Winter Fairness Cream

Made by Vaseline. One of dozens of skin bleaching products filling many shelves in the supermarket. The commercial for Winter Fairness Cream on t.v. wasn’t in English, not exactly, but is fully understandable: pretty young woman looking dejected in her family home, where mom and dad are smiling about her “model contract”, but she got the contract with pictures when her skin was lighter (dark shadow passes over her face) and the happy solution is “Winter Fairness Cream” (shadow diminishes stage by stage) leaving her practically as pale as me, except of course no disfiguring freckles.
Oddly, after a long search of those same supermarket shelves, I find there is only one choice of sun screen, “Lakme Ultra Matte, super light sunscreen, insta [sic] oil absorb complex” [huh?] SPF 30. Further reading of the package turns up several typos, and the explanation that unlike most sunscreens, this one absorbs excess oil from the skin surface, “leaving your face matte and shine-free” and “…not feeling oily and sticky”. Hmmm, never believe anything until it’s officially denied: I’ve just opened the tube, put it on my arm, and it’s the stickiest stuff! Ick! At least it only cost $2, for 50 grams. And smells vaguely like something I’ve eaten recently. Made by Hindustan Unilever. Gotta go wash my hands before I gum up the keyboard.

Clothing

Owning very few things for hot weather, I arrived with only 3 outfits and a plan to shop for clothing immediately. Right near my house is “Eve’s Era”, women’s clothing emporium. Nothing ready-made is big enough in the shoulders and chest (a surprise, since the affluent women are very busty, pot-bellied, and definitely bigger than me, but they wear saris mostly, not salwars). So I buy a set of material to take to the tailor for “stitching”: custom made salwar kameez – tunic top down to mid-thigh, many choices of neckline, baloony pants with draw-string closure, fitted at the ankle, in contrasting or complimentary color and pattern, never the two pieces the same, and a large shawl that matches both parts. Went downtown to the enormous store full of these sets of fabric, and saris, and various combinations I don’t understand, in cottons, polys, silks and blends, some fabulously expensive ($500+ for exquisite silk saris). I’ve been twice now, bought 7 sets, all light-weight cotton, taken them to the tailor right by my office, who does a fine job. Total cost of final outfit around $15. No use for the shawls, though, because they make an otherwise rather cool outfit rather suffocating. And the fitted ankle is great in the bathrooms – the trousers don’t fall onto the always-wet floors, whether clean or not. All that water slopping about because of the different personal hygiene practices. More on that some other time, perhaps.

Mediation Centre Inauguration

On Monday, after I gave a 3 day mediation training, People’s Watch inaugurated its Mediation Centre – a major project they’ve been wanting to launch for some time – with a top justice of the Tamil Nadu High Court coming to cut the ribbon. To my surprise I was a star participant – the American lawyer with 35 years’ experience, come to train the Indian human rights advocates, so appreciated, etc etc. The ceremony started a mere 50 minutes late, considered basically on time, with all of us milling about while we waited for the judges to appear. Little pots of ground sandalwood and poppy petals for putting bindi spots on the forehead are part of the ceremony preparation. So sure, put one on my forehead too, especially after being told the sandalwood is cooling, which it is. The judges arrived, cut the ribbon, the important people went into the director’s office for cake, sweet tea, a tour of the offices, then to the auditorium sort of place with everyone there for the speeches, two hours of Tamil, including many mentions of “Madam Laura” (or just plain “Madam”) including Madam presenting Justice Akbar Ali (a lovely man) with a gift. So here I’m posting 2 photos of me – at the cake moment (I passed on the cake, drank the tea), and just after the gift giving. See the bindi, see the outfit. See the next post about the clothing.

