To add to Pia's post below, here's a map of Rafi Nagar Dump in Mumbai:
View Larger Map
And here we're being shown around by the Pratham Ward Coordinator Dilshad Khan of the area. This is what it looks like and sounds like at the edge of the dump during the monsoon...
______________________________________________________
www.readindia.org
www.pratham.org.uk
www.prathamusa.org
www.pratham.org
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
...And they're off
After settling in for a couple of days in Delhi, Pushkar and I went to Mumbai for a whirlwind visit. We were in and out in two days. Mumbai seemed to be a logical place for me to start my journey, since it was here that the first Pratham initiatives were originally launched in 1994. We managed to see and do a lot in just two days, but one of the most compelling field visits we made was to the Mohammed Rafi Nagar school, situated on the edge of the Rafi Nagar Dumping Ground. This sprawling landfill site is the main destination for rubbish from all over the city of Mumbai and it is, accordingly, huge. Many of the children living near the dumping ground, venture into it for work. They are rag pickers, trawling through the mountains of trash for scraps of metal, plastic, cloth; rather worryingly some collect medical refuse (which shouldn’t even be there in the first place, but…)
Unsurprisingly, this is one of the toughest areas of Mumbai. The school (the only one in the area) is in poor condition - large puddles yawned across the classroom floors and the walls, once beautifully painted with jungle and farm scenes, were faded and crumbling. Flies swarmed.
[Flies in a school window]
On account of the rain many teachers had not come in that day. Unsupervised pupils were running through the corridor and in and out of the classrooms. In the middle of this, a young Pratham CCP (Community Contact Person) was teaching the Urdu alphabet to a small group of children.
[Teaching Urdu with a magnetic board]
The children were rapt, loudly repeating after the volunteer as she held brightly colored alphabet magnets up against a white board. She was laughing and smiling, encouraging the children to ask questions and match up the magnets with the characters on their reading cards.
Later when we were chatting with her, I was fascinated to hear about the enormous impact Pratham had on her life. It was hard to imagine that the fiery and energetic girl before us had once been too shy to venture into the local market alone. She had passed most of her life in the house and she had never thought about working before Pratham offered her the opportunity. Today, she travels alone on the bus to attend meetings, she socializes independently of her family, and co-ordinates with parents in her local area to make sure attendance rates at school improve. She has decided to work for a few years before getting married, and has convinced her younger sister to study beyond 12th Standard. I started to think about the thousands upon thousands of volunteers all over the country that have been mobilized by Pratham. I wondered: how many other inspirational stories remain untold elsewhere?
______________________________________________________
www.readindia.org
www.pratham.org.uk
www.prathamusa.org
www.pratham.org
Unsurprisingly, this is one of the toughest areas of Mumbai. The school (the only one in the area) is in poor condition - large puddles yawned across the classroom floors and the walls, once beautifully painted with jungle and farm scenes, were faded and crumbling. Flies swarmed.
[Flies in a school window]
On account of the rain many teachers had not come in that day. Unsupervised pupils were running through the corridor and in and out of the classrooms. In the middle of this, a young Pratham CCP (Community Contact Person) was teaching the Urdu alphabet to a small group of children.
[Teaching Urdu with a magnetic board]
The children were rapt, loudly repeating after the volunteer as she held brightly colored alphabet magnets up against a white board. She was laughing and smiling, encouraging the children to ask questions and match up the magnets with the characters on their reading cards.
Later when we were chatting with her, I was fascinated to hear about the enormous impact Pratham had on her life. It was hard to imagine that the fiery and energetic girl before us had once been too shy to venture into the local market alone. She had passed most of her life in the house and she had never thought about working before Pratham offered her the opportunity. Today, she travels alone on the bus to attend meetings, she socializes independently of her family, and co-ordinates with parents in her local area to make sure attendance rates at school improve. She has decided to work for a few years before getting married, and has convinced her younger sister to study beyond 12th Standard. I started to think about the thousands upon thousands of volunteers all over the country that have been mobilized by Pratham. I wondered: how many other inspirational stories remain untold elsewhere?
