This found its way into my paper. Still a rough draft... but what a lovely rant.



There is a culture which belongs to the Dalits. It is made up of drumming for funerals, being discriminated against, wondering why the religion you are upholding is the one holding you down. I have been told that the people living in the worst of conditions are happy with their lot in life because they must have done something to deserve it in a previous life. There is a woman whose job it is to pick up human excrement all day from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m. She has been doing this job for 25 years and is working to pay off a debt she owes to a family for her child’s wedding. Her husband is dead and he drank too much anyway. She is old and her back hurts and all day she runs after little kids going to the bathroom in the street. (film Shit…) I do not believe that this woman is content with her life or that she thinks it is owed to her. For 3,000 years the upper caste has been using a religious sanction to justify the caste system. Everyone under this method of living suffers differently except for the Brahmins who do not suffer at all. It is now illegal in India to single out someone because of their caste and treat them unfairly. Lower caste people are expected to be able to come forward to the police, but are too afraid, too poor to go through trial, and worried that he or she will be ostracized from the group and no one will support them. Dr. ___’s explanation of the problem reminded me of what happened constantly in the United States before the Domestic Violence Act was instated. Women would go to the police to lodge a complaint against their abusive husband and would not be given protection. More times than not the woman would be sent home to an angrier husband. If the trial made it to court she was forced to testify in front of him, experienced prejudice from the judge, and even if a restraining order was given, it would not be upheld. Similarly, men and women from lower castes are scared to break their silence. They are dependent on their jobs and cannot leave them for a trial because they have to support their family.
My reasoning is that if this is the culture of the Dalits; what is their cultural mindset? I have been told they are okay with it, but I am encouraged when I read about Ambekdar and other Dalits who have fought the system. Telling ourselves that the Dalits are passive, abuse accepting people is another lie to make the rest of the world feel better. I refuse to believe that lie. Who are the people saying this and what is their cultural mindset? How have they transformed themselves so they can live peaceably in India and not look hard at themselves? No one is content when they are starving, put down, and made to feel ashamed of themselves for something they could not help; their birth. “Dalits must enter into the modern exploited economic system so they can exploit it.” (Bhota Document) but will they ever be given the chance? The people belonging to the lower castes make up the majority of India’s population, yet are treated as the minority.

portrait of a procrastinator

Hi my name is Kate Brown and I play volleyball with a skirt on and I take dives. I drink Old Monk whiskey and make a face when I do. I belt out old songs and dance barefoot on pavement that has felt the heels of my lover before me.
I play Telephone at dinner and give myself split ends.

an exercise in metaphorical writing

I have this fire inside of me. It's not destructive, out of control, or the reason behind all of my actions. Instead, this fire is warm and inviting - something to sit close to when I am cold and all I can see in front of me is the lonely form my breath takes when I exhale. I can make my bed next to these flames without fear of it dying out or hindering my movements. I take it with me wherever I go - I am always warm - always fed by this fire's vitality - inspired by the intensity of the vivid orange and gold of its flames.



-The last four sessions have been on Bhuddism. I have taken a shine to it.-

Gender representation. What am I most comfortable with? What would I look like if part of me wasn't concerned with other peoples' opinions of me? If I wouldn't have to explain to everyone that I'm still me no matter what I look like?
What holds me back from chopping off my hair? Which clothing choices of mine are really masculine anyway? How do I get around using that word (masculine) or its opposite? CAn you get away from gender? Hiow long before a dress is just a dress and not women's clothing? If dresses were considered gender neutral, would I like wearing them more? Even in my attempt to escape gender labeles, here I am wishing I had a pair of "long boy shorts". I am unhappy with my gender representation - in saying that I have to define what I am trying to represent. Myself. the person I feel like, but cannot portray. And I'm confused because one day I'll be so frustrated, sad, angry, defiant ... and the other I feel okay in my body. And I guess .. what I am asking for is the flexibility to be okay in my body one day .. and look however the hell I want to look that other day.
I want more flexibility and at the same time I have to recognize my wish for my partner to have as much flexibility as I have. And of course ... a man's gender representation goes far beyond what he is wearing just as a woman's does.. but Why did men get left behind when women started wearing pants? Because dresses/skirts/high heels/ were and are seen and symbols of restriction - of an era when women were the "weaker sex". Pants are supposed to allow freedom. Women can wear them and prove they're :just as good: ::as tough as:: a man. But women were tough before...
A man donning a dress doesn't make him any less of a person. I don't say "man" because "man" is a social construct.
AH! There it is... Deconstruct those social constructs and start from scratch.
These are the notes of someone starting from scratch.

Mmm volleyball played with kids from the village, light provided by the generator, some beer in my belly, and I was the captain of the second team. It was so good to move and shout and hit things hard and I hope I get bruises. My legs are bumpy from bites and an hour ago I just washed the grit and grime from my hair… scraped the bottom of my feet with my fingernails and watched the white of my skin show through the red of caked dirt.

I went to the library this morning and walked slowly around the room, running the tips of my fingers against the shelves and stopping here and there. Something so peaceful about a room full of books at 8 o’clock in the morning. I ended up with three books that hopefully will help me with my paper and one book for pleasure… a mammoth biography of Lenin.

We might go into Bangalore today since we’re stuck here tomorrow writing a paper. I have to say … I might go just to get some long shorts or an extra t-shirt. Wearing skirts every day is not fun… who would’ve guessed I’d feel that way?

