The girls of Odanadi

Although I'm blogging out of order I still wanted to share more stories of the girls at Odanadi, in part to give you a picture of how these girls ended up there, but also to keep them and their stories in my memory. The first few girls I write about were my favourites and I've changed most of their names.

"Divia"

I remember seeing Divia on the first night I arrived during a quick tour of Odanadi. Groups of girls enveloped me, shaking my hand, asking my name and then bounding off. Divia was hard to miss as she had a cloth over her mouth and chin, as well as a scarf over her head leaving only half of her face visible. She disappeared quickly but the image of her stuck in my head.

Turns out Divia was apart of the core group of girls that I would interact with most, as she didn't attend college so was at Odanadi during the day taking part in the activities that volunteers facilitated. I learnt that Divia was in her early 20s, that her closest friend was Sari (who I will talk about later) and that they were inseparable. Divia was cheeky with a great laugh and could be a challenge to manage in class. But I liked her because of her cheeky personality which was a change from the others who were meek and shy.

It was hard not to wonder what had happened to Divia as she was clearly hiding some kind of scar. I suspected that she had been cut or burned and that it had been done by someone else (this was early on when I believed that all of the girls had been victims of trafficking).

Girls stories are generally not known to volunteers but I had access to her file because of the case histories that I was writing. I couldn't read them myself as they were in Kannada, so they were told to me by the counsellors based on what was in the file and/or personal knowledge. Through this process I learnt that Divia had tried to commit suicide by pouring kerosene on herself. She had been in a love marriage at the time and had resorted to trying to kill herself due to being tortured by her in-laws.

The root of the problem in this case is likely that Divia's was a "love marriage" which is something that the majority of families in India (particularly in villages) cannot accept. It is not uncommon for parents to threaten suicide, and actually carry out the plan, when their son or daughter goes against their wishes and marries someone not of their choosing. Although things are changing in India, particularly in cities, arranged marriages are an integral part of Indian culture, and the majority don't know any other way, nor do they expect (or sometimes want) anything different.

Well, it appears that Divia's inlaws didn't approve of their marriage and took it out on her to the point that she felt that the only way out was to kill herself. It amazes me how many times I hear of people in India trying to commit suicide by setting themselves on fire. What a horrible way to die, and even more horrible when you survive given the physical consequences.

Obviously Divia didn't die but was greatly scarred from the attempt. I saw before and after pictures and it wasn't a pretty sight. Divia is clearly very self conscious about her face so covers up at all times. Her husband left her following the attempt and re-married. She then headed to the city and met another man who eventually stole from her, which led to her going to stay with her sister in Goa. Sadly she wasn't accepted by her sister's inlaws and ended up at Odanadi in December 2011 with nowhere else to go.

By mid February 2012, only a couple weeks after meeting her, Divia returned to her family. I still don't know why she left, but gather that she was simply missing her family. The girls who come to Odanadi as adults seem to have the most difficult time adjusting to life there and don't stay for long. The younger ones basically grow up there and don't know any different.

Despite leaving by choice Divia seemed really sad and withdrawn the day she left. I am sure she had mixed feelings about leaving as she had developed some close friends such as Sari; she had been exposed to foreigners and new things such as English which she was being taught and was excelling at. One of the staff got her to pull down her cloth the day she left. We told her that she was still pretty and that there was no need to cover up. She shyly shook her head and pulled the cloth up clearly not feeling the same way. The sad thing is that had she stayed at Odanadi they would have helped her get plastic surgery, but I guess the draw home was too strong.

Being the social worker that I am, I safety planned with Divia during our goodbye and encouraged her to call or come back if things weren't good at home. Even after only knowing her for a short time I was sad that I would never see her again nor know how she would fair in life. Prior to knowing that she was leaving I had bought a bracelet of hers that she had made during a jewellery workshop (any of the other ones were God awful). I'm so happy to have it as it will always remind me of her.

"Remi"

Remi early on when she was at her healthiest

Remi and I had a connection from the beginning as she was at my homestay when I arrived and then gave me a tour of Odanadi on my first night. Remi is in her early 20s and a resident of Odanadi who has been given a job as Receptionist/Security. She mans the gate outside and sits there all day signing people in. She receives a salary of 1000 rupees per month ($20) plus has a pretty sweet set up with her own "suite" at the entrance which means she doesn't have to stay in the dorms with the other girls.

Remi always greeted me in the morning with a cheerful "very good morning sister!" and always asked if I had finished my breakfast. I am convinced that every Indian person (those that have not actually studied English in school) have learned the same four sentences in English: 1. What is your good name? 2. How are you? 3. I am fine (never anything else but "fine") 4. Finished your breakfast/lunch/dinner? You get asked these questions ALL THE TIME. If I had a rupee for ever time I was asked these questions I'd be living in a palace by now.

Anyway back to Remi. She was always a joy to have contact with; so cheerful with a beautiful smile, she took great pride in her appearance and her job and loved any time that I spent with her. Some days we worked on her English as I sat with her at Reception having a chai (tea). The words "would" and "are" were a great challenge for her so we were working on that, and the more forceful she got with saying those words, the better she got...a proud moment!

I was surprised to learn that Remi had mental health issues; Bi-Polar to be specific. Both of her parents were mentally ill; her mother very much so. Apparently she used to dig her own grave. Her father re-married after which Remi and her brother were split amongst relatives. She bounced between relatives, last getting kicked out of her grandmother's for talking to boys. She was experiencing some mental health issues herself and ended up at a NGO which deallt with same. Her father picked her up from there but that didn't last. She wasn't treated well by him and his new family and long story short she ended up getting referred to Odanadi.

I was shocked to hear that when Remi arrived 2 years back she presented as mentally disturbed; dancing all the time, with very poor hygiene, and going to the bathroom wherever. This was so not the girl I knew! But with meds, the structure of Odanadi and a job she had not only stabilized, but was thriving.

Well while I was there her mother got sick and she planned to go see her. I knew what kind of sick her mother was but didn't let on that I knew because volunteers aren't supposed to question residents about their personal circumstances. Over a couple weeks she went back and forth between her village and Odanadi. By the end of it her mother was admitted to the hospital run by the same NGO Remi had been to when she was younger. Remi was happy her mother was getting help and at first seemed well herself. But what transpired next was a complete breakdown of the person Remi had been. She was first manic; dishevelled and changing her clothes every five minutes, overly affectionate, talking all the time, and just all over the place. One day she got disruptive and aggressive with the other girls which led to her losing her job. Then she went into a low, looking dazed, tired and her face looked so ill. It was simply not the same Remi and was so sad to see.

