As someone who is used to going against the tide I was surprised with myself that during the last three days I just went with the flow. I’ve heard some volunteers say “go with the flow” referring to how they dealt with happenings in their placements. I couldn’t really grasp it until the retreat our organization had last week.
It was called a retreat but it didn’t fall under my category so I’d rather call it a welcome break from monotony of work. The departure from office was set at 3 pm, Thursday; went to office in the morning and did whatever work I could finish before we took a three-day off. I already packed in the morning but left my luggage at home as my flat is one-minute walk away so I just picked it up right after lunch at 2 pm. I was back in the office by 2:30. Two maxi-cabs were waiting outside, everyone was just getting tidied up and prepping to go. I smiled at the thought that we might just leave on time. Alas, we didn’t.
For some reason, even as we have all loaded up our bags in the vans we just didn’t leave right away. Most of us were either standing next to the vans or at the front door of the office, waiting… waiting… No one appeared impatient but I and F, the other volunteer. The time that passed seemed like eternity because we didn’t know what we were waiting for. We found out later that some people went some place to get a few more things we’d need for the retreat. (took a deep breath, no use grumbling).
Fast forward to the retreat up in Yelagiri Hills. (A post about Yelagiri Hills coming up soon, or you can just google)
April 29, 8:30 pm. With the one hour delay in departure time the planned agenda instantly changed. After dinner we had a brief orientation and postponed playing Tambola till the following day. Tambola is an Italian game like BINGO, but without the letters B-I-N-G-O, and the numbers to be drawn were up to 90 instead of 75.
April 30, At 6:30 am the men were already in the field readying for our cricket match when I and F got there. Indians are passionate about cricket and know the sport by heart. While I, being a Filipino, am utterly ignorant of how the game is played, and couldn’t make a sense out of it even after trying to watch the IPL. Still unacquainted with the rules I found myself
a member of one team. Asking about the rules didn’t help because no one explained. They know the game and it was enough. Just go with the flow.
I took the bat and positioned myself in the base, I didn’t know that I had to protect the wicket behind me (three poles standing at the base) and just tried to hit the ball thrown at me by the bowler (the pitcher in baseball). I managed to hit a no-run ball a few times, and one when I was told to run and exchange places with one of our team players standing next to the bowler. Run I did. My Indian colleagues seemed to be enjoying the game, some of them shouting words that didn’t mean anything to me, “5 balls, 7 runs”, “over”, “four”. I didn’t know what was happening but at least I knew who were my team mates. I cheered for them regardless if it was called for or not. My team lost the game, how and why I had no inkling at all.
After breakfast we went to the session hall, located in the basement of our hostel, to play Tambola. This time, because not every one knew how the game
is played, there was an instruction. Cool. What I couldn’t understand was why D who directed the game after every number was called, kept blowing the whistle with great intensity in a large almost empty room that a whisper would be amplified ten times. I was sitting next to him. Remember that there were 90 tiles to be drawn, winner emerged only after one managed to block out all 15 numbers in his/her ticket. There was no winner until the 85th tile, that meant 85 times he blew the whistle. If ever I won, the prize wouldn’t have been enough to pay for the ear doctor.
When one round of Tambola was over, F and I ran an activity on communication. We divided the group into 3 and asked each of them to complete their puzzles as quickly as possible. We were given an hour for the entire activity, including a short discussion afterwards. Half an hour passed and the teams were still struggling with their puzzles (for kids aged 3++).
What made it difficult was we had the pieces mixed up, and didn’t tell them, so each team needed to negotiate with another if they wanted to complete their puzzles. The activity took longer than expected because no one wanted to stop. No amount of whistling from F helped, they just did what they wanted to do. Everything I learned about facilitation of group dynamics exercise vanished. Well, they were having fun and it was a rest and recreation for them. Just go with the flow.
The power was on and off the entire day, towards the afternoon the sky dimmed and it started raining, the bonfire in the evening was out of the question now. Other plans changed as well and I didn’t know why. Going to the local market was not in the to-do list but after lunch we went anyway, it being Yelagiri’s market day.
The market day meant producers from all over the town assmebled in one place. We saw enormous jackfruits and homemade honey, other than that there was nothing to fancy.
It seemed like we were taking each hour at a time, did whatever was convenient at the given time. From the market we proceeded to Nature Park, though the YMCA compound where we stayed looked more natural . It was basically a huge fenced
garden with few benches and a tea stall. The fun thing to do was skipping your way around the park dodging the sprinklers which were all turned on the time we visited.
We wanted to check out a waterfall downhill but from where we were standing we could not see water falling. A visit to Wikitravel confirms that April is not a good time to see the falls, which I just found out is called Jalagamaparai. In fact any time of the year may not be a good time because again, according to Wikitravel, there has been no water in the falls for the last five years.
