Ethnographic Study of Food Perceptions & Nurturance in Mumbai, India

By Vaidehi Mujumdar

At Dartmouth, so many of us take off-terms that take us all around the world. Many experiences and stories get lost, forgotten or kept within a small group of people. It’s often the little things–the anecdotes, the frustrations, the process of writing itself, and the important aspect of being able to communicate with others—that lead to personal growth within the various societal, community, and even global atmospheres we all take part in.

For the past month, I have been working with the NGO “One!International” in the mainly urban outskirts of Mumbai to gauge changing cultural perspectives towards food and nutrition. The research constitutes a link between traditional small-scale ethnographical studies and macro-oriented studies of development.Throughout my study, I hope to share my experiences and stories in the field.

Mumbai, located in western India, is home to some of the richest people in the world as well the poorest. This fall, I am conducting ethnographic research on perceptions of nutrition and food in an outskirts town of Mumbai called Nallasopara. I am also working in the Khar area slum inside Mumbai. One! International is a Canadian NGO that has been in Mumbai for about 12 years. I am volunteering as a teacher at the two NGO schools in Khar and in Nallasopara teaching classes in English, Math, Exercise, and Health. I am also building relationships with the children and local families to conduct interviews and follow a small group of families in-depth during my three months in India. The dual roles seemed taxing when I first started, but I realized that I am researching twenty-four seven as I interact with the children, their parents, other volunteers, and NGO staff. Part of my project is to look at how perceptions of food and medicine, both traditional and what we call “Western” are changed by the presence of an international NGO.

One thing I have learned over the last month is that plans are made to be broken. The ethnography process is both challenging and low-maintenance in that it is observation: I’m not running an experiment in a scientific, methodological way with instructions. When dealing with people and participant observation, I have found they lead me to a goal or to a question through how they speak, how they behave, and what they tell me.

Many times I feel as if participant observation, especially in India, is a similar experience to being in a movie.I can just sit outside, overlooking a street, and hear a thousand different conversations in several different languages, see BMWs driving next to bicycles and smell both the fish market and Dominos from the same street. Ethnographic research is overwhelming at times because I want to capture what I hear, see, smell, touch—but I know that a picture, video, or even the most descriptive of words will never do justice to what it feels like walking through the inner mazes of some of the biggest slums in India. Field work is often frustrating for that reason and I find myself contacting my anthropology professor with questions and concerns on how and what and who I should be looking at, asking questions about—and his answer, although guiding, is always vague for which he just says is the nature of this work.

Fortunately, today we finally received good word about a student who had been in a kerosene fire accident about three weeks ago. One of the girls at the Khar school, Kolkila, had been cooking and something went wrong with the stove and she got burned. The flames engulfed her face and went all the way down to her waist. This incident occurred at 5 pm October 6— 35% of her body was burned. Her family immediately tried to get her to a hospital, but was turned down. They went to three different government hospitals, one being a hospital for prisoners and convicts. All of them refused to admit her. Her family immediately contacted One! Teachers, staff, and the director all banded together to see if they could drive her or get her into another hospital.

The wounds Kokila suffered continued to burn from 5 pm until midnight when one of the teachers made a phone call to his uncle. His uncle happens to be the MLA* of the district and because this uncle called the third hospital, Kokila was finally admitted–seven hours later. It took them another hour to take her into the ICU. By then, the percentage of her body burned had increased to 50%. Meanwhile, this girl was conscious and talking. When I heard that she had been waiting for seven hours, I almost hoped that she had lost consciousness so at least the pain would not be unbearable. At 1 am, Kokila was finally in the burn unit where an intern took care of six burn patients. There was no staff—no nurses, ward boys, or attending physicians. The intern had to change all of the dressings for each patient. Each dressing took two hours. He was working non-stop for 12 hours just to provide clean dressings, on top of all of his other responsibilities as a physician.

Walking into a government hospital can be compared to walking into a train station. The only difference is that the hospital has chairs. The school staff that was present when Kokila was admitted pushed her through the wards, transferred her onto the gurney, and wheeled her to her room. A burn patient is generally put into a sterile room, with little to no contact with others because of the risk of infection. Kokila had a possibility of sepsis, organ failure, and several internal infections. Her
entire family, the teachers, and friends were all allowed to walk in without
having to wash their hands or put on surgical clothes. On top of that, there was no air conditioning in her room. The place was unhygienic for a normal, healthy person, let alone a burn victim.

