Goodbye has inevitably arrived.  Its long awaited arrival has brought gifts of humbleness, compassion, and independence.  Here I am and here I go with faith in the process of hellos and goodbyes.  Goodbye, India.  Hello South Africa.

Still, feelings of bitter sweetness and surrealism consume my mind as I prepare for the next adventure.  Something as simple as a plane ride becomes my gateway to a new and exciting experience, moment, life.  My reality becomes the categorization of the past, present, and future.  India my past and South Africa my very near future.  And for the present — it lives in its own purgatory, fighting for the existence of both realms of the past and future.

This state of temporary madness causes the past few weeks to stir in my head.  My mind connects this with that, analyzes this, questions that, and ponders everything.  It bullies the rest of my body as all physicality fights to keep up.  Fighting the jet lag.  Fighting the weather conditions.  Fighting the sickness.  Fighting the need to sleep.  Yet my mind continues to grow, expand, and explore.  It needs not to fight any barriers.  It’s the one pushing me to keep going.  Temporary relief of my body’s contradiction only comes when writing.  So here I am, writing as my fingers become the newest victim of my brain’s wandering.  My mind thankfully settles into a steady pace as it chooses a topic of choice for my last post in India.  A topic that stirs up controversy, history, and oppression.  A topic that even Indian natives are unable to fully comprehend the consequences to.

Before I begin, I want to remind my listeners that my writing originates through the eyes of a female, an American, a student, and an outsider.  By no means do I claim to have a overarching understanding of the complications of the Indian culture, but I do claim the right to share my experiences and interpretations of what constituted my life for the last month.

So I dive in, and here I emerge, knee deep in a 3,000 year old system of oppression — the caste system.  The caste system is unique to the Indian sub-continent.  Although other oppressive hierarchies, based on uncontrollable factors, have existed across the world and across time.

The caste system has roots in the Hindu religion.  In which more than 80% of the Indian population claim to practice.  The religion’s core foundations teach special individuals were formed from a particular body part of the Hindu god, Brahma.  Each body part represent a certain status within the earthly society.  For instance, the priests and teachers of the Hindu population were said to have been born from the head of Brahma, the highest honor.  The warriors and rulers were born from the shoulder of the god.  The farmers, traders and merchants were born from the stomach.  And the laborers were born from the foot.  This foundational teaching of the religion created a social hierarchy, justified by faith and culture.  The caste system expanded past the Hindu religion and spread to other religions including Islam and Christianity in India.   Over time, people’s occupation no longer determined caste.  Today, people are born into a caste.  They remain in this particular caste for the rest of their life and then pass it down to their children.

To go over some basics, the first three caste tiers are called Brahmins, Kshatriyas, and Vaishyas — born from the three highest places on the body.  These three tiers constitute the upper caste.  The lowest tier is called Shudras.  These four castes are born from the god Brahma and so deserve the corresponding respect and dignity paralleling this official status.  Then there are people who are considered the least pure in status.  They have not been birthed from the god Brahma.  These people make up what is called the scheduled caste.  This is the politically correct term for the Dalit caste, Untouchables, and tribal individuals.  The majority of the Indian population is part of this scheduled caste.

All of these individuals were deemed “untouchable” by the government, by religion, by society.  The scheduled caste was not permitted to use the same silverware as the upper caste.  They were segregated from the rest of the world because their “impure” bodies would contaminate the upper caste’s so called hygienic and luxurious life.  Culture decided the majority of the population did not deserve to be treated like a human because of a social label.  The scheduled caste became victim to horrendous and heinous crimes because of the nation’s caste hierarchy.  Massacre of the unarmed Untouchables in their homes became justified.  Rape of Untouchables became justified.  Brutalization and abuse of Untouchables became justified.  Police turned a blind eye well thousands suffered.  All justified through the caste system.

In 1950, the Indian government abolished the practice of “untouchability”.  It is 68 years later, and here I am, visiting a country with a rich history of violent inequity.  And 68 years later, the stigma and physical violence against the scheduled caste has decreased tremendously.  Nevertheless, I argue structural violence against the scheduled caste still exists.  It is perpetuated by institutions repressing the social rights of a large portion of the population.  This top down systemic violence causes a normalization of oppression and persecution for people of the scheduled caste.  History explains the present, so it is important to understand the context of the caste system.  I remind myself this as I try to understand the perspective of an upper caste, upper class individual who so blatantly told me that if you are educated in the least bit, you know the caste system does not exist.  But, here, I write out my contradiction to this statement. 