Power was still out when we came back to YMCA, right in time for tea. I had no idea what we’d do next. I don’t know if it’s because my colleagues spoke Tamil most of the time that I could barely make out what they were discussing. I had a copy of the 3-day program with me but that seemed to be completely useless at the time. Obviously the plan was being revised every hour but no one would explain to me and F unless we asked. And often, even if we asked the reply we’d get was “polama” (let’s go) . When it got dark, I followed some colleagues as they walked towards the chartered maxi-cab. K, the ever-efficient staff was counting the people standing next to the vehicle, next thing I knew we were boarding the maxi-cab to go back to the market. Oh well, I could use another bottle of Sprite and a bar of Kitkat.
May 1. Back in the field at 6:30, tomatoes and water in sachets were laid on the ground like a maze, the original cricket players were there. We would play a game called Boys versus Girls (i wonder if there was any debate before they arrived at the best name for the game). Only one person knew what was the game about so there was an instruction in Tamil and English, thank goodness. All men in one team, all women in another. One at a time, a team member was blindfolded, the rest of the team will guide him/her through the maze. The objective is to get to the other side of the maze without stepping on the tomatoes and packets of water. Men scored 3, we scored 2.
To my delight, there were very specific instructions today. After the Boys versus girls, there’s breakfast, “pack all your things, we meet at nine am”. “Where do we put our bags?”, asked F. “Pack your things and I will tell you later”, was the reply. Aghh, was it too much to ask?
Someone said we’d depart at 9, but we gathered at the basement instead. Half of us were already there, the other half… waiting..waiting.. faces gloomy now.
Half an hour later everyone finally came. there was an awarding ceremony for the game winners. If I knew it, I would have joined more games. (I missed the volleyball match). Then time to go, move out, go for boating and a biryani lunch on the way back to Chennai. The trip back to the city was uneventful, and so was the waiting before we actually left YMCA. For a good one hour we were just sitting inside the vans waiting…waiting… by this time I no longer cared what was keeping us. 
I didn’t pack a good amount of patience from home, being here in India however the little supply I have seemed to be multiplying on a daily basis. Months of being here taught me that there is no sense of urgency here. I think this is what is meant when they say life is slow in India.
The other thing is lack of fluency in the spoken language inhibits me from fully grasping t the minute details. I feel my colleagues have become well acquainted with me that they tend to forget I can’t understand their language, without meaning to exclude me from any discussion.
As a volunteer i know that in some ways i have to create a flow, but there are times when the best thing to do is to just go with the flow. It makes life bearable and i don't miss the fun.
It was called a retreat but it didn’t fall under my category so I’d rather call it a welcome break from monotony of work. The departure from office was set at 3 pm, Thursday; went to office in the morning and did whatever work I could finish before we took a three-day off. I already packed in the morning but left my luggage at home as my flat is one-minute walk away so I just picked it up right after lunch at 2 pm. I was back in the office by 2:30. Two maxi-cabs were waiting outside, everyone was just getting tidied up and prepping to go. I smiled at the thought that we might just leave on time. Alas, we didn’t.
For some reason, even as we have all loaded up our bags in the vans we just didn’t leave right away. Most of us were either standing next to the vans or at the front door of the office, waiting… waiting… No one appeared impatient but I and F, the other volunteer. The time that passed seemed like eternity because we didn’t know what we were waiting for. We found out later that some people went some place to get a few more things we’d need for the retreat. (took a deep breath, no use grumbling).
Fast forward to the retreat up in Yelagiri Hills. (A post about Yelagiri Hills coming up soon, or you can just google)
April 29, 8:30 pm. With the one hour delay in departure time the planned agenda instantly changed. After dinner we had a brief orientation and postponed playing Tambola till the following day. Tambola is an Italian game like BINGO, but without the letters B-I-N-G-O, and the numbers to be drawn were up to 90 instead of 75.
April 30, At 6:30 am the men were already in the field readying for our cricket match when I and F got there. Indians are passionate about cricket and know the sport by heart. While I, being a Filipino, am utterly ignorant of how the game is played, and couldn’t make a sense out of it even after trying to watch the IPL. Still unacquainted with the rules I found myself
a member of one team. Asking about the rules didn’t help because no one explained. They know the game and it was enough. Just go with the flow. I took the bat and positioned myself in the base, I didn’t know that I had to protect the wicket behind me (three poles standing at the base) and just tried to hit the ball thrown at me by the bowler (the pitcher in baseball). I managed to hit a no-run ball a few times, and one when I was told to run and exchange places with one of our team players standing next to the bowler. Run I did. My Indian colleagues seemed to be enjoying the game, some of them shouting words that didn’t mean anything to me, “5 balls, 7 runs”, “over”, “four”. I didn’t know what was happening but at least I knew who were my team mates. I cheered for them regardless if it was called for or not. My team lost the game, how and why I had no inkling at all.
