Ants in My Pants

After living here, I have gained a new level of understanding of the phrase “ants in my pants.”  Ants are not only in my pants—they are EVERYWHERE!  I ate my first ant last week.  On purpose.  Oh yes, you heard (read) correctly.  I opened up the jar of honey and low and behold, a gazillion ants frantically running to and fro inside not to mention those who drowned in the viscous liquid.  For the 3^rd time in the last 3 months, I started the task of fishing out ants from my honey.  If I was home in Canada, I would have thrown away the honey like most westerners.  However, honey is a luxury item here and few can afford it.  I usually use it to sweeten my curd (bumpy yogurt with no addictives) and museli breakfast.  With whatever I receive through people from God, I spend it very carefully and wholesome foods are definitely a priority.  If I throw the honey away, I have to invest 10% of my monthly support once again.  So I diligently remove all the dead ants in the honey so they don’t decompose and add extra protein to my breakfast.  The next morning, surprise, they’re back again!  I had closed the lid tightly, but according to Vimal, they keep marching in circles until they get around the seal.  Magically.  This time I’m too hungry and weary to remove every single ant.  So I just disposed of as many as I could and took the plunge.  I scooped out some honey with ants in it and mixed it into my cereal. 

One thing I’ve learned here is how to turn the blind eye to many things.  When the kids are generously feeding me a bite of their snacks, how can I start thinking about where their hands have been and reject their love?  When someone feeds me a bite of cake for his/her birthday, how can I contemplate all the mouths those fingers have been in before they started shoving cake in my mouth?  When I eat my rice, how can I ponder which cloth Ama used to strain her rice and whether it’s the super-brown discarded sari blouse on which I saw 30 flies alight upon earlier?  When I dip a pail into the water tank to fetch water for washing the ditches, how can I consider the swirly insects that I’ve observed swimming playfully in the water or all the decomposing leaves that have fallen in or the buckets that have been dunked in which most likely weren’t cleaned properly after being set on the bathroom floor?  I can’t.  I just lock those thoughts into a tiny drawer in my mind and keep going about my tasks.  That is my survival tactic.  Just keep going, just keep going, just keep going and going and going. 

That being said, I do take note of some repeated unhygienic behaviours and educate (as well as nag!) the kids accordingly.  But I just gotta pick my battles and deal with a few behaviours at a time, otherwise I will drive myself as well as the kids up the wall nagging.

I digress.  Hmmmm…. Here are a few more interesting places I have seen ants:

-          Pouring out of every crack and crevice in my 16-year-old cement wall as well as behind electric sockets

-          Crawling all over my dirty clothing

-          Swarming over my brown rice sealed tightly in a heavy-duty plastic bag

-          Creeping out of my instant noodles

-          Dancing on my favourite multigrain biscuits (unfortunately, I saw—and felt!—the ants after I took a bite of the biscuits I had opened the previous day)

-          Trekking on my walls in a uniform line

-          Teeming in a circle around a dead baby lizard on the floor of my room

I’ve discovered that the tiny red ants have super sharp teeth: they can gnaw through sturdy aluminum-lined plastic (such as my instant noodle packages), chew through cardboard and even bite human beings!  A bite feels like a little sting and afterwards it’ll swell up like a freshly-scratched mosquito bite.  After they carry off the bits of food they want, they leave behind this crumbly residue.  There have been several times I’ve opened my instant noodles only to discover that the ants have already ravaged it.  In those cases, all I can use is the spice and flavouring packages and then I take from my supply of dry noodles.  My solution: put my food in a plastic tub, fill the lid with water and place the plastic tub on the lid.  The moat works. 

I asked Vimal why ants suddenly appear in huge armies overnight once summertime rolls around (in India, that’s in March).  I mean, why can’t they just be content with eating food all year round?  It’s not like the winters are actually cold and the coolest temperature I’ve experienced is like ~12C late at night.  Besides, I’ve seen them wandering around in the winter time.  Maybe those were the outcasts that were exiled from their anthills (or rather, ant crevices).  But I guess the ants here are extra diligent in the oppressive weather because the behaviour of ants is the same all around the world.  

