ABDF

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Hi everybody!

Well, I’ve had an interesting last few days.  I thought I’d tell you about them.

Monday I went with Thiru to see some schools to the north of Batti.  Thiru, as you may recall from my last dispatch, is the woman in whose house I live, and she works for People in Need.  She was going to make some school supply deliveries in the Valanchchenai area and then see some potential project sights in the Vahari (va-HA-ree) area.  Vahari is an area that until last year was under LTTE control, and had been for more than ten years.  It was also severely affected by the tsunami, being a perfectly flat area with an overall elevation of just a few feet above sea level. In addition, there is even less vegetation than you find generally in the district, so when the water came it reached very far inland.  I have never been that far north before, so of course I jumped at the chance to go.

As I said, before we drove into Vahari, we made several deliveries of school supplies in the Valanchchenai area, which is about 38 km north of Batti.  And here I came across a couple projects that we can attend to immediately and cheaply.

One school, called Sri Krishna Vidyalayam (vid-YA-lee-am) (Vidyalayam = school) had been hit pretty hard by the tsunami.  It serves the 1^st – 6^th grade student population for the area.  This includes not only local residents, but IDPs (Internally Displaced Persons) who fled the Vahari area during the military offensive last year and have yet to be allowed to go home. 

Last year AmeriCares built them a brand new two-story school building, complete with ceiling fans, water pump, toilets, and all.  But for whatever reason, there was no money provided to hook the building up to the electrical grid.  So for the past year the students have been studying in the dark, in the intense heat, and can’t use the toilets as they are gravity-driven and there is no power to use the pump to fill the tanks on the roof.  It’s a ludicrous situation, considering how much time, energy, resources, and money went into building and furnishing the school.

The electrical hook-up costs only $150US, so I immediately offered to provide the funds.  I mean, it’s a no-brainer, isn’t it?  I’m waiting to hear from the principal, so that he and I can go to the Electricity Board and get the job done. Then those students can have a well-lit, relatively cool place to learn, and can go to the bathroom when they need to.

Just a kilometer or so away, I visited a tiny preschool called Sivashakthi.  I’ve never seen a more dilapidated, run-down, ancient school in the District, and that’s saying a lot.  It’s an exposed brick and mortar one-room schoolhouse, without electricity, fencing, any sort of landscaping or playground, or even school furniture or supplies.  It’s about the size of my garage at home, if that. The children literally sit on the floor on straw maps and one wall is used as a chalkboard.  The two teachers are doing their best, but it’s a struggle. 

Right now their most urgent priority is the door.  I didn’t get the whole story, but the doorframe itself has been ripped from the wall on one side, rendering the door useless; to open or close it requires a titanic struggle, so it is just left there, half-open.  Overall, this school needs a huge amount of help, but I figured at least we could replace the door and doorframe immediately. I’m not at all sure what we can do about the major cracks in the wall, the sagging roof supports, or the holes in the cement floor.  I need to find another group that can do more than we can.  But at least for now we can fix the stupid door.

From Valanchchenai we drove north into Vahari.  The former line of control is only 8 km (about 5 miles) north of Valanchchenai, and there is still a major checkpoint as you cross an ancient rickety iron bridge over a small river. From there, the roads wanders through what can only be described as a low-scrub desert.  The villages along the way are heavily damaged from the fighting, although I did note a lot of international agencies rebuilding various things.  And given that there is still some low-level hit-and-run type attacks in the area, the military presence is extremely heavy.

I’ve gotta say, I was surprised by two things about the military. 

First, I was stunned by how young the soldiers are, both men and women.  Where I live, the soldiers all seem to be in their 20s and 30s. But most of these kids I saw in Vahari couldn’t have been more than 20; obviously raw recruits.  I mean literally still teenagers.  It was depressing to see.  I’ve already described earlier how I feel bad for the common soldier, having compared them to our own men in Viet Nam, but I felt even worse seeing these teeny-bopper looking kids. It brought home to me the results of the massive and indiscriminate recruitment drives that go on in the Singhala south, as the government further militarizes the country in an effort to bring about a military solution to the conflict.

