What's the deal Delhi? The Death Penalty Debate as a Proxy Fight for Gender Equality

On December 16, 2012, India was rocked by the report that a young medical student was abducted, gang-raped, beaten, and left for dead by five young men in Delhi.  We all know of this incident, news of the Delhi Gang Rape shocked people all over the world.  Almost immediately, protestors took to the Delhi streets, demanding action from the government.  Public outrage only increased when the young woman died of her injuries.  Three months later, however, public and political conversation in India now focuses on whether or not the death penalty should be applicable to rape cases, with the conservative opposition party (the Bharatiya Janata Party, or BJP) advocating the use of capital punishment, and women’s groups opposing it.  The conflict surrounding capital punishment now threatens to stall all policy reform on the issue of sexual violence.  How did this horrific event, which seemed to be the catalyst for sweeping societal and political change, become a fight over the death penalty?

Public outrage over the Delhi Gang Rape incident was voiced from every corner of the country as protestors called for justice and change.  The Indian Parliament responded by instructing a three-person commission, headed by former Chief Justice J.S. Verma, to submit a report with policy recommendations on how to amend the criminal code and relevant laws in order to “provide for quicker investigation, prosecution, trial, as also enhanced punishment for criminals accused of committing sexual assault of an extreme nature against women.”  With the help of several women’s organizations, the commission was able to provide the Indian Parliament with such a report in less than a month.  The Verma Commission Report identified “failure of governance” as the root cause of sexual assault and rape, and recommended sweeping changes at every bureaucratic level.  These recommendations reflected the view that sexual violence is caused by gender discrimination in Indian society.  Less than two weeks after receiving the report, Parliament members drafted an ordinance to change the Indian Penal Code and the Code of Criminal Procedure.  This ordinance reflected some of the recommendations of the Justice Verma Commission Report, but also included policy changes that were in direct opposition to other recommendations.  One of these conflictual changes is the possibility of a death sentence in the conviction of rape cases that lead to death or a “vegetative state,” and has become a divisive issue between political parties and interest groups.  The All India Progessive Women’s Association and other women’s interest groups have urged Parliament not to pass this ordinance because it differs in several ways from the Justice Verma Commission’s recommendations, and primarily because of the inclusion of the death penalty as a deterrent to rape. 

Before we Americans accuse these groups of throwing the baby out with the bathwater, we should first remember that recently American women’s rights groups opposed the House version of the Violence Against Women Act because of a few key sticking points, and for good reason.  Perhaps this legislative fight in the Lok Sabha[1]  may be about more than the morality of capital punishment.  In Anulla Linders’ great article comparing the Swedish and American solutions to the problem of unsafe abortions in the late nineteenth century, she argues that how a problem is framed is the variable that leads to different solutions. [2]  In a similar vein, a comparison of the arguments for and against the death penalty in India reveal that women’s rights groups have framed the issue of sexual violence differently than the Indian Parliament and the vocal conservative opposition.  This comparison shows that this is actually a conflict over women’s place in society, with one side arguing that women (as the naturally subordinate sex) need to be protected and the other saying that sexual violence should be considered unacceptable in any form, thus forwarding a gender-equality agenda.

I know what you must be thinking, how does the possibility of a death penalty conviction oppose women’s rights?  Wouldn’t it send a clear message about the unacceptability of sexual violence?  These are good questions, and they have some pretty convincing answers.  According to a joint statement by several women’s groups, the death penalty is being used to distract attention from the actual issue, the prevalence of sexual assault and rape carried out against Indian women.  This sexual violence epidemic, they argue, can be traced back to the silencing of victims by society, the reluctance of police to officially report instances of sexual violence, and low conviction rates for perpetrators.  Together, these issues give the message that women’s lives and well-being are not worth much, perpetrators will not face punishment for their actions, and that sexual violence is culturally acceptable.  Solutions to this problem must include greater pressure on law enforcement and the judiciary to speedily report, prosecute, and convict perpetrators, thus sending the message that sexual violence borne out of gender inequality is culturally unacceptable.

Seen through this frame, inclusion of the death penalty as a sentence for extraordinary cases of rape contradicts the basic philosophy of women’s rights groups and would actually exacerbate the problem.   If rape became a possible sentence, the report and conviction rate would actually decrease because victims would be hesitant to report family members.  Experience has proved that getting a conviction for a death-penalty case in India is notoriously difficult, and such harsh sentences may lower conviction rates further.  The use of capital punishment in rape cases also equates rape with death, a view which women’s groups argue is borne out of the patriarchal notions of honor that lead to high rates of sexual and gender-based violence in the first place.  They also point out that there is no concrete evidence that the death penalty acts as a deterrent to rape.  The Justice Verma Commission Report specifically argued that the expansion of the use of the death penalty would be counterproductive.  Instead, it suggested slight reform of the actual criminal code and more effective implementation and execution of existing laws.  “Failure of good governance is the obvious root cause for the current unsafe environment eroding the rule of law, and not the want of needed legislation,” the report stated.

