Well into our second month of volunteer teaching in Raiwala, we still struggle to get a handle on what is expected of us, and how the school functions. And we still make some interesting discoveries, and continue to be fascinated by the community, its people and its wildlife.

We’ve already discussed how we watch a parade of monkeys from our balcony every morning. And how the balcony is also often the hangout of a hornbill. Now we’ve suddenly spotted a few gray mongooses (or mongeese) on the ground below. Have they just arrived on the scene because the news travelled through the grapevine (literally) that a couple of appreciative foreigners have been spotted perched on a balcony with their cameras? Or have they always been here, and we’re just now taking note?

The two-legged mammals also make quite a spectacle. Every morning, a few of the villagers, decked out in traditional attire, go on a walk, passing our apartment on the road. Many of them carry staves to ward off aggressive monkeys, as we’ve mentioned before. One fellow in particular, an older gentleman who likes to wear a blue sort of sleeveless jacket, goes by religiously every morning. And he’s apparently had encounters with monkeys before, because whenever he passes one, he stops, clutching his stick, and says something, as if daring the beast to approach him. He’s rather entertaining to watch.

K walk down jungle road towards Jr. Campus

On one occasion, Kimberly goes hiking by herself and discovers a wooded trail off the road that goes between campuses. A couple of guys on motorbikes stop to warn her to be careful because there are tigers in the woods. (Tigers seldom come out in the daytime, and generally shy away from humans.) But she isn’t the only person on the path.

MONDAY

DENNIS: After my 12th Grade class this morning, the principal calls me into her office to go over the preparation for the upcoming final exams for this term. She emphasizes that their big concern is just making certain the students get good grades. That’s all. The school doesn’t seem overly concerned about whether the students actually learn. This approach of “teaching to the test” is all too common in the U.S. too — we ran into it many times during our years of touring the nation as educational entertainers. The principal and I talk a bit about our families, about living expenses, and so on. She mentions that she has a sister in Boston, and I tell her about our son in Providence. It’s the first time we’ve had a real conversation.

This evening at about 10:30 pm, after we’re already asleep, the doorbell rings three times before we can get out to answer it. It’s Bobby again. (That’s his westernized name, not his actual Indian name.) He’s a cricket coach who comes around about once a month and stays for 3 or 4 days in this apartment while working with the attendees of the cricket academy on campus. He’d shown up a month earlier, much to our surprise, apparently expecting to stay in the bedroom that we have staked out, but instead he settled for the smaller one. This time he asks us if anyone had alerted us about his arrival. No, they hadn’t. Again.

TUESDAY

Once again there are no classes today. And once again we were not told in advance. We don’t find out until Kimberly goes down and waits for her ride to come — and even then it’s a long time before anyone bothers to tell her. And by “tell” we mean lots of loud Hindi directed towards her by the school gate keeper and cleaning staff. Some failed attempts at trying to get the Hindi speaker to speak when Google Translate is listening. Some wild gesturing and then it finally sinks in that there are no school buses or students present.

So we both have the day free, and elect to take a hike through the woods on the trail that Kimberly had discovered earlier. On the way, we pass a cricket match in progress. We still haven’t been able to make sense of that game.

We follow the trail on one side of the road that leads to a stream branching off from the Song River. To our surprise, we find a couple of crabs in the water, and we’re not quite sure how they got there. We also come upon evidence that deer have been there.

Then, on the other side of the road, we pursue the other segment of the trail, and come to a rather puzzling setup. It appears that some kind of ascetic has been camping out in the woods here, or at least staging some kind of religious rituals. There are several clay pots on the ground, seemingly spaced apart at regular intervals; and there are pieces of cloth hanging from branches. A “chair” has been dug into the earth on the side of a mound. We wish we had the program notes explaining what it all means and what’s been going on here.

WEDNESDAY

THURSDAY

DENNIS: Would you believe? Another day with no classes at Senior Campus. And would you believe? Nobody alerted me. It turns out to be something called Children’s Play Day. When I go over to the campus, I see some of the students playing a game of volleyball — apparently competing against students from another school. And the others are just sitting there watching. Which doesn’t exactly sound like much of a play day for them.

My first impulse is to become quite frustrated by this consistent lack of communication, and repeated cancelling of classes. (Sure, the latter leaves me with more free time to get some writing done; but dang it, I came here to teach, not to watch kids play volleyball.) But then I just take a breath and remind myself that it’s all a lesson in going with the flow. And whatever else happens, I’m enjoying the sights and sounds, and learning how the locals live

Events occurred 11/11-14/2024