So I really have not been writing as much as I should be. By the time that . As usual, "the past few days have been interesting." But before that, there were just some images during the days that pass by that completely slip my mind usually, so I will try my hand at remembering them now.
One of the random images was when Krishna and I were heading back from the R Mall by bus, and we passed by what looked like had to be an auto-rickshaw graveyard lying next to a river-like gutter. There were just piles and piles of rickshaw tops lying stacked on top of each other upside-down. There were rusted rickshaw bodies strewn about, steering-wheels awry, tires missing, and headlights broken. It felt oddly surreal as we passed by.
Another image stuck in my mind is while Ajit and I walking around Princess Street looking for filters and lab supplies. It has been raining intermittently here in Mumbai; thank goodness more off than on, even though it does become cooler when the rains hit. There was a young girl dressed in dirty clothes that were slightly too big for her. She was holding a metal pot against an opening from a gutter, and trying to transfer that water into a nearly-empty Aquarich bottle.
Before joining the Haath Mein Sehat project, I knew and understood that access to water was a large issue, but I suppose it has not really struck me until just now. As we all know, we all need water to live. We all need water on a daily basis just to survive. And yet, there are companies exploiting this and bottling this water and selling it for hundred-fold the price it costs them, while clean drinking water is practically inaccessible to so many people in the world.
If you think about this, this concept can seem so ridiculous sometimes. How is it that bottled water is such a huge industry, even in the United States where the water coming out of our faucet actually has more quality control than those coming out of nicely packaged bottled water?
There was this article that I read--I cannot recall exactly where I read it--talking about how the bottle for Fiji water costs more than the actual water itself. Almost all of the cost to obtain a bottle of Fiji water comes from just making the bottle itself. Why bother, I wonder.
That being said, I will definitely not deny how much I appreciate bottled water here in India, and when I was in Kenya. Just because others are falling ill due to unclean water means that I should not be buying water so I do not get sick. Still, if it were possible to have everybody have clean drinking water straight from the tap, that would be much preferred. I was speaking to Ajit today, and he explained how it takes Bisleri only 75 pesa, or 0.75 rupees to manufacture one bottle of water that we buy for twelve rupees.
Another incident that seems to be engrained into my mind is from last week when I was walking through Panchsheel Nagar, the slum behind Somaiya Hospital. The amazing discrepancy between the community of BMC workers and the rag-picker communities really struck me. I think that I had talked about this before, but it was just amazing how all of a sudden, from houses made out of brick and sheet metal to shacks with a naked child with only a string around his waist.
All that being said, I guess I should re-cap what has been going on for the past few days since Saturday afternoon and the fruitless wild-goose chase. Saturday night, I did end up going with the others to go clubbing at the Rock Bottom club.
(Photo courtesy of Emily)
They have this really odd dress code where your shoes have to be proper enough to enter. Thank goodness that, being a foreigner, I could get in with my Chaco's sandals, which are definately not fancy material. There was Krishna, her roommate Surbhi, Surbhi's cousin, Avijit, Viru, Nick, Elaine, Anu, Emily and I. The club was interesting.
The music was great. It was a mix of Hindi music, house, and a small amount of American hip-hop. I think that I like the clubs here in India better than those in America.
The ones here are not as shady as those in America. It seems that most people are there definitely to dance, and Hindi music just does not allow for as many old, shady Mexican guys to rub their excited genitalia against your back. If there were any shady people around, the guys always took care of us and switched places with us to make sure that we were okay. I really love the guys here. They definitely show that chivalry is not dead--not that I will ever admit the fact that I like it when a guy makes me walk on the inside of the street, or hold on to me to make sure that I do not get trampled in the "gents car" on the train during the rush.
So the night of Rock Bottom and wonderful dancing was also the night of extreme stupidity on Edith's behalf. Yes, Edith is now speaking in the third person because of how embarrassed she is of what she did. In general, especially when in places like Kenya and India, I am extremely, almost annoyingly, aware of my body and everything that I eat. I notice when my body is lacking in vitamins, carbohydrates, and I usually can even tell when my protein levels are too low. Of course, I never lose track of how much water goes through my body. And yet, this night, I allowed myself become overly dehydrated.
