Ever heard of a lakh or crore?

Hunter's Beach - worth the 2km trek

Z Hotel, Puri - once the home of the Raja of Serampore

Jagannath Temple in Puri - we were there for the Durja Puja festival

My first month's work has mainly involved researching the activities of Gram Vikas - familiarising myself with MANTRA (Movement and Action Network for Transformation in Rural Areas) and the various departments within the organisation (we employ over four hundred people in Orissa). I’ve also managed to get involved with hardware too; Indian website www.donateyourpc.in will shortly be supplying us with twenty PCs for schools run by Gram Vikas. The problem at the moment is that they need collecting from Hyderabad, only 880 kilometres away! Sounds like a job for one of our Mahindra Marshall jeeps (I won’t be driving). As we’re dealing with large numbers I’ll share with you the South Asian numbering system. You can skip the next few sentences if this is a bit nerdy but in addition to thousands and millions they also have lakhs (100,000) and crores (10,000,000). Numbers are written 3,00,00,000 instead of 30,000,000 – all very confusing. Their biggest number is known as “Adant Singhar” which is the equivalent of 10 with 41 zeros on the end. I guess such a large number is needed when you’re issuing Indian traffic violations! OK nerdy bit over. You may have noticed a new button (on the right of this page) which will now allow people to donate money to the Gram Vikas - we're using www.charitygiving.co.uk as our agent. In the next few weeks this button will also appear at www.gramvikas.org. Fellow volunteer (I was going to say VSO) Olive Fives will shortly be returning to Ireland and I'll be attempting to carry on some of her invaluable organisational development work. I’ll be process mapping (whatever that means – only joking Olive) the key functions of the organisation. Ultimately this may well lead to a return to The Gambia as project MANTRA will soon start providing help to African villages.

At the beginning of October (only a few weeks after my arrival) Hindus celebrated Durja Puja, one of the major festivals of the year. As the office was closed for the week I took the opportunity to visit Puri, a short (by Indian standards) five hour train trip to the north. Puri, as well as being a beach resort, is also home to one of the four main Hindu religious sites or “dhams”. The Jagannath Temple (interesting fact - this is where we get the word “juggernaut” from) is a very impressive 215 feet structure, during the festival only accessible by Hindus. The Rath Yatra celebrations in July include large towers that move along the streets with an "irresistible, destructive force" (a bit like the water buffalo on the small country lanes surrounding our campus!) I managed to get a room at the Z (pronounced Jed) hotel, an impressive mansion, once the home of Raja of Serampore). I paid a few rupees extra for AC, well worth it as this place has the coolest air-conditioning in India.

The following day we decided to head to the remote “Rangers” beach - so remote that we only knew it was just off the road to Konark (another impressive temple). We managed to get a willing auto-rickshaw driver (who charged two hundred rupees despite not knowing where he was going) and headed off. When we spotted Rangers' Restaurant we knew we weren't far; the remainder of the trip had to be done on foot. We trekked the final two kilometres making sure we kept a look-out for the white faded markings on the pine trees and the large wolf spider burrows in the ground. The hike was well worth it - as we approached we could hear the roar of the crashing waves from the Indian Ocean. We found a completely deserted beach, with a small beach hut made from palm leaves for shade.

As a requirement for my employment visa I had to register with my local police station within fourteen days of arrival. Other volunteers had warned me that this would involve numerous lengthy visits and multiple copies of paperwork (five of everything plus photos!). I only finished this process yesterday (I reckon on the sixth trip) and now have a full residents permit. On the plus side the office we sat in has a TV permanently set to Star Movies, which this time was showing The Chronicles of Narnia, the Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe (usually they show Bollywood stuff). We managed to watch most of it during our visit – I was there to only sign one document.

