If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.
-Mother Teresa
Maybe it’s my age, the results of the US presidential election (nope, not ‘over it’ yet nor may I ever be), or the fact that I live in a developing country, but lately I have been having an existential crisis. Asking myself those terrifying questions that usually get blotted out by the noise and movement of everyday, like: What’s the point of my life? and Why am I here? Lately these aren’t questions that flit in and out of my brain and disappear with the chaos of daily life and let me be; they stalk and harass me, creating a great deal of anxiety and angst. Some nights instead of sleep, these questions plague me so much that I have to get out of bed to write about my attempts to answer them in the hopes of quelling my anxiety.
India is like a very generous friend who lets you be the worst version of yourself, and doesn’t ask for anything in return. It’s easy to take from this loving country without giving back. The people are warm and welcoming, labor and goods are cheap, and there are opportunities to experience luxurious living for middle class expats which aren’t available for those in our income bracket back home. If I wanted to spend my 2 years in Bangalore attending fancy brunches, being pampered by spa treatments, drinking afternoon cocktails, playing golf, going to expat playdates or BBQ’s, hitting up the best lounges and restaurants, learning tennis or sunbathing all day I could do all these things, and no one would make me feel guilty. That’s the expat experience. However, as anyone who has visited or lived in India knows, there are a lot of people in this country in need of a lot of help. A LOT. It’s an amazing place in so many ways, but the needs are overwhelming and many. It would be pretty difficult to not notice. And to see and not try to help out would make me a total asshole, which I prefer not to be if I can help it (and sometimes I can’t).
However, and a big HOWEVER, I am trying to do this in a way that doesn’t perpetuate the white savior narrative that is so common when white people of privilege, like me, try to ‘help,’ but really it’s all about our own big emotional experience and trying to ‘save’ others who aren’t as ‘blessed’ as we are. All that to say, I am trying to figure out how to be helpful in a country which needs so much help without 1) being unhelpful and 2) doing the helping for the wrong reasons. Thus, trying to figure out where to start going down the volunteering rabbit hole in India is complicated. Getting involved in a non-profit doing ‘good work,’ in whatever form that looks like, should be easy, but like most things in India and because of my background, lack of language skills, and skin color, it’s complicated. As soon as I got here I knew that if I wanted to live with myself I would need to do something other than take, but was this desire to help my own sense of guilt over expat privilege or was it because I really think that I can make things better because of a skill that I offer? In assessing what I can bring to the table, my deficits are pretty obvious—I am not a nurse, a doctor, a civil engineer, a builder, or a teacher. Nor do I speak any local languages, like Hindi, Kannada or Tamil. What I AM good at is coordinating (i.e. figuring out what needs to get done and finding the best person to do it), I am comfortable begging and harassing until a ‘no’ is changed to a ‘yes,’ I have a husband with a good job, I am an expat, and I know a lot of good people at home who I can hit up for money (that’s you!). But finding an opportunity where my limited skills would be helpful has been a bit tricky despite good intentions.
The below few paragraphs examine my feeble attempts and the sometimes disappointing results:
When I first arrived in Bangalore almost 6 short months ago, I was invited to a fundraiser for an NGO that works with sex workers and their children. All that was required of me was to buy tickets, attend this event on the top floor of the Shangri La Hotel, sip cocktails, listen to the founder of the NGO, and chat with my fellow patrons. The event was well organized and raised quite a bit of necessary money, however, the whole thing made me feel uncomfortable. There was such a large power and privilege gap between the people the organization was helping and those attending the event. I had never met anyone from the NGO nor spent time learning about their goals other than perusing the website and the brochure handed out at the event, the needs of the population they serve, or how I could best help. I was invited because I am an expat in Bangalore, and by default, a person of power and means. So while I realize the benefit of these types of events, and will be happy to donate money now and again, attending fundraisers isn’t the type of help I want to give. Although given my limited skills it’s probably one of the only things I am qualified for.
The next opportunity I found for volunteering was a possibility my next-door neighbor and Bangalore BFF Urvi, told me about. An orphanage for blind kids. Perfect! Who could need more help than blind orphans? Surely, I could be of some service. When Urvi called to ask about the needs, the director told her that they really only need help on the weekends and asked us if we were able to teach something like yoga, dance or singing. Unfortunately, not so much. She hung up the phone as embarrassed as I was that we didn’t have the skills needed to help blind orphans.
Next came an opportunity for Urvi and I to participate in a weekly reading program at a local elementary school. This was not a government school, but a school for families from Tamil Nadu (a neighboring state) funded at least in part by a foundation. This opportunity involved reading very basic books in English to a second or third grade class each week in their ‘library’ (a small square room with a few shelves of donated books and games around the edges). The thought of working with elementary school aged kids was not hugely appealing to me with my own 3 at home, but this opportunity fit my skill set—a person with a pulse who can read English. Perfect! The school was over an hour and 20 minutes away, and several times despite our best efforts, we missed the reading period completely. The few times we did arrive on time we had difficulty managing the behavior of 25 young kids who don’t speak English, preferred to punch each other and giggle to being read to, and whose teachers left them in the room alone with us. And honestly, my heart wasn’t in it. It would have required so much energy to do the program justice. What the kids appreciated much more was us bringing in Krispy Kreme donuts and candy right before Diwali break. Was it helpful to sugar the kids up at school? Probably not, but the teachers and principal seemed to think it was a good idea and not too disruptive. Being Santa Claus every week was fun and gave us rock star status which was a big emotional boost for us, but our efforts weren’t helping in any meaningful way.
