This is India... (Hi fom Julie)

Well, I guess you're wondering why it's taken so long since we arrived for us to post on the blog. The answer to that question and the apparent reason for every other arrangment that goes wrong or happens hours later than expected is that 'this is India', where - delightfully or frustratingly, depending on your perspective - things rarely go according to plan. Since we came to the Nagarjuna Training Institute (NTI) at Nagaloka we've had hardly any internet access. Early on we were told this was because of mysterious cabling/router problems on the campus but last week some construction workers cut through a local phone line so now the whole of the area of Nagaloka is without phone and internet but there seems very little rush to do anything about it. So Ken and I have taken an auto-rickshaw into a nearby part of town to use an internet cafe for a very reasonable Rs 15 an hour (current exchange is Rs 71 to the GBP) where we're working in the gloom because there's been a power cut and the PCs are running off enormous batteries. I had to switch to using the manager's laptop because many of the letters on the keyboard I was given are completely worn away!

To go back to how we arrived... the journey here was long but uneventful - no sign of trouble in Mumbai, which is a good thing as there was also no sign of the expected increase in security. At Nagpur we were met at the airport by Padmavir and Shrinivas, both bearing flowers for each of us and looking incedibly smart in the heat that was making us newcomers wilt with fatigue.

We drove through the city and arrived at Nagaloka in the dark at about 6.30pm to find the regular Wednesday power cut underway. Our first meeting with Jess, one of the other English teachers, took place by torchlight. She and Satish, the students assigned to care for our every need, guided us upstairs, through the dark, and down a long corridor to our rooms where we dropped off our bags and hurried out to dinner. When I say 'out to dinner' I mean it in the literal sense. With the exception of breakfast, which we eat in the communal lounge area along the corridor from our rooms, our meals are eaten outside, a short walk away from the building in which we stay. The students take it in turns to serve us and then wash the dishes under taps in the open air. As there's a field of cows and goats next to our dinner table we share our meals with a large number of flies! There's also a Hindu wedding hall across the cow & goat field so we have been known to have an audience of open-mouthed wedding guests – adults and children – while we eat. It seems the majority of locals have never seen white skinned people before.

On our first morning here I found, to my dismay, that porridge is the staple visitors' breakfast. Those of you who've been on retreat with me will know I have a strong aversion to this gloopy stuff. However, Jess assured me that Satish makes excellent porridge, adding dried fruit, cashews and almonds, and I'm pleased to say that I've learned to enjoy it. It's remarkable what you'll enjoy eating when there's no alternative and you're hungry!

Lunch and dinner are usually virtually identical: rice, chapatti, a thin dhal and a small dish of lightly spiced vegetables with a name I haven't yet learned how to spell. The only unknown factors are whether the food will be warm or cold and whether we'll be treated to a couple of hard boiled eggs as an accompaniment (requested to overcome the lack of protein and vitamin B12 in the diet offered). NTI really is run on a shoe-string so the food is of necessity basic but this, apparently, reflects the staple diet of the majority of Indian people.

Our first week here was spent recovering from jet lag, organising printing and debating how the EALIP (English as an Additional Language Intensive Programme) materials should be used alongside the teaching already being delivered by Jess, Achala and later Aryagita, when she arrived from Khatmandu a few days after our arrival. At that point we shared the 'visitors' lounge' with two other temporary residents at the college; Tempel Smith from San Francisco and Abhilasa from the Karuna Trust, who was over here to monitor and coach some Karuna-funded projects.

We have Abhilasa to thank for two of the high points of the trip so far. The first was an evening visit to a nearby computer training organisation called Aryaloka, run by a very switched on Indian guy, Aryaketu. We arrived to find a pattern of events that's been repeated since on several other visits. As guests of honour we were shown to seats in front of rows and rows of shining faced students. Aryaketu gave a long speech and then individual students were invited to present each of us in turn with a bouquet of flowers. As the chief guest of honour Abhilasa was then asked to make a return speech, which was translated sentence by sentence by Aryaketu. He told a very amusing 'shaggy donkey' story, which delighted the audience and perfectly fitted the occasion. Clearly, he'd done this before! A moment before Aryaketu turned to me I realised with a sinking feeling that we were all expected to speak! I've never made an impromptu speech to 50 people before but managed to come up with something heartfelt that the gathering seemed to really appreciate. When we visited the girls' hostel in Nagpur a couple of evenings later I anticipated the inevitable requirement for formal speeches and delivered a slightly more polished version.

The trip to the girls' hostel was a real eye-opener. A total of about 80 girls and young women live in the hostel, sleeping five or six to a mattress the size of a queen-sized bed. The conditions are basic but the staff are very warm and devoted to their work. Sunita, the chief warden, has given up marriage and a family of her own to take care of her charges. These children and young woman are not orphans; they come to live in the hostel in Nagpur from villages in which they wouldn't be allowed an education because of their low caste. The same applies to the boys; although in the cities it is now accepted as illegal to discriminate against Dalits (formerly called 'untouchables') in the villages the old ways still remain and Dalit children have to sit outside the classroom, the teachers refusing even to touch their school books to mark their work.

Having worked, and completely fallen in love, with with these young people I feel hurt and outraged on their behalf. They're so keen to learn and such fun to be with that teaching them is a joy. A couple of weeks ago we had an hilarious lesson in which they tried to learn to pronounce 'fish'. Some of them couldn't manage the 'f' sound and said 'p' instead, some of them said 's' instead of 'sh' and others got both ends wrong, changing the meaning completely! Another source of fun was the lesson about prepositions; we had a great time demonstrating 'in', 'on' 'under' and 'by' but the best part was seeing students who didn't get it at first start to understand.