Although there's still more work to be done, the realization that this adventure is coming to end is intruding on each day I have left. Of course I miss my friends, and Chipotle, but otherwise the thought of leaving this place and returning to a frozen boat, broke, in the midst of the scramble for work that is February in New York turns my stomach a little.
I wrote a while ago about the hospitality of this place. That everywhere we go we are stopped by people coming up to us and saying things like, "You're a guest here in India." It hit me last night that this has been happening less and less. We're now able to sit on a curb without a mob of people surrounding us until the cops brake it up. We can go to dinner without someone interupting us to welcome us, or tell us to call if there's any problem, or buy us a bottle of whiskey. I'm not saying there was every anything wrong with all that. I figure that this calming of the crowds has naturally happend for one simple reason. We are no longer guests in the town of Chembur, we are residents. We intruded on this town, full of people living their lives amidst the chaos of honking auto rickshaws and motorcycles, barking strays, and yelling flute salesmen. They took us in. And despite the first entry I wrote, we belong.
I know I will be back here. I know the ride from the airport will be comfortable next time, familiar. The orange glow of the air and the smell of dirt and burning trash will bring a smile to my face. The giant pillars supporting the invisible overpass may have made some progress, or maybe not. The scaffolding that climbs to nothing on the sidewalk will still stand proud, made by hand out of wood and rope. Dump trucks rolling by and dogs chasing motorcycles. Then the sun will come up, and it will be morning in Chembur.
I originally titled this entry "Coming Home," but after another look it didn't seem appropriate. What's the difference between "going home" and "coming home?" I suppose it's the destination. And perhaps when I return to Chembur, whenever that may be, I can title that entry "Coming Home."
-Brennan
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Surprising Results
I knew coming here that we would find a problem. I was sure that people had cavities and that they needed to brush. But after more than 2 weeks of screening and research I have been blown away by the findings. The people here are terribly sick because of their bad teeth. Not like a cold or a cough, they are in need of urgent care. If we were in the states they would be on iv antibiotics and sedated. This is a MAJOR global health concern. An epidemic.
We’ve been calling this the Masked Infection because people are running around seemingly happy on the outside yet sick and hurting on the inside. Britt truly believes that oral health is an infectious disease and that people’s oral condition is hurting their systemic health. And she’s truly got me on board. These people have such decayed teeth that the nerves themselves are showing! Can you imagine chewing on an open nerve multiple times a day for the rest of your life? Just the pain itself can break down the body.
It is proven that the effects of prolonged exposure to pain can hinder long term functions and raise cardiovascular risks long term.
Britt has been using a number system (0,1,2) to classify the people she is screening. This is a common practice in dental research I’m told. A 0 means there are no urgent problems, plaque build up etc. falls under a 0. A 1 refers to a pressing issue that is not currently an emergency but will turn into one if no action is taken. A 2 means urgent care is necessary. Rush them to the hospital.
With this system, Britt has found shocking results. 47% of a 148 child sampling was listed as a 2, and 36% were a 1. But with their environment and track record, the majority of the children in the 1 category will be a 2 in a very short amount of time. That means that 83% of the people in this region are in need of serious attention and are hurting their quality of life everyday that this continues.
It so sad to feel like there is nothing that can be done, but the fact is that this stuff takes time. It’s too much for one dentist at one time. There needs to be a movement in order to prevent this from happening. Those who are already affected are in the category of “Too Late”. All that can be done is prevention for the next generation. This is a career long effort that Britt has begun, and I’m so excited to be part of it. These people need her. Smile and all.
Andrew
We’ve been calling this the Masked Infection because people are running around seemingly happy on the outside yet sick and hurting on the inside. Britt truly believes that oral health is an infectious disease and that people’s oral condition is hurting their systemic health. And she’s truly got me on board. These people have such decayed teeth that the nerves themselves are showing! Can you imagine chewing on an open nerve multiple times a day for the rest of your life? Just the pain itself can break down the body.
It is proven that the effects of prolonged exposure to pain can hinder long term functions and raise cardiovascular risks long term.
Britt has been using a number system (0,1,2) to classify the people she is screening. This is a common practice in dental research I’m told. A 0 means there are no urgent problems, plaque build up etc. falls under a 0. A 1 refers to a pressing issue that is not currently an emergency but will turn into one if no action is taken. A 2 means urgent care is necessary. Rush them to the hospital.
With this system, Britt has found shocking results. 47% of a 148 child sampling was listed as a 2, and 36% were a 1. But with their environment and track record, the majority of the children in the 1 category will be a 2 in a very short amount of time. That means that 83% of the people in this region are in need of serious attention and are hurting their quality of life everyday that this continues.
It so sad to feel like there is nothing that can be done, but the fact is that this stuff takes time. It’s too much for one dentist at one time. There needs to be a movement in order to prevent this from happening. Those who are already affected are in the category of “Too Late”. All that can be done is prevention for the next generation. This is a career long effort that Britt has begun, and I’m so excited to be part of it. These people need her. Smile and all.