On the mend

Stanly told me that Remi had begged Odanadi's doctor to take her to see her mother, which the doctor did against his advice. He felt strongly that doing so would interfere with Remi's progress in dealing with her own mental health issues. Well turns out Stanly predicted right and Remi experienced a complete breakdown at the expense of her mother. But, who knows, had she not been able to go, knowing her mother was ill and needed her support, might have sent her spiralling anyway. But at the time I left, although back on meds, and with her job back as a means to stabilize her, she was still very ill. I had never before seen a mental health breakdown such as that. Anyone that doesn't see mental illness as an actual disease like that of a physical disease needed to see Remi's transformation to see the light.

"Sari"

Ah my sweet Sari. For those of you know my girl Denise, Sari is like my Indian Denise. We simply liked eachother from the get go and had a special bond despite her struggles with English and mine with Kannada.

Like the other girls I've talked about, Sari is in her early 20s. She fell in love with a married man who apparently brought her to his home to basically try and force his wife out. He ended up assaulting his wife in the process. Well it appears that Sari's family has pretty much disowned her because of this and she can't return home.

Stanly explained to me that what this man had done; taken another woman despite being married, was illegal in India and that he could be charged. Can you imagine how backogged the courts would be in North America if this was the case there?? So Odanadi could have helped Sari "file a case," words that you hear all the time here (they file cases for everything) but it sounds like she is still in love with the guy so didn't want to follow through with it.

Well one day a guy shows up at Odanadi saying he is the brother of Divia (whose story is above, and who was Sari's best friend at the time). Stanly met with this guy knowing full well he wasn't Divia's brother and eventually got him to admit that he was Sari's man. Apparently Sari had a cell phone and called and asked him to come. Stanly also got him to admit what he had done to his wife after which he agreed to bring her to Odanadi so they could counsel them on their issues. By this point it was apparent to me that Odanadi was a one stop shop for anyone with any kind of problem. People would show up all the time with complaints about all sorts of things and they would "counsel" them, which often meant shouting matches between the counsellor and the people. I don't know how productive it was as it's never worked for me in all of my years of practice!

Three generations

But anyway, big shocker, the husband and wife didn't show up the following day as agreed to. Stanly said that was ok as they had succeeded in getting a so called "community vigilance committee" to keep watch on the couple. The husband had also been given the message that should he mistreat his wife again, that a legal case would be filed against him. So Stanly was pleased with the outcome.



It seems that Divia and Sari must have been "scolded" for asking Sari's man to come because after the incident Sari said she was leaving. Her family showed up and they talked, but she didn't end up leaving. I suspect that they wouldn't allow her to return. Days later Divia left and Sari became very depressed. She seemed to want to talk to me about what was going on, but unfortunately couldn't articulate in English what was going on or what she was feeling. All she could tell me was that she was sad, and that she had problems in her family. I don't know what will become of her; whether her parents will allow her to come home; whether she will run off with the man she apparently loves or just stay at Odanadi. It is such a waste though, as she has no job and has no interest in school, so she remains there, almost like being in jail, not working towards anything.

"Vani"

Vani is also in her 20s and works in the office as an assistant. I could tell Vani was an Odanadi veteran by her confidence around the place. She spoke the best English out of all the girls, had been to college, wore western clothes and was always on her cell phone like any other girl her age.

Over time I learned that she and Stanly's family had a strong connection. She spent time at their house and often helped out with their children. She told me that Stanly treated her like family and that she at times would stay over, celebrate holidays with them etc. That was nice to hear...

When the family had their accident Vani was one of the girls that was sent over to babysit me and she was clearly the one in charge. After those couple days at the house she became more comfortable around me and we got to the point where we would tease eachother. I nicknamed her "Bad Girl" because when she stayed at the house she took all the hot water (and I hate cold showers with a passion!) But knowing that she never gets a hot shower (as they only have cold) I couldn't be annoyed. She deserved every last hot drop that she got. But nevertheless, it was something to tease her about..which she would laugh at, but at the same time say "sister, you don't tell Stanly Sir ok?"

I didn't know much about her history until she and I took a trip to Mysore one day to shop for clothes for the kids (which was a bust) but nevertheless we had a nice time together. While on the way she told me her story. Her mother passed away when she was in grade 2 at which time she and her older sister were adopted by the family that her mother had worked for as a maid. Vani said she never felt like she belonged in this family as they were well off, whereas her family had been poor. Her adoptive mother who she calls her auntie was physically abusive towards her (only her) and so life was difficult. When she was 15 she was basically dumped at Odanadi after her sister ran away with the family's driver. It seems that the family was worried that they would have problems with Vani as well. She has seen very little of her adoptive parents since and is thankful for having been brought to Odanadi as she feels she has been exposed to good values, education, foreigners etc. Yet when she talked about her story there was clearly a sadness and obvious loss within her.

That day after traipsing all over God's green acre I took her to KFC for lunch. She had never been there and having "non-veg" is such an exciting thing for these girls given they get so little of it, that it was a big deal. She shyly ate her Big Crunch combo and wouldn't let me take a picture of her to commemorate the occasion. Outside of the Odanadi walls she was not the confident, in-charge kind of person that she was within. But, she can be very assertive and can stand up for herself. She plans to marry in a few years to someone that Stanly feels is good for her. I have hope that she won't be a victim of domestic violence as so many other women in her situation are. But from what I've seen and heard of her scrapping abilities, I think it's the future husband that might have to watch out :)

Anala

I had little contact with Anala, only a hello every now and again as she flitted by shyly. But I felt like I knew her after writing a case history on her after reading her file.

Anala, now age 10, was found on the banks of a lake by a passerby on the day of her birth. She was brought to Odanadi the next day and named Anala, meaning "from the earth" in Kannada. Odanadi has been her home ever since.

Her story hit the media, who went on to investigate the circumstances of her birth and abandonment. The articles had conflicting information which made me wonder what the actual truth was. As I wrote her case history I made this known, and used the words "allegedly and reportedly" as I would in child protection work. Because the one thing that was clear was that the facts were unclear. I was told by the counsellor; however, to take those words out and to write what she told me, which was what Odanadi believed, as fact. I was uncomfortable with this, particularly because Anala may one day read her file, and I didn't want her to be hurt by something that may not even be true. It was at this point that I took my name and credentials off of the case histories that I was writing. I didn't want my name to be attached to something that I wasn't confident was accurate.

Now to her story...

Anala's birth mother was a young woman who had agreed, along with the consent of her parents, to be a surrogate for a couple that they had met, who could not have their own child. It was reported that the couple had been trying to have a child for some time and that the husband was on the verge of leaving her (because it was her fault of course). It was at that point that the wife came up with the idea of a surrogate after which they found the young woman. How the media got this personal information (supposedly) is anyone's guess.

Well Anala's birth mother delivers the baby and panicks when the adoptive couple doesn't arrive quickly enough (they lived in another city). So she leaves the baby on the banks of the lake and leaves.

The media tracked the birth mother down and not surprisingly she was very closed about the situation. She said that she had never planned to parent and was happy that the baby had been taken in by a NGO. She wouldn't disclose who the father was or how much money she had received. The media hinted that the husband was the father (meaning there was no in-vitro involved!). I don't know if that is true.