On the other hand, I was amazed at how very friendly all the soldiers were to us.  Smiles, hellos, and a complete lack of intimidation.  Thiru tells me that this is normal for the area; even when everyone disembarks at the big checkpoint to be patted down and bags and vehicles searched, the soldiers of both sexes are all friendly and polite, sometimes even cracking jokes with them, and generally trying to make the process as easy as possible.  Perhaps this is because these young soldiers are not yet battle-hardened and cynical.  Of course, Thiru added, if there were to be some major incident in the area, all this would change.  But as of right now, there is none of the mutual fear, distrust, and anger you see in my area. 

I truly hope this situation continues, and for several reasons.  First, all the little people, foot soldiers and Tamil civilians alike, are pawns in the power game played by both sides of the conflict.  This much they have in common.  Second, the government is trying to convince the Tamils that it is better to live under government control than under the Tigers.  Normally the security forces treat Tamil civilians like criminals or worse; this does nothing to wean Tamils from the LTTE.  If such friendliness as I saw between Tamils and soldiers in Vahari could be the norm, it would greatly help the government’s case.  Third, as I said before, the soldiers were all barely-grown children and apparently have not yet been traumatized into hatred and distrust; I’d like them to remain that way.  As our own experience in Viet Nam has shown, war ruins the lives of the soldiers, even if they emerge physically unscathed. And finally, when all is said and done, Tamils and Singhalese have to live with each other.

So my trip into Vahari was an eye-opener, to say the least.  I’m very happy I went with Thiru, not the least because we can help those two schools.

Last night I went to a kovil outside Batti for the last night of its festival. Temple festival season started about three weeks ago, and lasts until July 31.  During this period, all the different kovils put on week-long festivals, which cumulate on Final Night, then Final Day.  Those of you who read my dispatches from the tsunami days might recall my description of the Final Night and Day at Mamangam kovil, which is the grand finale of the season. 

At any rate, one of the Synergy kids, Pushpakaran, picked me up and we went to the village of Urani (oo-RAH-nee) which is about 7 km out of town.  This particular kovil, which is small, is dedicated to the goddess Shakthi, the goddess of power, in the sense of movement and strength.  Normally even the smaller kovils are thronged with people on Final Night, but with the security situation what it is, and the recent unrest, the crowd was on the paltry side.  Nonetheless, those who were there were enthusiastic; this is after all, their villages’ chance to show off.

Live temple music was blaring, there was lots of chanting, bright colored lights, bells ringing, and as you circumambulated clockwise within the temple, the various images of the gods were dripping with ghee (clarified butter) and wrapped in brilliant brocade in their niches and shrines. (I might add here that the god(dess) to whom a temple is dedicated is enshrined at the center of the kovil, but the other main gods are also present in smaller shrines around the interior perimeter.) In her inner sanctum, the golden bejeweled image of Shakthi was visible to all; normally she is kept behind a curtain. Outside, family groups sat on the sand, waiting for the dedicants to arrive.

Hinduism is noted for its varied and deep esoteric philosophies, which have entranced Westerners for the past 400 years.  Remember The Beatles and the Swami Mahareesh?  However, this cerebral aspect of the religion is for the very few; for the vast majority of adherents, Hinduism is a very earthy, emotive, and organic way of being that is so all-pervasive they don’t see it as a separate thing from daily life, as we tend to view religion in the West.  For them it IS daily life. 

Sometimes this devotion can manifest itself in ways that shock us Westerners.  The dedicants that come to the kovil on Final Night (and Day) are an example.  Basically there are two related types, and the trials they undergo, frankly speaking, make my stomach wince.

Generally they approach the kovil in a parade, accompanied by wild, oft time ecstatic music. Drums pound wildly, horns wail, and the crowd shouts.