Andrew
Friday, January 14, 2011
Missing a Motive
A few days ago, in the slum of Shivaji Nagar, Bakes and I were shooting a little bit of b-roll as everyone else walked ahead. There is brown standing water throughout the slum, all of which is filled with trash and swarmed by flies. As we were rolling on some of the water, a kid about 5 years old walked straight into our shot, reached into the water, pulled out a pink sandal, put it on his foot, and walked away. Thrilled about the shot that we just got I explained what had happened to my sister. Her response was immediately to talk about how terrible the situation was and how many diseases that kid could get from the water. I of course, thought it was a great shot for the documentary. Jokingly, she said, "That's because you exploit people and I actually care." I know she was kidding and doesn't believe that that's true. However the last few days I've really been trying to figure out exactly why I'm here.
The only thing that is clear to me is that I'm trying to make the best piece I can make. Why? That's what I'm trying to find out. Is it because I'm trying to help my sister further her career? Is it because I'm actually trying to help these desperate people in the only way I know how? Is it simply that I want to shoot something beautiful? Am I viewing India from a 50mm lens, where everyone is a subject and nothing is real, unaffected by the sadness and misfortune that plagues the slum where I spend my days? I wonder if I'm missing this place, if I'm too focused on a project. I know that I have been touched here, and I know that I've been changed. But maybe the situation these people live in, the fresh human feces that bake in the sun on the sidewalk, the drinking water that has to be strained of worms before consumption, the smell of burning trash, the bleeding goat carcass fresh off the blade that hangs from a hook in Ahraf's friend's shop, the dirt floating in the air so thick it hides the stars and almost the sun itself, maybe the situation these people live in is too much for me to take in. Maybe my project is a coping technique. Maybe I hide behind headphones because I don't want to hear these people struggle and beg for help. Or maybe I want to help, in the only way I know how. Or maybe I'm just a white kid from Colorado, who grew up next to snow-capped mountains, instead of mountains of trash, filth, and disease.
-Brennan
The only thing that is clear to me is that I'm trying to make the best piece I can make. Why? That's what I'm trying to find out. Is it because I'm trying to help my sister further her career? Is it because I'm actually trying to help these desperate people in the only way I know how? Is it simply that I want to shoot something beautiful? Am I viewing India from a 50mm lens, where everyone is a subject and nothing is real, unaffected by the sadness and misfortune that plagues the slum where I spend my days? I wonder if I'm missing this place, if I'm too focused on a project. I know that I have been touched here, and I know that I've been changed. But maybe the situation these people live in, the fresh human feces that bake in the sun on the sidewalk, the drinking water that has to be strained of worms before consumption, the smell of burning trash, the bleeding goat carcass fresh off the blade that hangs from a hook in Ahraf's friend's shop, the dirt floating in the air so thick it hides the stars and almost the sun itself, maybe the situation these people live in is too much for me to take in. Maybe my project is a coping technique. Maybe I hide behind headphones because I don't want to hear these people struggle and beg for help. Or maybe I want to help, in the only way I know how. Or maybe I'm just a white kid from Colorado, who grew up next to snow-capped mountains, instead of mountains of trash, filth, and disease.
-Brennan
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
A Still Hand Waiting
Gender differences here remind me of America before the civil rights movement. There are separate lines, separate train cars, and separate social habits. I can count the amount of women I’ve spoken to on one hand. Honestly, it’s sad. Yet, if the women of this country felt the same as I do, wouldn’t there be an uprising? A movement? Is it a bomb waiting to explode—ticking away every night they can’t go out with their friends, or every marriage that is arranged? Or is it just another day in what will inevitably the continuation of a culture so intertwined with religion that it’s suffocating at the thought of free will? It’s hard to come from a family of strong women and feel like so many here have no voice. Literally silenced.
Just today while moving locations, I see a Muslim beggar on the street. A black vale covering her entire face, and the only skin breaking into the air is a steady hand—impressively still—awaiting a single coin by a passerby. Not a word from her mouth. Not even while begging may she show her face. I stop for a moment and wonder, what brought her to this point? Had she been able to speak up long ago when she very well had a voice, before she could understand it was wrong to have her own opinions, before the childhood wore off and the adult had to step in line, would she have changed her route? Maybe school or work? And if someone does place money in that hand, where does it go? Are there children wrapped into the equation? Mouths to feed other than her own? And yet, I pass. As do thousands of others every day. And she sits—a still hand waiting in silence.
Andrew
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Here are some photos
Here's a few photos from the first week. There are many, many more where these came from. No theme, just some random shots.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Highs and Lows
The days are long and this environment is so fast-paced and chaotic that it makes New York City seem like a retirement home in Florida. I'm completely exhausted every night and with only one computer it's really hard to keep up with the blog because we're dumping footage, synching sound, etc. every night. I'm a few days behind on the blog and by now the days have all blurred together. So here are some highlights and lowlights that stick out in my mind.
