Friends of ours bought a car, second hand. We were invited to join them for their first ride and we went out together for dinner. After many rides on a scooter through the murderous traffic of Chennai, we all enjoyed the nice and comfortable car ride instead. When we reached the restaurant, we had to reverse the car to park. And there it was: like many cars in India, especially the little older ones (for the new ones you rarely notice it nowadays and you start to think that it’s a gone by fashion of sorts), this one had a tune when putting in the reverse gear. And this was not any tune, not some Bollywood movie song, We wish you a Merry Christmas etc.; this car had the tune of Lambada! The children of our friends said, what a stupid song this was, and which song after all. But for me, Lambada was the ultimate sound of going backwards, rather in a metaphorical sense.
Going back to the year 2000: A student in my early 20s, I decided to spend a year of my studies abroad. Somehow a sudden boldness and sense of adventure took me to India. After arriving here, in the initial stage, things seemed truly strange to me. Even the basic things of life seemed difficult to perform. There were many things happening around me, which were absolutely new to me. I have to admit, a feeling of being lost crept in. One Sunday morning, when I felt so helpless, I hadn’t even managed to go to church somewhere, I suddenly heard a sound. Sitting lonely in my room, I was unexpectedly surrounded by a very familiar tune: the tune of Lambada! This soothing sound of familiarity helped me to develop some courageous and step out of my room. When trying to find out the source of Lambada, it took me a few seconds. I looked around, till I finally understood, that it came from that car which was this moment reversing in front of my residence. I smiled. I had sorted out one more mystery of everyday life in India, and I had found a tune bridging the gap between life at home and life in India.
Going back to the year 1990: We were in our sweet teens, trying hard to grow up or at least appear grown up. Especially during birthday parties we were not satisfied any longer with playing ‘Hide and Seek’ and eating cake, potato chips and chocolates. We wanted to act a bit more sophisticated. Slowly, also an understanding of the difference and yet the attraction between boys and girls entered into our thinking, at a quiet innocent level still, but nevertheless. Working hard on this image change, there came a song to our rescue. Lambada! A hit song by a French music group, that had truly swept the charts and was absolutely popular during those days. The music video featured a popular Brazilian couple dance. Luckily, the parents of one classmate had learned the basics of this quite sensual dance. And one fine birthday party at their house, you could see all of us trying hard to follow the instructions of the mother of our friend. We were really trying hard! The two boys who were also invited to the birthday party were highly sought after dance partners. And we felt like we had grown up quite a bit, just during this one afternoon.
Though it might really be an outdated tune, and our friends’ kids rightly demand another tune if one at all for reversing the car, for me it was heaven to listen once again to this tune which has been part of my life for a long time now.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
“Ich heirate eine Familie” - "I am marrying a Family"
In letzter Zeit muss ich immer mal wieder an den Titel dieser Vorabendserie aus meiner Kinderzeit denken. Der Werbegrafiker oder war er Architekt Peter Weck, der sich zu einem Leben mit Thekla Carola Wied und ihren drei Kindern, namentlich im Gedächtnis geblieben ist mir nur Julia Biedermann, entschliesst und wie er mit dem plötzlichen Trubel von drei Kindern umgeht. Ich habe sie geliebt diese Serie, damals, habe keine Folge verpasst.
Ob diese kindliche Vorliebe wohl eine Vorahnung war, eine Andeutung auf das, was mir später im Leben begegnen würde? Man weiss es nicht. Aber ehrlich gesagt kann ich mich an irgendwelche Inhalte nur noch sehr schemenhaft erinnern, obwohl ich, wie gesagt, keine Folge verpasst habe, damals. Nur der Titel, der ist hängen geblieben.
Heute fällt er mir immer dann ein, wenn gerade mal wieder meine Familie „zuschlägt“. Nein, nein, nicht meine deutsche, die beschauliche mit Vater, Mutter und zwei Geschwistern und sehr beschränkten verwandtschaftlichen Verwicklungen. Nein, meine Familie das sind in diesem Fall die beiden Clans (schwiegermütterlicher und schwiegerväterlicher seits), die ich mit meinem Eheversprechen gegenüber meinem Mann sozusagen mit-geheiratet habe. Hätte ich damals schon gewusst, wer alles so an meinem Mann dranhängt, ich hätte zumindest einen ganz schönen Schreck bekommen, glaube ich. Zum Glück gehörte die Einsicht in die weitere Verwandtschaft zu den vielen Dingen, die ich mir für nach der Hochzeit aufgehoben hatte.
