DAKSHINAYAN BLOG
Hi Everyone,
OK, I'll be the second to write! I will summarize my experience and try to answer the kinds of questions I had in my mind
My name is Yvonne, and I stayed at the Roldih Ashram of Dakshinayan in September, 2008. I was the only volunteer during that month. I am originally from Chicago, Illinois, in the United States, but now live and work 9 months out of the year in Phoenix, Arizona, as a Registered Nurse in solid organ transplantation. So I came as a volunteer without any formal educator background, but still found teaching the children basic English, math, and science very easy and very rewarding. It's an overused cliche, but I gained far more than I gave while there. I am most grateful for the basic understanding I gained of rural India, its peoples, its resources, its challenges.
The peace and quiet of the Roldih ashram is in stark contrast to the chaos and cacophony of Kolkata. Most volunteers reach Roldih after an overnight bus trip from Kolkata (Calcutta) in West Bengal. This bus trip is an experience in itself, suffice it to say. Loud Bollywood music is the soundtrack for the steamy trip, and the bus is loaded with people, some even sleeping on ledges over the seats--a real Indian experience. The bus travels into the state of Jharkhand, west of West Bengal, into the small town of Godda. From Godda, we catch a taxi prearranged by Siddharth, and travel to get clearance from two police stations before arriving at the rural ashram several hours later. Along the way, we pass rolling fields of rice paddies, fruit trees, and palms, passing by the small villages, most without electricity. The long trip is your transition, through both time and culture. I arrived at the brick-walled ashram with only a back pack and was prepared for the lack of electricity and running water. Going slow with the food, eating small amounts only for the first few days, helped me acclimate without any GI issues. Following the sun was the rule; when it set, so did we, and when it rose, we said good morning along with it. This is beautiful for the body and mind! The diet was simple, vegetarian, local.
The children would be convening outside the gates before school even started. They looked prim in their bright yellow shirts and blue shorts, and lined up in such a disciplined fashion for morning assembly I could hardly believe my eyes! I mainly worked with the children in Class I, and they were a joy--very bright and full of energy as children should be. Early on we worked out a system that when I raised my pointer finger in the air, this meant "Choop!" or quiet down. We fell into a routine of doing some "speak easy" kind of exercises in the morning after roll call--using words to discuss the weather, the position of the sun or clouds in the sky, the number of kids absent that day, and the resultant total present. Thus we easily incorporated some informal, practical math and English into the formal lesson plan. The children loved being called on to answer questions and write answers/work equations on the board, so I tried to keep the classes interactive and participatory to hold their attention. This seemed to work. We played color games, "math contest," and had a weekly spelling test in addition to the text books. We meshed art and science together for a project when the children selected their own leaves to examine and sketch in detail. It was really very fun. I found the teacher in myself!
I spent my afternoons reading, doing laps around the ashram, yoga, trying to talk with Bansi and Suman, the ashram cook and caretaker (Suman was very keen to learn English and eager to teach me Hindi words), meditating at Baba's Temple, and visiting the cows and goats in the field. I would also do some lesson preparation for the next day. There was always some tidying up to do as well. Bathing takes on new intention without a shower or bath; we would pump our own bucket of water, carry it into the "bathroom" and use a metal bowl to pour water over ourselves for a rinse after a refreshing lather. It was very hot and humid during the day at that time. Clothes were handwashed at the pump and hung to dry in the afternoon sun. I did make the trek to Cheo village with Chandrma (sp?) on a Sunday. He was such an angel. Torrential rain started pouring down soon after we left, and by the time we arrived we had rain in our bone marrow. I would not recommend that hike during the rain! Some dark evenings while dinner was cooking over hot coals, I would sit on the steps of Baba's Temple and see the milky band of the Milky Way in the pitch black sky, foregrounded by the twinkles of fire flies high in the palms. Sometimes Suman would join me on the steps and we would hum "Ommmmm" together in long exhalations. It was perfect.
