Time to Say Goodbye

It's hard to believe that almost three months teaching in Pokhriabong has gone by. Do I really only have eight days of teaching left and three weeks left here? It seems surreal that in a few short weeks, I will be flying back to Sydney leaving all the faces I've met behind. It's a paradox to return to Sydney, a place so familiar yet a place that I can never look at the same because of all that I've experienced. It's that time of my placement where I'm starting to say goodbye to the people and places that will forever have a place in my heart. It's a bitter sweet time because I am so insanely excited to return.

It was a spontaneous move on my part to apply with Young People Without Borders (YPWB). I was going through a rough time during the end of 2011 and all I wanted to do was escape, disappear and forget. And the best place to go? A different country. One Monday afternoon on my way to class, I was chatting with my friend who had the YPWB interview that weekend. She told me all about the organisation and I was extremely interested. But there was a problem: the final applications were due weeks ago. I decided to ditch class, and rush to the school's career advisor. He helped me call up YPWB and after conversing, explaining and inquiring with friendly staff, a miracle happened. I was scheduled in for a phone interview the next weekend! The phone interview was casual and I'm pretty sure I aced it which was confirmed a few weeks later. I was officially a YPWB Youth and Community Volunteer Worker. Months passed and my initial reasons of journeying to India transformed from running away to exploring the real world. I was ready to travel, discover my place as a global citizen, witness poverty and in general, make a difference.

And boy did I meet those goals! My experiences did not only meet my typical Indian expectations but (prepare for a cliché) exceeded those expectations entirely.

Things I've learnt:

1. The washing machine is the best invention in the history of inventions, followed closely by running hot water. Before arrival, I have never washed my clothes before, not even with the washing machine, so evidently I found washing my clothes by hand quite a struggle. It requires a lot of time and a lot of arm strength, which I do not have. I actually find myself resting mid-wash because it's so tiring! And because it's such a chore, I try my best to keep my washing to the minimum, and I confess, even if it means to wear clothes that smell just a little. I can't wait to return to a place where my dirty clothes magically appear folded neatly on my bed all clean and crisp. Thanks Mum!
2. Primary School teachers do not get enough credit. I don't know how they do it. How do they handle the naughty kids so well? How do they cater for the bright and also the not-so-bright kids at the same time? So much time and effort they put into creating a good educational atmosphere for the children and they hardly get any praise or acknowledgement. Just amazing.
3. Australia is one of the best countries to live in. In the first few weeks of placement, I was sitting with Latika, one of the boarding girls, and out of nowhere she looks at me with desolate eyes and says with a sad smile, “You know what, Miss? You are so lucky to live in Australia. You know that, right? I hate it here.” How was I to respond but nod sadly and whisper, “I know.” Crime rates are low compared to other countries, we are economically stable, unemployment rate low and we get almost everything on a silver platter. Medicare and HECS are just a couple of examples. Our educational system, especially in NSW, is the easiest and most relaxed I've heard of yet! Opportunities are high and the big dreams that children imagine are actually within reach. Not here in the small villages of India. They're extremely lucky to even make it to university.
   I would love to return to Pokhriabong in a few years time but realistically, that's not likely due to financial reasons. Ten years time is a little bit more likely. But if I return, will the kids that I've taught still be there? It's better for them not to be. There really is nothing for them in such a small village. But it is inevitable that some are unable to escape the tight grasps of poverty. But what if it were the unbelievably intelligent kids? Prakit? Mharshang? Yankey? Pranisha? Kshitiz? What if their lack of money prevented them to be the amazing men and women they have the potential to be? That would break me. That famous phrase of “What if the cure for cancer is trapped inside the mind of of someone who can't afford an education?” comes to mind when I think about their future.
4. The real world is so much bigger than what I've previously imagined. The concept of poverty was absolutely foreign to me before I came to India. Seeing it on television is so much more different than seeing it with my own eyes. Can you believe that 48% of the 7billion people living on this planet live on less than $2US a day? Can you believe that 50% of children live in poverty? It makes things like buying $250 jeans a little bit ridiculous. Preena, a girl in Class IV, can't even afford a school bag so her mum made her one from a wheat sack. There are parents whose children attend Sacred Heart, who earn 9rs/hr ($0.18AUS). There are children at the school who are considered 'untouchables', the lowest of the low. Although the caste system is legally banished, it is very much alive socially in the older generation. My hostess even said that if her son married an 'untouchable', she would shun him from the family. I've met girls whose parents mourned and wailed at their birth because they were female. The real world is definitely a desperate and scary place.
5. Money does not buy happiness. One of the strongest memories I'll be taking away are the smiles of the children. They don't have technological gadgets (they've never seen an iPhone or a tablet before Jordan and I arrived) or even have toys but are happier than most of the children I've seen in Australia. It really emphasises the famous phrase: money doesn't buy happiness. Developed countries somehow shifted the concept of happiness to be linked with wealth. But that is such a corrupt perception of happiness. The happiness here that is captured within the kids is pure and innocent.
6. One person can make a difference. This doesn't have to be extravagant and on an international scale like Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King Jnr. but simply providing somebody with confidence, being a role model or acknowledging those who are usually overlooked. The little things can do so much!

Over my time in India, I've learnt so much about myself and the world. I've met amazing people, been to amazing places in an amazing country. 
Now it's time to soak in as much as I can from this unique country in the little time I have left and give my remaining teaching days my all!

Durga Puja

Durga Puja is a massive ten day Hindu public holiday from the 10th-20th of October in India which celebrates goddess Durga defeating a demon. It's the biggest holiday of the year in West Bengal so where else would you go but Kolkata which is the capital city of the state?

