What to Give to the Person who has Everything?

It’s that time of year– stressing about the annual gift giving that accompanies a couple of religions’ major holidays. 

If I may, I’d like to offer a suggestion to those who are fresh out of meaningful ideas: redirect the gift to those who have nothing in the name of the person with everything.

On the way to the airport in Delhi, my cab was unable to stop at a traffic light without being hounded by small children, old men, young mothers, and others all looking for some food or money.  Not wanting to condone begging in the middle of a four-lane road, especially for the kids, nor believing that this is the best way to change things, I thought I might use my blogging platform to encourage others to give some money to organizations that can help.  The following links are for non-profits that I’ve briefly vetted. 

http://www.forgottenchildren.net/index.htm (US 501(c)(3) tax deductible)

http://www.giveindia.org/give/common/genfaq.jsp  (For US Tax Payers:
u/s 501(c)(3) only if you donate through the partner website, Give World)

http://www.childhaven.ca/ourstory.htm

While there’s no panacea for the widespread poverty in India and the rest of the world, doing nothing means just that, and in India even giving a little translates into big gains. 

I’ll add more links when I can so keep checking…

 

“Horn Please”

I’m not quite sure why most vehicles in India are equipped with sideview mirrors– they seem to be angled in such a way as to provide the driver with a glimpse, perhaps, of his own face or that of his passengers.  What they are definitely not used for is to see if anyone is approaching or passing on the side. 

Why would they?  India has developed an ingenious system that makes full use of the horn that we in the States so often neglect.  Instead of honking when someone cuts you off (how rude!), the Indians use their horn to give a loud extended honk to tell a driver up ahead that they are passing.  All. The. Time.  Many trucks even have brightly painted instructions on the back of their trucks of “Horn Please” to ensure the constant reminder that, yes!, there are other vehicles on the road. 

The system seems to work, though I have almost inadvertently fallen out of a rickshaw on several occasions when a truck would sneak up behind us and suddenly lay on his horn…  But, after all, what’s a little noise pollution in the midst of terrible air pollution?

 

A Lack of Water Everywhere…

Common to this part of the world are problems caused by lack of water.  Its scarcity is seen in the build-up of grime, the buckets in the bathrooms (for sponge baths), empty river and lake beds, and in domestic and international conflicts.

I’ve tried to quell my anger at the filth that is inescapable in India because I’ve realized that my simplistic solution of “why don’t they just wash it off” does not apply in a country where water is so hard to come by.  I’m unclear as to whether it’s high prices or dry taps that keep water usage under relative control– washing things is done sparingly, if at all.  What I have heard, however, is that India’s expanding tourism industry–a boon to the economy in so many ways– brings with it millions of water-hungry westerners for whom daily showers are practically a right (rite?).  Try as I may, I have yet to choose a sponge bath if a shower if present.

In the Jaipur region (about 5 hours from Delhi) several forts call to mind the elementary school exercise of “what’s wrong with this picture?”.  Imagine a serenely beautiful palace (for that’s what these forts really are) perched in or above a lake-sized patch of dirt, with banks clearly delineated, and often small pools of residual dirty water from which a few intrepid locals still try to fish.  This is the scene I saw at a couple of Jaipur’s palaces, and dried up rivers and pond banks are visible throughout the region.  According to several people, the cause is the lack of a big monsoon during the past few years.

The problems that accompany lack of water are more than personal and transcend quality of life issues.  They are ‘ability of life’ issues and are at the root of many conflicts, both domestic and international.  Currently, two districts in the south of India are in dispute because Tamil Nadu, owner of a dam in the Kerala district, wants to raise dam levels to dangerous heights.  Their desire is understandable– the dam provides water to three districts, and is in high demand.  Kerala’s position is also understandable.  Should the dam collapse as a result of high water levels, those living in the vicinity of the dam could be in a dangerous flood path.   And then there are the dissenters, such as people living in Tamil Nadu who fear losing all their water in the attempt to gain a little bit more. 

India’s dam building is also ruffling feathers internationally.  The Indus River and its tributaries flow through both India and Pakistan, as well as the disputed region of Kashmir.  The Indus Water Treaties of 1960 specified which country could use which water and for what purposes (eg India could not use some of the Indus’ tributaries for irrigation at the expense of downstream Pakistan).  However, India is currently constructing the Baglihar Dam on the Chenab River in the Indian controlled part of Kashmir.  It seems that depending on whom you speak with, you’ll get different answers as to whether this violates the Indus Water Treaties, with Pakistan seeing the construction as a poaching of their upstream waters.

This problem is not unique to India and its neighbors.  Rapidly growing populations and expanding economies make for thirsty places.   I’ve heard that the Persian Gulf is becoming increasingly salty as Dubai (and other Emirates?) use desalinization processes of the Gulf to obtain potable water.   And Turkey’s Southeast Anatolia Project that involves the contruction of 21 dams and 17 hydroelectric power plants (source:wikipedia) comes at the price of angering downstream neighbor, Iraq.

