Playa in the Himalaya's : Day One!

So as you all know I went on a mini-vacation to the Himalaya’s! More specifically, I went to Dharamsala, a city in the state of Himachal Pradesh which is comprised of many cities that lay in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. Dharamsala is the city which is famously known as the home of the Dalai Lama so I felt that if there was no other city I visited it had to be this one. My journey started with a short flight to Delhi, a 12 hour night bus to Amritsar to visit the Golden Temple, and another 10 hour bus ride to Dharamsala. What I thought would be an intense spiritual or adventure vacation turned out to be a relaxing vacation of reflection, although day one of this journey had me thinking it would be my last days.



Day One:


So even before leaving Hyderabad I got into an argument with two auto drivers. One because he told me he would take me to the airport and then midway wanted to change the price so I got out, and the second because he took me to the airport using a meter but then wanted to charge me a price different than the meter once we arrived. Both of these experiences left me thinking that I made the right decision to get out of Hyderabad, even if I was going alone. I will be honest and say that I had mixed feelings about traveling alone. At first I was so down for it, and then after entertaining the idea of going with someone I felt a small comfort so then when the plan went back to me going solo I was somewhat nervous about traveling so far without a friend or a weapon! My flight went smoothly, finding the train station went smoothly, so I knew it was too good to be true.


Upon arriving to New Delhi railway all of a sudden there were throngs of people. All running! I didn’t get it because everyone was running to nothing. I made my way through the crowd and was told that my train to Amritsar would be leaving from platform one, I go to platform one after walking 8 minutes to find out the train to Amritsar is leaving from platform two. I go to platform two and learn that there is no train going to Amritsar. At this point I’m confused….so is there no train from this platform or from this station? The attendant assures me that there is no train from this station. Somewhat blown, but still optimistic I go back to the tourist information office to make sure I’m receiving the correct information, especially since this was the office that directed me to platform one. I sit there for twenty minutes waiting for someone to help me even though no one is doing anything only for them to confirm that there are no trains to Amritsar leaving until morning. The first thing I think of is that maybe I’m supposed to miss Amritsar and go straight to Dharamsala, so I ask about a train there but got the same result. There was no way I was staying in Delhi for the night! The city made me feel too uncomfortable and on guard. I’m informed that I can take a bus and still stay on my schedule to arrive to Amritsar in the morning. This seemed to be the way to go, so I brave up and walk towards the metro. At this point it’s about 7 or 8 at night and here I am not only the only foreigner in this metro station but literally the only woman within sight. I push it out but only grow more uneasy once I get off and realize I don’t know where to go. I ask a police officer for help and he starts to lead me towards a dark alley. I feel bad to admit but even though he was a police officer I still felt like he could be tricking me, this was Delhi, and everyone I’ve ever asked about the city told me that everyone there is out to get you. He leaves me at the end of the alley where there is light and tells me that it’s ok for me to go down some steps.


This is when I’m so mad at myself for trying to be brave and do this alone. I did not want to go down those steps. I couldn’t see that there was anything down the stairs but I said a quick prayer and went for it…what else could I do. So after going down the stairs that felt never ending I had to squeeze through a passage which opened up to a small parking lot with buses. I was grateful to see the buses but nervous about what I saw. Again, nothing but men and buses that looked like they should have been out of service. I try to explain to a man where I’m going and ask for his help about which bus to get on. We go back and forth about a bus leaving at that time for Jaldahar which is close to Amritsar and waiting another hour for a bus that may go straight to Amritsar. I felt like I had no choice but to get on this bus to Jaldahar but I will admit that I was so damn scared. I felt like I was straying from the plan and that I was helpless because I didn’t know where I was or how to get where I was going.


All of a sudden a man speaking English comes up to me and explains that getting on the bus to Jaldahar was the best for me to do. He ensures me that he’s going to Amritsar as well and will show me. So I listen to him and as the bus is pulling off I run to jump on. I sit in the middle of the bus and the English speaking man sits next to me. Again, I’m scared as shit because he has a bandanna on his face and I just don’t know what to think because again I’m the only foreigner and woman on the bus. He sits next to me (only making me more uncomfortable) and starts asking me questions and talking to me. I answer all his questions with short made up answers, and then I realize that he’s asking me to come to his house. “What?” I ask because I’m confused. “Yes, you can come to my home and meet my family, my wife and kids, daughters” he says. “No thank you” I say in the nicest tone possible. “Why not? You don’t ‘want to meet my family, it is my wife and daughters”. So I ask him “You have daughters, what are their names?” He pauses and starts to stumble…SUS! “ Deb…” and I can’t remember what he said his other daughter’s name was, I think I forgot because that’s when I realized I was sitting next to a man that was trying to get me off the bus with him and do God knows what. I also realized that I definitely couldn’t fall asleep because who knows what could happen as soon as I closed my eyes. So there I am at 9:00pm on a bus filled with men, with the English speaking man next to me still talking to me about how it’s ok and I should come with him, everyone else on the bus staring at me, no weapon, and feeling like anything could happen to me. All I could do was think to myself “Martice, WTF are you going to do?!!!”

