The Colby Echo

Issue date: 2/9/07 Section: Opinions

Media Credit: Suzanne Merkelson

I spent January at the Gandhi Ashram, a school in Kalimpong, which is in northern India, near Nepal. I went with a group of about 30 Colby students; we taught mostly English and music. Of course, I'm writing my first column of the semester about this experience. How could I not? While I know I have a lot to say about my time in India, I still don't really know what to say.

"How was India?" It's tempting to answer that question with an enthusiastic "Awesome!" (coupled with the requisite, corny tourist thumbs-up I adopted somewhere between Darjeeling and the Taj Mahal), but that would be a lie. Sure, parts of my time in India were awesome. Parts of it were also really, really difficult. I've resorted to: "India was...crazy?...interesting?...crazy?" But even that doesn't begin to cover it all.

Furthermore, I know this was a life-changing experience (as all such "experiences" tend to be, right?), but I don't really know how yet. I got home less than two weeks ago. Certainly, parts of me have been changed; which ones or how so remains up to debate. In the immediate aftermath, maybe after hanging out with kids who had so little, I have less desires to go shopping; maybe after bathing out of a bucket for a few weeks, I now take shorter showers. However, I'm still not really sure how my perception of the world, of the United States, of Colby, of myself has been altered.

Back to my original dilemma-this column. I guess I don't really need to make some grand statement about the month. I could write about anything really-poverty; India as a developing nation; that million-dollar word "globalization"; tourism; education; how happy most of the Ashram students are, despite a lack of videogames and cellphones (instead, they make do with marbles and sliding down hills on wooden planks). Still, "How?" is never answered.
Another question then, maybe an easier one. "What did you do in India?"

I spent every morning with 30-ish third graders, who spoke minimal English (although it was most of their second or third language). I guess you could say I taught them-most now know the difference between verbs ("A for add!") and adjectives ("B for big!"). I rode a yak (which sounds way more hardcore than it actually was). I drank millet at my friend Zokim's home, and discussed homosexuality, his and my future, and love. I drank chai at my friend Sujita's house and discussed Bollywood soap operas and saris.

I did the Macarena with a bunch of teenage boys. I couldn't look a beggar in the eye. I played games with fifth graders to explain predator-prey relationships (and received a note thanking me "for teaching how animals die"). I forgot to take my malaria medicine, and figured I really didn't need it anyway. I learned how to barter with vendors over pashmina. I rode in a taxi decorated with G-Unit bumper stickers. I visited monasteries, mosques, and temples. I went to my first ever Catholic Mass (entirely in Nepali). I froze my ass off watching the sun rise over the Himalayas. I took some pictures at the Taj Mahal. I blogged. I ate a lot of momos.

So that's some of what I did in India. The personal and cultural implications behind it all can't really be discussed here or right now. Ask me later; maybe I'll have figured it all out.

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