During the time I was there, Siddharth was very quiet, which I resented. Honestly, he acted like a cranky old man, which I didn't understand because he has obviously put in an enormous amount of work and devotion, which only a passionate human can do. So I knew there was a lively gent in their somewhere! But we have since talked about this and worked it out. He explained that it is hard for him to get close to any volunteers knowing they will be leaving in a few short weeks, and in the end he is not there to entertain. I do wish he would have shared more of himself, the language, and rich local and project history. Traveling solo, I felt very alone at times and in retrospect would have benefitted from a English-speaking companion. But it is what it is. It sounds now that village visits have become the norm, which sounds like a win-win for all. I was invited to a local village by Parvati, one of the little girls from Class II one Sunday, and this was an incredible, enlightening experience. It was literally like living the pages of National Geographic. I will post some photos!
I did meet Manami from Japan in Kolkata before I left for the project, and on the way back I briefly shared a taxi with Franca from Spain in Godda when she was coming and I was going. I felt an immediate closeness to both of these kind ladies, and I know the project was very fond of them too.
Dakshinayan's Roldih Ashram is very special place, kind of a holy place to me. As Siddharth says, the modern world is advancing, and these village and tribal people will have to be able to navigate, negotiate, and advocate for themselves when that time comes. The Dakshinayan Roldih ashram is a place where life is scaled back to is most bare, and the focus is on the children and building a place which can support India's future. This is good business for the soul, from wherever you have roamed.
Dakshinayan's Roldih Ashram is very special place, kind of a holy place to me. As Siddharth says, the modern world is advancing, and these village and tribal people will have to be able to navigate, negotiate, and advocate for themselves when that time comes. The Dakshinayan Roldih ashram is a place where life is scaled back to is most bare, and the focus is on the children and building a place which can support India's future. This is good business for the soul, from wherever you have roamed.
If any perspective volunteers have questions, I'd be happy to answer them as best I can. My name is Yvonne Novak Matz and I can be E-mailed at YNovakMatz@gmail.com
</div><div>CLICK on the pics for close-ups: Morning assembly with Bansi (left), Siddharth (center), and Mitali (right) standing on the steps of Baba's Temple. The children line up in such straight lines, counting off one by one as they exit for class. Guruji Siddharth makes the morning announcements, and together everyone sings the Indian national anthem, which I still hum to myself today. Mitali is a great lady who lives in Kolkata and volunteers at the project. She's the "city liaison" for the project.</div><div>
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</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59C4IQ5rv2GNMfzeX0NghX9QvDUWhiNWGQYK5pof7sRfibabVfHIaJW_ZvYnuqVqetIdsVAQ8jOvCSmkmsnfJZSzKcYQ5DdN00yxGJSFX4tq7IawE8PgQDgW4YyhdcA1mFHMX0XrZ6gw/s1600-h/PICT4064.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59C4IQ5rv2GNMfzeX0NghX9QvDUWhiNWGQYK5pof7sRfibabVfHIaJW_ZvYnuqVqetIdsVAQ8jOvCSmkmsnfJZSzKcYQ5DdN00yxGJSFX4tq7IawE8PgQDgW4YyhdcA1mFHMX0XrZ6gw/s320/PICT4064.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320930219403586770" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
