American Dreams

I stood in front of the sparkling glass bottles of basil and oregano, boxes of wheat Chex cereal, and bags of strawberry Twizzlers in awe. I felt almost giddy as I reached up to a shelf and put a jar of olives in my shopping cart.

Friends, I found WHOLE WHEAT PASTA. And CHEESE.

I was obviously dreaming. How could I possibly be in India and also holding Dijon mustard? This was clearly an oxymoron, I had NEVER seen these items in Bhuj, how could they exist in Ahmedabad? But here they were, gleaming on shelves beneath a sign reading “International Foods.”

After three intense weeks of working every day including Sundays, plus three nights until 2:30am (more details on that later), I was totally exhausted. So I hopped on an overnight bus to Ahmedabad, where my friend and fellow Fellow Adva graciously let me appear for a weekend of not being in Bhuj. When I arrived I was totally and utterly emotionally exhausted, and starting to feel claustrophobic. Getting to Ahmedabad was both a relief and a shock: after the quiet pace of Bhuj, the city felt like a mess of sounds and colors and Western clothing. And I was shocked to be standing in a mall nicer than the Mall of America, in front of items I haven't seen in months.

I consider myself a fairly conscious consumer. I read every single ingredient list, without fail, and always ask myself if I can make something before buying it. I reject the notion that as an American one of my primary identities is to be a consumer. Yet as I held a jar of raspberry jam (with actual raspberry in it!) I felt like I was home.

Sitting by the man-made lake eating peanut butter on brown bread, I felt confused. I had never so blatantly experienced the connection between products and identity until that moment, and was embarrassed to realize that I had internalized one of the most obnoxious stereotypes of Americans – that we buy identity and find comfort in consumption.

As I become more comfortable in Bhuj, I no longer think about the fact that I live in a rather small desert town where the only non-Indian food options are paneer pizza and “Chinese” dosas, and where everyone assumes the white people all know each other (which tends to be true). Then the equilibrium tips and I suddenly feel totally out of my element. My escape is consumption , usually of media– I have already rewatched the entire four season series of Mad Men, not to mention three seasons of 30 Rock. I escape into nostalgia, familiarity, the idea of America.

And when I experience the (often justifiable) contempt some people feel for the West, I sometimes find myself defending my country. The other day I actually said to someone in earnest “I love America!” and immediately felt uncomfortable. Because when I think of people who shout out “I love America!” I think of people who spend more time defending flags than humans. But it turns out that being an American actually is an important part of my identity – and apparently consuming things makes me feel safe.

As I rode the bus home from Ahmedabad, using my bag of Western gems as a back pillow, I decided that it was okay to think of these items as comforting. I just couldn’t use them as a crutch. I have been back in Bhuj for a month and still relish the fact that I have olives in my refrigerator.

Why am I telling you all this? Because this feeling isn't unique to my being in India, it's just more obvious because it stands in contrast with the pace of life here. So I want to remember this feeling, and share it with you.

Come on in!

After an embarrassingly long hiatus, I thought I would make it up to you by inviting you into my apartment in Bhuj. I, for one, am always curious about how other people live.

I live in a two bedroom apartment in Bhanushali Nagar, a neighborhood rebuilt after the 2001 earthquake that destroyed much of Bhuj and inspired a distinct form of urban sprawl. In an effort to be as earthquake resistant as possible, very few buildings in the city are more than a few stories high, and the taller buildings that remain from before the earthquake are generally empty. In addition, new houses are built as free-standing structures instead of row houses, in order to prevent the kind of destruction that occurred in 2001. Everyone has a story about the earthquake, and many of them are quite painful. About 20,000 people died in the Kutch region on Republic Day, January 26, 2001, and about 400,000 homes were destroyed. Redevelopment is ongoing, and Kutch is often seen outside the region as an example of inspiring regrowth after tragedy. The affects of this rapid growth, I would add, are not always good, but that is a topic for another post.

Today my neighborhood boasts a few big houses and more apartments, the one grocery store in Bhuj, a neighborhood shop that grinds its own flour, plus plenty of dogs and cows. There is no such thing as centralized waste management, so I put my "compostables" in a concrete cylinder outside the building for the cows (see photo below); everything else goes in the other concrete cylinder, which is burned once in awhile and inhaled by everyone in the community. I try not to think too much about this.

I am on the first floor, which we in the States would call the second floor.

Inside you will find:
*A beautiful neon Ganesha to welcome you, thanks to my former roommate, Vrunda. I intend for him to be passed on to future AJWS Fellows.
* A "shower" room, with a nozzle for water to fill a bucket for bathing. I use a heating rod to heat the water, which involves electricity going into water. You can imagine why it took me awhile to actually buy the heating rod.
*Indian squat toilet
*My bedroom, which has a little outside seating area
*The "extra" bedroom, where I used to live and is now a sitting area/place for guests (hint hint)
*Kitchen with a gas stove

All in all, I feel super lucky to have such a nice place to live. I certainly do not expect to be able to afford a place like this in America for awhile.

That being said, I feel I should offer some context and qualification. First of all, I would like to point out that these photos make my place seem a lot bigger (and a little nicer) than it actually is. In addition, I want to add that few, if any, people in Bhuj live alone. Certainly a minuscule number of women. The other comparable apartments in my building typically house 4+ people, and here I am in a two bedroom by myself. I am aware of the privilege I represent having this space to myself. I want to share my space with you, but don't want to misrepresent the reality of living in India. So remember that this is just MY experience, and that for every perspective there are thousands of very different ones in Bhuj alone.

So . . . enjoy! And stay tuned for more (regular) posts!