It’s quite easy to take many of our resources for granted– for us at home the worst is typically the water bills that must be paid.  In other places the situation is much more dire, affecting quality of life and instigating conflicts. 

 

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Arriving in India on Thanksgiving Day was a shock to the senses.  After ultra-new, monied Dubai, Delhi provided an entirely different experience.  After 24 hours of feeling like I was back in middle school (the highs were higher, the lows were lower), I came to the following sketch of Delhi.

The Good

Like many places, Delhi has clogged roads.  Though surprisingly, they were not as bad as I expected due to the construction of a metro that has taken 1.650 buses off the roads since it opened in 2002 and increased average road speed by 4 km/hour (roughly 2.4 mph).   This metro, which has inspired similar projects in cities across India, has helped reduce pollution by 30% (though I shudder to think of what it was like before the metro).  Also helping to keep the air relatively clean is the use of CNG (Clean Natural Gas) in the many rickshaws trawling the streets.  Small, maneuverable, and mildly terrifying, the rickshaws are a favorite mode of transportation for groups of 2-4 people.  Many of the rickshaws have CNG written on the back, signifying that they are now running on this clean natural gas, helping to ease the clogging of the air.

Another aspect of Delhi, and India in general, that I would categorize as good (better yet, great, or mesmerizing) is the quality of light.  For some reason, perhaps because of the pollution, objects seems to be lit not by the sun, but perhaps by the air around them.  This results in a tremendously warm light at many points throughout the day and oddly illuminated objects.  Coupled with the colors of the area– brightly painted objects and colored fabrics– the effect is entrancing.

The Bad

The tourism industry in India relies heavily on touts.  At first this is entertaining, even interesting, as people on the streets approach tourists to talk them into visiting a particular shop, or even tourism office.  However, when a thirty minute walk turns into two hours because of seemingly helpful young men who offer help you to untangle the maze of Delhi streets (that does NOT correspond to a map) by then directing you to a store or tour office, it becomes downright frustrating, and negates sightseeing as a reason for being in Delhi altogether.  During one particular excursion, Ed and I were approached by at least six men, all of whom “weren’t selling anything” but were adamant that we visit a particular tourism agency.  It got to the point where we could not escape– we were being followed by almost every do-gooder to ensure that we did not get lost on the way to the tourism office.  According to those in Delhi, there is nothing to see except the tourism office… 

Add to this scenario unrelenting traffic.  Traffic that makes no sense– that uses the lines on the road as suggestions to be discarded the moment a constantly shape-shifting free space into which to maneuver makes itself available.  This goes for turning too.  There is no planning ahead, no switching into the right lane if one wants to make a right-hand turn.  Instead, the strategy seems to be to get as close to the intersection as possible and then aggressively weave your way through the dozens of other cars, rickshaws, bicycles, camels, etc utilizing the same exact strategy.  And one must honk ones horn the entire time.  Depending on my mood this alternates between entertaining and ridiculous.

The Ugly

India is poor.  It is a type of poverty that I have not seen before– not in Romania where I stayed with a family with no running hot water and that cooked over a fire in the backyard, nor in Georgia, where the center of the city surrounding the new cathedral has unpaved roads and similar living conditions to that in Romania.  In India, the poverty is a combination of desperation, acceptance, and disrespect that makes me resent myself and the people I see.

My first impression was in Pahar Ganj–not exactly the nicest section of Delhi.  It houses a lot of budget hotels and as such had an odd mix of abject poverty and tourism.  Unlike other parts of Delhi, the poverty is more open and less controlled.  The morning I arrived, tiny fires of garbage burned haphazardly in the streets– not moved to one side, no system of trying to contain the rubbish burning to a specific place, to tidy it perhaps.  To me this seemed to be tantamount to embracing the poverty, rather than rising above it.  Perhaps this is true, or perhaps it is just part of the chaotic nature of Indian life where order isn’t necessarily aspired to…

What really bothered me, however, was the disrespect with which most citizens (mainly male) treat their city.  Spitting is constant (perhaps due to the pollution), as is littering, as is peeing wherever, whenever, by anyone male. Despite the existence of “public conveniences” (restrooms) it seems that many men prefer to relieve themselves in the streets, in broad daylight, even in nicer sections of town dressed in nice pants and a button-down shirt. 

Poverty may be out of a lot of people’s control, but how one responds to that poverty and chooses to live within it is controllable.  In my opinion, adding to the rank conditions and constant reek of sewer in one’s home is within one’s control..  And choosing to do so is ugly in the worst sense of the word.

India is a captivating country, and seems to reward those who are able to look past the surface grime and close their ears to touts. The chaos is frustrating and enlivening and with constant splashes of color, amazing food, and foreign animals, architecture and fruit, it is easy to feel small again, trying to decipher the world around you.