School Daze

Hello All! I hope you’ve been anticipating my next blog post! I’ve spoken a lot about my experiences in India but I wanted to post more about my purpose for being here. As stated before I am working as a social enterprise fellow with Hyderabad’s Affordable Private Schools. For those that are not familiar with the social enterprise industry, the most simple way to explain it is to describe the industry as business that measures not only financial returns but social impact as success. Hyderabad’s Affordable Private Schools are seen as social enterprises because the school owners benefit monetarily with the small cost they charge for students but their genuine interest is making quality education available for the poor. I have been matched with Grace Model School which happens to be the most inexpensive school out of my programs pool. My school owners are a husband and wife team Irfan and Ayesha who have over twelve years experience in education. They have welcomed me into their school and officially made me apart of the family after Fast breaking with Haleem and an Independence Day gift of a kurta outfit!

My day begins with the dreaded experience of anything here in Hyderabad…getting there. Every morning I take a bus and a shared auto to school. On a normal day it takes me about 30-45 minutes to get to school but there have been days when it literally takes an hour and a half. This is how those days could go. Waiting at the bus stop and no bus actually stopping. You see here in Hyderabad, there is no real schedule or bus stops on every corner and the driver can pretty much do what he wants. So once a bus actually stops for you then the next person to deal with is the ticket collector who depending on their mood will either charge you the fair price of 4 rupees or decide you’re foreign and don’t know the difference and tell you 10rupees. As stated before I refuse to be treated like a foreigner so when this happens I usually jump off and wait for another bus. After making it through a crowded bus I then have the luxury of sharing an auto with average Indian citizens that have a common destination. Every day as I approach the auto driver’s fight over who will take me to my neighborhood. I will hop in one auto and literally be screamed at to get out of one and into another. That’s no biggie though. The real delay comes from waiting for the auto driver to think its full enough. After five women are cramped into the back with one sitting on the rail hanging out the window, sometimes an auto driver will still wait for three men to join the fun! Which can take all of 30 minutes.

After my crazy travel I walk to school and pass the clothes shops and always stinky meat stand and finally arrive to my beloved Grace Model. Before getting close you can already hear lower kindergarten practicing the Hindi alphabet. I start the day with a brief meeting with Sir and Madam and then I’m free to roam and do whatever pops in my mind. It’s a lot of pressure because it leaves me with the responsibility to make my day productive but its creating a whole new sense of initiative for me. I usually always start the day by observing a class. Lower Kindergarten is my favorite thus far. I think it’s because the students are such characters! As an American most of the students see me as a celebrity and literally hold their hands out just waiting to be the lucky one who gets a handshake and often times the students nor the teachers feel comfortable exposing their true self, but it’s something about the little ones. They are so unapologetic, from taking their turn at the board to slapping each other when they feel like it.

After spending my morning observing I usually talk to students or teachers during lunch to get a better idea of the school and the way it operates. Somehow this conversation always gets back to the question “how did you do that to your hair?” (the braids). After lunch sometimes I get a chance to type up some notes and work on my case study of the ins and outs of the school but mostly I have no time to myself. I end my day by visiting the second building of the school and helping the 5th graders learn English through mobile phones, which may sound like I just give them a phone and they play games but it involves never ending questions and technical problems every five minutes. After all of this I report back to the office, say my goodbyes, and prepare myself for another exhausting trip home.

Sometimes I question why I’m here and what my purpose is. I really wonder how productive I am each day, and most times I guilty stay up all night at home researching or typing ideas to make myself feel better. What I’m learning from my spiritual journey is that God reveals his plan with time which makes patience my everyday struggle. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and He will make your paths straight.” (Psalm 3:5-6 NIV) It’s the questions I get every day from students that prove their genuine interest and this scripture that keeps me going. September will be the month that I get my feet wet. Student Government elections are coming up and that’s all me so you know it’s going to be intense! I’ll have photo’s and videos of the speeches and campaign material.

My Spiritual Journey with Ramazan

As you may or may not know during the month of August the Islamic faith celebrates their Ramazan holiday! Some of you may know the holiday as Ramadan.  Ramazan is marked by the ninth month of the calendar and for that month participants fast from eating, drinking, and sexual activity during the day to develop patience, humility, and submissiveness to God (Allah). I am not Muslim however I work in a school that is 90% Muslim which means that everyone I am trying to build a relationship with is a participant of Ramazan and fast. After doing some research and learning the meaning behind this holiday, I felt that patience, humility, and submissiveness to God are all things that I need to work on as well, and I asked myself what I have done for my God lately? So I’ve decided to fast! Not as a participant of Ramazan but as a young Christian wanting to build a better relationship with God.  I am following a model from Elizabeth Baptist Church in Atlanta, GA. I tried this fast before but didn’t do as well towards the end. This time I am making a commitment and sticking to it. What I realized is that everyone has to do the fast that is right for them. Fasting is about sacrifice but it’s also about developing yourself so there’s no need to set unrealistic expectations. No matter how big or small your sacrifice, it is still a sacrifice, and for me it’s still a start.