A few days ago we went into the field for the first time. We were lead by two students into the slum Shivaji Nagar. Our plan that day was not really to shoot, but to just scope out our environment so we'd be prepared for the next day. We shot. We shot everything we could. Bakes had the camera speeding most of the time we were there, I was rolling sound, and Andrew kept his eyes open for shots we needed to grab. I know I'm not going to be able to explain what it was like shooting in this environment so hopefully our footage will speak for me. The alley is so narrow, the seven of us could not stand next to each other. There are kids, some fully clothed, some completely naked, none with shoes, running around and sneaking up to investigate us. As word spread that Brittany was a dentist, people began gathering around and opening their mouths. In the mean time we were trying to force our camera and microphone into the circle in a crowded alley. Eventually the translator said there are too many people, and it is becoming too dangerous. So we left, planning to go to a medical clinic in the slum that afternoon. The clinic was one of the lows for me.
We arrived at the clinic and were immediately told if we didn't put our camera away, it would be confiscated. We agreed, hung tight for a few minutes, then pulled out the flipcam. Brittany was screening children ages 0-5 at the clinic that afternoon which is very important for her work and our doc. There was no way we weren't going to shoot it. So bakes held the flipcam, wrapped in a bandana, right behind a notebook he was scribbling in. I stuck the tip of the microphone out of the bag and began rolling. Hopefully we got some usable footage, but it was disheartening not to be able to shoot such an important moment.
High: Mornings in Mumbai. Perfect temperature, a mild breeze, less noise, cleaner sky than in the evening after a day of city hustle.
Low: Traveler's Diarrhea. Oh it happened. To me. Not the best night of my life, but I was over it half way through the next day.
Low: Tata Institute. We have been less than impressed with the institute Brittany and her team are working out of. They give little to no information to the girls and they have still not provided a translator, or access to a school in the slum.
High: Meeting with the girls and deciding it's time to go out on our own, leave the institution behind and hit the slums. Andrew, Bakes and I went out and found a translator the very next day. A couple nights before, Bakes and I had met a priest at a local fish market while buying some fish for the hotel room (great pets so far by the way). We went to his church and after the long, beautiful tour, and of course tea and biscuits, we asked him if he could help with a translator. He left the room, and five minutes later Ida Fernandes walked in. She came to the church looking for work. She’s a Marathi teacher, which is the language they speak in the slum. Considering there are thousands of current languages spoken in India, it’s a miracle that she teaches the Marathi to children, and that she came to the church to find work at the same time we were there looking to employ someone. And Father Frankie’s beautiful church was a great setting for that little miracle.
We spent two days shooting B-roll in South Mumbai. It’s a wealthier and more touristy part of town. We took a train and once again, I’ve never seen anything like it. People are packed in so tightly that they hang out the doors on both sides. They hold on to metal rings hanging from the ceiling, and each stop is a mosh pit of people forcing their way on and off the train. But just like driving here, there is no hostility with the extreme aggression, it’s just the only way to get anywhere in a country with the population density of India.
We got great B-roll, but the exhaustion has hit us. We’ve been working non-stop, and although we love it, we’ve had a few moments here and there where we’re at each other’s throats. But five or ten minutes later we’re laughing again. Not a day goes by where I don’t say, “I love it here.”
The hospitality is beyond words. Everywhere we go people stop us, “You are a guest here in India,” they say. “Welcome to my country.” “You have any problems, call me.” As you can see by the last video we posted it is often that we are surrounded by locals, curious to see what the white people are doing. On the flip side, everyone wants something from you here. Andrew already got had once, and we’ve definitely had trouble finding the line between hospitability, and falling in to debt with someone.
I know I’ve forgotten so much, but the next blog will be a slew of photos and pictures. They tell a better story anyway. As for now, it’s another perfect morning in India, and we have work to do. We’re meeting with the translator in 20 minutes and it’s our first real day of shooting the meat of our story. More adventures to come....
Oh I almost forgot. We went to get a cup of coffee yesterday and ended up riding an elephant down the street in our neighborhood. No tourist stuff, just a kid on an elephant collecting bananas and other “elephant gifts,” taking us on a ride down the streets of Chembur. I told you I love it here.
- Brennan
A few days ago we went into the field for the first time. We were lead by two students into the slum Shivaji Nagar. Our plan that day was not really to shoot, but to just scope out our environment so we'd be prepared for the next day. We shot. We shot everything we could. Bakes had the camera speeding most of the time we were there, I was rolling sound, and Andrew kept his eyes open for shots we needed to grab. I know I'm not going to be able to explain what it was like shooting in this environment so hopefully our footage will speak for me. The alley is so narrow, the seven of us could not stand next to each other. There are kids, some fully clothed, some completely naked, none with shoes, running around and sneaking up to investigate us. As word spread that Brittany was a dentist, people began gathering around and opening their mouths. In the mean time we were trying to force our camera and microphone into the circle in a crowded alley. Eventually the translator said there are too many people, and it is becoming too dangerous. So we left, planning to go to a medical clinic in the slum that afternoon. The clinic was one of the lows for me.