By this time of my placement, I really needed a holiday. The kids were getting more and more rowdy due to the end of term which made me pretty exhausted by the end of the day. The teachers seem to dislike Jordan and I, as they never send us smiles but instead shoot death glares, especially during concert practice. And the Principal attempted to manipulate us for our money. That's quite a long story. Also John, an English volunteer whom I grew quite fond of because of his wisdom, quirkiness and his absolute certainty in what he wants, was finishing off his placement and heading back home. So when the time came to pack up my bag and head for the train station, I was pretty stoked.

But that didn't last too long. The Sleeper Carriage in the overnight trains are infamously known for the ladyboys, apparently not just transvestites but hermaphrodites, who hop on the trains and ask for money and if they don't receive some, usually touch men on their chest until they do give them money. The ladyboy that happened to hop onto the train at this particular time was not a very good ladyboy, I must say. No wig, no makeup, no fake breasts, no smile, and a little stubble. Just an obvious male in a sari. He grunted at me, touching my face quite roughly until I handed over ten rupees. But I have to say, that's better than what happened to my friend! She got a bum grab as an attempt to wake her up! However, the ladyboys on the way back to Pokhriabong were very nice, and quite pretty! You can hear them coming from the clapping of their hands and they sit with you and call you beautiful and if you politely refuse to give them money, they simply smile and walk away.

After ten hours, we finally arrived at Kolkata and boy was it quite a shock. In Pokhriabong, I often forget that I'm in India. Almost everyone is Nepalese so the culture is completely different. It's also cold, clean, quiet and empty. But Kolkata was definitely a reality hit that I am in India. It's hot and humid, dirty (my boogers turned black from the all the dust. Too much information?), extremely crowded, loud, cows randomly roam the streets, the constant staring, and there are beggars everywhere. One of the most shocking images I saw and will remember for a while was a skinny and blind father carrying his 8yr old daughter who was unconscious and extremely skinny. Many times I'm quite skeptical of beggars as one time I saw a woman carrying a baby boy in the morning but in the afternoon, she changed into a different sari and had a different baby in her arms. But this man staggered blindly, literally, passed us – an obvious bunch of Westerners. It was heartbreaking. There was another time where a few of us walked into a bunch of street kids. I'm pretty sure they weren't actually too poor because they looked quite healthy and their clothes looked relatively new, but they followed us for quite some time. They grabbed my hands calling out, “Didi” (sister) or “Auntie” and would not let go. There was one girl who refused to let go of my hand so I looked down at her and asked for her name. “Tiya”, she replied with a smile. For a minute or so, we walked down the street together swinging our arms. I gave her my newly bought water bottle and she ran down the street. One time, a woman grabbed my side so suddenly I thought she was trying to steal my bag. It was out of desperation for money that she grabbed me, but I was so shocked I leapt away before realising. Often men with amputated legs or legs turned backwards that they can't walk crawl up behind me and tap my leg gently. 

It's easy to think of beggars as just that: beggars. It's easy to distance myself from these people and group them into something that I can't relate to but often it's not their fault that they are poor and live this way. If I remember that they are men, women, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers and if I remember that they have names like Tiya, I kind of feel like I'm doing more then just give them money. I'm giving them an identity that most people often forget and overlook.

I'm not sure if it was the massive temperature change from 20degrees to 32degrees but I really started to feel the lack of iron in my body due to my Indian vegetarian diet. I felt so weak that I found myself napping at least twice a day and soon enough I got sick with a cold. This made my Kolkata adventures of shopping in markets (which is quite frustrating as people follow me trying to lead me to their shops) and going to museums and temples quite exhausting. So I was quite excited to go to Sagar Island. Although Sagar Island is basically untouched by tourists and there are only two websites on it, I was expecting Fiji-like islands with clear blue waters and white sand. I was wrong. The sand, which was quite soft, was grey and brown and so was the water. It wasn't bad, just not expected. We spent the day swimming, tanning and exploring the island. When we were tanning, a few young men came and sat 20meters away just watching us. All the girls quickly put our shirts over our bikinis and soon enough a few more groups of young men on motorbikes came and circled us on a 20m radius. They would stop, rev their bikes and stare. They all stayed for at least 30minutes just watching us. It was weird.

The island has a tiny town away from the main town that probably have never seen Westerners before. I felt so intrusive walking into their town as it seemed so peaceful. I felt so tourist-y as I felt like I disturbed their way of life and culture by coming to the island for a holiday.

Because the main town do not get tourists, we got overcharged for almost everything that we bought. Kids came to us and begged, obviously not real beggars as no beggars would live in an island that has zero tourist attractions and we offered them food that they refused. They wanted money.

When we returned to the hostel, we were welcomed by the distressed manager. He couldn't speak English very well but he managed to say a few words that we managed to string together. We had to leave the hostel because another group has arrived. The day before, the manager said that we could only stay one night, which we were happy to do. But in the morning, a man who we thought was also a manager because he organised our dinner and breakfast and could speak relatively good english told us that we could stay for the whole four days. Apparently he made a mistake of translating “they can't stay until Sunday” to “they can stay until Sunday”. So within minutes, we had to pack our things and leave. One man stood in the corner of the room humming the tune of a random song that he insisted was the Australian anthem. It was just so random that it made me laugh so hard but made others extremely annoyed. We tried to find accommodation at several hostels and hotels on the island without success which is strange as there is nobody on the island to stay there, so within the hour, we decided to make our way back to Kolkata. After a rocky trailer ride, an hour long bus ride, an hour long wait at the train station and a 3hr train ride, we finally made our way back to Kolkata.

