Posted on December 19, 2016 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

The Corniche – Abu Dhabi UAE

Let me get this out of the way quickly. I do not DESERVE a one week vacation in Abu Dhabi. While I appreciate the sentiments of many of you ( and the cheap shots for me posting that picture of the 7^th. floor pool and hot tub! ), I certainly haven’t done anything in India to merit this brief hiatus. The people who really deserve a break and never get one, are the poor… in India and everywhere else on this planet. Many of us are just plain lucky that an “ accident of birth” gave us the lifestyle we enjoy including plentiful water, clean air, good food and security.

I’m like many of you. I cringe ( too polite a word?! ) sometimes when I see pictures that people send back home from vacations and exotic destinations… especially in winter.  Very often the inclination is to tell them to go and pound sand. The images that I have been sending the last few days from Abu Dhabi are not to evoke envy. They are simply to show the stark and shocking contrast between a fabulously rich country and one that is still an emerging economy.  

When I planned this little mini vacation, I went to one of those discount brokers and booked three legs of the trip at once. The first leg, from Hyderabad to Abu Dhabi was with Etihad Airlines. Of course, having never travelled in this part of the world, I had never seen the name before. Well, ignorance is bliss, as they say. My first thought was that this was a small regional carrier and that as long as I arrived safely, then I would tolerate any hiccups. Excuse me. This is THE airlines of the United Arab Emirates.

The four hour flight was hands down, the best flying experience… ever. This could very well have been this airplane’s  ( Airbus 320  ) inaugural flight. The interior was spotless and the flight attendants were simply glamorous. An hour into the flight, the passengers were presented with a menu card for a hot meal. I kept looking for the price. Everything on the flight was free. Headsets ( high quality ), food and beverages were all included in the price. My guess is that the plane was only a third full and I had no one beside me, in front of me, behind me or across the aisle. It was like having my own plane. The movie selection was amazing. If you ever have a chance to fly Etihad, I highly recommend it.

Many of you know Matt MacDonald ( We Move This Town ). He has been living in Abu Dhabi for a few years and invited me to come and hang out with him for a week. He and his friend live in this amazing apartment complex. The owner of this building ( and many others ) , keeps part of his “fleet “ of vehicles outside the front door… two Rolls Royce and a Bentley. I don’t think our Yaris would fit in very well over here! Lo and behold, one of Matt’s neighbors is a Nova Scotian who just happened to be leaving for home when I arrived. She graciously gave me the use of her 39^th. floor apartment. After the constant din of India, the silence was deafening when I crawled into bed the first night of my stay. Thanks so much, Pauline for the use of your place!

There is an amazing walkway along the waterfront. The Corniche is 8 kilometers ( one way ) and I plan to do a return trip every day of my stay.

On Saturday, Matt showed me around the city. It is spotlessly clean and you can almost taste the wealth. We went to a fruit and vegetable market that was simply gargantuan. We loaded up on persimmons, dates and bananas. You would not believe how many different varieties of dates that are grown in the Middle East and how many vendors sell them. There are even chocolate covered dates which the owner of one shop insisted that we sample. We complied! We also bought some freshly ground Turkish coffee at this wonderful coffee emporium. I hurried home and made some in Pauline’s French press. After drinking mediocre coffee for the better part of two months in India, this was a real treat.

Late in the afternoon, we went for a walk. On our way home, we took a short cut through a parking lot. I looked at some people exiting their vehicle and did a double take. In a city of 2.5 million people, in a random parking lot, I was facing Danny and Pat Berry, their two daughters and a friend. Before we sold our house on Ross Street a year and a half ago, we lived about 150 yards away from the Berrys  whose  home is on Whidden Street. What are the statistical odds of meeting friends from home, in a parking lot half way around the world?  If Matt and I hadn’t stopped at a Mall and posed for a picture with Santa ( photo coming !), we would have missed this chance encounter. Those of you are friends of Danny and Pat know that they recently relocated to Abu Dhabi after three years in China.

It’s a small world after all.