After breakfast we went to the session hall, located in the basement of our hostel, to play Tambola. This time, because not every one knew how the game
is played, there was an instruction. Cool. What I couldn’t understand was why D who directed the game after every number was called, kept blowing the whistle with great intensity in a large almost empty room that a whisper would be amplified ten times. I was sitting next to him. Remember that there were 90 tiles to be drawn, winner emerged only after one managed to block out all 15 numbers in his/her ticket. There was no winner until the 85th tile, that meant 85 times he blew the whistle. If ever I won, the prize wouldn’t have been enough to pay for the ear doctor.When one round of Tambola was over, F and I ran an activity on communication. We divided the group into 3 and asked each of them to complete their puzzles as quickly as possible. We were given an hour for the entire activity, including a short discussion afterwards. Half an hour passed and the teams were still struggling with their puzzles (for kids aged 3++).
What made it difficult was we had the pieces mixed up, and didn’t tell them, so each team needed to negotiate with another if they wanted to complete their puzzles. The activity took longer than expected because no one wanted to stop. No amount of whistling from F helped, they just did what they wanted to do. Everything I learned about facilitation of group dynamics exercise vanished. Well, they were having fun and it was a rest and recreation for them. Just go with the flow.The power was on and off the entire day, towards the afternoon the sky dimmed and it started raining, the bonfire in the evening was out of the question now. Other plans changed as well and I didn’t know why. Going to the local market was not in the to-do list but after lunch we went anyway, it being Yelagiri’s market day.
The market day meant producers from all over the town assmebled in one place. We saw enormous jackfruits and homemade honey, other than that there was nothing to fancy. It seemed like we were taking each hour at a time, did whatever was convenient at the given time. From the market we proceeded to Nature Park, though the YMCA compound where we stayed looked more natural . It was basically a huge fenced
garden with few benches and a tea stall. The fun thing to do was skipping your way around the park dodging the sprinklers which were all turned on the time we visited.We wanted to check out a waterfall downhill but from where we were standing we could not see water falling. A visit to Wikitravel confirms that April is not a good time to see the falls, which I just found out is called Jalagamaparai. In fact any time of the year may not be a good time because again, according to Wikitravel, there has been no water in the falls for the last five years.
Power was still out when we came back to YMCA, right in time for tea. I had no idea what we’d do next. I don’t know if it’s because my colleagues spoke Tamil most of the time that I could barely make out what they were discussing. I had a copy of the 3-day program with me but that seemed to be completely useless at the time. Obviously the plan was being revised every hour but no one would explain to me and F unless we asked. And often, even if we asked the reply we’d get was “polama” (let’s go) . When it got dark, I followed some colleagues as they walked towards the chartered maxi-cab. K, the ever-efficient staff was counting the people standing next to the vehicle, next thing I knew we were boarding the maxi-cab to go back to the market. Oh well, I could use another bottle of Sprite and a bar of Kitkat.
May 1. Back in the field at 6:30, tomatoes and water in sachets were laid on the ground like a maze, the original cricket players were there. We would play a game called Boys versus Girls (i wonder if there was any debate before they arrived at the best name for the game). Only one person knew what was the game about so there was an instruction in Tamil and English, thank goodness. All men in one team, all women in another. One at a time, a team member was blindfolded, the rest of the team will guide him/her through the maze. The objective is to get to the other side of the maze without stepping on the tomatoes and packets of water. Men scored 3, we scored 2.
To my delight, there were very specific instructions today. After the Boys versus girls, there’s breakfast, “pack all your things, we meet at nine am”. “Where do we put our bags?”, asked F. “Pack your things and I will tell you later”, was the reply. Aghh, was it too much to ask?
Someone said we’d depart at 9, but we gathered at the basement instead. Half of us were already there, the other half… waiting..waiting.. faces gloomy now.
Half an hour later everyone finally came. there was an awarding ceremony for the game winners. If I knew it, I would have joined more games. (I missed the volleyball match). Then time to go, move out, go for boating and a biryani lunch on the way back to Chennai. The trip back to the city was uneventful, and so was the waiting before we actually left YMCA. For a good one hour we were just sitting inside the vans waiting…waiting… by this time I no longer cared what was keeping us. 
I didn’t pack a good amount of patience from home, being here in India however the little supply I have seemed to be multiplying on a daily basis. Months of being here taught me that there is no sense of urgency here. I think this is what is meant when they say life is slow in India.
The other thing is lack of fluency in the spoken language inhibits me from fully grasping t the minute details. I feel my colleagues have become well acquainted with me that they tend to forget I can’t understand their language, without meaning to exclude me from any discussion.
As a volunteer i know that in some ways i have to create a flow, but there are times when the best thing to do is to just go with the flow. It makes life bearable and i don't miss the fun.
Len, as you are now moving with the flow, you seem to be more relaxed in your writing. I am excited to hear more of your stories in India.
ReplyDeleteHi, Len!
ReplyDeleteHahaha, I enjoyed reading this post! It's amazing once you realize how "un-relaxed" pala tayo dito in our work 'no? Hope you are enjoying going with the flow as a way of life now.