______________________________________________________
www.readindia.org
www.pratham.org.uk
www.prathamusa.org
www.pratham.org
Monday, July 28, 2008
Introducing Pia Gadkari & Shagun Khare
As my summer travels wind down here in India, I write to introduce you all to Pia Gadkari of Pratham UK and Pratham-ite Shagun Khare who will start blogging for our Pratham blog "Every Child in School and Learning Well."
Pia finished a BA in History from Oxford and has been very involved in fund-raising for Pratham in the UK-- but I'll let her introduce herself fully. (If you're interested you can find pictures of Pia participating in a 10k run in order to raise money for Pratham UK at www.pratham.org.uk. I'd give you the direct link, but I think Pia would hit me if I shared those pictures...)
Shagun finished with a BA in Economics from Shri Ram College of Commerce at Delhi University and is currently enrolled in a Masters program in Quantitative Economics that has her studying all across Europe. In between studying in Germany and Spain she has come back to India for her summer break, and has generously offered to spend it with Pratham documenting the Read India movement. But I'll let her fill in the rest of the details...
______________________________________________________
www.readindia.org
www.pratham.org.uk
www.prathamusa.org
www.pratham.org
Pia finished a BA in History from Oxford and has been very involved in fund-raising for Pratham in the UK-- but I'll let her introduce herself fully. (If you're interested you can find pictures of Pia participating in a 10k run in order to raise money for Pratham UK at www.pratham.org.uk. I'd give you the direct link, but I think Pia would hit me if I shared those pictures...)
Shagun finished with a BA in Economics from Shri Ram College of Commerce at Delhi University and is currently enrolled in a Masters program in Quantitative Economics that has her studying all across Europe. In between studying in Germany and Spain she has come back to India for her summer break, and has generously offered to spend it with Pratham documenting the Read India movement. But I'll let her fill in the rest of the details...
______________________________________________________
www.readindia.org
www.pratham.org.uk
www.prathamusa.org
www.pratham.org
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Updated Map
Where has Pushkar been since June 6, 2008?
Here:
View Larger Map
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Here:
View Larger Map
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Nagaland (continued)
(http://inschoolandlearningwell.blogspot.com/2008/07/nagaland.html)
CONTINUED...
After waiting for about 10 minutes I got a little bit antsy. In the distance I noticed there was one shop still open from where I could pay to call Honang. With my companion still complaining loudly about just waiting for Honang I set off towards the shop. This subdued the still unnamed man in black who followed me.
“Do you see him?” he asked.
I kept walking. From the phone booth I dialed Honang’s number. Ring, ring—beep, beep, beep. The number was busy.
I hung up frustrated, looked around, but still no Honang in sight. I saw lightning flash off in the distance.
“What happened?” He asked.
“It was busy,” I said. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
After a minute of tense silence, I spoke, “How much would it be for you to take an autorickshaw from here to your home.”
“Ehhh… 20-30 Rupees.”
“That’s all?” I thought to myself. I then realized how tight our man’s finances must have been. “Ok, no problem. I’ll pay for it.” This diffused his tension quite a bit, but with a storm brewing in the distance and shady looking men on their Honda Heroes who were becoming more and more curious about our presence, I turned around to try Honang on the payphone again, but found the shop closing.
[A Honda Hero]
The phone was my golden ticket to get me off these Dimapur streets and away from the clutches of John Carpenter's boogey-men floating around in my imagination; I knew I’d have to reach Honang to get out of this situation.
“Sir, I really need to use the phone to call my friend.”
“Just wait, he’ll come meet you soon, I’m sure.”
“No sir, he was supposed to meet me 15 minutes ago (an exaggeration) and I’m not sure where he is.”
“Where are you from?” he asked me.
“Delhi,” I said, trying not to draw any extra attention to myself.
He looked at me for a minute, maybe trying to place my accent. He looked out at the empty streets. And in a moment of generosity (or was it pity?) he took out his own mobile and said “Oh, ok. What is the number?”
I gave the shopkeeper the number and he called Honang. The shopkeeper told Honang where we were (Honang had been waiting at the Stadium; I had gotten impatient and left before he arrived) and a few minutes later he pulled up in front of the shop.
