An Adventure in Catholicism

Last week we had our Mid-Semester break; a five-day vacation in which the AIIS students could go wherever we like. After considering Bombay, I decided I would take the shorter and more relaxing trip to nearby Ft. Kochi with one of my classmates, Julia. She directed a short documentary last summer about the fishermen at the Chinese nets there and wanted to show them the finished product. She also wanted to get some footage for her research, and I was happy to refresh my video skills and assist her.

The focus for her Ph.D. is on the Catholic Charismatic movement in Kerala, and one of her sites of research is Ft. Kochi and a nearby Catholic retreat center. Needless to say, it was an adventure in itself just to get to the place. Julia’s enormous equipment pack in-tow, complete with tripod jutting out the side, we hopped on a bus from Ft. Kochi to Ernakulam, then overpaid an auto to take us to the state bus stand, then got another bus to this gigantic retreat center in the middle of nowhere. We came to the front desk of the Malayalam center, only to be directed across the busy highway to the “English/Hindi Camp.” Of courseit was raining and we had only one umbrella. I tried my best to keep the equipment pack underneath it, leaving Julia and I in the dampness.

The camp was enormous. As we walked into the entrance, there was 3-story high statue of Mary holding the lifeless Jesus next to a mural of Christ speaking to the crowds. At night, the statue is lit up in magical greens and blues. Little bunny rabbits and kangaroos were holding trashcans that read, “Use Me.” Julia and I later commented on how it seemed like an amusement park. Then I heard a voice speaking in English, “All you have to do is give your sins up to the Lord.” As I continued listening, I had a difficult time wrapping my brain around what was going on. It was almost like a Pentecostal service. It seemed such an oxymoron: Charismatic Catholicism. I looked around and wondered why people would be drawn to such a place. I suppose they are looking for answers just like everyone else in the world. Anyway, I will wait for Julia’s documentary to come out and see what she discovers.

By the time we left it was 9 pm and I was a little worried we wouldn’t be able to catch a bus. I haven’t really stayed out past then, because again, women don’t usually go out after dark without their husband/father/son. We also hadn’t eaten since lunch, so we were both a bit tired, damp, and hungry. We were able to catch a bus to Aluva, a place I know well, and a nice woman from Munnar helped us get a bus to Ernakulam. From there our adventure came to an end, back in our little homestay in Ft. Kochi. And because no restaurants were open, we finished the day off backpacker style with a package of banana chips and fried jackfruit.

Malayalam Words:

Vinodayatra – Pleasure trip

Mukkuvanmar – Fishermen

Kuda – Umbrella

Mazha – Rain

Yeshu – Jesus

Enne Upayogikkuu – “Use me (please)”

Pazham – Banana

Chakka - Jackfruit

Tourist or what?

Last Friday we finally had our “make-up day” for the class field trip, which was cancelled because of a state-wide strike. After waiting around 45 minutes for the driver to show up and shuttle us to our destination, we navigated through the tiny backroads of Trivandrum and landed in the most “touristy” portion of the city: Kovalam Beach. As I wrenched myself from the sticky car seat out onto the sandy parking lot, I spotted the first one. It was a pasty woman about the age of fifty wearing a tank top and capri pants, being cajoled by two Indian men selling extremely overpriced “Persian rugs.” After my initial “There’s another white person!” state of shock wore off, I didn’t know if I should feel pity for her unwittingly spending way too much on these rugs, or feel satisfied that this woman, who obviously knows little about this culture (and prices), is being ripped off.

We made our way down the boardwalk lined with restaurants called, “The Belgian Inn,” “German Bakery,” and other such Aryan names meant to entice foreigners. There was a group of three girls wearing hippy clothing and toting Sadhu bags looking at the menu posted outside, while the owner eagerly waited beside them pointing out the Western cuisine. Were they on a spiritual quest in India? Would they find it in Kovalam? No; they would find Chicken Tikka Masala.

These are perhaps the two groups of foreigners that I judge. Maybe it isn’t right of me to do so, but I find myself getting worked up every time I see them. There are the tourists, who do no research about the culture before coming, wear shorts and tank tops, and could care less about the language. One man in the train station (though I loved his use of the word “Tuk-Tuk” for an auto rickshaw) asked my classmate and I what we were doing in Kerala. Aaron replied, “We are studying Malayalam.” And the man said, “Is that a language?”

The other group is the hippies who come to places like Varkala Beach and Daramasala, looking for a “spiritual experience,” but don’t realize they are coming to the most tourist-altered areas of the country. If I can find granola in India, it isn’t India anymore. These people generally don’t come to see the real India, but embrace it in their own romanticized fantasies of the country and its religions.

Then what am I? That’s a good question, and one I am still working out. I certainly romanticize India sometimes, especially when I am in the United States. But I also lived here for one year, I am learning an Indian language, and I am not blind to the negative aspects of the culture, society and religions. Visiting a foreign country means walking the line of cultural sensitivity and self-comfort. In places with so little exposure to foreigners, we represent ourselves, our countries, and our attitudes toward other countries. So please, please, please, before you travel around the world, at least research what to wear.

Malayalam Words:

Videsi – foreigner

Swadesi – native

Yathra – journey

Kadal – sea

Gaveshanam – research

Samuuham – society

Samskaram - culture

A Strike and some Laundry

It was no big surprise that our “class outing” to Kovalam Beach was cancelled on Saturday. Due to politics, of course; we are in Kerala. The central government had decided to hike up the price of petrol, and so all of the state agreed on what is called a “Hartal” or an act of rebellion in which everything in the city shuts down. This means no public transportation, no food, and certainly no beach outing. However, it was a chance for me to get my laundry done.

One thing I learned while living in India is how to wash clothes by hand. Filling up buckets and scrubbing the clothes on a giant cement slab in the heat of an Indian summer doesn’t really seem enjoyable. However, it is one of those menial tasks that can also be cathartic. The washing stone of our apartment is on the rooftop, and having the time alone listening to the environment below puts me in a meditative state. I also somehow feel connected to my grandmother and all the work that had to be done before washing machines were invented. I begin to appreciate the labor we take for granted.

I also remember one of my fellow volunteers talking about the communal aspect of laundry. Somehow as you are hanging up your clothes on the line, you begin to think of all the other people in the world that are doing the same. Everyone has dirty clothes, right? And as I look out from my rooftop and see dozens of other clotheslines garnished with kurtas, lungis, and meters and meters of saree fabric, I can’t help but think of how we are all connected, in time and space, by laundry.

Malayalam Words (with some Hindi mixed in):

thuni = clothing

alakkuka = to wash (clothing)

vellam = water

kallu = stone

saree = women’s clothing made of 9 meters of fabric draped around the body

kurta = a long shirt both women and men wear

lungi = a long piece of rectangular fabric men wrap around the waist (something like a long skirt)