Something to Write Home About

By Olivia Hay ‘17, Lady Doak College (2017-2019)

During orientation for Shansi a year and a half ago, we all received a book titled “Something to Write Home About,” the collection of letters and narratives from past  fellows. I read through it avidly, especially the ones written about Madurai. From all these stories, I tried to construct some semblance of an idea of what life would be like for me in a country that I had never been to before. The narratives also reminded me of the legacy I would soon become a part of. As my first year comes to a close, I’ve been thinking more and more about my contribution to this legacy. What should I write about for my first year narrative? What do I have to say about my experience here so far? When I think of the past year, I think of all the things that I have shared with family and friends; all the  embarrassing stories, all the frustrations, and all my personal victories.  So here I would  like to share a few of the things that I have in fact, written home about. 

My first few months were by far some of the most challenging of my life. One of the most difficult things about moving abroad is not feeling in control; not even of the mundane things like crossing the street and going to the grocery store. But once these things became settled, the rest fell in to place. It’s never easy to start over, especially in an unfamiliar cultural sphere, but experiencing these challenges has been both humbling and  illuminating. I’ve tried to highlight some of these experiences in this narrative and as you’ll see, I’ve been asked a lot of tough questions this year, many that I do not yet have answers to. Through my narrative it may also become apparent that my experiences with many people are tinged heavily by the obviousness of my foreignness. What I mean to say is, that the kindness afforded me by virtue of my being a white American should not be underestimated, though I do not think that that diminishes the kindnesses I have received. I’ve surprised myself in a lot of ways this year. I’ve done things I never thought I could do. I swallowed anxieties. And, critically, I lived in a country that I never imagined I would visit.

…..

The first time I saw an elephant was at Alagarkoil, a temple in the hills of Madurai dedicated to Vishnu. I stopped in my tracks to marvel at the size of the thing and wonder whose job it was to decorate the elephant’s face with painted symbols. 

​My friend encouraged me to give it an offering in exchange for a blessing. Eagerly I placed a five rupee coin in its trunk, only to get smacked across the face a few seconds later by the same limb.

“…did the elephant just slap you in the face?” 

“You’re supposed to bow your head after you give the donation…” my friend laughed.

 …..

 “So… what did people think about you moving to India?”

I sat with two other women my age at the top of a hill in Kodaikanal to take a rest in the shade. It was my first venture outside of Madurai and I went with a student from UW Madison interning at an NGO in Madurai for the summer. Dearly missing the greenery and crisp air of my native Oregon, I arranged for us to go on a hike with a guide. We were joined that day by a student from the University of British Columbia interning at an NGO in Kodai. We chatted happily about our experiences in India so far and eventually the conversation veered towards the reactions of family and friends to our summer plans.

“My family was really concerned about my safety,” said the student from UW Madison. “A lot of people told me that what I was doing was brave,” I said.

The girl from UBC laughed. “…is it?” She replied.

…..

“Hey Olivia, my mom is wondering when you’re coming to visit my home… can you come this weekend?”

Since my arrival many students had invited to me to their homes. This particular student lived in a town bordering the neighboring state of Kerala. We took a train two hours west and upon stepping through the front door I was bombarded with siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins – more family than I’d experienced at once in a very long time. Over the weekend they took me to a hill station to see waterfalls, to a night market, and fed me a continuous stream of delicious home cooked foods – my initiation to Indian hospitality.

Before we left, the student’s mother gave me a package – my first sari. Gold and cream and crimson.

“Please take care of my daughter,” she told me. “She really wants to do her higher education abroad. You’ll help her do it, won’t you?”

…..

“I didn’t know there were any tennis clubs in Madurai!” I said to an acquaintance excitedly. “Could you introduce me to the coach some time?”

“I don’t think so…” she replied with a sidelong glance.

“All of the coaches are men and women don’t really play sports here…”

…..

“So the entire site is closed… for two whole days…?”

It was our first day in Hyderabad and Golconda Fort was at the top of our list. “Sorry, no visitors. Ms. Trump is coming today.”

We looked sadly at the imposing stone structure from the gate.