I thanked the shopkeeper for his help and greeted Honang. Honang looked at the man in black, confused. I explained he was a friend and flagged down an autorickshaw. While the man with no name had said the auto ride would only be about 30 Rs., the auto driver said it would be 100 Rs. for the trip.
I thought the man in black might have smoothly baited me into agreeing to pay for his (expensive) ride home, but quickly realized that he had probably never taken an auto home from here and did not know what the cost would be.
So I paid the auto driver and the short man in black jumped into the back seat, smiling for the first time that night. “Thank you, I hope we’ll meet again,” he said.
“Yes, me too… though next time I hope it’ll be during the day.”
The auto took off and I jumped in Honang’s car-- finally safe from barking dogs, shifty-eyed Honda heroes, and my own imagination.
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
CONTINUED...
After waiting for about 10 minutes I got a little bit antsy. In the distance I noticed there was one shop still open from where I could pay to call Honang. With my companion still complaining loudly about just waiting for Honang I set off towards the shop. This subdued the still unnamed man in black who followed me.
“Do you see him?” he asked.
I kept walking. From the phone booth I dialed Honang’s number. Ring, ring—beep, beep, beep. The number was busy.
I hung up frustrated, looked around, but still no Honang in sight. I saw lightning flash off in the distance.
“What happened?” He asked.
“It was busy,” I said. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
After a minute of tense silence, I spoke, “How much would it be for you to take an autorickshaw from here to your home.”
“Ehhh… 20-30 Rupees.”
“That’s all?” I thought to myself. I then realized how tight our man’s finances must have been. “Ok, no problem. I’ll pay for it.” This diffused his tension quite a bit, but with a storm brewing in the distance and shady looking men on their Honda Heroes who were becoming more and more curious about our presence, I turned around to try Honang on the payphone again, but found the shop closing.
[A Honda Hero]
The phone was my golden ticket to get me off these Dimapur streets and away from the clutches of John Carpenter's boogey-men floating around in my imagination; I knew I’d have to reach Honang to get out of this situation.
“Sir, I really need to use the phone to call my friend.”
“Just wait, he’ll come meet you soon, I’m sure.”
“No sir, he was supposed to meet me 15 minutes ago (an exaggeration) and I’m not sure where he is.”
“Where are you from?” he asked me.
“Delhi,” I said, trying not to draw any extra attention to myself.
He looked at me for a minute, maybe trying to place my accent. He looked out at the empty streets. And in a moment of generosity (or was it pity?) he took out his own mobile and said “Oh, ok. What is the number?”
I gave the shopkeeper the number and he called Honang. The shopkeeper told Honang where we were (Honang had been waiting at the Stadium; I had gotten impatient and left before he arrived) and a few minutes later he pulled up in front of the shop.
I thanked the shopkeeper for his help and greeted Honang. Honang looked at the man in black, confused. I explained he was a friend and flagged down an autorickshaw. While the man with no name had said the auto ride would only be about 30 Rs., the auto driver said it would be 100 Rs. for the trip.
I thought the man in black might have smoothly baited me into agreeing to pay for his (expensive) ride home, but quickly realized that he had probably never taken an auto home from here and did not know what the cost would be.
So I paid the auto driver and the short man in black jumped into the back seat, smiling for the first time that night. “Thank you, I hope we’ll meet again,” he said.
“Yes, me too… though next time I hope it’ll be during the day.”
The auto took off and I jumped in Honang’s car-- finally safe from barking dogs, shifty-eyed Honda heroes, and my own imagination.
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Nagaland
Written July 6th
After 7 wonderfully productive (and enjoyable) days in Assam, I was very sad to say goodbye to the first-class staff of Pratham Assam. This morning the State Coordinator, Ashok and I, drove from the heavy tea-growing city of Dibrugarh to the smaller town of Golaghat. In Golaghat he put me on a bus to Dimapur, Nagaland where I would begin a short stay visiting Pratham programs there.
On the 2-hour bus ride I remembered some of the things I had heard about Dimapur. Though it was the business center of Nagaland, it was also supposed to be a pretty forgettable town. Ashok had also mentioned that the town would close at dusk and that I shouldn’t go out alone in the city at night.
