A plea for thoughts...

I feel desperate. It feels like nobody is listening and understanding what is actually going on. This blog has become a distant place out in space where I once a year have something to write. Its probably for attention – which is a paradox because nobody reads it. I have found a new passion in life. Well – it started off as a fascination, continued as a master degree and evolved in to a deep engagement. I think I am starting to become sick – sick of frustration and desperation. I miss India and the slum and I miss making a difference in peoples lives. I probably still do – it just feels meaningless back here in Norway with my big tv, mac and monthly income. I feel like a hipocrit. I know you are not supposed to say that – I should be happy for what I have and that I was blessed to be born in Norway and not Sierra Leone. But I feel like I could have done so much more. ”Well… just write a blog about it then..”.

I think everyone in the fortunate ”West” should think about one of these things each day:
- 1 of 4 children in Sierra Leone die before they turn 5 years old.
- People in Haiti are at the moment dying of cholera – which can be treated with water….
- 10 million people are still waiting for hiv-treatment. They could have lived a good life with treatment – but many of them will probably die.
- In developing countries 146 million children under five are malnutritioned compared to their age.

You probably think that this is not something that concerns you. It is not your problem. Norway has got problems that needs to be dealt with aswell. The difference is that in Norway you can help yourself. You have got all the tools you need to not be hungry or sick. An often used argument is that we have worked hard for it and we have earned it. It is a good argument – but the people in the slum of Seekar in India are working harder than any of us can understand. There is nothing called 8 hour days and payed lunch. They are lucky if they can even get hold of one meal per day. People are so hungry in India that malnutrion is becoming normalised.

”The problem is too big. My doing will not affect anyone.” Wrong! The only thing you are participating in with this statement is more poverty, sickness and suffering.

My plea is that you at least offer all the hungry and sick people out there one thought a day. Do it just before you buy a flatscreen tv for your bedroom or bathroom.

The Pink City, India pt 3.

When we arrived in Jaipur the amount of rickshaw drivers pushing us around to get us to choose their beautiful, wonderful, cheap rickshaw overwhelmed me. It felt like being attacked by paparazzi or protesters in a political demonstration. The desperation was thick as porridge in the air and I felt suffocated. I kind of went into myself and let the Italian deal with the chaos. All in all, Diana was more used to the intense culture than me and this shows the huge differences between even Norway and Italy. In Norway people are reserved and keep to themselves, thus I got scared and overwhelmed by the rickshaw drivers wanting to know EVERYTHING about me as soon as I got out of the train station. At that point I was annoyed and angry, but when pondering about how this man has to support his family of 5 or 6 on a 2-dollar salary you can understand the desperation. In the beginning of arriving in India you want to give everyone money. Every little street kid asking you for rupees or food, every woman asking you for money for their kid who needs to go to the hospital. For every man who tries to rip you off by increasing the prize of a bag not only double the price but also hundred times the price it is worth. At the end of being in India for a while you understand that if you went with the flow and did not bargain or ignore street beggars you would be broke in a day. It sounds cynical, and it might be, but you are not the (direct) source of their misery. However, we did end up with Janu as a rickshaw driver. A nice young man with good manners. He told us all the country land lines for all the countries of the world it seems – amazing how many different people you can meet as a rickshaw driver in Jaipur. The guesthouse in Jaipur was clean and nice, and we met up with Vinod, the coordinator of the volunteer experience. A nicely dressed man with a passion for chai and meeting new people. (As he said himself.) He was obviously a subject to the pollution with having a constant cough and talking in a very low voice. I think I got to understand or hear for that sake, 40 % of the things he told us. We went for a little sightseeing in Jaipur and the motel owner gave us his ‘best rickshaw driver’. Bad idea. The guy was nice enough – but he ripped us off. Paid 250 rupees, when the price in Jaipur would be around 120 rupees. It is not too bad, but considering he knew we were volunteer workers I did not have compassion for him. At night, Vinod taught us some Hindi. At the end of the stay in India I knew all animals, colours and basic conversation. Not bad hey? The language is easy in some way, but difficult because of the signs. It was good to know the language a little bit, because the locals respected you and they would not try to rip you off that often. Vinod took us out for dinner every night in Jaipur and we tried many different types of food. The food in India is much more authentic than in an Indian restaurant in Norway or Australia. It has a different taste, which is almost indescribable compared to the food at Sitar in West End for example. It has not got so much sweetness to it, and coriander and curry can be tasted at a whole different level than in a tikka masala jar from Prix. Obviously. We also got ripped off when buying phones. They did not work for a loooong time. The problem with India is that money is before everything. Everybody talks about how much they paid for this and that and how much their brother or cousin is earning working overseas. In the slums, as I mentioned earlier people don’t care that much, but the middle class, or even the lower middle class are obsessed with money and the Western way of being. It is a problem that Western culture is so significant in a country that has their traditions so entrenched in their culture. How can a girl avoid an identity crises with miniskirts sold in the markets, but with not being allowed to wear due to the traditions and culture? How can young people not be confused when all Hollywood movies shows free love and marriages based on love when their life partner was chosen for them from birth and they have not even met the person they are going to marry? India is a country full of contradictions, therefore – as an outsider you feel like there is a love/hate relationship with this beautiful country of colours.

