As volunteers move on

March 15th, 2008 by Bronwen Mander

I guess I have settled into a “normality” after six weeks in Kolkata, even though I still walk down the street looking at everything with astonishment. The two things that I continue to find most difficult are the hygiene and the staring. The language barrier can be a bit tiring too, and I wish that I had pursued my intention of learning either Hindi or Bengali from the very beginning. However, I have adapted to using non-verbal communication quite well (I think I’ve got the silent gestures and Indian head nods down pat, now).

When I arrived here at the beginning of February, there were 11 volunteers from GVN. I see in retrospect that this really was a blessing. Even though I had prepared myself well, and I had already spent some days in Mumbai, my arrival here still came with a shock. The extreme poverty, disorder and filth of Kolkata had been unimaginable. Even the accommodation, Monica House, whilst in some ways was better than I expected (well, it does have showers and Western toilets after all), its starkness, dirtiness and hard bed just added to my initial distress. So, the other volunteers who had been in Kolkata for a few weeks, or even just a few days, were a great relief.

The volunteer group was like a family, even though we were from a diverse range of countries, Austria, Australia, US, UK and Ireland. We’d jam onto one table to breakfast in the mornings, and then most of us would have dinner together in the evenings when Pritish, our Indian caterer, delivered his array of Bengali curries – vegetable dishes, of potatoes, cauliflower and jackfruit; chick pea Chana Masala; spicy đal; fried fish or Khashi mutton (goat) for those desperate for meat; along with chaţni (chutney) and chapattis. Or, crammed into maniacal auto rickshaws, we’d shoot up to one of the grand but old cinemas to see terrible English-language films before having dinner at one of the more expensive restaurants in Park St. Gradually, most volunteers have moved on and there are now just four of us. We comfortably make our own way around which makes for fun in exploring different things and a lot of peaceful time, especially as Monica House is getting very quiet with currently only round ten residents in total.

Whilst it requires some energy to take myself out to eat in the evening (there are no cooking or heating facilities at Monica House, and safe eating places are usually an auto rickshaw ride away), it is good to explore different eating places and foods. One of my favorite eating places, discovered by other volunteers, is Khwaja in Sudder St where they serve great curries and paratha, a layered whole-wheat flatbread cooked with ghee, at good prices. Sudder St is where most of the tourists can be found. It is also located rather close to New Market, where men carrying empty broad baskets accost you even before you get close to the door, hoping they can whisk you off to their preferred stall (usually a fabric stall) where they will get a bonus from them and a tip from you. Generally, my only reason for braving the hustlers at New Market now is to buy fantastic brown bread and sometimes cakes at a great Jewish bakery. Brown bread is hard to find here, and good brown bread even harder.

We’ve gradually learnt what we can buy and eat. Lori and I are now in the habit of eating cucumber, tomatoes and carrots. These have to be peeled before eating, so that we don’t get sick. That means we avoid other vegetables like lettuce. I eat a lot of bananas (around 5 for R10) which are always nice, but sometimes I’ve ventured out to eating a very ordinary, and expensive (R10 each), apple, peeled of course. The market down the road from our accommodation has become my favorite destination. Here I buy my fruit and vegetables, curd (yoghurt) and packet instant cappuccino (cinnamon flavoured of course) for those desperate coffee times. I have become more daring by eating food from street stalls, which we are advised not to do. I don’t eat any curry type foods that are usually cooked early and left to sit for some time. I prefer to see the food being cooked and I eat it fresh, but I limit myself to breads and cakes. I have befriended the local sweets maker and discovered a little “no beef” eatery for the locals down the street that makes great tandoori roti. Many of the eateries are sign-posted “no beef” as Muslims eat beef (Hindus don’t). And just near to these shops is located a stall that serves delicious chai (pronounced “char” in Bengal) tea in tiny clay cups that are thrown on the ground when finished and left for the street sweeper to clean up the next morning.