You for scooter?

My first few weeks have been very bizarre, and I suppose I have seen a fair bit.

I should give a little shout out to Terminal 3 at Heathrow for it living up to it’s reputation for being one of the most chaotic and unorganized terminals at Heathrow. Shout out.

On my flight over to India I sat next to a very nice Indian man who was highly educated, but the problem was he couldn’t stop talking. He even woke me up in the middle of the night to ask me a question. I could see this was going to be a very long 3 months...

I arrived at Delhi airport early, which was just fantastic as my flight to Ranchi was delayed, so the 5 ½ hour wait was extended to 7. I knew I was in India when I was the only westerner on the flight from Delhi to Ranchi. I should also add, when I spoke to the gentleman on the plane from Heathrow he asked me where I was going and I said Ranchi and I have never seen someone looked so confused. He didn’t even ask me why, he just said, ‘Oh..’ Ranchi airport itself is a quaint little thing, a make shift baggage belt and a hand full of security guards who were asleep. I was met by 2 football coaches whose English was not great, never the less we jumped onto an ‘auto-rick shaw’ (for those unfamiliar with this terminology I suggest you go travelling) and travelled for an hour in the dark eventually arriving at the village where Yuwa is based, Hutup. I was shown into a room and collapsed on the bed, expecting to be consumed by a soft mattress, however was met with a slab of wood instead, as the beds in India are just as I said, slabs of wood.

One of the coaches took me for breakfast at their local restaurant/hotels which is around 10 mins scooter drive away. It is a make shift building which has apparently been in construction for 10 years, of which you can see the stairs from the road. Unsure what to order, I ordered buttered toast, pretty crazy I know. Everyone around me though was eating the famous vegetable sandwich, which I was soon to find out was a pretty big thing around this area. The conversation as you can imagine was pretty limited and there were many awkward silences, a common occurrence for me over the past 2 weeks and without doubt the rest of my time here as well. At lunch time I was greeted at the door by a family. The father is the landlord of the house Yuwa are based in and he wanted his daughter to speak English so he was therefore going to leave her with me from 11:30 until 17:00. I know, what a bloody long time. She was however, extremely intelligent and pompous. She took me to the private hospital across the road, where her Uncle ran the canteen. We sat in his office and ate sandwiches and everyone she met along the way, she insisted on telling them I was her best friend and that I ‘took sandwiches for lunch at the hospital’. I then went for dinner at her house, where I was given so much food of which no one else was eating.....bizarre.

My first meeting with the girls who are part of the YUWA programme was the day Franz arrived back, where I went to visit a bunch of them at their houses and then had a tour of the village. They literally live in each other’s pockets, and are all somehow related. I visited around 25 different houses over a 2 hour period, sat down in 15 of them and used the words ‘Wow, this is lovely’ far too much.  Quality of life here for a majority of family’s is pretty grim, however sometimes the family’s don’t really help themselves - example: a family won £2,000 in a game of cards and spent it all on speaker systems and a flat screen TV. The family live in a mud house and apparently can’t afford to send their daughter to school.

I am yet to drive a scooter on my own. It is currently in repair and won’t be ready for another week at least. The roads, as you can imagine are pretty bad, the driving is even worse. I think I saw a record of around 8 goats and 3 people pilled onto a motor bike the other day, unfortunately my camera was not to hand. Ranchi, the town nearby has nothing charming about it. Lonely planet describes it as a pretty large space with not a lot there. Well, at least we know the Lonely Planet are doing their research correctly. I look at it like this, imagine everything shit thing about a big city, whether it be London or Brazil, everything is ten times worse in India (apart from the high prices).

The days here are very long. Yuwa coach football in three different locations. In Hutup village where they are based, and two other villages around 25 minutes away. Football practice in the morning is 6:00 until 8:00. The kids then go to school until 1500 and play football again from 1630 until it gets dark. There are 5 official teams and 2 adult coaches. YUWA paid for 7 girls to go on a coaching course last year in Delhi, and therefore they help coach a long side the adults. At yesterdays practice there were around 100 girls there, from three different teams/villages. All of which were doing high quality drills. The girls 1^st team are extremely good and even have a few national players. They all have football ‘kit’ including football foots, socks and shoes all of which are compulsory. The NGO helps set up financial plans for the girls to get them saving up for their boots, giving them responsibility and also an incentive.  The younger ‘new girls team’ are however just starting off and are still playing in their cute little dresses in bare feet. The level of commitment here from all the players and coaches is incredible.

