So on Wednesday, Urvashi needed to go to the village school,
Vidyasthali, to meet with some parents
who are local mango farmers and some business professors from the University of Lucknow.
They are trying to organize a collective between the farmers and also have
the older students get involved in order to learn more about the business side
of mango farming. Their hope is to not
only empower the farmers and make their business’ more efficient, but also
encourage students to consider the family business as a career versus something
they need to “escape.” They need to think outside the box with mangoes in a
sense because the crop only lasts for a couple of months, and the product
doesn’t have a very long shelf life.
Also so many mangoes are produced in such a short amount of time the
need isn’t there and so that gives the farmers even less of a bargaining
edge. Wow, I really wish I had paid more
attention/taken economics so I could actually use the appropriate vocabulary
when talking about all this. Basically
mango farmers, despite producing the most delicious fruit by far, aren’t in a
cash crop business.
Back to school, so I hitched a ride with Urvashi to check
out the school. Vidyasthali or the village school is about a 45 minute
drive outside the center of Lucknow. It is essentially situated in the middle of a
mango grove. The mango trees, laden with
fruit, create a beautiful canopied drive up to the school. The initial part of the drive there was most
interesting. On our way we went through
the “old” part of Lucknow. The side streets are small enough only for
pedal rickshaws. There are fruit vendors
lining the streets, people carrying goods on donkeys, and every now and again a
cell phone store. (India truly is
a land of contradictions). Most of the
buildings are falling apart but some of the intricate Islamic architecture
remains. Spots of blue and burnt sienna stucco with the most beautiful detail
carved into the frames shine bright through the decay. Urvashi was telling me that for such a poor
country Indians are generally happy. For
example, the girls from Prerna have almost nothing, from an American viewpoint,
to be thankful for. They get beaten by
their fathers, they have little or no food to eat, and yet I have never seen
one of them look sad or downtrodden.
Sharp contrast to some of the underprivileged American youth I work with
in Brooklyn.
Every Indian I have met has been
most welcoming and truly excited to share whatever they can with you. So the problem, Urvashi, says, is not
innovation or spirit but organization.
“They just can’t seem to get it together.”
Past the herds of water buffalo, tiny huts in one of which
looked to me like a man was getting a shave, and mango trees lies the village
school. The students were even more
friendly than the students at Study Hall.
The Class IX students took me to their class on break and pummeled me
with questions about New York. They were eager to hear about the big city,
which doesn’t surprise me considering most of them come from 38 surrounding villages
and it takes some at least one hour just to get to school. I then “taught” a couple of the lower level
classes, which was most difficult seeing as the students literally speak no
English, so I use the term taught very loosely. We’ll work it out somehow I suppose—miming,
puppetry, whatever it takes! Then I
chatted with some of the teachers, I also use the term chat loosely because it
was mainly me trying to piece together what they were saying in Hindi. Luckily Indians gesticulate a lot, and throw in
a few English words here and there, so I wasn’t at a complete loss. And so
after a long day, it was with an armful of mangoes and well wishes that we made
our way back to the center of Lucknow,
tired and ready for some ahms (mangoes).
I’ll be working at the school two days a week (Monday and Tuesday) and
getting my fill of mangoes! I have to
say Indian mangoes are by far the most delicious mangoes I have ever
eaten! I will be spoiled rotten when it
comes to mangoes from now on. J
I know women in India seems to be a running theme, but I just can’t help it!
The classes were evenly split between boys and girls from Class I
through Class V, but as the students get older the amount of girls in those
classes decreased dramatically. Class X
for example, only had one or two girls.
In a state where the Prime Minister is a woman it is interesting how
devalued the average woman in Lucknow
appears to be, food for thought. . .