Mein Bruder hat die Sachlage gleich von Grund auf durchschaut und sagte mir, er wolle eine Datenbank mit Einträgen über sämtliche Familienmitglieder, damit er sich bei weiteren Besuchen in Indien nicht blamieren würde. Nur wenige indische Verwandte wissen es, aber eine beträchtliche Zahl von ihnen findet sich tatsächlich in einer Datenbank. Allerdings habe ich diese schon nach kurzer Zeit im Kopf weitergeführt, besonders weil die Einordnung vieler Verwandter doch eher in die Kategorie „wir sind irgendwie verwandt, und es reicht, das zu wissen“ fällt.
Die Familien sind jedenfalls weitverzweigt. Wo auch immer man in Indien (oder auf der Welt) hinkommt, ein Verwandter/eine Verwandte ist bestimmt nicht weit. Ich mag dieses Netzwerk. Nicht, dass man sich jedes Wochenende zum Kaffeetrinken trifft, aber man weißvon der Existenz des/der anderen. Besonderes der älteren Generation kommt hierbei eine wichtige Rolle zu, sich gegenseitig anzurufen, zu besuchen und auf dem Laufenden zu halten.
Immens wichtige Gelegenheiten, um sich dem/der anderen wieder ins Gedächtnis zu rufen, sind Hochzeiten. Da auf einer indischen Hochzeit die GESAMMTE Verwandtschaft (und irgenwen vergisst man doch immer) eingeladen wird, hat man gute Chancen mit dieser oder jenem ein bisschen small talk zu halten, sich eventuell (wieder) vorzustellen etc.
Eher an individualistische Lebensgestaltung gewöhnt, mutet es zunächst eventuell ein wenig einengend an, aber bei so einem Verwandtschaftsgeflecht wird einem nie lagnweilig. Es ist mir mittlerweile wichtig geworden, zu wissen was die zahlreichen Cousins und Cousinen so machen, wen man vielleicht mal besuchen oder anrufen sollte, weil er oder sie krank ist. Verwandtschaft kann man sich nicht aussuchen, und von daher sind Zusammentreffen auch immer spannend, da man sich mit einem Haufen ganz verschiedener Leute arrangieren muss und man mit Sicherheit enorm im Bereich sozialer Kompetenzen lernt.
Man darf, glaube ich, nicht den Fehler machen, Verwandte und Freunde/Freundinnen zu verwechseln (die gesellschaftlichen Bindungen sind einfach ganz andere), aber wenn man das beachtet, können einem die „lieben Verwandten“ das Leben ein ganzes Stück reicher machen. Und ganz wie Peter Weck in der Serie habe ich es nicht bereut, eine Familie geheiratet zu haben.
(Synopsis: Based on the title of a popular German tv serial in the 80s „I am marrying a family“, about a man who gets married to a woman with three children in their teens, I am reflecting about the rich family life in an Indian family including the wide-spread net of relatives. This is definitely a stark contrast experience for me to my family life in Germany, mostly centred around my nuclear family. But I recommend this as a very entertaining as well as feeling cared about experience.)
Ob diese kindliche Vorliebe wohl eine Vorahnung war, eine Andeutung auf das, was mir später im Leben begegnen würde? Man weiss es nicht. Aber ehrlich gesagt kann ich mich an irgendwelche Inhalte nur noch sehr schemenhaft erinnern, obwohl ich, wie gesagt, keine Folge verpasst habe, damals. Nur der Titel, der ist hängen geblieben.
Heute fällt er mir immer dann ein, wenn gerade mal wieder meine Familie „zuschlägt“. Nein, nein, nicht meine deutsche, die beschauliche mit Vater, Mutter und zwei Geschwistern und sehr beschränkten verwandtschaftlichen Verwicklungen. Nein, meine Familie das sind in diesem Fall die beiden Clans (schwiegermütterlicher und schwiegerväterlicher seits), die ich mit meinem Eheversprechen gegenüber meinem Mann sozusagen mit-geheiratet habe. Hätte ich damals schon gewusst, wer alles so an meinem Mann dranhängt, ich hätte zumindest einen ganz schönen Schreck bekommen, glaube ich. Zum Glück gehörte die Einsicht in die weitere Verwandtschaft zu den vielen Dingen, die ich mir für nach der Hochzeit aufgehoben hatte.
