Monkey roadkill

We flew from Mumbai to Hyderabad the day before yesterday and then rode six hours by Land Rover into the country…far into the country. Not ‘far into the country’ like when I visited the DR Congo and we flew into the interior (there is a good highway system here; the ride itself was fairly direct) but far distant from much of what one would consider developed (e.g. if one wants some kind of western comprehension, we are about as far away from a Starbucks as we can get). That is, of course, not to say we are in the middle of nothingness; there are people all around (mostly agriculture and brick-making here).
The highway was four lane most of the way; or rather, perhaps ‘five lane’ is a more appropriate description. In addition to the travel and passing lane, there is a hazy area of centre lane that serves as a passing stretch depending on the size and speed of one’s vehicle. This goes for the freeway as well as the two lane stretches; we spent a good deal of time pummelling head-on into oncoming traffic to pass the continuous stream of ox carts, autorickshaws, mopeds, busses, and bicycles in the road and any combination of these broken down or stopped to rest in the lane. There were, of course, many people on foot and piles of gravel or produce impeding or otherwise re-directing the flow of traffic. Passing would be otherwise straightforward but the direction of traffic becomes ambiguous when a vehicle is also passing traffic in the oncoming lane (thus, there would be passing vehicles pulling into both lanes simultaneously and all four vehicles would then be driving into each other in both lanes—often this would occur in the undefined centre lane whilst vehicles in both lanes were passing the aforementioned slower vehicles. I am especially thankful we had a week of riding in Mumbai taxis; otherwise I don’t know how I would have faced such a ride with composure. I think, however, that we saw but one accident the whole way; there must be a wonderful hive mind at work that safely moves people and animals out of harm’s way.

We stopped along the way at a roadside eatery (again, it’s very difficult to describe for my Western friends what this is here; it was simply a concrete shed with an open face toward the road. The food was cooked over an open wood fire and brought to the table on metal plates). This was for our driver to have lunch (we had a bite at the airport). At some point whilst we were sitting at the table sipping our Cokes (which, of course, are ubiquitous no matter how far one is from anything), a jeep-load of soldiers pulled up. Man with machine gun came in and checked the place out and then a man who is probably military but is important enough that he need not wear a uniform came in to a little side room to meet with a couple men and eat. The man with the machine gun sat outside and eyed us cautiously (though I would imagine it was obvious to him that we were not a credible threat as our disguise was not especially appropriate for the setting).

This is the first place I’ve been where the roadkill are monkeys. We saw several troupes of them roadside; I saw one in particular making a gesture with an expression of, “what is all this conflagration on the highway!”

We arrived just after dark; as dusk falls, travel becomes even more stimulating; apparently, as long as one can see the road ahead, precious filament in the headlamps are conserved and they remain off. Of course, in a humid country at dusk, the means that one may not be able to see an oncoming vehicle in either the passing or (now especially) hazy centre area. So there was much flashing of headlights to send the message of “My oncoming brother vehicle, let us not collide and put an abrupt end to our perfectly good day of travel.”

So now we are in a quite peaceful rural setting for the next few days; it’s a pleasant contrast to hear night sounds and have fresh air after the closeness of Mumbai over the past week. I’m hoping I can slow down slightly and do a bit more of the work I’m planning to do on this trip; I feel a bit out of practice frankly and it’s taking some time to get up to speed (on top of all the normal adjustment it takes to enter a new country and culture).

The organisation we are visiting here is called the Bharti Integrated Rural Development Society

Walking mind

I am from the country; I’ve lived in (well ordered) cities where cars and people obey a very prescribed set of rules and expectations. There are, I’m sure, a clear set of rules here in Mumbai for pedestrian and vehicular traffic; however, to a newcomer, it seems like full on chaos. We walked most of the day through the city from our hotel to the bay (we are staying in the southern part of the city near the water). I’m not sure if I can fully describe the experience of walking through the city. First, there is the aural onslaught; beyond the noise of various sizes and vintages of internal combustion engines in whatever state of repair, there is a constant chorus of horns (constant—in that all the vehicles are constantly honking. When the light turns to green for instance, all vehicles following the front rank honk in case the leaders forget to link the concept of ‘green’ with going onward). Secondly, there is a hazy idea of what would ostensibly be termed ‘lanes’; as the road is shared by taxis, rickshaws, mopeds, busses, and cement trucks, each finds it’s own space no matter what kind of line would seem appropriate for forward travel. Third, when one crosses the street, there is none of this ‘wait for the green man to illuminate and then, when all traffic has ceased, cross the street in the marked pedestrian lane’ nonsense. Instead, one just goes into moving traffic and squeezes into the (narrow) spaces between the vehicles hurling toward you honking their horns (in case you’ve forgotten the concept of self preservation and the physics of the intersection of a human body and a steel box). And lastly there is the inevitable pollution from so many old vehicles running in the confined space of a city.
From the above, it would seem much more sensible to stay off the street altogether and simply walk on the sidewalk; however, the sidewalk is reserved for commerce (street stalls and hawkers) as well as living space. Everywhere there are people literally living by the side of the street; one walks by a family group cooking over a brazier and just going about their domestic business. So it’s often easier to gingerly make one’s way along right on the side of traffic in the street itself. It’s a wonderful mix of dynamic life all laid out in the open.

I’ve started an online gallery to post images from the trip; most of these will be general street shots as the images I’m making in the shelters we are visiting can’t be published openly as we need to be sensitive to identity protection. Click here for the gallery.

