Apologies, I know I havent been as good at writing the last few days. We've had some adventures... Since you last heard from me in any serious matter (as in, before the brief episode that I described with the old woman and my anklets) I have visited the Chor Bazaar (the "Thieves Market." It received its name because once upon a time the royal family came to visit Bombay and Queen Victoria's violin was stolen from the ship. Eventually it was recovered in this market, where someone found someone else trying to sell it...), we walked around Bandra (one of the cooler districts) because we wanted to celebrate our friend Ada's birthday but... it was a dry day for the entire city since elections were going on. The irony. We went through the markets around Coloaba, I went through some of the alleyways near here that are rumored to have independent designers... and made some friends with women making their own designs for clothing and selling them right there (seriously cool work). And I kept working on my Dharavi project.
Something interesting: I rode in the women's compartment on the train when I went with Emilie to Dharavi tomorrow, spending the day intentionally getting lost and figuring our way out. The women's compartments are these genius spaces on the train for just women. There are less people, you dont get groped, and everyone relaxes. AND NO ONE STARES AT ME!!! Great success. I can finally blend into the wall. Only the little girls peer at me curiously. Which I can totally handle.
I guess I never quite realized how much I love the anonymity of big cities until right now. When I can never, no matter how hard I try, blend into the walls. Even though I'm in the sun everyday here, I'm never going to catch up. So... I have to embrace feeling like a weirdo, glow in the dark pokemon kind of thing for now (thats how people look at me sometimes. It's made easier by the fact that I am wearing kurtas everyday now. But still...). We sat on the train and I took notes on what I was going to work through once we got to Dharavi, the vendors arrived. A woman dropped her crate of pomegrantes on the seat next to me, startling me from my furious scratching in my notebook and tried to sell me a pomegranate. I was tempted. They were beautiful and I would have to peel them... which meant I could eat it... but then the idea of the sticky red juice all over my kurta and my hands screamed BAD IDEA.
It's still not raining much... so I was going to be sweaty and sticky. Decided against that.
Once we arrived at the train station we encountered our first group of little boys. Something to keep in mind: the area surrounding Dharavi is middle class and has pretty nice housing, super markets, tailors etc. Then over the train station and all over the place is the tight, twisting city space of Dharavi. So we ran into some of the boys from the middle class neighborhood, who saw us, grinned evilly and said, "Hello. Candy!" Just like that. Like, oh hey foreign girls give me candy now.
We said "hallo" and kept walking. They kept yelling after me and then chucked a rock straight into the middle of my shoulder blades. I flinched but didnt turn around. I was not going to give them the attention that little boys around the world seem to demand. (I speak with experience: I have a charming and very outgoing little brother)
I knew they werent from Dharavi because we climbed the bridge to cross over and they dashed in front of me midway. Hands on hips. Staring up at me and I smirked back. "CANDY!" To which I replied, "Nahi" (this means no in Hindi). At that point, they let us walk past and we went straight into the wider streets of Dharavi.
Within seconds we were surrounded by people coming in and out of the area. Some smiling, some looking at us cautiously, some grinning. We also ran into another, larger group of little boys. But they werent demanding. They smiled and laughed and asked us what our names were. I told them simply, "Diana" and a few of them chanted, "oh what a beautiful name. It is a beautiful name."
They followed us for a while, more little boys joining in. Curiously staring at us from behind stands in the street, cars, motor bikes, and occasionally goats before they joined in. They asked us where we were from. "England?" they said, point up. (Not sure why up...) No, we told them. Emilie pointed to herself and said "France" and then to me and said "Mex-i-ko." They shrugged. Not many of them have heard of either of these countries, which was better. We dont tell people we are from America anymore because they get a strange look in their eyes. In Colaba you almost see the money signs pop up.
I drew a mental map for myself during our wandering, but my understanding of landmarks is pretty limited. I mostly remember the color and shape of buildings, since I cant read anything on them... It was a sunday, so the streets were quitter than when we were there last. It was a much nicer experience, to be honest.
We stayed on the wide street and went right for a while before we turned into a dark alley. After a few minutes we noticed a peculiar and familiar smell. That's when we heard the noises. We were in the butchers district of Dharavi where they practice Halal. This means that the throat of the animal is slit in a particular way to allow the animal to bleed to death and purify the meat. There is a struggle while the animal knows that it is dying and usually it produces sounds that are... a bit disturbing. So, of course, Diana and Emilie, the two vegetarians of the group, walk by a chicken undergoing this kind of slaughter and we both simultaneously gasp and cover our mouths, eyes wide in horror as we see a chicken screaming while its white feathers soak up it's blood and it's wings flap wildly, flinging blood against the walls of the small space.
Both looking a little pale, we left that area of Dharavi and quickened our pace until we found an open square filled with men and boys of all ages playing cricket. One man approached us and asked if we were lost/looking for something. We said no, and he was very gracious before he returned to his game of cricket.
SEE! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! He didnt look at me like I was a prostitute, he didnt ask me to buy anything from him, he just asked if we were lost because we were in some random square in the middle of some unknown area of Dharavi. This is why I prefer being here. They let us watch their game without a second glance, and then a new army of little boys appeared and began asking us questions until we crept down another dark alley and into another district.
A little further down from this apartment with murals, we found an open square with women working. HOORAH! This is what I was looking for! A few women were sitting in a square chatting and making brooms out of long, dried grasses and twine. We said, "Namaste" with huge smiles and they immediately smiled back and invited us to sit with them. We asked them about their work, what they were making, and they mimed answers in response. These were older, Hindi women with brightly colored Saris. Across the square we found a younger woman working at a printing press while her husband sat on the floor stacking pages. We asked her about her work and she also mimed and showed us how she was printing these pages. She smiled at us shyly and we thanked her before we kept walking.
We continued this way through the darker alleys in the center of this district for a while. Finding young women perched into thresholds, windows, and stairways chatting with each other. The younger women looked at us warily until I smiled huge toothy grins at them and greeted them. Most of them would laugh or gasp with surprise, and say "Namaste!!" back excitedly before saying something rushed and excited to their friends.
We walked by a school with children holding candy wrappers as they chewed on sweets. The older girls carried the smaller children, and when we pointed to the room and said "school" they nodded and stared at us wide eyed.
We found another little girl (probably around 11 years old) working at a sewing machine in the doorway of her apartment repairing pants. When she saw us she grinned. We asked her about what she was doing, and she started pointing at things in the room and saying the words in English. "Pants." "Fish" (there was a fish tank next to her) "Machine" "Door" "Girl." It was awesome! We had fun playing with her too.
After our first adventure with the butchers, neither of us were sure that we'd be able to handle the wander. But we slowly found our place among the women and it was far more comfortable than I imagined it could ever be. I was grateful to have Emilie with me because it is a very confusing space. There is a lot of darkness, rats the size of small kittens, and areas with a lot of sensory overload going on. Originally, I was going to be exploring and writing by myself for this project. Which in itself is super intimidating. Now I have a partner in crime and I relax a lot more.
Our return back had us jumping into a very crowded train during rush hour. Luckily we found the women's compartment and someone behind me essentially picked me up and threw me into the crowd on the train. My inner control freak positively died, but at least I made it on the train in one piece.
I have a lot to think about now. I'll be going back and forth all week doing some interviews, observing and wandering through this crazy and wonderful place. But it has really put a few things into perspective for me. I'm sure I'll have more to say by the end of the week, but here's to my first trip nearly alone to Dharavi!
