it was brought to my attention that some of the subjects i talk about may not be appropriate for some middle schoolers who may or may not be reading my blog and this is what i have to say on the subject...
On my first day of sixth grade my teacher told us she was preparing us for college. I’ll admit I was a little intimidated at that point. I’ll let the teachers censor it for them if they want.
For those of you who don’t understand I’m trying to do a vicarious voyage thing with a class back at home. I’m going to write about things we are learning in class and things I’m experiencing on the ship because that is all I have to write and think about. Let it be known that there are consequences for your actions here on this ship. Even that guy who got drunk isn’t allowed to buy drink tickets anymore or be seen drunk. If he violates those, he will be thrown out of here so fast.
Don’t worry, the packet I sent to the class before India focused on the Caste system and the one I’m sending them in Egypt focuses on Whirling Dervishes. So I’m not asking them to study FGM or anything. But I also refuse to stylize my writing for one specific group of people. I’m also writing this for people who may take the voyage in the future or maybe even a random stalker or two. And I wouldn’t want to bore them now would I?
I could have written about the dead bodies we saw in India. Would that have been better?
Maybe I could put a little bit of a warning before going into “non sixth grade” things? No that would mean too much thinking about what is and what isn’t a sixth grade appropriate topic. And heck if I know what is. Not to mention that would make it even more likely that they would read it. Teenage mentality and all.
I’ll finish with this. I can’t perceive how my tone of voice is going to sound in this entry. I don’t want to freak out the class that may read this blog and no, I don’t think they should be actively learning about FGM, but this is my experience. I’m not going to dice it up because I’ve stopped writing in my journal religiously—hurts my hand too much. When I get back the changes I see in people and in myself will have been caused by the experience as a whole, not just the bits that were easy to swallow.
DD
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
India and Burma
October 21, 2006
First of all…
I’m HAPPY to let y’all know that I’ve been accepted to Appalachian State University! Yay ME! I’m going to have an impossible time signing up for classes and stuff like that. A few people including one of my friends were kicked off the ship for drugs. I was really sad to hear that she had to leave. I always had a lot of fun with her I thought she was just really nice and everything. Sometimes you can’t help what your friends do. I was starting to wonder what you have to do to get kicked off this ship. They don’t kick off the guy that gets drunk and scares the crap out of some girl while trying to force himself into her room.
On an even sadder note, my RD, Nam, had to leave the ship as well. Her mom is unexpectedly really sick and she needed to go be with her. Already, I notice the difference with not having our own RD. Things are crazy with the Sea ‘Lympics and whatnot. It’s all over the place. When you’re trying to take down an army go for the officers who organize them. BUT WE WILL GET IT TOGETHER AND BRING HOME THAT TROPHY! Not to mention people were being way too loud in the hall at midnight and no one was there to come out and crack some skulls together.
BURMA
Yangon was located about 45 minutes from where the ship was docked. The city itself was disgusting. All the pollution and everything was really bothering me. And the friend that I was with was talking about staying on the ship the next day and not even leaving. I have a rule that I made myself about doing homework while in port. While we are in port homework is not something I will do. The point of being in these countries is to go see the countries. So when we were coming home from an orphanage visit to have lunch on the ship, I heard some other people talk about going to an elephant sanctuary. I’ll do that any time. And it was an opportunity to leave the city.
So we ate and then packed and took the shuttle back into the city. I was with Suz, Kimmie, and Alex. Alex and Suz, I think, had found a local that took them around the city on their first day and was nice and legit. The guy I found with Wendy and Andrew was not legit and wanted 10 bucks just for walking us around for an hour (and yes that is a lot especially because he kept taking us to places with government goods).
I didn’t expect to be going for very long. I thought I was only going to be gone for like one night and be back the next morning. So I only packed like one pair of jeans and a few shirts. So I had to borrow money and clothes, but the friends I were with were totally awesome about it.
We told Toe that we wanted to go to see elephants somewhere. So he hooked us up with some one else that had pictures of past kids he had taken on trips and itineraries set up for people who wanted to go on 15 or 20 day trips.
This may all sound pretty crazy, but I felt secure the entire time. Our only goal was to spend as little money as possible that would go to the government.
We hopped in a van with Robert and his driver and were off. The car ride that was supposed to be only 5 hours turned into 8 hours. But the countryside was beautiful and I was so happy to get out of the city at last. I had been in the city in Vietnam, Hong Kong, and Japan so this was nice. I could almost trick myself into thinking I was home. The big difference was the smells and the guys walking around in skirts. Not to mention the women and girls were all wearing yellow make up on their face. It looked like yellow paint. It’s for mosquito and sun protection. But it also keeps their skin pale, which is what a lot of women aim for in these countries.
We arrived in Pyay fairly late, I don’t remember and Robert took us to a cheap, but decent hotel. At least it was better than the love hotel in Japan. We pretty much just went to sleep that night. The next morning, Robert drove us to this village where he said there was jungle and blahblahblah. When we got there, the kids immediately came up to us, but they didn’t beg for money, they just stared. We gave them lollipops and it was so cute because they didn’t know what to do with them. So we unwrapped some and put them in our mouths and they did the same. They threw the wrappers on the ground too, which is something that they are used to I’m sure. We picked up the wrappers for them and packed them out. This village was pretty far from products that have wrappers and we didn’t want to be the ones to introduce it to them. Their lives are very sustainable. They eat what they grow and then they burn their rubbish at night as a way to get rid of it and to keep the bugs down.
In this village, there was a museum that Robert said had a jungle behind it that had the ruins of some old temples and things. The museum wanted to charge us 9 bucks to get in. We didn’t want to spend that much on the museum because we had enough for food and hotel. Then we had emergency money in case Robert turned out to be a not so legit guy and tried to leave us we could offer him more money.
That never happened, Robert was a good guy. We explained to him that we wanted a dense jungle to hike in. He was reluctant because he knew the road to the village wasn’t that good and it was another 2 hours away. But that’s what we wanted and that’s what we got.
The mountains were absolutely beautiful. Everywhere they were replanting teak trees—which is Burma’s major export. We kept going up and around and finally came to the most remote village ever! It was great. Everybody was so tiny and staring at us. Robert talked to one of the locals for a minute before he found a guide that would take us on the trial through the mountains. Once again sounds risky, but Robert wasn’t about to let us disappear because he didn’t have all of his money yet.
We bought some sealed crackers and peanuts and things at this little stand in the village to take with us on the hike. It was the hardest hike I’ve ever been on in my life. I’m not sure what it was that kicked my butt. It was only about 8 miles. All the miles in Philmont didn’t compare to this one hike. It was immediately uphill and jagged and turning and muddy. It was so muddy I couldn’t believe it. We basically hiked in elephant tracks for a lot of the time. After about an hour we finally saw our first elephant. The poor elephant was carrying two guys and had a cut on his face. He was really well trained and went up and down at the slightest signal. After the elephant, we hiked some more. It was soo cool. Alex took a good fall and cut his arm. And our guide picked a plant and put it on the cut and the bleeding stopped immediately.