The joint statement issued by several women’s organizations opposing the use of the death penalty in cases of rape was published a little more than a week after the story of the Delhi Gang Rape broke, as if they were anticipating the opposition’s response and proposed solutions.  The outraged Indian public was (and still is) calling for the death penalty for the Delhi Gang Rape perpetrators, a sentiment that was echoed and promoted by more conservative political party members.  The BJP, currently the leading conservative opposition party in the Lok Sabha (Indian Parliament), and its political allies were swift in their calls for retribution and tough legislative reform in December.  “The rapists should be hanged, we need tougher laws to stop rapes,” said the BJP’s senior leader two days after the incident.  The Shiv Sena, a radical arm of the BJP, handed out 21,000 knives with three-inch blades and bags of chili powder to women in Mumbai and urged them to take all necessary measures to protect themselves from attackers.  The BJP has fully endorsed the new ordinance, citing its tough punishment provisions for rapes of an extreme nature (aka, the death penalty). 

By emphasizing the need for expansion of death-penalty cases to include rape and by not engaging in conversation with women’s groups on this issue, the BJP and the Indian Parliament have shown that they see the social problem of sexual assault through a very different frame than women’s rights organizations and the Justice Verma Commission.  In focusing only on this issue of tough punishment and by ignoring the Commission’s recommendations for the criminalization of marital rape, holding police officers accountable for reporting all cases of sexual violence, and by narrowly defining what rape means, the new ordinance seems to endorse the cultural status quo.  Conservative groups asking women to arm themselves and fend off attackers puts the responsibility of rape on the women, not on the perpetrator.  This endorses patriarchal ideas of honor and virtue located in women’s bodies.  The BJP’s and Indian Parliament’s concentration on the death penalty as the most important policy change allows them to seem as if they are taking swift and effective action while avoiding the sweeping changes that would promote gender equality in Indian society—what women’s rights organizations see as the root cause of sexual violence.

So why did one interpretation, or framing, of India’s sexual violence problem win out over the other?  I would argue that neither frame has been more convincing than the other, especially in political and public dialogue.  The framing of this social problem as a matter of gender-equality and the suggestion of regular enforcement of existing laws resulted in the highly publicized and regarded Justice Verma Commission Report.  However, The view that little is wrong with prevailing public views of gender difference and that India needs tougher punishments for perpetrators to act as a deterrent for rape has shaped much of the new ordinance.  In order to understand why the expansion of the death penalty is included in the ordinance, we must look at how the issue became part of the political agenda for curbing sexual violence. 

The Delhi Gang Rape was the catalyst for political discussion on the problem of sexual violence, what John W. Kingdon calls the “focusing event” for policy[3].  The horrific nature of the incident and its wide publication in the media motivated the Indian public to call for change.  Women’s groups seized the opportunity to spread their criticism of culturally-entrenched acceptability of sexual violence to a wider society, staging demonstrations and protests in the capital.  All of this created a policy window,[4] an opportunity in which actual policy change could occur.  Previously formed proposals for addressing sexual violence were suddenly relevant and important to policy makers.  The swiftness with which the Justice Verma Commission was able to put together a comprehensive and thoughtful report of policy recommendations (one month) shows that the women’s groups and specialists who they collaborated with had been waiting for such a policy window to open. Their constant protesting presence around India attempted to keep the policy window open long enough to get meaningful and effective legislation passed.  Policy windows, however, can be double-edged swords.  The BJP and other conservative groups were also quick to make recommendations for expanding the use of capital punishment to “extraordinary” cases of rape.

Barbara J. Nelson, has outlined a helpful four-stage process by which certain issues and solutions are accepted and others are rejected in policy making.[5] First, Nelson argues that an issue must be recognized by policymakers and the public as worthy of attention and action.  Afterwards, policymakers must be convinced that political action will result in observable change.  It is in this second stage of agenda-setting that the BJP’s proposed solution is strongest.  The Justice Verma Commission’s recommendations are dependent on enforcement and judicial reform.  This will take time, and the proposal assumes that the bureaucratic structure will actually conform to new mandates.  India does not have a good law enforcement track record, especially in regards to sexual violence.  Expansion of the death penalty to cases of rape that result in death or a vegetative state may have a more immediate and observable consequence.  This solution has the added bonus of being simpler and (ostensibly) less costly to implement.  It is, in many ways, easier to see the effect of the BJP’s solution, even though it may further contribute to underreporting and low conviction rates for incidents of sexual violence. 