We go for walks now, after classes, before dinner. We go up into hills, down into villages, and off the roads all together to look at shrines nestled into the sides of banyon trees. Tomorrow there is a chance we'll have tea.
My mind keeps wandering during class. I write letters, draw my name in block and bubble style, take notes I can't read later on, and raise my hand when I have a question - I doubt anyone notices.
The days either seem exciting or like something to just get through. I can at least say the latter for some of the classes and this paper which is due next week.
I'm not getting enough hugs here. Talk about "wanting" and "alone".... It's physically painful. No head hugs from Nora, no reach across car hugs from Rachel, no monumentous/body lifting hugs from D. nuttin'. Although Taylor says I'm the perfect height for hugging so I might capitalize on that.
I might be getting my nose pierced next week. Because .. why not? I've stopped caring or .. maybe the better word is Worrying about things like that. I know part of me wants to, so I will and the good thing is it will heal in a minute if I take it out.

I haven't sang for over a week now. Perhaps that is the trouble. Or part of it.

Being hungover is not the same when you have to deal with professors sitting next to you at breakfast and spicy food... no grease.
Oamjie's back. Ruma's leaving. She wrote to Ellen Ross today to see if we could work out a three credit independent study. Which would make me just two extra classes away from graduation.

We're going into Bangalore tonight. I'm very excited. I love it here. Last night we danced to some reggae, to some hip hop, to a classical randition of some Pocahontas song, and I had a good conversation about gender with Ruma. Of course. I also told Fidel I want to have a talk with him about Islam and women and have it be an open one. I have been dancing more than ever since I came here. Bo said that South Asian women aren't supposed to get drunk and I told her white women, in theory, really shouldn't be dancing, but I do it anyway.

When I go home I want to ride my bike, have people wrap their arms around me, go for runs, visit friends who will be leaving, read, clean out my room completely, make some money (?), do some small time travelling.. see Demetrius and I can't even begin to imagine the beauty of that moment or the happiness that will be swelling up inside of me. And the relief... of being able to kiss him.

This is a horrible way of keeping track of time/restless moods/slow days/fleeting weeks.

How I Utilized Some Class Time::

Accepting you're where you are
Questioning why you came anyway
Scraping together for phone cards and postage
Waking up early/staying up late
...to hear a phone ring
...to laugh at a story
...to close your eyes and pretend he's sitting with you
And that warm breeze is his breath on your cheek
Because he is that close
You are that near


..
parasite update: taylor thinks she has one

Watched the Corporation today. It, as well as these past two weeks, further convinced me that I don't need as much as I think I need. I shouldn't want half the things I want.

Everyone was restless today. I almost started crying just because I was cranky and then got over myself. A handy practice I've been doing lately... half of the people went into Bangalore at 5 a.m. b/c jim had to get his plane at 7 a.m. and that was the only way they could go to the bike race. Turns out that there was no open forum for the bike race anyway so I didn't miss anything. I hate being trapped here. We tried getting the directions to take the bus, but no one would tell us and maybe for the first time it's best that we get shown. As long as that actually happens. I'm making a stink if it doesn't by the week after next. No one will want to do anything next week anyway since we'll be working on our paper.

Ruma Sen is here for a couple of days. She's one of my favorite professors at Ramapo. I'm just happy to have a woman like her here. I wish she could have stayed longer.

All of the food here gives me pains now and then, but what's the point since it is all going through me anyway. I give up. I'm not letting it stop me from eating and I'm rationing out precious Clif Bars.


i'm convinced i'll be leaving this country with something living inside me. parasite .. ameoba ... something.

Expansions on notebook scribbling

On the first day women put flowers in my hair, bangles on my wrist, and a bindi between my eyebrows. The people of the village showed us the land that they own now and how they’ve been working so hard on leveling the ground by putting huge boulders on certain points of land and waiting for nature to do its work. They’ve been doing this manually for the past ten years. Women and men work side by side and earn the same wage.
The landscape is very dry for the most part. Big boulders covered mountains like lumpy blankets. The people grow peanuts and are moving towards tree crops because they take much less care… which is important because of the young people going to Bangalore, there will be less villagers to work the land. 93% of the Coolies’ children are in school and the people were very proud of the fact that they’ve been able to send their kids to Bangalore for jobs.
There was a cluster meeting and we (John, Lauren, Jim, Malika, and I….that was our group for the time at ADATS) sat down to talk with them with our translator Nazir. They were very open about all the questions. You have to remember that their peace came at a price. Coolies and Ryots fought with each other and some Coolies died so that they could have their freedom from the Ryots and form the Sanghas.
We were given coconuts with holes at the top and the jelly too. And roasted peanuts.
At the village school later on that day, a 12 yrs old girl looked me in the eye and talked to me in Kannada. Her teacher translated. “Miss, she says she wants you to stay”. I had just told the children at the village school that I am studying “women’s studies or how to give women rights.” At night the village had a black out so the van pulled up to the big clearing we were all standing in and turned its lights on. A big circle formed and a tribal dance started. Lauren, Malika, Siani, Jim, and myself all danced. The stars were beautiful that night.

On the second day the members of the Coolie Sangha sat down with us. Men in the front, women in the back; no talking from the latter. At night we went to the youth training center. Malika and I talked to a group of boys who were trying to teach us Kannada. I was grateful they didn’t ask to learn any English. I am tired of talking about America or quenching thirsts of people who think my country is better than theirs. We all played a village game called Kho Kho. I lost right away, but I am making myself try new things constantly and finding out I like them. Oh and a monkey stole my custard apple out of the car…Katy got it on video. Smart little devils.