He took us to this really cool stream and we sat and ate for a little while. The water felt so good to splash on our heads and everything. We hiked through another village where all the dogs growled at us. I’ve never had so many dogs growling at me at the same time. Then it was time to go back.
That mountain kicked our butts. We were practically hiking on our hands and feet up muddy hills in elephant tracks. When we got back to the village where we started the women were laughing at us because we looked so tired. And apparently they were pointing at me when I wasn’t looking because of my shaved head. Women here have really really long hair.
Robert had some one go to a place near by and so when we got back he had four beautiful bottles of water ready for us. Water never looked so good. After taking off our shoes and catching our breath, we said goodbye to the villagers and our guide and headed back to the hotel.
We went out for beers that night, but Kimmie and I went to bed relatively early (I don’t like beer I’ve decided). Suz and Alex stayed out with some locals later.
So that was Burma for me. I’m definitely going to join some Free Burma groups when I get home because I love this country now and its people. I hope that one day they will be free.
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October 23, 2006
So, all in all, I loved India, but I hated Chennai. I got so tired of the taxi drivers lying to us about when this was open and when this was closed. They would take us somewhere besides where we wanted to go. They would try to charge us more after taking us somewhere. And apparently even the interport students were surprised at how we were treated.
I didn’t have a good 2 days to get out of the city and get lost like I did in Burma because I had orphanage visits and other things in between before my Dalit Village overnight. The orphanage visit was the same as the one in Vietnam. Only this time I held a ten year old size boy that was indeed 20 years old. I told the lady, “no, I’m 20.” There was one little one year old that I held that wouldn’t let me put her down or pass her off to anybody else. I felt loved.
On to my Dalit Village stay
The Dalits are the lowest of the low in the illegal Indian caste system. The government has to set aside a certain percentage of jobs for the Dalits so that they are hired. In the past people of higher castes would wash themselves after coming into contact with Dalits.
We visited a nursing school of girls first. It is free for the girls who all come from Dalit villages around the area. These girls were so excited to see us. It was great. They had a welcoming ceremony for us and put the dot on our foreheads that I still don’t quite know what it means. So if any of you can tell me let me know. The girls were so used to doing it that they couldn’t even explain to us what it meant. They put on a show for us with singing and dancing. I’ve decided that I love Indian dancing.
The facilities were very simple, but they love what they have. The classrooms were simple and void of technology. But I did see a few computers. Dad, if you get a new comp. this school would probably take the old one. You never know. Of course getting it there is probably eh, but it just occurred to me so I typed it. Anywho, they had printouts for us about information on the school and other projects they have worked on in the past geared to educating Dalits about their rites.
We had lunch and it was actually in a very modern facility on the campus and tasted good and everything. After lunch we had an opportunity to socialize with the students and ask them some questions. One of the girls is engaged and is going to be married in 3 months and she’s only 21. So the age when women get married is pretty much 21. We told them that in America people get married in their late 20s to early 30s generally speaking. Or you know whenever they feel like it. They were so giggly talking about boys. They were like a bunch of teenagers. We asked them if any of them had boyfriends or if they were allowed to or whatever and they all started giggling.
They put on another show for us. A girl danced to Indian hip hop and it was so cute. And they put on a play that was meant to be educational. It was the type of play they would put on to educate people about their rites or various things. This one supported educating women so that they could support themselves should they need too. If for some reason they couldn’t rely on their husbands.
So after talking with them for a while it was time to play throw ball. It looked like volley ball, but the ball was heavier and the texture was rougher. And you caught the ball and threw it back over the net instead of sending it back the other way. There were rules about how you could catch the ball. Like it couldn’t touch your body when you caught it and you can’t double catch it in your own hands. Stuff like that.
We played forever. It’s a good BBQ game or picnic game. Although, I’m not sure if it was fun just because of where we were playing it and who we were playing it with. One of the guys taught them how to give ten and to touch fists together. Every time we did something good we would do that with them and each other and they would giggle and laugh and stuff. It was soo much fun.
Oh and my team won both games. We smoked them.
So then it was off to the village by that time. We showed up when it was just getting dark. As soon as we arrived they started playing the drums and some other instruments to come into the village with. The village was only one street that went on for a while. It took us about 30 minutes to get to this stage they had set up. Apparently, some of the money that we spent on the trip went towards some performers that came and put on a show for us and for the village. So it was a treat for them as well.
Some dancers performed and then this guy and girl were wearing horse costumes that were very colorful. They played with fire as well, which was always cool.
Then when they and these acrobat performers went and they did flips and things, the power went out. Which shouldn’t have been too big of a surprise since a lot of electricity was flowing into that area. It was funny to watch a guy climb up a telephone pole like nothing and then climb back down without out any aid from ropes or anything. Now that I think about it, what was amazing was seeing how dark it got for those 15 minutes or so. Couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.
When the light came back on everybody cheered. Then a group of young men danced on stage for us. I love their style of dancing. We would probably call it crazy dancing. Then the young boys came onto the stage and danced as well. The girls that came onto the stage actually had a choreographed routine and they were such good dancers. Ah! They were all so cute!
After the show was over, it was time for a late dinner from the ship and then bed. One of my worst nights ever. We slept on the roof of the concrete welcome center. It was the only concrete building in the village and I think it was the only one with electricity. The villagers may be used to this but I was definitely not. I can handle my friends’ bedroom floor or whatever, but this was concrete and my hostelling sleeping bag which is very thin. Not to mention it is very normal for them to stay up late because it isn’t as hot out, but at 2AM the locals were setting off fireworks. And they were talking talking talking non stop right outside where we were sleeping. So I read until about 3 or 4 in the morning until I was finally drowsy enough to fall asleep even on the concrete floor. But that one night was worth the village stay.
We woke around 630 in the morning, which I guess is way earlier than what the villagers are used to. But I believe this because they stay up so late at night. It makes sense that they stay up late, but at the same time, it makes sense for them to get up early. Those are the times when it’s not as hot.
We finally got to go around the village and tour houses and see what kind of conditions they people lived in. Some had alters made to their ancestors that were just 3 or 4 bricks standing next to each other. All had straw roofs and mud floors. Some with more money had brick walls with straw roofs.
We started playing hand games with them. Then we started teaching them random games. We played London Bridge is going down, the “head shoulders knees and toes” song, and various other ones. These kids were so smart, they picked it up right away. I can almost see them playing on their own right now. They were soo cute. At around the time we were supposed to leave it started getting very cloudy and we still hadn’t given the “mayor” of the village the gifts and candy we had brought with us. This way he could distribute the stuff equally among the people so that no one gets a lot and others don’t get any. And they gave us a little brass candle holder thing.