We’d seen billboards plastered with Ivanka Trump’s face across the city for the upcoming Global Entrepreneurship Summit, but didn’t expect it to interfere with our travel plans. “It’s okay, there’s something else to see nearby,” my brother offered​.

Irritated, I began to walk back the way we had come.

“I hope Ivanka Trump gets food poisoning while she’s in Hyderabad,” my brother said with deadpan humor, recently recovered from food poisoning himself.

​And then we turned a corner into the park that held the Qutb Shahi Tombs.

The enormous white domes peered down at us from a cloudless blue sky. The mausoleums were massive. The tops cracked with climbing vines, some sprouted bushes. The park was abandoned and the tombs sat grandly in their solitude.

In a second my disappointment over Golconda Fort turned to pure amazement. The tombs were unlike anything I’d ever seen.

​…..

My brother and I sat at the top of an enormous staircase carved out of rock. We were surrounded by dusty tourists and crumbling pillars. Our legs and arms were cut and bruised from a mishap earlier in the day. We had both agreed upon arrival that the landscape of Hampi was like the Flintstones cartoon brought to life. Stone architecture and foundations blended with massive boulders. A river drifted lazily between slabs of granite and palms.

“This isn’t what I was expecting India to be like,” my brother said.

…..

“We’ll come visit you in Madurai some time.”

My brother and I were in the final leg of our trip, spending time with a family friend in Bangalore.

“Madurai is small…,” Lakshmi’s husband said with disdain, not unlike what I had heard back in the States when I mentioned to most anyone that I went to school in Ohio.

“No one really lives there, it’s just a temple town.” “That’s not true,” Lakshmi shot back. “That’s like saying the only thing in Kolkata is the Durga Temple…”

 …..

 “I saw on Facebook that you’re a tennis player,” a student said. “Yes, I used to be,” I replied.

“But, you’re not playing here..?” she asked.

I gave her the same excuses I had been giving myself for months: I don’t know where any courts are… I’m worried that no one will speak English… And echoing in the back: “women here don’t really play sports.”

“Actually ma’am, there’s a tennis academy really close to the college,” the student offered. I thought of my racquets sitting untouched in my room and replied, “You know what? I’m going to play tennis today.”

…..

“Ma’am, can I ask you something…?”

I cringed at the word “ma’am,” still not used to the formal sounding term. “What’s up?” I said.

The student I was talking to was selected to go on study abroad to a college in Virginia. Annually, Lady Doak selects just five students to participate in study abroad programs; two always go to Mary Baldwin University in the U.S.

This particular student then shared with me a story from a family friend who had spent time in the United States. She told me this person had been harassed a few times while on public transportation.

“Am I going to face discrimination in the U.S… because I’m Indian?” she asked. I sat in silence, struggling to think of a way to be both reassuring and honest.

…..

“Ma’am, last class someone asked how the UN helps with climate change… and so I decided to do my own research.”

​I nodded, encouraging her to go on. It was the second week of a certificate course I had planned called Passport Club. The class was centered on the notion that knowing the location of different countries and places is an important foundation for understanding the world. My ultimate hope for the course was that students would have the tools and curiosity to better understand current events.

“…and I learned about something called the Paris Agreement that happened in 2015,” she continued.

“Yes, yes, the Paris Climate Agreement!” I said enthusiastically.

The student went on for a minute or so, summarizing the articles she had read on her own. “That’s awesome,” I said, elated that one student had already taken the initiative to learn outside of class.

“Could you tell the class about what you found out?”

The student’s expression changed from sheepish to horror-stricken. “No, Ma’am!”

…..

“You eat so well with your hand!” another faculty member complimented me. “Yes, well, it was sink or swim,” I said.

​…..

I waited listlessly outside a shop in Cochin while my mom tried to strike a deal with the shop owner over a few scarves. My parents had come to visit me and we decided to spend a week in Kerala. My mom poked her head out of the shop and waved me in. As I approached the counter, the shop owner gave me a big smile and said, “Yeppadi irukkinga?”

“How are you?” in Tamil.