On August 1^st I began my 31 days of a partial fast. Each day I pray for something or someone ranging from my purpose in life to the fruits of the spirit.  I read relevant passages from the Bible and write in my journal to God.  I am only on day 7 and I feel that I have already been tested. The biggest lesson I have learned thus far is to allow God to take all your fears, doubts, worries, and insecurities away. This has been difficult for me because being in a new country is nothing but fear, doubt, worry, and insecurity. I have found myself fearing for my life during the night, doubting my purpose in my program, worrying about my health, and being insecure about who I am and what I can offer. I will be honest and say that I am struggling and most times I have no one to talk to about how I feel. Let me be clear and say that it is not because I am alone, but it is because you truly cannot understand unless you are here with me. The good news is that I am learning to fight fear with faith and that I have blessed with a “Hydrabestie” named Malika who makes me feel like everything is ok.  She still say’s I’m crazy but she knows that I’m not that crazy!

I went to church for the first time here and met every person of African origin in Hyderabad and saw almost every other expat in the city. The choir was replaced by a soft rock band and by the end of the service I felt like I was at a concert! Different but refreshing! I’m excited to see how many lessons I will learn and how many amazing people I will meet along my spiritual journey.  I already have three new friends and seven lessons and I’m so ready for more!

Robbed and Married in the Same Week....Almost : Part Two

 The weekend comes and I realize that I will be beginning my full time job in three days and this is when I can’t take it any longer. I cannot continue to live like this! After much research from Nampally and the Internet I tell my program manager how 2500 rupees just isn’t going to cut it and I convince her to give me another 2500 bringing me to a grand total of 5,000 rupees for a wooden wardrobe despite the fact that every wardrobe I found was 10,00-13,00 rupees. I tell myself that I am going to make the most out of this 5,000 and after hours on the Internet and two lost in translation calls I confirmed that there was a wooden wardrobe on sale at a furniture store that could deliver! This was exciting to me because not only did the store have a website, (which is so progressive for Indian businesses) but because there was a delivery truck not a tiny auto.  I was so excited until I realized it was almost 45 minutes away from my house which automatically spelled ADVENTURE! Despite the fact that I’m wasn’t looking forward to riding in an auto for 40 minutes and being ripped off, I woke up Saturday morning ready to get it over with.

It all began with the daunting task of finding an auto that would not only give me a fair price but actually know where the furniture store was! Many auto drivers (taxi drivers) do not know how to get around the city which is an adjustment for me because in the US we are accustomed to just jumping in a taxi, giving the address, and getting there; but again I recognize I’m not in the US. I flag down an auto only for him to quote me 200 rupees!! HELL NAW! I keep walking, telling myself with every step “Martice you cannot allow yourself to get cheated, you still have eight months here”. The next auto agrees to take me and turn on his meter which may be expensive but at least you know what you’re being charged for. This almost worked out until I realized he lied to me and didn’t know where he was taking me. He literally turned right when we should have turned left and this was within the first five minutes! So again, I already promised myself not to be taken advantage of, and I jump out.  Yes, I jump out of a moving auto and walk away.  The driver follows me for awhile saying I have to give him money but the only thing I pay him is no mind. I get to a central area of the city and get in another auto, this time after meeting another Nigerian who sees stress on my face and wants to help (how this keeps happening I do not know, but it’s starting to freak me out, especially because when I studied abroad in Barcelona there was a Nigerian who called me twice a day).

This is when it gets ugly because again this auto driver doesn’t know where he’s taking me and has already cheated me with a price of 160 rupees, so again I jump out.  This time it didn’t go so well. The driver starts cursing me out in Telegu and keeps shouting to give him money. I ignore him for as long as I can until something takes over me and I’m standing on the side of the road in an Indian kurta with my middle finger up saying F**K YOUUUUUUU!!! I was so upset. In some crazy way I felt like this was a Civil Rights back of the bus moment and I would rather boycott the bus ( auto) then sit on the back( be cheated).