As I arrived during a holiday it has been an interesting few weeks. A girl broke her arm during practice and from this I have had the privilege (cough) of visiting one of the government run hospital in Ranchi. Government run hospitals  are always under-staffed and busy no matter where you are. In India, well.....It was a huge complex with people everywhere and no staff. After walking around for an hour and getting lost (and also going past 3 dead bodies being wheeled out) we found where we needed to be. The next day we then visited a private clinic, where there was no consultation room and people listened in on other people’s problems and diagnosis.  I could tell you about a hand full of very interesting cases, but I don’t want to bore the few who are still managing to read this. The girl had broken both her Tibia and Fibula (her arm) and got 2 metal plates put in, I was able to stand in and watch the surgery which was actually very interesting. It was more however for the surgeon to show off as he kept harping on about how great he was. Modesty is not a word in the Indian language.

What else? Well the young girl I met on my first day invited me to a marriage ceremony 3 days before the wedding, whereby after the ceremony the bride is under ‘house arrest’ and is unable to leave until after the wedding. I was treated like royalty and was highly embarrassed about the whole occasion. They are a Muslim family and therefore can eat beef (unlike a majority of the other villagers who are Hindu and don’t eat beef), and by golly they had huge quantities of it, and it was lush. On that note, because the cow is a sacred animal in Hindu culture, if ever asked what animal I would want to be, the simple answer would be a cow in a village in India. The ceremony itself was bizarre. The bride to be was in floods of tears whilst her family presented here with offerings, which traditionally would have been chickens and rice, however nowadays consist of money, i-pads (RIP. Steve Jobs) and mobile phones. On paper it sounds like a very calm ceremony, however everyone was chatting on the phone and giggling away. Bizarre. Just very Bizarre.

What am I actually doing? Well, teaching English. Came as a surprise to me too, well not the teaching English part but the 4 lessons a day part. My first class starts at 0600 until 0730 and then there is one directly after. I have a lull in the day until around 1500 which is when my next one starts. I head over to practice after that and then come back to take the 1^st team and help them with homework. I have concluded that I feel my value lies in running around getting people involved rather than trying to control 40 girls in a small room, whereby the standard of English varies considerably (many girls cannot English at all compared with me having a conversation with one about the British in India...). I am however thoroughly enjoying it, it is very laid back, and it has to be in order to fit in with the nature of the locals. Living conditions are basic but pretty comfortable. The girls come in and out of my room as they wish and use my things, deodorant and hairbrush etc (and before any of you ask YES I DID bring a hairbrush with me). The girls however have nits, so simple solution to prevent me from getting them – don’t use brush (sorry mum). In the evening some of the girls cook and include Franz and I as well which is really nice, so I must repay the favour. The food however I have bought seems to have disappeared....it probably has something to do with the 50 odd girls who come in and out of the house every day.

Gossip is of a limited nature in my life here, which is bloody brilliant. So I make my own, coming up with different stories of what the girls are talking about. It’s amazing what stories you can come up with when given the opportunity.

No major dramas for me at the minute regarding health etc, oh apart from the fact that I tore my ligament on my right ankle and am now sporting a bring yellow cast and am on crutches for at least 2 weeks...GRRRREAT! Life in India is made just that mush tougher when in a cast. Also as if being a westerner in this area is not obvious enough, I am now one with a bright yellow cast and crutches.

I must dash, I’m at a hotel and have a cold Kingfisher and bar snacks waiting for me to watch Wales kill France. Wales New Zealand final anyone? Unless the bloody Ozzies pull it out the bag – highly unlikely.

Stay tune and hope the birds are singing wherever you are

P.S – again apologies for how disjointed this is. It is a true reflection of how my brain works. For those who have managed to finish this – high5’s.