The Safety Pin: Versatile & suitable for all needs

Here are some common uses for safety pins in India (at least where I live!):

1. Pinning fresh flowers in your hair.  You stick the needle part through the stem of the flower and then stuff hair through the closed safety pin to incorporate it into your braid.  Or you cheat like me and just stick a barrette through the safety pin.
2. Keeping your sari (6 meters of fabric that is draped on with only a tiny top and a long slip underneath) together.  And they only use safety pins, nothing else!
3. Patching up holes that rats bit in your shirts or torn seams.  The solution?  Simple!  Make the holes disappear by safety pinning them on the outside of course—why miss a chance to make a fashion statement?
   
   
   
4. Fixing missing or broken buttons.  Yes, it is possible to have half a button on your dress shirt.  My theory is that this happens here because people beat their clothes on a rock to wash them (maybe beating them helps clean the clothes better due to a combination of momentum and friction?), so buttons break off in chunks.  You just safety pin 2 spots on your dress shirt and you’re ready to go out!
5. Fixing broken zippers.  Zippers are dirt cheap here, like 20 cents for one.  However, the old adage that you get what you pay for rings true.  Most of the zippers on our girls’ dresses and the boys’ jeans and shorts break in a matter of months.  To fix a zipper quickly and economically, simply put a safety pin near the top of the dress and you’ve got a new style going!
6. Tightening loose elastics on skirts.  If your elastic is too loose, just hold the skirt together so it fits just right & then safety pin it.  It’s dirt cheap, foolproof and only takes a fraction of a second. 
7. Cleaning your ear.  If you’re adventurous, open the safety pin, otherwise take a closed safety pin & use it like a Q-tip!
8. Fixing your flip-flops.  Another way to keep your flip-flops together is to stick your safety pin through the thong (the one that keeps popping out) underneath the shoe so that it won’t pop out anymore.  A personal tried and true method.

My theory is that people use safety pins so often to fix clothing because it saves them time and more importantly, money.  Why spend the extra 40 cents (like a third of a day’s salary for those with the least income) to fix your clothes when you have a safety pin?  After all, a pack of safety pins (around 15) is only like 10 cents.  Using safety pins as a quick fix for clothes is super economical, but like one of my friends commented, it makes one look sloppy. 

At the end of the day, those living below the poverty line are concerned about survival.  Pure and simple.  One does not have the money to consider how to look tidy and smart.  All your money is spent on basic necessities like food and rent.  Whatever you save, you use to purchase a set of new clothes for your children for Christmas or their birthdays.  For the underprivileged, gifts are almost always clothes.  Very few can afford luxuries like giving a stuffed animal or a game or new sports equipment.  Books?  Unheard of.  I have not seen a single family with books for pleasure reading.  All the books I’ve seen here are merely textbooks.  (ok, I know I started this with safety pins & have once again landed squarely on the subject of poverty :P  You know where my heart is!)

Today a child came with biscuits and candies to my door to distribute.  It is his birthday.  The tradition here is that you go around treating everyone you know to candies and sometimes biscuits or cookies.  As he handed the goodies to me, all I could think of was 1) he was contacting the biscuits directly, and who knows whether he has washed his hands with soap first?; 2) I don’t like that kind of biscuit and I will save it for my beloved puppies at the school.  Now as I reflect, I realize I’m quite bourgeois compared to those around me.  I know what kind of biscuits I like (the butter cookies that cost 10 cents a pack) and I wrinkle my nose at the cheap biscuits (the ones that cost 4 cents) that I think are tasteless and stale.  I also wrinkle my nose at the birthday cakes sold in the bakeries in the town: they’re dry, crumbly, and the frostings are artificial and grainy with sugar.  After delectable mango mousse cakes in Vancouver, my favourite tiramisu cake, and Catherine’s scrumptious black forest cake, how can I possibly wolf down a piece of Jangareddigudem cake?  But the kids here are appreciative of almost everything they receive, from tasteless biscuits to stale chips.  Perhaps it’s partly due to the lack of knowledge of what’s better.  I suppose this is an example of how the cliché “ignorance is bliss” as a core of truth. 