John Kingdon, another policy-making theorist, has argued that successful proposals have to be technically feasible, conform to pre-existing values, financially acceptable, and appease the public. [6]  Here again we see how the BJP and conservative political actors have been successful in moving their proposed solution to the top of the sexual violence agenda.  Not only does this solution require less bureaucratic mess (it is more technically and financially feasible), it is a product of the predominant values of Indian society in which women do not have equal standing with men.  It conforms to the values of the public majority, and is thus more popular with the outraged nation.  Women’s groups are not the only voice of protest over the Delhi Gang Rape incident, for three months many demonstrators have been calling for the five perpetrators to be hanged.  The inclusion of the death sentence for extreme cases of rape in the new ordinance can be interpreted as an attempt to satisfy the public.  The BJP, being the minority and opposition party, has a vested interest in promoting this solution among Indian voters to garner popularity for upcoming elections (because of India’s political structure and culture, every year is an election year).  As Kingdon says in his discussion of policy priorities, the combination of national mood and elections is a more powerful agenda setter than organized interests.[7]

So why has this opportunity for sweeping change in India regarding sexual violence turned into a public debate on the death penalty?  It seems there are two reasons.  One is that the debate over the inclusion of the death penalty in the ordinance that now sits before the Indian Parliament is not really about the death penalty but about differing views of women’s rights and roles in Indian society.  Those parties who forward the women’s rights agenda oppose the death penalty because it reinforces patriarchal views of honor and does not address the reluctance of law enforcement and the judiciary to report and convict perpetrators.  Those who ascribe to a more conservative view of gender roles support using the death penalty as a deterrent because it fits with the prevailing view that women need to be “protected” and does not seek to change the underlying patriarchal values that have led to low incident report and conviction rates.  The second reason for the focus on the death penalty is that this particular solution meets the theoretical requirements for policy discussion and action better than the comprehensive recommendations of the Justice Verma Commission.  It is a simple and quick fix that can be easily implemented, and it is popular with the public.

As I previously mentioned, the new ordinance is now being debated in the Lok Sabha, and it is unlikely to pass.  Will the government ever effectively address India’s sexual violence problem?  I would say yes, but only if women’s rights groups and the progressive political parties re-frame their argument for change in the interpretation and enforcement of sexual violence laws.  Like many countries experiencing rapid economic and social changes, “traditional” values (e.g. patriarchal notions of gender roles and rights) have become more pronounced among the middle and lower economic classes.  This both leads to high rates of sexual violence and hinders effective reform.  If women’s rights groups argue that their solutions promote these traditional values instead of oppose them and connect these solutions to the public’s growing discontent with bureaucratic corruption, I believe lasting change is possible and probable.  We can only hope that it will not take another horrific story to start the policy process again.    

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[1] The lower house of the Indian Parliament, where the ordinance is currently being debated

[2] Linders, Anulla. (1998).  Abortion as a social problem: The construction of “opposite” solutions in Sweden and the United States.  Social Problems 45(4), 488-509. 

[3] Kingdon, John W.  (1987).  Chapter 9: Wrapping things up.  In John W. Kingdon, Agendas, alternatives, and public policies (pp. 205-218).  Boston, MA:  Little, Brown and Company. 

[4] Ibid.

[5] Nelson, Barbara.  (1987).  Chapter 2:  Theoretical approaches to agenda-setting. In Making an issue of child abuse, (pp. 20-31).  Chicago, IL:  University of Chicago Press.

[6] Kingdon, John W.  (1995).  Chapter 6:  The policy primeval soup.  In Agendas, alternatives and public policies; Second edition (pp. 116-144).  New York, NY:  Harper Collins College Publishers.

[7] Kingdon, John W.  (1987).  Chapter 9: Wrapping things up.  In John W. Kingdon, Agendas, alternatives, and public policies (pp. 205-218).  Boston, MA:  Little, Brown and Company.

The Lord's Langar

As Christians, we are called to show unconditional hospitality to all the human family. We are told to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick and comfort the broken-hearted. All too often though, we forget or ignore our call because of the inconveniences that arise from living out this sacred mission. When we see evidence of people living out God’s message of unconditional hospitality, it can be a powerful moment of reawakening. My faith journey has been peppered with these moments of epiphany, the most recent being my visit to the Sri Harmander Sahib—the Golden Temple at Amritsar. The temple is, in itself, breathtakingly beautiful, but what touched me was the unconditional hospitality of the Sikhs. Just as with Christianity, absolute kindness and generosity towards others is sacred in Sikhism, and at the Golden Temple, Sikh devotees carry out this mission every day.
Accommodation at the Golden Temple is free. Massive buildings that house thousands of beds are always open to pilgrims and travelers who wish to stay, regardless of religion or nationality. The rooms are kept clean and as comfortable as possible by an army of volunteers from the community. Unlike other temples, mosques and churches in India, visitors can see the Sri Harmander Sahib free of cost. There is no charge to visit the temple, no charge for a headscarf and no charge for shoe service (shoes and uncovered heads are not allowed in the temple proper). Everyone is welcome.