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</div><div>Suman (left) and Bansi (right) in the kitchen. Suman is the cook/caretaker on the project at the kitchen table. Bansi is also a caretaker and teacher. I told Bansi he reminded me of an Indian Jamie Foxx (a big film star in the US), but I think this was lost on him! Our diet consisted mainly of rice, potatoes, legumes, root vegetables, pickled fruit/vegetables. Remember, no refrigerators! There is a weekly run to a local market.</div><div>
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</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-Gk6TeYguZ_guFj_n-ZR9FxAWvEsyvVlW6byLkgxSjqm1xgaNhT4SRaxp9zBTsBvyOCZn_6ChTMfGB3IiN1bvZZzgTD5DT26HgiWe7ym3MAxAqueS38Zk1NFAughwdHES-zOdJV3qwY/s1600-h/PICT4043.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-Gk6TeYguZ_guFj_n-ZR9FxAWvEsyvVlW6byLkgxSjqm1xgaNhT4SRaxp9zBTsBvyOCZn_6ChTMfGB3IiN1bvZZzgTD5DT26HgiWe7ym3MAxAqueS38Zk1NFAughwdHES-zOdJV3qwY/s320/PICT4043.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320931229691930050" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
</div><div>A nice shot of two of the project structures, from the top of a granite outcrop on the project. These buildings were being whitewashed before I left, so it's even prettier. The volunteers sleep in the rooms, or on the veranda where the night breeze can be enjoyed. You can see the wooden beds moved into the courtyard the day--it was still sweltering during the day, so this was an attempt to catch any breeze! In close up, you can see Siddharth cooling off. The very old banyan tree is in the background; the hand pump well was behind it. After I left, Western toilets were added to the "bathroom," and not a moment too soon according to my behind!</div><div>
</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aN8GQLM4x3fGTbv4QgDYp6MYKwaWE2Q3M4pez2KrsRUHpez0uDO4oDSpvK8vVruwuN8epIihZO-oiPkOkZTNum7vcpHva6VnYizh9vFQs1bZRjztr2VH08RyrcyvJKYsfM4iG1eSHoo/s1600-h/PICT4087.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aN8GQLM4x3fGTbv4QgDYp6MYKwaWE2Q3M4pez2KrsRUHpez0uDO4oDSpvK8vVruwuN8epIihZO-oiPkOkZTNum7vcpHva6VnYizh9vFQs1bZRjztr2VH08RyrcyvJKYsfM4iG1eSHoo/s320/PICT4087.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320932802043857506" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
</div><div>A picture of the kids in the classroom, all natural light. The subsequent whitewashing has brightened everything quite a bit. The desks/benches were all handmade by local woodworkers. Note the umbrellas hanging on the windows. Some of these kids walk in the barefoot miles to school. The floors were a clay/dung mix, easily kept clean with daily sweeping. </div><div>
</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXPvqr1h04Yh5vSAHES8Cx-y3VGZM510wUghwfNP4TPbkWX1yKV1zkp15h0U4miEysxHkpZmKv2FA_D9OO7GWLvaVZQwN7ACQ1IffZ3S5AJ6pIxLHZILhJl-X7sHWk-0DQi4BdvYQyfk/s1600-h/PICT4118.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXPvqr1h04Yh5vSAHES8Cx-y3VGZM510wUghwfNP4TPbkWX1yKV1zkp15h0U4miEysxHkpZmKv2FA_D9OO7GWLvaVZQwN7ACQ1IffZ3S5AJ6pIxLHZILhJl-X7sHWk-0DQi4BdvYQyfk/s320/PICT4118.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320933623905426578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
</div><div>This is Parvati, one of the girls from Class II, leading me down the road to her village. This was an incredible experience, like a walk back in time. The animals would frequently be herded by the ashram on their way to grazing. Cows are natural lawn mowers and fertilizers, and in India are revered as a person's "second mother," as Bansi told me.</div><div>
</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAtbzNqk7nyS2nm5TijNUE96e2CoV0fbM_nqkQzr_QY8kdD-v9cK7ccperuPCotD0QjTlMi32MM7YQqY4ZIX0EwvEtRW9i1fIpYEzm17lUpFqFO2w_IkX8X-T8ecQ2ArtJ5nWHlrAoU0/s1600-h/PICT4129.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAtbzNqk7nyS2nm5TijNUE96e2CoV0fbM_nqkQzr_QY8kdD-v9cK7ccperuPCotD0QjTlMi32MM7YQqY4ZIX0EwvEtRW9i1fIpYEzm17lUpFqFO2w_IkX8X-T8ecQ2ArtJ5nWHlrAoU0/s320/PICT4129.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320934368812174514" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