We arrived at the clinic and were immediately told if we didn't put our camera away, it would be confiscated. We agreed, hung tight for a few minutes, then pulled out the flipcam. Brittany was screening children ages 0-5 at the clinic that afternoon which is very important for her work and our doc. There was no way we weren't going to shoot it. So bakes held the flipcam, wrapped in a bandana, right behind a notebook he was scribbling in. I stuck the tip of the microphone out of the bag and began rolling. Hopefully we got some usable footage, but it was disheartening not to be able to shoot such an important moment.
High: Mornings in Mumbai. Perfect temperature, a mild breeze, less noise, cleaner sky than in the evening after a day of city hustle.
Low: Traveler's Diarrhea. Oh it happened. To me. Not the best night of my life, but I was over it half way through the next day.
Low: Tata Institute. We have been less than impressed with the institute Brittany and her team are working out of. They give little to no information to the girls and they have still not provided a translator, or access to a school in the slum.
High: Meeting with the girls and deciding it's time to go out on our own, leave the institution behind and hit the slums. Andrew, Bakes and I went out and found a translator the very next day. A couple nights before, Bakes and I had met a priest at a local fish market while buying some fish for the hotel room (great pets so far by the way). We went to his church and after the long, beautiful tour, and of course tea and biscuits, we asked him if he could help with a translator. He left the room, and five minutes later Ida Fernandes walked in. She came to the church looking for work. She’s a Marathi teacher, which is the language they speak in the slum. Considering there are thousands of current languages spoken in India, it’s a miracle that she teaches the Marathi to children, and that she came to the church to find work at the same time we were there looking to employ someone. And Father Frankie’s beautiful church was a great setting for that little miracle.
We spent two days shooting B-roll in South Mumbai. It’s a wealthier and more touristy part of town. We took a train and once again, I’ve never seen anything like it. People are packed in so tightly that they hang out the doors on both sides. They hold on to metal rings hanging from the ceiling, and each stop is a mosh pit of people forcing their way on and off the train. But just like driving here, there is no hostility with the extreme aggression, it’s just the only way to get anywhere in a country with the population density of India.
We got great B-roll, but the exhaustion has hit us. We’ve been working non-stop, and although we love it, we’ve had a few moments here and there where we’re at each other’s throats. But five or ten minutes later we’re laughing again. Not a day goes by where I don’t say, “I love it here.”
The hospitality is beyond words. Everywhere we go people stop us, “You are a guest here in India,” they say. “Welcome to my country.” “You have any problems, call me.” As you can see by the last video we posted it is often that we are surrounded by locals, curious to see what the white people are doing. On the flip side, everyone wants something from you here. Andrew already got had once, and we’ve definitely had trouble finding the line between hospitability, and falling in to debt with someone.
I know I’ve forgotten so much, but the next blog will be a slew of photos and pictures. They tell a better story anyway. As for now, it’s another perfect morning in India, and we have work to do. We’re meeting with the translator in 20 minutes and it’s our first real day of shooting the meat of our story. More adventures to come....
Oh I almost forgot. We went to get a cup of coffee yesterday and ended up riding an elephant down the street in our neighborhood. No tourist stuff, just a kid on an elephant collecting bananas and other “elephant gifts,” taking us on a ride down the streets of Chembur. I told you I love it here.
- Brennan
People Love Loitering
After an intensely crowded train ride, and a long day of shooting, we decided to take a breather. We sat down on the curb and here's what happened...
They gave us stools to really make it comfortable. The police finally came to break it up. NO MORE LOOKING AT THE WHITE PEOPLE!
They gave us stools to really make it comfortable. The police finally came to break it up. NO MORE LOOKING AT THE WHITE PEOPLE!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
When there are ups there are downs.
I got had.
It was stupid, and all of us should’ve been smarter, but it happened. This weekend was off time from shooting the main story of the documentary so we decided to take the time to go down south to downtown Mumbai and shoot B-Roll; this is where all the nice buildings, wealth, landmarks, and unfortunately tourists reside. It was mainly because of the latter that it happened—the locals have practice. We were at the Gateway to India, which is a large arch, when a beggar approached bakes. She put a flower bracelet on his wrist (which is about the time that I approached). She then placed one on Brennan’s wrist, and then mine. We wanted to give her something in return, so we took out a single Rupee and offered it to her. She denied and said that she didn’t want our money, that she wanted only a little food to eat—she pointed in the direction of the vendors about 100 yards away. We figured this was reasonable enough. We all headed in that direction but decided quickly that it was best if Brennan and Bakes stay and shoot while I go get her some food (oops. Don’t separate). And so it was, this young girl, 15-years-old, and I were walking towards the vendors. She said to me, “no, not there. Just on the other side of the gates.” (She was speaking of the police gates that are set up to enter the gated park). I conceded (oops). Upon exited the gated area I knew I was in trouble: a man approached me saying, “We’re going this way,” and pointed down the street (The girl was actually behind me as we went through the gate and the man approached, which makes me think that the flower was a mark of some kind). At this point I was scared (there, I said it), so I walked with them.
