Homestay Weekend

What a weekend. I didn’t really know what to expect going to stay with an Indian family. It was certainly a stretching time. I do feel that I learned a lot, but I still don’t know how much of a “real” Indian experience I got. My family was very educated, Nimmi (the mother) worked for Greenpeace India, and the father, Deena, had been trained as a clergy, but now worked in other areas. They had two teenage boys (which was fortunate, as they possessed a perspective I was very interested to gain) one in ninth and the other in his first year of college. They also had a Muslim boy living with them, whose family situation was "not good." Apparently he was to act as sort of a maid, but came with no domestic skills to speak of.

Most of the time, I felt a bit uncomfortable. I think this mostly came from the language barriers. The whole family did speak English fluently, and indeed probably spoke in English more than half the time (and always while they were speaking to me). However, the half they did not speak in English often was the second half of phrases and even sentences, so I would just not understand what was going on. However, whatever language they used, I was interested to see that it was always peppered by the phrase “Oh Shit!” Every member of the family seemed to like to swear.

The first evening there, I accompanied the father and younger son to the hospital, as the boy had had some minor trouble with his ears and was going for a follow-up appointment. That was quite the experience. This hospital was one that tended to cater to the poor community, and to keep costs low, they had to make some cuts. In this case, those cuts were in maintenance. The building looked straight up dilapidated. However, they kept it pretty clean, as I was reminded as the blast of disinfected hit my nostrils as we walked in. Not the place I might choose to go, but they seemed to give pretty good and reasonably priced care. I had an interesting discussion on the fact that in the U.S., though our hospitals might look a little nicer, behind practically every one was a very rich person getting very much richer, and many poor couldn’t afford medical care of any kind.

On Sunday we went to St. Mark’s, an English speaking church, affiliated with the Church of South India (CSI). It was a beautiful building. Apparently, on the corner outside the church was a statue of the Mahatma, so it was the sight of many political protests. And, indeed, while we sat in the stuffy church (they had closed all the windows to try to muffle the sound) we could hear the chanting of angry voices.

After church, there was a family gathering at our house, and the place became a bustling center of activity. I learned (some of) the rules of cricket, and felt very odd, quiet, and out of place. It seemed that all of the extended family that was not present (and some that was) worked in the IT industry, and were all very well to do also. They put on a Bollywood movie (“Rock On”) that luckily had English translations, but they were horribly done, and some quite funny. Also, I was reminded of how long those movies are, as it took us well into the evening.

I get the sense that I was in a very well to do, westernized family. For the boys, the big hang out places were the mall and relatively posh coffee shops. Our conversations about Indian culture tended to focused on what was changing, which evidently is everything. At the same time, I sensed (and observed) a much stronger family focus than what I am accustomed to in the United States. I would say my family is above average in that department, but there still are many meals and events that are rather “optional” for everyone to be in attendance. Here, it was different. Everyone was at every meal, the boys went to church with us on Sunday morning, and I got the sense that the boys did what their parents asked them. Always.

The food was excellent. It seemed there was always someone making something in the kitchen, and we never had a meal with less than five different offerings of food. The first day I nearly ate myself sick.

I wonder if they will remember me a year from now. I felt rather helpless all weekend. But even in an observer role, it was an amazing experience to see how family works in this part of the world.