Having come to terms with the lack of "Indian" tonic water in Orissa I was in for another shock when I drank my first glass of Indian beer. It has a strange sweet after-taste that's the result of the addition of glycerine, which acts as a preservative. Even when you buy a recognized brand such as Carlsberg or Fosters you can't get away from it. We'll be heading to Calcutta soon to watch England in the cricket - I'm seriously hoping that I can get some unadulterated imported beer. I think there's more chance of England winning to be honest (maybe not, 5-0 in the ODI)! The only other option is to try and remove the glycerine. The technique is very risky and involves opening an upside down bottle under water (without shaking). As the glycerine is heavier than water (and alcohol is lighter than water) a yellow dollop of the offending preservative should slide out the upturned bottle. I'll let you know if I end up with any beer!

I hadn't been back to Bhubaneswar since my arrival in India. As it's the capital city of Orissa (with a population of 1.5 million) I seized the opportunity when invited to a party for NGO volunteers/workers to watch the rugby world cup final. It's only a four hour trip up the railway line, so a local trip really. Another part of Indian culture I hadn't experienced yet were the gangs of transvestites who harass travellers on trains for money. They are usually invited to weddings as a symbol of good luck and fertility – I guess they make extra money when they travel? Fellow volunteer Jack had a close shave when he tried to "stare-out” a gang member – problem was I think he smirked at one point (not recommended). I kept my head down and concentrated intensely on my book (sorry Jack).

We returned to Mohuda the following day - this time getting a local “express” train that stopped at every station – averaging a not particularly rapid 20 miles an hour. The train was absolutely packed (with no transvestites in sight to our relief). I ended up sitting on top of a luggage rack - I made the cardinal sin of leaving my sandals on as I climbed up. The guy below me went ballistic. After apologising profusely I was eventually invited back down (as the train became less crowded) and told to put my sandals back on! Uncertain if this was another custom I obliged.

As today is Diwali (Hindu festival of light) the office is closed again (a bit like The Gambia) - a good chance to catch up with the blog. We're heading into Berhampur later for a meal and to watch the fireworks - hopefully we’ll avoid getting blown up by firecrackers - fingers crossed. The jeep driver says we should avoid returning before nine as this is when the most of the carnage occurs!

Trains, Planes & Auto-Rickshaws

My new house, number 11 - it's got 24hr running hot water!

After a very long day I've finally arrived in Mohuda in south-east Orissa, India. I left home at 2.15pm in a taxi on 21st September and arrived at Gram Vikas in a Marshall jeep at 3am on the 23rd. Where did September 22nd go? I was greeted at Bhubaneswar airport by a driver from Gram Vikas, a friendly chap called Swaine - he would accompany me for the three hour train journey down the coast to Berhampur. My lift to the train station was made in a Hindustan Ambassador - fifty years ago this car was known as a Morris Oxford in the UK. It was the perfect car for my first trip in India. Using Indian Railways would also be fun - the 160km journey cost the princely sum of 77p - our tickets were for general class (these are the jam-packed cattle cars without reservations at the end of the train). Fortunately we found an empty sleeper car, although being very tired I didn't sleep a wink for fear of waking up 1,000km down the line in Chennai (formerly Madras). Most India towns are known by two names - the former colonial title and the original name that the country is now reverting to. It gets very confusing as the state of Orissa is officially Odisha and Berhampur is actually Bramhapur - various spellings exist and train stations use abbreviations - so the station I needed to look out for was BAM (not BRA or BER as you might expect). The number of people sleeping rough at the entrance to Berhampur station straight away shocked me - as we drove out of town (population of over 800,000 by the way) into the countryside people were sleeping at the side of the road, in rickshaws – basically wherever they could. The vegetation is very jungle like - a lot greener than The Gambia. The Gram Vikas estate is about a thirty minutes drive, I wasn't expecting it to be a walled village with a main gate set in one hundred and fifteen acres of jungle. After another five minute ride down a headlamp lit jungle track I finally viewed my new house - it was 3am - welcome to room three, near the bio-diesel labs.