We walked, and walked—girl in front, guy behind—until finally we arrived at a grocery store. We all entered. She took a cart and started grabbing food. Rice, milk, and oil mainly. The man was standing very close so there was no going anywhere. They finished their spree and walked me right to the register. 2000 Rupees it read. I told them I didn’t have that much, to which she responded that she knew I did. We went back and forth like this a few times until finally she started putting things back.
They walked out with 780 Rupees worth of stuff, and I walked the hell out of there glad I wasn’t robbed for everything I had.
On the bright side of things it was actually less than $20 worth of food, and it was food. They didn’t take money, they didn’t take my passport or credit cards (which were all tucked away in my money belt), they only wanted me to buy them what could feed their family. And if they have a family of ten they can feed them now—probably for about a week.
That wasn’t the brightest moment for all of us.
In other news, the documentary is progressing. We spent the beginning of the weekend in search of the translator. We needed someone who could translate Marathi (the language of the state) into English while we shoot and Brittany does her work in the slums. Accomplishing this was not as hard as we thought it would be.
A few nights back, Brennan and Bakes hit the streets while I stayed back and blogged and read. While they were out they met a local Priest named Frankie at a fish stand on the side of the road (they bought us mascots for the hotel room). He spoke with them for a while in very clear English, and then mentioned that he preached at a local church nearby. So, when we needed a translator we knew for sure he was the first person to ask. He is too old to do it himself, but we thought there was a pretty good chance he would know someone. So we went in search of the church.
Being that India is mainly a Hindu and Muslim country, a Catholic church sticks out like a sore thumb and was not very hard to locate just by asking around.
We found Frankie and he was very welcoming to us. He took us around introducing everyone and was so proud to give us a tour of his church. We eventually sat down for tea (this is a must when you are a guest pretty much anywhere, including a lot of shops). We told him what we needed. He went to check with an associate of his, and almost as if it were fate, a Marathi teacher (who has experience teaching in the slums) just came into the church to talk to Frankie’s associate about needing a job. It was just our luck. She starts with us on Monday.
This was a start to a very productive weekend. We shot A LOT of b-roll. And a lot of it will work very well. Things are moving in the right direction. Tomorrow, we’re going back to the church to help Frankie, and then we’re going to shoot a few interviews. After that, more b-roll, then hitting the ground running with the meat of the story on Monday.
We’ll keep you all posted.
Andrew
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Happy New Year
Today we woke up before the sun, a Muslim prayer playing through a loudspeaker soaked through our windows. We were all excited, however still exhausted from the flight and the 3 and 1/2 hours of sleep we just got. Breakfast surprisingly arrived at our room at 7:00am sharp, and we ate our eggs, packed our bags, and headed to Tata Institute of Social Sciences to meet Brittany and her team.
We stepped onto the streets in attempts to jump in an auto rickshaw. We asked a man if he knew where TISS was and next thing we knew there were eight to ten guys all gathered around talking to each other. As we learned today the locals seem to flock to us. After much discussion amongst themselves, they told us it would be Rs.180, which is about $4.00. Although our knowledge is limited, we thought Rs.180 seemed a little pricey, so we kindly turned them down and took off up the street. Eventually we found a black and yellow cab that gave us a ride for Rs. 28, or 62 cents.
We arrived at TISS, met with Brittany for a second breakfast and were introduced to the other Harvard students. The chai tea was amazing and will be something we all miss when we get back to the states. After breakfast we went through orientation with the Indian professor who unfortunately had no idea about our documentary. He was clearly uncomfortable with us being there, and we’ll have to see what develops. We learned some amazing statistics about Mumbai and decided to go off to the slums with some local Indian students. We jumped in three different rickshaws. Bakes, Andy and I were in our own and it was complete chaos as the other two rickshaws took off. Apparently saying “Follow that rickshaw!” doesn’t work. We ended up on our own, and lost.
Our rickshaw driver pulled over and clearly had no idea where he was going, and neither did we. So we got out, paid up, and began walking the streets. We were all a little uncomfortable at first since we were always the center of attention. People would point and talk about us everywhere we went. We stumbled across some guys playing cards on the sidewalk and decided we’d try to make friends. Next thing we knew they were shaking our hands, touching our feet and our chests, smiling, and saying, “God bless you.” We then realized that all the looks we’ve been getting are simply based off of curiosity and so far no one means any harm.
