I have been doing quite a bit of walking during my few days here in Madurai, and given that I have only seen perhaps a handful of other "white people" since I have been here, and given that this town has a population of roughly 3 million, I have actually turned quite a few heads walking the dusty streets. And, this is the paradox. The fact that I turn heads is absurd when you see what I have seen during these walks, but it shows the unmistakable and undeniable power of perception and what we are used to. Because, what one is used to seeing on the streets of Madurai is hardly "normal," but when that is your "normal," seeing a six-foot 190-lb. white guy walking the streets might as well be like seeing a ghost.
The other day on one of my walks, I was going down one of the typically unpaved side roads and was taking in the various sights of neighborhood street life, when I came upon a very large pile of excrement, the source unknown as it seemed to be quite a bit and might have been a reserve dumped out. Meanwhile, kids are running around happily in the street, barefooted as is the norm here for most people, and various animals such as goats, chickens, and cows are walking along as well. Perfectly normal.
Three blocks down or so, I turned onto one of the more major streets leading to the temple area and there was a religious procession in progress. On that day, across India, statues of various deities are brought out on hand-pulled carts and smothered in the most amazing smelling flowers and shrouded in clouds of divine-smelling incense, while they are lead to the river, or ocean depending on the city's water proximity, and the images are launched out in the water to be "drowned" to the Sea to begin the festival. The procession is very colorful, replete with chanting and music and flowers are strewn everywhere, literally blanketing the streets with their petals and their aroma. It was indeed intoxicating after the scents of the less-than-desirous odors from just a few streets before.
But, neither of these two sights nor smells is out of the ordinary here. That is truly what you see and smell everyday. Near the school were I work there is a row of shops which only sell these massive garlands of flowers and large globs of incense paste for people going to the temples. It is on an incredible busy and polluted road, so when you walk away from the stalls, that is what you smell, yet when you are close by, it is bliss. That is the experiences that I have had here, one moment the shock of the poverty, the next moment some of the most "beautiful" sensory experiences that I have encountered.
I have not been able to take pictures yet. It is an odd feeling, but one that I think happens when you are confronted with such a disjunct of your own reality. I saw an old man, probably about 80 or so, sleeping on a rusted out bed-frame that was more or less in the middle of a trash heap, in rush-hour traffic, but there he was sleeping. I had my camera, but I was not able to comprehend taking a picture of this scene. The sounds, the smells, the surrounding piles of shit and blankets of flowers were not there in the picture, it wasn't the whole scene. There is no way to capture that. Although I know that I will eventually take pictures, for now, I am mostly at a loss for even words, something that I consider to be my profession, so yes, India challenges you to your core.
I saw on the CNN website a photo special on the "trash land of Mozambique." Before coming to India, I would have read that article quite differently. The author said that he has met some of the best people ever who literally live at the dump. The pictures show them smiling in the most absurd situations. The smell of the place is not possible to describe, nor can you hear the noises. I have smelled that smell now, and seen people on such trash heaps, and guess what, they are indeed smiling. I cannot begin to explain how mind-boggling that is.
It is a mistake to make the ideological leap that "poor people are happier" or "poverty makes people better," for that is just not true. But, I have already met many people that seem to be quite happy and they have absolutely nothing. The house that I am staying in is quite nice for these standards, but is surrounded by poverty-stricken homes. The doors of our house aren't locked most of the time. I was walking up here to the Internet Cafe just now and there was a "block party" going on in one of the houses. They had been cooking in the streets all day and the smells were amazing and there was laughter and singing in the air. As I walked by, the kids were all playing games and the families were involved in quite a bit of mirth and chatter. None of these homes even have furniture, (except for the ever-present TV, more on that later), but there was joy. And yet, two days ago, in the same street there was a major, hour-long argument amongst the same ladies of the street, with much screeching and yelling, dogs barking, children crying. So, no, poverty doesn't make people "better," but I have seen amazing triumphs of finding what is good in life, the blankets of flowers, in spite of and in the midst of the unavoidable piles of shit.
The other day on one of my walks, I was going down one of the typically unpaved side roads and was taking in the various sights of neighborhood street life, when I came upon a very large pile of excrement, the source unknown as it seemed to be quite a bit and might have been a reserve dumped out. Meanwhile, kids are running around happily in the street, barefooted as is the norm here for most people, and various animals such as goats, chickens, and cows are walking along as well. Perfectly normal.
Three blocks down or so, I turned onto one of the more major streets leading to the temple area and there was a religious procession in progress. On that day, across India, statues of various deities are brought out on hand-pulled carts and smothered in the most amazing smelling flowers and shrouded in clouds of divine-smelling incense, while they are lead to the river, or ocean depending on the city's water proximity, and the images are launched out in the water to be "drowned" to the Sea to begin the festival. The procession is very colorful, replete with chanting and music and flowers are strewn everywhere, literally blanketing the streets with their petals and their aroma. It was indeed intoxicating after the scents of the less-than-desirous odors from just a few streets before.
But, neither of these two sights nor smells is out of the ordinary here. That is truly what you see and smell everyday. Near the school were I work there is a row of shops which only sell these massive garlands of flowers and large globs of incense paste for people going to the temples. It is on an incredible busy and polluted road, so when you walk away from the stalls, that is what you smell, yet when you are close by, it is bliss. That is the experiences that I have had here, one moment the shock of the poverty, the next moment some of the most "beautiful" sensory experiences that I have encountered.
I have not been able to take pictures yet. It is an odd feeling, but one that I think happens when you are confronted with such a disjunct of your own reality. I saw an old man, probably about 80 or so, sleeping on a rusted out bed-frame that was more or less in the middle of a trash heap, in rush-hour traffic, but there he was sleeping. I had my camera, but I was not able to comprehend taking a picture of this scene. The sounds, the smells, the surrounding piles of shit and blankets of flowers were not there in the picture, it wasn't the whole scene. There is no way to capture that. Although I know that I will eventually take pictures, for now, I am mostly at a loss for even words, something that I consider to be my profession, so yes, India challenges you to your core.
I saw on the CNN website a photo special on the "trash land of Mozambique." Before coming to India, I would have read that article quite differently. The author said that he has met some of the best people ever who literally live at the dump. The pictures show them smiling in the most absurd situations. The smell of the place is not possible to describe, nor can you hear the noises. I have smelled that smell now, and seen people on such trash heaps, and guess what, they are indeed smiling. I cannot begin to explain how mind-boggling that is.
It is a mistake to make the ideological leap that "poor people are happier" or "poverty makes people better," for that is just not true. But, I have already met many people that seem to be quite happy and they have absolutely nothing. The house that I am staying in is quite nice for these standards, but is surrounded by poverty-stricken homes. The doors of our house aren't locked most of the time. I was walking up here to the Internet Cafe just now and there was a "block party" going on in one of the houses. They had been cooking in the streets all day and the smells were amazing and there was laughter and singing in the air. As I walked by, the kids were all playing games and the families were involved in quite a bit of mirth and chatter. None of these homes even have furniture, (except for the ever-present TV, more on that later), but there was joy. And yet, two days ago, in the same street there was a major, hour-long argument amongst the same ladies of the street, with much screeching and yelling, dogs barking, children crying. So, no, poverty doesn't make people "better," but I have seen amazing triumphs of finding what is good in life, the blankets of flowers, in spite of and in the midst of the unavoidable piles of shit.
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