This time we explored heritage sites like the Belur Math Shrine where I sneakily took photos when “photographs are strictly prohibited” (Yeah I know, I'm living life on the edge), sat in the same seats as bohemians, poets and revolutionists in the Indian Coffee House, witnessed the aftermath of animal sacrifices in the Kali Temple and danced in a rave in the wave pool in Aquatica, Kolkata's water park.

By the end of the holiday, I was missing my kids so much I couldn't wait to get back to Pokhriabong. Can you believe that I only have ten more days of teaching left? Then I'll be travelling and flying back home. I'm so excited to go home but the kids! I only left the kids for ten days and I missed them so much! It's going to be heartbreaking to leave... 

Sunrise on the Himalayas

The warm shower which is the second I've had in the last two months (the hot water tank at my placement never worked), along with a very comfortable mattress at the hotel allowed me to have one of the most comfortable sleeps I've ever had in India. A piercing ring of the alarm interrupted my sweet dreams at three in the morning and tempting thoughts of sleeping in crossed my mind. But how can I? In a few hours, I would experience one of the most incredible things I have ever witnessed in my life: the sunrise over the Himalayas. I reluctantly got out of bed, and with a few other volunteers walked through the silent streets of Darjeeling to the jeep that would take us to the famous Tiger Hill.

45minutes and 40 rupees later, we were in the Super Deluxe Lounge which is the top and third floor of a building full of lounge chairs facing large windows revealing nothing but darkness. We got our seats in the second row but soon realised that it's no good sitting. The room was filling up fast and a tourist already set up his camera and tripod in the middle window blocking the view of many. A local man got pretty angry and started a fight, a little bit of entertainment before the main course. Because of those blocking the view, a few of my friends and I decided to jump out the window and sit on the window ledge instead. At first I was pretty scared (I'm terrified of falling) but when I looked out into the hills, valleys and the Himalayas slowly emerging from the darkness, I forgot about how high up I was. I watched the sun rise out of complete darkness. It was pitch black, then lines of dull orange emerged turning into pinks and yellows and suddenly out of nowhere, a bright orange line of the sun emerges from the horizon. Everybody gasped and pointed. It was absolutely spectacular! The sun rose quite quickly from a bright blood orange line to an orange crescent to a pink semi-circle and then a blinding orange circle. It was insane.

And the mountains! The largest mountain in view is Mount Kanchanjunga, the third largest mountain in the world, which is 200m smaller than Mount Everest. I witnessed the peak of Mt Kanchanjunga light up pink as the sun rays hit the Himalayas. Slowly, one by one, the peaks of the Himalayas glowed like candles. The whole scene looked fake. Especially since the bottom of the mountains aren't visible because of the clouds; it seemed like the mountains were floating in the air. From that position, I was able to look into Sikkim (the northern state of India), Tibet, Nepal and China and see the first and third largest mountains in the world (from my point of view, Everest was pretty unimpressive compared to Kanchanjunga).

By six o'clock, the sun was pretty high in the sky and it was a beautiful bright morning. My toes and my bum was frozen but it was definitely worth it! I can't explain how amazing, majestic and absolutely incredible it was. Even now as I look back on it, it's completely surreal. I don't think any piece of writing can ever bring justice to the view of the Himalayas so all I can really say is, fly here now and experience it for yourself. You will not regret it!

The first glimpse of the sun.

The sunrays hitting the peak of Mount Kanchanjunga

Panorama of the view

On the window sill

Himalayas in the backdrop of the war memorial

Close up of the mountains

Life in the Clouds

It's halfway into my placement at Sacred Heart School and as expected, my daily routine is no longer new and unpredictable (mostly) but is pretty much as normal as everybody's.

Every morning I wake up at 7.15 and have breakfast. Breakfast is one of the most delicious things! I've eaten it every single morning yet I still look forward to it. It's chana (part of the chickpea family), chipati and egg. Speaking of foods, I don't even crave pizza, pasta, korean food or even delicious El Jannah and their amazing garlic sauce anymore!

Brekkie

School starts at 9am with a morning assembly. The children are arranged into lines characterised by class, gender and height. They recite the school prayer (the founder is actually Hindu but his wife is/used to be Christian so asked for the prayer to be made) which goes like:

Oh God, our loving Father.

As we come before you,

give us the strength to follow your path with

courage, courtesy and confidence.

And help us to perform our duties towards

God, parents and society.

Thank you God!

Afterwards somebody says the Current Affairs and then we all sing the school song. It's a super motivational song about how one person can change the world called: A Drop in the Ocean by Steps. It's quite long so I won't put the lyrics up here!

Assembly

The school has eight periods a day, usually 40minutes long. But since we have the annual concert to practice for ten minutes is cut off from each period leaving us 30minutes to work with and an hour and 15minutes for concert practice. It's a killer. Jordan and I have free periods in Period One, Three, Five and Seven and we usually mark work, prepare for future classes or just relax.

Jordan and I marking

On Thursdays, I share Class II with Jordan during Period Two. Usually Class II is insane as there are about five rowdy boys out of twenty students. But we worked out a system where one of us would take the boys outside and work with them one on one. Currently with Class II, we're working on the theme Me, My Family, My World. Sometimes Class II feels almost like babysitting which I hate because I'm not here to colour and draw but to teach. But the range of their English and intelligence is absolutely astounding. There is one child, Prakit, who is an absolute genius. He finishes his work without getting distracted, his hand writing is amazing and he gets everything correct. On the other hand, there are children like Ravikant, who can hardly speak English and often talks to me in Nepalese. If we make things too difficult, half the class won't bother and will be so loud the kids who can understand will get distracted. But if we make things easy, it won't be a challenge for those who can manage and wouldn't help them increase their academic ability. Struggle street. But the naughty kids are definitely improving in their behaviour. They love getting Hi-5's and now even hug me and say, “Thank you, Sharon Miss” after each lesson!