 I walk towards a group of auto drivers knowing that my auto driver from hell will be there but by that point I don’t care, I’m in full West Philly mode. I get to the throng of auto drivers and ask them all if they know where my furniture store is and who will take me.  “Auto driver from hell” is now telling all the auto drivers that I have to give him his money and how he won’t allow anyone to leave without receiving it. I find a kind driver who says he knows where he’s going and he will take me but I have to pay my “auto driver from hell”. Again, HELL NO! I know I can be a brat, but he literally took me down one stop light. So my new kind auto driver gets enough balls and after much screaming and small hits we pull off. Again, I don’t know what came over me but once we stopped at a light I realized tears were coming down my cheeks. I was crying. I am known to be a cry baby but I honestly didn’t understand how emotion engulfed me so quickly at the light. I think I was just tired, not from the heat or from being in the country, but tired of fighting for everything.  Having the ability to fight for what you want and believe builds character but it is also draining and sometimes you want things to be a little easier.  The kind auto driver, whose name is Adil sees my tears and ask “Maam, why are you crying?”  I can’t answer him; I just close my eyes and tell myself that everything is going to be ok.  I think that it was in this moment that he fell in love with me.

For the entire ride he questions me about marriage, and love, and if I have a boyfriend or someone special in my heart. I answer all his questions honestly saying, “No” but not realizing that I should have lied saying I was married to a crazy man! He takes me to the furniture store waits for me to be done so that he can take me back home and offers to buy me a small snack of sprite and chips.  I realize that his questions are suspect so I decide that he will not be taking me home! I have him drop me off at a nearby landmark and pay him a little extra since he was so nice. He tries to give me the money back and says “May I be frank with you?”  I’m starting to think that I haven’t given him enough money but then he blurts out “I am in love with you, from the bottom of my heart, you seem like such a good person”. AWKWARD SILENCE!  I finally say “thank you” because I didn’t know what else to say.  He responds by saying “so do you understand and accept my proposal?” This is when I get confused.  I say “yes” because I did understand what he was saying but he thought I said yes to his proposal and quickly added “really? So you will come with me to my home and meet my parents tonight or tomorrow?”

This story has been long enough but of course I didn’t go to his home and meet his family but I did tell him that I was sorry and that I was not in love with him. It hurt his feelings and he said he could wait for me. He has my number now from when I called him at the furniture store and calls me four times a day.  For now I’m safe but if anything should happen to me, know that it was Adil from Kothapet who drives the auto and went to college, it may not seem like a lot of information but here in India it will get you very far. 

Robbed and Married in the Same Week.... Almost : Part One

This week has had its fair share of ups and downs….actually there have been more downs than ups to be honest. Since arriving to Hyderabad I’ve battled not having a mattress, water, a toilet, a wardrobe for clothes, a phone, and last but almost most important in our world today… internet! Settling   in has been a nightmare but I’m slowly but surely building my perfect room that will provide calm from the chaos. In the meantime I will continue to share my chaos with you all.

So back to the part about no wardrobe for my clothes. This was one of my many to do’s that needed to be accomplished since I’ve been living out of a suitcase. My program manager gave me 2500 rupees ($ 56.00 USD which was shady because you can’t even find a dresser for 50.00 at IKEA) and tells me I can find something in an area called Nampally.  Quick background on Nampally. The area is known as a suburb of Hyderabad and in my opinion is Muslim as hell with little to no foreign visitors.  So here I am with two other male IDEX fellows’ one black and one clearly foreign with white skin and ginger red hair. We fit right in with the women in black burkas and men with long beards with our jeans and my braids (the real give-away). We decide to split for five minutes so the guys could get keys made and I could find a wardrobe. Somehow we didn’t find each other in five minutes so I searched for them at every key story with no sign. I finally decided to continue looking for the wardrobe because I had already invested in the auto ride and refused to come this far to leave empty handed.

I go to store after store and find the same in each one…steal lockers! Some look like wood on the outside but it was just for decoration because on the inside it was also steel!  Now, just in case anyone is wondering why this means so much to me to have a wooden wardrobe let me help you understand.

1.       As Oprah says “your home is your salvation” and who wants their salvation to be tacky?!

2.       My roommates who pay 2,000 rupees less than me have huge Mahogany wood wardrobes with cute little shelves to organize and a mirror! So I felt like I deserved the same .Does this make me a brat, maybe a little, but so what?

Now back to the story….As I wander from store to store it becomes darker and I’m walking deeper into Nampally. Men are beginning to direct me to dark alleyways to find my treasured wardrobe and this is when I start to feel uncomfortable. As I walk down a small dark street I start to think “what if this man told me to come down here and he paged his friend to meet me and rob me!” now this may sound crazy but after looking back and seeing the man on the phone while yelling for me to keep going it didn’t sound too far off to me. I turn around because I didn’t want to be the dumb person in the horror movie that goes towards danger when it’s so obvious you should turn around!

At this point I’m almost about to freak out because more men are looking at me and pointing and speaking in Hindi. Some start to follow me but not for long, so I calm down and decide it’s time to go home. I began to walk around to find an auto when I hear someone say “Hey”.   I don’t stop walking, because it’s normal for Indians to say “hey” or “hello” to someone they think is American.  However something makes me look back, and that’s when I see what was THE most comforting thing in 3 hours. Little locks and dark skin.  A BLACK MAN!

