Tag Archives: Books

On being a Yoga School Dropout

11 Feb

I had my first ever yoga lesson in Goa last November and to say it came as something of a shock to my system would be the understatement of the sub-continent.  Whilst I am far from being naturally sporty,  I’d always seen myself as being inherently supple,  due to a childhood ballet regime and,  or so I fondly imagined, being naturally “bendy”.

And then I met Joey, a human yogi-cum-pretzel with an intriguing Swiss-Goan accent,  who exhorted me to “straighten ze foot, not point it” and made me try to put my arms and legs in all manner of unnatural positions,  none of which were even likely to be possible.  After about three minutes,  it was obvious that I wasn’t even remotely bendy (apparently, I have “ze tight hips” – who knew?) and that twenty-odd years of ballet work counted for nothing in the brave new world of yoga. And yet,  in spite of being supremely crap at something which Joey makes look incredibly simple (“crossing ze legs”, for example) I enjoyed my lessons and went back for more as often as I could last year. Joey lives in Switzerland for six months of the year and teaches Iyangar yoga,  and then returns to Goa each November for a further six months, thus cunningly avoiding the Swiss winters.  Whilst here,  he leads an interesting life which sees him teaching yoga by day and being one of northern Goa’s most sought after karaoke kings by night.  Sadly,  I am to karaoke what I am to yoga,  ie dreadful,  but it’s quite good fun and makes a pleasing contrast to the bendy stuff.

Lack of internet access for much of my second week here has resulted in much reading,  including “Yoga School Dropout”,  which I enjoyed hugely.  Lucy Edge had a high flying London based career in advertising, and dabbled in the occasional trendy yoga class,  until burn-out led her to chuck in her job and head to India to see which of the many branches of yoga would allow her to find herself and gain inner peace and harmony.  She spent five months travelling from ashram to ashram, experimenting with different disciplines and encountering a wide range of gurus, fellow travellers, 1” thick Indian mattresses and random men. 

Tantalisingly for me,  on a number of occasions she almost came to Goa and I was keen to read of her experiences here,  but in each case she changed her mind at the last minute and went elsewhere.  However,  even without a Goan flavour,  it’s a great book and neatly tied together a few strands of interest for me: travel writing, India, yoga,  women without gainful employment …!

And, for anyone who does yoga,  it contains perhaps the ultimate yoga joke.

Question:         How many yoga students does it take to change a light bulb?

Answer:           One, but she needs two bricks, three chairs, four bolsters, five blankets and six ropes.

Goan away again

31 Jan

I’m off to Mumbai and then on to Goa again this evening, complete with the usual suitcase full of books, high factor suncream and insect repellant, as seen here.  

The eagle eyed amongst you may observe that yes, “The Far Pavilions” is indeed making a return trip. It went with me in November, it came home with me in December and now we’re off again.  Hopefully, this time I’ll finish it and leave it out there.

And here’s my Maine Coon cat Thomas “helping” with my packing:

Good to know that,  even in India,  all of my clothing will be covered in cat fur.

Girls around the world need you to buy this book

30 Jan

“Because I am a girl  – I am less likely to go to school.

Because I am a girl – I am more likely to suffer from malnutrition.

Because I am a girl – I am more likely to suffer violence in the home.

Because I am a girl – I am more likely to marry and start a family before I reach my twenties.

Seven authors have visited seven different countries and spoken to young women and girls about their lives, struggles and hopes. The result is an extraordinary collection of writings about prejudice, abuse, and neglect, but also about courage, resilience and changing attitudes. Proceeds from sales of this book will go to PLAN, one of the world’s largest child-centered community development organisations.”