</div><div>Here I am with the villagers. They were slow to warm up to me initially, but then Parvati's mom came out with a cup of warm tea and biscuits. As I left, one of the ladies picked three ears of corn and gave them to me as a gift. That corn was a delicacy when Suman roasted it! Charred and sprinkled with salt crystals...mmm mmm!</div><div>
</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1ieW16tWrKkRzansifHjKP2ik1swRqmWtvHmpCaMzpuWvLteHR4E8rKCOqJwSdcbhP1LChqcCRQ5FbJ88ODAzi4JgarvPhdYsF6g1pbFpiW4BmDuMkZm__ry7PdcwxvRtO_-kRTMSTY/s1600-h/PICT4148.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1ieW16tWrKkRzansifHjKP2ik1swRqmWtvHmpCaMzpuWvLteHR4E8rKCOqJwSdcbhP1LChqcCRQ5FbJ88ODAzi4JgarvPhdYsF6g1pbFpiW4BmDuMkZm__ry7PdcwxvRtO_-kRTMSTY/s320/PICT4148.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320962782335003234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSNSFKbgOB8czhbyBCvOB_duHaO0akAuXGSr6DhHnA6706ml_2iszOEubjLUskwKdZVuCklBoKEIMtLcC_Mida84366DlCMwN4d_c7mmUBNytWPwzuwE5Jfni5rZOmUI1VRmawVAcz9k/s1600-h/PICT4099.JPG"></a></div><div>Chandrma, in the jungle hills on our the way to Cheo. These are some wild mushrooms we picked and wrapped in banana leaves. </div><div>
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</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSNSFKbgOB8czhbyBCvOB_duHaO0akAuXGSr6DhHnA6706ml_2iszOEubjLUskwKdZVuCklBoKEIMtLcC_Mida84366DlCMwN4d_c7mmUBNytWPwzuwE5Jfni5rZOmUI1VRmawVAcz9k/s1600-h/PICT4099.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSNSFKbgOB8czhbyBCvOB_duHaO0akAuXGSr6DhHnA6706ml_2iszOEubjLUskwKdZVuCklBoKEIMtLcC_Mida84366DlCMwN4d_c7mmUBNytWPwzuwE5Jfni5rZOmUI1VRmawVAcz9k/s320/PICT4099.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320935097896301234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
</div><div>Brushing teeth. The locals would simply break a small branch off the neem tree for natural antimicrobial action. </div><div>
</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhbA8LvecugJh4-7sAEDgktugjLdU5Q7daoyO3uD3SRkQzkRvCNpfmwOb0WTfDs_0Rh8PbBolGYUaH1Y3KSkVn066ZwOkC_OpHAKanMXtngO0D6FHTzdZ6tsiqITDrYdicdWIvMMYPH0/s1600-h/PICT4157.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhbA8LvecugJh4-7sAEDgktugjLdU5Q7daoyO3uD3SRkQzkRvCNpfmwOb0WTfDs_0Rh8PbBolGYUaH1Y3KSkVn066ZwOkC_OpHAKanMXtngO0D6FHTzdZ6tsiqITDrYdicdWIvMMYPH0/s320/PICT4157.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320935567658848818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
</div><div>On the steps of Baba's temple in the morning before school. I knew I had made progress with the kids when Pushpa taught me to count to twenty in Hindi, then she said, "Ms. Novak, you test Monday!" They would hold me accountable for learning as well! Saraswati and Sunita liked to braid my hair in the mornings. All of the children had some special quality. </div><div>
</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhroS81u8XakUrZX-tTROYhXapsXvZIppur5Vtt3phtr80JL6xqPJd4bORtslcR4Yq6r6GNsozdnkKrZ8CungXxuwKeLeNzEITAUKy8trSuYWwNExn5vf4FnD-86a75dLDgFk6n05H-fwg/s1600-h/PICT4040.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhroS81u8XakUrZX-tTROYhXapsXvZIppur5Vtt3phtr80JL6xqPJd4bORtslcR4Yq6r6GNsozdnkKrZ8CungXxuwKeLeNzEITAUKy8trSuYWwNExn5vf4FnD-86a75dLDgFk6n05H-fwg/s320/PICT4040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320936683278647618" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a>
</div><div>This is a picture looking east from the ashram. You can see the rolling terrain, neem and fruit trees, and beautiful rainbow in the sky. The Cheo village is about 12 miles, on top of the hills in the background.</div><div>
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