By scarsonnn
Suddenly, Rupali halted and peered up at me over her glasses as we sat in the dingy office. "You are comfortable teaching in the slum school, correct?" She seemed to be sizing me up, her suddenly steely gaze challenging me, expecting a typical foreigner's reflexive shudder at the mention of slums. Comfortable... an interesting word choice, to say the least, and certainly not a word that I would automatically associate with Delhi. Overwhelmed in every way, from the billowing blanket of smog that hangs over the cityscape to the unbelievable kindness and generosity that I have experienced? Absolutely. Claustrophobic, as anyone would feel with this many people packed into such a small area? Always. But comfortable... not exactly.
In fact, the beauty of India is the way it constantly surprises, challenges, and pushes me to break free of my comfort zone. And now, in posing this question, my volunteer supervisor at Sshristi, the small NGO I will be serving with during my time in India, whips out yet more of the unexpected (pretty much the norm so far in India). Ssrishti is an amazing organization, and has an impressive influence in fulfilling its mission of providing education to slum children. Part of the reason I selected this particular NGO was that I was confident that my previous experience teaching English in a small rural Thai school had prepared me well for anything I would face doing the same job in India... But now, within minutes of my very first day of work, my volunteer placement abruptly U-turns from instructing children at one of their two schools near the main office (located near a slum but certainly not inside of one) to this other proposition... And there Rupali is, with that quizzical eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer, looking me straight in the eyes. Knowing that the language barrier would never allow for me to appropriately express my concerns and reservations, the words are out of my mouth before I have any chance weigh pros and cons... "Of course," even managing to muster a tense smile. The tone in my voice was one of steely resolve to combat that steely glaze of hers, although inside my nerves may or may not have been more similar to aluminum, if anything as strong as metal at all... But Rupali nodded approvingly. Apparently my feigned attempt at confidence fooled her.
Next thing I know, I'm being ushered by Rupali to jump in what looks like an extended rickshaw to go to the Jai Hind camp, Sshrishti's closest slum outpost. Though there are seats meant to fit four, there are already eight people in the car, and I'm forced to plop myself on top of some poor unknown woman (not the first time that's happened in India). Soon, the vehicle stops, and we are at the gate. And then there is no turning back. Surreal cannot even begin to describe my emotions as we stepped beyond the yellow gate on to a sloping hill, cleared of any vegetation or buildings, but instead piled with soiled and putrid trash and rubble of all types. Goats, dogs, hogs, and other creatures roamed freely, but there were no people to be seen yet. We begin walking on a faint path slightly less strewn with garbage through the maze of trash and I see two small children, one only half-clothed and both covered in filth, playing in the muck, grinning ear to ear and giggling as they fished god knows what out of the puddle.. As we rounded the corner, the shelters were visible, as well as a small shed where I breathed a sigh of semi-relief as I recognized the Sshrishti logo.
When I entered, I could immediately sense that, for these children, this room was a kind of sanctuary, a safe place for them, although the floors were still dirt, the walls were still made of cardboard, and it was barely half the size of a typical 2-person dormitory room at GW. There I met Pooja, one of the two teachers who work full time at this site. Although my plan was initially to just observe the classroom practices for the first day, I soon confirmed my general intuition that planning ahead of time in India is often fruitless, as more and more obstructions often arise. Since the school's other teacher was sick today, I soon realized that Pooja needed my help to keep the group of 20 3-7 year olds busy, while she attempted to continue her lesson with the 15 older students. We practiced the alphabet and even exchanged some nursery rhymes, including I'm a Little Tea Pot (complete with hand motions, obviously). The children, in what seemed to be a blissful ignorance of their incredibly disadvantaged situation (this slum is almost entirely refugees from Bangladesh), were joyful, exuberant, and enthusiastic, and completely adorable. I melted. I then helped Pooja serve them a lunch of paneer and rice, with a glass of milk, which for many would be their only nutrition for the day. On my way out, I received some confused but not unwelcoming nods from some of the older slum-dwellers, as a small flock of little boys escorted me back to that yellow gate.
I still am somewhat in shock about the events of today. My host mom, always worried about my safety, has encouraged me to talk to my Service Learning teacher about this placement and see if I can work (or at least start out) in one of Sshrishti's more standard-style schools instead of diving in to such an extreme site, which seems to make sense. However, although my first impressions of Jai Hind were not exactly what I had envisioned when entering my school, working with refugee children and stepping foot in a slum are things I have always imagined myself doing as part of my work in development. I am so thankful that my Service Learning class also has a classroom component, where we are encouraged to reflect and talk through any difficulties at our sites. This week I will continue to consider Rupali's challenge and try to find out if I really am ready for such an extreme environment. I am comforted by the fact that many previous students have served at Sshrishti, and the certainty that no matter what I do, I will absolutely be working toward an important mission of helping street children stay in school instead of resorting to begging, drug addiction, and many other common alternatives in the slums.