Train to Jaipur, India pt.2

We went on the train to Jaipur ‘the Pink city’, It was pretty comfortable with breakfast, tea and air conditioning. I always get so mesmerized when I am in any kind of transport vehicle. The train chucking through the rural areas of Rajasthan revealing beautiful colourful saris amongst camels, goats and tree huts. The wildlife and nature of India is amazing but also robust and taunting at the same time. We left the train station early in the morning and I was relieved to leave busy Delhi. (I thought). The train was something like a train you would never find in Norway or Australia. Of course there were people on the roof and people sitting as in a sardine tin on the floor. We however, paid 10 AUD for a second class A/C Berth with morning tea and breakfast included. What luxury. Sitting on the train, next to a Japanese lady obviously influenced by the Indian culture with her nose rings and big teabags, I could not see the beautiful colours of the life around the rails due to the brown stained windows. I did however see the cows, kids and dogs playing, eating and sleeping on the railway. I saw the women washing their clothes in a little dam made by a shovel and rainwater. Shirtless kids are sweeping the unsweepable dusty ground whilst pigs are used as a bad solution to a environmental infrastructure that does not exist by eating the rubbish in the streets. Suddenly, 3 hours have past and I have inhaled the real India. Not the silk stores and perfume sellers in the streets of Delhi, but the people living on the railway in 50 degrees. Whilst sitting on the train driving past little slum villages illustrating chaos I see my first shrine. Or temple, but it looks more like a little shrine. It is overflowing with flowers, gold and colours. The painting of Ganesha (Hindu God) are sparkling and lights are surrounding the little peaceful temple. A couple of dogs are sleeping on the steps. Suddenly I understand where people find peace in the chaotic culture of India. Suddenly I understand that these people do not need material stuff or have a need for a television in their little hut. The Hindus get protection and love from their spiritual beliefs, not their house, their money or nice clothes. The need for a shower and a nice creamy cappuccino was gone.

India Pt.1

I have been in India for a month. Amazing. The experience of my so far pretty short life! :) I am going to put up a few thoughts and selected "passages" from the diary I wrote while I was down there. It starts off in Delhi.

Sitting in the rickshaw on my way into the market area of Paharganj in Delhi, India the only thoughts running through my mind was “What am I doing in this godforsaken country, I need to go back to skyscrapers and civilized people.” Harsh, one may say, but the muddy streets, scabby dogs and unfortunate people made me scared and feeling lost. The smell of India was a blend of fuel, spices and excrement. My dream of India as a country of colours, tea and welcoming people was shattered into a thousand pieces and I felt nauseous. I realized I was outside of my perfect little bubble with a sheltered childhood in Norway with issues such as no money for an ice cream as my biggest challenge. The sorrow of people on the streets, and the desperation of the men trying to sell their dirty, dusty textiles on the streets got me in the gut. The ‘hotel’ we were staying at disgusted me with a brown toilet/shower and men making chapatti (bread made of water and flour) in the halls outside my room making the nights smell like gas. The night of Delhi slowly got more interesting with talking to a little boy named Raj who was charming and helpful. We also met his uncle, brother or whatever he was who owned a little hotel. He showed us all his photos with his girlfriend from Estonia. His girlfriend was amazing according to himself, she was a dolphin trainer, a maths teacher, English teacher, medical teacher, singer and Russian teacher. The photos of the lady looked real, but the stories of his beautiful woman opening a world of opportunities for this poor man was shining through the laughter and offers of orange juice. His way out of the dirty streets of Paharganj was this woman, maybe someone he had met for a day or someone he did not know at all – but who remained in his heart as a dream or an opportunity to flee India. I suddenly felt more safe in the streets of Paharganj and more sudden than later I got familiar with the smells of sick dogs and cows mixed with jasmine incents and masala.

Two more weeks..

I have now finished all the essays for semester 1. 2009!! What an incredible feeling. What makes it better is the fact that in two weeks I am going to India with my lovely friend Diana! We are going to Jaipur in Rajasthan where we will volunteer and help kids rescued from child labour for 3 weeks. It's amazing - i knoow! So, first we will land in Delhi and then take the train for about 4 hours to Jaipur! It will be an amazing way to see some of India's landscapes and nature! When we get there we will meet up with the volunteer coordinator and he has booked a guesthouse for us in Jaipur which we will stay in for a couple of days while travelling around Jaipur with our private rickshaw (the guy on the bike with us in the back). I cannot wait to experience all the spices, smells, cotton clothes, camels, elephants, palaces, tigers, incents and YOU NAME IT! However, we are mainly going there to volunteer which will be amazing. We are living in a 'dorm' I would call it with other female volunteers, however it will not be that many volunteers there which is somehow good because then we will have more work to do! The days start with a yogalesson with the kids in the morning, keeps on going with some english learning and maybe some talks about environmental awareness and human rights (for the older kids). Then it's just play and fun and footbal and exploring on the agenda, finishing the day with meditation. I cannot imagine all the beautiful kids we will meet and get to know - it will be amazing and I will probably be a changed person when I get back. I am going to take millions of pictures and maybe write an article about it which I will put up here on the blog (or sell to Time magazine or National Geographic.. hahaha).

Cheers,









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PS: all girls (and boys):
1/2 cup hot water
1/3 cup oatmeal
2 tablespoons yoghurt
2 tablespoons honey
I eggwhite

Soak oatmeal in hot water - then mix with other ingredients. PUT ON FACE! Yummy facial mask with heaps of moisture! Try it :)

Babymaker3000.. jeez.

This is the baby of me and Maro ... Leonard. On babymaker3000.com :)
Very reliable.:P

Anyway.. it looks a little bit Middle Eastern doesnt it? Thats all Maro..:P

Well.. this is probably how its gonna be in the future. Go on internet, customize your own baby and then you just have to wait for the bun to bake. Sick isnt it...
Imagine China... its gonna be all boys. SOMEBODY STOP THIS MADNESS!

Another day...

aaaaah. uni. kill me. desperate housewives save me. yeey.