For the last day the whole group sat down with representatives from different Coolie Sanghas and talked about education. Or, we did for a bit… They started asking us about the U.S. They asked why their country isn’t as developed as ours is. And I wanted to tell them that they shouldn’t buy into that… that just because we build up on every available piece of land, spend all of our time in front of TVs and computer screens, and our way of living is so wasteful… doesn’t make us more developed. It makes us over developed … not developed enough. It makes their Coolie Sangha look like a God-send for all the poor fucks in America who can’t get their personal shit out of the way when it comes to making a difference and working towards communal living. These men and women started with less than nothing… not even their lives and back breaking work belonged to them. It was bought and paid for with ownership and shit pay. Who’s more developed? Who gets to say?
Jim basically talked the whole time. That’s all he does and now while he does it he’ll be back in Jersey because he’s leaving tomorrow morning. Good riddance.
He proposed that we go to a temple Merk Mala which was erected around the graves of a Sufi saint and his wife. It’s believed that if you are crazy…or, as the people here believe, are possessed by a demon, you go to this place and stay there for eight days. During the hour of 7-8pm you walk around this tiny tiny altar and go into a trance. It’s a mainstream way of dealing with mental illness. I wanted to go and I guess I still would have went if I had known what it would be like.
The group was Taylor, Lauren, Katy, Fidel, Jim, Nazir, another translator, and Bridgette – an ADATS volunteer from New Zealand. Hoards of children surrounded us the moment we got there. I don’t think many tourists go there; and we wouldn’t have been able to if it wasn’t for Nazir. A woman asked Bridgette to take her baby back to America with her. The children flipped out whenever someone took pictures with a digital camera. The man with his foot chained to a wall tried to get our attention, but a little girl named Amina caught mine.
She is beautiful and wearing a dark orange shirt with matching skirt and a red head scarf made out of thick material. Just a triangular piece of fabric with two strings at the end. Her eyes take up her face and I can’t stop looking into them, frantically trying to find her if I lose sight of her for just a moment. She keeps laughing and smiling at me; always making sure to be less than five feet away from me at all times. I take some pictures of her and don’t like the feeling it gives me, but I’m beyond caring right now what I look like. Stupid American tourist. Weird or out of place. I have to capture her face… Amina’s face…somehow because I don’t trust my memory. I reject my instant impulsive thought “I want to take her back with me” Why? So I can dress her up and freak her out with a whole new world? So I can impose ideologies on her which should never enter her mind? Because I think that for some reason There is better than Here? Having condescending and superior thoughts like “I wish I could take her home” are pointless and disdainful. Thinking instead, “If my main goal is to empower her, how do I do so…or help to do so HERE?”
At seven we made our way inside the temple. I can’t describe…nor will I ever be able to… the sights I saw that night. Women convulsing on the ground, men raising their hands to the women if they wanted to come out of the circular area of entrancement. One girl was walking around crying “where is my sister?” and every time she tried to go to her mother and brother, the brother would raise a large stick at her and slap her on the back and shove her back in. She bit her brother once. The mother was wearing all black and I’m guessing that this girl’s sister just died and she was mourning, but thought to be crazy instead. Another woman had her hands tied behind her back and was being escorted by her father and mother. She is striking and so beautiful that I can’t help looking at her even though Jim keeps telling us to not make eye contact. She looked at me and smiled, saluted me with her chin and looked away. Das (the other translator) said that when she looked at us (she kept looking at this big group of foreigners) she doesn’t see us… because she’s crazy. He’s right, I’m sure, but eye contact is personal …
These parents… these people coming to this place… this is how they treat mental problems here…or any problem. It is normal to them… and not much different than pentacostal or charismatic practices, except here it’s mainstream whereas in the U.S. therapy and anti-depressants are the norm.
And I was fine with consoling myself with this until we were leaving. I looked for Amina and found her with her mother … having some oil or something put on her throat. And I let it hit me … Yes, this method of curing problems might work for them and it might be their norm and I’m okay with that, but raising a large stick to a grieving woman, slapping someone hard on the back as a sign of intimidation is not normal. Is never normal.
Amina followed me out to the bus and I waved to her the whole time. I didn’t get to hug her or hold her little hand or tell her that she can be anything she wants to be and to never let anyone take advantage of her or make her do something she doesn’t want to do.
On the bus ride home we were all quiet. Lauren said she cried a little, I curled up in a ball in my seat and did the same.
We arrived back to ADATS around 10 pm. We were all shaken up still and stood around the table listening to John, Ram (founder of ADATS), and Jim talk. Jim said something about Americans not being aware of the Class System and I made a face of disagreement because I’ve been very aware my whole life. Then he said “Oh but of course all Ramapo students know” and then I nodded. He had noticed my first face of disapproval and called me out on it.
“Do you have something to say?”
I was too tired to explain and I just told him that I disagreed with his first statement until he said Ramapo Students… I know it was an easy way out but I was so tired and numb… and not numb at all and on the verge of tears. Jim said “You’re always contradicting me. You’ve done it three hundred times already so I am just asking you if you have something to say!” And then.. there I went.
“Jim, I think you’re being belligerent and you’re always looking for an argument. I’m NOT disagreeing with you. I have nothing to say”
I had three cigarettes that night and I don’t feel sorry at all. I haven’t had one since and I don’t plan on it.
Ram brought out some home made wine and the whole group had some, got drunk, got into good conversations, and competitive games of Uno and Phase Ten.