When I asked him why not, he told me that after dark there were only drugs, prostitutes, and crime in the streets. I told him that I’d seen too many kids summer camps in Assam and that I wouldn’t mind visiting an “adult summer camp” at night in Dimapur.
He didn’t think that was funny.
In the back row of a rusting, rickety bus, I stared out onto the green fields of Assam. After about half an hour the sun began to set and I realized that I’d arrive in Dimapur after dark.
My mind drifted and I imagined the worst Dimapur might look like at night—dogs howling in the empty streets, all homes and shops shut, while roving bands of prostitutes partied with drug dealers, all to the sounds of vandals smashing cars and lighting trash cans on fire—well, maybe this was a little extreme. I mean this was India not John Carpenter’s Escape from New York (plus there aren’t any trash cans in India…). Debating these thoughts in my head, I soon fell asleep.
[The poster from John Carpenter’s 1971 Escape from New York]
Before leaving me on the bus, Ashok had found a man on the bus that was also going to Dimapur. He introduced me to this Hindi-speaking stranger (in his late twenties, short and dressed in all black) and told me to go with him once I reached Dimapur. An hour later I awoke and noticed we were arriving at the Nagaland border (Dimapur is a border town).
The bus came to a stop and I grabbed my bags. I stepped down onto the side of a dark dusty road that was eerily quiet. I found the man in black Ashok had spoken to waiting impatiently for me. We made eye contact and he briskly started walking away. I jogged to catch up with him and after a couple of questions discovered that the bus did not go directly to Dimapur, but stopped outside the town. I asked the man with no name if he had a mobile phone (because mine wasn’t working… http://inschoolandlearningwell.blogspot.com/2008/06/airtel-nowhere.html) and he tersely replied, “no.” The man in black moved quickly forward, taking the longest strides a short man could. I followed him towards Dimapur town, while keeping my eyes out for trouble.
15 minutes later we came upon a phone booth and I called Honang, a friend and Pratham ASER Associate, who I would be staying with. We agreed to meet at a football pitch on the outskirts of town. I hung up the phone and continued walking with my impatient companion.
We reached the unlit football pitch, and stood outside waiting for Honang. All the shops were closed by this point and the only life on the streets were irritated street dogs looking for a meal and a couple of small groups of men sitting on motorcycles smoking cigarettes, laughing quietly to themselves. A traveler with bags alone with an impatient, short man, I stuck out like a Punjabi in Nagaland (which I was).
“Where is your friend?” asked the stranger in black, I’d met only minutes ago—who was now my only crutch. “I can’t wait here, I have to move.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, trying to stall.
“I live Far away, I’ll reach by 1am.”
“How will you get there.”
He patted his legs, “walking.”
I contemplated a 4-hour walk in these rough conditions and noticed that the motorcycle crew was eyeing me eagerly… I clutched my bags tight, and looked off into the distance for Honang.
TO BE CONTINUED...
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
After 7 wonderfully productive (and enjoyable) days in Assam, I was very sad to say goodbye to the first-class staff of Pratham Assam. This morning the State Coordinator, Ashok and I, drove from the heavy tea-growing city of Dibrugarh to the smaller town of Golaghat. In Golaghat he put me on a bus to Dimapur, Nagaland where I would begin a short stay visiting Pratham programs there.
On the 2-hour bus ride I remembered some of the things I had heard about Dimapur. Though it was the business center of Nagaland, it was also supposed to be a pretty forgettable town. Ashok had also mentioned that the town would close at dusk and that I shouldn’t go out alone in the city at night.
When I asked him why not, he told me that after dark there were only drugs, prostitutes, and crime in the streets. I told him that I’d seen too many kids summer camps in Assam and that I wouldn’t mind visiting an “adult summer camp” at night in Dimapur.
He didn’t think that was funny.
In the back row of a rusting, rickety bus, I stared out onto the green fields of Assam. After about half an hour the sun began to set and I realized that I’d arrive in Dimapur after dark.
