The night visitors -- Monty's not welcome

The women had three new visitors this night. The first they named Monty. It was a large gray rat. They corralled it in the back room, opened a door, and believed it escaped. Then it was followed by two of the business students. Andrea and Jen were polite to the end so they didn’t mention the rat to the newcomers.

A look at two Indias (plus a cow) in the dark

Tonight’s walk took us down the street running in front of the residence about 10 blocks in the dark (including the middle of a milk farm with cows bedding down on the road) to a busy major street. We were more exploring than anything, although hunting for Coke Light was part of the motivation. It turned out to be great fun for everyone.

We passed one of the dichotomies that is India. There was a new 12-story condo development sited amidst a plethora of tiny one-room shacks and a pile of rubble. Father Vinayak says Indians who come to the US consider our cities “boring” because all the houses look the same. Ahmedabad is anything but boring, I can tell you.

The residence is filled with MU students

Suddenly we wake up to find the Jesuit residence and open St. Xavier dorms are filled with Marquette students – and not our team, either. These were from our business school on a marketing tour looking to offer low caste Indians and Tribals practical advice for operating micro-businesses in India. There are six women, two men, and two faculty members.

It wasn't the lecture, honest!

Classes started so we’ve been very busy since. I had a first in the middle of a lecture on storytelling when one of the students raced for the door holding her mouth. She barely made it outside before she was sick. She returned. The lecture continued. Suddenly, she raced for the door holding her mouth. She threw up. She returned. Later she was very apologetic.

That’s another thing about the Indian students. Their politeness is almost beyond belief. When they enter the room, they each will offer a “Good morning.” And they apologize constantly.

A reminder that our cultures differ

After dinner, a walk was in order. It was New Year’s Eve, and we couldn’t go to bed at 8:30. Since it was dark and the students were tired, we headed off for a short walk that, like that afternoon, turned extraordinary. Because the students trust in their leaders, they let me set the route, and I started down a couple of the major streets nearby. The wealth of stimuli of an Indian city prompted two of the students to talk about how “there’s so much here that my mind is having trouble processing it.” This came while walking past a variety of commercial establishments amidst a throng of people, most of them openly staring at our group as we walked along a lighted street. There were clubs, restaurants, many closed shops, art for sale, people sitting around fires, beggars, dogs, vehicles racing by with constant horns beeping adding to a world of sounds and smells totally unfamiliar to us and constantly changing. Then things got weird.

Deciding to head home, we turned off the main street into a dark side street, lit by occasional streetlights and the ever-present vehicles hurtling by. Once again we found ourselves the center of attention, but this time we were bombarded with cries of “Hello” and “Happy New Year” from the dimly lit fronts of tiny houses with entire families with residents rushing up to shake our hands. Here we passed cattle and the unmistakable odor of a farm lot – then a camel lying down. People wanted their photos taken, to touch us, to look at “Americans,” as I heard more than one person mention. This was the dark side of Ahmedabad, not only in lighting but also in life. We’d call it a slum. I don’t know what the area’s residents would call it. And it was a bit unsettling. We weren’t used to such areas. We aren’t used to being such centers of attention. All the students were affected; the walk home was virtually silent. Both women blogged about it, Andrea’s blog especially showed its impact. Again a memory that won’t be forgotten.

Invited by a president to paint the town red

One of the things I like about our students is their intense desire to get as close to the loca

l cultures as possible. Father Vinayak offered us such a chance. It seems that a tribal village about an hour’s drive away planned to celebrate the election of a new local district president. The fact that the new leader was a woman and a Christian were very important for this village, which is about 90% Christian. So the students and I headed along for the ride with Carole Burns staying behind setting up the lab.

It turned into much more of a ride than we thought. The villagers had mounted a procession with several vehicles including a tractor pulling the new leader and a group of friends aboard a wagon. Everyone had painted their faces and often their hair with red dust in celebration. They urged us to join them so red-cheeked, we were hoisted aboard the wagon for a celebratory circling of the village complete with much drum

ming, horn blaring, chanting and fireworks. As Jen Solaris said afterward, “I liked being a celebrity.” She and the rest of us were that. We were stared at, waved at, called to, had our hands shaken by adults and touched by the braver of the children. It was an extraordinary afternoon that will never be forgotten. It ended with tea at the new president’s house.

We had our fans. My favorite was a little boy about 8 who warmly waved as we passed him. We waved back. A few hundred yards down the road, there he was again, waving with a huge grin. We waved back. Again, he was by the side the road. He kept it up most of the way around the village. Waving until we passed, then racing ahead of us. Others were fascinated by a man sitting on the tractor hood, then jumping up to dance and wave his arms wildly whenever it stopped. Others by the quartet of little girls behind us on the wagon who chanted a call and response refrain at the top of their voices throughout the entire trip. We were given flower leis. Andrea was given hers by the new president. They fit with the celebratory nature of this visit.