And last week I attended the very moving launch of the “Because I Am A Girl” book at Waterstones in Piccadilly. I bought four copies and have since read my own copy twice.  From my time in corporate life,  I know how powerful story telling can be as a way to get a message across; this collection of stories (which are both fiction and non-fiction) is part of Plan’s campaign to raise awareness and break the cycle of poverty which so impacts women,  by educating girls and investing in women.  As Marie StauntonPlan’s Chief Executive, said at the launch event:

“Girls are often invisible in the developing world – and because they’re not valued, they don’t feel valued.  They’re less likely to go to school than boys, more likely to experience violence, poverty and sexual abuse …”

The stories are set in Togo, Sierra Leone, the Dominican Republic, Brazil, Ghana, Uganda and Cambodia and the book features contributions from renowned authors such as Kathy Lette, Deborah Moggach (who were both at the launch, and who signed my copies of the book), Irvine Welsh and Joanne Harris.  As well as Marie’s very moving descriptions of Plan’s work,  we were also able to hear Kathy and Deborah reading extracts from their stories. Actors and Plan supporters Larry Lamb (who had just returned to the UK from a week in Senegal for Plan; the next evening I saw him on TV at the National Television Awards … talk about a diverse life …) and Joanne Froggatt read from the stories set in Togo and Santa Domingo in the DR.

Here’s an extract from Kathy Lette’s story about her trip to Brazil:

“I wanted to tell the story of one girl. But all the girls I met – Maria, Jeanine, Rosana, Lorena, Amanda, Marina, Cintia, Melissa, Nataly, Teresa, Ana and Johanna – had the same sad tale. It’s a story of child prostitution, teenage pregnancy, HIV, no contraception, illegal back-street abortion, sex tourism, single mothers, macho men, irresponsible, absentee fathers and domestic violence.”  

The book also features, as the other non-fiction contribution, a very damning piece from Marie Phillips (author of “Gods Behaving Badly”,  a really wonderful novel) based on her visit to Uganda and her shock at how the responsibility for sexual abuse is placed on girls and not their attackers. I think this was a brave stance for Plan to take,  in terms of including it in the anthology; I’m sure it would have been easier to leave it out,  or ask Marie to re-visit her article and change the focus.  Instead,  it is included,  as is a piece from Plan’s Uganda Country Manager, explaining why Plan takes the stance that they do and what impact this having for girls in the country to date.

At the end of the readings,  we had an opportunity to ask questions and an audience member asked Marie Staunton how she would spend £10,000 and make a difference. Looking a little taken aback,  she immediately passed the question over to two of her team,  the Plan Country Managers for India and Uganda,  who both replied that they would like to spend such money on extra, separate toilet facilities for schools,  as the lack of toilets is often an issue for girls,  especially when menstruating; the Uganda manager also told us that many schools in her country are boarding schools in remote rural areas and so she would like more money to spend on bicycles to make it easier for girls to actually get to the schools or home to visit their families.

Publishers Random House are donating all of the book’s profits to Plan – so please,  buy a copy today (Amazon have it at a substantial discount,  and it’s also currently included in Waterstones “3 for 2″ promotion).  Together, we can make a difference to girls around the world.

Happy birthday, Renuka

21 Jan

Today is Renuka’s ninth birthday; she is the little girl I sponsor at El Shaddai’s Rainbow House, a residential home for girls in northern Goa, India. I sent Renuka a letter, birthday card and small gift a few weeks ago and it occurred to me this morning that she is likely, I hope, to be having a very different birthday experience this year compared to last year, because this January will be the first of her life in which she has had a permanent home, an education and three meals a day.

Renuka has only been living at Rainbow House since May 2009; prior to that, she and her mother and brother (her father, an alcoholic, left them some years ago, re-married and does not provide for them financially) were living rough in a roadside shack, having arrived in Goa in 2004 as economic migrants from the neighbouring Indian state of Karnataka. An El Shaddai outreach worker met them and encouraged Renuka’s mother to come to one of the charity’s night shelters, which provide a safe place to sleep and a hot meal to those who need it. After a few weeks, Renuka’s mother was offered a cleaning job and accommodation (worth about £40 a month) at a hotel – but there was no room or capacity for Renuka, only her brother (this part of her story really upsets me and makes me think many thoughts as to the feelings of emotional rejection and abandonment that this must have caused in an eight year old child – not to mention how symptomatic it is of gender inequity in India, where sons are valued over and above daughters).