My mind drifted and I imagined the worst Dimapur might look like at night—dogs howling in the empty streets, all homes and shops shut, while roving bands of prostitutes partied with drug dealers, all to the sounds of vandals smashing cars and lighting trash cans on fire—well, maybe this was a little extreme. I mean this was India not John Carpenter’s Escape from New York (plus there aren’t any trash cans in India…). Debating these thoughts in my head, I soon fell asleep.
[The poster from John Carpenter’s 1971 Escape from New York]
Before leaving me on the bus, Ashok had found a man on the bus that was also going to Dimapur. He introduced me to this Hindi-speaking stranger (in his late twenties, short and dressed in all black) and told me to go with him once I reached Dimapur. An hour later I awoke and noticed we were arriving at the Nagaland border (Dimapur is a border town).
The bus came to a stop and I grabbed my bags. I stepped down onto the side of a dark dusty road that was eerily quiet. I found the man in black Ashok had spoken to waiting impatiently for me. We made eye contact and he briskly started walking away. I jogged to catch up with him and after a couple of questions discovered that the bus did not go directly to Dimapur, but stopped outside the town. I asked the man with no name if he had a mobile phone (because mine wasn’t working… http://inschoolandlearningwell.blogspot.com/2008/06/airtel-nowhere.html) and he tersely replied, “no.” The man in black moved quickly forward, taking the longest strides a short man could. I followed him towards Dimapur town, while keeping my eyes out for trouble.
15 minutes later we came upon a phone booth and I called Honang, a friend and Pratham ASER Associate, who I would be staying with. We agreed to meet at a football pitch on the outskirts of town. I hung up the phone and continued walking with my impatient companion.
We reached the unlit football pitch, and stood outside waiting for Honang. All the shops were closed by this point and the only life on the streets were irritated street dogs looking for a meal and a couple of small groups of men sitting on motorcycles smoking cigarettes, laughing quietly to themselves. A traveler with bags alone with an impatient, short man, I stuck out like a Punjabi in Nagaland (which I was).
“Where is your friend?” asked the stranger in black, I’d met only minutes ago—who was now my only crutch. “I can’t wait here, I have to move.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, trying to stall.
“I live Far away, I’ll reach by 1am.”
“How will you get there.”
He patted his legs, “walking.”
I contemplated a 4-hour walk in these rough conditions and noticed that the motorcycle crew was eyeing me eagerly… I clutched my bags tight, and looked off into the distance for Honang.
TO BE CONTINUED...
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
The Best Summer Camp in India…at least in my opinion
Written July 3, 2008
Today I saw, without a doubt, the most exciting summer camp in all my travels.
In a village called Morhisha in the major tea-producing District of Dibrugarh, Assam Abhijit, Surjya, Ashok, and I arrived at a school where we saw a large group of children playing in the courtyard. As we approached the children ran inside—it seemed like they did not want us to know they were playing.
This was just the first clue that something unique was going on. After introducing ourselves as the sponsors of the summer camp—and not some rigid government officials, the children went out into the courtyard again. Within moments about 90 children had created a large circle on the veranda, and became spectators for a performance. Without any coaching from the volunteers who ran the camp, 2 boys jumped center stage and began to perform a scene from one of the Pratham picture story cards.
Moments later 3 other boys jumped onto the stage and performed another scene
And after that 2 girls performed a well-rehearsed bharatnatyam dance.
And after that a girl stood up and sang a song… then another girl recited a poem…
I had seen students recite poems and songs in summer camps and classrooms before, but I always felt like those students were being put on display to impress us. What was different here was the way the students themselves were engaging their own creativity and expressing themselves for the pure enjoyment of it. And the enormous class size (again about 90) demonstrated that the students loved it.
One of Pratham’s main objectives of holding summer camps has been to create a lively, fun atmosphere where students would enjoy themselves (in turn generating strong attendance from children) while they developed their reading, writing, and math skills. In all my travels—from Punjab to Gujarat to here—this camp was the first one to unquestionably reach this goal, and it was only 3 days into the one-month long summer camp.
[Kids in the Morhisha summer camp]
After spending almost 45 minutes with the children, I wanted to see who was responsible for this wonderful work. So I introduced myself to Padma Das, a petite and gregarious woman in her early-forties, with 2 children attending the camp. I asked her how many volunteers there were, and she introduced me to 4 other women.
