Throughout my trip in India, I witnessed families living in impoverished, and often unsanitary, living conditions and heard many of their very personal stories. Many of these stories were emotional for both the person telling the story, as well as all of us who were listening. I conducted one-on-one interviews with people in these communities across several states in India. I also visited two NGOs; one helped slum dwellers lift themselves out of their conditions through English classes and career training, while the other helped acid attack victims regain their confidence and securely reenter their communities as productive members of society.
Through these visits, I came to the conclusion that although there were many factors that led to these people living in poverty, education was the primary way for them to break free of it and prevent it from becoming the inevitable future for their children. Everyone I spoke with had the very clear understanding that education was the most direct path to a better life. They all believed that by educating themselves, they would secure better employment opportunities. Through better jobs, they would be able to send their children to private schools. Since private schools in India devote more time than public schools do to the study of the English language, their children would be better qualified for higher-level job opportunities (including opportunities abroad), thereby breaking the cycle of poverty in their families. For these families, education is the key to upward mobility. The stories I heard throughout my trip that I shared on my blog helped me, and hopefully the reader, understand that although millions of people may live in similar impoverished conditions, every single one of them has the potential to accomplish a wide variety of great things. For example, in Dhobi Ghat, one woman’s daughter worked hard, went to college, and now works in a prestigious office job. Our guide in the Dharavi slum in Mumbai grew up in that slum and was now attending college and working for an NGO (Reality Gives) that helped people in his community. And Rupa from Sheroes, who was housebound for five years after her attack, was able to live in a supportive environment, train to become a clothing designer, and regain her sense of independence. Every day that I interviewed someone, there was a stereotype that was broken for me: people in impoverished communities go to college, people in impoverished communities have thriving international businesses, people in impoverished communities feel a strong sense of community and “belonging.” Through my one-on-one interviews, I have been able to retell people’s stories. I hope I have been able to replace the reader’s vague concept of “poverty” with these very personal stories of tragedy, ambition, and perseverance. I hope that I have successfully shown readers a glimpse into the lifestyles of those in multiple impoverished areas and that I have opened the readers’ eyes and refuted their misconceptions about people in poverty. I learned a lot about hardships and hard work from the people I interviewed throughout my trip, and I know that I have had some unforgettable experiences (which include my trips to the hospital). I hope these stories stay with the reader, as they will definitely stay with me.
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Today we drove from Delhi to Agra (site of the Taj Mahal) and visited Sheroes Hangout, a small café run by acid attack supporters and victims. I was able to interview a woman named Rupa who worked at Sheroes and who was an acid attack victim herself.
Sheroes provides a safe space for acid attack victims to come and regain their confidence through supportive peers so they can go back to their previous lives and follow their dreams. Very often, women who are acid attack victims don’t leave their homes for long periods of time (years!) because of their disfiguration; Rupa told me she didn’t go out in public for five years. Sheroes also works to create awareness about this common threat. Many attackers do not go to prison; the ones who do go to prison, however, stay there for a very short period of time (18 months for one attacker). In the café, a 15-minute “documentary” is continuously playing in which the women who work at Sheroes Hangout talk about how they were attacked. At the end of the video, one woman said that she wanted to ask her attacker why he had thrown acid in her face, and why he couldn’t express his emotions towards her using words rather than violence. So far, 20 women have been helped by Sheroes and they have all become more confident in their own bodies and are pursuing great things. Rupa, for example, designs clothing. Sheroes Hangout is something that has the potential to help many more acid attack victims in the future. I was surprised that I got this interview today. I didn’t think Rupa would want to be interviewed (or videotaped!), but she quickly agreed and seemed to really want to tell her story to me. There were times during our conversation when she spoke about what had happened to her that were very emotional for me, even though she presented it in a matter-of-fact way. Today I visited Sanjay Colony in Delhi. It is considered to be a small slum, as there are “only” 50,000 people. It was formed in 1969 on 25 acres of land.
