Thanksgiving: Part Deux (as promised)

28.Nov.08: Despite the lack of electricity during most of the day, and the unstable situation in Mumbai, four expats gathered together last Thursday evening for a celebratory feast. Nothing would stand in the way of gluttony! Not even the fact that no hired-cars were available because they were not about to risk driving in the rains. Donning our ostentatious Wellies, rolled-up pants, and overnight bags (just in case), my roommate and I juggled the prepared dishes, extra groceries, and single umbrella, as we made our way up the driveway to flag down (with what hands??) an auto-rickshaw.
How this unsteady mode-of-transportation seemed to be the only viable option that stormy night is beyond my non-engineering mind. Yet, there we were. If I’d had a free hand, there would have been more visual documentation of how ridiculous we must have looked! Any attempt to keep water off my good-natured roommate was futile. Every time I shifted bags to shake an elbow towards the on-coming autos, she became my umbrella’s dumping ground.

Most of the yellow-painted three-wheelers were already packed full. The wait for a ride was so long; my roomie had to sit on the side of the muddy road before she dropped our increasingly heavy dessert. By the time an empty auto pulled over for us (probably for a good laugh), we were completely drenched…and willing to pay whatever fortune our driver requested. The fortitude produced by the promise of a large meal, laced with nostalgia, is incredible!

Our friend’s warm, clean apartment was such a welcome sight. Another friend arrived shortly after us, and together, the four of us shared a glorious meal. My roommate (a Kiwi, who lived in the States for a couple Thanksgivings as a child) generously provided two essentials: the cranberry sauce (which came in a jar, but we were in no position to be choosy) and the stuffing. Our hostess managed to acquire and/or produce two large chickens, mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, fruit salad, and broccoli (the first I’d seen here!!!) smothered in Velveeta cheese (a treat from home). It was beautiful.

After making ourselves sick from eating more food in one sitting than we were used to, we returned to watching the news about Mumbai. I’d followed the reports via the internet whenever we’d had power throughout the day, but it was fascinating to watch the news unfold on a television. We called friends in the area to make sure they were still okay. We discussed the implications for the rest of South Asia. And we were devastated for the citizens of India and Pakistan.

We are in an area that is traditionally known to be fairly peaceful. Despite our feeling of safety, we are not naïve to the fact that anything is possible. A local law college was shut down last month due to riots between castes. What may appear to be a religious conflict is, in actuality, a clash between the have and the have-nots; between those who believe they have power over others, and those who have grown tired of being oppressed. It is an issue that has been brewing for centuries.

At first, this was cause for hesitation in moving here: how can I only live for a year in a culture just waking up to its overwhelming social problems, and expect to make an impact? How can I expect to find any hope? But despite the risks and my fears, my heart has been changed. I cannot imagine a better time to be here. Among the youth, there is an openness to discuss these issues; and for me, the opportunity for a deeper understanding of those which I have barely even scratched the surface.
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Part of my hesitation came from the mixture of rich and poor. Despite my being a volunteer here, I am living in one of the nicer neighborhoods. Granted six of us live there to make it affordable, but we feel safe, and it came furnished.

Every day, I take an auto to work. It picks us up at the edge of our driveway, and put-puts for ten minutes past a river, which smells like a soiled diaper. Thousands of families have set-up house on the slopes that border this river. Their coconut-leaf roofs peak just above the “sidewalk,” so that the home life of the many street children and beggars we pass each day is easier to ignore. The suffering right outside my door (literally, two buildings down) is appalling.

What I find even more appalling is learning how I have become one of those “rich” people who appears complacent to the “poor” around me: it took two whole days before I heard about the damage inflicted upon these families by the recent record-breaking rains of a passing cyclone. Apparently, a nearby reservoir had reached its capacity of 22-feet, and had to be opened to relieve pressure. Waves gushed forcefully through the opened shutters from ten o’clock Thursday (Thanksgiving) morning until later that evening.

Water levels rose quickly, leaving families occupying the river bed with little time to evacuate. The current swept through their fragile shelters, indiscriminately snatching whatever it could find, including, in its greed, human life. Overall, 51 (documented) lives were lost; approximately 1,380 areas were affected; and at least 168,000 people have been impacted by the flooding.

[A picture of the water being released, from the local paper]

When I first heard this from some local friends, I was told the families most at risk were given no warning. While I cannot verify this fact, I simply cannot imagine how these particular families would have gotten “the message” (most can’t read, probably don’t have phone access, certainly don’t have internet or television…so if the government sent a warning, they would have had to go door to door, which is highly unlikely!) .

The river level covered all but the little bit of roof that we see poking over the sidewalk for several days after the initial release. There was no chance of ignoring the increase in numbers of cows and families that now occupied the edges of the streets. Massive relief efforts, however, are supposedly in full swing. The Government is dispensing funds for families to rebuild damage done to their homes. Moreover, the deceased’s’ next-of-kin will receive an equivalent of US $2,060 for the life lost. Um, yep, I’m sure that should about cover it…?????? Sigh.

To think that this happened right down my street without my realizing it frustrates me to no end. What am I doing if I’m not interacting with my neighbors? If I don’t know what’s happening in my own neighborhood? At least my eyes have been opened to my weakness in this area. I have hope that I will not continue to waste any opportunity to learn about the good, and the bad of my temporary home; to really understand how the choices we make impact those around us; and how important it is to see the whole picture, not just what’s on my immediate right and left. Ooh boy, is this gonna be fun…