I was sad to go, but glad that the monsoon rain didn’t come in the middle of the night while we were sleeping on the roof of a building. I didn’t really do anything the last day, I didn’t want to ruin my last vision of India with more of the dreaded city and it’s lying people.
Now I’m at sea for nine days. So maybe I’ll update again. I want to write more, but this is very tiresome. I’ve stopped writing everything in my journal because I pretty much do that here. But it’s easier to type up anyway. Maybe not very personal, but that’s what scrapbooks are for.
Oh! And I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am that I didn’t go on the SAS trip to the Taj and whatever. It sounded like way too much traveling for the amount they paid. Most that I know that went on it said, “The Taj is beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking, but the trip sucked.” The only people that I know that had a good time going to the Taj trip and had a great time all together were the ones who went independently with just a few friends. I know this sounds hard, but independent travel really isn’t all that much harder. It’s just as stressful as big trips with SAS, but as long as you allow yourself time to get back on the ship and everything then you’ll be fine. The people I know that went to the Taj and stuff only spent about 200 dollars on round trip plane tickets and then who knows how little on food and lodgings. When the SAS trips cost about 1000 dollars or something. I’m just really glad I didn’t go. I can fairly easily go to the Taj any time because it’s such a touristy spot. All I need to do is call up a travel guide and say I want to go to the Taj and Veranasi and he’ll set me up. Of course if I did that then I’ll probably end up staying in too nice hotels and being very touristy instead of travlery. But that’s okay some of the time. You cant do everything. Yes there will be stuff that I wish I did, but that’s the way it is all the time, no matter what I do.
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So in my Sex and Gender Diversity class we are starting to learn about female circumcision. And we watched this wonderfully graphic movie on it. And I have to say, I’m slightly traumatized. Out of all of my anthropology classes and everything, I’ve avoided having to learn more about FGM other than that it exists. And something we had to read for the class really struck me.
In areas where this is practiced, cutting is seen as an essential part of a woman’s identity. If she does not have the surgery, she is seen as ugly, impure, and is considered an outsider. And though we may think of this practice as appalling, as an anthropologist in training, I try to look at from another perspective. An article I read by Rogaia Mustafa Abusharaf stuck with me:
“Today some girls and women in the West starve themselves obsessively. Others undergo painful and potentially dangerous medical procedures—face lifts, liposuction, breast implants and the like—to conform to cultural standards of beauty and femininity. I am not trying to equate genital cutting with eating disorders or cosmetic surgery; nevertheless, people in the industrialized world must recognize that they too are influenced, often destructively, by traditional gender roles and demands.”
The article ends with the author stating that as more women in the areas that practice this surgery are educated, the more likely they will chose not to submit their daughters to it. Women she says will make sure that FGM ends. But that is only the beginning. What will it take for women or girls to be satisfied with themselves? Is it even possible to shed the pressures of society to look or act a different way than how you were born?
In the first half of the voyage we visited countries where the people generally have darker complexions. And they go through great lengths to make their skin as pale as possible. Back in the states, people risk skin cancer to make their skin darker. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?? Not even being tan is a good thing. Tanning is your skin reacting to the sun and trying to protect itself. Now I’m not saying I’m against laying out and getting a healthy dose of Vitamin D, but some of the girls on the 7th deck on this ship are going to be pruney when we arrive back in Florida.
Hopefully, one day we will all be free.
Well those are my thoughts for now.
I think this is long enough for y’all, no?
DD
First of all…
I’m HAPPY to let y’all know that I’ve been accepted to Appalachian State University! Yay ME! I’m going to have an impossible time signing up for classes and stuff like that. A few people including one of my friends were kicked off the ship for drugs. I was really sad to hear that she had to leave. I always had a lot of fun with her I thought she was just really nice and everything. Sometimes you can’t help what your friends do. I was starting to wonder what you have to do to get kicked off this ship. They don’t kick off the guy that gets drunk and scares the crap out of some girl while trying to force himself into her room.
On an even sadder note, my RD, Nam, had to leave the ship as well. Her mom is unexpectedly really sick and she needed to go be with her. Already, I notice the difference with not having our own RD. Things are crazy with the Sea ‘Lympics and whatnot. It’s all over the place. When you’re trying to take down an army go for the officers who organize them. BUT WE WILL GET IT TOGETHER AND BRING HOME THAT TROPHY! Not to mention people were being way too loud in the hall at midnight and no one was there to come out and crack some skulls together.
BURMA
Yangon was located about 45 minutes from where the ship was docked. The city itself was disgusting. All the pollution and everything was really bothering me. And the friend that I was with was talking about staying on the ship the next day and not even leaving. I have a rule that I made myself about doing homework while in port. While we are in port homework is not something I will do. The point of being in these countries is to go see the countries. So when we were coming home from an orphanage visit to have lunch on the ship, I heard some other people talk about going to an elephant sanctuary. I’ll do that any time. And it was an opportunity to leave the city.
So we ate and then packed and took the shuttle back into the city. I was with Suz, Kimmie, and Alex. Alex and Suz, I think, had found a local that took them around the city on their first day and was nice and legit. The guy I found with Wendy and Andrew was not legit and wanted 10 bucks just for walking us around for an hour (and yes that is a lot especially because he kept taking us to places with government goods).
I didn’t expect to be going for very long. I thought I was only going to be gone for like one night and be back the next morning. So I only packed like one pair of jeans and a few shirts. So I had to borrow money and clothes, but the friends I were with were totally awesome about it.
We told Toe that we wanted to go to see elephants somewhere. So he hooked us up with some one else that had pictures of past kids he had taken on trips and itineraries set up for people who wanted to go on 15 or 20 day trips.
This may all sound pretty crazy, but I felt secure the entire time. Our only goal was to spend as little money as possible that would go to the government.
We hopped in a van with Robert and his driver and were off. The car ride that was supposed to be only 5 hours turned into 8 hours. But the countryside was beautiful and I was so happy to get out of the city at last. I had been in the city in Vietnam, Hong Kong, and Japan so this was nice. I could almost trick myself into thinking I was home. The big difference was the smells and the guys walking around in skirts. Not to mention the women and girls were all wearing yellow make up on their face. It looked like yellow paint. It’s for mosquito and sun protection. But it also keeps their skin pale, which is what a lot of women aim for in these countries.
We arrived in Pyay fairly late, I don’t remember and Robert took us to a cheap, but decent hotel. At least it was better than the love hotel in Japan. We pretty much just went to sleep that night. The next morning, Robert drove us to this village where he said there was jungle and blahblahblah. When we got there, the kids immediately came up to us, but they didn’t beg for money, they just stared. We gave them lollipops and it was so cute because they didn’t know what to do with them. So we unwrapped some and put them in our mouths and they did the same. They threw the wrappers on the ground too, which is something that they are used to I’m sure. We picked up the wrappers for them and packed them out. This village was pretty far from products that have wrappers and we didn’t want to be the ones to introduce it to them. Their lives are very sustainable. They eat what they grow and then they burn their rubbish at night as a way to get rid of it and to keep the bugs down.