I was unable to interview people and take pictures (to respect the privacy of the inhabitants) so I decided to take notes during the private tour. We started out by observing some women sort out scraps of cloth. We were told that they sort them by color, size, and quality, and then stitch them into clothing. The clothing is then sold back to companies. Each woman works for 8 hours each day and makes approximately $2. These women had received an education until they were 18 and then began working full time. I then learned about healthcare and sanitation in the slum. There are 10-12 clinics here and they commonly treat cough, cold, fevers, and diarrhea. People do not pay the doctor, but instead pay for medicine. The doctors are able to get discounts on medicine at pharmacies, which they are then able to sell for at a slightly higher price to people in this slum. Although there are 50,000 people in this slum, there are 200 Indian toilets for men and 200 for women. To use a “western-style” toilet, people pay 1 rupee; showers cost 2 rupees. In Sanjay Colony, 35% of people have their own toilets, but no one has their own shower. Our tour ended at a primary school. I learned that girls attend in the mornings and boys attend in the evenings. The school has 10 teachers who each teach 65 students. Students must attend regularly and have exams once they reach 6th grade. Families know that they must be educated and they know they must educate their kids so they can have a better life. For many people, school is also a place for kids to get a free meal each day. If students get good grades in 12th grade, they can get admitted into college. Less than 10% join “regular colleges,” meaning they simultaneously attend college and work to support their family. Just like all of my previous visits, education is the clear way to a better lifestyle. Education means more job opportunities, which implies more money and a family enjoying a better life. (It also leads to one’s kids being able to attend private schools rather than public). The day ended with me being sick for five hours and being rushed to the ER. My stomach was in pain constantly and two days later I was sick and, once again, was admitted into a second hospital’s ER (as well as the “Day Care” ward . . . even though I’m 18). The hospital visits could not have been more different. The first hospital I went to, Primus Hospital in New Delhi, was fairly empty. It was a “private” hospital (I was warned by the hotel not to go to a “public” hospital, as they are understaffed and very unsanitary). The doctor didn’t ask me any questions, check my pulse, or take my temperature. He did, however, draw blood -- and then performed no tests on it. I was also given IV fluids and I was eventually written a prescription for seven different medicines. The doctor was rude and didn’t seem as if he knew what to do, nor did he seem as if he wanted to do anything. The cost of the entire visit plus the medicine was around $40. The second hospital (also private), was larger and more modern but the people were far more attentive. After I walked into the hospital, I immediately had my temperature and blood pressure checked, and my finger pricked for blood testing. Back in the ER room, they sent my mother to reception to register me and prepay my visit (put down a 5000 rupee deposit against which all charges would be drawn) before they started treatment. After she brought the receipt to the doctors, they drew blood for testing. Then I was moved to the “Day Care” area where I was to be further treated. The nurse started an IV and we were told it would take 2-3 hours for the bag of fluid to be transferred. After 3 hours, the blood tests came back “normal,” and I was given fluids (all of which tasted horrible) to drink to see if I could keep from vomiting. My mother ran upstairs to the pharmacy to obtain and pay for the drugs (approx $20). She also paid for my visit at ER reception and brought the receipt to the doctor so that I could be discharged. I felt like I was being held as collateral. This visit cost approximately $130. Both hospitals felt very unclean; the bathrooms were gross (my mother described them as “train station bathrooms,”), there were bottles of medicine on the ER floor, and there were questionable stains on all surfaces. There are more than 2,000 slums in Mumbai. A slum is defined by the government of India as a house that is illegally built on government land. Of the 22 million people total in Mumbai, 55% (12-13 million people) live in slums.
Around 2000, the Indian government decided all homes built after the year 2000 would be demolished. The government gives the slums access to water and electricity, but the slum dwellers still must pay land tax (for the land that is covered by the home’s footprint only) plus water and electric bills (land tax is paid yearly and water and electric bills are paid monthly). There are redevelopment projects going on in slums that are received with mixed feelings. These government-built “apartment complexes” house multiple families and are often much smaller than the house the family previously had before relocation. Because of the size differences, some families lose crucial space, while others gain much more living space. Today I visited Dharavi slum, the largest slum in India. (Part of the movie “Slumdog Millionaire” was filmed on the outskirts of this slum.) Dharavi homes are legalized because the homes in the slum were built before 2000 (when slum policies were put in place). Dharavi has approximately 1 million residents and is the size of 500 soccer fields (or half of Central Park). Dharavi is not only different from other slums because of its enormous size, but it is also different because of its vast productivity. There are more than 20,000 businesses within this slum. The two main types of businesses are plastic recycling and leather making. In addition, aluminum recycling, clothes making, baking, and pottery businesses are very popular. Leather production in Dharavi is the second largest production of leather in all of India; 90% of the raw material and its products are exported to European countries. Other slums don’t have this type of productivity; the ones that are as productive are called “five star slums”. There is so much business within the slum that dwellers don’t have to venture out of Dharavi to purchase anything they might need for themselves, their families, or their homes. There are restaurants, doctor’s offices, schools, and bars. In fact, 40% of people in Dharavi are government servants. Not everyone in Dharavi is of the same income level; there are beggars who live among millionaires. The reason that the millionaires don’t move to a more sanitary area is because they would lose the sense of community and they may lose connections that they have made within the slum. One of the main problems that Dharavi faces is sanitation. Although the facilities are fairly clean, there are only 700 toilets for the 1 million residents of Dharavi. Because of all of the businesses in Dharavi, men and boys come from poorer farming regions to take up jobs and send money back home to their families. These workers don’t return home for several years (the average is 20 years). One boy I interviewed (age 17) said that he came from Utter Pradesh to provide for his family back home. He works from 9 am to 9 pm and separates plastic caps from bottles. The plastic is then washed thoroughly, left to dry on the roof, cut into small pieces by a machine, melted, stretched into a thin cord, and cut into pellets that are sold to companies for recycling into all different types of products. This process is hazardous to one’s health, and the workers don’t have masks to protect themselves from the fumes. Metal recycling is one of the more hazardous jobs. Families in Dharavi are aware that education is the key to succeeding in life. There are both public and private schools and many children study up until grade 12. One of the main differences in these two schools is that public schools teach Marati (the state language) and private schools teach English. Without education, children would have limited job opportunities. Even if it is for a few years, parents prioritize their children’s education. I realized that there are a lot of misconceptions about the conditions in which people in slums live in. I had the belief that the living conditions would be so much worse than what they actually are. The fact that there were businesses and clinics and restaurants shocked me because it means that, although there are issues such as unsanitary conditions, people have stable lives. They have food and schools and communities. And the dwellers are well aware that their best chance at a better life is through education. Although both of these days were “free days”, I thought a lot about my experience at the dhobi ghat.
