On Friday, my program set out from our program center in Jaipur to head west for our second excursion. We packed into another huge bus, as always with TOURIST written across the windshield, and left for Bikaner.
Before we got to Bikaner, we stopped for a meeting with a girls' school. It was an NGO-operated boarding school for girls from the local colleges to study for their 5th and 8th standards. As you might be able to guess, that means for the 5th and 8th grades in American terms.
We started our visit by being served dinner - a standardly delicious rice, roti, dal, and some veg combo. At the time, I thought students were serving us. We all used the opportunity to try out our newest Hindi lesson - polite commands. "Please don't give me more dal!" "Please don't give!"
We threw away our leaf-plates*, washed our right hands and suddenly were surrounded by a large group of young girls. We sat down throughout the crowd, and then introduced ourselves one by one, in stumbling Hindi. I will admit that I was the first to garner applause by my genius, and dare I say ice-breaking use of the Hindi word for 'lady friends'. Roughly my introduction was "My name is Olivia. Today - now - we are lady friends." Booyah.
After our introductions, we began asking questions to the students and staff. Some of the answers were eerily similar to what mine would be - when asked what they tell their parents about school, the girls said "I am learning lots, they feed me really well, and I have lots of time to play." I have passed similar reassurances back to my own parents, who by the way should know, that I am learning a lot, eating well, and playing more than ever. When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, the girls stood up and shouted out different professions "Nurse!" "Engineer!" "Doctor!" "Teacher!" "Policewoman!"
Most of the answers were not like what mine would be. For example, when asked if they were married, some of them answered yes. Just to return back to an earlier point, these girls are in 5th and 8th grade. For those who are married, a ceremony had already taken place to match them to their husbands, and at the time when the reach puberty (or 18, according to different translators at different times) they will leave school and go to stay at their husband's family's home. When asked how they knew about the school, one girl answered that her sister had attended. Oh and what happened to her? She's married now, living in her husband's home and using the vocational training that the school also offers to make some extra money.
After our talking, we split into smaller groups to play games - Indian versions of Steal the Bacon, Simon Says, and another game about forming groups quickly of a certain number (I've played ones like this before in the US, but can't remember any names). While playing, the 4 boys (already excluded from my inspiring 'lady friends' friendship accord) were eliminated almost instantly. The students were fundamentally uncomfortable interacting with them in any way. I, on the other hand, was somewhat of a hit, and let my lady friends handle the numbers while I just got dragged from group to group.
Soon, my arms were by claimed by the ambitious Mumta, who began approximating a canvas before I had even realized that these girls were packing henna. While she worked on my arm, I tried to ask the girls questions to get the conversation flowing. What is your favorite animal? Mine is a goat (lies.) What is your favorite color? Who is in your family? What is your favorite book/subject? The girls were silent most of the time. Later I was informed that is unusual to ask girls about likes and dislikes in rural Rajasthan - good girls simply take the opinion of their husbands and make it their own.
The girls were welcoming, kind, and enthusiastic to have us there - pretty much lovely all around. Their enthusiasm was really refreshing. When so many standards and expectations are drastically different, its hard to know right from wrong, from different.
*I have used no paper plates since coming here, but instead have been served many time on a leaf plate. It seems to be a two-step process for the plate - pressing it into a normal plate shape (with elevated rims) and stitching the leaves together with some sort of raffia-like cord. They are not spill proof or whole proof, so we often use two or three at a time. They also come in bowls.
Before we got to Bikaner, we stopped for a meeting with a girls' school. It was an NGO-operated boarding school for girls from the local colleges to study for their 5th and 8th standards. As you might be able to guess, that means for the 5th and 8th grades in American terms.
We started our visit by being served dinner - a standardly delicious rice, roti, dal, and some veg combo. At the time, I thought students were serving us. We all used the opportunity to try out our newest Hindi lesson - polite commands. "Please don't give me more dal!" "Please don't give!"
We threw away our leaf-plates*, washed our right hands and suddenly were surrounded by a large group of young girls. We sat down throughout the crowd, and then introduced ourselves one by one, in stumbling Hindi. I will admit that I was the first to garner applause by my genius, and dare I say ice-breaking use of the Hindi word for 'lady friends'. Roughly my introduction was "My name is Olivia. Today - now - we are lady friends." Booyah.
After our introductions, we began asking questions to the students and staff. Some of the answers were eerily similar to what mine would be - when asked what they tell their parents about school, the girls said "I am learning lots, they feed me really well, and I have lots of time to play." I have passed similar reassurances back to my own parents, who by the way should know, that I am learning a lot, eating well, and playing more than ever. When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, the girls stood up and shouted out different professions "Nurse!" "Engineer!" "Doctor!" "Teacher!" "Policewoman!"
Most of the answers were not like what mine would be. For example, when asked if they were married, some of them answered yes. Just to return back to an earlier point, these girls are in 5th and 8th grade. For those who are married, a ceremony had already taken place to match them to their husbands, and at the time when the reach puberty (or 18, according to different translators at different times) they will leave school and go to stay at their husband's family's home. When asked how they knew about the school, one girl answered that her sister had attended. Oh and what happened to her? She's married now, living in her husband's home and using the vocational training that the school also offers to make some extra money.
After our talking, we split into smaller groups to play games - Indian versions of Steal the Bacon, Simon Says, and another game about forming groups quickly of a certain number (I've played ones like this before in the US, but can't remember any names). While playing, the 4 boys (already excluded from my inspiring 'lady friends' friendship accord) were eliminated almost instantly. The students were fundamentally uncomfortable interacting with them in any way. I, on the other hand, was somewhat of a hit, and let my lady friends handle the numbers while I just got dragged from group to group.
Soon, my arms were by claimed by the ambitious Mumta, who began approximating a canvas before I had even realized that these girls were packing henna. While she worked on my arm, I tried to ask the girls questions to get the conversation flowing. What is your favorite animal? Mine is a goat (lies.) What is your favorite color? Who is in your family? What is your favorite book/subject? The girls were silent most of the time. Later I was informed that is unusual to ask girls about likes and dislikes in rural Rajasthan - good girls simply take the opinion of their husbands and make it their own.
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| Mumta! Doing her thing. I gave the camera to the girls while they tsked at me for moving while my henna dried, so I have a lot of photos like this. |
*I have used no paper plates since coming here, but instead have been served many time on a leaf plate. It seems to be a two-step process for the plate - pressing it into a normal plate shape (with elevated rims) and stitching the leaves together with some sort of raffia-like cord. They are not spill proof or whole proof, so we often use two or three at a time. They also come in bowls.
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