In this village, there was a museum that Robert said had a jungle behind it that had the ruins of some old temples and things. The museum wanted to charge us 9 bucks to get in. We didn’t want to spend that much on the museum because we had enough for food and hotel. Then we had emergency money in case Robert turned out to be a not so legit guy and tried to leave us we could offer him more money.
That never happened, Robert was a good guy. We explained to him that we wanted a dense jungle to hike in. He was reluctant because he knew the road to the village wasn’t that good and it was another 2 hours away. But that’s what we wanted and that’s what we got.
The mountains were absolutely beautiful. Everywhere they were replanting teak trees—which is Burma’s major export. We kept going up and around and finally came to the most remote village ever! It was great. Everybody was so tiny and staring at us. Robert talked to one of the locals for a minute before he found a guide that would take us on the trial through the mountains. Once again sounds risky, but Robert wasn’t about to let us disappear because he didn’t have all of his money yet.
We bought some sealed crackers and peanuts and things at this little stand in the village to take with us on the hike. It was the hardest hike I’ve ever been on in my life. I’m not sure what it was that kicked my butt. It was only about 8 miles. All the miles in Philmont didn’t compare to this one hike. It was immediately uphill and jagged and turning and muddy. It was so muddy I couldn’t believe it. We basically hiked in elephant tracks for a lot of the time. After about an hour we finally saw our first elephant. The poor elephant was carrying two guys and had a cut on his face. He was really well trained and went up and down at the slightest signal. After the elephant, we hiked some more. It was soo cool. Alex took a good fall and cut his arm. And our guide picked a plant and put it on the cut and the bleeding stopped immediately.
He took us to this really cool stream and we sat and ate for a little while. The water felt so good to splash on our heads and everything. We hiked through another village where all the dogs growled at us. I’ve never had so many dogs growling at me at the same time. Then it was time to go back.
That mountain kicked our butts. We were practically hiking on our hands and feet up muddy hills in elephant tracks. When we got back to the village where we started the women were laughing at us because we looked so tired. And apparently they were pointing at me when I wasn’t looking because of my shaved head. Women here have really really long hair.
Robert had some one go to a place near by and so when we got back he had four beautiful bottles of water ready for us. Water never looked so good. After taking off our shoes and catching our breath, we said goodbye to the villagers and our guide and headed back to the hotel.
We went out for beers that night, but Kimmie and I went to bed relatively early (I don’t like beer I’ve decided). Suz and Alex stayed out with some locals later.
So that was Burma for me. I’m definitely going to join some Free Burma groups when I get home because I love this country now and its people. I hope that one day they will be free.
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October 23, 2006
So, all in all, I loved India, but I hated Chennai. I got so tired of the taxi drivers lying to us about when this was open and when this was closed. They would take us somewhere besides where we wanted to go. They would try to charge us more after taking us somewhere. And apparently even the interport students were surprised at how we were treated.
I didn’t have a good 2 days to get out of the city and get lost like I did in Burma because I had orphanage visits and other things in between before my Dalit Village overnight. The orphanage visit was the same as the one in Vietnam. Only this time I held a ten year old size boy that was indeed 20 years old. I told the lady, “no, I’m 20.” There was one little one year old that I held that wouldn’t let me put her down or pass her off to anybody else. I felt loved.
On to my Dalit Village stay
The Dalits are the lowest of the low in the illegal Indian caste system. The government has to set aside a certain percentage of jobs for the Dalits so that they are hired. In the past people of higher castes would wash themselves after coming into contact with Dalits.
We visited a nursing school of girls first. It is free for the girls who all come from Dalit villages around the area. These girls were so excited to see us. It was great. They had a welcoming ceremony for us and put the dot on our foreheads that I still don’t quite know what it means. So if any of you can tell me let me know. The girls were so used to doing it that they couldn’t even explain to us what it meant. They put on a show for us with singing and dancing. I’ve decided that I love Indian dancing.
The facilities were very simple, but they love what they have. The classrooms were simple and void of technology. But I did see a few computers. Dad, if you get a new comp. this school would probably take the old one. You never know. Of course getting it there is probably eh, but it just occurred to me so I typed it. Anywho, they had printouts for us about information on the school and other projects they have worked on in the past geared to educating Dalits about their rites.
We had lunch and it was actually in a very modern facility on the campus and tasted good and everything. After lunch we had an opportunity to socialize with the students and ask them some questions. One of the girls is engaged and is going to be married in 3 months and she’s only 21. So the age when women get married is pretty much 21. We told them that in America people get married in their late 20s to early 30s generally speaking. Or you know whenever they feel like it. They were so giggly talking about boys. They were like a bunch of teenagers. We asked them if any of them had boyfriends or if they were allowed to or whatever and they all started giggling.
They put on another show for us. A girl danced to Indian hip hop and it was so cute. And they put on a play that was meant to be educational. It was the type of play they would put on to educate people about their rites or various things. This one supported educating women so that they could support themselves should they need too. If for some reason they couldn’t rely on their husbands.
So after talking with them for a while it was time to play throw ball. It looked like volley ball, but the ball was heavier and the texture was rougher. And you caught the ball and threw it back over the net instead of sending it back the other way. There were rules about how you could catch the ball. Like it couldn’t touch your body when you caught it and you can’t double catch it in your own hands. Stuff like that.
We played forever. It’s a good BBQ game or picnic game. Although, I’m not sure if it was fun just because of where we were playing it and who we were playing it with. One of the guys taught them how to give ten and to touch fists together. Every time we did something good we would do that with them and each other and they would giggle and laugh and stuff. It was soo much fun.
Oh and my team won both games. We smoked them.
So then it was off to the village by that time. We showed up when it was just getting dark. As soon as we arrived they started playing the drums and some other instruments to come into the village with. The village was only one street that went on for a while. It took us about 30 minutes to get to this stage they had set up. Apparently, some of the money that we spent on the trip went towards some performers that came and put on a show for us and for the village. So it was a treat for them as well.
Some dancers performed and then this guy and girl were wearing horse costumes that were very colorful. They played with fire as well, which was always cool.
Then when they and these acrobat performers went and they did flips and things, the power went out. Which shouldn’t have been too big of a surprise since a lot of electricity was flowing into that area. It was funny to watch a guy climb up a telephone pole like nothing and then climb back down without out any aid from ropes or anything. Now that I think about it, what was amazing was seeing how dark it got for those 15 minutes or so. Couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.
When the light came back on everybody cheered. Then a group of young men danced on stage for us. I love their style of dancing. We would probably call it crazy dancing. Then the young boys came onto the stage and danced as well. The girls that came onto the stage actually had a choreographed routine and they were such good dancers. Ah! They were all so cute!