Fortunately, Renuka was offered a place at Rainbow House, El Shaddai’s residential home for 51 girls aged 8 to 13 and now enjoys, in their words: “… love and care along with nourishing food, and a good education”.

Upon arrival, she had only the clothes she was wearing at the time and was issued with her uniform of a school skirt, two Rainbow House polo shirts and some underwear – these remained her only clothing until I visited her six months later and provided her with the dress she’s wearing in the photo and a few other t-shirts – hence the huge grin, I suppose (or perhaps that was at the thought of the chocolate bar!). The girls sleep in dormitories with bunk beds and attend a private school, also run by the charity, in the next village. This is called the “Shanti Niketan”, meaning “Non Formal School” and the classes are organised according to ability rather than age. Stella, the manager of Rainbow House, told me that Renuka wants to be a doctor when she grows up; the scale of this ambition impressed me hugely. I don’t even know if it’s possible in terms of cost and education – but I hope that my sponsorship of Renuka at least makes her feel loved and cared for a little bit.

I visited her about six times when I was in Goa before Christmas and she became a little less shy with me each time. Several of the girls have sponsors and they are fiercely competitive with each other about this. Stella told me that Renuka, as one of the youngest and newest arrivals at the home, had previously felt very left out when other girls received letters, cards, gifts and visits, so she (Stella) was very relieved when I arrived in order to make a fuss of this little girl. Renuka speaks three Indian languages and is learning English, so our interactions were by necessity limited to the bits of English which she did know and an awful lot of hand gestures, plus miming, drawing in the dirt with a stick and improvising. But we played noughts and crosses, drew pictures, looked at photographs and she showed me some of her traditional Indian dance steps, as she is a member of the school’s dancing troupe (I envisage this as being nothing like an Indian dancing version of “Glee” – ahem).  However, I am slowly learning a little Hindi and I hope that a combination of feeling more familiar with each other and our respective increased vocabularies will make our next visits (in February) a bit easier.

Watch this space. I’m also a bit more clued up as to what to take as gifts for both Renuka and the other children; it was much easier to shop for her this time around, as I have a rough idea of her size (far smaller than an English nine year old would be), her likes and dislikes and of the limitations of her home environment. This time, I’m taking her a dress and some underwear from my wonderful mum, who I imagine had great fun choosing Renuka a little cotton dress (we only have nephews/grandsons in our immediate family, so shopping for girls is quite the novelty) and I bought t-shirts from Old Navy when I was in the US before Christmas. Prompted by a game that the children and I played with two balloons representing the Sun and the Earth, where we talked about time differences and different countries (“when it’s dark in India, it’s daytime in England …”) I’ve also bought an inflatable globe as I thought that it might be fun to look at a map of the world and talk about different countries, especially as the El Shaddai sponsors are based all over the world.

Plus of course I had a whale of a time with a very helpful sales assistant in Waterstones, who spent about an hour with me a few weeks ago, helping me pick out suitable books. My criteria was quite defined, which made it harder and hence made me grateful for the continuing High Street presence of a bookstore: written at a suitable level of English, not too many Caucasian images in the illustrations, no mentions of stuff to which she could never relate (which cut out tons of American books, with their mentions of  “sleep-overs” and the like), no branded books like “Hannah Montana” and “High School Musical”, nothing pink and stereotyped … but we got there in the end, so thank you, Rachel in Waterstones, you’re a star. I go back to Goa on 31st January, so I hope to return to Rainbow House in early February – I’m really looking forward to it.

Sponsoring Renuka is one of the most significant things I feel I’ve ever done. It’s only £15 per month but it makes such a difference to Renuka, to children like her and to El Shaddai’s cash flow.

Happy birthday!

On “Two Under the Indian Sun”

2 Dec

So I’m working my way down that huge pile of books and have landed on “Two Under the Indian Sun: an evocative memoir of the days of the Raj” by Jon and Rumer Godden.

