After leaving Lata we made our way to the southern part of the Uttarakhand state over the course of two days. The road conditions did NOT improve and I feel I'm taking my life in my hands each time I board India's ramshackle public transportation. Our destination was the Corbett Tiger Reserve. A famous tourist destination and India's first National Park, the Corbett is teaming with wildlife. We found a guide and set out on an all day tiger-seeking jeep ride. All day we saw 3 kinds of deer and elk, wild boar, peacock, 3 kinds of monkey, huge cranes and horn billed birds, and other small jungle life. We finished the jeep ride after 9 hours having seen many tiger tracks, but no tigers. They are illusive creatures and only 10% of visitors see one, and usually from a great distance. At the end of the day, our guide arranged a 2 hour elephant ride. At this point I was ready to call it quits, but I'd never ridden an elephant, so I figured why not. The "saddle" consisted of a small padded platform with short poles on the corners. Ethan, the driver and I barely fit and our legs dangled off the sides. Near the end of the two hours, heading for home, we passed a jeep going in the opposite direction. The driver shouted in Hindi...our driver simply said, "Tiger" and turned the elephant around to follow the jeep. Ten minutes later we arrived in a thickly bush-choked area with 5 jeeps parked in a semi-circle. After some conversation and a lot of pointing, elephant man pointed us directly where everyone was pointing and crashed into the brush. Just as Ethan was saying, "This is NOT a good idea..." we heard the growl. A low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. The adrenaline soon followed and I was whipping my head round in all directions trying frantically to find the source of the noise. Growls and hisses came one after the other from the brush that rose to within 3 feet of my dangling legs. Ethan and I stammered and cursed until we came upon him. 15 feet off my side, and enormous body of black, white, and orange lay in the bushes. A large male, a truly rare sighting for visitors, especially this close. He bared his teeth, growled and hissed, and thankfully stayed where he was, apparently afraid of the elephant. When we finally moved away and started back to the road, I felt my heart rate return to normal. Its a funny thing, the fear of being eaten...
During this week of travel, Ethan and I monitored our shipments through an online tracker, but the shipment had stopped at the Uttarakhand border and hadn't moved in 5 days. We could see this on the tracker, but we couldn't get anyone on the phone who could a) explain the situation to us and b) speak English. We moved to the lakeside town of Nainetal, near the border, attempting to get to the bottom of the situation. After a few days of tense emails between Jeevan, myself, and my supplier in Mumbai, we came up with some backup plans, none of which I liked. Ethan and I only had 8 days left until we had planned on leaving for Nepal. Every way this could work out we could see involved us leaving before the work was completed. In the end, the lights would go up successfully, but this was certainly a personal failure in my eyes. It was a grumpy, frustrating couple of days with not-so-nice things said about Indian state border inspectors on our behalf. Finally, 2 hours into that day's phone effort with regulators and shipping companies I got the cell phone number of the city's shipping officer where the materials were being held. He explained there was a paperwork issues... nonsense. I explained that we had sent all paperwork necessary and I had copies and would be happy to bring them to his office to clear up the situation. After some more back and forth he said the magic words, "You're materials will be sent today, sir." High fives all around. Ethan and I left immediately for Kanda. We arrived that night, and so had the lights. I slept soundly that night with a weight lifted.
The first day back to work was like Christmas. We opened boxes upon boxes and organized our supplies. We drew a crowd of local men that pointed at and touched the strange equipment. In between the Hindi being spoken we heard words like solar, sun-power, and America.
We came across numerous small issues...the frame holes for the solar panels did not match the panel holes, there were no bolts to attach the two, not enough electrical wire for the street lights, etc, etc. To be expected, really. We took it in stride...out lights were here...all was well. Frankly, we enjoyed the extra trips to the market for supplies. We dug post holes and concreted in the bottom half of our street light posts, leaving the wiring and raising for the next day. Jeevan's sons, Jeet and Sadju, both helped and spirits were high. Two of Jeevan's employees, Sadu and Indar, have been with us since the beginning, speaking little and working constantly. Sadu is slender and smiles constantly. He often bears the brunt of Jeet's chiding. I've grown to like him immensely. He is more skilled than anyone else in Kanda we have met, and more humble. He had taught me quite a lot of Hindi. His family lives without electricity. Our criteria for home light selection tried to focus on widows or abandoned women with children, but I very much wanted to bend the rules for him.
