Posted on February 11, 2017 under Storytelling with 2 comments

 

The wheels on the bus go round and round

 

The quest was simple enough. Hop on a bus and travel 23 kilometers to the town of Nagercoil, India to try and find some coffee, fit for human consumption. Prior to leaving Canada last October, I pondered all of the challenges that I might encounter. Was I worried about malaria, dengue fever, war, insurrection, typhoon or tsunami? Not for a minute. No. As a self- professed coffee snob, I was worried most about the availability of good coffee. With the supply of Just Us coffee from home and a few pounds of Turkish dark roast from Abu Dhabi nearing extinction, it was time for action.

 A friend purchased a bag of store bought coffee awhile back. When I finally ran out of the good stuff, I was forced to use it. Desperate times call for desperate measures. The words ” fresh ground” took on a whole new meaning when I took the first mouthful. It indeed tasted just like fresh ground.

My friends, Ninian and Carol have travelled by bus to Nagercoil on numerous occasions and as they were going there again, I decided to tag along to learn the ropes about bus travel in India. When I inquired about the departure time, my friends told me that we would find out when we got to the station, such is the unpredictable nature of travel in India.

We didn’t have to wait long before boarding our bus but before we did, I noticed a curious looking cleaning crew. With the windows of the bus wide open, crows hovered inside and outside waiting to see if there might be some crumbs lying around. As we stepped onto the bus, I happened to peer at the tires. I am bald but I can tell you that there was far more hair on my head than tread on those tires. The look of the driver’s seat, steering column and dashboard made it appear than the bus was a gift from the new government when it achieved independence 67 years ago.

The bus was not crowded when we left the terminal but slowly it filled along the route. It wasn’t a tough decision to give up my seat to an elderly lady as my knees were pressed up against my chin. By Indian standards the bus wasn’t crowded but if you were just a smidgen claustrophobic or you didn’t like saunas, then this is a mode of travel you might want to avoid.

Ninian and Carol hopped off the bus a few stops before the main terminal in Nagercoil. Prior to leaving the convent, I had taken a picture of my last bag of coffee which showed coffee beans. Even with the language issue, I figured that the picture would make communications much easier. Wrong. I showed it to everybody with a mile radius and many looked puzzled as if they were viewing abstract art. I had several “ hot leads” but I finally realized that it was not to be and would be ordering my coffee on line.

I wandered back to the bus terminal. I decided to go home right away rather than wait for Ninian and Carol. Because of its strategic location, this is a large terminal and not easy to figure out if you’re a first timer like me. I didn’t count them but it looked like there were fifty bays for the buses to arrive and depart. However, because of the sheer volume of buses, the parking lot is used for picking up and dropping off passengers. If you’ve ever been to Disney in Orlando Florida, it resembled on of their mammoth parking lots.

There was no ticket booth ( you buy your ticket on the bus ) and all but one of the signs above the bays were in Tamil except one. It said Kanyakumari. I leapt for joy. I figured that they might have had to arrange a search and rescue party to find me wandering aimlessly in the parking lot after several days of being on the missing person’s list.

There was a short queue of people at the platform and even though it seemed like a stupid question, I pointed to the sign and asked the person in front of me, “ Is this the bus stop for Kanyakumari?” Several people nodded. Another curiosity about people from India?  They have a peculiar way of nodding. It’s more of a swivel and you’re never sure if they’re agreeing or disagreeing with you.

The bus pulled up into the bay. Just to be sure, I asked the driver if the bus was going to Kanyakumari. His nod was a definite “No.” He pointed to the immense parking lot. My translation was , “ it’s over there in the middle of all that chaos. Good luck.” Now the parking lot area resembled an ant hill that had been kicked by a couple of nasty young boys. There were people running in all directions trying to catch their buses. Someone pointed me towards my bus. Once again, I engaged the bus driver, as I stood beside his bus ,underneath his window. His arms were flailing and I honestly couldn’t make head nor tail of what he was trying to tell me. He finally waved me off . It is a good thing I moved because a second after his warning, he expelled a stream of orangey red saliva very close to my feet. He pointed to the back of the bus. I got on.

The bus was just about to depart when the ticket agent informed me that this was NOT the bus to Kanyakumari. I was expelled… like the saliva. It took several more tries before I was convinced that the unmarked bus stand underneath a lamp pole, was indeed good old bus #303. Several dozens of us clambered on. The bus moved a grand total of two feet when the driver abruptly turned off the engine. We were instructed to get off. Several dozen of us clambered off the bus into a replacement bus.