Regardless, no matter how I try to live like those I serve, it is virtually impossible.  I can’t eat the same diets of which 90% is rice.  I get constipated.  I get lethargic.  I get grumpy.  And I can eat a bite of Jangareddigudem cakes in celebration of a child’s birthday, but I can’t possibly enjoy it.  And if I get suddenly sick or in an accident, I know I have a vast support network in Canada and elsewhere in the world to call upon.  Those here either have to borrow money or die slowly in their homes.  I am fortunate.  I am blessed.  And now, I’m called to be a blessing.

My Sweet Little Ones

The little ones have really taught me about showing love to others.  One of the amazing things about Indian culture is their generosity.  I mentioned in a previous post that Indian culture is very family and community oriented.  Sometimes the kids’ relatives give them some pocket money and they spend 10 cents buying snacks on the way home from church.  When they get a pack of biscuits, they immediately run up to me and pop a biscuit into my mouth.  I don’t like getting fed because I have no idea what those grubby little hands have touched, but I accept their affection gratefully.  Some kids buy 2 pieces of peanut brittle (often made in balls instead of sheets here) and feed me 1.  Their generosity puts to me shame.  When I have snacks like butter cookies or a chocolate bar, I often eat in secret because I don’t want to share.  I want it all for myself.  I will eat while the kids are in school so they don’t see me. 

A few weeks ago, I was in bed with a slight fever.  The kids came in waves to pray for me.  What’s beautiful is that no one told them to!  One of the girls, 10-year-old Sailaja looked for a face towel to wet to put on my forehead while another 9-year-old filled my water bottle.  The oldest girl supervised the kids during homework time, ensuring that they stayed quiet and everyone finished their homework.  Then the girls came back and Sailaja dipped my towel in water again to keep it cool.  It’s so touching to have the tables turn & the kids take care of me.

Returning “Home”

Where is home?  I don’t know.  I feel at home enough here in India, I suppose.  I have no problem with the food, my surroundings, and inconveniences like carrying buckets of water or flushing a toilet with a bucket.  This is a place where I can perceive, but often cannot understand.  This is a place where I’ve discovered that I am quite a perfectionist and really not that flexible.  I guess I’ve dealt with it by anticipating patterns of behaviour.  When I do that, it’s easier for me to come to terms with reality when people’s behaviour is next to impossible for me to understand.

Here are some incomprehensible things I’ve experienced:

1. The contractor tells us his workers can’t come to work because they only found out that morning that we weren’t providing lunch, so they decided not to work that day.  (part of the reason is that he doesn’t want them to have a shortened day of work because he’d lose money that way)
2. The contractor says it’s Christmas & he has Christian workers on break.  The following week there are various reasons why they can’t come to work.  The following week is a Hindu holiday, so now his Hindu workers are on break.
3. The motor guy ( someone who can install the immersion motor for our well) says he’ll be there by 9am for installation.  He’s an hour late and we call to find out that he’s running late.  We call a few hours later and he says that he’s not coming that day anymore because by the time he comes, there’d be a 6h electricity cut & there’s no way to test the motor to see if it’s been properly installed.  He says that he’ll come the next morning.  He doesn’t show up again & Vimal decides to get another motor guy from Janga (the town 30km away from the school) and brings him on the bike.  Finally after 3 days of no water at the school and 3 days of trucking big tubs of water from the nearby village, we get water.  Hurray!
4. A teacher asks for leave (supposedly for only 2 days) to take care of her sick sister (who can be either her real sister or a cousin) and then extends it another 3 days and then calls in sick herself.
5. A teacher goes home in the afternoon because something came up with her family (they usually live on campus because they live a good 1-2h bus ride away from the school).  She states that she’ll be back the next morning for school.  After she’s late for an hour, we call her to find out that she was running late that morning, missed her bus, and has decided not to come to school since the next bus was several hours later.
6. A few of the teachers are seen reading the newspaper in class while their students do their class work.  Some have been seen to be talking on their cells or texting.
7. A part-time house parent (volunteer) tells me that he’ll be back in an hour when going out to run an errand & doesn’t return for 3 days.  He doesn’t call to communicate about anything, but I find out from Vimal that he had to go home to “take care of some family business.”