Going to India

I’ve, quite suddenly, the opportunity to travel across India in February-March with Dr. Katherine Welch to document an informal survey trip to meet with NGOs who might partner with her organisation, Global Health Promise. GHP is dedicated to protecting mothers and their children from the impact of trafficking, prostitution, and sexual exploitation. Katherine will determine what GHP can offer concerning health issues faced by trafficked people, prostitutes and, particularly, the children of women who are in these situations.
Following that I’ll go to Mysore for a couple weeks to document the work of Sarah Jane Whitehouse, a Glasgow based artist I know from my past life in Scotland. Sarah will do art therapy with girls who were trafficked and now trying to re-enter society. Her therapy will focus on issues of identity, self-worth and trust.

This is sort of a proof-of-concept trip for me; I’m working on several connected projects right now that seem like they will probably coalesce into one at some point (with people I’ve had contact with concerning trafficking over the past few years and with BuildaBridge, the non-profit I’m associated with in Philadelphia). We attempt to place art therapists, via a program we have going at BuildaBridge, with partner organisations that work with children in some of the world’s toughest situations. As follow-up to that, we want to do ‘personal history’ projects and bring their stories out for awareness, support, and hopefully as a way to help people feel validated as human beings. On this trip I’ll take along a small kit of digital cameras and an audio recorder to produce several pieces such as these: MediaStorm (in the incoming weeks I’ll post more specifics on the type of work I’m aiming to do here. It’s a fine balance of sensitivity to keep when working with people who have already been exploited).

I’ve the promise of some preliminary funding for travel expenses; however, we would like to raise some further funding to cover equipment and supplies. BuildaBridge will act as my fiduciary agent for this trip so any donations you might like to make are tax-deductible. I’m hoping to put together some solid media from this trip to show what it is we are hoping to do and then I’ll seek further grant funding (we have already submitted one related grant and have further proposals in the works). Please contact me at euassociate@buildabridge.org if you would either like to make a donation or are interested in the project as a whole (I’ll also publish more detailed proposals in the incoming month concerning the project as it relates to BuildaBridge and, separately, the potential for telling the life stories of trafficked people worldwide. I’m working on a curriculum for training our artists to gather these stories in the field and, of course, empowering people to relate their own).

This has been my back-burner project for several years now; it seems it may come to the forefront soon. Again, this initial trip is an informal survey where I’ll be thinking through how to do the larger project. Much more to come…

Update: There is now a secure donation page for this; click here and then select “storytelling project” from the drop-down menu (be sure to do this as we have several programs on here and the donation needs to be designated towards a particular one).

Also, here is a description on the BuildaBridge site of what we hope to develop this into.

Derivative Originals

I can see who’s visited my site on the ‘management’ side of things and noticed last week that someone from a certain website had trolled through and commented. The site in question advertises a service in which one pays $12.99 and, in return, receives a one hundred percent original term paper on the subject specified. The comment they left (which I’ve since removed) said something like ‘thanks for pulling all this together.’ ‘This’ was the text of my academic papers from grad school I have placed online. Well, you are welcome, obvious shysters; I hope your dunderhead clients are satisfied with the work I’ve ‘pulled together’ for them.
Later I mentioned this to my uncle who is a professor at the local university; he said there is little chance of a plagiarised paper making it through; all papers are submitted electronically and automatically scanned through a system that is also trolling the internet for pre-existing material. This is standard practice for most universities now. Also, I’m rather imagining an American undergraduate student submitting the content of one of my papers as his or her own; the professor might find it remarkable that an erstwhile failing student suddenly writes like a graduate student in his mid-30’s and, as an added bonus, in British English and citation standards.

I would like to note a couple things for anyone who might be tempted by such a service. First, what do you think $12.99 is going to get you? Do you really assume you are paying a competent writer to compose an original term paper (which, if you didn’t know, takes longer than the duration of a feature film to complete!) for the price of a pizza with two toppings? Second, why are you in school? The degree that you hope to obtain (should you avoid all detection of plagiarism) won’t shelter you from your obvious incompetence out in ‘the real world.’ Take the money you are spending on school and go travel, learn about yourself and others instead of wasting it on imaginary un-earned grades. If you are faced with writing a paper and afraid of failure, write it and fail! At least it’s your own experience and you become richer from it (trust me; pertinent side story here).

That said, I do now have the maniacal idea that my theories may find wider acceptance as they permeate through the Academy. (Though I am rather miffed that I’m not getting some of that $12.99 for pizza and movie money.)

Coldplay, Moby, and Jesus

Whilst searching for a scratch track for the video I’m editing I came across a track with these keyword tags:

God love Christian Jesus Christ religious religion saved saviour Our Lord Father in heaven cinematic soundtrack production music sounds like Coldplay Moby Beck Genesis mark hewer film TV score

Five Months

Five months ago, on this day, at this hour, I was in trauma recovery with a doctor picking glass out of my head. The glass was everywhere, in every crevice of my clothing, in every exposed space where glass could fix itself; days later I pulled glass out of my skin. I think there is still glass embedded in my arm. How could such a small car contain so much glass?

Today I drove the same route from Philadelphia to Morgantown, WV; I did not plan this outright but was working in Philly this week and decided to come home today. The skid marks begin to fade at the site of the accident; the memory and sound have not.

During the accident, the one complete thought I had was let me live. I am still sorting out what that means and begin to get a clearer picture. It’s been five months; something more follows. Five months ago today, I nearly died; I did not.