After the show was over, it was time for a late dinner from the ship and then bed. One of my worst nights ever. We slept on the roof of the concrete welcome center. It was the only concrete building in the village and I think it was the only one with electricity. The villagers may be used to this but I was definitely not. I can handle my friends’ bedroom floor or whatever, but this was concrete and my hostelling sleeping bag which is very thin. Not to mention it is very normal for them to stay up late because it isn’t as hot out, but at 2AM the locals were setting off fireworks. And they were talking talking talking non stop right outside where we were sleeping. So I read until about 3 or 4 in the morning until I was finally drowsy enough to fall asleep even on the concrete floor. But that one night was worth the village stay.
We woke around 630 in the morning, which I guess is way earlier than what the villagers are used to. But I believe this because they stay up so late at night. It makes sense that they stay up late, but at the same time, it makes sense for them to get up early. Those are the times when it’s not as hot.
We finally got to go around the village and tour houses and see what kind of conditions they people lived in. Some had alters made to their ancestors that were just 3 or 4 bricks standing next to each other. All had straw roofs and mud floors. Some with more money had brick walls with straw roofs.
We started playing hand games with them. Then we started teaching them random games. We played London Bridge is going down, the “head shoulders knees and toes” song, and various other ones. These kids were so smart, they picked it up right away. I can almost see them playing on their own right now. They were soo cute. At around the time we were supposed to leave it started getting very cloudy and we still hadn’t given the “mayor” of the village the gifts and candy we had brought with us. This way he could distribute the stuff equally among the people so that no one gets a lot and others don’t get any. And they gave us a little brass candle holder thing.
I was sad to go, but glad that the monsoon rain didn’t come in the middle of the night while we were sleeping on the roof of a building. I didn’t really do anything the last day, I didn’t want to ruin my last vision of India with more of the dreaded city and it’s lying people.
Now I’m at sea for nine days. So maybe I’ll update again. I want to write more, but this is very tiresome. I’ve stopped writing everything in my journal because I pretty much do that here. But it’s easier to type up anyway. Maybe not very personal, but that’s what scrapbooks are for.
Oh! And I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am that I didn’t go on the SAS trip to the Taj and whatever. It sounded like way too much traveling for the amount they paid. Most that I know that went on it said, “The Taj is beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking, but the trip sucked.” The only people that I know that had a good time going to the Taj trip and had a great time all together were the ones who went independently with just a few friends. I know this sounds hard, but independent travel really isn’t all that much harder. It’s just as stressful as big trips with SAS, but as long as you allow yourself time to get back on the ship and everything then you’ll be fine. The people I know that went to the Taj and stuff only spent about 200 dollars on round trip plane tickets and then who knows how little on food and lodgings. When the SAS trips cost about 1000 dollars or something. I’m just really glad I didn’t go. I can fairly easily go to the Taj any time because it’s such a touristy spot. All I need to do is call up a travel guide and say I want to go to the Taj and Veranasi and he’ll set me up. Of course if I did that then I’ll probably end up staying in too nice hotels and being very touristy instead of travlery. But that’s okay some of the time. You cant do everything. Yes there will be stuff that I wish I did, but that’s the way it is all the time, no matter what I do.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
So in my Sex and Gender Diversity class we are starting to learn about female circumcision. And we watched this wonderfully graphic movie on it. And I have to say, I’m slightly traumatized. Out of all of my anthropology classes and everything, I’ve avoided having to learn more about FGM other than that it exists. And something we had to read for the class really struck me.
In areas where this is practiced, cutting is seen as an essential part of a woman’s identity. If she does not have the surgery, she is seen as ugly, impure, and is considered an outsider. And though we may think of this practice as appalling, as an anthropologist in training, I try to look at from another perspective. An article I read by Rogaia Mustafa Abusharaf stuck with me:
“Today some girls and women in the West starve themselves obsessively. Others undergo painful and potentially dangerous medical procedures—face lifts, liposuction, breast implants and the like—to conform to cultural standards of beauty and femininity. I am not trying to equate genital cutting with eating disorders or cosmetic surgery; nevertheless, people in the industrialized world must recognize that they too are influenced, often destructively, by traditional gender roles and demands.”
The article ends with the author stating that as more women in the areas that practice this surgery are educated, the more likely they will chose not to submit their daughters to it. Women she says will make sure that FGM ends. But that is only the beginning. What will it take for women or girls to be satisfied with themselves? Is it even possible to shed the pressures of society to look or act a different way than how you were born?
In the first half of the voyage we visited countries where the people generally have darker complexions. And they go through great lengths to make their skin as pale as possible. Back in the states, people risk skin cancer to make their skin darker. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?? Not even being tan is a good thing. Tanning is your skin reacting to the sun and trying to protect itself. Now I’m not saying I’m against laying out and getting a healthy dose of Vitamin D, but some of the girls on the 7th deck on this ship are going to be pruney when we arrive back in Florida.
Hopefully, one day we will all be free.
Well those are my thoughts for now.
I think this is long enough for y’all, no?
DD
Monday, October 16, 2006
not much of an update really
i figured out a way to have free internet. which makes me wish i had a better post than this one i'm writing now.
the reason i haven't updated is that i've been sick. i'm better now, but i've lost my voice. my friends find the voice thing very amusing by the way.
India is annoying me so far. all the taxi drivers we ran into told us that spencer market was closed on sun. but apparantly that was a ploy to take us to really expensive places. and it wasnt closed. so we are going to try to get things done today.
we'll see
o and thanks all for nice comments. hil--email me with watever email address ur using these days so i can talk 2 u.
and i will update soon with u no a real update :)
dd
the reason i haven't updated is that i've been sick. i'm better now, but i've lost my voice. my friends find the voice thing very amusing by the way.
India is annoying me so far. all the taxi drivers we ran into told us that spencer market was closed on sun. but apparantly that was a ploy to take us to really expensive places. and it wasnt closed. so we are going to try to get things done today.
we'll see
o and thanks all for nice comments. hil--email me with watever email address ur using these days so i can talk 2 u.
and i will update soon with u no a real update :)
dd
Thursday, October 5, 2006
Hong Kong and Vietnam
Hong Kong
9/25/2006
I’m feeling the waves so, I’m not going to really update about Hong Kong yet, but I do want to tell you about this moment.
My last day in Hong Kong I basically ran errands. I found a grocery store and bought tide and my favorite oatmeal squares cereal and whatnot. I ran around and then went back to the ship to drop off everything and then take my laptop with me to starbucks. I have been good all week. I had one chocolate bar on my first night in China, but other than that I hadn’t had more than a bar or two since I left San Diego. And for me and my sweet tooth, that’s pretty darn good. Therefore, I was planning on buying something sweet (ie; chocolate cake) and of course a frap or something like that.
