In the Village...

Down in Dantewada

Baby Dog

After a week and a half of a horrible illness (likely some sort of food poisoning from eating rubbish off the street) Baby Died yesterday. We tried really hard to save him, the vet came several times, we gave him electrolytes, special food and water, but he couldn't keep anything down and he was in so much pain. Today we buried him in a peaceful place at a friends farm.

Indian Wedding

Scrappy-Doo

Yes, even here, I end up with doggies. Two puppies born in September. Even though they are “village dogs” (unowned, dirty, diseased etc…) Myself and a neighbor about three doors down feed them. And they are a highlight to everyday. The larger female we call Josie Grosie (as she used to have a bad case of mange but is doing much better now). The little one, who though the same age, is almost 1/3 Josie’s size we call “Baby”. I am thinking of re-naming him “Scrappy-Doo” after Scooby’s smaller yet feistier side-kick. This little guy cracks me up. He is so tiny and scrawny. His little bones stick out everywhere and when you feed him, his little belly blows up like a water balloon. But this guy is all EGO! He thinks he is a big fella and I have been walking down the street and seen him try to take on a giant village dog. He barks, he growls and snaps his teeth and you can’t believe so much noise could come out of such a little creature. But it doesn’t seem to matter how much I feed him… he just won’t grow and these past few days I even think he is doing worse (I will take him to the vet tomorrow to get him de-wormed). When I first met these little pups, I resisted the urge to get attached to them. Several years ago when I was living in Tanzania, I had a village dog named “Scruffy” that I became very attached to, and one day while I was out in the field doing research, I came home to learn that the mini-bus driver had run him over, maliciously. The other villagers who saw it said that he appeared to have done it on purpose. Why? No reason, sometimes cruelty begets cruelty and the lesser creatures, the helpless are so often the victims. So I know with something as vulnerable as this little dog, in a world that is already so difficult…I know I don’t want to get attached. But as time has gone on, and they sleep under my feet while I work, getting up every once in awhile to frighten me by licking my toes (yikes), as they excitedly walk with me to the store or wag their tails so hard at me in the morning that it looks like the little one will flop over with wagging, I have become attached. I turn them out at night and hear them fighting with other village dogs and every morning when I open the gate I half expect to not see the little one. Every time I feed him I fear it will be the last time. Their mother was attacked by another village dog last week, she had a deep cut in her front leg, I went out to help her, but knew I couldn’t she is much bigger and when and animal is in pain, I know what their reactions to touch usually are… being that they aren’t vaccinated, it was too dangerous. I watched her that day as she limped around. But I have not seen her since. These puppies may now be motherless. Why in a world with so many difficult things, when the work I am doing with people can already be so difficult, why is it that a little dog becomes a symbol of the struggle and even of the acceptance I must have of struggle, loss and disappointment. I suppose I have learned to accept the harsh realities of life, without protecting myself, without avoiding loving something, even when I know it might hurt me or I might lose it. Is this progress? Well “Baby” thinks so, he is quite enjoying all the attention!

ANTS!

Ants... I spend half my day (and night) flicking them off of me, yet they are possibly the most amazing creatures on the planet; they are industrious, cooperative, organized, efficient, quick, strong and with have some sort of unexplainable group intelligence... it's almost enough to make one want to be an entomologist. I was in the kitchen and nearly leaned on this wall of ants. They looked like they were moving house as half of them had larvae on their backs, and it was on this wall that they got together to vote on where their new home should be? Gross or Amazing... I am not sure which.

P.S. Yeah... isn't the Kitchen a Beauty!

The Indian Rooftop

I have discovered the Indian rooftop and in so doing have slowly begun to soak in the rhythm of life here. What a wonderful place the Indian rooftop. Without peaked roofs, the roof is used as an additional level. I go up in the day and find it is a few degrees hotter, and in the night a few degrees cooler. From the rooftop I can see all around our little village in the suburbs of town. If I go to one side and look down at the ground I can see ours and our neighbors garbage strewn about and pigs rummaging though the piles (I can hear them doing this through my window when I wake in the morning). In the afternoon they will take a break and sleep in the garbage while their piglets suckle. It took me awhile to figure out how my garbage was getting down there, until one day I caught the lady who comes to clean, going to the rooftop and dumping it over the edge. Sometimes I stand at this edge of the roof and examine what exactly our neighbors have been consuming and throwing away, hey, I’m sure they do the same thing to us, besides, I can’t help it, it’s the anthropologist in me. From the other side of the roof I can see the construction of houses across the street, houses with yet more rooftops. The construction team appears to be 60% women, who carry the sand and cement on their heads and dump and form as directed by the other 40%. There are giant sand piles that they are using it mix with the cement, and I can see two boys in clothes that looked as though they were recently clean playing in the sand and I imagine the sound of their mother’s voice when she sees them return from whatever errand the sand pile distracted them from. Nearby I see about 5 village dogs sleeping in the construction rubbish pile. In the distance is a marshy area where water buffalo soak and more pigs rummage. The Water Buffalo are my favorite part of the days here. They walk by the house twice every day, out to the water in the morning then back in the evening. There is usually someone walking behind them, but they have the air of having done this walk so many times that they really pay him no attention. In their walk is an easiness, even a wiseness, they are large and their leathery backs are black and glossy, yet they are pleasant and seem to walk at their own pace in life. Sometimes in mid-day a few will wander off and do their own thing in other parts of the village. No one seems to mind and they always find their way back to the herd. I always stop to look at them when they walk by. One morning as they were walking out to the marshy field, I paused to watch and started saying to myself out loud how much I loved the Water Buffalo. Almost as if on cue, the Buffalo in front of me relieved himself of some moist and smelly cargo, and I was forced to rethink my position on the Water Buffalo. Before I had a chance to turn away and move onto other things in life, a village woman came and excitedly scooped up the manure and put it in a bag. No doubt to form it into patties and dry and sell as fuel for fire. Aaaaah the circle of life.
In the evenings when it starts to cool a bit (if a one degree decrease is actually considered cooling) I go up to the roof. I see women taking in the clothes that were drying, husbands and wives walking back and forth across their roofs, children flying kites, or the lonesome kite that has been tied to the clothesline that is flying itself. It is in the evening when I am inspired to become more active and exercise a little bit on the rooftop, doing lunges or wall sitting, anything to attempt to keep fit. I am sure I am putting on a show since I have seen people wave to me from the ground before, but it is much better to exercise on my private roof than to try to run through the village (especially in this heat). My favorite thing to do on the roof top, is to go up after dark. It is wedding season and there isn’t a wedding without fireworks! During a few hours in the night you can not go up to the roof without seeing two or three different firework displays in several directions. I feel like I am at Disneyland every night, only without all the rides. When the fireworks are over, I love to lie down on the big beam that combines our two roofs into one (exactly the width of my body) and listen to the sounds, the music from a party, the crickets chirping and look at the stars (while swatting mosquitoes). Aaaah peaceful.