I loved many of Rumer Godden’s books as a child and her writing style in this memoir of life in northern India (now part of Bangladesh, since partition) during the period 1914-1920 is just as lyrical and evocative.

“TUTIS” was written in 1966; here is the author’s memory of Indian women in 1914 (my use of bold):

“The two societies, English and Indian, did not often intermingle then except in the larger towns where there were more cultured circles. It was partly prejudice, partly because it was so difficult; Indian women, who play such a prominent and vital part in political and social life now, were still inhibited, most of them still sheltered and their husbands would hardly ever bring them – and when they did come it was awkward. Hindu wives tended to be even more orthodox in eating than their husbands; they were trained to silence rather than conversation and many of them disliked contact with westerners while most upper class Muslim women were in strict purdah”.

Fascinating to consider the changes brought about since then.

I’m currently reading … “Indian Takeaway: A Very British Story”

29 Nov

… by broadcaster and journalist Hardeep Singh Kohli. He was born in the UK to Sikh parents from the Punjab and, as a boy always knew where home was: Glasgow. But everyone else always assumed he was Indian, unable to see past the brown skin and the turban. This book is his story of a journey round India as part of his quest to help him discover where he’s really from in the context of the immigrant experience.

As you’d expect of a man with a newspaper column entitled “Hardeep is your love?”, the book contains some crackers of punny chapter titles: Sikh and Ye Shall Find, Of Mysore Men and (of course) When the Goan Gets Tough, the Tough Get Goan.

And here’s his description of the gender differences involved in negotiating airport security:

 

“Although India has had a woman Prime Minister [and of course currently has a female President, Smt. Pratibha Devisingh Patil] and beloved manifestations of the female form come in many of their polytheistic deities, one soon realises the sweet quaintness of Indian pre-feminist culture as one negotiates security. Women are siphoned off into a separate queue, off to a dedicated channel where they pass through the beeping security doorway into a small curtained doorway where the outline of their bodies is discreetly described by the handheld detecting machine …”

 I’m off to Bangalore for two days shortly so this will be my reality;  it’s particularly marked at Bangalore airport, where men outnumber women about 20:1,  so I look forward to sailing through the “Ladies’ Queue” without issue or encumbrance.

Packing: first things first …

7 Nov

Indian books

 

I fly to Mumbai tomorrow, but not before ensuring that I have a decent pile of books to hand with which to while away my month-long trip.

(This is a small selection; in total, I’m taking 30 paperbacks along for the ride. I may not read them all, but at least I won’t suffer The Fear of Having Nothing To Read at any point).

Mind the (gender) gap – on the Tube

3 Nov

As seen at Canary Wharf yesterday – this fantastic poster,  part of the campaign to promote the paperback edition of my favourite book, “Why Women Mean Business”:

As I was in CW for a gender diversity role interview,  I hope this was a good omen!

Apologies for the poor quality of the photo, btw – I snapped it on my BlackBerry as I was passing via the escalator.

Mind the Gender Gap photo

Gender differences in packing for long-haul travel?

2 Nov

So, big reveal time: I’m going to India (Goa via Mumbai) on Sunday and will be out there, on my own, for four weeks.

Probably not-a-shocker at all: I’m going to take two suitcases with me.  One will be filled with contributions for the children’s home where I’ll be doing volunteer work for part of my time – primarily craft materials and pens – plus books for myself and a hell of a lot of very high factor sun cream.  The other will contain my clothes and all the other bits and pieces which I think I’ll need for a month away, bearing in mind that I’ve been to India before,  know what I tend to use and also what I can and cannot buy (immediate examples of the “not readily available” variety includes yes, high factor sun cream and books by anyone other than Dan Brown and Danielle Steel).  

Also probably not news to many: I’m preparing for the trip by producing and working from a variety of lists.  I’ve found some (not all,  because I’m not,  heavens forbid, actually,  you know, “back packing”) good ideas and helpful tips in this book, “High Heels and a Head Torch” by Chelsea Duke; and it’s thank to Chelsea that I do now own my very own head torch,  which is a small beam of light attached to a Pixie Lott-esque headband (“Are you going pot-holing while you’re away?” enquired TLS).  

