Every other letter of this neighborhood is an A. There's got to be a better way.
The helmet's a good idea, but in a wreck, I'd be more worried about that tank of gas at your feet.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Two Photos
Every other letter of this neighborhood is an A. There's got to be a better way.
The helmet's a good idea, but in a wreck, I'd be more worried about that tank of gas at your feet.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Diwali
November 5 was Diwali. Some sort of festival about Krishna or Rama or one of those gods. I’m hazy on the details. All I know is this is the holiday when Indians light fireworks, and Diwali is more of a week-long thing than just one day.
Diwali is a Hindu holiday, which makes it more popular in the north than down here. There are still plenty of Hindus here, but it isn’t quite as concentrated–lots of Muslims and... miscellaneous. I’m also in a relatively calm neighborhood. Which made it all the more surprising to experience five hours of war noises throughout Koramangala. Seriously, this place sounded like the footage you got from reporters embedded in the Iraq War. Distant explosions, constant rat-tat-tat-tat-tats, and the occasional close BOOM! From what I could tell, nobody was really interested in the bright, shiny fireworks. This was really more about the loud stuff and blowing things up. This made me assume Diwali was a celebration of the time Lakshmi blew open a diamond mine.
Diwali is one of dozens of holidays in India. As you can see, there’s basically a holiday at least once a week, year-round: http://www.thisismyindia.com/nationalholidays.html. But that’s only part of the story, as there are tons more religious holidays, which are observed in some states but not others, and trying to figure out exactly when your business may be closed is quite a task: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_holidays_in_India. For example, Nov. 1 was Karnataka Day, the state’s celebration of itself. Some people observed this, but not all, so my first day in our office space was me alone. Compare this to Diwali, when the office was locked. The day after Diwali, though, is also some sort of Holiday, which was observed by Citibank, but only Karnataka Citibanks, which created some problems for Sanju. Neither of us can explain this, because this wasn’t Karnataka Day, this was a Hindu holiday, which supposedly wasn’t a big deal in this state. Are you confused yet? I sure am. I figure this is only about as confusing as trying to explain Casimir Pulaski Day to someone from outside Illinois, though, so I can’t totally fault the Indians as backwards on this one.
Anyway, the general system is that everyone takes off the three national holidays, while the rest of the holidays are sort of hit or miss. Spin the wheel and see if a particular business is closing for a particular holiday. Or just hope that that business dealt with it by having a diverse enough employee pool that they can absorb some off-days. Sorta like how we have Jewish doctors to work on Christmas. I think India probably does pretty well with that. Citibanks may have been closed today, but most stores were open even yesterday, with reduced hours. And of course Sanju’s Muslim maid came. We’ll see what she does when Eid al-Fitr rolls around
Diwali is a Hindu holiday, which makes it more popular in the north than down here. There are still plenty of Hindus here, but it isn’t quite as concentrated–lots of Muslims and... miscellaneous. I’m also in a relatively calm neighborhood. Which made it all the more surprising to experience five hours of war noises throughout Koramangala. Seriously, this place sounded like the footage you got from reporters embedded in the Iraq War. Distant explosions, constant rat-tat-tat-tat-tats, and the occasional close BOOM! From what I could tell, nobody was really interested in the bright, shiny fireworks. This was really more about the loud stuff and blowing things up. This made me assume Diwali was a celebration of the time Lakshmi blew open a diamond mine.
Diwali is one of dozens of holidays in India. As you can see, there’s basically a holiday at least once a week, year-round: http://www.thisismyindia.com/nationalholidays.html. But that’s only part of the story, as there are tons more religious holidays, which are observed in some states but not others, and trying to figure out exactly when your business may be closed is quite a task: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_holidays_in_India. For example, Nov. 1 was Karnataka Day, the state’s celebration of itself. Some people observed this, but not all, so my first day in our office space was me alone. Compare this to Diwali, when the office was locked. The day after Diwali, though, is also some sort of Holiday, which was observed by Citibank, but only Karnataka Citibanks, which created some problems for Sanju. Neither of us can explain this, because this wasn’t Karnataka Day, this was a Hindu holiday, which supposedly wasn’t a big deal in this state. Are you confused yet? I sure am. I figure this is only about as confusing as trying to explain Casimir Pulaski Day to someone from outside Illinois, though, so I can’t totally fault the Indians as backwards on this one.