It was to the point where, at around 1:45 in the morning after about two hours of straight dancing, I needed to step out of the club because I was feeling extremely sick and weak. I knew that I was probably dehydrated, but I never realized exactly how dehydrated I was until I noticed that I had only drank a mouthful or two in the past two hours when I usually down an entire bottle after just one hour. Surbhi also wanted to go outside since it had become extremely crowded.
I sat down very uncomfortably on a short metal fence, and felt like vomiting. After about ten minutes, I insisted on going somewhere I could sit down properly and obtain water. While walking to the restaurant right above the club, I needed to lean against Surbhi to walk up to the restaurant. Then, right after entering the door close to the table, my vision completely blacked out.
I have never had my vision black out like that before. It was very frightening, and I almost fainted. Thank goodness Surbhi let me to the chair and immediately ordered water for me. I immediately downed three glasses of water, and felt much better. A little shaken at my own stupidity, but unscarred. Afterwards, the group of us went down to the beach. One thing about the beaches around here that bothers me is how it does not smell like a beach. Usually, when I go to the beach, I can feel the salty air and smell the sand and the waves. Yet, in India, it has not felt like that. I would talk about the ridiculous amount of pollution in the air and in the ocean, but that is just going to be depressing.
Sunday was a fairly lazy day as I was still feeling sick. I made sure everybody was awake at the right time to meet the Ghatkopar Rotaract group for a blood-drive at the Ghatkopar train station, but other than that, I think I just sat around all day. Monday was a lot of the same sitting around, doing small errands here and there on the computer, and that was about it.
I was able to have lunch with Avijit and talk about our respective lives, and that was interesting. Tuesday, yesterday, I was feeling sick in the morning, so I bailed on a meeting in Behrampada. They were supposed to meet with the Bombay Municipal Corporation (BMC) regarding a latrine in Behram, but that fell through. I constructed a letter to the researcher at EurekaForbes, and got some reading done.
I bought two new books, The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy who has an amazing writing style, and also India's Unending Journey by Mark Tully. Apparently Mark Tully has written books about India's development and a lot about the juxtaposition of the rich and the poor that we observe every day here in Mumbai. It will definitely be an interesting read.
I still need to find a cheap but good copy of Shantaram, which is about this man's travels through India, specifically Mumbai. It is cheaper here than in the US, but it is also not in the anal-retentive mint-condition that I like to keep my books.
I picked up some lab supplies from Genesis, and then the group of us went to the Ghatkopar Rotary meeting, which was interesting. It was definitely a lot less pretentious than the meeting that Erin and I went to to present at the Berkeley Rotary club, which was held at the H.S. Lordship at the Marina, but it still had its annoying formalities.
They definitely are just a group of people who donate money to causes, but they also have the cheesy fired-up attitude that all of India seems to have. It is definitely quite amusing. So before the meeting, there was much mingling and talking about our project with rotary members for about half an hour.
During the meeting, one of the old men who is part of the community service committee stood up and started to talk about our project. It was actually very inspiring and definitely cute to hear. There was this short, round man wearing a crisp white collared shirt tucked into his black slacks that were pulled up past his belly-button who stood up at the podium and started out with, "Today we have these visitors from America, and they have been telling me about this amazing project that they have. They are 20-year old girls all the way from America to work on water and hygiene education in the slums in India--places that we, who have been born in India, have never been." They he goes on to saying that if we had the courage to do this, then they should make an effort to be helping out their own country.
Today was waking up after 3-4 hours of sleep, leaving home by 7:45 in the morning, waiting for hours, walking through the slums and sweating a gallon of water while trying to collect water samples, hours of lab work, and then collapsing after getting home at 5:00 pm. I will explain more later. I am going to be content with how my day ended by eating the most amazing Gudrati food ever.
Pictures from water testing in Panchsheel Nagar.
Picture of the Day: This is horrible.
This is Edith, signing out.
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