-----

The Woes of the Sexual Woman in a Sexless Environment

I am a warm, vibrant, vital, passionate person, but not here.
My breasts are stripped of their sensuality and are reduced to mere pounds of flesh weighing me down. They do not make my back arch while my lover is kissing and cupping them in his soft hands, but make me curse shirts with indecipherable sizes.
My cunt only lets out and takes nothing into its warmth and wet.
My curves are question marks waiting for a defined period of exclamation points.

for some reason pounding laundry on big flat stones and scrubbing stains out with a coars hand brush has made the biggest impression on me so far. Or maybe that's because with each new day I am most impressed by a new thing. I know there is a larger, complex, and striking India out there, but it comes through in little incidents or conversations here. Not full force. I'm looking for it, though.
I don't know how I'm going to leave here. I'm hesitant to go to ADATS because part of me might get caught up. I want to get caught up here.
As much as I think about home, it must be understood I only think about a person my home can't contain. It's where your heart is, right? Well there you have it.

It makes my stomach tense to look around this room and see four of us at any given time on computers, on the phone, or waiting for either. How vital communication has become, how completely essential. It is as if we check and call to make sure New Jersey is still there or maybe to remind us that we are really here. The emails, the voices on the other end provide such a warm blanket. Malika is on the phone right now and even though she and her husband are fighting, it's obvious that talking to him is all that matters right now.
It makes my stomach knot because I see how intense our needs are. I've never really thought about it before. Every time anyone talks about someone from back home.. a best friend, partner, or parent, I think it's with a new found appreciation.

After dinner Oamji met us in front of the meeting hall. We sat on the ledge and he asked us if we knew any songs. He pointed at me first and all I could think of was I Wanna Hold Your Hand by the Beatles because Sara and I had talked before about how that’s all she would be able to think of. He sang after me and …it was powerful. His voice has silences you at first and then beckons you to join in. I could hear tradition and ancient peoples in his voice. There is a lot I can learn from Oamji, a lot to enjoy about this wise, gentle, smiling man.
Oamji asked us to sing more songs and it turns out we had a lot in common. Trent said that we definitely knew more than the last two years’ groups. In a miniscule way, this was a good thing for us to hear. Of course we have been hearing so much about last year’s group and the year before that and now this is something that will be said about us: that we knew a lot of songs. For me, at least, it’s been hard and comforting to walk where others I hold close have walked and to hear my new friends talk about my older ones.
I was had on my contra dancing skirt, bare feet, a smile on my face, and my whole body felt afire with the beating of the drums, the reverberating voices, and intensity of good things to come.
Mostly all of us danced. I did the whole time and forgot my back ache and fatigue and let the energy of the rhythm pulse through me. Oamji and I found ourselves sitting next to each other and he said to me.
“Demetrius always sang and danced with me. He would dance like this.” And he did some movements with his arms and I smiled. I told Oamji that sometimes Demetrius and I dance and that he and I are always laughing when we’re together and how happy he makes me.
Oamji replied, “I am happy to have a continuation of Demetrius, and such an active lady!”
I think I feel that way about him as well…

Towards the very end.. after an hour of dancing and singing mostly everyone was sitting down, but Bo, Malika, Suddha, myself, and Oamji were still going strong. Oamji held out his hands and pulled me and twirled me and then did the same to Sara who was sitting on the ledge. It was just the five of us going in a circle .. left, then right, then in, then out.

I stayed up late afterwards. The four of us in the room couldn’t stop laughing and finally I think that’s what exhausted us.

On 1/9/06, Katie Brown wrote:

Dear Mia,
I gave Deepa a hug for you. she's as lovely as everyone said she is.
I'll be honest, I'm having a very hard time being here. And I know
where that's coming from... I'm not at home, I'm not with Demetrius,
I'm not doing things that allow me control. And now here I am away from
everything and I feel like things are out of my control. This has been
such a problem for me my whole life; to just accept what comes and what
is. It's fear of lack of control, fear of abandonment, fear that he
won't be there. <-- All of those not stemming from my relationship with
him, but my whole life .. certain instances that have caused this
reaction many times before. It makes me sad because I fear I won't be
able to enjoy this place. i talked to him on the phone last night and
it made things worse. I'm worse now, it seems. Why did you come to
India? I don't know why I came, but that doesn't matter so much because
this is the end result of a manifestation of many little things.

Everyone here is sad to be away from home, but I am the only one given
to cry at random moments..

love,
kate


Quoting Mia Cinque :