I was told later that this was all quite normal. Business as usual, as they say. The replacement bus might have been a millennium gift as it was very modern with good tires, reclining seats and plenty of leg room. For some reason I felt drowsy and closed my eyes as we exited the terminal. In the blink of an eye, we arrived at the terminal. Had I slept so soundly for 45 minutes in the middle of the day? No. The bus went around the block and returned to the terminal that we had just left. Several people got off the bus and several more got on. Sorry folks. I have no explanation for this bizarre sequence of events.

We finally got out on to the open roads. I put my head on the head rest and a warm breeze blew through the window. I had my eyes closed as I tried to recreate the previous half hour of my life. And just like that, my face was covered in hay. As the bus passed two large hay wagons, some of their contents dislodged and started coming through the windows.

The cost of travel to and from Nagercoil? 19 rupees or about .58 cents. Yes. For that princely sum, I could have gone to a local coffee shop and purchased four cups of Indian coffee but I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun.

Even though the trip was slightly chaotic, it wasn’t too much of a grind.

 

 

Posted on February 9, 2017 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

 

“Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.”

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Samuel Taylor Coleridge

 

Water.

Is it possible to transform the lives of an entire community?

In a word, yes.

For most people, water is an afterthought. We turn on the tap and out comes clean water, hot and cold and plentiful. We use it for drinking, cooking, cleaning, bathing, for toilets and doing our laundry. About the only time we really notice it is when our towns or cities are fixing a problematic water line or flushing the lines. We are mildly inconvenienced for a few hours while the necessary repairs/maintenance are carried out. We hear the comforting swoosh as the water is turned back on and after a few minutes of discoloration, we’re back in business.

There are many places in the world where getting water is a major undertaking every day of the year. In some cases, people have to travel significant distances from home to get water and then have to lug it back.

 The leprosy community is next door to the Daughters of Mary. The Sisters support these people who were afflicted by this terrible disease years ago. The good news is that the community has an abundant supply of clean drinking water. It comes from storage tanks on site and is transported to ten outdoor taps scattered throughout the village. The problem is that these 10 taps serve 60 families. There are no indoor water taps. That means that most people have to leave their homes and travel a distance to fill their jugs. The distance, albeit short, wouldn’t be a big deal for most individuals.

Amputations amongst people with leprosy, is common and very often it is the hands and feet that are the areas of the body most affected. Poor eyesight is another symptom of the disease.  Going to get water is much more complicated for these people. Having a water tap outside every home would make this aspect of daily life so much easier and would be one very small step on the way to independent and dignified living.

Fifty taps. $100 per tap. $5,000 in total. A drop in the bucket.

I am asking you to consider a contribution to make this a reality. You can buy one or more taps yourself  or perhaps partner with friends in your book club , alumni organization, coffee clutch or professional association. If you have a big extended family, maybe they could pool their resources and take this on as a project. I can’t think of anything that is more basic or more necessary in this circumstance.

It’s time “to turn on the taps.”

Next Thursday, my Faces in the Crowd story will be about John Ponnya, one of the residents in the leprosy community. I sat with John the other evening to hear his story and to try and understand what goes on inside the head of someone who has been discarded, cast out of his own home when diagnosed, marginalized and reduced to begging. This story is not about pity. It is about understanding. For someone who has had a life unimaginable to us, he still has a glimmer in his eyes and he has a good sense of humour. We shared some laughter through an interpreter.

Count your blessings and have a great week.

P.S. A few of you have been having problems with e-transfers. When you go into your on line banking and click on “interac e – transfers” ( or something similar ), would you please add the “ Daughters of Mary” as “ new recipient” and double check the e-mail address. A few folks have mistakenly used the incorrect e-mail address. The correct address is : investmentindia2017@gmail.com. There is no “in” between the words investment and india. I am still receiving transfers daily so I know the system is working. If you retry and are unsuccessful, could you please send me the name of your financial institution… just the name? I want to see if there might be one particular bank with whom we are having the issue and then we can try and resolve this. Really appreciative of your support… and patience.

Posted on February 6, 2017 under Monday Morning Musings with 2 comments

Silk shawls for the dignitaries

Our fundraising campaign for the Daughters of Mary in Southern India has reached the 25 % mark. Thanks very much for your generosity. There is still lots of time to give, now or in the future. It’s easy. Just follow this link to my webpage.  http://www.week45.com/supporting-the-daughters-of-mary-in-india/

I was having dinner the other evening with a group of strangers. I was the only non-Indian person at the table. They were surprised when I refused to take the knife and fork offered to me. I am so used to eating with my right hand that it will take some getting used to when I get back to Canada. When I announced that I was from Canada, one of my hosts coined a new term. He called me a Canindian!