The greatest part of today was the kids. And I feel like I might be saying that a lot on this trip. Kids would sometimes be shy at first, however eventually they would flock to us, shaking our hands, laughing, taking photos with us, slapping each other to show off. Sometimes there were up to 25 kids at a time, and each one yelled “Happy New Year!” as we walked away down the street.
Our discomfort that was almost smothering yesterday has already faded dramatically. The kindness and hospitality of the people here is absolutely amazing. I’m looking forward to what tomorrow brings.
- Brennan
We stepped onto the streets in attempts to jump in an auto rickshaw. We asked a man if he knew where TISS was and next thing we knew there were eight to ten guys all gathered around talking to each other. As we learned today the locals seem to flock to us. After much discussion amongst themselves, they told us it would be Rs.180, which is about $4.00. Although our knowledge is limited, we thought Rs.180 seemed a little pricey, so we kindly turned them down and took off up the street. Eventually we found a black and yellow cab that gave us a ride for Rs. 28, or 62 cents.
We arrived at TISS, met with Brittany for a second breakfast and were introduced to the other Harvard students. The chai tea was amazing and will be something we all miss when we get back to the states. After breakfast we went through orientation with the Indian professor who unfortunately had no idea about our documentary. He was clearly uncomfortable with us being there, and we’ll have to see what develops. We learned some amazing statistics about Mumbai and decided to go off to the slums with some local Indian students. We jumped in three different rickshaws. Bakes, Andy and I were in our own and it was complete chaos as the other two rickshaws took off. Apparently saying “Follow that rickshaw!” doesn’t work. We ended up on our own, and lost.
Our rickshaw driver pulled over and clearly had no idea where he was going, and neither did we. So we got out, paid up, and began walking the streets. We were all a little uncomfortable at first since we were always the center of attention. People would point and talk about us everywhere we went. We stumbled across some guys playing cards on the sidewalk and decided we’d try to make friends. Next thing we knew they were shaking our hands, touching our feet and our chests, smiling, and saying, “God bless you.” We then realized that all the looks we’ve been getting are simply based off of curiosity and so far no one means any harm.
The greatest part of today was the kids. And I feel like I might be saying that a lot on this trip. Kids would sometimes be shy at first, however eventually they would flock to us, shaking our hands, laughing, taking photos with us, slapping each other to show off. Sometimes there were up to 25 kids at a time, and each one yelled “Happy New Year!” as we walked away down the street.
Our discomfort that was almost smothering yesterday has already faded dramatically. The kindness and hospitality of the people here is absolutely amazing. I’m looking forward to what tomorrow brings.
- Brennan
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Getting Adjusted
I am so tired. In an interview we did with Brittany she said, “now I know why babies sleep so much, when everything is new its exhausting.” This pretty much nails it. EVERYTHING is new: the rickshaws, the foods, the people, the monkeys, everything. The distance away from home is very apparent. It actually feels how far away it is.
Yesterday, when we were heading out into the field for the first time, we got lost following the other rickshaw. We ended up being dropped off in the middle of nowhere and decided to make the most of it. We started walking with no direction.
At first it was very nerve racking; eyes watching us like we were about to do a magic trick or put on a show. Kids were pointing us out to their friends. Generally, people were enamored. We reached the end of the block and needed to take breather. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my entire life—but I was thriving on it. There were a few men playing cards near us, and as we passed, the warmest welcome came over them. They were waving and smiling. We took out our camera and approached them. They shook our hands and touched our feet (a sign of respect), one of the men while holding my hands said to me, “no tension”, as if he wanted me to be assured he wasn’t threatening, and none of them were. I needed that.
I’ve started to realize that people here are just as intrigued by us as we are by them. Many of them have never even seen a white person before. On that same walk, a few kids came up to say hello. “Happy New Year,” each of them would say, then reach their hand out for us to shake. Then more approached. Then even more. It was a mob. The children’s older siblings were all standing nearby and gestured for us to join them. We walked over, and they told us they wanted a picture. I posted this photo below.
The people are so warm and welcoming. A young boy even walked us out of the slum all the way to our hotel just so we wouldn’t get lost. Brennan gave him a carabineer as a gift for doing that. He asked if we were South African, the country of the only white person he’d ever seen before us.
The filming has been great. We’ve shot some beautiful, and heartbreaking things. One of the kids that Brittany screened today was with her Grandmother because his mother was murdered a month ago. Heartbreaking. It’s hard to see so many people living in poverty, yet amazing to see them do it with a smile. I want to be sure that we capture the hope that these people have, because although they are living in a tough situation, they really seem to make the most of it.
Andrew
Yesterday, when we were heading out into the field for the first time, we got lost following the other rickshaw. We ended up being dropped off in the middle of nowhere and decided to make the most of it. We started walking with no direction.