Shortly after Anala's birth the husband came to Odanadi to collect her. When he was told that there was a legal process involved to adopt her, he left and was never heard from again.

I asked whether Anala would ever be privy to the circumstances of her birth when she was older and was told that if it is felt that she can handle the information, then yes. She will see a picture of her birth mother on file (I still don't know how they got it) and read newspaper articles, some focusing on the surrogacy issue, and others on the people involved. Until then, all she knows is that she has no parents. But of course we all know that she does.

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There are 2 other girls that I want to highlight; both were at Odanadi for only a couple days during which I spent a bit of time with them.

The first young woman had lived at Odanadi for 7 years due to being orphaned. Just shy of graduating from college she fell in love and ran off with a guy despite Stanly encouraging her to at least stay until she finished her education. They moved to Bangalore, got married and had a son. It has been several years since she left.

She recently came back not to visit, but to get some information from Stanly about how to get a divorce. While waiting for him to arrive, she sat with me and told me her story. She was very eager to talk and spoke very good English which was a treat.

She explained that shortly after she got married, her husband started to drink and beat her. She showed me scars on her head and arms, and they were nasty. When I asked if his family knew what he was doing to her as they lived together, she said that he beat them too. She cried, telling me that her life was ruined, but that her son's was not. She was focused on him getting a good education and was saving a significant amount for him to go to an English medium school (which means that he is taught primarily in English which is huge in India). She didn't want to go to the police to file a case against her husband because she knew that they would beat him and put him in jail. She didn't believe in violence and didn't want to put him behind bars. Instead she simply wanted to divorce her husband and parent on her own but didn't know how to go about it which was why she had come. She was struggling with what to do, feeling that without parents life on her own would be hard. She had an uncle in Mangalore but didn't want to move there. She had been given the option of bringing her son and coming back to live at Odanadi but didn't want to do that, feeling that people would talk about her and that she would be a failure.

The conversation turned into a type of counselling session which was refreshing given she could speak great English and understand what I was saying to her as well. I told her over and over that her life wasn't over; that she was young, had an education, job, support from Odanadi and that with these skills and supports she could make a new life for her and her son. We talked about the negative influence of her son witnessing the violence, which she was able to say she didn't want for him. He was about 2 and the cutest thing; but a bit of a hellion. After we were done talking and she started talking to one of the residents, in true Crystal fashion I left as he was making too much noise :)

Well the next day the husband showed up in hopes of saving his marriage. The couple had a session with Stanly during which the husband cried and promised that he wouldn't abuse her anymore. She must have accepted that as they left together that day and I never saw her again.

Stanly, one of the directors

Stanly was quite bothered by her return and hearing how the marriage had faired especially given how hard he had tried to get her to stay and finish college. He was also unhappy with her choice in partner, saying that her husband had no education and was an alcoholic like his parents. Stanly also told me further details about the abuse by the husband, including that he had taken pliers to her breasts. It's ironic, as I had just been trying to explain to one of the counsellors that in English we don't use the word "torture" to mean physical abuse as I was finding that they used that word for everything i.e. she received a lot of torture from her in-laws. Well in this case I think it is safe to say that there was some torture going on and I can only hope that the husband sticks to his promise and/or she leaves him for good.

A few days later another young woman showed up. Her name was Bagya, from a village nearby, in her 20s and quite pretty. She had arrived on the weekend and Monday morning I was having my first manicure class which she joined. She was thrilled with the experience you could tell, and happliy posed for pictures with her hands painted 2 seperate colours. Perhaps she couldn't decide between red and purple but it really wasn't a good look :)



Two colours isn't my style but he loooved it!

After the class I went downstairs and heard a lot of yelling in the counsellor's room. The husband had arrived along with some of his family as well as hers. The husband had been drinking that day and a shouting match ensued between him and the counsellor about his treatment of his wife. Bagya stood outisde the room listening with tears in her eyes. I stood with her and she told me in simple words, gestures, along with my few words in Kannada, that 3 months after she had married he had started to abuse her. The marriage had been arranged and it was his second. His first wife had died of a snake bite (but was it really from a snake bite? Detective Moshenko was already thinking!) and he was older than her by quite a few years.

Bagya also showed me scars that she had from her husband and they were from some type of knife. I kept her company until she was called into the room and didn't see her again. I learned afer that she had left to stay with her sister. The plan was that she would stay there until the village committee met and dicusssed the issue. I was told by the counsellor that the husband had taken no responsibility for his treatment of Bagya, which is not a good sign for her. I don't know what happened after that.

That day I left Odanadi feeling so depressed. Seeing the physical evidence of such extreme abuse on two women in less than a week was just too much. I couldn't help but wonder if this was the destiny of women here; to be abused by their husbands. Some time before I had attended a presentation by Stanly duing which he talked about women being considered second class citizens in India, that men are taught that they need to control their wives and are not men if they don't. It is expected and accepted that a husband can and will use violence to keep his wife in line.

Now I don't want to present that I believe that all of the women in India are abused or that all men think and behave this way. Because that is simply not the case. The more educated, cultured, metropolitan the couple is, the less likely these views or behaviour I am sure. Those less educated and living in rural villages would be more likely to have these values and behaviour. Stanly said that even with this demographic though things are changing. Women apparently are taking less abuse and approaching organizations like Odanadi for help.

An interesting thing happened after this. I was talking with the counsellor about this issue who happens to have a Masters in Psychology but is from a village and traditional family. She will likely get married in a couple years. Her parents are currently trying to marry off her older sister first. Both marriages will be arranged which she accepts and has no issue with. So I asked her what she would do if her husband started beating her? She said that she would try and talk to him, about the need to respect eachother, communicate yada yada. Essentially she would try and reason with him over time, even if it continued, and would not leave. I was shocked! This is from an educated woman; a counsellor of women who are coming in after experiencing horrible abuse! What kind of message are they getting? I couldn't believe it.

Then, if that wasn't enough, on the way home, Nino and I strolled around the village near Odanadi. We came across an old man, probably in his 60s, yelling and slapping around an old fragile, blind woman who was sitting against the house doing nothing to bother him. We found out from a passerby that she was his mother. We stood there seeing this, horrified. Nino yelled at him and he stopped, following which we slowly started to go. He then went back and continued to yell, slap and push her. It was so horrible to see. Nino yelled again and he stopped. We stood and stared him down and I wanted to go over and do the same thing to him that he was doing to his mother. Feeling like he had stopped for good (well sadly, at least this time) we continued, me even more dejected at what I had been hearing and witnessing. But it was nothing compared to what these women are experiencing.