The room was very small - it did have a bathroom with a toilet and shower, so things were definitely looking up! The days of checking my pit-latrine for bats were well and truly over. The other volunteers (Olive (VSO) from Ireland, Rich from Cheshire (near Chester not Sandbach), Jack from Wales, Matt from the US & Dorothy (from Bangalore) were based in much bigger rooms with facilities I could only dream of in The Gambia - kitchens, hot water, having access to more than one power socket. Nikolas, a German volunteer would shortly be leaving so I seized the opportunity - after all I needed a kitchen - I live to cook! Talking about food, Olive "kindly" woke me at 8.20am the following day to suggest we have breakfast at the mess! Three hearty meals are served each day, 8.30am breakfast, 1pm lunch & 8.30pm dinner. Looks like my butternut squash curry signature dish would have to be put on hold. We all wash our metal trays before and after eating – currently I’m the only one using a spoon. After a couple of days near the Bio-diesel plant I moved into my new home - it was a good job as two days later they found a five foot hooded-cobra there! I really like my new home - it has a nice tall ceiling, it's well ventilated so it keeps relatively cool. The wet-room/bathroom area is open to a screened mesh wall so the jungle outside can be very easily seen (and more importantly its occupants can't get in). There are only a few minor issues - my ceiling fan is permanently set to take-off speed and I have to hold the cistern when I flush for fear of ripping it off the wall! Mustn't grumble - all things considered it's five-star volunteer accommodation.

Gram Vikas stands for village development in Hindi - their main focus is the supply of water and sanitation systems for poor rural communities. In many rural villages the only supply of water is from the local stream or pond. This source may be quite a distance from the village and it falls on the women's shoulders (literally) to collect & carry the water each day. The same water source is also used for cleaning and human waste disposal. When I arrived at Gram Vikas I was warned that I would see a lot of people "ODing" when we went back into Berhampur. Is there really a big drug problem here? It turned out that "ODing" means open defecating - people will defecate by the side of the road, stream or pond. Obviously this presents a huge health risk. I didn't appreciate the less obvious impact it has on the community. Women don't want to bath in public so wait until night - and even then will wash fully clothed. Risk of attacks deters them even further. They will only make toilet trips at dusk or dawn and run the risk of related infections from "holding it in". Project Mantra (Movement and Action Network for the Transformation of Rural Areas) aims to supply a separate clean water supply, kitchen & bathroom for each family in a village. One hundred percent participation is required (one family that doesn't join can still pollute the whole village) and levels of financial commitment varies depending upon the wealth of the family. Once a clean water supply is installed village life dramatically improves. Human waste (after composting) can be used to grow crops; ponds that were previously polluted can be used to stock fish.

Life in the Mohuda settlement is very relaxed compared to our local town; we can arrange transportation into Berhampur if required. It's quite easy to remain in our peaceful oasis if you can get by without toilet paper (this will be covered in a later blog entry). The main forested area of the village is made up of Eucalyptus trees – we get the benefit of the wonderful fragrance on the way to work and their natural mosquito repellent properties too. For my first trip we headed into town with the imaginative plan of "having an Indian". We were saying goodbye to Nikolas (and thanks for the room) and enjoyed an amazing meal of tandoori chicken with butter nans, paneer, and kofta. My previous visit was at 3am so the sheer volume of people came as quite a surprise - 800,000 people, that's about half the entire Gambian population. The chaos on the roads was staggering - people on scooters/bikes (no helmets), cows, cars, buses, trucks, sheep, and dogs - all heading in whichever direction (and side of the road) they pleased. When we arrived at a roundabout I thought surely they'll all go round in the same direction. No chance - it was a complete free-for-all, to be fair you can't expect a cow or goat to understand the Highway Code. Despite the madness I didn't see a single crash - it somehow works; quite a few close shaves though. As we only have a one-day weekend (yes I work until 4pm on Saturday) - we decided to head to the nearest coastal town - Gopalpur-on-Sea (a very quaint name - it even had a lighthouse). We travelled by stretched auto-rickshaw (known as Tuk-tuks in Thailand) – “stretched” as in it could fit five people. This time I witnessed two crashes (one guy fell asleep on his scooter and hit the side of our rickshaw, the other guy left the road and landed in a padi field. Both appeared to be OK, if a bit startled. Gopalpur was once a fashionable location for the British (hence the name) it now feels a little run down - but the friendly staff at Grishnas Restaurant more than made up for it. We even managed to get a chocolate Cornetto for 30p.