The next great idea I had was to find a tutor, this where the coordinating comes in, to teach English to the ladies who work in neighborhood houses. Since most people in Bangalore speak English, knowing the language would help increase their earning potential and the opportunity to do more than just clean. I contacted my neighbors to see if they might be interested in sending their house helpers to a once a week class, but none were. Regardless, I figured I could just hire a tutor for Lakshmi, one of my own house helpers. However, when I asked her about the prospect, she said that she wasn’t interested. Huh? Really? But it’s free. Apparently, her in-laws and her husband don’t want her to learn English because in a few years they will all be moving back to their home village. My idea seemed like a great idea to me, but no one else.
So the search continued. The Overseas Women’s Club (OWC), an organization run by expats which supports 22 charities held a meet and greet/career fair type of event a couple of months ago where members could meet the charities and find out how to get involved. Every organization I spoke with either wanted skills I don’t have, time on the weekend that I couldn’t give, or had enough volunteers already. There was one organization that seemed like a great fit, but it is over 2 hours away, and in Bangalore traffic that would be less than ideal.
Finally, I had a eureka moment and asked Kiran, our driver and knower-of-all-things-Bangalore, to help me figure out how Urvi and I could best help someone, somehow (damnit!) with our limited funds and limited skills. He suggested that the best thing was for us to stop at local government schools and ask what their needs were. Okay, good. This we could handle. What I liked most about this idea was that Kiran, a man born and raised in Bangalore and very familiar with its needs was telling us where he thought we could be helpful. After a few failed attempts to find a school with needs we could address, we found Patel Hanuma Reddy Government School, which is a school that Kiran’s brother-in-law built the school buildings for—so he already had an ‘in’ with the school community. With Kiran’s help translating, we spoke with all the students (who spoke Kannada) in each of the grades about what they needed. They told us books, notebooks, pencils, tables, chairs, art supplies, PE equipment. However, when we walked around the school and visited the school bathrooms we realized that they didn’t have soap, and were told that the children do the cleaning since the school doesn’t have the money to pay a janitor. As an OCD sufferer, this lack of hygiene struck me as being the number one issue that needed to be addressed. We also discovered at a later meeting with the principal that they were running low on drinking water because the middle man between the government and the school needed to be bribed to be able to do his job (did I mention how pervasive corruption is in this country?). I wanted to take the matter to the police, but Kiran laughed and said that wouldn’t help and wasn’t how things were handled in Bangalore. Instead, Kiran spoke with his well-respected brother-in-law who got things sorted out in just one short conversation with the middle man.
It was agreed in our meeting with the school that we would fundraise for the supplies they needed, try to raise money for playground equipment, as well as pay for a janitor to clean the school each day. It was important to us that we do education around hygiene so that everyone in the school community and beyond would understand the importance of hand washing and what issues it can prevent. During our first conversation with the school administration it was discussed that an organization called Quess provides cleaning services to a neighboring school for 2000 INR a month. Since Quess was on our way back home we decided to stop by. I felt weird just barging in when we didn’t have an appointment, but that’s apparently how things get done in Bangalore. Security didn’t know what to do with us, and finally a random woman who was called by security pointed us in the right direction. Nainy. Turns out that 20% of her job was managing Quess’ foundation called Careworks. Quess has 9 companies under its umbrella so it’s doing okay, and under Indian law, it must give away 3% of its profits to charity. And guess what the charity does?
- School Enhancement Program aims to adopt 50 government schools and support holistic development. This includes infrastructure and teaching media to enhance quality of education and provide a safe and hygienic environment for students.
Perfect! We told Nainy all about the school we wanted to help and their extensive needs. This was on a Friday, and she said she’d speak with her boss about it. By Monday morning Careworks was conducting a needs assessment, and by the next day was starting the paperwork to adopt the school. So not only do I not have to hit you up for money for the school, the needs of the school will be addressed in a holistic way that will allow the school to function independently in the future. I literally didn’t have to lift a finger, and I got to use one of my few skills—coordinating. Careworks is so comprehensive that we were no longer needed, which was a positive for the school, but a bit disappointing for us. But again, it’s not about us. Because we felt we had to do something without overlapping efforts, we are collecting clothes, board games, and sports equipment for the school community. In the near future we hope to visit other schools Kiran knows about to introduce them to Careworks as well.
With Christmas coming up, Dan and I wanted to get the girls involved in helping out someone, somehow as well. I heard about a project called “Make A Wish” which involved sponsoring an orphan or very economically disadvantaged child by purchasing 2 Christmas gifts to be given to him/her at a Christmas party in mid-December (Do these Indian kids typically even celebrate Christmas? Wouldn’t this be better to do around Diwali? I decided to just going to go with it). It seemed like a simple way to get the kids involved, and the expat who started the program used a Mother Teresa quote in her marketing so you know I was on board:
Brooklyn Mama in India 