And then after all that something lovely happened. We were walking out of the village when Nino and I saw a celebration going on at a house. There were awnings over the roof and doorway which were a dead giveaway. So Nino asked some men walking by what it was, and they responded by with a couple words which helped us understand it was some kind of housewarming followed by the word "come" and an escort to the house! I was embarrassed at the thought of crashing the party so was saying "no no that's ok" but they insisted so away we went right to the doorstep of the house where all these people were gathered in celebration. A housewarming is similar to the sugar cane factory function in the sense that there is a pooja, or blessing of the house, people come to congratulate then and enjoy great food and sweets.

The family took no issue with having two backpack carrying white folks show up and in true Indian fashion enthusiastically invited us in for a tour. The house was big and beautiful with bright colours. The girls were in their party dresses and of course were thrilled to see us. The women were in beautiful sarees, men in dress clothes, people were sitting around eating and chatting, and it was simply a lovely scene. No sooner did we arrive than sweets, bananas and snacks were placed in our hands despite our polite declines (I even tried "beda" which means "I don't want" in Kannada but that didn't work at all). So we ate, chatted, took pictures and then went on our way. It was such a lovely experience and an example of not only the amazingly rich culture and customs of India, but also of how welcoming, generous and hospitable they are. I have had such amazing experiences because of these Indian attributes and for this reason I always say that Indian hospitality is number one in the world. When people ask me why I keep returning to India, this is one of the main reasons. The people are simply lovely.

So not to minimize the violence and social issues that I was struggling with earlier that day, but the housewarming experience not only lifted my spirits, but displayed the wonderful aspects of Indian culture and people, reminding me that it isn't all doom and gloom. And with that, this not so Debbie Downer will sign off :)

TG

Well, there is another staff/sex worker that I like a lot, and who has made my experience at Aastha Parivaar. Her name is Vasavi and she is transgendered; physiologically born male but psychologically a female. Vasavi was elected President of Aastha Parivaar so is da Boss!

She's tall and has solid features, long hair of course, and doesn't wear much makeup. She doesn't need to; her skin is flawless and I think she is quite pretty. We hit it off right from the get-go (we would totally be friends if we were in the same country) and to be honest I am quite taken with her. She speaks enough English to have a conversation and actually has a BCom degree. She also has a Facebook account :) Now doesn't that just dispel any stereotypes you might have of a sex worker! I just love her personality and mannerisms. She's quite a diva, animated and her facial expressions kill me. Such as her whiny pout when talking about living in the slums, or about my short hair hahaha! She just doesn't understand why I don't have long hair (like the rest of India). Or her OMG gasps of surprise when I tell her something, and high fives when we share something funny.

Vasavi lives in the slums and her home is a 2 hour commute to the office by train, walking and rickshaw. So she doesn't like having to come into the office and actually doesn't like having the job as president as she says it's too much work for her. I bugged her about that, like what else does she have to do but eat, watch soap operas and gossip with her friends? She thought that was funny but I'm not allowed to make those comments on Facebook as she wants to keep the fact that she's lazy on the DL.

She lives with several other transgenders, who are referred to as "TG" and has a Guru, who is also TG and the head of her TG group, like a spiritual leader. I want to learn more about the TG community as I hear it is highly hierarchical and that the TGs do nothing without their Guru's approval. Vasavi described her Guru with much affection, telling me she is like family; like a mother. Her Guru is apparently quite rich from working hard in dance bars and such when she was younger. Vasavi only gives her Guru money once in awhile and describes her as very nice (with the head roll of course) as her Guru doesn't beat her like others do.

Vasavi receives a salary of 9000 rupees every month through her other role within her CBO. She goes to bars on weekends and earns some extra cash through sex work. She told me that TGs earn 100-200 rupees per client ($2-4).

During our time together we talked about how her CBO can earn money which they need in order to support their members (about 50). They have been given 100,000 condoms from Aastha Parivaar which they can sell for 1-2 rupees but they are without a market given there is a NGO in their community giving them out for free. So she wanted me to help her try and find a market for condom sales. Like I would know anything about that! If any of you have any ideas hit me up :)

What was cute was that she told me that the TGs are lazy and don't want to work for a few rupees profit (such as by selling condoms), especially when they can make fast money through sex work. So this is the challenge in her CBO; motivating the members to puruse an enterprise for the benefit of the community and themselves as individuals. She is embarassed that other CBOs are earning way more money than hers.

What is also interesting is that Vasavi is married. She was in a relationship with a man for 4 years until he married another woman. The other wife is not transgendered and the couple are expecting their first child. They live in Gujurat and she only gets to see her husband for a few days every 3 months (which again brought on the pouty face). She and her husband talk on the phone, and she talks with his wife as well (who knows about her) as friends would.

I'm not sure if Vasavi has had surgery. Castration is an option, which according to a newspaper article I just read, Gurus often decide for the TG. The opinion in the paper is that the TG should be the one to make the decision after proper counselling. Geez, no Shit Sherlock! Vasavi told me that her sister (fellow TG) just got breast implants at a cost of 60,000 rupees ($1200). That is every TG's dream to not have to stuff their bra. Vasavi's sister called while we were talking and asked her to pick her up a sports bra. She asked me what a sports bra was and how much it would cost. Just like with the condoms, I was useless to her in this department as well not knowing how much they go for here. Anyway, it would have been fun to go bra shopping with her!

You may be wondering why Vasavi is still doing sex work with a BCom degree. Well, as in other countries transgendered people sadly are quite discriminated against and find it pretty impossible to find employment, often forcing them into sex work. I saw in the newspaper a couple months back that the government has passed some type of Bill to hire TGs as a special group. I'm not sure how that will translate to the general TG population, but thankfully at least Vasavi is doing quite well for herself given her involvement and role with Aastha Parivaar. We'll see how long she hangs in with the president role though and whether the laziness will win.

Sandya and the Red Ribbon Express

I haven't blogged for days..not that there haven't been interesting things; things that I've read or seen, but I've been lacking inspiration I suppose. Well today was different. For the last couple of weeks I have been spending time at a NGO called Aastha Parivaar. I've posted a link on Facebook and encourage you to take a look. It's a NGO made up of sex workers for the benefit of sex workers. I wasn't sure what I could do for them while there, but knew that I wanted to be apart of the organization and learn more about it.

To be honest it hasn't been that exciting as in all fairness they have their own work to do, and really there isn't much I can do for them short of some writing, such as proposals. But to do that one needs to have a good understanding of what they do and need. The plan was for me to visit some of their 14 Community Based Organizations (CBO) but so far I'd only been to one. 

Anyway, one of the staff had promised to take me to a CBO today. Sandya is her name and I've liked her from the get-go. She is 52, with thick glasses and a boisterous voice. The day I met her I could tell that she knew some English and so between that and her strong personality, which was evident when I met her, I had hoped to be able to spend some time with her.