Today, more than 98% of manual laborers in India are people of the Dalit caste.  To illustrate the day of a Dalit worker as a manual laborer, I describe the job of a sewage worker.  In nothing more than a t-shirt and khaki pants, they are lowered into an underground pool of shit.  They submerge every inch of their body into the city’s cumulation of poop, piss, and toilet paper.  Diving into this disgusting mess of feces, they are forced to unclog the sewage pipes.  Two to three individuals die a day doing this work.  Yet, the caste system does not exist.

I had the opportunity to talk to an individual who worked at the National Dalit Campaign for Human Rights.  This individual was an advocate and activist for the Dalit community.  He was able to overcome persecution from his own country and climbed the economic ladder while still inevitably remaining at the bottom of the social ladder as a Dalit.  He now has a master’s degree in sociology and continues to fight for Dalit human rights every day.  His life trajectory, nonetheless, is much easier said than done.  He grew up during a time of post-abolition “untouchability” laws.  Yet, still labeled as a Dalit, he faced incredible instances of prejudice and bigotry.

He had successfully completed his senior year of high school.  This in itself is a great feat for someone of the Dalit caste.  Too often they are forced to drop out because they can no longer withstand the mental and physical abuse they receive from upper caste classmates and teachers.  Or too often their family decides the child will contribute more to the family by dropping out of school and working instead.  This was not the case for this determined student.   During the last week of his schooling, his teacher informed him he would be graduating as top student in the class.  He would graduate as Valedictorian.  When he read the list of names posted on the school wall, to his surprise his name had been printed next to number two.  The school refused to have a Dalit as their Valedictorian.  The school refused to let a Dalit represent their academics.  His studies, effort, determination, and intelligence had been invalidated because of a societal label.  Yet, caste does not exist.

During our week long visit to the rural Indian district of Bahriach, we stayed in the neighborhood’s private elementary school.  Here, a Dalit cleans the bathrooms.  He has worked as the school’s janitor for 4 years and has worked for the community municipal building as a street cleaner for 9 years.  Nine years ago, his family asked him to stop attending school and to instead find a job.  At the age of 14, he was the only one in a house of two parents and 4 children who brought in an income.  In 9 years at the municipal building, never has he received a promotion.  In 9 years, never has he received a raise.  I asked him, “do you feel your job compensates you fairly for the work you do?”.  I watched as he took a moment to comprehend the translator’s interpretation of my question.  His eyes shifted as his lips created foreign sounds unfamiliar to me.  Then, the translator spoke, “Anything they give me, I am thankful for.”  I stood in shock as I attempted to digest his heartbreaking response.  He doubts his ability because his employer, school, society, religion, and government have all told him he is nothing.  He is replaceable.  He is unsuccessful.  He is not a worthy member of the Indian society.  Structural violence has shattered his self-confidence and his self-worth.  Systems and institutions all play a role in oppressing his life.  He has lived in a state of structural violence for so long he sees no path towards opportunity.  Yet, caste does not exist.

Bahriach

The caste system does not exist, but no one I talked to married outside of their caste.  The caste system does not exist, but official government forms still ask for your caste.  The caste system does not exist, but Dalits are still experiencing structural violence every day.

We’re six weeks into the program and in six weeks my life has been turned on its head.  My standards of normal have been challenged.  My culture has been ignored as a new one forcefully replaced it.  And the funny part is, it’s happening again today as I move to South Africa.  And then again, in one month when I move to my final country of Brazil.  But this is what I asked for.  I asked for a challenge and an adventure.  By all means, I have not been disappointed.

It’s been seven days.  Seven days that have simultaneously flown by and dragged on.