Now as a rule, I generally try to hold back from just giving people on the sidewalks money. I believe in soup kitchens and things like that. Yes, there are charities out there that don’t use your money the way you want them to, but that’s why you research them before giving them money. Case in point, when I was in New York during middle school, there was a homeless man standing on the sidewalk with a sign that said, “Please give me money for alcohol and drugs. (Hey, at least I’m not bull******* you).” Catch my drift. I’m not saying I haven’t, but you know how it is.
So, I’m on my way to Starbucks when something completely catches me by surprise. Or rather, some one caught me by surprise.
He was “standing” on the sidewalk. His left leg was only about as long as his arm. Standing for this man was on his hands and foot. His other leg—his right—was twisted or coiled around behind him so that his foot was touching or resting on his lower back.
At first, following my policy, I walked a few steps by him with most of the crowd. But then I paused and thought to myself, “what, Melody, are you made out of stone?” Since it was my last night in Hong Kong, I didn’t have much on me so I gave him a few ones and some coins, which I find very confusing by the way. And I was on my way—good deed done.
Once again my mind was back on the starbucks. “I wonder if I’ll get free internet. I hope the internet works. I hope I’ll be able to update all my windows and security networks.” And all that stuff. I walked into the starbucks and went up to the counter. I ordered, I payed. Then I sat down with my laptop.
Then I thought about the man. And I looked at my cake. “He probably doesn’t eat cake,” I thought to myself. He can’t work. It’s not that he doesn’t work. He can’t work. And I doubt he eats cake. Then I looked at my computer. No, he doesn’t have that either.
It will probably take me a while to sort out my feelings about what I see and do on this trip. I know I am going to see a lot more people like this man. And when I got out of the starbucks a few hours later, he was still there. Standing on the sidewalk with his cup. That is his job.
I didn’t take a picture of him. He is not an animal we go to the zoo to see. But I can see him clearly. And I’ve asked questions about him to myself. Was he born that way? Was he in an accident? Why didn’t they just amputate his leg? All sorts of nosey questions.
This is the beginning of a whole bunch of feelings I’ll probably have during this voyage. This is the beginning of the guilt for my privileges. The guilt I’ll have for being born where and when I was.
During Field Methods today we talked about what knock off products do to societies that we are visiting. Gucci bags are seen as the epitome of nice and beautiful and high class society. How can middle class citizens arise to that same standard that Western societies have? They buy or go to the knock off stores. To them it is not a fake bag. And in a way it helps make the real bags all the more fabulous and yet all the more unattainable for the middle class person in these countries. Even in Hong Kong, the middle class family may not be making what your average middle class family makes in America, but they have nannies and maids and that’s the standard. All of the maids were sitting out on Sunday—their day off--on broken down card board boxes and mats and things just socializing and doing each others hair and eye brows. And I mean hundreds and hundreds of Pilipino women sitting around the post office and subways just on the sides of the sidewalk doing whatever.
We also talked about globalization and the million dollar questions—will we really be improving the living conditions for people across the world or will we just be wiping out their way of life? Are we spreading knowledge or dismantling what makes each country so unique and different? We all want people to have enough to maintain a certain level of humanity, but who gets to decide what that standard is? The man with a small rice farm in Vietnam may be content with his way of life and may not want us to come in and tell him there is a “better” way to live. Who are we to decide that our way of life is better than his? What arrogance!
We also talked about ideas of beauty because a lot of people in Hong Kong and in China met people who wanted to take their pictures with them and told them they were beautiful. To me this is one of the bad side effects of globalization. If the ideal look is blonde with blue eyes and a certain shape of face with fair skin, then already A LOT of people have a “problem.” In the states young girls and women alike struggle with that “ideal” every day, but in the countries we’ve visited so far it seems to be worse. I’ve read articles about Asian women having surgery on their eyes to make their eye shape look more western. And a lot of the women wear lighter foundation than what their skin tone is to make them look paler. It just seems that this ideal look is even more impossible to obtain in the East for obvious reasons. How and when this happened I have no idea, but it needs to stop. Women are having too many corrective surgeries and are getting sick. They are going to end up like Michael Jackson—no matter how many surgeries he has, he will never be satisfied with his appearance.
I know I’m generalizing here, but this is what I’m thinking at this moment. And I don’t really feel like just telling you what I did because I already did that in my journal. I don’t want to just chase my tail with this blog.
Vietnam
10/05/2006
So I never got to updating with just that Hong Kong guy so I’m going to add my Orphanage and school visits from Vietnam with it.
I signed up for a service visit to a school for the deaf and an orphanage for kids with disabilities.
The kids at the school attend the school during the day and return home to their families at night. Some can attend regular classes at local schools and then only go to the school for exercises in listening and hearing or sign language and things like that. We were supposed to be supplied with toys to play with and to give the children. I was given a ruler, a map of Europe, and a book on elementary French words. A bit of a disappointment to be sure. But when we got there one there were plenty of crayons and markers and paper to go around. So we pulled them out and paired up with the kids. We each drew our families and showed our student named Chau (I think) was able to draw hers and write her name and she was sooo smart. I drew a very bad picture of the world and showed her where she was and where I was from. And it was great just to interact with them and “talk” to them.
Then they all dressed in these colorful costumes and did a dance for us that was so cute. The students all study art and dance. They sell crafts at the school to raise money for hearing aids and school supplies. Then the boys did a dance as well to hip hop music. They break danced and everything. It was great! None of us wanted to leave. These kids were so cute and smart. It was amazing how easy it was to communicate with them. They learn how to listen with their eyes and hands not just with the help of the hearing aids.
I wasn’t aware that the orphanage was for kids with disabilities and neither were many in our group. So we saved some of the candy and toys we had brought with us for the orphanage and then we weren’t allowed to give them any. For a good reason. This orphanage has about 400 kids and only a handful of staff. Comparable facilities in the states would have about 200 staff members. The women here can’t watch all of the kids at once so some of them had their ankles tied to the beds.
A group of children (and I wasn’t able to put them in any sort of age group) were in this one room. All of them were wearing diapers and some of them were soiled through. They don’t have the training or the means to teach all of the kids physical therapy and how to use their legs so many of them lose that ability. So there was a girl dragging herself across the floor and leaving a trail behind her. And of course we took off our shoes before entering the room so many of the SASers were barefoot. Great to think about huh?
They don’t get held very often so they really tried to jump on you which was interesting. I’m used to having kids jump on me that I know. But never random kids that I haven’t even met yet.
Hospital beds were lined up all over the place and I noticed this one boy who was half on his back and half on his side. He had completely lost the ability to use his arms, legs, feet, everything. He couldn’t sit up. I don’t think he could even move on his own. And he was trapped on a bed in the middle of the room with beds all around him. Probably because he never leaves that bed. So I climbed up on some other bed so I could say hi. And I was soo surprised when he replied with “hello, how are you.” It was slurred because he has a hard time with his speech. I told him I was good because well he speaks some English but that doesn’t mean he is fluent. There is a lot I would have liked to tell him.