If Demetrius is the one, then you really better go through what you are
starting to go through- before you spend your life with him (if you spend
your life with him). Do you agree? If you don't face some of your issues
now, it will become difficult to know what things you are feeling are
because of demetrius and what things you are feeling are coming from a place
within which is still not understood by you.
I know it's tough, but I promise you it will get easier. It seems you will
have to face your hurts right in the face, and it won't be easy, but it is
not more than you can bear- I promise you..I PROMISE you. Ultimately it is
priceless and very worth it.
The very biginning is the scariest because you're like ' so this it what
it's gonne be like for four months?', 'so, this is what it'd gonne be
like'.....No, the first couple of weeks is not a good indication of what the
entire trip will be like. The beggining is definately tough. The fact that
you're having some difficulties is a good sign that you will benefit most
from this experience.
-Also..in my time at Fireflies none of the other students were as expressive
as I tend to be about my inner struggles. I'd say generally people keep
their inner battles unverbalized or even concealed. For example I didn't
find out how miserable Merideth was in India until way after we had come
back to the U.S. I am sure the other students are going a little crazy
too. How could you not? -Remember..? The way I described the beginning of
the trip was that we all had mental break downs, and then over the next few
months we rebuilt our psyches.
It is your desyiny to be where you are at this very moment. In life we have
about as much control as a person movinaing about in a train or an aircraft,
we can go anywhere in the train we want, but we have no control over where
the train is taking us. To think otherwise is to desive ourselves. The
most liberating act in the world is the act of submitting oneself to what is
outside of our control. It is something one can learn how to do. Oh how
much peace it brings when one can submit.
I am sending you my love.
mia


Dear Dear Mia,

I am so blessed to have you in my life. Thank you for your words. I talked with Trent today and he said basically the same thing. It helped. The fear of the unknown (not knowing when i'll see him next) was/is paralyzing me. I say "is" because I am not foolish enough to think that just because two people said some wise and right things that I am all better.
You're right .. I was scared that this is how i'm going to be the whole time.
I am the only one openly crying and being ridiculous right now, but I know others are having a hard time. I am just the only one being so open with it. I lost the ability to fake a peaceful look or hold back tears a long time ago.
I have been finding peace in yoga and long talks with my new friend Katy. she laughs at my jokes. thank goodness.

peace,
kate




===== well that's in chronological order. Granted, I was a little emotional while writing and there's so much going through my head about everything and anything .. and no matter what, the message of Mia's email is the point. I think today was a productive day. I let a lot out and maybe I took one small step closer to myself.

this captures how I was feeling .. and her response is exactly what needs to happen. I had been feeling so panicked these past days ... Away from the familiar..
eh, i wish i could just talk to you. if you think i'm bad and roundabout at explaining myself in person... this method leaves a little to be desired. either way, i know you understand where i'm coming from.. having come from the same place yourself.

In other news Spicket is back... i'm surprised my lips even exist anymore.. i've been picking at them religiously. Letschert left finally. Siddhartha ended the session an hour early because we were all falling asleep or journalling. Tomorrow is a guy from Ireland. hurrah.
We watched FIRE tonight and I'm still kicking around ideas for my paper... Maybe how male socialization in India negatively effects men, thus effecting women since it is now a patriarchal society? my mind is still trying to wrap itself around itself... hm

My day of water fasting went very well. Gopi told Katy and I that we picked the wrong today. .. it's usually Monday or Thursdays or Fridays. I feel a little calmer .. I'm breathing easier too. although i think that has something to do with the yoga. it's become quite an outlet. Focusing on my breathing, something so fundamentally connected to my life and vitality.

Nine thirty... time for bed. And I'll probably be up by five a.m. again.

open and honest --
Kate

Ok so imagine we are in a coffee shop and I am talking very excitedly and I have a big smile on my face ....
Go!

Last night was the party for Katy. I think it was what everyone needed. We danced, Malika and Siani taught us how to do some moves and we all embarassed ourselves. There was reggae and Indian music and bad bad bad wine, but it did the trick so no one cared. We started up on the tower of our building and John (he lives here and is engaged to Siddhartha's daughter deepa, and Siddhartha is the founder of Fireflies and John kind of takes care of us) came up with a boom box and just watched us for awhile and laughed. He must really get a kick out of us. Then we moved into the meeting room on the third floor and the room was lit up blue from someone's flashlight or .. blue light machine, I don't know. It made huge shadows on the walls and no matter how horribly you danced, at least the walls looked cool.
Taylor ordained me a faerie and took a picture of me curled up in a ball with an empty glass that should have had wine in it. Ha!
I am more amazed each day at the rate of growth of inside jokes we all have now and the funny things that happen.We're still all calling Fidel "A Man" whenever he volunteers to do anything because in Frankfurt Fidel offered to watch our bags for us and Jim Morley (one of the professors) said "Fidel, you are a man!" And I said to whoever was next to me (but more to demetrius b/c he would have thought it was ridiculous) "Oh gee, Jim, thanks for making me feel secure within my gender role just because I offered to do something responsible.. I know will never doubt my masculinity because, you, most masculine of all, has just given me approval" So last night when Katy's cakes had come out after dinner and we were all standing around her someone noticed there wasn't a camera so Fidel offered to do it and all of us said "Fidel!! You are a man!" Well, it might not be funny to anyone else because they weren't there, but I'm kind of glad to have a "i guess you had to be there" thing going on here. It helps.

Talk about helping .... The night before last I had a dream that I was on my way up my street in Haledon and was thinking "Oh, I'll call Demetrius and we'll hang out." So my dream ended just as I was picking up the phone. I woke up, opened my eyes, and forgot where I was for a moment... wishing to be back home. And shit, I really wasn't. not at all. So that ruined my whole day mostly. I cried a bit, sulked a bit, and felt quite malaise-y. The party helped a lot though. I woke up this morning and I must have had a dream again because I was very sad. And then I thought "patience". I will see him. Time will pass and I will see him. It's like I told him before... now that I'm here .. instead of a countdown of when I am leaving him, it's watching the passage of time to when we are together again. I closed my eyes and was with him all of a sudden. It is very convenient that I have eyes to close and a Demetrius to see when I do so. I loves him and might have to do a lot more thinking about him now that Spicket is not working!!! not even a drizzle of water. the worst.