Teaching vocabulary related to family.

Class II being very enthusiastic 

The kids were very enthusiastic to say something!

During Period Four, I have my favourite class – Class IV. They like to play a game with me called “New Pinch”. The rules are quite simple: if you have something new and somebody spots that it is new, everyone must pinch you until you say, “Thank you.” One day, Adi asks almost too innocently (he's one of the naughty boys), “Miss, are those new earrings?” I was quite surprised that he noticed and replied quite enthusiastically, “Yes, they are new earrings!”

He immediately turns to Dipesh (also one of the naughty boys) and says with excitement, “Dipesh! Miss has new earrings!” Suddenly there were murmurs around the classroom of “New earrings. NEW earrings!” and before I knew it, I was swarmed by nine year olds pinching me (which hurt quite a lot!) screaming out, “NEW PINCH!” until I said, “Thank you!” It's a strange and painful game but I like it nonetheless. Perhaps the reason why Class IV is my favourite is because they feel like they can muck around with me despite my authority position. It makes me feel accepted and that I'm more than a teacher to them. I mean, they would most definitely not do this with other teachers!

Classroom of Class IV

Class IV

Class IV

During Period Six is Class VI. Honestly, I don't like Class VI too much. They don't listen and their fights over not sharing crayons or somebody hitting somebody else seems very immature for their age. They don't take Jordan and I seriously resulting to a very loud classroom and a lot of shouting of, “Quiet!” on our behalf. With Class VI, we just started on teaching them about the Aborigines and their Dreamtimes stories. Soon enough, they'll write their own story and create their own artwork using the symbols the Aboriginals use in their art.

Class VI

And in Period Eight, I have Class III which I share with Jordan. Currently we're teaching them the structure of a story and eventually, they'll write their own little book. However, it seems to be more draining than rewarding with Class III. They're the laziest class where about ten of them refuse to write when it requires them to use their brain. But Jordan and I try hard. In class, we let the naughty kids do what they want, as long as they're not interrupting the others and we focus on the kids who want and need help. And since the naughty kids do not get individual attention during class, they get it after class in afternoon detention. They finish their work and we understand their weaknesses and work on them. It's a win-win situation! Almost...

After every lesson, we hand out a kangaroo or a koala to the most quiet and hard working student. Behaviour has improved immensely after we introduced this system. They love it! Today for Class III, it was Mharshang.

Mharshang and her koala

Teaching Class III

At 2pm, we have concert practice. Jordan and I take Class IV with a play on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and on the other days, we have Class V with a song: It's a Small World by Disney. We thought it would be an appropriate song as Sacred Heart has many volunteers coming from all over the world. So far, it's going really well but we just need to tidy up some dance moves. It's super cute.

Class V in position

Class V making a tunnel

After school, I'm pretty much drained and exhausted. Not physically but mentally so sometimes I go to my room and read a book or I go out and play with the kids.

Played with Ariyan all afternoon!

Mucking around with the boarding kids on Photo Booth

So that's my usual day! It's pretty exhausting which results to my bedtime of 10pm but pretty fun. However, since my day-to-day routine is pretty much the norm now, I have been a little more homesick than in the past. I'm excited to go home in two months but how can I leave this place? This is my second home now.

Feeling empowered

I met an incredible man yesterday. His name is Sunta Rai and he is the local co-ordinator for the UK based organisation, FutureSense. FutureSense is an ethical business with a strong social motive that is committed in promoting the development of local communities and individuals through ethically run volunteer placements (thank you, Google). So Sunta arrived at Sacred Heart because a FutureSense volunteer will be working with Jordan and I at Sacred Heart School from tomorrow for five weeks and he lay down the ground rules his organisation has with Binod (our host), who apparently is his uncle. Anyway, we chatted over a glass of very strong whiskey about his organisation, his visions and what he's done in his life. And he is amazing.

Back in the mid 90's his brother came across a village whilst backpacking Nepal. After a 4.5hour bus ride from Kathmandu, it takes another two hours by walking to get there. It is so rural that if you do not follow a map correctly by the degree whilst walking, you will miss it. After spending a few months there, he returned back to India and Sunta decided to travel there to replace him. Upon arrival he noticed that there was no school in the town. The village did not know the meaning of “school” so Sunta basically invented the concept of academic education for them. For years he watched the school grow. It started out with a few children in somebody's kitchen. Then a bamboo hut with dirt floors. Then a small shed. Eventually, the school had its own building made from wood. It's reputation grew and more and more children started to attend. It became a private school where students had to pay 200-300rupees a month ($4-$6) to attend. All was going well until the Maoist (a communist group) noticed that private schools were dominating public schools, something they did not like. They told all private schools to shut down or decrease their number of students to give public schools an advantage. Sunta did not agree with their terms so walked up to the group and asked them to clarify. He suggested that they should visit public schools and see what the problem was. Obviously if poor parents are willing to send their children to a private school over a public school (usually free or 50rupees a month, which is $1) then there must be a problem. Instead of shutting down private schools, they should solve the problem within public schools. Apparently the Maoist group had no answer but stuck with their initial terms: shut down your school or get rid of half of your students. Sunta refused. He returned back to the village and continued on with the educating of children. It seemed like things were back to the way it was before until one day, 50 Maoist soldiers with guns raided the village. They took all the students and Sunta out infront of the school. They circled them and pointed their guns to Sunta's head. Sunta pleaded with them, “Do anything to the school. I don't care. Just don't hurt the kids!” So he watched the soldiers smash the tables they built by hands. He watched them tear books apart. And he watched the school that he built be burnt to the ground. Afterwards, he was forced to flee Nepal or they would kill him. Just recently, the children that he once taught, now all grown up, have returned to that village, rebuilt the school and are the current teachers. Amazing.