When I interviewed the older woman, she asked me (through the translator) why I was interviewing people in her community. It was hard for me to tell her that it was because I wanted to help humanize the concept of poverty through the stories of those who were impoverished. I didn’t want to offend her so I tried to work my way around the truth. It was very emotional for me because I didn’t want to insult her, so I was stumbling around trying to find words to express my goals to her without making her feel bad. In the end, I teared up while talking to her (again, through the translator) and I just hope I got my point across. She was a really nice lady who had carved out a nice life for herself, put her daughter through college, and ultimately had a lot in her life she could be very proud of. It was hard to listen to the stories that people had told me because many of them were heartbreaking. Some people who I interview had goals and dreams that they were never able to achieve. Some had lost mothers and/or fathers, which caused them to drastically change the course of their own lives. I have spoken with many people these past few days and I have learned that Mumbai is a very safe city; Mumbai is consistently safer than New Delhi, the capital of India, especially for women. If this dhobi ghat were in New Delhi, these families (especially the females) would live different lives. This city is very safe and I think that that is one reason why the older woman’s daughter was able to work her way up to a college level. Location, it seems, can have an effect on the outcome of life events. Today I visited a dhobi ghat in Mumbai and I can certainly say that it was a very emotional experience. A dhobi ghat is essentially an open air laundromat comprised of several small businesses. Workers earned approximately $150 each month, meaning that these workers live below the poverty line (which is commonly defined as $100 per week).
Unlike villages around the world, men are the ones who do the washing because traditional methods of cleaning, ironing, and drying require strong muscles. The women care for the children, and they help mend clothes, sheets, etc. that need to be fixed. It is common for this line of work to be passed down through many generations. I was able to interview seven people from different age groups to understand a bit more about their lives. I first talked to three boys (ages 14 to 16) and asked them about their school and their hopes for their future. Although they lived in a dhobi ghat, their parents were not dhobis (they did not clean, dry, and/or iron clothing). Instead they were mechanics and drivers. This surprised me because I had the preconceived notion that everyone who lived there worked in the laundry business. These kids attended school, just like a few of their parents had done, and they wanted to do something with their lives; one wanted to be a soccer player in the U.S., and another wanted to move to Goa (which he claimed was his favorite city in India). In addition, they all wanted to attend college later in life. For those who live in a dhobi ghat, attending college is not common. I later learned from an older woman (age 49) that it is something that many families didn’t think about. This woman told us how she and her husband had sent their daughter to college even though she herself had received little education (up to an 8th grade level, her husband only until 5th grade). This woman told us about how she felt uncomfortable having her family from the U.S. come visit her because of their living conditions. When I asked her about how much she makes each week, she simply answered that it was at a level with which she was content. The remaining three men who I talked to (ages 17, 29, and 49) didn’t have the same opportunity as this woman’s daughter. Two of them received little education and were unable to pursue their dreams because members of their family had fallen ill. The other never had an education, causing him to never set any goals other than to help provide for his family by drying and delivering clothes, sheets, etc. It seemed as though education and lack thereof was something that held people back from achieving their dreams and working their way up in social status. Although everyone lives in the same area and has similar living conditions, some people’s lives are polar opposites. It surprised me that one woman was able to work her way up to an office job while another man was tied down to a lifestyle that is passed down through lineage. We arrived in India a few days ago in order to acclimate to the time zone (10-1/2 hour difference!). My first impression is that there are so many different classes of people, all going about their daily work in this very crowded country. There are people selling goods in shops or carts, others selling fruit or plastic tools as they sit on the side of the road.
The purpose of my Independent Study is to give others a better understanding of factors that lead into (and out of) poverty. To do this, I will conduct one-on-one interviews with people in poverty and visit NGOs to learn more about how they are helping those in need. I would like people to replace the vague concept of “poverty” in their minds with actual people’s faces and their stories. I will try to keep an online blog every day summarizing my interactions and experiences. |