At first it was very nerve racking; eyes watching us like we were about to do a magic trick or put on a show. Kids were pointing us out to their friends. Generally, people were enamored. We reached the end of the block and needed to take breather. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my entire life—but I was thriving on it. There were a few men playing cards near us, and as we passed, the warmest welcome came over them. They were waving and smiling. We took out our camera and approached them. They shook our hands and touched our feet (a sign of respect), one of the men while holding my hands said to me, “no tension”, as if he wanted me to be assured he wasn’t threatening, and none of them were. I needed that.
I’ve started to realize that people here are just as intrigued by us as we are by them. Many of them have never even seen a white person before. On that same walk, a few kids came up to say hello. “Happy New Year,” each of them would say, then reach their hand out for us to shake. Then more approached. Then even more. It was a mob. The children’s older siblings were all standing nearby and gestured for us to join them. We walked over, and they told us they wanted a picture. I posted this photo below.
The people are so warm and welcoming. A young boy even walked us out of the slum all the way to our hotel just so we wouldn’t get lost. Brennan gave him a carabineer as a gift for doing that. He asked if we were South African, the country of the only white person he’d ever seen before us.
The filming has been great. We’ve shot some beautiful, and heartbreaking things. One of the kids that Brittany screened today was with her Grandmother because his mother was murdered a month ago. Heartbreaking. It’s hard to see so many people living in poverty, yet amazing to see them do it with a smile. I want to be sure that we capture the hope that these people have, because although they are living in a tough situation, they really seem to make the most of it.
Andrew
Monday, January 3, 2011
First thoughts
I can’t quite say where our adventure began. Maybe it was 60 days ago when we started putting this overwhelming experience together for ourselves. Perhaps it was at the check-in counter at Newark airport, where the attendant took us into a less populated area of the airport to show us her amazing headstand abilities. But I think years from now, when I look back, I’ll remember the beginning as the black and yellow cab ride from the airport in Mumbai.
The three of us rode in silence. Although it seems obvious, I felt as if I was in a new world. Everything was foreign to me. The people, the chaotic sounds, the smells, the dirty orange glow of the air. Everything. But the one thing that first hit me was how incomplete everything seemed to me. There are giant pillars, empty frames, supporting an overpass that’s nowhere to be found. Scaffolding that rises stories into the air, lonely on the sidewalk, bending into nothing. Ladies that beg for an American coin while our cab is stopped at a red light. Their faces older than any I’ve seen before, and brand new babies cradled in a sling. One of them rubbed on our windows, with the soft and desperate touch of a mother, who cannot feed her child. Dump trucks driving in lines one after the other after the other, all empty. And wild dogs, chasing motorcycles and wagging their tails.
I feel like I don’t belong here. Because I don’t. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable than I have the last several hours. And those feelings are incredible and exciting. Tomorrow we go to the slums, and everything will be magnified. I’m almost as nervous as I am excited, and I am so fortunate to have my sister and two great friends to share this experience with.
I can’t say where our adventure began. But I know this is the beginning. And I hope that by the end, the incompleteness of my surroundings fades, and I learn why dump trucks drive empty, and the scaffolding climbs to nowhere.
- Brennan
The three of us rode in silence. Although it seems obvious, I felt as if I was in a new world. Everything was foreign to me. The people, the chaotic sounds, the smells, the dirty orange glow of the air. Everything. But the one thing that first hit me was how incomplete everything seemed to me. There are giant pillars, empty frames, supporting an overpass that’s nowhere to be found. Scaffolding that rises stories into the air, lonely on the sidewalk, bending into nothing. Ladies that beg for an American coin while our cab is stopped at a red light. Their faces older than any I’ve seen before, and brand new babies cradled in a sling. One of them rubbed on our windows, with the soft and desperate touch of a mother, who cannot feed her child. Dump trucks driving in lines one after the other after the other, all empty. And wild dogs, chasing motorcycles and wagging their tails.
I feel like I don’t belong here. Because I don’t. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable than I have the last several hours. And those feelings are incredible and exciting. Tomorrow we go to the slums, and everything will be magnified. I’m almost as nervous as I am excited, and I am so fortunate to have my sister and two great friends to share this experience with.
I can’t say where our adventure began. But I know this is the beginning. And I hope that by the end, the incompleteness of my surroundings fades, and I learn why dump trucks drive empty, and the scaffolding climbs to nowhere.
- Brennan
May the adventures begin. We have arrived in Mumbai, and not to anyone’s surprise, it is much different than we even thought. The airport was filled with people, and the mosquitoes were visible even while waiting for our baggage. As we drove through the streets we didn’t speak much, there was too much happening around us. The smell of gasoline seemed poignant among all else. Black and yellow cabs zipped passed us honking for no apparent reason (ours included). People slept in the streets, lined like campers waiting to buy concert tickets. An old woman approached our cab at a stoplight. She was very sick, and begged with apparent need and obvious past neglect.