Speaking of Indians, I never tire of seeing sarees ( saris ). It seems that everyone of them is different. When I go to mass with the Sisters at a local church in the morning, I find myself distracted looking at the dazzling array of colors. I must say that one of the things I miss most from home is singing in the choir at St. Ninian’s Cathedral. Those of us fortunate to spend time in “the loft” recognize and appreciate the genius of James MacPherson. None of the choirs here sing in harmony. It is all congregational singing. Nothing wrong with that but when you are accustomed to harmony, it’s not quite the same thing.

And speaking of matters religious, I was told by a local priest that the heads of all of the religions in Kanyakumari met recently to discuss noise pollution as religious groups are amongst the worst offenders. Things get started very early in the morning here, usually around 5:00 a.m. There are an incredible number of temples, mosques and churches in such a small area and most, if not all, feel the need to blast their ceremonies through speakers at the highest possible decibel level. I suppose you get used to it eventually but I must say that it is one thing that I find grates on the nerves.

After three months in India, I am pleased to say that I have found a secure and reliable supply of fresh coffee. One of the guests at our B@B told me about this shop in a small town near Chennai ( several hundred kilometers from here ) that has wonderful coffee which they ship all over the world through an online store. I thought I’d give it a try. They replied very promptly to my request and two days later I received my shipment by courier. The coffee , like so many other things, is much cheaper than home. And the shipping charges? Ninety-four ( 94 rs. ) rupees or approximately $1.88. The coffee is awesome. I will definitely survive my last three months in India!

I was one of the guest speakers at a gathering of the “Lovers of English Society,” a group of retired and active university professors ( including a president or two ) and other professionals in the neighboring town of Nagercoil. They gather once a month to speak English and pick a different topic, along with a guest speaker. The topic this particular evening was demonetization. Anyone following my travels in India are well aware of the chaos caused when the Indian government, removed 85% of the currency from circulation overnight back on November 8^th. The group was interested in getting a perspective from a foreign visitor. The other speaker was a retired U.N. Ambassador who happens to be an economist.

When I arrived at the meeting place ( the living room of a retired university professor ), I was met at the front door by a small handful of participants. There were two other cars parked beside his house. They usually have a few dozen people come for these gatherings. By the time the session began, there were 75 people in the room, including several brilliant university and high school students. Sometimes I feel like an exotic bird when I show up at these things. ( My brother Gerard suggested that “bald eagle” was appropriate! ).

It was a fascinating and stimulating evening. I really enjoyed the question and answer period that followed the formal speeches. There were no easy questions. They were very interested to talk about the “Trump” factor as it relates to the economy of Canada and other countries including India. They fear that any form of protectionism could be problematic for their country. When the evening concluded, I was approached by several people to see if I would come to their institutions to do similar presentations.

Every guest who shows up at the B@B run by the Sisters has a demonetization story. A chap from England was telling me a story last evening about his own travails. He is in the early stages of a two year trip through Asia. He has been in India three months so he has seen the worst of the currency crisis like me. He was in Northern India in a town in which he was staying for three days ( he had pre-booked and paid for his accommodations long before he left home). The restaurants in the area only took cash and , of course, there was none to be had. He found one restaurant that offered him an unique solution. The restaurant owner had a brother who owned a jewelry store that took credit cards. So this English chap took all of his meals at this one establishment for three days and went to the jewelry store the day he was leaving to pay his bill. These kind of stories are legendary. Resourcefulness is a useful skill.

I have two new stories. I took my first bus trip since coming to India and not surprisingly, it wasn’t without incident! The second story is about the challenges that we all have with electricity in this country. Power outages are common place ( daily and sometimes more often than that ) but they rarely last long… mildly inconvenient but not a big deal. My room has 16 different switches ( it’s one of the rooms in the B@B ). I won’t spoil the story but safe to say, that getting everything to work when the power is on is difficult enough but when there’s an outage, the situation can get very complicated.

Have a great week.

P.S. I couldn’t get the Super Bowl in India. I want to give a big shout out to my friend , Rick Johnson, who gave me the blow by blow of the last 5 minutes of the thrilling conclusion by way of Facebook Messenger.