At the heart of the differences is the value conflicts between the West and East (I’m speaking in generalities here and I’m not claiming to represent everyone in the West or East).  Western culture values the individual, professionalism, and independence above everything else.  Most people won’t take a day off work to take their cousin to a hospital for an x-ray (like one of our teachers did).  Eastern culture values the family and the community.  It’s all about doing things for your family and fulfilling your obligations towards them.  Through my time here, I’ve discovered I’m WAY more Western than Chinese.  I guess my education won in the war with my mom—the war of cultivating values in me. 

I do hold some Chinese values, but not very strongly.  I would schedule my obligations to my immediate family around my work schedule and sometimes, I’d just say, “you’re an adult.  Do it yourself.”  So many times I advocate individuals being responsible and independent.  Here, everyone helps each other out.  Frankly, I don’t always like to be helped though. I like doing things by myself.  I like running my own errands.  I like having independence.  I like doing everything myself because I know exactly what I want and I know exactly how I want things done.  Lol…. is this my perfectionist side coming out again?

I truly need the courage to change the things I can, the serenity to accept the things I can’t change, and the wisdom to discern between the two.  I don’t want to be ethnocentric and have the “West  is best” attitude.  I know as a volunteer here, I need to adapt to fit into the culture, but sometimes I just want to stand against the grain. 

Going back to “home,” I don’t feel like Vancouver is my home either.  I have very different values from the average person in Vancouver.  Of course, I love my scrumptious meal and I enjoy driving a car, but material goods is not what I am pursuing.  When I’m with some people, all they talk about is shopping or some new electronic gadget or this awesome restaurant they’ve discovered.  Of course, there’s nothing wrong with all of that, but that’s just not where my interest lies.  I am just as content eating multigrain bread with a slice of cheese and a big juicy apple as eating from a new restaurant.  Sometimes I’m with people and the conversation swirls around me, and I nod politely, pretending to be interested, but I’m totally out of cahoots with what’s new.  Perhaps that’s why I avoid large group situations and just meet up with people individually so we can talk about our commonalities and catch up personally.

When I was in Vancouver last fall, I listened a lot to the IHOP worship archives (cuz I have my favourite artists!)  Misty Edwards was singing this spontaneous song that just pierced my heart & I knew it was for me from God.  Parts of the song are as follows:

“You’ve always been a free spirit.  People say “will you ever settle down?”  Your whole life, you’ve been a pilgrim, from one place to another…. You’ve always been a pilgrim, like a stranger in the land, always a pilgrim without a homeland…. You have been faithful, so faithful even when others cannot see, and though there have been trials, many, many trials, you’ve been faithful to me.  You didn’t let the opinion of man pull you to the right or the left.”

The whole concept about being a stranger in a foreign land is something God gave me repeatedly through Abraham’s story in Hebrews 11.  The interesting thing is that after I heard this song, in church they sang a song based on Hebrews 11 and then my personal devotions happened to be on Hebrews 11.  I was reading 6 chapters a day and I was on Hebrews at that time.  As one of my friends say, there are no coincidences with God, only God incidents.  So it all comes down on how to balance my own uniqueness, my cultural background, and my education with the social environment I’m in.  How do I be a stranger in a foreign land and respect the land’s cultures and traditions while at the same time standing up for what’s right?  And what does “right” mean?  According to whose standards?  I’m still in the process of figuring out answers and I may never arrive at the destination.