Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Marathi shikane mala garajeche ahe, karana mala Jamkhed madhye maza anu bhavayeche ahe

Learning the language has been invaluable to my enjoyment in Jamkhed. From the start I was dedicated to learning Marathi. Being able to speak Spanish in the U.S. has opened up doors and allowed me to enter a part of America (both North and South) that would otherwise be invisible, especially in the Bronx where over 50% of residents are Latino. Learning a language is more than just acquiring an ability to speak but rather language explains community and tradition that translation cannot convey. How villagers communicate and what words they use to describe situations say a great deal about the values held by that person and in that community.

The first two months in Jamkhed were often spent in the library with Sunil, the fluent-in-English librarian and friend who agreed to teach me Marathi. We went lesson by lesson through a Learning Marathi book, learning vocab and verb tenses to create necessary sentences. At times we sidetracked to the necessary yet inappropriate sentences that for some reason I never had trouble remembering, while “the house is made of wood” never could stick in my mind. My vocabulary grew quickly yet my ability to speak with people and use that vocab in conversation moved unnervingly slow despite my efforts.

Initially I was embarrassed to speak. I thought I had previously overcome embarrassment from speaking Spanish and attempting Chinese. However, struggling through a simple sentence as “I slept well last night” for two minutes with a village health worker staring at you wide-eyed (or at times with a smile she is trying hard to keep down) is difficult. Men, however, were not afraid to laugh and I often felt more relieved with them laughing than with the patience of the VHWs trying to understand me. The embarrassment gradually subsided but my conversation grew equally slow as my vocab continued to improve.

Learning a language seems to be a lesson in overcoming humps. Upon beginning the hypertension and alcohol study in Indiranagar (the slum area across the street from CRHP), I initially went with a social worker named Ratna who translated when I did not understand. Two weeks after beginning the study, however, she could no longer go and I was forced to survey the village with Lalanbai and Asha, two VHWs who spoke zero English. The changeover was the best thing that happened to me. It forced me to speak and get over the fear of speaking not only fluidly but confidently, as the study depended on it. After two weeks of being alone, my Marathi had improved five-fold and I had hurdled the hump. The biggest change has been not in my ability to speak but rather understand. Previously, the accent and quick-speaking scared the hell out of me despite the fact that I knew the vocab. But through continuous conversation their sentences seemed to move slower, not out of their mouths but rather in my mind.

Among the many things Marathi has allowed me to learn, there are a few that stand out in particular. One is the aggressiveness with which Indians speak to each other. There is little politeness in conversations, as questions are screamed at the men and answers are yelled back. Without understanding what is being said, every conversation seems to be an argument when really they may be talking about the effects of high blood pressure. There is also little use of thank you, please, excuse me or I’m sorry in the language. In fact, I have never heard anyone say please in a sentence since I have arrived and an American friend has been told that she should not say thank you so often because “it makes you look weird when no one else says it.”

Another benefit has been the ability to ask follow-up questions. While measuring BPs we have often found ourselves on the floor of straw huts with no electricity and no gas stove. Through conversation initiated from study questions, the lives of the local villagers are elaborated and better understood. One family in particular showed photos of them standing in front of their plastic-covered straw house (plastic from road advertisements to deter rain in the monsoon season), yet they, and their house, were knee-deep in water. They had no where else to sleep, though… “but that is when good work comes,” the father said frankly. Their three daily meals presently consist of Indian flat bread made from sorghum (glutton-free wheat) and chutney, and two meals per week of goat meat.

I am far (very very far) from fluent and often can not hold difficult conversation, but simply being able to continuously speak has not only opened up my world but has shown respect to a community where I am living for one year. Hindi, while perhaps more useful to learn, is not the local language and it does make a large difference to the community whether I choose to speak Hindi or Marathi.