Well I just love this woman! I think part of it is her thick glasses; it's just so endearing to me. But more so, it's her confidence. When she speaks English you can just feel the pride within her; that it makes her feel so good. She speaks with authority, conviction, and I just love that. The day before I sat in on a Spoken English class that has just started for sex workers. And she was the star of the class; like that kid in class that knows it all and answers all the questions. I actually wondered if she has hearing issues given how loudly she spoke, but I'm sure its just her confidence and eagerness to learn. At one point she was asked to spell Wednesday and ripped through it so fast to prove her abilities; I just had to laugh!

So today she took me to the CST train station which is the biggest train terminal in Mumbai, and a beautiful building which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. At the terminal was the "Red Ribbon Express," a train that travels all around India with information about HIV/AIDS. It also offers HIV testing and counselling. It is only in Mumbai for a few days after which it will head off somewhere else.

It was a big event with lots of people and many NGOs there with information on their organization. Sandya's CBO, the Women's Welfare Society, had a table there selling some of the products that they make in order to support the organization and its members. I met many staff from the Women's Welfare Society, most of whom are sex workers, and of course bought some of their chocolate (which is delicious) and then cued forever and a day to get into the train. Once inside there was car after car of information about HIV/AIDS with high tech technology and tons of staff to provide information. Unfortunately all of the information was in Hindi so I couldn't understand any of it, but nevertheless it was an impressive and innovative venture which is reaching tons of people in India. I couldn't believe how many people were passing through which is great for the passing on of such important information.

After that Sandya and I sat, had lunch and chatted. Sandya insisted that I have a box lunch that was provided for the NGOs, despite there not being enough for all the members. Another example of incredible Indian hospitality. I was very uncomfortable with taking the lunch but there was no option of not. Thankfully more lunch boxes were arranged and everybody got to eat. Anyway while we sat many people stopped to chat with Sandya (and by default, me). One was the Director of the organization that had arranged the whole event; quite a Big Wig. He apparently noticed the only white girl in the crowd and came over to ask where I was from and who I was there with. It was a nice plug for Aastha Parivaar given his organization funds some of their capacity building projects. It was also very exciting for Sandya who kept going on about how much of a Big Wig he was, and telling everybody she met that he had stopped to talk to me. There was a lot of head rolling going on which meant she was pretty happy and impressed. It was cute!

As we sat and chatted I learnt more about her and the sex workers. I had noticed that all of the members manning the table were older and asked if they were still doing sex work. I was surprised when she said yes, given some of them looked like they were in their 40s and 50s. Although of course when you've had a hard life you look a lot older so I wouldn't be surprised if they were a decade younger than I thought. Anyway, Sandya explained that these women would most likely be paid to go to a movie with a client, 150-200 rupees, and that during the movie they would provide "safe sex or hand sex" as she called it.

She told me that she had not been doing sex work since 2004, which is when she joined one of the CBOs. She started as a volunteer and has worked her way up to not only being President of her CBO (which is non-paid) but also a representative of Aastha Parivaar which sits on various committees in the field. She gets paid 8000 rupees (over $150) per month as part of this job. After working in the field for 8 years she is now well known and highly respected. You can tell she is very engaged with the cause and a hard worker. Apart from the CBO and Aastha Parivaar work, she makes chocolates, perfume, is learning English, and taking a baking course this month. She is super eager to learn and plans to pass on the skills she learns to other girls. More head rolling came when I asked her if she likes English. Like is actually an understatement as she clearly loves it, and does pretty well too. I can't say enough about this lady. When she smiles, with those glasses, or when she speaks up with that boisterous voice of hers, it just warms my heart.

While I was there we also met a couple young girls (in their early 20s I would say) who are members of the CBO and active sex workers that work in and around the train station. I was sad to hear that they both live and work there. Can you imagine your home being a train platform? She told me that one of the girls had lived in a NGO until age 17 when she left and started doing sex work. She is now 21. Sandya brought her home for a month in hopes of getting her working and taking her away from sex work, but she went back to the platform. I asked her why she thought that was and she felt it was because the girl was in love with a guy who also lived on the platform. She was more into him and a lifestyle of smoking and drinking. Sandya has brought many girls to her home; however, only one has actually left sex work. She is now selling things on a train in Delhi.

I asked her why these girls wouldn't go do brothel work where they would have a roof over their head. She said that in a brothel they get only 50-70 rupees per client ($1-1.5) and half goes to the Madam. So the pay is little and they don't get most of it. Working on their own they might get 200-500 per client (plus the client has to pay for the lodge/hotel). So clearly it's better for them on the platform. Sandya also said that the girls have a lot of tension (they use this word all the time instead of stress and I love it!) because the police have been raided all the dance bars where many of them work. That leaves them with less clients and of course less money. And sure enough, as I was reading the paper later that day, there was an article about all the dance bars that the police were raiding and shutting down in the city. Bars were closing as well before the police could raid. Bar owners had gone as far as to have secret compartments where they would hide the girls if the bouncers spotted police. A button would signal those in the back to usher the girls inside. Like a movie eh!

We of course talked about HIV/AIDS as well given that was why the whole event was happening. Sandya told me that 65 members of her CBO are HIV positive. She herself is lucky not to be positive given that back when she was working nobody knew about HIV or condom use. Aastha Parivaar hopes to be able to build a home for elderlyHIV positive women in the future which I would love to see. In the meantime some of the money that the CBOs raise goes to the didis (sisters) who might need help and have nobody i.e. if they need an operation. By the end of the conversation I had a better understanding of the role of the CBOs; it really is a sisterhood/support network for these women. And thankfully those couple of young sex workers that we met are apart of it. The CBO will keep track of them and help them if need be. Thank goodness somebody is.

I will end this post with something really touching that happended while we were sitting there. I had been talking with a staff of another NGO and noticed another man kind of hanging around. I thought they were together. After the staff left the other man came a bit closer so I said hi. He was maybe late 20s and quite dirty; potentially homeless. He had a paper in his hand which he held out to show me. At first I thought it was something asking for money which is pretty common in SE Asia. I looked closer and noticed that it was the result of his HIV test!  He had been on the train and been tested. The paper said that he was negative. I smiled, gave him a thumbs up, and clapped; all that I could do to get the message across how happy I was with his result. As he stood there and smiled I asked Sandya to tell him that I was happy that he had gone and got tested and that he was negative. He continued to smile and then went on his way. I was so touched by that experience, my eyes welled up.

What a great program this travelling train is, reaching all walks of life all over the country. I hope that this man not only got tested, but also took something from the information that was shared on the train. Let's hope that this train reaches millions more.

Pay and Use

One of the things that causes foreigners the most anxiety in India are the toilets. I'm going to go into that subject in another post that I am working on, but in the meantime wanted to blog about my experience today.

So I am walking along Chowpatty Beach, Mumbai's famous beach which in the evening comes alive with tons of people, food vendors and hawkers selling all kinds of crap like you'd find at the Swan Valley Rodeo. During the day it is a beautiful and endless promenade along the ocean. No swimming though as the water is too rank.

