nothing says happy easter like a high-noon stoning

While most Americans were having happy dreams of microwaving marshmallow peeps and Cadbury bunnies laying chocolate eggs, I was getting stoned by the locals. Let me tell you, nothing says "home" like being afraid to walk to the end of the road by yourself on a Sunday afternoon. Nothing says, "I'm a human being just like anyone else," like having fruits and vegetables thrown at you while people who have been seeing you pretty much every day for more than a year make fun of you and call you the local equivalent of names like "honky" and "ghost" and "whitey". And nothing says "Happy Easter" like having a large stone thrown at you while you are walking down the road. Fortunately it "only" hit me on the shoulder, but it hurt and it made me very upset. It was thrown from on top of a building and if it had hit me on the head, then what? When you have stones thrown at you, you get the feeling that you are not being seen as a human being, but something more akin to a dog perhaps. Because people throw stones at dogs, not humans.

I've had things thrown at me here before. Fruits like sapotta and also tubers (surprisingly painful). When kids throw things at me it makes me upset, but when adults do it it really makes you wonder. However, I usually just ignore it and keep going. But today I didn't let it go; I stood my ground. I almost let it go, because what I really wanted to do is run away. But all the constant harassment and objectification I've experienced in this area over the past year really boiled up inside of me, and I felt incredibly upset to be treated this way after living here for so long. Today it was a teenage boy who threw the stone at me. He had excellent aim (unless he was aiming for my head) and should perhaps consider a career as a cricket pitcher (or are they called hurlers?). And let me tell you, he ended up apologizing. The locals were begging me not to call the police. I delivered quite an impassioned speech, if I do say so myself, and was carrying on about how I am not an animal, but a human, and they need to leave me alone while I am walking down the street because I am sick and tired of being intimidated to walk down the street. First it's fruits and vegetables, then stones, and then what? It's time to stand up for myself or else I am going to get run over repeatedly. While I was carrying on, people were remarking: "Wow! She speaks Tamil!" as if I had mistakenly been stoned because people thought I didn't know Tamil (partially true). The angle that seemed to work best in getting sympathy from the huge crowd that gathered for the spectacle was asking folks if it is part of Tamil culture to stone white girls.

The good news is that after one year in Meenakshipuram I have finally stood up for myself and something tells me I won't be stoned henceforth while walking to BB Kulam. Immediately after the incident I ended up meeting some very nice people who took a genuine interest in me. They asked me why I was living in such a horrible part of town. That's a very good question. Let's hope that the next four months are stone free.

Sundays in Meenakshipuram are all about giving thanks to God
for the blessing of the wine shops.

nearly falling head-first and backwards out of the bus is embarrassing...

....it's also dangerous, and scary. Today was one of those days. 80 year old grandmas manage to remain upright while an overcrowded Indian bus lurches left and right and rumbles over huge potholes, slamming on the brakes frequently and without any warning whatsoever. Meanwhile I fall over easily, even when I'm holding on to an overhead bar. I've fallen on top of people from time to time, and it's always embarrassing, but today was the worst. I was holding an umbrella and my bag and was trying to get two damn rupees out of my bag when the bus lurched and I fell backwards. I don't know how I didn't fall out of the bus head-first and backwards, because I was right in front of the entrance (three steps leading down to an opening with no door) to the bus and it was unobstructed. I flew across the bus and somehow or another ended up ass-first on top of a woman right who was right next to the exit. Lucky for me I landed on her, but I think she would have rather I fell out of the bus because she was really angry and started screaming at me. "CAN'T YOU HOLD THE DAMN BAR??" I looked like a total idiot who almost died because she wasn't holding onto the bar. People started grabbing my things and trying to help me the best they could. "Hold the bar!!" But if you don't keep your change purse inside your bra like most women here you require two hands to get your change out. And for this I nearly died.

going by bus in India is cheap, but it sucks.

procession of goodies

There were some technical difficulties in the previous post, but I managed to get the video up this time.

being Tamil is expensive

Thought y'all might like this video. It's a short movie showing the procession of lady relatives bringing gifts to a ritual ear piercing for two kids, ages 3 and 6. These sorts of processions are known as ciir, and all sorts of auspicious occasions require them. They are accompanied by bursting firecrackers, virtual dynamite explosions, and marching bands. Relations are expected to provide gifts and cash to the tune of thousands (and sometimes tens of thousands) of rupees at events such as ear-piercings, weddings, and coming-of-age ceremonies. Money gifts are recorded in a ledger, with name and address and amount of cash being meticulously written down. If you don't have cash when a relation is having a function, you either pawn some gold jewelry if you have it, or you get a loan from a local moneylender at exorbitant interest rates.

If you're low on cash, it's a good idea to have a function. At this particular ear-piercing the family made Rs. 120,000. They're going to build a house with the money. It's interesting to note that while the whole point of these functions is to squeeze tens of thousands of rupees out of your relations and closest friends, people aren't supposed to do up their functions too grand because people will talk about them being too ostentatious. So at this function, the meal was veg and no goat meat was served. People brought a live goat along as the ciir was being marched in, but it turns out the relatives took the goat back home with them when the function was over. The family also didn't hire a professional photographer or videographer (the reason for which, I am told, was to avoid being too ostentatious), but they took care to invite two foreigners with cameras who were instructed to take hundreds of photos of every aspect of the function.

Some people don't even bother disguising the fact that their functions are all about the Benjamins, or Gandhis as the case is here. Recently I went to a coming-of-age ceremony in a village about one hour from Madurai. When we reached the venue I was greeted by a girl about 12 years old whom I assumed to be the reason for the function. Then a little while later a girl shows up all decked out in what was actually wedding jewelry and I was really confused as to what was going on. Well, it turns out the girl in the wedding finery was the one having the coming-of-age ceremony, and she was 21 years old!!! She came of age probably ten years ago, but her family decided to have a "do-over" so they could advertise her for marriage...and rake in Rs. 300,000!!! A handy sum when you are about to spend every penny you have on dowry gold. It comes as no surprise that everyone I know is in debt up to their ears because of ritual obligations. During the last ear-piercing we went to, a friend of mine was horribly embarassed because she could only give Rs. 3000 (more than twice the monthly salary of a day-laborer). Luckily she wasn't one of the in-laws or she would have been laying down Rs. 10,000 easily -- plus gold earrings, chains, and rings. This doesn't count all the vessels, fruits, and clothing that come as part of the ciir. Compare this with the price of the punch bowl you had to buy from that wedding registry in the States and you realize just how expensive it is to be a Tamil.