Village Visits

I have been very busy the last few weeks finalizing my project at work, taking weekend trips with friends, and making some preliminary village visits. I chose one village called Jawahar Nagar where I was going to conduct my project (which I may end up abandoning or cutting very short – it’s a sore subject). Last week I spent three days and two nights there, then returned this week for a two-day, one-night visit.

It is a four hour bus ride to Jawahar Nagar from Udaipur, which I don’t mind at all because I love bus rides in India. The road there is bumpy and dusty, and I take the very hot, crowded local bus full of turbaned farmers with bags of crops and people lunging through the windows to get a good seat every time we stop. The bus drives through miles of dry, arid farmland. We pass through many small, colorful towns with people lounging under the shade of huge banyan trees, and past fields of wheat with makeshift scarecrows wearing bright saris.

My supervisor at work arranged for me to stay with one family she knew in Jawahar Nagar. They were so kind to me and refused to take payment in compensation for my stay there. (I have started bringing them vegetables from the market as a form of payment.) The mother, Kanku Bai, is in her fifties, though she looks much older. She has a very narrow, manly face with thick black eyebrows, and her hair is colored bright orange from soaking it in henna. Her husband is Dhanraj – he is about seventy, and always wears a dhoti and a white undershirt with holes in the shoulder. He is very skinny and had deformed feet, so he mostly sits in the shade and speaks to me in very limited English. He seems to think that the louder he speaks, the more I will understand. So he shouts phrases in English, then repeats them – backwards. Like so:

Dhanraj: India is very poor country!
Me: Hmmm.
Dhanraj: Country, poor, India!
Me: Hmmm.
Dhanraj: Haha! Hindi is language of Hindustan!
Me: Yes, I --
Dhanraj: Hindustan! Language is Hindi!

Otherwise I mostly spoke Hindi during my first visit to Jawahar Nagar, since I went alone. On my second visit, I brought a translator so that I could start conducting interviews. Still, I spoke Hindi when I could and found I could generally get by.

On my first visit, I mostly just hung out with the family so that I could get to know the village and make friends with people there before I started my project. Kanku Bai’s daughter, Mohini, is 19 years old, and I quickly became friends with her. One day we went (with other female neighbors) to the river to wash clothes. As we were waiting for them to dry, we all jumped in the cool water and swam, which was so refreshing and wonderful in the midday heat. Otherwise in the middle of the day, there is nothing to do but nap. From 1pm to 3pm I was always ordered to “take rest,” and I would lie on one of the beds and doze, waking up every ten minutes dripping in sweat.

The nighttimes were cool and pleasant. After dinner (the spiciest vegetables I have ever hd) we all sat around on the patio outside and talked by candlelight. I was lucky enough to sleep on the roof of the house with Mohini and her little cousins. I fell asleep looking at the stars, and later in the night it got cool enough that I could sleep under the thick blankets – a welcome relief from my hot room in Udaipur.

I had a great picture to post but my camera has a virus at the moment. Maybe next time.