[The Morhisha summer camp volunteers with Ashok, Abhijit, me, and Surjya]
Padma said that they were long-time friends who all had grown up in Morhisha and were looking for a way to boost education in the community. “When we met the Pratham Block Coordinator at a Gram Sabha meeting, we liked the idea of a summer camp,” she said. “When we found out that the local government education officer was not going to open up the school for the summer camp, we went to his office and convinced him to allow us to use these grounds.”
A child walked by and showed Surjya a color drawing he had made. Surjya commended the child on his picture, and Padma told me that the following week a professional visual artist would be coming in to teach the children to draw.
[Kids in the Morhisha summer camp drawing]
At that point I asked, "Why are you running the summer camp?" and Padma replied, "Because we love our children and they need it. And even if Pratham doesn't help us, we'll do it again next summer-- no one can stop us."
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Today I saw, without a doubt, the most exciting summer camp in all my travels.
In a village called Morhisha in the major tea-producing District of Dibrugarh, Assam Abhijit, Surjya, Ashok, and I arrived at a school where we saw a large group of children playing in the courtyard. As we approached the children ran inside—it seemed like they did not want us to know they were playing.
This was just the first clue that something unique was going on. After introducing ourselves as the sponsors of the summer camp—and not some rigid government officials, the children went out into the courtyard again. Within moments about 90 children had created a large circle on the veranda, and became spectators for a performance. Without any coaching from the volunteers who ran the camp, 2 boys jumped center stage and began to perform a scene from one of the Pratham picture story cards.
Moments later 3 other boys jumped onto the stage and performed another scene
And after that 2 girls performed a well-rehearsed bharatnatyam dance.
And after that a girl stood up and sang a song… then another girl recited a poem…
I had seen students recite poems and songs in summer camps and classrooms before, but I always felt like those students were being put on display to impress us. What was different here was the way the students themselves were engaging their own creativity and expressing themselves for the pure enjoyment of it. And the enormous class size (again about 90) demonstrated that the students loved it.
One of Pratham’s main objectives of holding summer camps has been to create a lively, fun atmosphere where students would enjoy themselves (in turn generating strong attendance from children) while they developed their reading, writing, and math skills. In all my travels—from Punjab to Gujarat to here—this camp was the first one to unquestionably reach this goal, and it was only 3 days into the one-month long summer camp.
[Kids in the Morhisha summer camp]
After spending almost 45 minutes with the children, I wanted to see who was responsible for this wonderful work. So I introduced myself to Padma Das, a petite and gregarious woman in her early-forties, with 2 children attending the camp. I asked her how many volunteers there were, and she introduced me to 4 other women.
[The Morhisha summer camp volunteers with Ashok, Abhijit, me, and Surjya]
Padma said that they were long-time friends who all had grown up in Morhisha and were looking for a way to boost education in the community. “When we met the Pratham Block Coordinator at a Gram Sabha meeting, we liked the idea of a summer camp,” she said. “When we found out that the local government education officer was not going to open up the school for the summer camp, we went to his office and convinced him to allow us to use these grounds.”
A child walked by and showed Surjya a color drawing he had made. Surjya commended the child on his picture, and Padma told me that the following week a professional visual artist would be coming in to teach the children to draw.
[Kids in the Morhisha summer camp drawing]
At that point I asked, "Why are you running the summer camp?" and Padma replied, "Because we love our children and they need it. And even if Pratham doesn't help us, we'll do it again next summer-- no one can stop us."
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Friday, July 4, 2008
Flooding in Guwahati
The following video clip depicts the results of heavy rains in Guwahati in early July 2008. While in many areas Guwahati has very deep gutter-systems in place to swallow these rains, these gutters often fill up with rainwater which then carries the sewage in the gutters into the streets.
In order to document this unsanitary flooding for you, the blog-reading public, I ventured out into the flooded streets to have lunch at a cafe close to the Pratham office in Guwahati.
What follows is a brief video documentation of my trip to and from said cafe.