Divorce

My first mediation training turned up a big surprise for me. Twenty eight lawyers, some with 15 – 20 years experience, only a couple with any experience of mediation in any regard, got thoroughly hung up in a “Matrimonial Dispute” problem I set. I chose this subject because I’d learned in my visit to the Tamil Nadu High Court Mediation & Conciliation Centre (established in 2006; the first of its kind in the country) in Madras (now called Chennai) that the vast majority of matters they handle are “matrimonial”. The given facts were a husband and wife are divorcing after 18 years of marriage. Both want the divorce. Both want custody of their 2 teenage daughters, who refuse to choose between the parents. They own some good property; the husband had a good job for the first ten years, then had an injury and hasn’t worked for 8 years. The wife became a lawyer while the husband still worked. He hopes for $1,000,000 from the injury (someday, given the average of 25 years for resolution of such a case). The wife’s family gave a big (illegal) dowry at the start. What are the issues to settle in the mediation? It was obvious to me that custody and property were the answer, with some subtlety being thrown in by the fact of contingent compensation in the distant future and the dowry in the distant past. Boy was I wrong! Everyone said the issue was “reunion” – reconciliation of the couple. Everyone KNEW that property was no problem, the wife would walk away with nothing, not an issue, only the imperative to make them not divorce. I repeated several times “Look at the facts given: they both want the divorce; they both are adamant that they will not stay married. Probe them about the property; draw them out about the welfare of the children in the custody discussion.” (Two participants were acting as the couple, doing a decent acting job.) Most people could not do it; to the very end, after agreements were reached about the property division and custody/visitation arrangements, (largely achieved by the actors without mediator help) the people playing mediator were literally saying to the couple “I do not approve of divorce; you should stay together, you do not need to live apart.” We had talked about how mediators need to be aware of their biases, so I finally interjected that there was a big bias in the room, against divorce, against the given fact which the couple brought to them, that they wanted this divorce. Made no difference; the men all agreed trying to get them to stay together was what they should do. Two of the four women present seemed to get it, that the couple gets to make this decision. In further discussion, they repeated how much it was wrong to divorce and argued with me about the welfare of the children, etc. etc. and could not get off the dime. And p.s. they were right that the wife gave up all property rights just so she could get away from the husband. And p.p.s. after an agreement was written, the husband started to sing to the wife and she changed her mind, and they reconciled. I’m not in Kansas any more, much less California!
And they pronounce it “DIworce”, confusing me at first that they were saying “diverse”. One man started to adopt my pronunciation; he’ll have an American accent before I leave.

My Ahkah

The lovely woman who is my host, in our front room where I sit and read directly under the ceiling fan.  We call each other "ahkah" - sister.

No Juries

India eliminated all juries in 1955. The criminal lawyer who told me this, a senior advocate by title and a man with two Mont Blanc pens in his pocket, explained that it was preferable to have judges decide cases where it was necessary to apply a statute, because non-lawyers would never be able to understand written laws. He asserted that in my country we apply the common law, which was appropriate for the common man to apply, and therefore US juries make sense. I was so open-mouthed, I didn't correct him.
He also is very proud of the Indian Penal Code, a slim volume (he gave me a copy) not much changed from when it was written in 1860 by Lord Macaulay, who Mr. Lawyer Sir admires. Apparently he is unaware of Lord Macaulay's disdain for India and Indians: Macaulay wrote that the entire body of Indian literature and philosophy was not worth a single bookshelf of western writing. (Churchill, who was stationed here in the 1890's, said India was "a beastly country with a beastly religion", and "no more a country than the equator".)
The average length of time to resolve a case in court is about 20 years. The oldest pending case, not yet gone to trial, is 60 years old; the next oldest is 50 years. My host family's 19 year old son was run over when he was 4 and unconscious for 3 days. The case is still pending; their lawyer says "What's your hurry, we'll get money in 10 years, for his wedding." I told them to insist he take the case to mediation, and the big revelation for them was when I said "He's your servant; you're the master. Insist." Premie, the mom, said "Really?? With this knowledge, now I can talk to him without being afraid. This is such a new idea!" I said that if the case is resolved while I'm in India, I will have achieved something amazing.

Elephants

In Menakshi Temple, give him a coin, he sucks it up and taps your head in blessing.

High Court Library

No computers, shelves full of books from the 1940s, pre-statehood.

Food

The food is delicious and keeps giving me indigestion. I get lunch at work, and have a heap of lime pickle with the various unidentifiable but tasty mishmashes offered, and have decided that’s the source of the post-lunch agitator in my stomach, so today I will try to hold off. At home, my host, “sister” (pictured posted today) is an excellent cook, with the only flaw being her wish for me to eat as if I were a 16 year old boy – mountains of food, which I am assured is eaten by others after I leave it in the serving dishes. It’s very impolite to put food on your actual plate and leave that behind, so I’m alert to putting my hands over the plate before she can dole out more. She wags her head (a practice I am adopting to be more understood, I imagine) and says “Eat eat eat ahkah [sister], good good good.” “Too much ahkah”, I reply. “No no no, you are too thin, eat eat eat.” Damn, I’m finally a size I like and they all think I must be poor because I’m not nearly fleshy enough. She and her daughter are quite plump, especially big bellies, of which they are very proud. Proves they are rather affluent, which they are, with the two sons in the US, probably sending home pots of money.
I’ve only eaten in one restaurant so far, where there was a basic meal for Rs 15 (about 30 cents) all you can eat, served on a banana leaf. See the photo also posted today. Delicious!

