So it is the last morning of my stay in India and I am officially 1/3 through my whole trip - at some ungodly hour tonight I shall board my plane and fly to Perth (albeit for some reason I can't understand I am adding on about 12 hours to the trip by flying there via Dubai...)
Tamil Nadu is completely unique, The people are kind and sooooooo hospitable - they will go completely out of their way for a friend or even a confused visitor & their music is definitely unique - tip: Anyone visiting Chennai must bring a new, healthy ipod filled with thousands of western songs or risk suffering an anuerysm caused by hearing the same 3 songs nonstop everywhere you go... The only reason I survived was by singing a compilation of broken Beatles lyrics and 80s Powerballads loudly to myself - it was as if they had never seen someone belting out Aerosmiths 'I don't want to miss a thing' before...
There have been some lows - the hospital, pollution and the withdrawal symptoms from McDonald's, but these were definately beaten 10:1 by the highs! I have had some great times here and i really will miss it... Just yesterday I visited Simiyon's village(Simiyon is one of the guys who run the Gummipoondi boys town and I really shall miss him!) and there we were sitting when one of Simi's friends drove up on a bike and took me back to see his baby boy... He was this tiny little bundle and I found out he was only 2 days old. I asked what his name was and the dad replied 'why don't you name him'...
Instantly my head was full of a dozen different suggestions including (and I'm not proud to admit these) Sonic, Zeus, T-dog or McNugget; but then I realised that the Father was completely serious - he really wanted me, someone he had known for just 10 minutes to name his only child a christian name and wish for him to be healthy. I held back my more immature side and thought deep and in the end christened the boy Paul after my own Dad... Wait a min - does this mean I'm the kids godfather?
Sorry this hasn't been a massive long essay of a post like normal but I have about 30,000 things to do before my flight... I will tell you this quickly though - this is the end of my trip in India but not the end of my blog... the content will completely change, the style will probably change just as much, I will almost certainly be even later in posting stuff up but I shall still be here on this site - until then Bye bye y'all! See you in Oz!!
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Monday, 1 February 2010
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Snakes in a Boys Town
Hi guys and happy Pongal celebrations and a great ‘Indian Republic Day!’
I have just got in from a rather long journey back from one boys town to the other – it is Indian Republic Day and there was a big party… I am now staying (and have been for the past few week) in the country north of Chennai and loving it – the novelty of Indian city life wears off quite quickly and it’s nice not to be surrounded by constant noise, pollution and dirt; the only drawback of my present location is now being surrounded by scores of deadly Cobras, Scorpions and swarms of malarial Mosquitoes…
I am in what is referred to as a forest area, however it in truth is merely a bunch of low bushes (picture the new forest with angry snakes), randomly dotted with villages here and there. The village nearest to me is a lovely little place named Amaranbedu which appears to be almost exclusively populated by old boys of the Rotary boy’s towns. I arrived the day before the four-day Tamil festival of Pongal, celebrating harvest time. At this village there was a party every night containing lots of special events including the climbing of an 8 metre greasy pole, lots of dancing competitions and a really physical game called Cabadi (which appeared to me to be basically British bulldogs without the running –I found it to be strange but good fun when I played it a few days later). There was one event in which I actually took part, before I realised what it was, and that appeared to be the relatively easy task of running, jumping and trying to hit a suspended bag with a stick. Note the fact I say appeared… firstly the bag was moved up by a pulley any time anyone tried (making it near impossible) but most importantly was the fact, of which I was blissfully unaware, that at the moment you jumped to swing your bat you were bombarded by two bucketfuls of water, drenching you and every piece of your clothing to the bone in a matter of milliseconds…
The above mention of dancing is interesting to note as well due to the fact the only dancers for the whole celebration appeared to be male – Due to the societal restrictions on any kind of public female/male intimacy it meant that the boys were all dancing with each other & the girls were in a corner giggling… I say dancing but they weren’t exactly floating round in a graceful waltz or boogieing to a twist – the Tamil village style of dancing appeared to be shaking epileptically to the bongo drum line – and when dancing with two people it was usual to face each other whilst oscillating violently in your own style around the other – it was a seriously weird way of dancing but after watching for a time you got past the initial reaction and it began to look strangely impressive and complex (Even if it did at first appear to be a lost Frankie goes to Hollywood video!).