To give you some background, I arrived in India on Monday.  Our program is based in India’s capital, New Delhi.  This post is a regurgitation of the plethora of information I have learned over the past week.  This information has spun the wheels in my head and reaffirmed my love for public health.  While sharing, I did my best to remain partial.  By neither categorizing aspects of the Indian culture as right or wrong, I attempted to write and understand from a perspective of historical particularism — understanding that a country’s current systems, culture, and social norms are shaped by its unique history and development.  With this being said, my perspective is very limited.  By no means do I have a complete understanding of India’s history, community, and traditions.  Nonetheless, I still want to expand on my experiences of a new normal.  I hope I am able to do justice to the complicatedly beautiful culture that is the Indian culture.  

These two pictures are of a tourist hotspot in New Delhi called Delhi Haat.  The markets here are scattered with a beautiful spectrum of colorful clothing and trinkets.

I start with my first topic: women.  This is my starting point because it is the topic I choose to be a little more flexible regarding my partiality.  As a woman within this program, I was instructed to cover my shoulders, chest, legs, and at times my hair.  Respectfully, I have and will continue to abide by this cultural norm.  Nonetheless, despite me being completely covered up in temperatures reaching beyond 100 degrees, I have never been more aware of my gender.  I have been told to not look a man in their eyes, for it can be construed as you initiating sex.  I have been told to not smile at a man, that too can be construed as you, a woman, initiating sex.  It is the woman who must alter her behaviors to best contain the sexuality of a man.  It is the woman who must cover up.  It is the woman who must be invisible.  These cultural norms perpetuate the ideology of women inferiority.  

Nonetheless, I am aware and proud that India is progressing in a new direction.  Young adult women are occasionally spotted in freely dressed clothing, confidently paving a new direction of education, equality, and feminine authority.  Nonetheless, strict changes need to me made to society in order to create an environment where females feel safe, able, and accepted — this includes but is not limited to India.  

I move on to discuss the beautifully chaotic city of New Delhi.  The hustle and bustle of the city is what makes it unique.  I enjoy being thrown into a place that is so different from any other place I have ever been.  The population of the entire metropolitan area of New Delhi is about 24 million people.  To put this into perspective, the population of the entire United States is around 324 million people.  Needless to say, it’s a crowded city.  Two lane roads are turned into four lane roads with cars, motorcycles, and rickshaws creating their own road rules.  Food stands, vendors, cows, dogs, and monkeys all compete for a place in the city.  

You have not experienced the true Indian culture if you haven’t had a near death experience in a rickshaw.

These are only a sneak peek into the many friends you will encounter walking the streets of Delhi!

This weekend, we traveled to the Taj Mahal.  The Taj Mahal is a beautiful memorial commissioned by a Mongolian King in the 1600s to honor his deceased wife.  This wonder of the world was breathtaking.  However, what shocked me the most was our drive to the Taj Mahal.  Staying in New Delhi, I have experienced the urban lifestyle.  However, during the 4 hour drive to the Taj Mahal, I was able to experience the rural lifestyle — even if it was just through a bus window.  I saw countless farming families.  Their fields flooded with water from the monsoon season’s storms.  Cows and dogs scattered across the land.  And to call their homes shacks would unfortunately glorify the structures.  These homes were held up by wooden sticks with thatched roofs and tarp walls.  I saw a father and son duo showering in the rain.  They stood by the road, in soapy clothes, as they rinsed their shampooed hair with the rain fall.  It was quite a humbling experience to be grateful for my homestay’s bucket showers that consists of four walls and hot water.  

This is an example of the stark contrast of the close living proximities of both the middle and lower class.  This was snapped from the metro.

In seven days, I have seen the stark contrast of the urban versus the rural.  The rich versus the poor.  The developed country of the United States versus the developing country of India.  In India, structures, institutions, and globalization have caused the gap between the rich and poor to grow.  Because of the recent switch to a market based economy, India’s GDP has grown by 6% in the past few years.  Nonetheless, these economic benefits have been concentrated to only 6-8% of the population — consisting mainly of the upper class, the educated, and males.  In present day India, 100 people control 27% of India’s GDP.  As part of a group of intelligent students, my peers and I look to be an educated and appropriate voice for the marginalized.  But our program coordinator of India reminds us “you are here to learn, not to change things.  Finish your education.  Then come back to see me, so we can change things together.”  And this, my friend, is what keeps me on the edge of my seat.