First came a group of men carrying on their shoulders these big things.  I’m not sure how to describe them, other than to say that they look similar to the enormous headdresses you sometimes see on Carnival floats in Rio de Janeiro. Except these are heavy, and carried on a wooden crossbar across the shoulders.  These guys are all pierced up. There are rods thrust from one cheek through the mouth and back out the other. Sometimes it is the tongue pierced vertically. Long pins line their arms from shoulder to elbow, looking not unlike a zipper. From their backs extrude dozens of medium-sized hooks, each with a string, all of which are gathered together, like the reigns of a horse, by an attendant who follows behind.  At each intersection along the route the parade pauses, and the music becomes even more ecstatic.  The be-hooked men begin to dance, leaning and swinging forward, with their attendants holding them in check with all their strength by the “reigns.”  After some five or ten minutes, the parade continues on towards the kovil.  Upon arrival in front of the temple entrance, another, longer, more vigorous dance ensues.  Finally, the men, still followed by their attendants, trudge into the temple itself.  I didn’t follow to see what happened, but I assume after circumambulating the interior, and dancing in front of the various shrines therein, that the hooks are then removed.

Immediately following the men with the reigns, come the hanging men.  Let’s see if I can describe this well.  Imagine a tractor and trailer, brightly lit with multicolored flashing lights and strips of brocade.  From the trailer, angling above the head of the driver extends an extremely long “crane” about the width of a diving board.  This too is covered with multi-color lights and gleaming brocade. From the underside of this crane, about 20 feet off the ground, hangs a man.  He is horizontal, as if flying.  He hangs by a multitude of medium-sized hooks from the back of the shoulders, the middle of the back on either side of the spine, the lower back near the buttocks, and the back of the upper thighs.  His feet are bound together to prevent flailing (I suppose) and his arms hang free.  He holds in each hand a large bunch of curry bush branches, which he flaps slowly up and down, as if they were wings.  A rope is tied to the crane, and is rhythmically pulled on by an attendant, so the hanging man dips gently up and down.

Once the parade enters the kovil grounds, the tractor slowly circumambulates, as always clockwise, around the temple.  The devotee is then slowly lowered down, and supported by many hands; the many strings holding him up are untied and his feet unbound.  He is then set upon his feet, and walks into the kovil, followed by an attendant holding the strings.  Yes, every one I saw was able to stand and walk, although occasionally with a little assistance. In fact, as one such hanging man passed by very close to me as he was hanging, I was able to look him in the face, and he into mine.  The man was fully conscious and not in any apparent trance-like state.  He did look like he was amped up on endorphins, which are the chemicals your body produces to deal with pain. It gets you slightly high, with a sort of warm floaty feeling. No wonder, considering all those hooks, and then to be hanging by them.  This also explains the dancing men.

Surprisingly, there was no blood to be seen, or if there was, there was so little as not to be noticeable.  I have heard, and seen on TV, that if done right, such heavy piercing can be down with no injury or blood loss. 

Either way, the whole thing is extremely dramatic, especially at night with the moon and stars and pulsating lights. 

While personally I think there are more practical ways of showing your devotion, such as through good works, you can’t help admiring anyone who so loves their god that they are willing to go through so much. And before any of you start to snort about barbaric religious processes, I would remind you that until very recently, historically speaking, Christians were going through all sorts of extreme mortification to show their devotion, and there are some Christians who still do.

Before I close, I want to mention that our computer lab at Kaluwankerny is on-time and on-budget so far.  I hope to have it completed by next week, with a small opening ceremony around the 26^th.  The transport of material for the road at Olikulam is finished; I just have to pay for the hauling and visit the site.

As you can see, this is proving to be a very productive month.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

OK, as you can see, I was delayed in posting this.  The reason was half laziness, half problems with the internet, and half because I wanted to get some more information about the projects I talk about above.

Tomorrow morning I go with the principal of the Sri Krishna Vidyalayam to the Electricity Board to arrange for the school to be hooked up to the grid.  My friend Thiru will also get an estimate for the door at Sivashakthi.  So the plan is to arrange for the carpenter to fix the door on the same day as the electrical connection, so that way I’ll only have to make one trip, not two. I hope this will all happen during the coming week or next.