Our cab stopped and let us out. We arrived at the front desk only to find out that the driver dropped us at the wrong hotel! We were fifteen minutes away, without the slightest idea of where we actually were. I think the front desk felt bad for us, because they decided to personally take us to the right hotel.
I’ve been thinking of what it would be like here. Like thinking of a monster. Maybe it’ll have 4 eyes, and 3 legs, and 15 teeth. But those are still eyes, and legs, and teeth—those are things I know. I’m excited to be here and finally see what parts of the monster I may not have even known existed.
Andrew
Our cab stopped and let us out. We arrived at the front desk only to find out that the driver dropped us at the wrong hotel! We were fifteen minutes away, without the slightest idea of where we actually were. I think the front desk felt bad for us, because they decided to personally take us to the right hotel.
I’ve been thinking of what it would be like here. Like thinking of a monster. Maybe it’ll have 4 eyes, and 3 legs, and 15 teeth. But those are still eyes, and legs, and teeth—those are things I know. I’m excited to be here and finally see what parts of the monster I may not have even known existed.
Andrew
Sunday, December 26, 2010
One Week from Today
Hey everyone,
As most of you know, I am traveling to Mumbai, India one week from today with my sister Brittany, Andrew Geller, and Dan Baker. The three of us will be documenting ground-breaking research conducted by Brittany and her team of Harvard Masters students. You can learn a little more about the project by going to kickstarter.com and searching for A Boy Named Lucas. On that note I would like to once again thank all of our generous backers: Zoe Seymour, Nancy Trouts, Josh Eisenberg, Ellie Crumbaugh, Nicole Miller, Sarah Cuno, Jenna Barke, Adam Pruitt, Dale and Mardi Unruh, Poulos and Somers, Maricela Ramirez, Dennis Buelow, Gary Guilford, Katherine VanSchooneveld, Ethel, Fred and Jeanie Schields, Erin Hadley Ginocchio, Ashley Plante, Cherie Talbert, Nicholas Brennan, Janece Soendker, Devin Harjes, William, Dawn Banks, CJ and Kristin, Talia Corren, Andrew W, Jamie Unruh, Anita Antony, Dan Elder, Christine Baker, Mike and Stacee Morgan, Erin, Naif, Joanne McDevitt, Chuch Reid, Drew Palazzo, Steve Colburn, Mel Trenor, Kerry LeBleu, Linda Stsrammiello, Bill Owens, Jon Danger Campbell, Pat Patterson, Roy McDonald, Tony Glazer, Gina Roche, Donna Jeanne Walter, Bob Brooks, and Katherine Cuno. Phew. Thanks everyone! We could not have done it without you!
Feel free to follow us on our journey. We will be blogging as much as possible, however there are many unanswered questions at this time so we'll have to see how it goes. With our visas in hand, immunizations flowing through our veins, and a to-do list that is diminishing daily, we look forward to a life-changing experience on the other side of the world. Thanks again,
Brennan, Andrew, Dan, and Brittany
As most of you know, I am traveling to Mumbai, India one week from today with my sister Brittany, Andrew Geller, and Dan Baker. The three of us will be documenting ground-breaking research conducted by Brittany and her team of Harvard Masters students. You can learn a little more about the project by going to kickstarter.com and searching for A Boy Named Lucas. On that note I would like to once again thank all of our generous backers: Zoe Seymour, Nancy Trouts, Josh Eisenberg, Ellie Crumbaugh, Nicole Miller, Sarah Cuno, Jenna Barke, Adam Pruitt, Dale and Mardi Unruh, Poulos and Somers, Maricela Ramirez, Dennis Buelow, Gary Guilford, Katherine VanSchooneveld, Ethel, Fred and Jeanie Schields, Erin Hadley Ginocchio, Ashley Plante, Cherie Talbert, Nicholas Brennan, Janece Soendker, Devin Harjes, William, Dawn Banks, CJ and Kristin, Talia Corren, Andrew W, Jamie Unruh, Anita Antony, Dan Elder, Christine Baker, Mike and Stacee Morgan, Erin, Naif, Joanne McDevitt, Chuch Reid, Drew Palazzo, Steve Colburn, Mel Trenor, Kerry LeBleu, Linda Stsrammiello, Bill Owens, Jon Danger Campbell, Pat Patterson, Roy McDonald, Tony Glazer, Gina Roche, Donna Jeanne Walter, Bob Brooks, and Katherine Cuno. Phew. Thanks everyone! We could not have done it without you!
Feel free to follow us on our journey. We will be blogging as much as possible, however there are many unanswered questions at this time so we'll have to see how it goes. With our visas in hand, immunizations flowing through our veins, and a to-do list that is diminishing daily, we look forward to a life-changing experience on the other side of the world. Thanks again,
Brennan, Andrew, Dan, and Brittany
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