Yesterday was also the first day of class. Letschert had a lot of interesting things to say. Too bad we didn't understand them. But what a good thing that Trent did! During the second session Trent would fall asleep, ask an intelligable question, and fall asleep again. Quite a talent. I wrote a letter, Taylor was pissed, Malika and Bo doodled. And honestly... we tried. It was 3 hours of Letschert (who I could not understand very well) talking about subjects we had no background on. The man is a surrealist painter.. a surrealist all together. Hopefully today will be better. None of us are completely sleep adjusted I think or adjusted to being here and the mind wanders...

We have meditation and yoga today. Ardvin is our yoga instructor and he wants to us to kneel on a chair, put our hands on the ground and close our eyes while we put our heads up and down. ten times. then raise yourself up.. relax.. and go down again but circle your head to the right .. repeat the relaxing part and then do it again but to the left. He said it keeps you feeling nice all day. So I'll try it.

Hmm, seems I've lost my appetite. Where'd it go? Every time I burp I taste mint or spice. Or rice? That might be it.
Today is the first day of sessions. Jean Letschert (I think that's the right last name spelling) is our speaker. He has been talking to us about Hinduism, the soul, and reincarnation.
We are going to keep being reincarnated until our soul is fulfilled. But what can make my soul fulfilled? Is it something very clear? Something that I have always been looking for? What have I always been looking for anyhow? Some things pop into mind, but I highly doubt they are worthy of fulfilling a soul.
After tea he, Katy, and I were standing on the veranda of our building and I let out a big sigh, the way I often do, and he asked me why. I am still struggling with why I am here.. if I should be here.. so on and so forth. Katy said that it's comforting to be in such turmoil because doesn't that mean that change and challenge are taking place?
But what will change? Jean said to not look for specific change, but to be alert to a difference in attitude.
I know I have to let go of control.. I am so removed from home right now that I feel as if I can't manage anything over there. The truth is, one that I am aware of, is that I never had any control to begin with. It is not in my power whether or not my mother is happy... whether things will be okay. Not at all. All I can do is act from my heart and be honest in my actions ... let them portray no falsehoods.
So, that's what I am doing. I pour my heart into every email, I listen to everyone here, I try to breathe in and out steadily.

Speaking of which.. we had yoga breathing instructions this morning. The four of us in the room woke up exactly at seven thirty a.m. and rushed down... I think yoga will help me. It was relaxing to settle into my body; to feel my rib cage move in and out, my shoulder blades coming in and out, and my lungs filling up with breath.

Today is such a beautiful day. I know I have made a beautiful choice.

time for lunch which might = clif. good ol' clif

so big!

Yesterday we moved into our new building. It has three floors and a tower at the top. There are four girls in my room including me because maybe Katy felt more comfortable with us than with Cianni and Infinite. I don't mind so many people, but the people at the ashram would like us to have at the most three people to a room.
Everyone went to the tower to see the view and Cianni asked us what it made us think. Malika said "It makes you not doubt coming here; makes you glad that you came." When it came to me, I had to echo her.
Because, what am I sad about? Missing Demetrius, of course, but what do I have to be happy about?? Seeing and experiencing this country, seeing him again, and there is not a lot to be sad about because I know he loves me and I know I feel the same. And we are strong and so is what we have. But, I'll be honest, yesterday I couldn't take a nap because hugging the pillow was a pitiful substitute for hugging him. So, I gave up, cried a little, and luckily we moved into the new building five minutes after.

Siddhartha asked us that afternoon if we wanted to go to an Indian wedding reception around seven. Everyone was very enthusiastic about it and as soon as we got settled in, Taylor took bathed and I did so after her. We had to be ready by four thirty to go to a tree rememberance ceremony and then go to the reception.
The lovely four chicas in my room were ready first and John drove us to the field where the ceremony would be taking place. He said we could stand in the shade of a bale of hay while we waited. We made our way over there and he talked to us for a little while. He asked me about Emily, Yumiko, Demetrius. I said that I knew Yumiko was on the Southwest trip and I said Demetrius is the one who got me all wonderfully packed even though, since he's the one who packed the bag, I'm still figuring out where everything is. He said "Yumiko is an adventurous girl" and "Demetrius is a good packer" I don't know what the latter means.. Maybe he knows D's awesome packing skills by first hand or was being nice.
John walked over to where the ceremony was being readied by Indian men and women. The four of us felt ridiculous standing in the shade as if we were delicate/superior beings and we agreed to walk over.
Now, a Tree Rememberance ceremony is when a tree is planted at the grave of someone so as to complete the cycle of life, and remember them. John told us Siddhartha has encouraged this idea here so as to melt cultural tradition and a good environmental thing. So now people are planting more trees.
The rest of the group arrived shortly after and the ceremony was very nice and touching. I was a little uncomfortable because I wonder if the relatives and friends of this woman mind that we were standing there, taking part by throwing the dirt in the hole for the tree (under Siddhartha's urging), and not understanding what was going on. We all received tikkas (i think that's what the red dot is called) and were given a milk treat and a cracker. I couldn't finish the treat because I think it was the sweetest thing that has ever ever ever entered my mouth and i felt nauseous.
Malika and I walked back to the ashram together, very behind Hiro, Cindy, and some others. We had to walk through the village and since Malika was more dressed for a reception in a fitted short sleeved shirt and a knee length skirt, we got a lot of looks from men. I joked with her about it and she said "Honey, you're the white one, I just look like an outcast" She was born in South America and is part West Indian and everyone thinks she is a native. So, hey, maybe she was right.
We passed a little girl in a pretty red skirt and she said hi to us. We walked on further, turned around, and she was still there. So I made some funny "good bye" hand motions and she did the same. Hah, I think after awhile she was just making fun of us. Malika waved hello to a group of women and they were definitely laughing at her.
Gopi met us at the ashram and told us a route to walk in the mornings. He also taught us some Kannada!! I can only spell it as it sounds to me. Nay mah yesseray yay new. It means "What is your name?" And Na Na hesseray" means My name is.. I sang it to myself a little bit and I'm also tryhing to remember Nomascar.. which means Hello, Welcome. I am remembering it by saying No Mascara really fast. Does the trick. And I've created a way to remember the What is your name .. but it's too long winded to explain, but it works.. this is how i got to college. hehe.

