Out of the Sand and into the Mold!

Leigh and I have left the beaches and are currently back in Rajakkad working furiously with HPWDS to finish our work.
We stopped in Ernakulam/Kochi on our way back “home”, and spend an unanticipated extra day there. The computer power available is shockingly poor and so the simple task of “just printing the diary” and going to Rajakkad, became a 6 hour ordeal that did not end all that happily. The computers here could not handle the file size of the powerpoint with the whole ILS diary on it. The printer rejected the idea of graphics and made weird whining noises and the staff made get out noises. They informed us our printing project was tying up their single main computer and would be please just accept that it could not be printed. Except, this IS THE PROJECT! The diary is what we came here to do, it’s what we finished on the beach, it’s our baby, and without it printed, well . . . let’s just not think that way. Long story short; we used Leigh’s computer to convert files, my computer to save things separately, and their computer to open earlier drafted diary pages and print them in a readable, but incorrect format. Oofta. I’ll admit, I was not a pretty sight in the hotel that night, it kind of undid me. Everything seemed backwards, nothing was efficient, nothing was built with the future in mind and, most importantly, I felt like I did not have control over anything! The stress of India had built up, and I was a sticky puddle on the floor.
I have recovered some measure of sanity (whatever was there previously, we shall not debate this subject). Since arriving back in Rajakkad I have been kept busy battling a full mold invasion and acting as professional trainer to HPWDS staff.
When we opened the door to our concrete apartment the mold practically took human form and waved. I’ve never seen anything like it. Most surfaces were covered with a white fuzz, certain items had changed color entirely; a massive inspection was launched. The whole evening we spent quarantining items, treating those that were treatable, and giving a good mopping to those with more common cases.
The following day was, I think, the first truly “successful” day at the office. It was a thrill to train and present information you’ve tailored for someone and find out that they thought it was relevant and that you communicated it clearly. In fact over lunch, one of the employees actually told me, “You have very good English, your pronunciation is very clear, very understandable”. It took me a minute to understand what he was getting at, I thought it odd that a Malayalum speaker should compliment me on my native language skills, but then I understood. It was such a successful day, hooray!
Now, Leigh and I are in uber crunch mode trying to prioritize the minimum amount of training for proper implementation of ILS into an organization’s programs. We have spent an hour discussing it and planning the rest of our days (until Aug. 8th), and have worked ourselves into a perfect frenzy. I can’t say if it will all work or not, but we’ll simply have to do what we can. In some ways I think it’s funny that we continue, despite all previous experience up until this point, to furiously plan, plan, plan. We have a schedule. We have set expectations about how the next few days will happen. There’s a voice in my quietly saying, “Ehem, aren’t you in India?” But, hey, American future orientation, planning and my own control freakishness are hard to shake. What can I say?

In the evenings we have spent dinner with our neighbor Komala. Do you remember her? The older, somewhat bossy, but ultimately motherly woman that lives across the hall with her niece? Well, she came over and I showed her the fancy sari that I bought for the first formal I have at home. I need her to make the proper undergarments for me—turns out she is a tailor. She wrapped me up properly in the sari and I’m nearly certain I have little hope of repeating any similar action in the United States. The amount of fabric involved in a single sari is incredible! It’s at about a yard wide and probably a dozen yards long. How women learn to tie one by themselves without the aid of an entourage is well beyond me. Komala has also been cooking with us in the evening, so we learn to cook Indian food and get a good meal. We bring the ingredients and she supplies the kitchen tools and know-how. It’s a good arrangement, although a bit more time-consuming than Leigh and I and our American ways would prefer given the amount of work we still have left. It’s an example of the domestic economy that is never accounted for, period, but especially in developing countries. It take soooo long to have safe water, grow food, find food, cook food, wash clothing, wring clothing, dry clothing in the rain, fight the mold, bathe with any sort of frequency, clean the bathroom, kill the roaches/millipedes/meal worms/ants etc. the list could be endless. All the simple daily tasks that we do without thinking, take an enormous amount of time and effort. It sounds trite, but I will be so appreciative of all the “modern conveniences” we take for granted on a daily basis.

Lastly, while we were trying to work on Sunday (our day off), our door bell kept ringing crazily. The kids of the neighborhood were coming in groups to our door so they could meet us and giggle. It was adorable, if not distracting. Some of the kids were so shy they could just peek at us from under the stairs. It’s so funny being such an attraction, the giggling we inspire is really quite spectacular.