High Heels and a Head Torch

It is apparently useful when walking home alone via unlit tracks or beaches or,  much more likely in my case,  sitting up in bed and reading.  So I have a head torch (and spare batteries for it,  because I’m Type A like that); I’m also now taking 500mg of Vitamin B1 a day in the hope that this will act as an insect deterrent and prevent me from being treated as the Dish of the Day by every mozzie on the Indian west coast. I will be using insect repellent too,  but Chelsea assures me that the B1 does make a difference and hopefully it will be useful in the event that I miss a bit when dowsing myself in Deet.

So,  given all of this reading, thinking, planning and pondering, imagine my chuckles when I received this blog alert on “minimalist travel” from Zen Habits in my in-box over the weekend. And, whilst I genuinely do try to avoid apportioning gender stereotypes, the idea of being away from home for 100 days with only 3 t-shirts to wear/sustain me and also using the same multi-purpose detergent liquid for washing one’s hair, body, clothes and even TEETH (!) can surely only have come from a man.  My eyes almost glazed over at the idea of having to do laundry every two days too,  in order to re-use one’s three t-shirts: how dull would that be?

So, sorry Karol  – but your minimalist approach is not for me in this instance.  I’m sticking with Chelsea,  as at least her packing list features such “frivolities” as makeup,  a bit of jewellery and a pair of sparkly flip-flops.

On “Women of the Raj”

31 Oct

I’ve just finished reading “Women of the Raj” by Margaret MacMillan,  purchased for the bargainous price of 1p from Amazon Marketplace (this second-hand book buying thing is my token nod towards economy whilst I’m on my sabbatical;  I’m still buying just as many books as before but I’m trying to pay less for them … but the volume,  no pun intended, continues).

“Hello”,  said the postman on Wednesday morning. “Here’s your daily Amazon delivery.”

Women of the Raj

So, “Women of the Raj” continues my fascination with all things from India,  telling as it does the story of some of the British women who were part of Britain’s involvement in India over three centuries,  but particularly between 1850 and the “end of the empire” in 1947. The role of the women of the Raj was to create a replica of British society and the book,  using source material such as letters, memoirs and novels of the period looks at how this was done and how British women from all walks of life adjusted to a country in which almost everything was “foreign” – described in the book as:

“The women … press on with their daily tasks, creating homes for their men, bringing up their children, and trying always to live the life of an English gentlewoman in the midst of an alien people.”

I’ll be going to India myself next month (more to come on this in a bit) and I know that I’ll mostly be packing lightweight clothing in loose, light fabrics … so try to imagine being in 80-100 degree F heat and yet being:

 “ … expected to dress as if you are still at Home [England]. Even on the hottest days, they wore stockings and dresses, which fell, until after the First World War, in heavy folds to the ground; and, until standards were relaxed during the Second world War, they never went out with their arms bare.”

I also liked this analogy, comparing the women’s’ clothing with the infrastructure of the British presence in India:

“Underneath, they wore petticoats and camisoles and, for much of the Raj, the inevitable stays [corsets] – the iron frame for the memsahib just as the Indian Civil Service was the iron frame for British India.”

And this bit also struck me as so very true; the likenesses between the British class system and the Indian caste structure had not previously occurred to me:

“In their love of rank and complicated social rules, the British were also influenced by their surroundings.  The Indian love of ritual, the whole elaborate structure of caste with its rules that governed how you ate, how you married, even how you dresses, seeped into their collective outlook.”

As well as providing a good overview of the history of the British in India in general,  and of the associated experiences of the “women of the Raj” in particular, MacMillan also tells the stories of a few specific women. I particularly enjoyed reading about Annette Akroyd, who, in 1873, with some help from her Indian friends, opened a school for Hindu girls.

(Further reading led me to the discovery that her son, William Beveridge, was the author of the report which became the foundation of the British Welfare State in the late 1940s).

So, a recommended read;  well worth a penny of your cash and a few hours of your reading time.

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