Oh yes, the ATM’s in Abu Dhabi work just fine. It felt amazing to simply walk up to an ATM and 1) not see a two hour lineup or 2) see a sign that says “ no cash.”  I have switched from rupees to dirhams. One dirham is the equivalent to .36 cents Canadian.

As you scurry around this week leading up to Christmas, take a moment to ponder your good fortune.

Have a great week. Easy on the eggnog!

P.S. Look for my very first podcast coming soon.

 

 

Posted on December 15, 2016 under Faces in the Crowd with no comments yet

A big man with a big heart

“ My greatest wish is that we can give our children the skills to better their lives.”

Meet Balaraju.

The youngest of three siblings born to Narsamma and Veeraiah in Gagillapur, India, hard work has been the hallmark of Balaraju’s life,  starting at a very early age. His parents weren’t all that interested in educating their children. Chores around the family home took precedence. A teacher by the name of Rachael encouraged him to enrol and through his own initiative, he began his educational journey.

In the eleventh and twelfth levels, his focus was mainly on sciences: biology , physics and chemistry but deep down, he knew that this wasn’t the direction he wanted to go. He was profoundly affected during his eighth level by the Mandal president at the time, Gnaneswar Mudiraj. He was enthralled by his speeches and his community activism. Balaraju even volunteered to assist the president for a number of years.

He entered the Bachelor of Arts program  at Osmania University as he now had his sights clearly set on community development and local politics. Regrettably, he had to drop out of the program in the 13^th. level due to family problems and a lack of money.

For six years he worked as a milk vendor getting up at 3:00 in the morning to go area farms to pick up milk and deliver it to the depot. The hours were long and the work was hard. In 1996 , he married Pushpa and the couple have two children: a son, Pavan and a daughter, Sowmya.

 Even though the milk business provided a steady income for the family, politics was in his blood so it was no surprise that he decided to run for the office of village president in 2006. Despite being outspent by a margin of three to one in the election campaign, Balaraju came out on top.

He realized that his community needed a lot of help to raise the standard of living. He knocked on a lot of doors of companies doing business in the area. He managed to secure money for a water storage sump. He also realized that these same companies were also contributing something else that was far less desirable: pollution. He made his case, stood his ground and extracted commitments from these companies to improve air and water quality.

He recognized that  a healthy community contributes to a prosperous community and so he worked very hard to improve health standards. This required a great deal of public education. His bold, dynamic personality and strong work ethic made him a well respected leader in the village.

When his term of office expired, he stayed involved in the community and remains so until this day. He is quick to point out that in order for the village to continue to move forward, that interventions from organizations like MAS are crucial. “ Our people need to be empowered to speak up for themselves and MAS is giving us the necessary tools to do this, “ he commented. “ Mas has helped in so many ways including oversight on infrastructure projects and working closely with groups in the community to build capacities. At the end of the day, we must become  masters of our own destiny.”

Balaraju is a social worker  at heart and continues to fight for basic amenities that many places take for granted. “ My big dream is to see the day when we have a modern sewage treatment plant, “ he said.

Don’t be fooled by his warmth, his firm handshake and his easy smile. Behind that veil is a man consumed with passion to make his community the best it can be.

Posted on December 13, 2016 under Storytelling with 2 comments

Tharun. The Michaelangelo of barbers

I entered this world bald and it looks like I’ll exit it in the same fashion.

After seven weeks in India, even someone who is “follically challenged” like me,  begins to look a bit scruffy. The little hair that I have,  starts to sprout in weird ways and the nape of my neck resembles the fuzz on an over ripe peach. Now, I am not so vain as to worry about my appearance but every now and then, I decide to make a donation to the haircutting fraternity.

In order to get to my favorite breakfast establishment, I have to pass through a neighborhood dotted with small shops. These are very common in India. Most of them resemble a concrete bunker and are not much bigger than a baby barn. In one block there could easily be 100 of these side by side. And there is every manner of commerce conducted  within the three walls. At the end of the day, they pull down a retractable door like you might find in a garage back home.