To make this long story short, he saved me and made sure I got home safely. He happened to be a Nigerian named Jango and even introduced me to a Nigerian church in my community! I haven’t visited yet but of course you all will get all the details. So I made it home without being robbed but I also went home empty handed, and of course that means my journey was not over….. read part two for more on the madness!

African Diaspora in India!

Hyderabadi Briyani Music Video

F**K You !!!!!

So I've arrived in Hyderabad, India and I have been trying to remember, why did I decide to do this again? I arrived with feelings of indifference. Of course I had my moment at the airport telling my mom goodbye but other than that I felt like my overall feelings about this “new exciting adventure in life”  was really blah blah. Well of course, actually being here changes that. 

I get off the plane that was supposed to arrive at 8:00pm at 8:15pm. Not a big deal but definitely my first introduction to India. Here in India the concept of time is pretty much non-existent.  The 15 minute delay in my arrival is nothing compared to ordering furniture for next day delivery and literally waiting a week or paying for Internet service for three months then not hearing from the Internet guy in two days. The saying that begins “to be on time is to be early….”  In India begins “to be on time is to be a damn fool”. If you are supposed to meet someone for coffee at noon you shouldn’t get worried until after 1:00pm if they haven’t arrived.  But hey what’s the rush, right? 

So I spend almost two hours between customs which isn’t bad until I spend another thirty minutes trying to find my driver who should have a big sign that says MARTICE.  As I’m walking around trying to look like I’m ok while the entire airport stares at me, a young boy comes up to me asking if I need a taxi. I try to tell him that I’m ok but he continues to introduce himself anyway and persists on staying around to say that he will take me where I need to go for 400 rupees. So this is when I tell him again that I have a driver and I tell him my name. He responds by saying “you are Martice?” I say “yes”, and then he honestly saves me another thirty minutes and says “Your driver is upstairs looking for you”. I thank him politely and begin trudging my baggage back up to the elevator and he follows me, so this is when I get a little nervous because although he is a young boy, I am in a dim lit corner in India with a boy who has already made it clear he wants my money.  I say to him again, in a more convincing tone that “I am ok” so he walks away.

 I start to feel a little better until I get off the elevator and the boy is there again screaming my name, “Martice, Martice”.  I felt like I had no choice so I walk over to him giving him a shy smile and say “hey, thanks again”.  But he insists on showing me where my driver is, I follow because of course at this point I’m so ready to get home.  I find the driver and another fellow and was off to the taxi. As I’m walking I see the boy near but I’m assuming he’s just headed outside in our direction until I see him walk to our taxi and patiently wait while my baggage is loaded in the trunk. I get in and close the door and look to my left and see the young boy no older than 14 with his middle finger on the window pointed directly at me! He had a stern look on his face that matched his finger with a F**k You!  I couldn’t believe it! I knew that I would have to deal with children begging but not children flipping me off.  All I could think was… Welcome to India. 

India Calling

So it’s finally starting to hit me. I'm going to India. It's not a dream about visiting landmarks; it’s a reality of finding an apartment, going to travel clinics, and applying for visas.  I have always wanted to come to India. I'm not exactly sure why I became so fascinated with the country or when exactly, I just know that I can think as far back as being in middle school and thinking about what it would be like to be there. I'm sure me falling in love with the motion picture Slumdog Millionaire also had something to do with it.

I became serious about my passion for India once I was in college. It seemed to be a place that encompassed all that I wanted to do.  The international studies major in me wanted to go there to fight for women's and children's rights but the marketing concentration side of me wanted to research business development. So now I'm finally going and I was able to mix a little of both in my profession. I will be a part of the IDEX fellowship for social enterprise. As an IDEX fellow I will be consulting Affordable Private Schools of India on ways to improve education for the poor.

Despite my intense fascination. I realized. I knew nothing about Indian culture outside of curry, Bollywood, and caste. I decided to read as much as I could before leaving which is how I landed on the book India Calling by Anand Giridharadas. In the book he provides insight on the "new India" that has emerged and his experiences within this new place. He describes the "new India" to be a place filled with dreams, ambition, pride, anger, love, and freedom. What I found to be most important in the book was that the change was not so much in the "new India" but in the new emerging generation. It is the generation of young millenials that dream beyond the reaches of their ancestors, that have ambition to overcome obstacles that stopped others, that have pride in their hard work and ideas of change. The new generation has taken anger and fostered it into action that encourages love throughout the world and freedom for all. I am a part of the new generation that strives for change and my first stop is Hyderabad, India.