Tales and Photos From Karnataka

It goes without saying that I am truly horrible blogger. I could try to blame it on any number of things that have been occupying my time (namely my independent study) but nobody likes excuses. Thus, this post (and those to follow) will be in order, just really really late.

First, these are all photos from our second week-long vacation-type trip to Karnataka. It was a blast.

This is paint (tikka) in powder form that you mix with water. I bought a little because it was too beautiful to pass up and has thus lead me to create some paintings (if you can call them that) which have yielded comments mostly along the lines of, "...what is that?" The bag of blue paint may or may not have been thrown in jest and it may or may not have exploded all over our hotel room, thus turning all of the towels a very pretty light blue. Maybe.

These are bangles. Lots and lots of bangles. The most popular bangles are glass but DO NOT BUY GLASS BANGLES as they are made by child labourers (generally). Much like matches, firecrackers, rugs, sweets, the list goes on. If I've learned nothing while being in India, I've learned how absolutely important it is to be a conscious consumer. Read the labels.

The two photos above were taken in the market in Mysore, the "Palace City". We toured the palace itself which was great until our tour guide got a little grabby with six out of the nine girls on our program. I know it's not right to essentialize all Indian men and lump them all into the same "asshole" category, but I've come across my fair share. If I never come across another mustache sporting, bell bottom wearing, two wheeler driving, sexually repressed, leering Indian man who thinks it's ok to harass me just because I'm white and I'm a woman, I will die happy.

This is a temple. I know that is not an appropriate description, but we were here almost a month ago and I have a hard enough retaining temple details as it is. I know it's a UNESCO World Heritage Sight and that the carvings were unbelievably intricate and really great. I may be the only person to ever come to India without a marginal interest in religion. Unfortunate.

Same as above.

A casual cow throw down at some ruins in Hampi.

Crossing the river in Hampi in basket boats. Reminds you of Moses a little bit right?

Hampi is the third largest archaeological site in the world, the first being Macchu Picchu and the second is in Cambodia. It's got this great landscape - sort of the moon meets Utah. Toss in some ancient ruins and you've got Hampi.

More Hampi. It rocks. Lame pun sort of intended.

Friends in Hampi. Right before our intrepid guide took us across the most unassuming of trickling little streams which proved too much for me. I slipped and fell squarely in the mud and then had to try and wash myself off at a very public spigot to the chagrin and amusement of Indian women and post card hawkers alike. Dignity, what was left of it, is gone.

This isn't in Karnataka, it's actually in the driveway of school. Though it may look like this elephant is smacking me in the face, it is in fact blessing me. As a result of this great little surprise visit from the temple elephant, the street in front of school was covered in elephant poop for at lease a week.

Unrelated to Karnataka, my independent study project is in full swing and has been equal parts interesting and troubling. My project is about the role of the government in the rehabilitation process of child-bonded labourers. Rehabilitation entails medical attention, psychological attention, economic assistance, education, etc. The government is supposed to supply a set amount of money (some people say 20,000 rs, some say 50,000, you can never get a straight answer) to freed bonded labourers but they rarely do and if they do it's slowly or begrudgingly. Thus my project seeks to highlight the differences between what the government is doing for returned bonded labourers (alot) and what they're actually doing (very little) and why the government is so unwilling to help those most in need (widespread discrimination against the rural poor).

What's most troubling however are the things that people are describing that happened to them while they were in bonded labour. What's always shocking and disturbing is how long people are literally held captive for, the shortest I've heard is three years and the longest 17. Can you imagine? He went to work when he was 8 and was only brought home when he was 25 because he was so sick that he almost died and his employer didn't want to pay the medical bills. The families ended up paying them, to the tune of 40,000 rs, which as an astronomical amount that they will probably never be able to pay back, thus living and dying in debt, further propagating the system. One guy (mostly boys go to work so all of the people I have interviewed are men who worked as bonded labourers as children) told me that he was drugged (something was put into his food) and when he came to he had been shipped off to work. One guy told about how when he burned himself working over an open flame, his employers would put chili powder in his wounds. Most of the bonded labourers work 20 hours a day and are given two meals a day, generally of old rice or rotten food.

People either escape or are freed by the government (rarely) and NGOs (equally as rae) or they escape. If you're rescued by the government or an NGO you're golden - you have all the proper documentation to prove that you were a bonded labourer and thereby receive the government funding whenever they decide to get around to giving it to you. If you escape you're screwed. Somehow the government has gotten all hung up on this thing called a release certificate (which is not legally required) that your employer (master?) is supposed to give you in order to prove that you were in fact a bonded labourer. Clearly the employers aren't just passing these release certificates out and the government won't help you unless you have it. In a word, the system is totally, and completely fucked.