“Nallaa irukkeen,” I responded automatically.​

Though I had found a new Tamil tutor in the past month and made quite a lot of progress, my attempts to put my new skills to use still felt taxing. After several days of negotiating with auto drivers to get my parents around Madurai, I was looking forward to a week where I would be under no obligation or expectation to understand anything in the state language of Kerala, Malayalam. But in that moment, Tamil felt comfortable and familiar to hear.

“Tamil theriyumaa?” I asked. You know Tamil?

“Aamaa!” He laughed and explained that he was originally from Tamil Nadu. The shop owner added another scarf to my mother’s pile.​

“Since you know Tamil, you can take this scarf for free.”

…..

 “Unkalukku yenna pidikkathu?”

“What’s something you don’t like?” My Tamil teacher asked in order for me to practice the like/dislike construction.

“Yenakku drumstick pidikkathu.”

I don’t like drumstick, I said referring to a vegetable that has both the appearance and texture of a drumstick.

“Oh… that’s because you don’t know how to eat it,” my teacher said. “What do you mean…?” I asked, confused.

​“I can’t believe you’ve been in India for seven months and no one has showed you how to eat drumstick…”

…..

“They’re talking about possibly doing a lift with you at the end of the dance…” my friend, Nisha, informed me as my dance teacher, Karishma, talked conspiratorially in Tamil at the other end of the room.

We were preparing for the annual dance showcase put on by the studio. Though I had only been taking Bollywood dance classes for a few months, I had agreed to be part of the show. “What?! Why?!” I said in response.

“Probably because you’re white…” Nisha laughed.

…. 

“Okay, we’ll start with the roll call… People’s Republic of China?” I asked. “Present and voting.”

“Republic of India.” I went down the list.

Six students looked around, unsure but eager. For the past month, I had worked with one especially motivated student to organize a Model United Nations club at Lady Doak. Together we held several sessions to teach students the rules of debate and how to write position papers and resolutions. Of the thirty students who had initially expressed interest, only six showed up for the actual simulation. Though it was slow going at first, the debate picked up speed and students ended up drafting two resolutions on topics related to climate change.

It’s hard to explain the pride I felt for the group at the end of the session. A few students were ones I had grown close to during the semester and I was so touched by their enthusiasm and efforts to try something new. Moments like these are what I love about the fellowship and when I think of my purpose here on campus, I think back to my successful facilitation of those opportunities and feel that I am doing something worthwhile.

​…..

I sat in the back of an auto rickshaw feeling ridiculous in a pink and orange mesh top with small mirrors reflecting light from the standstill traffic.

My phone rang.

“Hi Olivia, where are you? The show has already started!” “Another few minutes, I’m almost there.”

My nerves over the thought of performing a dance for the first time in front of a crowd were drowned out by the sudden fear that I would miss the performance entirely.

Finally the auto arrived. I jumped out, handed the driver a few bills without bothering to ask for change and ran backstage.

“Thank god,” my dance teacher said, “We’re going on in five! And Olivia… don’t forget to smile, you always look too serious. Bollywood dance is supposed to be fun!”

​Worried more about remembering the routine, I stepped out on the stage and felt the same elation I have experienced only while playing tennis well in front of a crowd. I saw the packed auditorium and couldn’t help but break into a smile as the music began.

​…..

The Qutb Shahi Tombs of Hyderabad, November 2017

Hampi, November 2017

Students prepared for debate on several topics related to the environment for the first Model United Nations session, March 2018

Passport Club students show off their passports and stamps, March 2018

Performing at the Madurai Chamber of Commerce as part of a dance show put on by Youforia Dance School, where I've been taking Bollywood dance classes since September, March 2018

Though there have been a lot of bumps this year, I’ve learned to approach them in a similar way to driving through the potholed roads of Madurai on my two-wheeler scooter. After a year, I know where to expect them, how to avoid them, and when it comes down to it, to just bear down and get through it. Despite my less than auspicious beginnings, this past year was filled with victories big and small, as well as with interactions and relationships that were both heartwarming and challenging. Especially important to me have been moments where students have trusted in me or have taken initiative to learn and grow.

India is truly glorious and every day I’m thankful that I have the opportunity to experience this country in all its varieties. I look forward to learning more in the next year, and I’ll surely have many more things to write home about.

Hanging out with ISC Students