[Vision2020] Monkeys, Bugs, and Black-Outs: Playing House in India

[Nicholas Gier]

Good Morning Visionaries:


I thought it was time to take a break from serious topics and have some
fun.  There is a small book brewing about our adventures in India.


Let's hear it for places that have periodic hard freezes,


Nick

*
*

*MONKEYS, BUGS, AND BLACK-OUTS:
PLAYING HOUSE IN INDIA*

By Nick Gier**

*            *When my partner Gail joined me for my first sabbatical in
Idaho, we moved into a one-bedroom apartment in an upscale neighborhood of
Bangalore. The apartment came with a daily maid, which initially presented
us with a problem.

This low caste woman was toiling hours for a pittance, and the apartment
needed very little daily attention. Our Indian neighbors quickly disabused
us of our misplaced sentiments.  Lakshmi’s husband was disabled, and she
was the only support for him and her three daughters.

We decided that one thing that we could do to salve our consciences was to
give her a 100 percent raise (to $17 a week) and reduce her hours by half.
Our neighbors were furious and accused us of spoiling our servant.

Lakshmi was from Tamil Nadu, and I of course did not speak Tamil nor did
she know any English except “Finished!”  I desperately needed to
communicate with Lakshmi, so I went downstairs to ask Mrs. Warrior to
translate for me. Yes, that was her surname, presumably the English
translation of *khsatriya*, the warrior caste.

After asking about what cleaning items she needed, I asked Mrs. Warrior to
tell Lakshmi that she was doing a really good job.  I could see that the
compliment was not being translated, and I asked why not.  The high caste
woman replied sharply: “You never tell your servants that.”

The apartment had screens on all the windows, but the mosquitoes—the
biggest and smartest we’d ever encountered—still slipped in to torment us.
Unlike the ones that we were used to, these pests would not land anywhere
where you could swat them.  We did find them in our closets sucking the
moisture out of our clothes, but we could never catch them.

The insect netting tent we brought from the U. S. was oppressive during the
warm nights, and we decided that long term use of the coils was a health
hazard.  So we turned on the ceiling fans full blast and that kept the
mosquitoes from attacking us.

The only problem was that there were scheduled power outages in the
mornings (6-7) and evenings (7-9), so we were fair game if we wanted to
sleep until 7, which of course we did.

During those first hours we would wrap ourselves in our sheets and cover
our heads mummy-like, but the mosquitoes still got their meal. The only
bloody carcasses we ever saw were those that were crushed inside our sheets
as we turned in bed. We were very glad that we were taking our malaria
pills.

We really should have got up at 6, because there were other pests besides
the mosquitoes. Indians are taught by driving instructors to honk their
horns to let everyone know (especially slow bullock carts) that they are
coming.  The typical India car at that time did not have very good
mufflers, so between the horns and the exhaust noise, we experienced
bombardment from outside as well as inside.

One day I went to a market three blocks down the street to get some
bananas.  On the way home I was confronted by a mother monkey and her
babies.  She came right up to me and made it very clear what she wanted. I
didn’t argue with her and let her have the fruit.

When I got home Gail asked me where the bananas were, and I told her the
truth:  “I was mugged by a monkey.”  She did not believe me until the next
week when a troop of monkeys had stopped for a rest in the trees next to
our balcony.

We were not surprised that our apartment had cockroaches.  Trying hard to
respect Indian ways, I did not want to kill them.  I of course made
exceptions for mosquitoes, where, ironically, I had failed miserably.

But one night the Mother of All Cockroaches scurried across the kitchen
floor.  I grabbed a meat cleaver and chased that monster all over the
house.  I finally nailed him near the front door.

The next morning we noticed that the sugar ants that infested our kitchen
had completely disappeared.  When I went to get the morning paper, I found
hundreds of them feasting on the cockroach’s carcass.

We stayed in the same apartment three years later on another research
trip.  Twenty years have passed so the frustrations dim and the memories
grow fonder, but still we will never play house again in India.  We did,
however, did go back to enjoy the wonderful people and the rich culture two
more times, and we intend to go again.

            Nick Gier taught philosophy and religion at the University of
Idaho for 31 years.
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://mailman.fsr.com/pipermail/vision2020/attachments/20120302/0a7107ae/attachment.html>