On any given day and in just about any neighborhood, you can find steel fabricators, mattress makers, woodworkers, pharmacies, motorcycle repair shops  and  food vendors. Name any business and you will find someone who can provide you with goods and services.  If you want a  farm fresh chicken for an evening meal,  you can pick a live one and have it processed while you wait! All of these people work very long hours, sometimes well into the evening. And they are very talented.

One of the businesses that I pass at least once a day is a barber shop which looks like it may have been there from the day Hyderabad was settled hundreds of years ago. Peering in from the street, which is only a few feet from the front door, the space appears very small indeed. When the aforementioned scruffiness finally got to me, I had to make a choice. Do I go to the City Centre Mall and visit an upscale “ unisex” salon or do I keep my business closer to home. I am not a big fan of malls so I opted for a trip to “ Beauteous Men’s Parlour.”

There was one barber on duty. He was doing some serious styling to the patron in the chair while three of us in line read the daily paper or watched  television. It was 10:00 a.m. and I had a one hour window as I was meeting a friend for lunch at noon and this was a 50 minute walk from the barbershop. I was amazed at the attention to detail as this master barber applied gel and talent in equal abundance. At 10:15, it was decision time. If the other two guys in front of me received the same royal treatment, I wouldn’t even make it for dessert, let alone lunch. Just then, a second barber appeared and there was a glimmer of hope. Optimism turned to joy as the other barber finished up and the other two guys were obviously “regulars” of the senior barber.

I hopped in the chair. The sign on the wall said “ Haircut: 100 rs.” ( 100 rupees is the equivalent of $2.00 Canadian ).

I purposely didn’t shave earlier that morning and decided that I would go whole hog so I ordered up a haircut and a shave.  Cue the music: “ Shave and a haircut, two bits.” I didn’t inquire about the price of the shave. It wouldn’t have mattered as my barber , Tharun, spoke not a word of English.

Let’s be very generous and say that the haircutting portion of the job took ten minutes. Ok. Maybe seven. But I noticed immediately how meticulous Tharun was , as he clipped and snipped away. He tilted the chair back and repositioned my head. I spied the straight razor.

Tharun is young and very muscular. I’m certain he must lift weights. He poured a bit of lotion into his large mitts and began massaging my face. In 65 + years, no one has ever massaged my face with the possible exception of a face rub by an opposing hockey player while playing for the Bulldogs.  I wasn’t sure what was happening but I have learned to just roll with the punches. The gentle massage became stronger with each new application of the cool lotion. Suddenly, the shrill sounds coming from the soap opera on the television set and the ever present traffic noise didn’t seem as loud. The massaging continued for at least 15 minutes. I was wondering ( worrying? )  if I was going to pay for the shave by the minute. I was almost asleep when he took his hands away from my face.

I have never been to a spa but I started to understand the appeal.

Finally, he applied some shaving cream and he started removing facial hair. Slowly. Carefully. Precisely. I’m sure Michaelangelo  didn’t take as much care sculpting the statue of David. It seemed like he treasured every hair and was removing them individually. I opened my eyes. All of a sudden my inner calm was arrested when I looked at the clock and saw that it was 10:50. I didn’t say anything as he gently wiped the residual shaving cream off my face. When he once again grabbed the can of Gillette, I knew that my lunch date was in peril.

The second round with the scalpel was short and sweet. He then applied some after shave and I nearly hit the ceiling. I had completely forgotten what that felt like having given away my last bottle of Old Spice when I got married.

And now, the moment of reckoning had arrived. He held up 2 fingers. I wasn’t sure if that was a peace sign or the tab. The total bill for 45 minutes in the chair,  one of the most amazing experiences of my life, came to 200 rupees or about $4.00. Even with a hefty 25 % tip, I still only paid $5.00 for the full meal deal.

I didn’t have time to go back to my residence to get changed for my lunch date. I walked as fast as my legs could carry me in 32 degree heat and arrived at the restaurant looking like I had just run the Boston Marathon.

Upon questioning of my somewhat dishevelled look, I grinned at my friend and simply indicated that I just had a close shave.