A woman who said she takes care of him came over to help me understand what he was trying to say and to help translate. Now, this boy was as big as maybe a 10 year old. And he was wearing yellow bunny pajamas. So I assumed he was well little. But the woman helped me understand that his name is Bow. That is how it’s pronounced anyway. I’m not sure how to spell it. I asked him how old he is. And to my shock he replied 17. 17 frickin years old and he is stuck in that bed. They had told us that when the kids got older they went to a farm somewhere and helped pick coffee beans and tea leaves. I like to think these kids love the farm and are treated very well and not just used because they have no other place in society. It became apparent to me now that only those who are able to work at the farm go. The rest who knows. This boy was still 17. he’s not yet an adult. I didn’t ask where he would go. When we left that room to continue the tour of the facility, I had to say good bye and Bow replied with, “I’ll see you later.” I’ll never forget the smile on his face as I sat there and just held his hand. They get so little individual attention.
Then it was on to what we thought was a nursery. I went to the first crib I came to and started holding the boys hand. The man in the room told me he was three. There was another boy in the room who was crying a little bit so a woman picked him up and I asked if I could pick up this little boy. She nodded at me and I awkwardly picked him up.
I could tell immediately that he was not used to being picked up. He didn’t know what to do with his legs or body or head or any of it. But I know he liked it. He immediately started smiling and looking around. But he held his body board strait. Just as if he was still laying in that crib. The back of his head was completely flat from too much crib rest. I spun him around slowly just for fun I didn’t want to scare him and he would laugh and it was great. I danced with him for a while and took him out of the room into an open hall that showed the court yard and walked a bit. Then my arms were getting really tired and because he wasn’t really in a natural position I couldn’t maneuver him in my arms. And he couldn’t really hold his own head up either. So I tried putting him back down b/c my arms were going numb and he started crying and trying to lift himself back up. So of course I picked him back up again in different way and he started smiling again. Oh well. Let my arms go numb. I’m only here for a little while. This poor kid might as well be able to get him out of that crib for the time I’m here.
Because I couldn’t maneuver around objects very well while carrying him, I didn’t get to walk around the rest of the room. But apparently there was some other kids in that room the size of a three year old but were really 10 or 13. in cribs. The size of 3 yr olds. Their whole lives.
When it was time to go I had to put down the little boy and he started fussing again. The women came over and said she would take care of him.
So we all went and bought coffee and tea leaves and what we could to help the orphanage, but I was so sad at having to leave that little boy in that crib when all he wants to do is probably get out of it.
Most of this kids are abandoned at birth either where they are born or on the side of the road. We thought theses kids were awaiting adoption, but very few of them get adopted. They don’t have enough staff to give these kids what they need and the staff is untrained.
I’ll remember it. I wish I could do more for those kids.
So that was my first day in Nam. I did other things. Went to the Mekong Delta. Went to the Cu Chi tunnels. Got some bootleg DVDs. Oh and I shaved my head yesterday. I feel free! Hahaha!
I got all ur messages under comments section. At least i know a few people love me. The rest of u arent getting any pressies.
*rasberry*
dd
9/25/2006
I’m feeling the waves so, I’m not going to really update about Hong Kong yet, but I do want to tell you about this moment.
My last day in Hong Kong I basically ran errands. I found a grocery store and bought tide and my favorite oatmeal squares cereal and whatnot. I ran around and then went back to the ship to drop off everything and then take my laptop with me to starbucks. I have been good all week. I had one chocolate bar on my first night in China, but other than that I hadn’t had more than a bar or two since I left San Diego. And for me and my sweet tooth, that’s pretty darn good. Therefore, I was planning on buying something sweet (ie; chocolate cake) and of course a frap or something like that.
Now as a rule, I generally try to hold back from just giving people on the sidewalks money. I believe in soup kitchens and things like that. Yes, there are charities out there that don’t use your money the way you want them to, but that’s why you research them before giving them money. Case in point, when I was in New York during middle school, there was a homeless man standing on the sidewalk with a sign that said, “Please give me money for alcohol and drugs. (Hey, at least I’m not bull******* you).” Catch my drift. I’m not saying I haven’t, but you know how it is.
So, I’m on my way to Starbucks when something completely catches me by surprise. Or rather, some one caught me by surprise.
He was “standing” on the sidewalk. His left leg was only about as long as his arm. Standing for this man was on his hands and foot. His other leg—his right—was twisted or coiled around behind him so that his foot was touching or resting on his lower back.
At first, following my policy, I walked a few steps by him with most of the crowd. But then I paused and thought to myself, “what, Melody, are you made out of stone?” Since it was my last night in Hong Kong, I didn’t have much on me so I gave him a few ones and some coins, which I find very confusing by the way. And I was on my way—good deed done.
Once again my mind was back on the starbucks. “I wonder if I’ll get free internet. I hope the internet works. I hope I’ll be able to update all my windows and security networks.” And all that stuff. I walked into the starbucks and went up to the counter. I ordered, I payed. Then I sat down with my laptop.
Then I thought about the man. And I looked at my cake. “He probably doesn’t eat cake,” I thought to myself. He can’t work. It’s not that he doesn’t work. He can’t work. And I doubt he eats cake. Then I looked at my computer. No, he doesn’t have that either.
It will probably take me a while to sort out my feelings about what I see and do on this trip. I know I am going to see a lot more people like this man. And when I got out of the starbucks a few hours later, he was still there. Standing on the sidewalk with his cup. That is his job.
I didn’t take a picture of him. He is not an animal we go to the zoo to see. But I can see him clearly. And I’ve asked questions about him to myself. Was he born that way? Was he in an accident? Why didn’t they just amputate his leg? All sorts of nosey questions.
This is the beginning of a whole bunch of feelings I’ll probably have during this voyage. This is the beginning of the guilt for my privileges. The guilt I’ll have for being born where and when I was.
During Field Methods today we talked about what knock off products do to societies that we are visiting. Gucci bags are seen as the epitome of nice and beautiful and high class society. How can middle class citizens arise to that same standard that Western societies have? They buy or go to the knock off stores. To them it is not a fake bag. And in a way it helps make the real bags all the more fabulous and yet all the more unattainable for the middle class person in these countries. Even in Hong Kong, the middle class family may not be making what your average middle class family makes in America, but they have nannies and maids and that’s the standard. All of the maids were sitting out on Sunday—their day off--on broken down card board boxes and mats and things just socializing and doing each others hair and eye brows. And I mean hundreds and hundreds of Pilipino women sitting around the post office and subways just on the sides of the sidewalk doing whatever.
We also talked about globalization and the million dollar questions—will we really be improving the living conditions for people across the world or will we just be wiping out their way of life? Are we spreading knowledge or dismantling what makes each country so unique and different? We all want people to have enough to maintain a certain level of humanity, but who gets to decide what that standard is? The man with a small rice farm in Vietnam may be content with his way of life and may not want us to come in and tell him there is a “better” way to live. Who are we to decide that our way of life is better than his? What arrogance!
