Thursday, March 3, 2011

Moushumi

The other night Kyle and I were talking about how hard it is to share this life with folks back home. Things that were a big deal in the past – but there were bigger things going on at the time and I didn't think to share other stuff. Or you just forget that something might be out of the ordinary – or of interest to those of you who don't live here. Things that are just so normal I forget to share them.

Things like we don't have 24 hour water. Our water comes for a few hours a day and we pump it up to a holding tank. And sometimes – with the perfect combination of circumstances we run out of water (its usually when we have guest over too...)

Things like we cook with gas – but not an unlimited supply gas line like in the US – with a gas cylinder...which can run out (in the middle of cooking a meal)...and if you haven't planned ahead, you may run out of gas for a few days.

Things like always needing change (as in small money notes and coins). I’m not sure why, but there seems to be an endless shortage of change in this city. It frustrates me. Its like I'm always stuck playing this, "do I have enough small money" game...using 500 Rs (about $11) notes whenever I can to get 100 Rs (about $2) notes as change, and always breaking 100 Rs notes so I can get 50, 20, or 10 Rs notes that can actually be used for public transportation and snack purchasing. I hate this small money game. I wish I could stop playing...but I can't...to stop will mean being stranded somewhere in the city, with plenty of money, but it not being in usable denominations.

I usually eat with my hands. Indian food is best enjoyed with your hand (on a metal plate...plates, bowls, and cups here are all stainless steel). You might think its hard to eat rice with your hand...but there's a way...you learn how...you get better at it with time.

Its not strange for us to eat dinner at 8, or 9pm – occasionally later (if that's the way the schedule works that day)...and that's an early dinner around here. Most of my friends eat dinner at 10 or 11. (tonight i ate dinner around 9:45)

My friends call me Moushumi. Its my Bengali name. Melissa is a strange name here – hard to pronounce. Hard to remember. So back in 2007 when I was here on my servant team, I was given a Bengali name by the Sari Bari ladies. The Sari Bari staff calls me Moushumi...everyone here (except my western friends) call me Moushumi. Its how I introduce myself when I meet new friends. Its who I am over here.

...i just thought you should know.

1 comment:

Mallary said...

I didn't know your name was Moushumi! That is really interesting. . .like you have a different identity in India. I have a Chinese name, but only my Chinese tutor uses it. (Ma li na)

And we have the same small change problem! We totally know how you feel. We think it is an Asian problem--we experienced it in Thailand and Indonesia, too.