While we were at the Golden Temple, we experienced langar, the traditional Sikh meal that is shared with the whole Earthen community, regardless of race, religion, caste, sex or nationality. Every Sikh temple (gurdwara) serves langar, but the Sri Harmandar Sahib easily serves the most people, over 70,000 a day! Because Sikhism rose out of an opposition to the caste system, it is very important to Sikhs that everyone at langar eats the same food in the same place at the same time. Langar is also a means of feeding the poor; anyone can partake of langar at any time. We gathered our plates and followed the crowd into a large room that could easily sit 1000, and probably did. We sat down and servers came around, ladling daal (fried pulses in curry), channa masala (chickpea curry), sweet rice and chappatti onto our plates. We were allowed to eat our fill, the servers coming by often to ask if we wanted more of anything. After we had eaten, we took our plates out and deposited them in baskets, where they were immediately picked up and washed by an army of volunteers. To cook, serve, or help wash dishes for langar is considered a sacred duty among the Sikhs.
As I ate, I thought about Paul’s idea of the Lord's Supper. The Lord’s Supper, Paul says, is based on equality and fraternity, it is a meal shared among the human family. Class, creed, gender, none of these divisions should be preserved during this holy meal—it is a act of radical equality. I felt that sense of radical equality when I ate langar, in a way that I had not experienced before. Thousands of people, from all over the world, were sharing one meal side by side. Those who provided the meal did so without payment, without expecting any reward. As I was sharing langar with hundreds of people from every walk of life, I felt a holiness that I have, in the past, associated with sharing the Lord’s Supper. Although there was no ceremonial breaking of the bread, I felt the Spirit’s presence. It was amazing to find a familiar holiness in a place so foreign.

Incredible India!

"So far as I am able to judge, nothing has been left undone, either by man or nature, to make India the most extraordinary country that the sun visits on his rounds. Nothing seems to have been forgotten, nothing overlooked."

Mark Twain

This past month, the India YAVs went on a tour of North India to better understand the diversity and the rich cultural heritage of the country. Every region, every state of India is different, bound together only by the legacy of British colonial rule. Kerala is in no way a fair representation of all India, just as Texas is not a fair representation of the other 49 United States. Within many states, there exist many different peoples, religions and languages. Even though we traveled for a month around North India, we saw only a small part of the country. We tried to see as much as we could, but knew that we were missing a lot.

On this journey I visited 8 Indian states, spent about 140 hours (almost 6 full days) on different trains, walked countless miles and heard six different languages. There is no way I could do justice to everything that I saw or all the experiences that I had in just one blog post, so here is a summary of my 1 month tour:

• Agra: I saw the sun rise and set on the Taj Mahal and explored the ruins of the beautiful Agra fort. I learned that with the right people and the right reading material, a 40-hour train ride can actually be fun.
• Jaipur: I climbed up to a small temple famous for the monkeys that congregate at sunset and learned how to charm a cobra (the trick is to remove the teeth). While trying to eat as cheaply as possible, I became acquainted with the delicious Dal Makhani (pulses slow simmered in ghee).
• Jaiselmer: While staying in the city that must have been the inspiration for Agraba (in Disney’s Aladdin), I marveled at the intricate carvings that covered several Jain temples. I rode a camel into the Thar Desert and slept outside under a canopy of stars after singing Simon and Garfunkel’s “Cecelia” with our camel driver.
• McLeod Ganj: I indulged in the cool mountain air and enjoyed the sight of thousands of Tibetan prayer flags waving in the breeze. I could not escape some famous cricket players (and their fan clubs), but did get a glimpse of His Holiness the Dalai Lama!
• Amritsar: I spent hours wandering around the Golden Temple (the holy center of Sikhism) and shared in the community meal called langar. This was one of the most spiritually stirring experiences I have had in India. I also witnessed the amazing Border-Closing Ceremony between India and Pakistan.
• Mussoorie: I attended a hilltop carnival in the foothills of the Himalayas and could (just barely!) see a snowcapped peak in the distance. For the first time in more than a year, I had to wrap myself in a blanket to ward off the cold.
• Haridwar: I waded in the Ganges among thousands of pilgrims, which helped me to escape the burning heat of the sun.
• Delhi: I visited a massive mosque and meandered through several Mughal tombs. I paid homage to Mahatma Gandhi at his last home and the spot where he fell. I learned how to haggle with rickshaw drivers and shop owners.
• Goa: I chilled on the beach and tasted some delicious seafood, cooked tandoori style. I basked in the familiar scenery of South India, and enjoyed the warmth of the Indian Ocean.