Video Breakdown:
-Leaving the office (against the suggestions of my colleagues)
-Walking to the cafe (with my colleagues watching from above)
-Watching life underwater on R.G. Baruah Road, from the dry island of the cafe
-My favorite part of the clip: 1 minute 10 seconds in
-Returning back to the office (a little smarter this time)
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
In order to document this unsanitary flooding for you, the blog-reading public, I ventured out into the flooded streets to have lunch at a cafe close to the Pratham office in Guwahati.
What follows is a brief video documentation of my trip to and from said cafe.
Video Breakdown:
-Leaving the office (against the suggestions of my colleagues)
-Walking to the cafe (with my colleagues watching from above)
-Watching life underwater on R.G. Baruah Road, from the dry island of the cafe
-My favorite part of the clip: 1 minute 10 seconds in
-Returning back to the office (a little smarter this time)
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
It’s Hard Out Here to Be a Pratham Coordinator
Four of us left Guwahati last night for 2 Districts in eastern Assam, Golaghat and Dibrugarh. Ashok (the well-educated, Pratham veteran, now State Coordinator), Abhijit (the deeply focused, former-student activist), Surjya (Abhijit’s young, thoughtful, smiley sidekick), and me (the clueless Indian-American with a camera) rode together with our pleasant, musician-in-his-heart-but-currently-employed-as-a-driver, Rabha.
Though I thought I would just fall asleep on the overnight ride, it was such a fun, interesting group I was happy to stay up and talk. One of the first questions I asked as we rode through the dark, winding roads surrounded by deep-green tea gardens, was about insurgent groups in Assam. I got a long, complicated answer which Ashok ended with “just look it up on Wikipedia…” I then asked about a bombing I had read about in The Assam Tribune that morning—
“What was that bombing about?”
I was brushed off, “Oh just insurgents groups killing innocent people for attention.”
“Oh… where was it?”
“In Nagaon District.”
“Where is Nagaon District?”
“We’re driving through it now.”
At that point I stopped asking questions…
Around 5:00 AM Ashok and I arrived in Golaghat District. We met Bhupin, the District Coordinator, who showed us a room in his home. We went to sleep then, but at about 7:00 AM I woke up when I heard Ashok on the phone.
“Sorry to wake you, Pushkar, but it was important: one of our District Coordinators was just attacked by a jackal.”
“What?”
“Well it seems that a jackal wandered into his house and when they saw each other both of them got very scared. The jackal attacked our District Coordinator and cut up his face, hands, and stomach—but he’s ok now, he’s in the hospital getting stitches.”
Fortunately this seemed to be an isolated, fluke incident. But unfortunately jackals aren’t the only ones picking on Pratham Coordinators.
[Derhasat Brahma, Pratham Block Coordinator]
In Kokrajhar District, I learned of the story of Derhasat Brahma, a Pratham Block Coordinator who visited the Sarpanch (village mayor) in the village of Gomabil on May 21st in order to try to get support for a Pratham summer camp in the village. After having a relatively productive meeting, Derhasat rode his bike back to his home in another village.
Just as he was getting to his front door, he was approached by 2 men who asked him for identification. It turns out that these men were from the National Democratic Front of Bodoland (NDFB) and that Gomabil village was in NDFB territory. The men suspected Derhasat of “spying” on NDFB activities for a rival organization under the cover of Pratham. After trying to confirm Derhasat’s identity, the NDFB men took him to a NDFB office and with a group of others interrogated him.
After 4 hours, the NDFB guys finally let Derhasat go. Derhasat said although it was a very intimidating atmosphere, the men were actually pretty kind.
Since then, the Pratham District Coordinators in Kokrajhar have announced to key government— and non-government officials— that Pratham will be hosting camps in Kokrajhar, in order to avoid these kind of problems in the future.
At the end of my conversation I asked Derhasat if he would go back again to Gomabil. His answer? “Yes, I have to go back there—it’s my job.”
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Though I thought I would just fall asleep on the overnight ride, it was such a fun, interesting group I was happy to stay up and talk. One of the first questions I asked as we rode through the dark, winding roads surrounded by deep-green tea gardens, was about insurgent groups in Assam. I got a long, complicated answer which Ashok ended with “just look it up on Wikipedia…” I then asked about a bombing I had read about in The Assam Tribune that morning—
“What was that bombing about?”