Another amazing part about the Indian countryside is the country roads – no I don’t mean that they are soft or smooth or lined with wild flowers – the amazing thing is the reduction of traffic on them compared to Chennai city’s mad alleys. They appeared so calm that I decided to learn how to ride a motorbike on them, unfortunately however, as above, appearances were deceptive… the roads may look calm but whilst you are dodging pot holes, trying to out run violent, rabid dogs and dealing with elderly men who think as they are 70 they have earned the right to walk in the centre of the road and will move for nothing despite any build up of traffic (this is the case even if the road is such that it is impossible to drive around them – instead you can easily spend half an hour constantly stalling, driving 2m further and then stopping again wishing an immediate and violently acute heart attack on the old incontinent sadists). However one of the biggest dangers on the road apart from the afore mentioned terrors and of course myself, is the fact that at all time you must be on the look out for any stray buffalos. These creature literally have such a strong death-wish that they pounce out of their fields, generally from behind a large hedge, at any vehicle passing by in the hope it will put them out of its misery (I say its due to an inferiority complex – Indian buffalos are so very nearly cows that they have to put up with being milked, herded and constantly sounding constipated etc. but at the same time not having the satisfaction or excuse of being a worshipped holy animal). Apart from tall this there is something else you should also know about Indian motorbiking it is tremendous exercise – this is due to the fact that generally when Indians buy their fuel they normally only buy a half litre or litre (to put in a tank of normally at least 10 or 12 litres) and as such a 20 min jolly often turns into a 4 hour expedition due to having to push the bike the last 10 kilometres
There was however an even larger problem, I realised as soon as I turned off of one of these small calm looking roads onto a main road, which had by the way decidedly given up the pretence of looking peaceful and easy, and finally I drove along that right until I found out it ran straight onto a national highway was a positive bedlam of speeding trucks carrying gargantuan loads, massive 4x4s cutting you up every five seconds and still somehow omnipresent the odd suicidal buffalo… the problem? During all my focus on the starting and changing up gears I hadn’t ever gotten around to mastering the slowing down part… many shouted instructions and windswept gestures later I managed to slow down and turned round before I hit Calcutta…
I have just got in from a rather long journey back from one boys town to the other – it is Indian Republic Day and there was a big party… I am now staying (and have been for the past few week) in the country north of Chennai and loving it – the novelty of Indian city life wears off quite quickly and it’s nice not to be surrounded by constant noise, pollution and dirt; the only drawback of my present location is now being surrounded by scores of deadly Cobras, Scorpions and swarms of malarial Mosquitoes…
I am in what is referred to as a forest area, however it in truth is merely a bunch of low bushes (picture the new forest with angry snakes), randomly dotted with villages here and there. The village nearest to me is a lovely little place named Amaranbedu which appears to be almost exclusively populated by old boys of the Rotary boy’s towns. I arrived the day before the four-day Tamil festival of Pongal, celebrating harvest time. At this village there was a party every night containing lots of special events including the climbing of an 8 metre greasy pole, lots of dancing competitions and a really physical game called Cabadi (which appeared to me to be basically British bulldogs without the running –I found it to be strange but good fun when I played it a few days later). There was one event in which I actually took part, before I realised what it was, and that appeared to be the relatively easy task of running, jumping and trying to hit a suspended bag with a stick. Note the fact I say appeared… firstly the bag was moved up by a pulley any time anyone tried (making it near impossible) but most importantly was the fact, of which I was blissfully unaware, that at the moment you jumped to swing your bat you were bombarded by two bucketfuls of water, drenching you and every piece of your clothing to the bone in a matter of milliseconds…
The above mention of dancing is interesting to note as well due to the fact the only dancers for the whole celebration appeared to be male – Due to the societal restrictions on any kind of public female/male intimacy it meant that the boys were all dancing with each other & the girls were in a corner giggling… I say dancing but they weren’t exactly floating round in a graceful waltz or boogieing to a twist – the Tamil village style of dancing appeared to be shaking epileptically to the bongo drum line – and when dancing with two people it was usual to face each other whilst oscillating violently in your own style around the other – it was a seriously weird way of dancing but after watching for a time you got past the initial reaction and it began to look strangely impressive and complex (Even if it did at first appear to be a lost Frankie goes to Hollywood video!).
