Projects Smashing Poverty

You can’t get through a day in India without something out of the ordinary happening. I got back to the village last night after a long day of meetings at about 9.30pm. There was music emanating from cheap speakers, and the tinny sound was snaring through my dilapidated frame. And it went on. I tried to read my book, but it went on. I tried to write this blog about some of the meetings, but it went on. It was after midnight when my head heard its last thought before disappearing into unconsciousness. Then it was 5am that the music woke me. As I walked to back to where the kids stay (someone remind me to do an entry about what I have called Diagon Alley) I was racking my mind for a rational explanation why tacky film music had been blaring all night long. I asked little Yemuna, who has short hair that she always combs neatly to the left, why the music played. “Festival” she said with a smile.

With my head tilted slightly to the right in a perplexity that is India, I answered, “For what?”

“Shiva.” She giggled, “Shiva Festival.” It might have been the look on my face, but now she was laughing out loud.

“Ok. But why the loud film music”

By now all the kids had congregated around me and were hysterical. “Shiva festival means no eat and… no sleep.”

Of course it does.

Clary is over in Bangalore as President of the 40K Home Foundation, and STA Travel Trust Winner. 40K is building the world's first eco-shelter and community learning centre for 100 severely underprivileged kids. See the latest news at www.40khome.org

I wish I could explain simply how life is going here, but for some reason India is not so black and white. I am staying in the village with the kids and commuting every day by scooter to get to the office. Last night, a new volunteer from Germany arrived- he's a young bloke only 19 years old, and he's here for one year. He reminded me of how I felt when I arrived for the first time in 2004/05- completely isolated, helpless and powerless. It's quiet out in the village- when the kids have gone to bed and you go back to your room, night time reminds you of that. I reckon it takes a solid month to settle in for the first time.

On a lighter note, I had a typical Indian moment yesterday. We were going to a sponsorship meeting with one of the big IT giants here in Bangalore and stopped at a petrol station. It was a hot day so I wandered over to the fridge to get a Sprite. I pointed to a 375mL can. "How much?" The girl with long black hair and big black eyes said, "25 Rupees."
I then pointed to a 600mL bottle. "And this one?"
"20 Rupees," she calmly replied.
I just stared. "So the big one is 20 Rupees, and the small one is 25 Rupees?"
The girl nodded. With a puzzled look on my face, I said "I'll take the bottle" and gave her 20 Rupees. She smiled. A rational explanation would be disappointing.

I will never understand this place!

To see more about the 40K Home project in Bangalore: the construction of the world's first eco-home and learning centre for severely underprivileged kids, see www.40khome.org

Like a tap on the shoulder, there is always something that reminds you that you have arrived in India. And this time, it happened before I even left Bangalore airport. It was 1am local time. After a long day’s work, the tired carousel trudged around in perpetual circles as bags were snatched up by their eager owners. But something remained. An orphaned silver padlock. Unlocked. As I waited endlessly for my pack to arrive, I stared. What was it telling me? Was it saying that Indians will pilfer all they can from white people, but do so playfully before their very eyes? Was it saying something more symbolic about what India does to the soul? Or was it a sign for the very purpose I came to Bangalore- something about unlocking the answers to the monstrous problem of poverty?

Three days ago, the moon lit the path for me as I walked from the congested train station to my Sydney home in a tie, suit and shiny shoes. Tonight, I am in the village of Anagalapura in rural north-east Bangalore, and the same moon lit the path for me as I walked home. But now, my home is a concrete room that lacks more than it has. My toilet is a communal ‘Indian Style’ hole in the floor down the hallway. My shower is a bucket. And it is quiet. To combat the stillness of village life, I bought a white Siamese fighting fish today. I cut a 2 litre empty coke bottle in half as its tank. I called it Minu (‘fish’ in the local language, Kannada- recommended to me by a local man with a bushy black moustache who helped me restart my scooter when it broke down again this afternoon).

The next seven weeks in Bangalore is going to be one helluva rollercoaster ride. I’m in town with the co-founder of 40K Home, a Sydney-based NGO which is building the world’s first ever eco-home for orphaned and severely underprivileged kids. We’ve bought land, so we’re here to make sure the architectural plans are finalized. Oh, and to raise $150,000 inside 6 weeks so we can get this puppy built. So tune into this blog to hear all the trials and tribulations of some Aussies’ efforts to get stuff done in the developing world.

Till next time,

Claz and Minu the Siamese fighting fish.

For more about 40K Home’s Project in Bangalore, including weekly videos, visit www.40khome.org.