We also talked about ideas of beauty because a lot of people in Hong Kong and in China met people who wanted to take their pictures with them and told them they were beautiful. To me this is one of the bad side effects of globalization. If the ideal look is blonde with blue eyes and a certain shape of face with fair skin, then already A LOT of people have a “problem.” In the states young girls and women alike struggle with that “ideal” every day, but in the countries we’ve visited so far it seems to be worse. I’ve read articles about Asian women having surgery on their eyes to make their eye shape look more western. And a lot of the women wear lighter foundation than what their skin tone is to make them look paler. It just seems that this ideal look is even more impossible to obtain in the East for obvious reasons. How and when this happened I have no idea, but it needs to stop. Women are having too many corrective surgeries and are getting sick. They are going to end up like Michael Jackson—no matter how many surgeries he has, he will never be satisfied with his appearance.
I know I’m generalizing here, but this is what I’m thinking at this moment. And I don’t really feel like just telling you what I did because I already did that in my journal. I don’t want to just chase my tail with this blog.
Vietnam
10/05/2006
So I never got to updating with just that Hong Kong guy so I’m going to add my Orphanage and school visits from Vietnam with it.
I signed up for a service visit to a school for the deaf and an orphanage for kids with disabilities.
The kids at the school attend the school during the day and return home to their families at night. Some can attend regular classes at local schools and then only go to the school for exercises in listening and hearing or sign language and things like that. We were supposed to be supplied with toys to play with and to give the children. I was given a ruler, a map of Europe, and a book on elementary French words. A bit of a disappointment to be sure. But when we got there one there were plenty of crayons and markers and paper to go around. So we pulled them out and paired up with the kids. We each drew our families and showed our student named Chau (I think) was able to draw hers and write her name and she was sooo smart. I drew a very bad picture of the world and showed her where she was and where I was from. And it was great just to interact with them and “talk” to them.
Then they all dressed in these colorful costumes and did a dance for us that was so cute. The students all study art and dance. They sell crafts at the school to raise money for hearing aids and school supplies. Then the boys did a dance as well to hip hop music. They break danced and everything. It was great! None of us wanted to leave. These kids were so cute and smart. It was amazing how easy it was to communicate with them. They learn how to listen with their eyes and hands not just with the help of the hearing aids.
I wasn’t aware that the orphanage was for kids with disabilities and neither were many in our group. So we saved some of the candy and toys we had brought with us for the orphanage and then we weren’t allowed to give them any. For a good reason. This orphanage has about 400 kids and only a handful of staff. Comparable facilities in the states would have about 200 staff members. The women here can’t watch all of the kids at once so some of them had their ankles tied to the beds.
A group of children (and I wasn’t able to put them in any sort of age group) were in this one room. All of them were wearing diapers and some of them were soiled through. They don’t have the training or the means to teach all of the kids physical therapy and how to use their legs so many of them lose that ability. So there was a girl dragging herself across the floor and leaving a trail behind her. And of course we took off our shoes before entering the room so many of the SASers were barefoot. Great to think about huh?
They don’t get held very often so they really tried to jump on you which was interesting. I’m used to having kids jump on me that I know. But never random kids that I haven’t even met yet.
Hospital beds were lined up all over the place and I noticed this one boy who was half on his back and half on his side. He had completely lost the ability to use his arms, legs, feet, everything. He couldn’t sit up. I don’t think he could even move on his own. And he was trapped on a bed in the middle of the room with beds all around him. Probably because he never leaves that bed. So I climbed up on some other bed so I could say hi. And I was soo surprised when he replied with “hello, how are you.” It was slurred because he has a hard time with his speech. I told him I was good because well he speaks some English but that doesn’t mean he is fluent. There is a lot I would have liked to tell him.
A woman who said she takes care of him came over to help me understand what he was trying to say and to help translate. Now, this boy was as big as maybe a 10 year old. And he was wearing yellow bunny pajamas. So I assumed he was well little. But the woman helped me understand that his name is Bow. That is how it’s pronounced anyway. I’m not sure how to spell it. I asked him how old he is. And to my shock he replied 17. 17 frickin years old and he is stuck in that bed. They had told us that when the kids got older they went to a farm somewhere and helped pick coffee beans and tea leaves. I like to think these kids love the farm and are treated very well and not just used because they have no other place in society. It became apparent to me now that only those who are able to work at the farm go. The rest who knows. This boy was still 17. he’s not yet an adult. I didn’t ask where he would go. When we left that room to continue the tour of the facility, I had to say good bye and Bow replied with, “I’ll see you later.” I’ll never forget the smile on his face as I sat there and just held his hand. They get so little individual attention.
Then it was on to what we thought was a nursery. I went to the first crib I came to and started holding the boys hand. The man in the room told me he was three. There was another boy in the room who was crying a little bit so a woman picked him up and I asked if I could pick up this little boy. She nodded at me and I awkwardly picked him up.
I could tell immediately that he was not used to being picked up. He didn’t know what to do with his legs or body or head or any of it. But I know he liked it. He immediately started smiling and looking around. But he held his body board strait. Just as if he was still laying in that crib. The back of his head was completely flat from too much crib rest. I spun him around slowly just for fun I didn’t want to scare him and he would laugh and it was great. I danced with him for a while and took him out of the room into an open hall that showed the court yard and walked a bit. Then my arms were getting really tired and because he wasn’t really in a natural position I couldn’t maneuver him in my arms. And he couldn’t really hold his own head up either. So I tried putting him back down b/c my arms were going numb and he started crying and trying to lift himself back up. So of course I picked him back up again in different way and he started smiling again. Oh well. Let my arms go numb. I’m only here for a little while. This poor kid might as well be able to get him out of that crib for the time I’m here.
Because I couldn’t maneuver around objects very well while carrying him, I didn’t get to walk around the rest of the room. But apparently there was some other kids in that room the size of a three year old but were really 10 or 13. in cribs. The size of 3 yr olds. Their whole lives.
When it was time to go I had to put down the little boy and he started fussing again. The women came over and said she would take care of him.
So we all went and bought coffee and tea leaves and what we could to help the orphanage, but I was so sad at having to leave that little boy in that crib when all he wants to do is probably get out of it.
Most of this kids are abandoned at birth either where they are born or on the side of the road. We thought theses kids were awaiting adoption, but very few of them get adopted. They don’t have enough staff to give these kids what they need and the staff is untrained.
I’ll remember it. I wish I could do more for those kids.
So that was my first day in Nam. I did other things. Went to the Mekong Delta. Went to the Cu Chi tunnels. Got some bootleg DVDs. Oh and I shaved my head yesterday. I feel free! Hahaha!
I got all ur messages under comments section. At least i know a few people love me. The rest of u arent getting any pressies.
*rasberry*
dd
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