We piled onto the train for our 45 minute journey to rural India. Sitting in a packed carriage we rehearsed our rendition of ‘Stand by me’ to perform as our token piece for the evening of cultural entertainment we had ahead. It’s clear that not many of us can sing and the nerves and apprehension of what the next 24 hours would hold was beginning to show. Ten of us were about to spend an afternoon and a night in a tribal village, sleeping in the homes of families kind enough to accommodate us in their tiny mud huts.
Tribal Indians are marginalised, they live in government built mud huts and tend to work for local farmers in bond work with little prospect of ever becoming free from their employer or debt. We would be meeting our Quest Fellows who are part of this community and are helping address the difficulties that the community faces.
We arrived at the small village and gathered under a large tree where we were greeted by the villagers and then split into three small groups to visit other villages around the area. I remained in the village we were staying in and we were given the full tour. There were no more than 40 houses, 10 TVs, 3 loos and a well a mere eight minute walk away. The houses were powered by stolen electricity through a mass of cables and wires dangling dangerously at head height. Some worked for the local farmer, growing crops and farming ostriches, some had been more entrepreneurial and set-up a small business renting out wedding kit, which included two very large speakers and two very large decorative chairs.
We took a leisurely stroll to the near-by river to cool off our feet and returned just in time to join the boys playing cricket. They kindly let the girls join in before we got back to business and met with our fellow Poonam to hear her story. She’s single handedly managed to apply for ration cards for 35 people (doubling the amount that held them), challenge the shop on the amount they were meant to be given and increased it from 25kilos to 35kilos a month, and has persuaded the local government to open a shop in the village so they don’t have to walk 9km to pick up the grain. Poonam didn’t look older than 2o.
The other participants returned and we were taken to our homes for the night. Jayma and I met the family we were going to spend the night with: husband, wife, 18month old they’d adopted from the husband’s late brother and the mother-in-law, an old lady in a white sari wearing large black rimmed glasses with lenses as thick as milk bottles. We communicated through a translator and before we could blink the hut (no more than 4 by 6 meters) was full of small children, extended family and villagers all curious to see what was going on. Family photos had been shared and conversation was quickly running out, so I turned to my trusted friend – the iPhone and put my favorite apps to use ‘Fatbooth’ and ‘baldbooth’, which turns photos of people either fat or bald. I now have endless pictures of fat or bald Indians on my phone and hilarious memories of hysterical laughter. Who needs a translator!
We ate food cooked by the community and briefly practiced our song, nerves were beginning to really show now – how could we compete with ‘cultural entertainment’? Should we have practiced some Morris Dancing? Was ‘Stand by me’ really the best song? …too late now, we didn’t know the words to anything else and we were moments away from performing. To our relief Li Qiang, a participant from China, announced he’d be happy to sing a Chinese song and Emily (choir member extraordinaire) was happy to sing most of it solo. We sat and we waited and we waited, apparently the band were still practicing. Finally, as the village and all those who lived within 10miles gathered on a giant tarpaulin spread in front of the village hall, the band arrived. Well…one man on an oboe/recorder/trumpet arrived and sat himself down on a white plastic chair in front of the awaiting crowed. The first note hit us like a dying cat and by the fifth the villagers and us were collapsed with giggles. An old man sat down with a drum to try and help out but he was so old he struggled to hold the drum and use it at the same time; another, younger man, came and took the drum off him and pulled up a chair – this guy had some talent but the old man remained seated and looked furious. Oboe/recorder/trumpet player #2 arrived and played beautifully, making oboe/recorder/trumpet #1 very angry, he stopped playing and took his instrument apart but it didn’t seem to fix the problem. Anger over-came him and he stormed off to put on the PA machine. The previously mentioned ‘for rent’ wedding speakers blasted out with a loud crack Bollywood tunes played with a white-noise backing. Our nerves had not only washed away, they’d been replaced with an air of confidence! Our rendition of ‘Stand by me’ was no longer enough, we sang ‘Swing low, sweet chariots’ incorporating a downward swinging arm movement and other ad lib actions, Emily sang Louis Armstrong’s ‘What a wonderful World’ and Li Qiang gave his rendition of a Chinese comedy love song. We rode out our high dancing with the locals and exchanging ‘cultural’ moves!
Bed time finally came and Jayma and I headed to our hut. The 15 people we left there hours earlier were still there and our bed, a small quilt padded out with a rug, had been laid out on the floor. Still no sign of the people leaving Jayma and I brushed our teeth outside and came back in. Still no sign of movement we laid our sleeping sheets on the floor and got in. We lay there for 30 minute and still no one left, if anything more people had arrived! Bollywood played on the tiny TV in the corner and Jayma and I began to wonder if anyone in the village slept, the music was still playing loudly outside and the children were still running around. Sometime after midnight people started leaving and another rug was laid out next to ours. Husband, wife and child bedded down beside us, still dressed in their day clothes and granny slept outside by the door. It was hot, humid and dusty but we slept.
We got up at 5am and loaded ourselves onto the bus with stories of sleeping arrangements and new found friendships with farm animals! Our trip had been a huge success, our insight into the local community, living conditions and family life was an experience that each one of us will never forget. We were welcomed into the community with open arms but left feeling part of it, we’d bridged huge divides on both sides and learnt so much from each other. I am sure these relationships will continue to grow and develop into the future.