Anyway, the general system is that everyone takes off the three national holidays, while the rest of the holidays are sort of hit or miss. Spin the wheel and see if a particular business is closing for a particular holiday. Or just hope that that business dealt with it by having a diverse enough employee pool that they can absorb some off-days. Sorta like how we have Jewish doctors to work on Christmas. I think India probably does pretty well with that. Citibanks may have been closed today, but most stores were open even yesterday, with reduced hours. And of course Sanju’s Muslim maid came. We’ll see what she does when Eid al-Fitr rolls around
Friday, November 5, 2010
Lost in Suburban Bangalore, Part 3: BR Pura
I went on my second slum tour the other day, to BR Pura. It’s actually some sort of much larger name, but it’s abbreviated and spoken as BR Pura. The Indians may have really long names, but they aren’t shy about abbreviations and initials. Some famous actors and politicians are simply known by two initials and a last name.
Anyway, this one was much closer than Channapatna, so Sanju just dropped me off at it. Again, I was on the back of a two-wheeler, this time with a 250-300lb woman up front in place of Mr. Kumar. Sanju said this would’ve made the perfect profile shot for Facebook, but sadly, I wasn’t thinking of that. We headed off and wound around some country roads before arriving at the first house.
These slums in BR Pura weren’t really even slums, though, which was sort of anticlimactic. Channapatna was definitely worse. Of the five houses I visited, at least 3 had TVs, and one seemed nice enough to live in, with a washing machine to boot. The houses this time were all well-molded concrete, rather than the lumpy, slanty clay of Channapatna. There was even a school. At about 1:00, the streets were full of kids in uniforms, and one of the meetings was right next to the playground during recess for, I’ll say, 3rd or 4th graders. Several women were late to the second meeting because they were stuck at their jobs. Whereas in Channapatna I had no idea what people did with their time, these women (not dressed all in black this time) had what seemed to be stable jobs.
So this wound up being more of a neighborhood tour than a slum show. But I actually really appreciated that aspect of this. I don’t know what any of these women were actually using the money for, but it could’ve been a lot of things. Most of us think of microfinance as lending to women to buy a sewing machine, but here a lot of it is just basic household loans. Some use the money to send their kids to school, and I was told of at least one person who’d bought a two-wheeler with Ujjivan providing the credit. Which is, really, exactly what we’d use loans for. Most Americans are repaying loans, be they student loans, car loans, or a mortgage. Access to credit is a necessity. Microfinance just brings that access to the destitute, as in Channapatna, and the lower class, as in BR Pura. It is somewhat jarring to think that even somewhat well-to-do, employed people can’t get credit, even in a country with a state bank. You could make a pretty good argument that the poor stay poor just because they can’t borrow at reasonable rates, and that access to banking services is one of the third world’s most critical needs. Think of all that we can do because of loans that we couldn’t otherwise do. Think of how many rungs we would drop on the social ladder if we had to pay cash up front for college, housing, and cars. That’s how many rungs we can raise people through loans.
The women at the last meeting apaprently really wanted to talk to me, but we had nothing close to a shared language. One was able to yell “sir! Hello!” at me, which worked. Couldn’t exchange many ideas that way. Honestly, I wanted to ask them why the hell they like the Chicago Bulls so much, since I’d seen more motorcycles in BR Pura with Bulls stickers on them. For a country that plays no basketball, they do like the Bulls. Maybe they’re just into surplus 90s memorabilia. My mom speculates that it's a Hindu thing, what with the cow worship and all. Could be right.
When we were done, we stopped at a small... convenience store food stall thing... to split a pack of biscuits and some juice. Don’t worry-–it was a juice box. The guy behind the counter started talking in Kanada, and I picked out Obama. He saw me and mentioned about Obama coming to visit India. A couple days later, I was with some friends here, and one was unaware of Obama’s coming visit. So he’s beaten on current events by... the biscuit/juice guy in BR Pura.
On the way back, I couldn’t find a rickshaw to take me all the way to Koramangala, our neighborhood which is on the opposite end of town. I was able to, however, get one to take to MG Road (super bonus points if you can figure out what MG stands for... don’t overthink it). MG Road is a sort of downtown, although this town has many. It’s near the Tibetan Marketplace where I bought my phone, and is a haven for beggars who have no qualms with leaning inside your rickshaw and touching you (I carry sanitizer, don’t worry). From MG Road I got another rickshaw back to Koramangala, all for about $3 US. That’s pretty much all the way across Bangalore. Meat and milk are expensive in this country, but sweet Jesus are the services cheap.