So I am waking along, it's so hot and I have to go to the bathroom. I may be alone, but one of the things I enjoy about India is that there are Pay and Use toilets everywhere. You pay 2 rupees and away you go. I've always found them to be quite clean and not an unpleasant experience. Well the one I came across today was a little different. I've mentioned that Mumbai has over 18 million people. That's a lot of people! And thousands and thousands, perhaps millions even, I don't know, are homeless and/or do not have running water. So they use these Pay and Use toilets for everything: bathing, washing clothes, and perhaps even going to the toilet while they are there. I say that because I'm pretty sure that the poorest of the poor don't pay 2 rupees just to use the toilet. Instead they just go wherever, which unfortunately you can see and/or smell at times. But bathing and washing clothes are more worthy of those precious 2 rupees.

So I see the Pay and Use and I think GREAT! Because it's always a stressor when you have to go and you don't know if you'll find a place. Well, I walk up to pay and see men half naked in their ol' bikini briefs (which by the way is not a good look for men when they are wearing tight pants..it's why thongs were created for women) bathing on the men's side on the left. Kids are coming in and out naked. I pay and naively walk into the women's side on the right which looks like the inside of a car wash, with naked women and children bathing and washing clothes. Clothes are strung up everywhere, there are basins full of clothes and water and suds flowing all around. I kind of stand there taking it all in, and I mean all of it (certainly more than I ever wanted to see), until an older, naked woman motions for me to go into one of the open stalls. I succumb to the pressure and start to go in (in my flip flops) but there is A LOT of water and suds, so I start to retreat to dry safety. Then she motions again for me to go in..so I relent and with great care splish and splash over to the stall as everyone sloshes around doing their thing.

I go into my stall which is a squat toilet (which I normally prefer) and as I stand facing the door, water and suds from their activities are flowing under the door back at me and into the toilet. Usually you pour a bit of water into the squat after going, but there certainly was no need for that. It was so wet and as you can imagine I didn't leave dry.

And as I carefully stepped out of the "Chamois Car Wash" amongst the nakedness, and with my wet feet, I thought, boy it sure would be great to have a disinfecting wipe right about now. And at that moment I sure missed you Kelly, as I know you would've come through for me :)

And as I sit here in an air conditioned McDonalds I feel my feet tingling and hope it's not some type of infection festering. Next stop, to the store to buy some wipes. Cuz Mumbai is a place where you have to expect anything, and next time I'm gonna be prepared!

Train training

Before coming to Mumbai, Sanjeev's brother Subu explained to me with amusement that when you take a train in Mumbai you don't have to do anything but stand in front of the door and people will push you in, and push you out.

On the first day in Mumbai, Shiva and I took the bus everywhere as he wanted me to get used to them. After experiencing as much as 1.5 hour trips throughout the city, the following day the plan changed to tackling the trains. The "program" for that day was to head from where we were staying in North Mumbai, to South Mumbai where I would be volunteering, to look for a place for me to stay.

Once at the train station the plan was that I would go into the women's car, while Shiva would go into the men's (as the women's cars are less crowded and I would have a better chance of getting on) and we would meet at our destination, which easily enough was the last stop. Shiva prepared himself for battle (short of doing some warm up exercises), giving me his money in case of pickpocketing which is common on a crowded train, and a package he had been carrying so that both of his hands would be free. He did this because the women's cars were typically less crowded.

As we waited for the train the crowd began to get bigger and bigger (have I mentioned that Mumbai has more than 18 million people?) and I started to have the feeling I had when I had to run to get the ticket for the animal reserve. I needed to get a spot in this car! So the train pulls up, I spot a door and make a dash for it. There wasn't much dashing involved though as it was already full with barely a few spare inches for me. But I made my way in, or rather I was pushed in as Subu had forewarned, to, brace yourselves..the entrance of the door! I hung on to my place, half in, half out of the train while pure madness went on all around me. Women behind me were pushing to get in and those on the inside were being jostled and trampled including a fragile old woman who sadly was amongst the chaos. This went on for what seemed liked minutes, although it was probably less than one, and then the train was off with me holding on for dear life.

I eventually noticed that on one side of the door there was a line of women facing the way out, clearly getting off soon. I was in their way, facing them. One girl asked me where I was getting off and when I told her the last stop, she said "go inside." I kind of chuckled and said "where?" There was absolutely no room to manouver anywhere. Again she said "go inside" and somehow, someway, the heavens parted and I jostled my way into the actual car. Inside it was less crowded and quite the sight with tons of steel hand rails on the ceiling. I couldn't believe how many there were! It was testament to how many more human beings could and do fit into that car. After I made it in it was pretty smooth sailing from there. I actually even got to sit for awhile. But I have to admit that after those chaotic first couple of minutes I got thinking that maybe a month was a little too long to stay in Mumbai (like 3 weeks too long!). Perhaps I would need to come up with a different plan..

Once off I met up with Shiva and we compared battle stories. He told me with certainty that I would never have got into the men's car. It was simply too crowded. I was impressed with his train skills until sometime after when I noticed that he had sent me an "are you ok?" text while on the train. Made me wonder how he could have managed that if it was as crowded as he had made me believe :)

So we went on with our day which focused on finding me a place to stay. Shiva was very concerned about this and wanted to make sure I had a good place before he left that night. This man is Salt of the Earth I tell you! Thanks to the Lonely Planet AKA Gringo Bible as my friend David calls it, I found a place in Colaba which is close to the ocean and tourist attractions, and with a lot of foreigners which made me feel comfortable given it will be safer after dark. Plus, the area is an example of why I like Mumbai; it is a nice blend of modern, and real India, with a cinema close by, McDs, stores like The Body Shop, United Colours of Benetton etc. and the great local stuff as well like cheap restaurants, fruit stands etc. So I felt good about the hotel, area and experiencing a contrast from the Indian-only suburb that that I had lived in in Mysore.

On the way back we first tried for a bus but waited forever and one didn't come. So the plan changed to first a bus, then walk followed by a train. Boy did I get some exercise keeping up with Shiva who was in a rush to catch his overnight train. I was stretching those legs but was still steps behind. It reminded me of when I would walk with my mom when I was younger, trailing behind her which would annoy her. She would say "are you going to walk with me or behind me?!" Some things never change...

So we get to the train station and prepare again to board. This time the plan was for us to travel together (in a men's car) given that the train would be empty as it was just starting out. I was relieved to have him with me for support after the morning ride! The train approached and we dashed into a car. I made it in first, then heard Shiva yell at me to go to the right. So I raced over, skidding and throwing myself down onto a seat while a bunch of men were doing the same thing. And then as quickly as the chaos had started all was calm again as the goal had been accomplished; seats by the window/cool breeze. Then all there was to do was watch the poor saps that got on after and had to stand. I couldn't help but laugh at how crazy the event was; it felt like that tuk tuk race all over again! And yet this is just survival in Mumbai..