After a month of sleeping on trains, frantically calling hotels to make reservations, catching 4am buses and adjusting to the unique chemical composition of North Indian food, it felt great to come home to Kerala. The coconut trees seemed to wave hello to us as we rolled into Kerala and the skies treated us to a beautiful thunderstorm. I had already fallen in love with this small and relatively inconsequential state, but a month of North India fixed Kerala’s place in my heart.

I am incredibly happy to be back in familiar places and surrounded by familiar faces. I returned to my work on Monday with an energy that a month ago I hadn’t thought possible. It didn’t hurt that the girls at Saanthwanam ran out to meet me and nearly knocked me over with the force of their hugs, or that the women’s faces at Asha Bhavan broke into huge, bright smiles when I returned. Though it had been fun to roam, it was good to be back home.

Sunrise over the Thar Desert in Rajasthan

Cynthia making friends with a cow Jaiselmer, Rajasthan

Changes

The school year in Kerala has come to an end (April and May are the summer vacation months here), and I now find myself in a very different work and living situation. Yesterday, all my hostelmates left for home. Those who completed their first year will return in mid-May for a special camp, and the secon-year students will return in June for their model and board examinations, but until then I will be living alone. Yesterday was also the last day for exams at Buchanan Higher Secondary School, so I no longer have any classes to teach and no fellow teachers to chat with in the staff room. Part of me is extremely glad that I don’t have to prepare any lesson plans for the next two months, but the other part of me will miss being with the students every day.

Although I don’t have any more teaching responsibilities for a while, I am still very busy! I have started volunteering with two different organizations in the Kottayam area: Saanthwanam and Asha Bhavan. Saanthwanam is a women’s and children’s shelter tucked away in one of Kottayam’s many neighborhoods. One of my BIGHS hostelmates (a very bright girl named Sharinya) lives there with her mother during school holidays. Sharinya and her mother came to Saanthwanam a little less than a year ago. Sharinya’s father is an alcoholic and was abusive towards his wife and children. There are many women here in Kerala who are in this position (alcoholism rates in the state are high, as are rates of domestic abuse), but many do not seek help from outside. Thankfully, a family friend referred the family to Saanthwanam. Sharinya was granted a place in Buchanan Higher Secondary and her mother received vocational training in book-binding. Like all the residents of the shelter, Sharinya and her mother received professional counseling. Now that Sharinya has completed the 10^th standard and her mother is now a skilled laborer, they are ready to start their life fresh.

This is just one Saanthwanam story, all of the women and children have similar backgrounds of severe poverty and abuse. However, they are finally in a place that is safe and part of a community made up of caring people. The residents of Saanthwanam do all the cooking and cleaning as well as study a vocation (tailoring and book binding are common, although one resident just completed her Masters of Philosophy!). Unfortunately, during the summer months the children have very little in the way of entertainment and their mothers don’t have the time to play with them. That’s where I come in. For three days a week, the children and I play games, sing songs and do arts and crafts. They’ve already taught me a Kerala version of hopscotch (akka—really tough!) and a few Malayalam and Tamil pop songs. They enjoy decorating their home with the crafts we make, and are already more comfortable trying to communicate in English. I absolutely love going to Saanthwanam, and find that the work rejuvenates rather than tires me.

Asha Bhavan is my other commitment during the summer months. This home is run by the Church of South India Women’s Fellowship and is a daycare center for women with special needs. All of the women are over the age of 18 and all have very different ways of experiencing the world. Most of the women are autistic (falling in very different places on the spectrum), one has Down’s Syndrome, and all are very enjoyable. Our day starts with prayer, then gardening: watering plants and picking up leaves. One of the women and I compete to see how many leaves each one of us can gather, I have yet to win. After gardening, some of the higher functioning women go to a restaurant or a tailoring shop owned by the CSI Women’s Fellowship. These women chop vegetables or do simple sewing and draw a monthly salary. The remaining women do low impact aerobics and then the fun really begins! We do crafts and the women take turns at the sewing machine—they are all learning how to do some work. We then have lunch and play a game outside. After we are all hot and sweaty, we come back inside for more crafts. The women love creating and making artwork, and the smiles on their faces after a good game of “catch” could light up the world! Although the linguistic barriers between these women and myself are even more formidable than with other Keralites, we understand each other pretty well. We love to laugh and sing together, and what more do you need to bond with people than that?