Note: To repeat, I’m not working in microfinance. Sanju used to work for Ujjivan and set up these tours for me. That’s my only connection to this industry.
Anyway, this one was much closer than Channapatna, so Sanju just dropped me off at it. Again, I was on the back of a two-wheeler, this time with a 250-300lb woman up front in place of Mr. Kumar. Sanju said this would’ve made the perfect profile shot for Facebook, but sadly, I wasn’t thinking of that. We headed off and wound around some country roads before arriving at the first house.
These slums in BR Pura weren’t really even slums, though, which was sort of anticlimactic. Channapatna was definitely worse. Of the five houses I visited, at least 3 had TVs, and one seemed nice enough to live in, with a washing machine to boot. The houses this time were all well-molded concrete, rather than the lumpy, slanty clay of Channapatna. There was even a school. At about 1:00, the streets were full of kids in uniforms, and one of the meetings was right next to the playground during recess for, I’ll say, 3rd or 4th graders. Several women were late to the second meeting because they were stuck at their jobs. Whereas in Channapatna I had no idea what people did with their time, these women (not dressed all in black this time) had what seemed to be stable jobs.
So this wound up being more of a neighborhood tour than a slum show. But I actually really appreciated that aspect of this. I don’t know what any of these women were actually using the money for, but it could’ve been a lot of things. Most of us think of microfinance as lending to women to buy a sewing machine, but here a lot of it is just basic household loans. Some use the money to send their kids to school, and I was told of at least one person who’d bought a two-wheeler with Ujjivan providing the credit. Which is, really, exactly what we’d use loans for. Most Americans are repaying loans, be they student loans, car loans, or a mortgage. Access to credit is a necessity. Microfinance just brings that access to the destitute, as in Channapatna, and the lower class, as in BR Pura. It is somewhat jarring to think that even somewhat well-to-do, employed people can’t get credit, even in a country with a state bank. You could make a pretty good argument that the poor stay poor just because they can’t borrow at reasonable rates, and that access to banking services is one of the third world’s most critical needs. Think of all that we can do because of loans that we couldn’t otherwise do. Think of how many rungs we would drop on the social ladder if we had to pay cash up front for college, housing, and cars. That’s how many rungs we can raise people through loans.
The women at the last meeting apaprently really wanted to talk to me, but we had nothing close to a shared language. One was able to yell “sir! Hello!” at me, which worked. Couldn’t exchange many ideas that way. Honestly, I wanted to ask them why the hell they like the Chicago Bulls so much, since I’d seen more motorcycles in BR Pura with Bulls stickers on them. For a country that plays no basketball, they do like the Bulls. Maybe they’re just into surplus 90s memorabilia. My mom speculates that it's a Hindu thing, what with the cow worship and all. Could be right.
When we were done, we stopped at a small... convenience store food stall thing... to split a pack of biscuits and some juice. Don’t worry-–it was a juice box. The guy behind the counter started talking in Kanada, and I picked out Obama. He saw me and mentioned about Obama coming to visit India. A couple days later, I was with some friends here, and one was unaware of Obama’s coming visit. So he’s beaten on current events by... the biscuit/juice guy in BR Pura.
On the way back, I couldn’t find a rickshaw to take me all the way to Koramangala, our neighborhood which is on the opposite end of town. I was able to, however, get one to take to MG Road (super bonus points if you can figure out what MG stands for... don’t overthink it). MG Road is a sort of downtown, although this town has many. It’s near the Tibetan Marketplace where I bought my phone, and is a haven for beggars who have no qualms with leaning inside your rickshaw and touching you (I carry sanitizer, don’t worry). From MG Road I got another rickshaw back to Koramangala, all for about $3 US. That’s pretty much all the way across Bangalore. Meat and milk are expensive in this country, but sweet Jesus are the services cheap.
Note: To repeat, I’m not working in microfinance. Sanju used to work for Ujjivan and set up these tours for me. That’s my only connection to this industry.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Indian Halloween
I went to a Halloween party last weekend, and I must say, the Indians pulled it together.