Now he is planning to start a business that helps the economy of rural villages. Many village people grow their vegetables and sell their excess produce in the closest populated township. After a good day of selling, they would earn 200-300rupees ($4-$6). However travelling to and from that town every day will turn their profit into less than 50rupees a day. So Sunta aims to buy all their excess produce from their door for a days wage so they can keep all their profit and sell them to private schools who need 50kg of vegetables a week for their boarders. He's already talked to various private schools and even though they already have a dealer who brings them vegetables, they are happy to switch as they do not know where the dealer gets the vegetables from. If they buy from Sunta, however, they are guaranteed organic produce and they know they are helping their own people in rural villages.

As Sunta was talking about this, his face lit up with excitement. His arms were flying in all directions, demonstrating models or plans. His eyes grew big and he was constantly smiling and laughing. This man is so incredible because of his mentality and his humility. He is all for helping the people, in helping villages improve their economy so that one day the Indian economy will improve. I can say that Sunta is that man in the phrase, one man can change the world.

I'm not sure if I've made Sunta sound as good as he really is, and if you're thinking, “Umm...I really don't see what's great about this guy and I think you're overreacting.” Then I apologise. I guess having a physical interaction with him and listening the words come out of his mouth is a lot more powerful. 

Now, he was probably 20 years old when he started the school and 26 when he was held at gun point. I'm thinking, “I'm 20 next year. Am I able to make such a difference to this world?” Often I feel like I can't make a difference because I am not the smartest person in the world and I don't have an amazing talent in art or music. So I'm just living my life, just simply existing. But it is the ordinary people like me and like 99% of the world's population that have the potential to be incredible people like Sunta Rai. It isn't a talent that we have to possess, it's a mindset. 
Anyway, I'm going to conclude with this inspiring and uplifting quote said by an unknown man, that was shared with me by a friend.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?”

Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to manifest the glory of God. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. It is not in a specific place, it is everywhere.

And as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Discouraged and Disheartened

It is times like these that make me so very discouraged and disheartened.

With Class III, Jordan and I are starting the theme “Story Time” where we go through fairy tales together and eventually, the kids will write their own story. Currently we are going though “Little Red Riding Hood” and after attempting worksheets and comprehension sheets that completely failed, as they simply did not understand the story, we broke the story down. We would write down a sentence from the story on the board and they would have to draw what the sentence is talking about. Even this was difficult as they refused to draw something that we didn't draw on the board. They would cry out, “Miss, I don't know how to draw!” so we had to draw it on the board for them to copy. This is something that I found very strange as children have amazing imaginations and love drawing. So we went through the story, which we broke down into eight sentences, drawings and all. Then we wrote down a simple comprehension question on the board: What happens at the start of Little Red Riding Hood?

This question created an uproar. They had absolutely no idea and Jordan and I refused to tell them the answer. Three kids refused to write and gave up their exercise books, which Jordan and I bought ourselves (we bought each child in Class II, Class III and Class IV an exercise book as our classes are not considered a separate subject and they never had spare paper on them), with full knowledge that once they hand in their books they will never get it back. After witnessing this, many of the other kids tried to hand in their books. They chucked the new books on the floor or around the room but I didn't collect them. At this point, I was so discouraged, disappointed, angry, sad and any other negative emotion. How did such chaos arise from a simple comprehension question? I don't know how I can make Little Red Riding Hood easier. The children here are not encouraged to think for themselves. But I am not going to give them to answers for them to memorise. I want them to understand and think for themselves!

Two girls from Class IV (Yankey and Sneha) and one girl from Class V (Pranisha) are participating in the Interschool Competition that is being held tomorrow. Two weeks ago, the organisation that holds this competition e-mailed all the participating schools the questions and answers that is going to be in the test. This whole week, those three girls did not attend class but sat in the staffroom with no breaks (excluding toilet and lunch breaks), memorising the questions and answers. They get slapped on the hand or pinched on the arm or hit on the head and shouted at for getting a question wrong or answering too slowly. On Wednesday, the supervising teacher said, “You need to be sacrificing your sleep to study.” And today Pranisha was scolded for sleeping at 8pm. “You should be sleeping at 10 and waking up at 4!” These are ten year old children for goodness sake! They should be running around in the quad, playing handclaps with their friends and running away from boys with cooties. I understand and agree that memorising is a required part of learning but this competition does not expand the child's education. It has at least three parts to it and one section, which goes for seven pages, is a quiz of useless facts (a question is: What country is known as "The Land of Earthquakes"? Apparently it's Japan). The teachers are putting the school's reputation over the physical and mental health of these children.

This mentality of memorising rather than understanding and going with your own opinion is something heavily engrained into the way things are here that children at the age of seven can't even draw without copying the teacher. This must be detrimental for the children's future! I blame the Indian education system. Not cool. Not cool at all.

One month in...

