The Green Tara Project

Five minutes from Apne Aap headquarters in Forbesgunge is the Kishori Mandel girls’ school in the village of Uttari Rampur.  It is a small area on the outskirts of Forbesgunge, and it is like many of the small villages I have seen in Bihar.  It is surrounded by swamps and agricultural plots.  The houses are huts.  The difference between this village and others like it is that it is populated mostly by ‘Untouchables’.  And the lucky ones get to send their children to Kishori Mandel.  This means 20 young girls, between the ages of 10 and 16.

I arrived there yesterday, again late (my driver, Dheeraj, seems to have a very poor sense of time).  So, again, girls had to be located and asked to come back to the school for a karate class.  Three out of 20 came.  So at 5:20 pm, with their teacher, Kalpana, I began to teach karate.

I began with basic punching and proper stance (feet shoulder width apart; knees slightly bent).  We started slow, added some speed.  The turning over the fist thing was kind of difficult for them to grasp, but they were catching on quite well.  I then thought it might be a good idea to show them a kata; this worked so well at KGBV.  So, I motioned for them to wait and watch.  I took a position in the schoolyard – a piece of ground just 30 feet long by 10 feet wide.  I started to do Bassai Dai.  And every time I put my foot down hard, it sunk into the ground like a hole had opened up.  And, sure enough, the entire yard seemed to be undermined by some creature’s burrow.  I finished the kata and walked back to the three girls, who very quickly said that they no longer wanted to do karate.  ?????  I thought I had got through Bassai Dai fairly well. ; p  I still don’t know what happened, but I then told them that I would do self defense.  Like at Kavaspur, basic wrist and neck grab escape.  I just started doing the drills with them and they really liked it.

Throughout the 40 minutes that I had to teach, I corrected fists, positioned arms, and adjusted shoulders.  These girls are just like any other girls in any other karate class.  And they were not untouchable to me.

Two days ago I went to my first girls’ school:  Kavaspur.  Kavaspur is located about 30 minutes by motorbike from Forbesgunge, and it is an entirely different world.  Fields of rice and jute as far as the eye can see, small settlements of mostly thatched-roofed and -sided huts, small naked children running around with livestock.  Women, knee deep in water, bend over and harvest or plant for 12 hours a day in the heat, in addition to taking care of the house.  I will never complain about work again.  It has been one thing for me to see this on TV or in National Geographic; it is totally different to see it face to face.  Such an impact seeing backbreaking work like that.

The school is a cluster of one and two room buildings with no electricity, so not even a fan to help eleviate heat.  I arrived with Dheeraj, my driver/escort/translator-cum-bad guy late; the monsoon rain which had cancelled class the day before washed out part of the one lane dirt road that is one of the only access points to this village.  I had to get off the motorbike, roll up my pants, take off my shoes, and wade through a calf deep muddy river for about 30 feet.  I got pics.  Anyway, all the girls had gone home by the time we arrived at the school.  So, we sat around and waited for them to be rounded up and sent back.  While I was waiting, I surveyed the area to see where I would be teaching class.  The estwhile schoolyard was under water; even without water, it was unsuitable, which says a lot since my standards of ‘unsuitable’ have come down several pegs here in Bihar.  The classroom was too small and cramped with desks.  I settled on the three and a half foot wide gangway that ran the length of the classroom building.  I then waited.

Seventeen girls showed…and about half of all the boys in the village along with some adults.  Time for class.  But there was a problem.  I started doing some drills on the gangway (concrete) and about half the girls did not want to participate all of sudden.  ?????  Dheeraj quietly and meekly came to me and said that the girls would like to do karate in their cramped classroom (apparently, they did not want to do karate in front of the boys who were looking on).   Okay, fine.  Move the desks and benchseats, sweep the floor.  Ready?  Not quite.  The few windows and doors available allowed pesky boys to watch and catcall.  Okay, close metal shutters over the windows and the metal doors, so no light or breeze.  Fine, can we begin now?  Well, yes and no.  The boys outside took it into their minds to pound on the metal shutters.  Oh, how pleasant.  And now I know what it is like to teach karate from inside of a tin can that is being used in a kickball game on a hot summer day.  Oy.

I say this now, but at the time, I was swept up in trying to teach, so just rolled with it.  And the girls’ enthusiasm was terrific.  I had them doing jumping jacks and changing directions on them, had them doing push ups, stretching.  We went over basic karate punches, and I had them hit me in the stomach.  Let me tell you, these girls really wanted to hit something.  They all had strong punches, if not particularly good technique wise.  Not much of a surprise given the type of work that they have probably been doing since they could stand.  After learning some basic wrist grab escapes, it was time to go.  Tin Can Class had finally ended.

Tomorrow I start one of my new assignments.  That is because I was supposed to start yesterday, but got monsoon-ed out, and then today schools were closed for a holiday.

