during which they receive a salary, meals during the day and the support of the centre and reading, writing and English language education. After this many women go on to become organisers, trainers or succesful business-women on their own. It also sets them up on a very good social network - something that is most important in India, where your family and friends are everything.

The women all seem to be young, my age and younger. They call me didi, and watch me constantly. They are very shy to use their English skills, but they understand more than they speak and we can usually manage to have small conversations. I want so much to ask them about their lives, about how they feel about the city and what Ankur Kala does, about their experiences of being a woman in India (it's my gender degree coming out in me) but they are tough concepts to get across. Annie and I speak about it and she's informative. She tells me what so many other people have said - it's so hard to get change started. The government is so corrupt that funds start out big and dwindle away to nothing as people take their cut. People insist on baksheesh (bribes) and refuse to do simple things until money is exchanged. Bureaucracy and red tape prevent assistance getting through, and the Government don't do enough for the people who really need the help - there are lots of cracks and lots of people slip right through.

Fatima and Mumeta are teo of the youngest girls there, and they give me big bright smiles and giggle when I ask them questions. Shiboni-di is an older organiser who is very stern, she's always commanding me - sit! trace! peel! Banani is a social worker there and her English is great, she helps me to organise my day. Parboti is in the canteen, Maria is in the JSP department, Fay helps with administration...There are so many more women, and I'm glad I'm getting to meet the other half of India, finally. Walking down the streets of Kolkata sometimes I feel like the only woman in the city; there's only men around. One of the women brought in her 5 year old daughter Anisha on Thursday. Anisha doesn't speak, just makes various sounds. I'm not a speech therapist (well, obviously...) but I think that early intervention would have helped her a lot. She speaks in a form of very basic sign language, but is obviously very bright. She has the lowest self confidence I have every seen in a child. I hand her a piece of paper when she kneels down beside me but she won't draw, just stares at the paper and mimes 'no' at me. I draw a little face, and she copies it three times. Where's India's thriving economy now?

Sucharita, my in-country co-ordinator, had some bad news on the day I arrived - her husband had died during surgery. I had only heard wonderful things about her form the other ex-volunteers, how warm and cheerful and friendly she was, so it's sad to hear that she's really going through a bad time. She's been very helpful to me and shown me as much as she can but it's got to be hard for her. It's lucky I've been in India for a while already so I've got a fair idea of what to do - and what not to do!

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