I was brushed off, “Oh just insurgents groups killing innocent people for attention.”
“Oh… where was it?”
“In Nagaon District.”
“Where is Nagaon District?”
“We’re driving through it now.”
At that point I stopped asking questions…
Around 5:00 AM Ashok and I arrived in Golaghat District. We met Bhupin, the District Coordinator, who showed us a room in his home. We went to sleep then, but at about 7:00 AM I woke up when I heard Ashok on the phone.
“Sorry to wake you, Pushkar, but it was important: one of our District Coordinators was just attacked by a jackal.”
“What?”
“Well it seems that a jackal wandered into his house and when they saw each other both of them got very scared. The jackal attacked our District Coordinator and cut up his face, hands, and stomach—but he’s ok now, he’s in the hospital getting stitches.”
Fortunately this seemed to be an isolated, fluke incident. But unfortunately jackals aren’t the only ones picking on Pratham Coordinators.
[Derhasat Brahma, Pratham Block Coordinator]
In Kokrajhar District, I learned of the story of Derhasat Brahma, a Pratham Block Coordinator who visited the Sarpanch (village mayor) in the village of Gomabil on May 21st in order to try to get support for a Pratham summer camp in the village. After having a relatively productive meeting, Derhasat rode his bike back to his home in another village.
Just as he was getting to his front door, he was approached by 2 men who asked him for identification. It turns out that these men were from the National Democratic Front of Bodoland (NDFB) and that Gomabil village was in NDFB territory. The men suspected Derhasat of “spying” on NDFB activities for a rival organization under the cover of Pratham. After trying to confirm Derhasat’s identity, the NDFB men took him to a NDFB office and with a group of others interrogated him.
After 4 hours, the NDFB guys finally let Derhasat go. Derhasat said although it was a very intimidating atmosphere, the men were actually pretty kind.
Since then, the Pratham District Coordinators in Kokrajhar have announced to key government— and non-government officials— that Pratham will be hosting camps in Kokrajhar, in order to avoid these kind of problems in the future.
At the end of my conversation I asked Derhasat if he would go back again to Gomabil. His answer? “Yes, I have to go back there—it’s my job.”
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
First Day of Summer Camps in Assam
I met the Kampur District Coordinator this morning for breakfast at about 8:30am. Since today was the first day of summer camps in Assam, he was a busy, nervous, and taking a number of phone calls during the meal. At about 9am he picked up a 5th phone call, spoke in Assamese (which I don't understand), then looked at me and said:
“A camp is now starting, Pushkar, please say some inspirational words to them.”*
He then handed me the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sir! We have you on speakerphone and are waiting for something inspirational. Please share!”
These are the kind of things I fall into on some days.
After imparting concise world-class wisdom and philosophical force (not really), we finished up with breakfast (which was excellent-- go to Maharaja Dhaba in Kampur if you can) and then moved on to see the start of summer camps in Assam.
On the first day of every summer camp across the country, teachers are expected to do “baseline” tests to determine what level of comprehension their students are at. Please see the brief video clip below to watch baseline testing in Assam.
*For the record, I’m fairly positive Pranav passed me the phone not because he thought I was inspirational, but just because he didn’t want to do it himself…
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
“A camp is now starting, Pushkar, please say some inspirational words to them.”*
He then handed me the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sir! We have you on speakerphone and are waiting for something inspirational. Please share!”
These are the kind of things I fall into on some days.
After imparting concise world-class wisdom and philosophical force (not really), we finished up with breakfast (which was excellent-- go to Maharaja Dhaba in Kampur if you can) and then moved on to see the start of summer camps in Assam.
On the first day of every summer camp across the country, teachers are expected to do “baseline” tests to determine what level of comprehension their students are at. Please see the brief video clip below to watch baseline testing in Assam.
*For the record, I’m fairly positive Pranav passed me the phone not because he thought I was inspirational, but just because he didn’t want to do it himself…
______________________________________________________
www.pratham.org
www.readindia.org
www.prathamusa.org
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