So my new assignment will take place at three girls’ schools.  Unlike KGBV where the girls had taken karate before, the girls’ school students have had no previous exposure to karate.  Additionally, their risk is different – they are considered either ‘untouchable’ or below poverty level, so upper-castes feel they can treat them however they want, including taking advantage of them sexually.

Although the caste system in India was officially outlawed in 1950, in rural areas such as Bihar it still lives on.  India’s Untouchables are relegated to the lowest jobs (such as cleaning sewers with their bare hands and disposing of the dead), and live in constant fear of being publicly humiliated, beaten, and raped with impunity by upper-caste Hindus seeking to keep them in their place. 

Untouchable women and girls are particularly vulnerable. They are frequently raped or beaten as a means of reprisal against male relatives who are thought to have committed some act worthy of upper-caste vengeance.  Little or nothing is done to prevent attacks on rape victims by gangs of upper-caste villagers seeking to prevent a case from being pursued. Sometimes the policemen even join in.  Rape victims have also been murdered.  Such crimes often go unpunished.

So the training for these girls will really focus a lot on self defense, with a lot of repetition.  I have two weeks to ingrain some instincts into these 100 or so girls; we’ll see what happens.

As part of this assignment, I have also been tasked with producing a list of how girls can identify and avoid predators.  It will have to be translated, but I think even the girls having this little bit of knowledge could give them an edge in surviving in their high risk environments.

Lastly, I will be creating a list of recommendations of what additional and ongoing activities might aid in empowering these young ladies to seek high goals and become leaders in their communities.

In a nutshell, I’m going to be very busy over the next two weeks, but I’m very happy to be.  All I have to do is think about my experience at KGBV, and of the two young girls singing their equality song, and suddenly I’m not so tired. : )

Thanks for reading about my journey.  Stayed tuned over the nex few weeks for more updates on the progress here in Bihar.

This area is teaching Muay Thai.  I was doing some ad hoc sparring with some young guy, and he did a classic flying knee to my chin followed up by elbow to top of the head.  Don’t think that I stood there and took it; he telegraphs, so I got out of the way.  But I was absolutely dumbfounded for a moment because the moves were just like moves I’ve seen in Tony Jaa films.  But what about the katas?  This guy did two katas for me.  So I came back to my room and googled and, yes, Muay Thai forms.  So guess what I’m doing tomorrow?  Learning a new martial art….

When the KGBV girls first showed me their katas, I was perplexed.  There was one kata that looked like Chito Ryu, but not exactly.  It had the Cat Paw technique, and the toes-out kibadachi stance, but then had a crouching stance that I’ve never seen before.  Not that I was expecting familiarity:  my inquiries into what style of karate they practiced were met repeatedly by the response:  Martial Art.  So, major language gap.  At the announcement of their next kata, I started to be relieved:  Heian Yondan.  This I know!  But as I watched, it was Heian Sandan that I was seeing – at least it is in my dojo back home.  The kata continued, and incorporated into it were the toes out kibachi stance, and Hapkido style shuto uke.  Oy.  Ok.  No problem, right?  Then came Heian Sandan, which looked exactly like what I know to be Heian Yondan.  And then another kata that looked again like a combination of Chito Ryu, Goju Ryu, and Hapkido-type blocks and stances.

I find it very interesting to find so many martial arts styles combined together in this remote part of the world.  It makes me wonder about where the influences have come from and how karate originally came to this area.  Due to lack of technology, the method of passing on the tradition is very much hands-on, teacher-to-student.  And I muse over what this style could evolve into.  And if this is what it was like on Okinawa as Karate was evolving into what I’ve come to know it as.  Quite fascinating considerations for this karateka.

My last day at KGBV was on Friday.  After eating, sleeping, singing, dancing, joking around, and, of course, karate-ing with these girls for 12 days, it was time to say goodbye.  When I first arrived at their hostel, they called me ‘Sister.’  They all wanted me to know their names – so important to them.  So here is me, their Sister, remembering:

Khushboon, Shabana, Shabanan, Sabina, Kavita 1st, Kavita 2nd, Kavita 3rd, Kavita 4th, Jyoti, Johanara, Guddi, Baby, Aarti, Nisha, Madhumalla, sisters Juli and Juhi, Sunam, Rajilla, Ruxana, Ruhi, Rehana, Ruma, Khushboo, Jehda, Amrita, Rita, Firoja, Nazmeen, Rachem, Rosen, Bharti, Lata, and Nikat.  Included as my sisters are also the caretakers at KGBV:  Pinky, Sanju, and Sharda.  And there are two cooks who made some of the best food and spoiled me fat, Malti and Sabira.