One of my favorite occurrences during the study is when the family I am visiting lays out a floor mat to sit on and I take three minutes to introduce the study, explain its purpose, let them know that I will take their BP first and then ask questions, that their answers are confidential, and that a follow-up will be conducted. After the three minutes, as I unfold the BP cuff to measure, the patient will continue to stare at me and ask “Tumhee Marathi bolata ka?” – “You speak Marathi?” – not because they didn’t understand but rather they couldn’t figure out if I was really speaking Marathi. I have recently begun all conversations with “Me tora Marathi bolato” – “I speak a little Marathi” – yet afterwards and after explaining the study for three minutes, their puzzled face still asks “Tumhee Marathi bolata ka?”… at which point Asha steps in to explain the study.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Auspicious time of the year = A lot of weddings

I entered the massive outdoor auditorium and found myself among three thousand other people, with the women on the right side and the men on the left. This wedding was held in Beed, a town one hour from Jamkhed, and I soon came to understand that most of these guests did not know either family getting married but were either from the same village or they had a friend who was. Celebrating your marriage with as many people as possible is not only good luck for the marriage but is good for status and social clout. Most weddings do not lack for a rise in social standing. The couple was also fortunate to have held their wedding on what was declared an ‘auspicious day’ by the ancient Hindu scripture.


There are many auspicious days in December and when combined with cooler weather it breeds a perfect time for weddings. Since the end of November, I have attended five weddings, four of which were arranged-marriages and of equal caste. In only two of them did I know the bride or groom yet in each, upon entry, I have been escorted to the front of the crowd to sit in chairs designated for the family I did not know or for special guests. My presence as a white person at weddings is an excellent sign of status for the families and often guests watch me rather than the wedding taking place. As the honored guest, I am often swarmed by people wanting to take photos, children wanting to shake my hand, and men with a tad too much to drink who want to test their English. The benefit is that I have an awesome view of the ceremony and am assured that I will be taken care of, in terms of both food and entertainment.


Weddings are typically paid for by the bride and her family, along with the dowry that the bride gives. In order to please the groom and his family, the wedding needs to showcase as much opulence and wealth as possible. Wedding saris (Indian dresses) are pieces of artwork and are inlayed with gold and have incredible stitch work in vibrant reds and blues. The dowry gifts given to the groom are often on display and have included refrigerators, cars, motorcycles, plates and dishes, and pure gold. The dowry also often includes acres of land, animals and houses that are not found at the ceremony. At the nicer weddings, gifts are also provided for each and every guest. Women usually receive a sari (surprisingly one-size-fits-all) where as for men, food and sweets or cloth suffice.


The most exciting thing about the wedding is the food, as each guest is expected to eat until they burst, a luxury also administered by the wife’s family. I have heard that guests attend weddings simply for the food and in the car on the way there people often discuss their excitement and anticipation for the delicious food. The nicer the food and set-up, the wealthier the family. The most high-caste wedding I attended offered a buffet of platters from not only around India but around the world. Tandoori chicken, Malaysian stir fry, Rajasthani snacks, Kashmiri curry, and Italian ice cream & dessert were all at peak freshness. And each guest had a server who carried your plate and walked with you, suggesting the best food and standing next to your table until you were ready for seconds. At a Jain wedding, there was a fruit bar that not only offered fresh fruit but fresh juices. Even at the least-opulent wedding in a local village, each of the thousand guests ate rice, daal, veggies, chapatti and jilebi (sugar-filled jellies) on a banana leaf plate to their heart’s content.


An ultimate show of wealth and tradition is the entry of the groom. At the Jain wedding, the groom arrived on a horse covered in jewelry and fabric. Before entering the hall, first his and then her family blessed him by feeding him, covering him with water and colored paste/powder, and whispering words of blessing in his ear. Simultaneously, a hired band played in front of the horse with men and boys dancing, of which I joined and was taught how to dance in the Maharashtrian way.


What I have yet to observe are the traditions that take place for days before the wedding ceremony. These events are reserved for family and customs vary by caste, religion, state and village. In most Hindu marriages a wedding pole is made and the bride and groom walk around it seven times in a counter-clockwise direction to sanctify the marriage. These poles are fascinating and intricately carved with symbols and stories that mean more than I understand. In some traditions, I have heard that both the bride and groom are forced to sit on stage as family and friends give them a hard time through jokes and make fun of them through stories, similar to the best man grilling the groom in America.


Following the wedding ceremony is a departure party for the bride and her family. Since the bride goes to live with her husband and his family following marriage, it can often be months or years before the daughter sees her family again. This day is often filled with joy and sadness. Yet all these events bring together friends, family, fellow villagers and me in heaps to celebrate the marriage.