While all of this was going on, I couldn’t help but fixate on the fact that a
government hospital, whose purpose is to provide treatment and health-care for those that cannot afford it, turned away a 14 year old girl who has third degree burns. Although government hospitals are technically free, bribes are basically expected for admittance. Kokila, whose family lives in the slum, obviously does not have money for a hospital stay, let alone an additional bribe. Corruption is present everywhere in India: to refuse to admit a patient because they are too much of a liability is to say that the hospital doesn’t value human life. I know it’s a naive thought and I do not know what kind of pressures these doctors face, however, I just could not and still can not get over the fact that a doctor saw this little girl in excruciating pain, still burning, and refused to treat her. Money is always an issue, but there are also ethics that come along with being a medical professional. Kokila traveled to three different hospitals and if she had not been admitted when she was, she would have died that night.

Kokila fortunately received many donations from One! and this funding allowed for her to be moved to a private hospital, which is more like the hospitals people in the West are used to seeing. She has a full-time nurse, 2 doctors, and is doing well so far. For the last couple of weeks, the doctors continued to say that the next two weeks are crucial and she has a 50 percent chance of survival. Over the last couple of weeks, Kokila has received skin grafts from both of her legs. Now, she only needs a graft from the back of a leg transferred to her shoulders and back. The doctors say she no longer has any internal infections. With the success of this last surgery, she should be back home next week.

The kids at the school all made “Get Well Soon” cards even though they don’t know what that phrase means. They wrote messages that only children can write such as “Kokila, come back soon. I will never fight with you again over the red eraser” or “Kokila, I will share my lunch with you on Mondays.” The slum-area in Khar is a small community, so even the littlest children knew by word of mouth what had happened to Kokila. It really shook the school and getting updates is something that makes everyone feel that they still have contact with Kokila, especially since they have not been allowed to see her. Although we are all grateful Kokila is doing well, I still question how this situation was ethically handled by the healthcare system in India. In the next couple of weeks, the medical coordinator for One! and I will be touring area hospitals and hopefully that will help me better understand how government and private hospitals are structured and operated—shedding light on Kokila’s experiences.

*An MLA is a “Member of the Legislative Assembly.” He or she is elected by voters of a particular district to represent them in the state legislature.

HIV/AIDS in Plettenburg Bay

By John Kline

South Africa was under apartheid less than 20 years ago.  While 20 years may seem like ancient history to Dartmouth students, it means almost every adult in the country has some memory of that era.  Considering the state of urban segregation in the USA almost 150 years after our Civil War, the implications of South Africa’s very recent political reforms are clear.  For a month last spring, I lived in the town of Plettenberg Bay on the Western Cape of South Africa.  If you never left the town center, Plettenberg Bay would appear similar to many other beautiful beach towns, equipped with fancy restaurants, surf shops, hotels, and million-dollar vacation homes.  But just a 5-minute jog from the city center, I reached thousands and thousands of hand built, wood and tin shacks with no running water.  These two communities inhabited different economic worlds, and they were almost entirely segregated by race as well; blacks and coloreds lived in the “townships,” while foreigners and white South Africans lived in the urban center and along the coast

Now consider HIV and AIDS.  In 2008, the World Health Organization estimated that between 15.4% and 20.9% of the population of South Africa had HIV.  Almost a fifth of the population had a disease with no cure and no vaccine, and the government only started national antiretroviral drug distribution six years ago.  Consequently, much of the population still does not get the treatment they need.

HIV/AIDS is an extremely socially situated disease; stigma, misunderstanding, poverty, and other diseases exacerbate it. I worked for a month with an organization called Plett Aid, which provides home-based care to the townships in the region and helps coordinate the government’s HIV/AIDS response.  I would go out in the mornings with one of the home-based care workers, Margaret, and visit patients around the community.  One of the most powerful aspects of home-based care is that it trains people to care for other people. Margaret was an effective caregiver in Kwanokuthula, the township she lived in, because she spoke the languages necessary (English, Xhosa, and Afrikaans) and cared deeply about her community. We would make sure patients were taking their antiretroviral drugs, check blood pressure, check glucose levels, change bandages, and make sure everyone knew how to take his or her medications. Margaret also was a friend to many of her patients.  Before Margaret measured blood and glucose levels, patients usually invited her in, offered her a drink, and chatted with her.  While HIV/AIDS was a focus, caretakers were responsible for taking care of any other mental or physical problems the patient was experiencing.