So although I find myself without my hostel and teacher friends, I am still surrounded by loved ones. My community in Kerala is growing ever larger. I will miss my hostelmates, and I will be very glad when they return in May and June, but until then I am overjoyed to spend more time with these new friends.

I want to take some time to thank you for your thoughts, prayers, and financial donations over this past 6 months. My faith has grown and changed in ways that I never thought possible. Event though I teach English classes and volunteer at different organizations for my mission work, I often feel that I am the one learning the most from this experience. You can continue to support me by praying for me and for all the people of my community here in South India, following my experience through my blog, and by donating to my mission. give online at http://www.pcusa.org/yav/support.htm#international (click on Sarah Lynn Jones). Right now, I am just $2500 short of the $9000 needed to finance my mission here in India. Thank you all again for making this amazing mission and experience possible!

Small Goodbyes

In Kerala, the school year ends in March, meaning that I only have one more month to enjoy my hostelmates’ company before they leave for summer vacation or for the next step in their education. Classes have stopped at Buchanan Girls’ Higher Secondary School while the students study for and then take their exams throughout the month of March. Needless to say, this has led to quite a change of mood for me. I am sad because soon I will have to say goodbye to many of my hostel friends and happy that I get to spend more time with my teacher peers—the staff room has become quite a playground for us!

Last Friday, I had to say farewell to my aniyati (little sister), Shanu. Shanu is studying in 7th standard and completed all her exams last week, so her mother came Friday morning to take her home for the summer months (April and May). Shanu was one of the first BIGHS students to welcome me to the hostel life. While most of the other girls were, at first, shy and deferential to me, Shanu would talk to me every day, beg me for exercise classes (of which she was the only student with perfect attendance), show me around the school, teach me Kerala children’s games and encouraged the other girls to do the same. With the other HS student boarders, it was a hard fought battle to get them to call me “Sarah Chechi” (big sister) instead of “Sarah Ma’am,” but Shanu immediately adopted the new form address and delighted in greeting me every day with “Good morning Sarah Chechi!”

Shanu has been my constant companion and teacher these past few months, Under her tutorship, I have learned how to wash my clothes by hand, how to tell biting ants from more harmless (if not less annoying) ants, how to catch falling leaves from the “lucky tree” (every leaf you catch guarantees you 10 rupees!) and how to look at life through rose-colored glasses. Shanu doesn’t live far away from BIGHS like her hostelmates, but she has to live here because her parents cannot give her the attention she needs at home. Shanu has a brother and sister, both with severe medical problems that require constant attention. Her brother cannot attend school and her sister can only attend part-time. Shanu’s brother needs kidney surgery, but has to wait until he is older and stronger for it to be a safe procedure. Shanu’s sister has trouble breathing (I believe it’s severe asthma), for which the Kerala climate (hot and dusty) is not exactly helpful. Shanu’s mother has to work and take care of her two sick children, and her father’s job as a truck driver keeps him from home a lot. Shanu herself is not perfectly healthy; she has a small heart defect.

Despite all of this, Shanu has the most cheerful spirit of all the BIGHS boarders. Whenever I was feeling down—having had a bad day or being a little homesick—Shanu could always make me smile again. One day, my classes were very rowdy and I was missing my friends and when Shanu asked me if we were having exercise class I told her that I was too tired. I was sitting in my room later reading, when I heard someone tap on my window. It was Shanu, with a bouquet of fresh flowers she had picked for me. She told me the name of each flower and showed me how to arrange them so that they were the most aesthetically pleasing. She banished my bad mood with a simple act of kindness. Whenever we talked about her family or her home, she would get a little said because she missed her family, but then she would smile at me and say that she was glad she was in the hostel because she could play with me.

I know Shanu has been looking forward to going home, and I’m glad that she will get to spend more time with her family during the summer holidays, but I will miss her terribly. Thankfully, she will return in June with her smile and her feistiness.

Meditations on Serving

This blog post is dedicated to the students, staff and faculty who make up the Agnes Scott College Living Wage Campaign.

Dear Friends,

Thank you, as always, for supporting my mission in India with your interest in my work and in the spiritual and emotional support that always comes at a much needed moment. After 2 months of uncertainty and emotional lows, January was a welcome change. I moved into my new home on New Year’s Eve, which was one of the best days for such a transition. My new hostelmates welcomed me with open arms and we immediately became friends. The girls here have taught me so much in just a few months. My Malayalam is much improved, I can now wash my clothes by hand (on a rock!) and I can finally tie a saree all by myself. Most of my hostelmates are teachers in training, so we all get to practice teaching every day with each other!
Every day in January brought something new and exciting; I couldn’t have asked for a better site.

