After a rough bout of meetings with our boss and adviser (the first who hasn’t talked to us since the second week of the internship and the second who advised us to quit because one man in the slum questioned us) I have to admit my internship had a happy ending.
On Thursday I was antsy with anticipation. The weather was pleasant as the sun had not risen to its peak position yet, and I walked briskly passed the smells and garbage that did not phase me anymore. Three women’s group had told us they would assemble at 2:00 pm with the money required to open a savings account, plus they promised that all members had understood and signed their respective constitutions. I should have known better after two months of women telling me the would meet tomorrow, they would fill out the form tomorrow, they would come to sewing class tomorrow, everything was tomorrow, that when tomorrow came around the reply was the same: tomorrow. I realize, however, these women’s lives are not structured to suit my eight to five job (actually in India it’s like ten to six, with a couple hours for lunch). I wanted so badly to scream at them on Friday, when two groups told us a couple members couldn’t come because of shopping or something. We told you yesterday to come at 2:00, couldn’t you have planned your shopping trip for another time! But I know I am simplifying their lives. Women in this slum still have to ‘clean’ their rice (I don’t know the correct term) meaning they spend hours filtering rice and grains just to make the simple chapattis (of which I could wolf down five in seconds not thinking twice how long each one takes to make). The last group was all Muslim women so although they had collected all the money and signatures, not all three leaders were willing to go to the bank on the Friday Muslim holiday. This was understandable but still frustrating.
On Saturday, we met with our gracious translator, Jyoti, for the third day, a law student and friend of JoEun’s. Joti was immensely helpful and spend so much time with us the last days of my internship, there is no way I will be able to properly pay her back for her patience and translation services. We were now down to two groups promising to meet us around 10:00 am since the bank closes early on Saturday. JoEun went to Chokya’s group and Jyoti and I went to Annu’s. My mind was in mixed emotions this day, realizing it was the last day I would stroll down these dirt roads, carefully stepping around garbage, sewage puddles, and cows, all the while smiling profusely as little children ran to shake my hand (this apparently never gets old for anyone under the age of ten here) and placing my hands at heart center to give a calm namaste to the shop owner who had grown familiar to my presence and our four line repetitive conversations asking each other ‘good afternoon’ and ‘how are you’. I was hopeful that these women would come through, but I also knew their lives were unpredictable, so I prepared myself for a final day and tried not to get emotional.
Jyoti and I did not have luck with Annu’s group because one of the essential group leaders had to clean houses until 2:00. This time I wasn’t frustrated at all, instead I was swallowing back tears as I tried to ignore the realization that when the women promised me Tuesday they would all have to time to go to the bank, I would not be there. It was no use, a single tear slipped out and the few women and children looked at me quizzically. I didn’t know if I was crying because of guilt that I was abandoning these families or sadness because I was loosing these women I had become friends with over the course of my internship. When one women called me over and took my face into her hands, and began wiping my tears, cooing softly ‘no cry, no cry’ I knew it was because I was saying bye to my good friends for a long time or potentially forever. There was no time to morn, however, since Chokya’s group was ready to open an account today, Jyoti and I got a call from JuEun that she was already headed to the bank with the three group leaders.
I cleared my mind and got back to business as Jyoti and I trotted down the street for five minutes towards the local bank. When we arrived the three group leaders were perched on a green plastic sofa and JoEun was kneeling in front of them organizing papers. You would not believe the amount of documentation and signatures required for these women to open a group account. We got a few stares but for the most part no one flinched an eye as JoEun, Jyoti, and I kneeled in front of the women explaining and asking them to sign countless documents and scurrying around confirming the next step from various bank employees. Just under three hours of this confusion and pleading for the bank to stay open a few minutes longer, the bank manager handed us a slip with the group’s account number and registration confirmation. We handed it to the group secretary who promptly placed the slip of paper in her sari top. As ridiculous as this would have appeared to me my first week in Jodhpur, by then I knew this was a good sign and that these women would take the account seriously. Upon exiting the bank we all hugged each other and took photos. I’m not sure that the women were as excited as I was, they were all a little anxious to return home since the outing had taken much longer than expected.
It was time to say our last good-byes, which were much harder and longer than I expected. I finally had to pull myself away after an hour of kisses and tears from the women caressing my face and hands. The women asked me for my address and phone number in America, I knew we would probably never be in contact in the future but it was a nice thought that there was some way we could contact each other. Hopping on the crowded bus for the last time in Jodhpur I pretended just this, that someday we would embrace, laugh, and share chai together again.
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