Needless to say, after a month living in Pokhriabong, I have gotten quite close with my host family and the boarders that I am staying with. I share the same roof as eleven other people: Binod (host), Jyoti (hostess), Binod's mother, Jyoti's mother, Panaam (Binod's sister), Madori (a teacher), Jordan (my partner) and the four boarding girls (Aakancha, Latika, Sara and Anjana). This is done by having no kitchen, living room or laundry inside the house but having every single room, or space, turned into a bedroom. The six boarding boys (Karma, Nueyal, Aajay, Wongiel, Uojo and Unabov) and Reewaj (hosts' son) live in a small room outside of the house.

Since I prefer to be outside after school, as the house is currently being renovated so it's extremely noisy, and the boys are always outside playing soccer, naturally I spend a little more time with the boys. However, I spend more intimate times with the girls. More dancing, singing, showing each other pictures and more sharing in general. I really look forward to those couple of hours I have chilling and playing with all of them after school and all day on the weekends.

One evening last week, the house experienced a black out. So all the boarding kids and Jordan and I went out to the school quad and went a little nuts. We pretended to be ninjas and characters from Tekken. We were ballroom dancing, attempting the moon walk, breakdancing and shuffling. We played the untangling game where you have to untangle your arms and played a hopping battle where you have to make the other person fall whilst hopping. We did cartwheels and somersaults. We were twirling and spinning around until we were so dizzy we had to grab onto the floor for balance. Jordan and I forced them to call us “Jordi” and “Shaz” instead of “Miss” (something that they're still working on!). And when we were all exhausted we lay on the dirt and watched the stars (which are absolutely amazing by the way!). By this time we were being eaten alive by mosquitoes so we went inside and played the guitar, singing and dancing by the candlelight. I think those few hours were the definitely one of the greatest highlights of India so far. It seems so simple – playing with kids, but that day definitely made the kids more comfortable with us. We are the youngest volunteers here in Sacred Heart and it's important for them to know that we're not here just as teachers but as friends.

At the same time, being the youngest volunteers makes it quite difficult to get close with the teachers. Yes they are friendly but it's more out of politeness rather than wanting to be friends. The youngest teacher is 25 and the oldest in his mid 40's. There are some teachers with whom I have not even had a single conversation with. I am not to sure if they take what Jordan and I teach seriously as they don't seem to take interest what we teach. Although I am somewhat relieved that what we teach is not part of the student's final mark, I would like to know that the teachers here do take us seriously. We have not been invited to staff meetings and even though it would probably be boring and irrelevant, it will still be nice to know that we are considered as “staff” not “volunteers”.

The Dark Side of the Moon

How poetic is this title? Anyway, back on topic. Although my trip has been amazing, it is definitely not all rainbows, unicorns, lollipops and butterflies.

Class I. Oh what to do about Class I. This week, Jordan and I decided to drop Class I as we simply could not handle them. They scream and yell and jump on the tables and throw bags and it gets absolutely insane. No matter how loud or how much we yell and no matter how many stickers we give out, they simply do not listen to us. When I had their class, I would feel so helpless as I would have absolutely no control over them. When another teacher comes in, they miraculously turn into little angels. So quiet and so obedient. I think they know that we will never hit them or hurt them physically. But I hate telling them off or yelling at them to be quiet as I want to be a positive impact on their lives. When I have their class, I turn into a person that I'm not. I shout most of the time (which most people have not heard me do) and I get so exhausted that when they talk to me, I struggle to smile. I didn't want to give up on their class as I came here to give India my all but it just was not working. It's such a shame as we could have so much fun and do so much with these kids but if they don't listen and all we do is shout and yell, what is there to do? They'll give you all their attention if you let them draw or sing rhymes or give them colouring sheets but I didn't come to India to babysit.

We're currently taking Class 1 for the school concert and teaching them Old McDonald Had a Farm and it is a huge struggle. Instead of 40minutes of their screams, we have them for 75minutes. It really is so exhausting.

It's strange as I have developed quite a strict schedule when for the first seven months of 2012, I slept and ate and did whatever whenever I fancied. Now I wake up at 7:10, have breakfast at 7:30, finish up last minute preparations up to 9:00 where school starts. After school, I prepare for the next day and go up to town if I need to (have to return before sunset as there are lots of drunks up in town and no street lights) and play with the boarding kids until 7.30 which is dinner. There I chat and inform our hosts about our day until about 8.30. Then I shower or do my laundry and get ready for bed. Only then do I have time to myself (not really as I share a room but it's the closest thing I get). And by then I am so exhausted, I quickly write in my journal and fall asleep. If I try to sit outside after school and before dinner to do my own thing, somebody will come sit by me and watch what I do. And since that is awkward and uncomfortable, that will naturally turn into talks. I guess I don't really mind too much but it would be nice to have time to be alone without hiding out somewhere (I'm currently writing this inside the school canteen and look a that, kids who stayed behind for tuition have found me).

Since Pokhriabong is so high up in the hills and the clouds visit the town so often, everything is constantly damp. Making our room the perfect place for mould. It comes creeping over walls, paper, pillows and most annoyingly, clothes. This involves a lot of scrubbing to get rid of the mould on clothes or throwing away of paper or other not as important things.

Also, the dampness means that washed clothes do not dry completely and there is always a strange smell that comes out of freshly washed clothes. It is just such a nuisance.

From today, it has been three weeks since I've been away from home. This is the longest I've ever been without seeing my parent's faces. Although I'm not actually homesick, when I do think and dwell on thoughts of home, family and friends, I do get a bit sad and upset. When I have internet access to go on Facebook, I keep it to a minimum and avoid Newsfeed as I know I'll just feel left out or get a little homesick.