I could go on and on about how much I enjoy my new life here in Buchanan, but I wanted to take some time with this blog post to meditate on the concept of serving. In Kerala, serving is built into the food culture and is always something that volunteers struggle with. People of lower social stature serve people of higher stature. Most institutions hire someone whose duty it is to serve everyone tea, coffee, food, etc. If I am eating in a communal mess hall, staff comes around with food constantly asking if I want more of something. If I am visiting someone’s home, the mistress of the house will serve food to other guests, her family and me. Only after all have eaten will the server be able to eat the food that is leftover. Because I am a foreigner, and therefore a special guest wherever I go, my food is always served to me. Servers never eat with the served, and the served generally do not thank or pay much attention to the servers except to deny or affirm that they want more of a particular food item. When I was staying at Mandiram, I had the opportunity of serving, along with the wardens, some guests who came for various programs. If this particular part of Malayali culture had bothered me before, it was magnified ten times by the experience of being on the serving end.

I should mention that there are a few exceptions to this rule. One of the many things I appreciate about Buchanan is the fact that for breakfast and dinner, the boarding students take turns serving and at dinner the cook/server eats with us. However, when I eat with the Buchanan teachers at lunch the normal serving etiquette is followed, which makes me feel even worse. I hate that I have a different relationship with the kitchen staff at different meals depending on who else is eating with us.

Although I am more desensitized to this practice than when I first arrived in Kerala, it still bothers me. I think it reinforces the unjust hierarchies of caste and gender that are very much a part of Indian culture that I know I will never be totally comfortable with. I don’t feel as though I am in any way better or more valuable a human being than those who serve me, yet I am obviously seen and treated as such. For a while, I was convinced that my discomfort resulted from the cultural differences of food service, that because this practice didn’t exist in the United States, part of my dislike must stem from the newness of the experience. After thinking about it though, I realized that this is wrong because we have the same attitudes and practices in the United States, it just looks a little different. I will use the Agnes Scott College dining hall as an example. When students go into the dining hall, they grab a plate and receive food from the servers and barely interact with them except to say how much or little they want of a particular food item. I would say that most students are not familiar enough with the staff to know their names. The students’ and faculty’s behavior towards these servers also reinforces unjust hierarchies of socio-economic class and, in many cases, race. Yet, we do not see much of a problem with this system and I would say that most people would not acknowledge that this problem exists.

So why do I find these unjust hierarchies so much more apparent and “wrong” in Kerala? I have a few guesses. One is that to me, an outsider, all Keralites look more or less the same. There are variations in skin tone, some Malayalis are darker or lighter than others (the politics of skin color here is a whole different beast), but to me they all still look like Malayalis. I don’t perceive a difference in the people I’m eating with and the people I’m being served by. In the United States, most of the people who served my food were either Latino or African American. There was a visible difference in the people serving and being served that closely tied in with American ideas of acceptable social hierarchy. Another reason is that there are very few servers in a Kerala dining experience as compared to the United States, and their interaction is different. In the States, we have embraced an assembly-line style of food service (a la college dining halls) that depersonalize the food servers. To get one meal at Agnes Scott 3 or 4 different people would often serve me. In Kerala, there are usually just one or two people that serve, so I have prolonged exposure. Also, because I live in the same place (Buchanan Institution or, earlier, Bishop Moore Hostel) as the server I encounter her more often; I am forced to build some sort of relationship with her. Once I’ve gotten to know her, it’s much harder for me to accept her serving me food. The American culture of serving does not allow for such easy interaction and necessity of relationships.

It’s amazing how living in a completely different culture has really opened my eyes in a new way to my own. My role here in Kerala is of an observer and commentator, not a changer, so I cannot change the culture of food serving. However, I can work against the unjustness of the system in small ways. I build relationships with the kitchen staff and make sure they know that I do not, in any way, think less of them. I say “please” and “thank you” (dayavayi and nanni in Malayalam) I can also try to take on some food serving myself to show to everyone else that I am an equal. When I get back to the United States, I will be able to work against the unjust system. I can be an advocate for those in the food service industry. I can strike up a conversation with my food servers in dining halls, I can say “please” and “thank you.” I can help to break unjust systematic hierarchies that were previously unrecognizable to me.

Christmastime in Kerala

Merry Christmas friends!

The month of December was one of transition for me, I had to move to a new site and begin forging new relationships. December was also the busiest month for me so far, between my work, Christmas services and visits; I rarely had a day for rest.