WILDIN OUT/ F**CK YOU !!!!

Everyone is wildin out! For my readers that may not understand my lingo, “Wildin out” means having a moment where you are crazy, crunk, or simply outside of your normal character. And when I say everyone I mean everyone! From roommates to rickshaw drivers.


I was talking to one of my roommates after one of her “wildin out” moments and we both agreed that here in India everything is accelerated and because of this everything about you including and most importantly your emotions are heightened. It is for this reason that if one of my roommates has a fit about the dishes or who drank their milk I don’t get crunk, because I realize how even the smallest things here can bring out the worst in you. Now for the worst in me…lately I’ve found myself more aggressive than usual. Some of you may find that hard to believe but for all those that truly know me I really am a sweet, loving, person. So let me share my “wildin out” moment.

It all started with a simple bus ride to the mall. I was excited because I was treating myself to KFC which had me in such a good mood. All I could think about was the crunchy goodness that I was about to indulge in. As I'm having my crunchy good chicken thoughts in my head the bus comes to a stop and I’m about to get off. At the very same moment almost 5 Indian women literally jumped on me trying to get on the bus. WHAT THE HELL?! Immediately all crunchy good chicken thoughts left my mind and I immediately kicked into my West Philly mode and pushed them off of me saying” WHAT THE HELL! WAIT FOR THE BUS TO STOP! (Now I understand that here in Hyderabad the bus doesn’t always come to a stop and sometimes you have to hop on to catch the bus but still this was overboard) They look at me and laugh…probably thinking in their heads the African (yes because black Americans do not exist) has gone mad. So of course I’m not done because I’m still not off the bus and once I get off I see that my roommate is still caught in between the madness! This is when I say “do you think it’s funny, get the hell off of her”. I wanted to add “when I slap you it won’t be funny” but I thought that was taking it too far, even throughout all this I didn’t want to be the angry black woman. Lol. So we walk away and have our crunchy goodness.

Now my next story is when I really started “wildin out”. So my friend Malika and I go to the mall (yes to have more KFC) and were enjoying our night until it begins to rain and we have to get home. It’s already known that autos outside the mall will always overcharge but considering the rain we’re thinking we may give in. So we go for it and run into the rain to flag down an auto, and when one stops we begin bargaining until a traffic police officer and an Indian couple come over and attempt to get inside the auto. Immediately this is what runs through both me and Malika’s mind….WHAT THE HELL! I was too livid and confused to speak so Malika says to the officer “are you giving away our auto?!” he looks at us says something in Hindi/ Telegu and gives us a smirk…at this point we told the couple to get out. I guess for repayment the officer makes the auto move on and not service us. So now were in the rain…just standing in the rain. I had it. “What the hell is wrong with you, do you think you can’t just treat people like that you asshole!” It came out of nowhere, I found myself cursing him out with my own language of Hindi and English. I just started making up words!

We walk to the bus stop because we refuse to give in at this point and we kindly get on a nice metro bus. Now the metro bus is more expensive than my normal bus so I was prepared to pay a little extra. Of course it couldn’t be a smooth bus ride. We sit down and everyone stares at us (were used to it now). The collector comes by us and sees two other darker skinned men and tells them to pay for 4 (assuming that since we’re all dark, we must be together right?)

We tell him that’s not the case and he tells us 12 rupees each (shout out in a shady way). Now, we know it shouldn’t be 4 rupees, but 12 for the next stop? Nope…sus! We explain to him that we're getting off at the next stop and it shouldn’t be 12 rupees, he looks at us and just responds by saying “12 rupees”. So we tell him we’ll get off because after all we’d been through we refused to be cheated! As were getting off the driver asks “Madame what is wrong?” I tell him that we were getting off at the next stop and it’s not 12 rupees. He responds by saying “yes Madame its 7 rupees”. This seems to make sense so I step back up towards a seat and tell the collector what the driver has said. (At this point, Malika is over it and not moving). This is when it gets tricky. The collector says no and yells to the driver. Next thing I know the driver says “8rupees Madame”. WHAT! DID YOU JUST TRY TO PLAY US?!

All I could think was that they needed to get on one accord. At least if you’re going to cheat me let the driver know and agree on the tourist rate. TRASH! Of course we stopped the bus and got off. Everyone is looking at us like were crazy and talking to one another about us, and the collector is saying we don’t know what we’re talking about. Ooop….Sir. We both tore into him. “We know what we’re talking about, you tried to cheat us and we caught you” yells Malika. “You think we never take the bus because were Americans, and don’t know the rates? “. I became heated and irritated that we were the crazy ones after they tried to take advantage of us. Next thing you know both Malika and I are following the bus yelling “F**K You!” with our middle fingers waving in the air because we knew they would understand that. This is when I really “wild out” and picked up a sandal on the ground and threw it at the bus.

For some reason at the same time Malika and I burst out laughing. It was such a classic “frustrated with Hyderabad” moment. We laughed and walked the whole way home in the rain, cussing out anyone who looked at us twice.



Just another day in my hood. Lol.

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