The next day was a holiday, Shiva's birthday. No one was working and despite our wishes, neither were we. Ethan and I, and the rest of the volunteers staying at Jeevan's took a jeep ride to Bageshwar, the nearby, larger village. We wandered the mostly closed market and bought supplies and gifts. On our way back to the jeep pickup area, our way was blocked by a parade of dancing men, a horn band, and 100 or so Indian spectators. The band gyrated and moved in and out of the dancing crowd. Someone informed us it was a wedding procession. Once we were spotted, the crowd and band moved closer and motioned us to join. Exchanging nervous smiles we delayed until we had no choice. Lily, a British volunteer and I jumped in the center and tried to mimic the enthusiastic moves of the men. A cheer went up, the band played faster, the men stamped harder. Soap suds were sprayed from above ad rained down like snow. Flower petals littered the street, thrown by little girls that giggled and pointed at the dancing foreigners. We shook hands and were introduced to our dancing partners, who turned out to be the family of the groom. He was riding in the flower-enwrapped car just behind us. We were promptly invited to the wedding. Before we could respond, the band started up again...the gyrating continued.
All the way down the street, and into and open square we meandered. Tents were set up and food was being prepared. The groom exited the car dressed in an elaborate get-up. We were asked to pose for pictures with him and then his uncle insisted we eat with them. To refuse was obviously an insult, so we accepted. Escorted past the bridal party and up to the buffet, we fell upon the delicious food to our hosts delight. Curries, pickled vegetables, flavored dhal, and excellent chapatis as well as sweets dotted the room. After a couple hours of conversation we excused ourselves to return to Kanda, in shock from the day's events.
The next morning we began to wire and raise the street light systems. The systems are especially top-heavy and it takes at least 4 people to raise one by hand. The first system raised was at the ROSE center and 9 people participated. It was a circus, everyone was yelling in Hindi and English, and we thought for sure it was going over...but we managed to bolt it in place. Handshakes and congratulations went all around. The real test would be when the sun went down and the light (in theory) would automatically turn on. We moved down to the community center construction site and (more gracefully) erected the remaining 3 street lights. That night Jeevan threw a birthday celebration for his son Sadju. As the sun set we anxiously awaited the lights turning on. As it grew darker, I literally sat and stared until, "click", the sensors in the solar panel closed the circuit and a blanket of light fell on the small courtyard outside the ROSE kitchen. Cheers, applause, and more handshakes followed. The women preparing the birthday feast immediately moved the operation from the dim kitchen to the courtyard. The men stood around smoking and speaking in Hindi. After the meal, the family gathered to sing happy birthday to Sadju. People remained in the room for another hour, singing songs. People I hadn't met congratulated me on the lights.
The next day we began the installation of the home lights. The first home we came to was a 20 minute walk from Jeevan's house and was occupied by 3 women (grandmother, mother, and daughter). The house has 2 small rooms, one for sleeping and one for eating and cooking. The walls and floor were mud and the bedding was a few blankets neatly folded in a corner of the room. In order to hang the lights I clamored up the thin rafters and ended up covered in soot, to the amusement of our hosts. Watching the old woman smile at the light in her kitchen was very satisfying. The rest of the day proceeded similarly and we grew proficient enough to put up a system in a half an hour. Working with Sadu, Indar, and even Jeet was quite enjoyable and we got to know more about our friends and their families.
The next morning, our final full day in Kanda, we headed up to the market to buy several doors for a widow's unfinished home. The single room house had lain half finished for quite a while, and this way she could at least move in and not worry about someone robbing her of her lights. Sadu expertly cut the door to fit and added hinges and a clasp.
That night Jeevan and his family threw us a farewell party. Jeevan procured some goat, quite a big deal, and we looked forward to the protein and flavor of meat. Mats were set up in the courtyard under the plume of our street lamp and we sat in a circle with everyone in Kanda that we had worked with and some whose houses we had added lights to. One of these was a woman who is deaf and mute. Her gestures of gratitude towards us were very touching. The meal was served with two dishes of goat, one black, and one yellow / red. I was two pieces into the later, mid chew, when Ethan and I's eyes met. I mouthed, "Raw?" He nodded. We both finished our pieces and moved onto the black...cooked, but not exactly meat...curried goat stomach...MMMM. Halfway through the meal the power to the valley went out (a usual occurrence). Looking across the darkness, our lights were the only shining amongst thousands of homes. Sadu clapped me on the back...it was a good moment. We bid our friends farewell, promising to return someday. Jeevan told us that we were family, this was our home, and that we should return with our families. We retired to our beds preparing for the dawn's arrival and our full day of travel to the Nepal border.
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