I'm being harassed by little children. A ten year old girl keeps trying to touch my face and calls me cute. A nine year old girl kisses me on the cheek to greet me and an eight year old girl strokes my face whenever she can and one time she grabbed my hair and put it against her face. This isn't really a negative but it is just a little bit strange...

Food is starting to get very repetitive. It is quite yum but having the same thing everyday can be a bit boring for the mouth. Breakfast is roti, egg and this chickpea/nut things with an overly sweet tea. Lunch is rice, potatoes, daal and some kind of vegetable. Dinner is either an Indian version of Chinese noodles or rice, potatoes, daal and some kind of vegetable. We get morning and afternoon tea which is once again an over sweetened tea. Never before have I craved pasta, pizza, steak and home-made food this much. Australia, treasure your access to a large variety of food. Eat for me!

On the plus side, I haven't gotten “Delhi Belly” yet! I expected food/water poisoning during the first week.

My immune system: 1 India: 0

Although, I think I'm catching a cold... So perhaps

My immune system: 1 India: 0.5

Sunrises and Reflections

I woke up early with the sunrise this morning and decided venture onto the roof of the hotel. I watched the clouds slowly move to reveal the majestic peaks of the Himalayas. The sounds of pigeons, calling birds, flowing water, the church bells and distant roosters were all I heard. And as the sunlight hit those peaks, the city of Darjeeling started to come alive. The thick fog lazily lifted to reveal an awakening hill station. People climbed onto the roofs of their houses to hang up their washing, trucks moved slowly through the streets, smoke chugged smoothly out of old chimneys and tea workers started their walks to the estates.

When people talk of India, they forget all about the awesome hill areas of this country and remember only the hustle and bustle of the over-populated cities. Although I've only been in India for two weeks, it seems much much longer. It's strange to realise that I've adapted quite well to the nation's way of living and the culture considering that Australia is so extremely different.

The biggest and most obvious difference is the general quality of living. Now as I speak of this, I refer to the lower working class as that is the only people I have interacted with (although many of the students come from families living on the poverty line, which is $1.25 a day). The rich will have the same living standards as Australians and the poor has one that I can not even begin to imagine.

I'll start with two words: Hot. Showers.

A shower head that flows out cold water is not that common as most people use buckets or a hose. But hot flowing water? Rare. I had a hot shower yesterday, the first since I got to India, and although only six streams of water came out and it was often inconsistent in flow, it was the most magical thing in the world. I can handle squat toilets, a constant dampness to my bedroom (I think it's the clouds coming through the window as the village is almost hourly immersed in the clouds) hand washing my clothes, no public toilet paper, itchy blankets, hard beds and a massive population of mosquitoes and bugs (my bed has become a graveyard for bugs. No I do not eat in my bed but there are just so many bugs here that they simply die and land on my bed) but cold bucket showers are definitely a struggle, especially since winter is rapidly approaching.

(I wrote this post a week ago and our bathroom is currently under renovation and I spy a hot water tank! It is ridiculous how excited Jordan and I am!)

However, the positives of my Indian adventure far outweighs any of the negatives of my placement. I mean how often does one see the sunrise hit the peaks of the Himalayas? Seeing the smiles on faces after a simple “namaste” or seeing the children's face light up as I walk into the classroom or hearing the hearty laughs of the people watching me as I immerse in the Indian culture (language, singing and dancing) is an absolute joy. Seeing strange sights such as painted on number plates or even sticky-taped paper number plates is absolutely hilarious to see. Playing Tekken in the local game store against the local boys and introducing Monopoly Deal to the boarding kids is so much fun. And having one of the biggest frights of my life as I realise that a wild monkey is about 30cm away from my face is a memory that I'll never forget. India is an amazing country full of diversity and wonder and I can't wait to explore more of it. I'm already learning so much about myself and about the world and I'm beginning to appreciate the simple things back home that I would not thing twice about such as education, clean water and my bed.

And most especially, hot showers.

A stickytaped paper number plate. Seems legit. 

A wild monkey that was frighteningly close to my face.

Himalayas

The sunrise over Darjeeling.

First days of teaching

Teaching at Sacred Heart School is definitely a challenge. I'm teaching English and Australian Geography to students within Class I up to Class VII (six year olds to thirteen year olds). Although this is an English medium school, and anyone caught speaking Nepalese or Hindi is fined 10-20rupees, their pronunciation and accents are pretty difficult to understand.

The students are not taught to raise their hands quietly if they have a question or if they know the answer, so shout “Miss!” as loudly as their little lungs can possibly manage. And if I do not acknowledge them, they walk up to me screaming “Miss!” and tug the edge of my salwar kameez. They get distracted easily and the lack of space in the classroom limits the amount of activities to play. However, giving out stickers gets them back on track. But there are some kids (Class III especially) do not understand the concept that one has to be good to receive a sticker so continually shout and move around the classroom and expect a sticker. I feel so terrible for yelling at them to be quiet, one time I yelled so hard my throat hurt at the end of the period, or punishing them somehow (asking them to stand in the corner or to stand outside) but the culture is so different that this is hardly a punishment. Their punishments are physical beatings which I am most definitely not going to do. However, Jordan and I sure did get it good as other volunteers are considering leaving their placements due to the brutality of punishments (backhands on the face, hits on the head with thin bamboo sticks and severe verbal abuse are among the punishments done to children as young as 8 for making a simple grammatical mistake. I heard that the teacher pointed at an eight year old boy and said, “This boy is evil as he comes from Bangladesh. He will never be a good person and is lower than everybody else.”).