Back at the ashram John broke the news that there was a strike by the Goods Providers and the roads were blocked to the reception. An hour later he said it was alright to go, so we headed out. I don't know why I wasn't wearing my seat belt, I should've died ten times last night, but they know what they're doing here. A couple of times we came an inch close to another car, person, animal.
That Lumps and Humps song by the Black Eyed Peas came on the radio and I had to laugh that of all songs... that song makes me miss Demetrius and be very sad. But I smiled, knowing he'd get a kick out of it too. I swear, I talk to him a lot in my head. Fuck, and here I am tearing up in the computer room. Room of Tears I called it to Bo and Malika this morning. They laughed. You have to.
So so so. ... i fell asleep in the car and when I woke up, we were back on our way to the ashram. The roads, it turns out, were still blocked. I went to bed without eating dinner...

And woke up this morning around seven to find Katy up too. So we went for a walk.. went the wrong way and ended up in a field and turned around. We passed a woman on the way back and I sad Nomascar and she smiled. I'm trying to get over feeling like a dumb tourist. John told us last night that they would not make fun of us for making an effort.
Katy and I went to check our emails when we got back and as I was walking up the stairs to the computer room a woman who works in the kitchen was walking into the entrance. I stopped on the tenth step up and stopped her and asked her her name. She smiled and said Jama. and said to me Nanu? I told her Kate. She said Thank you!! and shook my hand. That made me happiest of all today.

We are all growing very close here already. We have to. Yesterday at the tower someone made a comment on how we are all best friends now, family.. and how we have to be. I think everyone likes eachother. Some people think Katy hasn't warmed up to being here yet, but I know she just misses her home and her boyfriend. For her, a way of conveying that is being a little aloof at times or high strung... i actually can't explain it, but for me ... there's no mystery about it .. I get downright depressed sometimes and don't mind letting anyone know it. I figure they're all going through the same thing and if some of us are honest about it, maybe others will be too. I'm trying to keep an eye on Katy and make her happy here. If I can focus my attention on someone else ... I will have to pay less to myself. Although, I'm beginning to be confused about the purpose .. my purpose of being here... is it to become less self centered and focus on others more? To focus on myself and work through problems ... to... to what?!
But I love this group, though. I do. And I'm going to do what I can to make it a good group... to be a good presence here.


I have the digital part of my watch set to Jersey time. It's necessary and I look at it a lot. right now it's 11 pm over there .. and Demetrius is at work. My mom is watching the news. Nora might be out with Joe .. Rachel.. maybe sleeping soon.

Time .. time has been moving slowly. As if it's stopped. Yesterday felt like five. But we are not in a routine yet and tonight is our first lecture. Class helps pass time. Deadlines and homework give time structure and a finite end. On the plane ride I wondered if I had really understood the severity of four months away from home. Well, of course I did, I was crying about it constantly .... but now that I'm living it ..
Well, Katy and I both agreed we are anxiously looking forward to a point in this trip where we don't want to go home. I can say that a part of me doesn't want to already. Because I don't miss my home ... i miss the people. I miss my love.

I suppose I do have a way of looking past the situation to the actual point of the situation. Like, the situation here is that I am far away from D now (that's the part of the situation affecting me most, you see), but the point of this or maybe something that can be gotten out of it .. is a deeper understanding of myself, and for the two of us .. an understanding of eachother/what we have. And those last two things are .. awesome. i do understand that.

I know it's repetitive the way I keep talking about the point of things, what's actually good about being here, the good that can come out of it all, but it's necessary for girls like me who have been worrying about the sky falling or gramparents dying before she even made it to kindergarten. Throughout it all though, I know for certain that I have a good head on my shoulders and that at the end of the day ... it is good that I am here. and it is also not the end of it. Maybe the beginning.

And it's funny how just writing back to a blog comment I made makes me tear up and smile widely because it is communication with you. Direct communication. You responding to something I said. I might fudge my pants when an email comes along.

speaking of poo.... they have a great way of not using toilet paper here. This hose like thing ... I told Katy that she can keep the vibrator her boyfriend gave her, I've got my hose. Four months with Spicket.

Exerpt Written via flight to Frankfurt. God only knows what date or time it was. I lost track.