We sat and relaxed as the train continued, but then the train car started to fill up and as the number of people increased, so did my anxiety. I started to realize that at some point we would have to get out, and as the only woman in the car I was sure to get molested as is common in India, hence the segregated cars. Shiva told me not to worry that he would be behind me shielding the way but I knew that wouldn't work as he needed to plow the way through for the both of us. I was nervous, not gonna lie, about being able to get through the crowd in time to get off, and secondly not being manhandled in the process. I giggled nervously explaining to Shiva what FML meant as this surely was one of those moments!

By this time the car was jam packed with no room to move; men with their arms up holding hand rails all over the place. Let's just say that summer on a Mumbai train isn't the best smelling environment I've been in. As our stop approached I reluctantly got up, and we slowly inched our way out. As we did I kept turning my head trying to see all those around me, and making eye contact as if to say "touch me and you're dead!" At one point I saw a man near me who had been staring at me intensely the whole time on the train. He was in pinching distance and I could just see that burning desire to seize the opportunity, but I smiled at him, he smiled back and I slithered out like a cobra, without one touch, pinch or grab. It was a miracle!!!! Once safely outside I clapped and pumped my fists in celebration of my accomplishment!

Nevertheless, I think I'll still try take the bus from now on   :)

Bombay Brothels

After one last day in Bangalore with Sanjeev's family I was off to Mumbai to try and find a new volunteer project. Shiva was meeting me there to make it happen given all of his connections. It was sad to say goodbye to the Reddys after getting to know them over the months. Their hospitality was incredible and I now have some more new friends to visit on my next trip :)

I left their house early to have plenty of time to explore the new, fancy Bangalore airport. I had a lovely time there (strange I know, but I love a good airport with nice shops to peruse, good coffee places etc). Shiva insisted on picking me up at the airport in Mumbai so nobody would snatch me, and I have to say it's the greatest feeling to meet a friend in another country. Meeting Corrine in Bangkok and seeing Renato in Peru were great moments for me. But enough about airports..Once in Mumbai we went to stay at a student hostel at an institute where Shiva used to study, I think in the 70s. It brought me back to my' University College days :)

Shiva's "program" as they like to call it in India, started at 9 the next morning. He wanted to get me used to taking the local bus, so as the locals do, we ran to catch it and then spent the next 1.5 hours travelling from the North of Mumbai to the South. Our first stop was the office of Aastha Parivaar, an organization of and for sex workers. Shiva knew of this organization through his work with KHPT and that they did the type of work that I was interested in. We were warmly greeted by the staff and received a presentation on what they did.

AP as I will refer to it, is an umbrella organization providing leadership and support to 14 Community Based Organizations (CBOs) which provide support and services to all types of sex workers (meaning brothel, street, lodge, home etc, and including women, men, and transgendered). They distribute condoms, educate/counsel re: HIV, do STI screening, teach other skills to supplement their income, respond to crisis situations, run self help groups etc. The CBOs are all run by sex workers and elected representatives from each make up the AP Board, which directs the activities of the whole organization. Their annual fundraising event involves big stars in India, they've just published a book of women's stories for sale, make products such as homemade chocolates and makeup, and even have their own brand of condoms (can you believe that?!)

Maybe this is too much info but the women weren't happy with the condoms that AP used to distribute which led to AP creating their own. For one they wanted packaging that looked more like a shampoo packet (in India you don't have to buy a big bottle of shampoo and instead can buy packets of shampoo for a couple rupees which is great when you have little money). So the new condoms look more like these packets and now cost them 2 rupees each. They also wanted something with extra lubrication and in flavours; their favourite being paan flavour which is the nasty bettel leaf that they all chew and love. If you saw a Facebook picture of me with a turned up face after trying it, that's it, but it is hugely popular here. But anyway the interesting thing is that the sex workers directed what they wanted and AP created a product which the sex workers are more likely to use, which will prevent HIV. I was impressed by this organization and knew I wanted to be apart of it. Thankfully they were open to it, despite never having international volunteers before, and the plan was for me to start after the weekend. So easy to arrange and I was thrilled! Once again it was thanks to Shiva, my hero!

After lunch we headed to Kamathipura, Mumbai's famous brothel area. I didn't realize that we were actually in it until Shiva pointed out that essentially every building on the street was a brothel. The area is old, very poor, the streets cluttered and dirty and the buildings, some up to 8 storeys high, in poor shape. You couldn't even imagine that people lived in them, but the clothes hanging outside was evidence that they did.

First we walked down the narrow crowded streets looking for the brothel of a woman Shiva knew from a former project. There were cots outside of the brothels which either men or women lounged/slept on basically in the middle of the street. The men weren't customers but rather security I gather.

We easily found the brothel we were looking for and before I knew it we were in one! Like the others it was a very old building with a very narrow and dark entrance and stone/dirt floor. Inside we found a small, narrow room, which had a "kitchen" on the left and bathroom at the back, which was all cement and pretty primitive looking. On the left of the room were what I would describe as "cubbies." Suspended off the floor were these 4 cubbies which had sliding doors, and were about 5-6 ft long by about 3 ft wide. The whole area was covered with a thin matress and pillow, and the wall had a little cabinet with toiletries and such, and the other wall some clothes. And in this tiny space where women both live and bring their clients, I sat and hung out while Shiva talked with the "Madam" of the brothel, a woman in her 40s I would guess, who was from the same village as him and again whom he had known from years back through one of the projects he had done through KHPT. He hadn't seen her for about 6 years but she remembered him and greeted us happily. Her aunt was there visiting as well along with 2 young boys. One of the boys was especially somber looking until I passed around some chocolates (which I had bought at AP and been made by the sex workers), after which he temporarily came alive, with a huge smile that lasted until the chocolate was gone. I couldn't help but wonder what circumstances he came from; was his mother a sex worker as well? Did he know that he was in a brothel and what that meant?

I scoured the room, trying to observe every little thing as Shiva talked with the women. He translated some of what they were saying including that business was down which the Madam believed was due to men not wanting to come to the brothels like before as they are scared of AIDS. Before we got there Shiva had told me that Kamantipur used to have around 50,000 sex workers whereas now there is only about 10-15,000. That number is still incredible. The Madam shared that the girls would now go and hang around places like the bus station and pick up clients there without letting on that they are brothel workers. If the client was well off they would go to a lodge (hotel) and if not she would say she has a friend's place that she could use. She would then bring them back to the brothel and rent out the cubby for a short time. So the Madam makes some money this way on top of the 4 girls she has working for her. She gets 50% of their earnings and Shiva estimated that she would make about 20,000 rupees ($400) per month (that's a guess though). But again the Madam said business is poor. Shiva encouraged her to not bring her own daughter to work and instead to let her stay in the village to finish her school. The Madam said that was her plan although I wasn't sure if it was because business was poor, or whether she just didn't want that for her daughter.