Sanju went as some sort of she-devil, replacing her standard fare of going as a Jedi. I wanted to go as Manmohan Singh, but our attempts at putting a turban together just made me look like a fortune teller, and I also lacked the appropriate Indian dress clothing. I wound up just putting on a wife beater and my shades, which vaguely made me look like I was wearing some sort of costume. Look weird enough and it counts, right? It wasn’t nearly as good as my liquidity crisis costume from 2008, but it was the best I could do out of suitcases.
A few of the hosts were dressed as Chilean miners. I thought this was great, but when I got back, I found my facebook feed flooded with comments about Chilean miner costumes. So maybe they were only as creative as many others. I’d like to think, though, that since our party was 10.5 hours ahead, that everybody in the US must’ve been copying these guys.
When we arrived, there was a man standing next to the elevator to open the door for us. Somewhat standard fare, except in this building, the guy also opens the door for you, without riding the elevator with you. Which means that as soon as he closes the door, he bolts up a few flights of stairs to meet you. Really bizarre things happen with labor gets too cheap.
Sanju went as some sort of she-devil, replacing her standard fare of going as a Jedi. I wanted to go as Manmohan Singh, but our attempts at putting a turban together just made me look like a fortune teller, and I also lacked the appropriate Indian dress clothing. I wound up just putting on a wife beater and my shades, which vaguely made me look like I was wearing some sort of costume. Look weird enough and it counts, right? It wasn’t nearly as good as my liquidity crisis costume from 2008, but it was the best I could do out of suitcases.
A few of the hosts were dressed as Chilean miners. I thought this was great, but when I got back, I found my facebook feed flooded with comments about Chilean miner costumes. So maybe they were only as creative as many others. I’d like to think, though, that since our party was 10.5 hours ahead, that everybody in the US must’ve been copying these guys.
When we arrived, there was a man standing next to the elevator to open the door for us. Somewhat standard fare, except in this building, the guy also opens the door for you, without riding the elevator with you. Which means that as soon as he closes the door, he bolts up a few flights of stairs to meet you. Really bizarre things happen with labor gets too cheap.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Two Addenda: Beggars and Eunuchs
First, about the recent beggars post: you don’t give the kids large containers of biscuits. If they’re too large, they’ll try to sell them back to a local shop, defeating the purpose of giving the biscuits instead of change. But this raises more questions. If they sell the biscuits, doesn’t that indicate that they do, in fact, want the change more than the biscuits? And don’t we want to give the kids what they want? You give the biscuits because you assume the kid enjoys the biscuits, but is just giving the change away. But if they want the change instead of the biscuits, that indicates that they do get some utility out of the change, suggesting that the useless change hypothesis is false. I’d need to know more about the structure of these begging outfits to really know how to approach this.
Second, about the eunuchs. My mom asked, simply, “why are there still eunuchs?” Good question. First, many eunuchs are just transgendered men, living their lives as women. In those cases, the term "eunuch" is a misnomer. In addition, though, there are true eunuchs among them. The eunuchs are organized. I don’t want to say it’s like the Teamsters, but they have their own community and they stick together. When intersexual children are born, they are frequently shipped off to the eunuch community to be operated on and raised. So eunuchs are still “made,” but out of intersexual children.
According to Sanju’s roommate, the eunuchs have negotiated for their own time slots at pools where time is split between male swim and female swim. The eunuchs also have a pretty good racket of showing up to marriages and birth ceremonies and demanding money in exchange for not cursing the marriage/child. People are so superstitious that this tends to work. Just pay the eunuchs and get them the hell out of there.
See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hijra_(South_Asia)
Second, about the eunuchs. My mom asked, simply, “why are there still eunuchs?” Good question. First, many eunuchs are just transgendered men, living their lives as women. In those cases, the term "eunuch" is a misnomer. In addition, though, there are true eunuchs among them. The eunuchs are organized. I don’t want to say it’s like the Teamsters, but they have their own community and they stick together. When intersexual children are born, they are frequently shipped off to the eunuch community to be operated on and raised. So eunuchs are still “made,” but out of intersexual children.
According to Sanju’s roommate, the eunuchs have negotiated for their own time slots at pools where time is split between male swim and female swim. The eunuchs also have a pretty good racket of showing up to marriages and birth ceremonies and demanding money in exchange for not cursing the marriage/child. People are so superstitious that this tends to work. Just pay the eunuchs and get them the hell out of there.
See also: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hijra_(South_Asia)
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