I have moved from Mavelikkara to the Kottayam metro area (Pallom to be exact) to Buchanan Institute Girl's Higher Secondary. Buchanan is a very old school that teaches girls from 5th standard to 10th standard, and now has an adjoining LP school for all children standards 1 through 4. Throughout December, I took free classes at the higher secondary school, getting to know the 900 students! Although I enjoyed interacting with college students at Bishop Moore, there was always a problem with motivation. Only some college students wanted to make an effort to learn English, the others just wanted to clown around. The girls at Buchanan have a great attitude about learning. They may be a little shy, but they are eager! My site supervisor and I finally worked out a more permanent schedule yesterday, and from now on I will be taking classes with 5th, 6th and 8th standards regularly, but finding other ways to engage with other standards as well. In my free time at the school I talked with the teachers, who are tickled pink to have me there. This school complex has a hostel, but they did not have a room ready to receive a permanent guest. Until all the necessary arrangements could be made, I was to live at Mandiram's Society* and commute to Buchanan every day, which is an adventure.

December is a crazy time for educational institutions because there are exams at the beginning of the month, and then preparing for Christmas programs for the remaining weeks before Christmas vacation. Every church, school and social club puts on a Christmas Carol Service, in which members sing songs, perform skits and dances, read scripture passages and listen to a Christmas message. The teachers at Buchanan, still admiring the foreigner in their midst, wanted me to choreograph a dance (despite my assertions that I knew nothing of this art form), sing a solo and teach some students an English song. My attempt at dance choreography was a spectacular failure (really a blessing as this duty was subsequently taken away from me) and there simply wasn't time for me to teach the students a song as I had to leave the school at 3:30pm every day to catch the bus back to Mandiram. I was also saved from having to sing a solo because the teacher in charge forgot to write me into the program. I did however help the girls practice dancing and singing--by watching and listening and saying "good job!"

The rest of my time in December was taken up by the Kerala Christmas experience. Christians in Kerala do not view Christmas as the most important Christian festival--that would be Easter and the Lenten season. However, they have developed some very unique Christmas traditions, one of which is the Carol Service. Like I said, most institutions in Kerala put on a Carol Service, which means that on any given day there will be at least 3 services within a 10 mile radius. I attended 10 services, none of which I could refuse invitations to. These services last anywhere from 2 to 3 hours; yes, you read that right, 2 to 3 HOURS of choirs singing, preachers preaching, scripture reading (mostly in Malayalam) and chair sitting. I did participate in the Mandiram service by singing Silent Night with the other volunteers (in 4 part harmony--impressive I know), and was asked to give the Christmas message at a local Marthoma college. Some services were very well rehearsed, theatrical and lively. Some were somber, some informal, some quite comical. After the service there was always a sponsored dinner, which was usually fried rice or biryani (although two services ended in Kappa my favorite food here), followed by plum cake. Plum cake is a traditional Christmas dessert that is similar to fruitcake but actually tasty.

Christmas decorations here are also different. Kerala has adopted the idea of a Christmas tree, but prefers to use trees that are still alive. Keralites hang these trees with multicolored tinsel decorations, balloons and a few small ornaments shaped like the head of Father Christmas. Very few people string lights on their houses, but everyone has a nakshathram, a Christmas star. These stars are made out of cardstock-like paper and are hung from every shop and house. At night, residents turn on the light bulbs inside and the multicolored glow shines on every porch. The stars are my favorite Christmas tradition here, and one I will be bringing back to the states. Some people also make pulkud--straw houses that contain a nativity scene. I was impressed at how detailed these pulkud were, with rock gardens, streams, trees and grasses surrounding the baby Jesus, his family and his admirerers.

The volunteers celebrated Christmas together in Aluva, at Thomas John Achen's house. We went fishing and paddle boating, exchanged small gifts, drank cider and spent time with Achen's family. Although we missed our families and friends back home, we were actually quite pleased with Christmas in Kerala.

(Final years from Bishop Moore Hostel in the Christmas tableau-->)

*Mandiram's Society is a great place, consisting of an old age home, a hospital, a girl's home and nursing school. In Kerala, most elderly citizens live with their children--old age homes are not very common. However, some families are too poor to take care of their elderly members, and they have no choice but to send them away. Mandiram's Society provides free room and board to these elderly men and women who have nowhere else to go. These Appachens and Ammachis love to chat, smile and laugh. Mandiram hospital provides free care to the poor and is considered to be one of the best hospitals in Kottayam, and its nursing school is also well respected. Within the past 10 years, they have also added a girl's home for those who have no family or whose family cannot support them. The society runs on donations, and staff is made up of priests and local seminary students. All the staff here are friendly and welcoming; they are also some of the funniest people I have met in India. I cannot be in their company 10 minutes without laughing. This is one of the oldest sites for the YAV India program, Tyler is this year's Mandiram volunteer.