Mein Bruder hat die Sachlage gleich von Grund auf durchschaut und sagte mir, er wolle eine Datenbank mit Einträgen über sämtliche Familienmitglieder, damit er sich bei weiteren Besuchen in Indien nicht blamieren würde. Nur wenige indische Verwandte wissen es, aber eine beträchtliche Zahl von ihnen findet sich tatsächlich in einer Datenbank. Allerdings habe ich diese schon nach kurzer Zeit im Kopf weitergeführt, besonders weil die Einordnung vieler Verwandter doch eher in die Kategorie „wir sind irgendwie verwandt, und es reicht, das zu wissen“ fällt.
Die Familien sind jedenfalls weitverzweigt. Wo auch immer man in Indien (oder auf der Welt) hinkommt, ein Verwandter/eine Verwandte ist bestimmt nicht weit. Ich mag dieses Netzwerk. Nicht, dass man sich jedes Wochenende zum Kaffeetrinken trifft, aber man weißvon der Existenz des/der anderen. Besonderes der älteren Generation kommt hierbei eine wichtige Rolle zu, sich gegenseitig anzurufen, zu besuchen und auf dem Laufenden zu halten.
Immens wichtige Gelegenheiten, um sich dem/der anderen wieder ins Gedächtnis zu rufen, sind Hochzeiten. Da auf einer indischen Hochzeit die GESAMMTE Verwandtschaft (und irgenwen vergisst man doch immer) eingeladen wird, hat man gute Chancen mit dieser oder jenem ein bisschen small talk zu halten, sich eventuell (wieder) vorzustellen etc.
Eher an individualistische Lebensgestaltung gewöhnt, mutet es zunächst eventuell ein wenig einengend an, aber bei so einem Verwandtschaftsgeflecht wird einem nie lagnweilig. Es ist mir mittlerweile wichtig geworden, zu wissen was die zahlreichen Cousins und Cousinen so machen, wen man vielleicht mal besuchen oder anrufen sollte, weil er oder sie krank ist. Verwandtschaft kann man sich nicht aussuchen, und von daher sind Zusammentreffen auch immer spannend, da man sich mit einem Haufen ganz verschiedener Leute arrangieren muss und man mit Sicherheit enorm im Bereich sozialer Kompetenzen lernt.
Man darf, glaube ich, nicht den Fehler machen, Verwandte und Freunde/Freundinnen zu verwechseln (die gesellschaftlichen Bindungen sind einfach ganz andere), aber wenn man das beachtet, können einem die „lieben Verwandten“ das Leben ein ganzes Stück reicher machen. Und ganz wie Peter Weck in der Serie habe ich es nicht bereut, eine Familie geheiratet zu haben.
(Synopsis: Based on the title of a popular German tv serial in the 80s „I am marrying a family“, about a man who gets married to a woman with three children in their teens, I am reflecting about the rich family life in an Indian family including the wide-spread net of relatives. This is definitely a stark contrast experience for me to my family life in Germany, mostly centred around my nuclear family. But I recommend this as a very entertaining as well as feeling cared about experience.)
Multi-lingual blogging
Dear readers,
having put some thought in it, how to actually make my blog available for as many people as possible, I decided to try and keep my blog bi-lingual. There are a lot of people who won’t be able to follow a mono-lingual blog, and yet might be interested in my topics. Therefore, I will have selected entries in German.
Hallo,
Nach einigen Überlegungen habe ich mich entschlossen zwischendurch auch Beiträge auf Deutsch einzustellen. Vielleicht macht das mein Blog interessanter für ein breiteres Publikum und leichter zugänglich als ein rein Englisches. Viel Spaß beim Lesen!
having put some thought in it, how to actually make my blog available for as many people as possible, I decided to try and keep my blog bi-lingual. There are a lot of people who won’t be able to follow a mono-lingual blog, and yet might be interested in my topics. Therefore, I will have selected entries in German.
Hallo,
Nach einigen Überlegungen habe ich mich entschlossen zwischendurch auch Beiträge auf Deutsch einzustellen. Vielleicht macht das mein Blog interessanter für ein breiteres Publikum und leichter zugänglich als ein rein Englisches. Viel Spaß beim Lesen!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
To queue or not to queue – or how to queue?
Recently, when someone talked about what aspects a critical view on Indian society would contain, one of my (Indian) relatives instantly said, “Indians don’t know how to queue – go to the post office, go to any place where a queue is supposed to be formed, you will find people pushing, entering from the wrong side, overtaking…all without batting an eyelash”. My relative seemed seriously enraged about this matter.