I will miss:  the laughter; the creak of the hand pump signalling someone getting water in the courtyard; the murmurings at night of the 10 or so girls in my room before falling asleep;  the ritual folding of dupattas before school; the song of evening prayers; laundry drying on the roof in the sun; the soft scuffing noise of flip flops on concrete floors; morning tea; afternoon tea; bright, inquisitive eyes; and the spark of each of their spirits.

One of my favorite experiences so far (there have been many, but too little time for internet) was my participating in a karate class at KGBV.  Two days ago, the girls’ regular karate teacher, Rupa Kumari, returned from her break.  She speaks no English, and I speak very little Hindi at this point, but through sign language and single words we communicated that she would teach the next karate class.  So, alongside the girls I had been teaching for the last 10 days, I punched, blocked, kicked, stretched, jumped, and push-upped.  Some moves I sat out for; they use a Hapkido-style of knifehand block and backstance in their drills and kata, for example, that I just couldn’t get the hang of so worked on my own off to the side so as not to distract class.   They also did some axe kicks that I passed on.  But other than that, I was reminded to retract my mawashi-gaeri, just like at the dojo, so that kind of made me feel right at home.  At the end of class, Rupa requested that I do a kata.  Oy.  I haven’t done a kata since Heian Godan almost two weeks ago in the village!  I decided to go with Kanku Dai, and, again, I did it competition style.  And so concluded class.  But it was only then that I realized the learning that had gone on.

The girls (embarassingly) mobbed me, each one wanting to tell me immediately what they thought about my karate.  They mimicked some of my moves and imitated the distinctive Shotokan breathing.  They were also able to communicate that they envied my focus during the kata and in class.  It was a great feeling to know that I was a good example for these girls; kind of like how I was inspired when I first started karate and looked to Alisa Ao, Cheryl Murphy, Shannon Ishi, and Eimi Kurite.  So, very cool, a great experience for me.

My clothes buying has been quite the experience here.  While Forbesgunge is considered a city by Bihar standards, it is a big village by India standards.  I have heard that there are very nice, posh shopping malls in Delhi, Mumbai, and Kolkata which rival the American shopping experience.  But here in Forbesgunge, one steps back in time in many different ways, not the least of which occurs in the realm of acquiring clothing.  Poorly lit big stalls open to the street and the incumbent noise, dust, bugs, etc., Forbesgunge clothing shops  have one long counter that spans the length of the stall.  Behind this counter are floor-to-ceiling shelves of individually packaged shirts, tops, and pants.  In order to see anything, it is required to tell the shop clerk what is preferred (long or short shirt length; cotton, poly, or mix for material type; short- or long-sleeved; size).  The clerk then goes and selects a collection that is bundled by size, which in the case of this American is XL.  The clerk then goes through the bundle and pulls out samples which he (I’ve seen no women shopkeepers or clerks) thinks would be liked and what they want me to buy (not unlike American car salespeople).  There is no such thing as browsing as I know it.  A few times I’ve taken matters into my own hands out of shear frustration, to the surprise of the shopkeep and my Apne Aap escort.  Additionally, the salesclerk inevitably lies about what kind of material the item is made; I’ll have requested cotton, but time and again I’ve been proffered garments with an avalanche of assurances such as “100 percent cotton, Madam.  You like.  Guarantee.”  There are no fitting rooms, so I’ve had to buy the item just by holding it up to me for size.  And, as I’ve found out after the fact, there is no ‘return’ policy, only an ‘exchange’ policy.  Nice racket.

It was my intent not to bring clothes to India but to buy them here, for several reasons:  1) reduce the amount of stuff to pack and carry; 2) support local business; and, 3) buy culturally appropriate clothing.  But what I did not consider:  my body type.  I am HUGE by Indian standards, although in the States I am a 6 – 8.

So I found it very comical that the ladies, old and young, at KGBV were so concerned with my garb.  I need to have not only an appropriate kurta (tunic) or t-shirt (loose fitting) and pants, but also a dupatta (long scarf) to finish the outfit.  When I refused the dupatta on the grounds it makes me very hot and sweaty, I was perceived as being unfinished and in danger of sticking out.  Well, LOL.  As if a scarf will hide the fact that I am five to six inches taller than most women here, that I have light colored skin not seen in this area, and that I have almost platinum blonde hair seen only on old people here.

So I am learning to embrace my different-ness; it does afford me a freedom that is rare for me in my current surroundings.  I say “hello”, wave, and smile at the strangers that sit down to gawk at me in train stations, at market stalls, and along village roads.  I have yet to be greeted back by anything more ominous than downcast glances (usually children), but am mostly responded to with smiles or astonished looks that I could possibly see and acknowledge that individual.  It is a truly unnerving experience, that just my smile can give someone such validation.

The SD card that I had got wiped, so no photos today.  I have another SD card, so HOPEFULLY, will be getting picks by the end of this week posted.  But at the rate I’m going, I’ll be lucky if it is by the end of the month. ; )

Thanks for reading.