I couldn’t finish this post without adding a cliche tourist picture of me at the Taj Mahal.  The World Wonder was beautiful and breathtaking!

I’m currently sitting 3,500 miles above the world.  Above the people and the animals.  Above the passing trains, cars and buses.  But my concentration, instead, is on the clouds.  The clouds that seem so endless and infinite in a sky just as vast.  As I sit in this state of existentialism, my body flies to India while my mind remains in America.  My mind — filled with American customs, norms and Westernized idealisms of health — is about to experience the culture shock of one of the fasting developing countries in the world: India.  

After two weeks of living in a hostel in the hip and trendy town of Adams Morgan, it is time to say goodbye to D.C., and hello to New Delhi!

The last night of Washington, D.C. was spent exploring the city’s monuments with a fellow Richmond student on the sister track of my program.  The monuments are a completely different experience at night.  If you get the chance, go and check it out yourself!

But I digress to my last week in Washington, D.C., simply because during a time of venturing into the unknown, focusing on something concrete and wholesome steadies my mind.    

Across America, food is passed out, yet hunger still remains.  Jobs are available, yet people still can’t afford rent.  Shelters are open, yet people still sleep on the streets.  These Band-Aid approaches to health are not enough to stimulate long-term physical and mental health.  Many organizations narrow their aid to one specific focus.  It’s an incredibly complicated situation, because people have immediate needs and these needs must be met, but narrow-minded help is a temporary solution to a permanent problem.  Nonetheless, the city of Washington, D.C. has paved a new path of holistic care for its citizens.  

To help illustrate this example, I cite the streamlined and progressive non-profit of D.C. Central Kitchen (DCCK).  Their mission is to limit food waste and help lift people out of poverty.  Their motto is “Food alone will never end hunger.  Jobs will.”  With this in mind, DCCK takes many active roles within the community.  Everyday, they cook over 5,000 meals to distribute to homeless shelters and half-way houses.  They also provide a 14-week culinary arts training program for the unemployed.  The training program is for marginalized individuals with a history that typically stigmatizes them out of the job market.  This includes people who are homeless, were previously incarcerated, without a high school diploma and/or struggle with addiction.  

DCCK views poverty through multiple lenses of social determinisms which enables them to have a holistic view on health.

My fascination with the program lies in its ability to treat the whole individual.  To provide support for the individual’s immediate needs while also creating a platform of stability and advancement for the future.  The culinary training has many aspects including cooking and kitchen skills but also focuses on self-empowerment and financial planning.  Rehabilitation teaches the students to believe in their worth and purpose within the larger community — something they have forgotten after years of being ostracized.  During the last stage of the program, students are assigned to an internship within a local restaurant or catering company so they can grasp what it truly takes to work in the culinary world.  Each step of the program creates one more building block to a healthy and stable life.  

However, all of these steps would be irrelevant if the students did not have the basic needs of survival.  Because without food, you cannot be productive in the kitchen.  Without a roof over your head, you cannot focus on your studies.  And without money for transportation, you cannot arrive to the designated location for learning.  Therefore, DCCK goes one step further to insure these individuals are supported throughout the training program.  The non-profit supplies its constituents with groceries weekly.  They help to organize living arrangements for the individuals.  And they also provide students with a transportation stipend.  

The cost of this program is not cheap.  However, its statistics show the programs’ funding and mission is paying off.  There is a 85% graduation rate.  There is a 90% job placement rate within one month of graduation.  And after a two year followup, 70% of the graduates are still employed long term.  These individuals now have full-time jobs, health insurance and permeant housing.  They contribute social and economic capital to America.  A holistic approach to health is the cure to a long standing and perpetuating cycle of poverty.  

So I urge you to stop the stigma.  Stop the marginalization.  Because the homeless and the jobless are typically not lazy.  In fact, 70% of the homeless population in the United States have jobs, showing they don’t suffer from laziness.  They suffer from a lack of livable wage and affordable housing.  They want to help themselves.  They want to better their lives and their family members.  However, the one-size fits all model for health and wellbeing does not work.  Instead, organizations and programs intended to help the impoverished, the hungry and the jobless need to bring care to the individual and not the individual to care.