One of the biggest differences between Australian children and Indian children is physical interaction. Over here, when the kids do not get along well; pulling, pushing, grabbing, punching, slapping, elbowing, kicking and hitting no matter the gender is something so common inside and out of the classroom. However when they do get along well, physical touch between the same sex is regularly seen. Both boys and girls of all ages are seen holding hands, arms around shoulders, hands on waists, linking arms or are somehow physically connected. One time in Class VII, I saw a boy continually kissing the cheek of his friend, who was a boy. It's a bit strange and I guess kind of cute to see. Also, I noticed that all the kids love dobbing on each other. There is no sense of group harmony, except for older classes, as each child is looking out for themselves.

“Miss! He's using a pen!”

“Miss! She's not sitting properly!”

“Miss! They put paper on the floor!”

“Miss! He's sleeping!”

“Miss! She drank water without asking!”

“Miss! He rubbed his drawing out!”

Honestly, it gets pretty annoying. What happened to backing your friends up? What happened to the idea that dobbers are teacher pets? Guess that's only back in Australia.

Whilst teaching there have been some absolutely pure gold moments such as a little boy randomly krumping in his chair, a little girl giving me the most seediest smile ever revealing her front two teeth gone, the little ones talking to me in supposed English but sounds like a whole other language leaving me with a blank expression, a stray dog randomly trotting into the classroom, a kid randomly getting out of his seat and marching up and down and around the room and a girl suddenly jumping out of her chair and dancing like Beyonce. For some reason, these moments make me laugh uncontrollably. Maybe it's because it's so random and unexpected that I don't know how to react but through laughter.  

Arrival at Pokhriabong

After a 10hour train ride from Kolkata to Siliguri, and another 4hour drive to Pokhriabong (excluding our stop at Mirik), Jordan and I finally arrived at our home for the next four months. It is located within the hills so not only do we get an absolutely amazing view and are often immersed within the clouds, but we also have to walk some very steep pathways. Like the walk to school from the village. It is a 5minute walk that turns into 10 as the rocks are often slippery and even more so when it rains. Pokhriabong is mostly filled with Nepali people who have asian features, and because of that I fit right in! Everybody in town knows everybody else and they are extremely friendly. When Jordan and I were in town, she disappeared with our kid tour guides so I sat on the side by my self on the street and all I received was smiles and namaste's.

Jordan and I not only share a room but a small house on campus with eight other people, our hostess and her husband, her mother in law, a teacher and four boarding girls. There is no lounge room or kitchen (the kitchen is separate from the house) as every single room turns into a bedroom. It is very cosy and very comfortable. My only struggle is the shower. Because we don't have one. We use a bucket and a jug to pour cold water (there is no hot water access here) to wash ourselves. Fun fact about me: I can't handle the cold as my circulation is extremely bad. So bad that in the 15degree Sydney winters, my toes turn purple. And even in summer, I have warm showers. In this humid Indian temperature, I'm coping with the cold water as it's refreshing but I'm dreading winter where it can get up to 0degrees as I'm probably going to die from hypothermia. We also have to hand wash our clothes, which I need to do soon actually.

Our host cooks amazing food for us and I aim, by the end of my placement, to be able to cook! Because of their Nepali background, the food also has an asian mix to it, so the food is pretty easy to adapt to. I have yet to have any Indian food that I ate in Australia. The food is completely different! I can already feel myself gaining weight as I'm eating so much more than I did in Australia! Especially since potato is a main component within the Indian diet and there's so much sugar within the teas and coffees. But it's all so delicious. I'm starting to eat with my hands and I think I'm getting the hang of it! At first it was extremely hard and everybody was laughing at me but it is very fun (and messy at times) and easy to learn.

Although Sacred Heart School is a private school, it is a school established for the poor. And because of this, the school is very small with only one building and has limited resources. There is no electricity in the school besides the office and one other classroom that has a projector. The children do not have access to coloured paper, coloured pencils or crayons, stickers or even scissors as they are simply not available here in Pokhriabong. Ten students live on the school and the others either catch the bus or walk up to 1.5hours to get to school! Most of the student's parents work in the tea estates, which Darjeeling is famous for, and do not have a wealthy income. So the academically excellent students who cannot afford their tuition do not have to pay for their school fees. The teaching methods here are very traditional with the use of corporal punishment and openly telling students they are the worst in the class. Encouraging and giving extra help to the students who are slower is not common, instead teachers regularly shout at them to keep up or pinch their hands and neck if they are not getting it correct. They loudly announce their mistakes to the rest of the class,

“His handwriting is poor.”

“They (the students stand up) are the top three in the class, and they (the students stand up) are the worst.”

“He is the naughtiest.”

“He is the slowest.”

And I heard a teacher yell, “If you get any of these wrong, you will get it!” to six year olds.

To say the least, I was shocked. The students do not understand the concept of simply saying, “I do not know” or “I need help” as it is frowned upon. However, I am not here to change the system but am here to lend a helping hand. I would like my classes to be beneficial in their development of self esteem and their realisation that it is okay not to understand and it is okay for them to voice their own opinion.

Despite this, there is an incredible teacher-student relationship. The kids treat the teachers with utmost respect however also treat them like friends, outside of school hours. They share food and water with one another, play with each other, put their arm around each other, the kids even buy snacks for the teachers, and the boarding children eat together with the teachers. They are indeed an amazing bunch of kids.

P.S. I do not have any internet and can only update my blog when I go into town and find an internet cafe. So I apologise for my probably lack of posts!

A typical classroom.

The town of Pokhriabong

My room for the next four months!