That's how the Madam gets her girls; she brings them from her village to work; picking the fair, pretty, and young ones. She offers money to the girl/their family which they can't refuse. These girls aren't trafficked in the true sense (held against their will), and rather the Madam takes good care of them otherwise she would risk not being able to get future girls from her village.

As we were talking a couple of young, pretty sex workers came down from their rooms on the second floor to visit with us. There was no vibe of fear from them and they presented as friends to the Madam, and as if we were in their home. One of the girls was very smiley, and very interested in me. She told Shiva a couple times that she should put some makeup on me and take me out as she thought the men would like me. Nice offer but no thanks. I jokingly asked the Madam how much she charged for a "room" given that I was looking for a place to stay :) and was told 4000 rupees per month ($80). Shiva then joked that she could likely make more money than that from me if I were staying there as I'd be popular. They had a good laugh at the joke, including the little boy which made me uncomfortable. When I pointed out that the boy was privy to this adult conversation Shiva explained that the kids that grow up in this area all know what their mothers, aunts, sisters and so on are doing. Some families actually use them to earn a little extra. For example the customer will pay the kid to scram if he wants to have some privacy with the sex worker. So my question from earlier was answered; the children know. What an unbelievable reality some kids live in.

After a short time the two younger girls left. The one girl said someone had called her. We knew that she was going out to work and sure enough as we left she was hanging out on the street pretending not to live and work in a brothel I suppose. I didn't take any pictures while we were in the brothel as I felt bad asking. Shiva said after that was silly as he knew the Madam and it wouldn't have been a problem. Then I was kicking myself as I could have shared the experience with all of you.

So while we were visiting, an outreach worker from another NGO came by. This was another organization that Shiva had suggested I could work with. So when the outreach worker said she wanted to take us back to her office, we went with her. On the way we met several of their outreach workers; most of whom are peer counsellors; that is active sex workers that work for the organization. As we walked I observed with fascination and disbelief, street after street, building after building; everyplace was either a brothel or affiliated in some way with one. The outreach worker pointed out streets which primarily had girls from Bangladesh or West Bengal, two areas where more girls are coming from these days. Many girls were lingering around outside (clearly sex workers), and when you saw men, you couldn't help but think of them as customers. It is highly unlikely living in an area of brothels that these men would not be taking part.

We arrived at the NGO and sat and waited for the board members to show up. Shiva had called yet another contact who arranged for them to come. The President, Vice and so on, all former sex workers (they are now in their 40s and 50s) met with us and the organization`s mandate was explained. Like AP it is primarily about health, and preventing HIV. But they also provide support, advocacy and other services to 3000 sex workers in 2 areas. I asked whether they were able to get access to all the brothels and were told that yes, unless there were underage sex workers, or trafficked girls, as not surprisingly they wouldn`t be out in the open. Instead these girls are in bungalows (hotel rooms) and out of the way. If they come across a girl who wants to escape, they will try and help her, but do not report it to police as it would not only jeopardize the organization`s relationship in the community; but the police are typically allowing it to happen, being paid to look the other way so to speak. `Hafta` it`s called, when the brothels pay police to leave them alone. Imagine that. If you can't even count on the police to protect you then who is going to?

Shiva offered these folks my services such as assisting with proposal writing, policies and such. If they call I will be more than happy to help them, but otherwise didn't see this organization as an option for me. It seemed quite lax, unorganized and there was little English. Shiva agreed that AP was a far better option.

So one of the members was from around where Shiva is from so they had an instant connection. He asked her if we could come and see her home to which she said (through him), that if we come we have to stay at least the night; that she has a very big house. I laughed it off, not knowing whether she was serious or not, but away we went, walking back through Kamantipur to her home. On the way back we ended up sitting with some women sitting outside of the cots that I already spoke of. Shiva wanted me to take some pictures knowing that they would like to see their picture. And they did. One woman was proudly showing a picture of her own; a picture of a nice house that she had built for her family in her village. Shiva had told me previously that a lot of the money that these women make from sex work gets sent back to their family, and that to build a nice house brings with it prestige. It makes what they had to do for it worthwhile in their eyes.

We also went into another building, up several flights of stairs to the room of another board member who Shiva knew. On the way up the narrow, rickety stairs, on each floor we could see rooms filled with women, just sitting and waiting. The woman didn't answer her door; she could have been with a customer, we didn't know, but down we went again, seeing those woman for a second time.

We eventually arrived at the board member's home which I would describe as a closet. Honestly, a concrete closet where she, her 20 year old daughter Lakshmi, and her 3 year old granddaughter live. I have never seen a living space so small and was shocked to hear that they have lived in this room for over 25 years. I can't see 3 people being able to sleep there. She told us that when she moved in it had cost only 25 rupees per month and now she pays 2500, although gets a discount due to having lived there so long. Back in the day they didn't have a fan, water or bathroom but now have these "amenities."

As we sat and talked in the hallway, neighbours were all around; one woman, Lakshmi's best friend Pinky, cooked for her family on a hot plate and later washed the dishes beside us. Another older woman cooked inside her room which was noticeable by the fire she had made. Another elderly ex sex worker/board member showed off her room, another concrete closet that she lived in alone. I took some pictures which they enjoyed seeing, and passed around some of the AP chocolates. I imagine that it's not everyday a foreigner comes to visit, and they were all very welcoming.

The board member had been a Devadasi, meaning Servant to God, which I've talked about before. Essentially she was initiated into sex worker at 15 which is when she came to Bombay and has never left. She doesn't know her exact age but said 40-45 and cried some as she talked about her life. She pulled out pictures of her adult son who had died a couple years back. She told us that he had died of TB but Shiva suspected it was likely HIV given the brothel environment he had grown up in. She is now caring for his daughter while a sibling is with the mother. She also showed us pictures of her longtime partner, Lakshmi's father, who had also died.

She no longer works as a sex worker as she is too old for customers who can instead have their pick of young girls. It made me wonder how she supports herself and was happy to hear that she receives 3000 rupees per month as a board member. Although that isn't enough for 3 people.

Lakshmi sat with us for awhile. She was quite pretty, sophisticated looking, soft spoken and sweet. She told me she had finished 10th grade and could talk some English. I wanted to know more about her but she had to go.

The board member was upset as she wanted us to stay for something to eat. Imagine that. She has almost nothing, yet wanted to give us a meal. We said our goodbyes and went on our way, out of an area full of brothels, sex workers, pimps and customers. A world of its own. As we walked and debriefed Shiva answered my question of how they supported themselves (the board member's family). I didn't want to hear him say it but deep down I already knew. Lakshmi is now working as a sex worker to support the family. This "profession" has been passed down from one generation to another, like families such as mine where my aunts became nurses just like my grandmother. But in this family it is sex work that is being passed on, and sadly, the destiny of the granddaughter will quite likely be the same.