White Skin Privilege

The crowds in the store stare at the towering white lady wearing a big brimmed hat, and as I move down the packed aisles, they make way with palpable deference. Mothers shove their children aside, saying something sharp sounding; the children look up and seem amazed at the sight. Brave schoolgirls (maybe ten years old) rush over to shake my hand, always saying the same thing: “Hello what is your name which place are you from?” without taking a breath. “USA”, I say, never mind about the name, they laugh and run away.
All the people are very dark and all the images in ads, on billboards, in the shops, and certainly on tv are very white, even being fair haired. In the toy store (air conditioning break on my walk) all the dolls are white and I ask the young saleswoman if they have any with dark skin. Her English is ok but she is mystified by the question, can’t believe she understands, so gets the manager (a bit lighter-skinned than average) and I ask again: “Any dolls with dark skin? You know, dolls that look like people, not mythical creatures (what else is Barbie, after all?)?” He wags his head, purses his lips thinking, finds some little rubber novelty figures with dark skin, and explains “No, this is all. People prefer white.” I reply “Well, maybe the grown-ups do, but the children…it would be good for them to have dolls that look like them, don’t you think?” (As if he could disagree with me. Ha!) “Oh well madam, oh well, so sorry, this is all we have.” “Tell the buyer he should try to find some dark skinned dolls.” “Sure sure good idea.” Ha!

The Weather

The heat is something else; I'll start to sweat as I dry myself after my shower at like 6 am. I can feel the difference between the wet and the sweat and then scurry off to my air conditioned room, where the contrast makes it way cold, so there's a little dance of stepping out of the sauna, back into the fridge and back and forth and putting on one piece of clothing after another, taking it off,too hot, too cold, then, for a moment, just right. Go for a walk at 7 am, it should be some sort of mild, right? Wrong. Blazing sun, makes my skin prickle instantly. I cross and re-cross the street, seeking the shade, but this requires serious alertness because of the crazy driving, including they are on the wrong side of the road (why they hold on to so much British legacy is supposedly Nehru's fault, but more on that some other time). Mustn't step into the path of a bus in an effort to be more comfortable.

English?

"Conscientizing" = making people conscious, as e.g. "Conscientizing the community about human rights is the mission of the education department."
On t.v. this morning I watched several news programs I had a hard time following - not just accents, things like stressing a different syllable, such as "The US wants to dump its haZARdous waste in India." Some toxic ship they want to dismantle here instead of there.
And at the office, oh dear, I'll have to concentrate very hard with some speakers.

Arrived

I'm sitting in my office at my desk, with my laptop all set up, the air conditioning blasting away, with my headphones on listening to WWOZ (my New Orleans radio station) and feeling very happy indeed. The room has 10 desks (and ten people) but I've just been told I'll be moved upstairs to a more prestigious group, all women. Don't know what that means, but ok, fine, I'm very tractable.
Last night I went to the famous temple which is quite amazingly fabulous and which I will post photos of later today when I have my camera with me. One thing I saw which I couldn't take a picture of was a group of people prostrated in front of an altar covered in flaming butter. Sellers offer pots of butter for this purpose, but my home-stay hosts couldn't explain it to me because they are Christians and know very little about Hindu practice, generally scorning it as "idol worship". Their home is full of Jesus pictures, including having provided my room with a rosary, though they are not Catholic. They are an older woman (67) with whom I live and her daughter (45) next door, who has another home-stayer, a nice young man (20) Ari, from Portland who goes to Whittier College and is here on an exchange program and has been a great help in orienting me immediately. He has dreads, wears a man-skirt most of the time and generally feels very familiar. More later.

A Place to Live and a Plan for Work

They've found me a place to live, with air conditioning and its own place to cook, but with full board too. About $177 a month for lodging and meals, ten minute walk to the office, "very fine" they say. ("They" are the people I will be working with at the human rights organization in Madurai.) They also seem to have scheduled a 6 day training for me to give to lots of staff just ten days after I arrive. Sure, why not, I've got a 2 page outline we could spend weeks on.

In the Beginning

Going away for five months is complicated. There's all the business things to cover - musn't fail to pay my property taxes, but much more mysterious is what to bring for being in a place and living a life I can't imagine, no matter how many pictures and descriptions I see on-line and people I talk to who've done it themselves.
I'll do what? Teach mediation skills to Indian lawyers - lawyers who do human rights advocacy. Sounds straightforward, sort of, but everything I imagine about it brings me to a complete puzzlement. Who would be the neutral in an Indian mediation? How does caste figure into it? I know it figures in, but haven't a clue how.
And how will I function in a place where the weather is like "85 feels like 91" all the time? Madurai is in the far south and never gets cool, just less hot. Does it ever get less humid? don't know, I'm counting on the air conditioning to smooth it all out.
What will be the hardest thing, I'm guessing, will be waiting - waiting while things are late: offices opening hours after the posted times, trains, buses, planes, inevitable delays. And maybe the crowding...