Another amazing part about the Indian countryside is the country roads – no I don’t mean that they are soft or smooth or lined with wild flowers – the amazing thing is the reduction of traffic on them compared to Chennai city’s mad alleys. They appeared so calm that I decided to learn how to ride a motorbike on them, unfortunately however, as above, appearances were deceptive… the roads may look calm but whilst you are dodging pot holes, trying to out run violent, rabid dogs and dealing with elderly men who think as they are 70 they have earned the right to walk in the centre of the road and will move for nothing despite any build up of traffic (this is the case even if the road is such that it is impossible to drive around them – instead you can easily spend half an hour constantly stalling, driving 2m further and then stopping again wishing an immediate and violently acute heart attack on the old incontinent sadists). However one of the biggest dangers on the road apart from the afore mentioned terrors and of course myself, is the fact that at all time you must be on the look out for any stray buffalos. These creature literally have such a strong death-wish that they pounce out of their fields, generally from behind a large hedge, at any vehicle passing by in the hope it will put them out of its misery (I say its due to an inferiority complex – Indian buffalos are so very nearly cows that they have to put up with being milked, herded and constantly sounding constipated etc. but at the same time not having the satisfaction or excuse of being a worshipped holy animal). Apart from tall this there is something else you should also know about Indian motorbiking it is tremendous exercise – this is due to the fact that generally when Indians buy their fuel they normally only buy a half litre or litre (to put in a tank of normally at least 10 or 12 litres) and as such a 20 min jolly often turns into a 4 hour expedition due to having to push the bike the last 10 kilometres
There was however an even larger problem, I realised as soon as I turned off of one of these small calm looking roads onto a main road, which had by the way decidedly given up the pretence of looking peaceful and easy, and finally I drove along that right until I found out it ran straight onto a national highway was a positive bedlam of speeding trucks carrying gargantuan loads, massive 4x4s cutting you up every five seconds and still somehow omnipresent the odd suicidal buffalo… the problem? During all my focus on the starting and changing up gears I hadn’t ever gotten around to mastering the slowing down part… many shouted instructions and windswept gestures later I managed to slow down and turned round before I hit Calcutta…
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
The boys are back in town...
So I have spent quite a while droning on about India’s little quirks and idiosyncrasies that I haven’t really had a chance to talk about the boys town – specifically what makes the boys town tick – the boys who live there. By the way though my title for this post is completely wrong - the boys are just leaving for the hols... oh well its a good song and it sounds nice!
It is an odd bunch of people who live here, each and every one a unique character with their own ways of doing things… whether that is an obsession with cars, marbles or even flared trousers (Although an unhealthy interest in flares isn’t actually unique to one kid, the whole of Chennai are smitten with them – they even make an appearance in the majority of school uniforms). There is even one boy who has been trying every Mission Impossible aerobatic, James bond sleight or Covert-op sneak to try and get past me to grab an extra pack of biscuits from the office – forget not being able to watch BBC, I have my very own ‘Spooks’ right here…
Oops – a toad just leaped into the office and over my foot…
But I digress – the boys’ one overriding interest is cricket, which is brilliant as I can’t stand the game! They play it morning, noon and night – except if its raining, drizzling or even slightly spitting – schools get days off due to rain storms, which despite being labeled monsoons just remind me of a rainy day in England except slightly hotter – nothing really to complain about. I find it funny that if a patch of rain comes along
Back to cricket however as the overriding interest, generally the boys play four games simultaneously in their playground (which isn’t very big) with four rubber cricket balls which tend to accidentally bombard anyone passing by. I still, despite having several attempts at playing the game, cannot see the attraction in standing around for five days hitting a ball with a stick, but they seem to love it…
When not playing cricket typically the boys will play marbles, do their washing or even study. I noticed the concept of studying in India is different from that in the UK – in India when studying they sit on the floor or at a desk and read their books write out class notes in complete silence for many hours on end. In the UK (Note: this is for me at least, and I can admit this only now I have finished my A2s with half decent grades) studying was lying on my bed, watching movies on my laptop whilst trying to psychically absorb the course information from the textbook open on the desk, halfway across the room…
The boys also have a real love for Tamil movies – basically Bollywood but in Tamil – the local language. These are all musicals and really the sole form of entertainment – all of the music they listen to is from their movies (which means you end up hearing the same songs from the latest movie about 20 times a day which drives you mad!) If you turn on a TV you can only really either watch movies or cricket… neither of which I understand! They couldn’t comprehend why when I whacked out the Ipod, before it broke RIP, I didn’t even have a single Tamil song – they completely believe that apart from Michael Jackson, Tamil songs are the only and most famous music in the world! In honor of the ground-breaking Xmas number 1 in the
But the boys are brilliant, intelligent, funny and caring. Every single on of them works harder and is more dedicated to their studies than I ever could be – for a starter their universities don’t have the opposite from the UK culture of drinking, clubbing or partying – they just go to learn, and learn completely sober... One day I tried explaining ‘Fresher’s Week’ to them - they couldn’t grasp it, they were shocked by the idea of people their age drinking. The ethics in
However whilst I make quirky little jokes, there is more... Behind the smiling faces there are children who have known complete abject poverty, children who have lived in slums made from materials salvaged from the rubbish tips. Some of these boys will, at the end of this very week commemorate the anniversary of the great Tsunami that indiscriminately stole their homes, their sibling and their parents. There is even one boy in the project, a boy who dreams of one day working for NASA and reaching the stars, a boy who only survived bone cancer by having his infected leg amputated above the knee; he is now condemned to spend every day hopping around on old crutches because his prosthetic leg gets caught in the bike he has to pedal everyday to school… These boys are incredible, young, vibrant people and they have seen things we cannot imagine, still however they get on with life and strive for more with a cheeky little grin and the odd pinched pack of digestives bikkies…
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