The stigma surrounding HIV is enormous. Many patients never tell their families or friends, so their care worker may be the only person who knows their “positive” status.  Since Plett Aid provides chronic healthcare to everyone (even old ladies who get bitten by dogs), neighbors who see care workers walking into a home don’t necessarily think, “he or she must have AIDS.”   These patients were not easy to classify due to a lot of overlap among different conditions. One woman we visited was getting treatment for tuberculosis, and as we were leaving, Margaret told me she probably was suffering from AIDS as well, but had not been tested.

For a moment, it is worth considering what care looks like in the region around Plettenberg Bay without home-based care.  There is a clinic in each of the townships, each of which is generally open to everyone, but all of which are crowded.  More importantly though, the clinic in a township like Kwanokuthula may be up to a mile away from patients toward the edges of town.  The people who need to walk that mile are the sick or the hurt ones: patients with AIDS, TB, or who are severely injured.  I saw very few cars parked outside houses, and the ambulance (which you have to pay for) will take you only to the nearest hospital about 30 minutes away.  All of these factors add up and create a serious barrier to care for a large portion of the population, whether in terms of cost, distance, or time.  By comparison, home-based care is a service that bridges these barriers.  A 2009 study in Uganda compared clinic-based care with home-based care.  It found that home-based care significantly lowered the access cost for users and slightly reduced operating costs.  Operating costs are relatively unaffected because the cost of drugs stays large and stays the same between the two delivery systems.  So on an economic level, as well as a personal level, home-based care is a powerful healthcare delivery system.

However, home-based care service was not the standard health care system in Plettenberg Bay.  Plettenberg Bay is located in Western Cape province, one of the first and best provinces for antiretroviral treatment. Yet even within the Western Cape province, the poorer communities (such as the townships surrounding Plettenberg Bay), still depend on state-funded public health solutions like clinics and home-based care. The provincial or national government funds much of the home-based care, although Plett Aid supplements that funding with grants and fundraising efforts.  In contrast, the residents of wealthier communities stick with private medical care and are less affected by changes in public health care.  Overall, I found home-based care to be a compassionate and effective way to provide quality public health care in resource-limited settings, especially to patients infected with HIV or suffering from AIDS.

Walking Barefoot

By Juliana Ortego

In the mountains of Costa Rica, the people in the rural village of Chinampas live in dire conditions unimaginable to the majority of students at Dartmouth.  The locals live in a spread-out community along the side of a mountain.  Until 2006, they lived without running water or electricity. Children walk in the fields and on the dirt roads with no shoes to protect their feet from tarantulas and scorpions.  The closest healthcare facility is miles away, making immediate aid virtually impossible.  Yet despite the absence of life’s basic amenities, the people of Chinampas do not struggle to find happiness.

In the summer of 2006, I joined a team of 15 students and traveled to Chinampas with the hope of constructing a water system for the village. Previously, children walked over three miles up the mountain in order to collect fresh water in old soda bottles.  However, they could never gather much water in just one trip.  They had no other choice but to make the trip up the mountain several times a day to provide water for their families.  I needed to make this trip twice each day, once in the morning and again in the afternoon.  Each time, my team and I struggled to climb and carry our tools to reach our work site.  It was unbelievable that children half my age had to make this trip multiple times a day.  In addition, making multiple trips kept these children from being able to attend school.  As a result, many families opted for an alternative; instead of gathering clean water, children gathered water from the closest water source, a source contaminated with animal feces and bacteria.  They were forced to choose between their health and their education, a decision no human should ever have to make.

My team and I worked for three weeks, digging trenches and laying pipes in order to connect the fresh water source to a cistern in the center of the village.  The task was difficult due to the daily downpours characteristic of the rainforest.  Most days, we had to wait hours before we could resume our work, only to find that much of our progress had been destroyed as a result of shifts in the mud which caused the trenches we had already dug to fill up with clay.  Various other factors inhibited our progress.  The three-mile hike up the mountain that we completed twice a day had a physical toll on our bodies and took away valuable time that we could have spent working.  Additionally, the lack of decent food and cold water (we had to boil all of our drinking water) combined with the inability to access showers made our task even more difficult.

We worked side by side with many of the locals, many of whom gladly spent their free time joining the effort to obtain a healthier, more accessible water source.  One day while we were working in the forest, a man accidentally sliced his head open with a machete while clearing tree branches from our path.  The cut was deep and bled profusely.  Yet, medical care was miles away and there was no form of convenient transportation.  The man had no choice but to walk over ten miles to reach the closest clinic in order to receive sutures.  Surprisingly, he was working alongside us the next day, unable to spend time resting because he was determined to provide for his family and community.