On a plane ride you can let tears fall down your face and not get a second glance or a “anything wrong?” from a flight attendant or the people across the aisle or next to you. Both are going to India. 3 of the same behind you.
So I talked to the person on my right. My eyes are watery but my face is not red and streaked because I’m not comfortable here. She says – You have allergies?
I tell her Yes, and a boyfriend in New Jersey.

Ok, so I’ll settle for small talk. Talk about tofu. Veganism. My lack of veganism. Anything to get my mind off the distance this plane is putting between us.

I want to put to you the question:
Do you really think the creator of the Clif Bar made up the recipes in his mother’s kitchen when some of those ingredients are Tocopheryl Acetate or Potassium Iodide? Oh man, I’m a literal fuck. Haha.

I would ask either person next to me or the girls behind me, but they’re not you and I don’t think they’d appreciate the desert dry humor.

Written January 7th (India time) 6:30 a.m.

When we got off the plane I was a victim of the obvious tourist faux pas right away. I needed to get my big suitcase over to the group. A man came up to me and offered to help me. I sad yes and shouldn’t have, but I was flustered, exhausted, and obviously new. It didn’t even occur to me that I’d have to tip him b/c I was so focused on just getting my stuff together. I hadn’t exchanged my money yet so I borrowed some from Taylor. How much do you ask? 100 rps. Ha, well, glad to provide a chuckle for you Jersey folk who know that that is waaay too much to give. That guy’s next couple of meals are on me.
The van ride to Fireflies was enough to let me know I am far from home: in a place where a man with a lame leg has to wrap it around a wooden pole so he can walk. Streets lined with garbage and populated by packs of dogs and cows laying on the sidewalks.
It was such a weird way to arrive – in the middle of the night; pitch dark and no one recognizable because we were all walking shadows. I looked up and saw a tall, short haired figure – and for a moment, Demetrius was there with me. I started to cry, but took it as a reminder instead – D has been here. His feet walked these paths and his eyes saw these buildings and occupied their spaces. He told me some time before I left that I will be in his heart and thoughts, just as he will be with me here in spirit. I can feel him here. But even if I were in unchartered territory, I would feel him.
I am hoping to see him sooner than six months. I am not concretely certain I will do whatever I must to make that happen on my end. Fingers crossed.
Last night All but three of us sat outside and talked for an hour after we were put in our temporary rooms. Every one seems like minded about being supportive. “Everyone has their own story” Malika said. I’m going to try and talk about mine less. Listen for awhile.
..
I’ve stayed up. Lauren and Taylor are sleeping. It’s 6:30 a.m. and blue grey light is mixing with the soft yellow of our room. India is waking up. I hear sounds I recognize to be birds and others I wouldn’t know where to place.
I can’t sleep. Lying down means letting my thoughts run wild and I don’t want to hear them now. It’s mainly the missing … and how it bores a hole right into my stomach and makes my chest feel as if an anvil were resting upon it.
So, I sit outside, looking down on the courtyard. There are flutes and drums playing somewhere in the distance, a silk worm lowering itself from a high branch, and a chill in the air which brings my knees to my chest. This is so much already.

You're up at 4 am because two caffeinated drinks were two too many. The same song has been playing on the computer for an hour and the words don't make sense anymore, none of them are seperate, but one with the tune.
You can't breathe through your nose and your eyes won't close. Next to you is a warm body which has big eyes that open wide every half hour or so and then turn white as they roll back and become hidden by heavy sleepy eye lids. You're a little jealous because your hands can't stop moving and your throat hurts from all of the cold air you're putting in it. You can't sleep.
But you're not crying, you're not sad. Instead, when you look to your left you just see a person that you love and who loves you back and who has been more patient and communicative than anyone you've ever met. That, in turn has inspired you to be the same, no matter how extremely frightening it is for you.
Tonight you found a picture of a crowd during a Christmas tree lighting concert that took place outside of the Haledon Municipal Building six years ago. You were in that concert, standing in front of the tree, in the front because you're short. But the picture didn't have you in it. It was just of the crowd and there, standing behind the conductor, was a little woman whose face was beaming with pride and love. You could tell that she was looking at something which meant the world to her. Something she would fight for, the one thing that gave her the greatest joy in the whole world. And that woman was your mother and that "something" was you. There, in a picture, was capture a mother's love. But you're not going to bring it on your trip because looking at it makes you cry and your stomach and your heart fight out battles and twist and wrap into one another. You're not that woman's little girl any more, but what would you do to be? Not forever, but for just a little while... to see your mother the way you did before you knew what a Democrat was. Before you saw her flaws.. The way you saw her every time you ran to her with a broken barbie because you tore her head off again by accident .. they you saw her when you were four and seeing her at the end of the day was the best thing that could happen ... when you weren't taller than her, but only reached her breasts. And you would hug that woman and snuggle into her chest and feel her arms around you. Now her arms just reach under your armpits and your chin has to rest on her bony shoulder and you bend down to kiss her goodbye when you go out at night.
She's not a fortress anymore, she is not the be all and end all. You hear it's healthier that way, but not as satisfying when you need to call someone and you know that your mother cannot be depended on. "Healthier" doesn't cut it when you need to crawl into a ball and be babied because your day was horrible and you know that your mother can't do it. Realize then, that it's not a question of a healthy perspective of this woman, but you have to accept that she cannot relate to you anymore. Not if you are 20 years old. Not if you have different ideals. Not if you are you.
So take her out to dinner, listen when she talks, nod, smile, and look at that picture so you remember how much she loves you.
The giant she was is gone, but you did not slay her.