Despite all of these hardships, however, it was rare to find someone with a frown on their face.  The children appreciated what little they had, spending their free time playing on a dirt soccer field after school.  Even though there was only one poorly constructed goal post on the field, the kids still enjoyed playing.  Families spent a lot of time together, and most attended church 2-3 times a week.  They rejoiced and thanked God for what they had, rather than dwelling on what they lacked.  Their joy is so contagious that my team, struggling to adjust to an unknown lifestyle and culture, was able to smile even during the toughest of times.

The living conditions in Chinampas are extremely modest.  Basic provisions that we take for granted on a daily basis are sparse.  Yet the people still manage to find joy in their lives.  They have a surprising appreciation for one another and the little that they do have.  Their outlook on life is vastly different from ours.  After spending just three weeks in their village, I had a greater appreciation for the simple things of life we often take for granted.  Every time I take a sip of water, flip a light switch, take a shower and tie my shoes, it is hard to forget just how fortunate I am.  I will never forget the people of Chinampas.

Red Cross, Norway, First Aid

By Pavel Bacovsky

If four years ago somebody told me that by the spring of 2010 I would be a trained First Aid provider able to take care of injuries all across Europe, I would look at him or her with disbelief.  Prior to enrolling at the Red Cross Nordic United World College (RCNUWC) in Norway, I was never involved with rescue teams, mainly because the Czech town I come from is actually quite small and does not provide many opportunities to get involved in free time activities. But during my two years at the international boarding school in Norway, I got the chance to explore the field of emergency medical help, and it was love at the first sight.

The RCNUWC was founded in 1995 as one of the schools of the United World Colleges (UWC) movement. The dream of Nordic college was made possible because of efforts of the UWC movement, Nordic countries (Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland and Iceland all contribute to the budget of the college), and the Norwegian Red Cross. The cooperation between the Red Cross and the RCNUWC staff and students is represented through extracurricular activities, and the recent (2009) establishment of the Red Cross Certificate for students who get especially involved in the Red Cross-related events serves as a shining example of the healthy partnership.

Of all activities, the First Aid Team is most probably the most popular among the students. Many students come to the College with the intention of becoming the member of the Team, and even more become interested after they learn about the Team’s existence and activities (this was my case).  However, becoming a member is not easy and requires a lot of dedication and time commitment. First of all, all first year (juniors of high school by the USA standards) students have to complete the compulsory 12-hour training program provided by the second year members of the First Aid Team.  During the course, the students have to prove both their passion and dedication for first aid, and demonstrate that they are able to master the life-saving skills and teamwork. Usually about 75% of the hundred first-year students apply to join the team, but usually only 30 to 35 spots are open. Needless to say, the competition is tough, but always friendly.

For those accepted, the true training begins. The members of the First Aid Team meet at least twice a week: for an afternoon training and scenario session (which from my experience usually takes the entire 2.5 hours allocated to it), and shorter squad meetings during which the squads plan scenarios and practice the first aid skills. The other obligations of the teams are 1) to provide around-the-clock first aid coverage for the campus of the RCNUWC, 2) to provide first aid coverage to the RCNUWC and local events such as marathons, 3) to provide the basic First Aid training for the students of the RCNUWC, as well as for the local Norwegian elementary and high school students. On top of that, thanks to the involvement of the RCNUWC First Aid coordinator David Robertson, the members of the RCNUWC First Aid team help with training of Serbian National First Aid Team for the annual European First Aid Championship (FACE).  To exemplify the quality of the training: since the Serbian team has started training at the RCNUWC five years ago, they have won FACE every year, becoming the first ever First Aid team that has won the competition four times in a row.  Sadly, Serbians will not extend their streak since this year, since FACE is set to take place in Serbia this year and the hosting country cannot send a team to compete.

My experience in the First Aid Team of the RCNUWC was invaluable.  As I already alluded to, I never got the chance to be involved in the emergency medicine before RCNUWC.  Through my 1.5 years on the team, I learned a lot about this field.  I have also improved my group-work, planning, coaching and lecturing skills. But most importantly, I got the chance to interact with injured people and help them in securing their speedy recovery.  During my tenure on the team, while having several emergency situations, we never had to deal with anything severe.  But even through the limited amount of encounters, I have learned how crucial is a skilled, calm and reassuring first aid provider for the well-being casualty.

While I was not able to get involved in the EMT here on Dartmouth due to time constraints, I still keep up with the Team in Norway.  If everything goes as planned, I will be able to meet some of my friends from the team this summer in Beograd, Serbia, at the FACE 2010.