Used to perfect German queues, one behind the other, a straight line (and if someone tried to break this perfect order, you can be sure the rest of the queue will teach this someone soon, that in a German queue there is no foul play), I have to admit, feelings of disbelief, astonishment, annoyance, slight anger overcome me once in a while, trying to await my turn patiently in a queue but having to realize that no one else seems to be interested in any kind of orderly queuing.
Then, I went to pay our electricity bill a couple of days ago. And there I suddenly seemed to be so close to the dream of a perfect queue: they had installed a token vending machine, a display and speaker system. I was greeted by the sound of a female voice announcing: “Token no. 45, counter no. 2”. I excitedly noticed this innovation, was reminded of municipal offices in Germany, where the same system is used. Instantly, I went to the machine, took my token number. Other people came into the room, some took a token, some came straight to the counters to queue and pay. But they were instantly told to go and collect their token.
An old man also had to go back, collect a token and return to the counters. Meanwhile, the female voice kept on announcing “Token no. 49, counter no. 1”. After a short hesitation, the old man asked another man, showing him his token, which number his was. The other man replied in Malayalam, that his was 52. I had listened to the conversation and started to think.
This seemingly perfect system contained certain difficulties. A system has to be suitable and comprehensible for all possible users. But this system definitely could reach only parts of Kerala society. This system assumed that everyone can read. Though Kerala has a high percentage of literacy, there might be still exceptions. And it assumed that everyone can understand English numbers. Something not necessarily the case with everyone in a state of India where the prevalent language is Malayalam.
So, is it a matter of literacy, of education whether I can stand in a queue? Or is it a matter of little thought on how to implement a system and how to make it accessible for everyone?
My initial enthusiasm about the chance to have a proper queue where I could await my turn tension free, had faded away after having witnessed this incident. I felt somehow that my queue had too high a price…the dignity of each and every member of society regardless of education, income etc.
Used to perfect German queues, one behind the other, a straight line (and if someone tried to break this perfect order, you can be sure the rest of the queue will teach this someone soon, that in a German queue there is no foul play), I have to admit, feelings of disbelief, astonishment, annoyance, slight anger overcome me once in a while, trying to await my turn patiently in a queue but having to realize that no one else seems to be interested in any kind of orderly queuing.
Then, I went to pay our electricity bill a couple of days ago. And there I suddenly seemed to be so close to the dream of a perfect queue: they had installed a token vending machine, a display and speaker system. I was greeted by the sound of a female voice announcing: “Token no. 45, counter no. 2”. I excitedly noticed this innovation, was reminded of municipal offices in Germany, where the same system is used. Instantly, I went to the machine, took my token number. Other people came into the room, some took a token, some came straight to the counters to queue and pay. But they were instantly told to go and collect their token.
An old man also had to go back, collect a token and return to the counters. Meanwhile, the female voice kept on announcing “Token no. 49, counter no. 1”. After a short hesitation, the old man asked another man, showing him his token, which number his was. The other man replied in Malayalam, that his was 52. I had listened to the conversation and started to think.
This seemingly perfect system contained certain difficulties. A system has to be suitable and comprehensible for all possible users. But this system definitely could reach only parts of Kerala society. This system assumed that everyone can read. Though Kerala has a high percentage of literacy, there might be still exceptions. And it assumed that everyone can understand English numbers. Something not necessarily the case with everyone in a state of India where the prevalent language is Malayalam.
So, is it a matter of literacy, of education whether I can stand in a queue? Or is it a matter of little thought on how to implement a system and how to make it accessible for everyone?
My initial enthusiasm about the chance to have a proper queue where I could await my turn tension free, had faded away after having witnessed this incident. I felt somehow that my queue had too high a price…the dignity of each and every member of society regardless of education, income etc.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Well-being...
Well-being...
Sunday morning, waking up early, am going to the kitchen, still with eyes half closed, to prepare tea. I can hear the sound of water outside and I know it’s not a nice sound. Stepping outside, I can see that from our water tank on top of the roof water is flowing quite forcefully, splashing onto the ground. What a mess! A pipe is broken and after closing the main water connection to our house, within minutes the tank has emptied its content onto the ground. No running water in the house any more!
From a state of well-being, enjoying the amenities of running tap water in the house, I am in no time and without prior warning turned into a well being, having to draw water from our well to fill bucket after bucket to meet our basic water needs for some time till the plumber would come. I guess my arm muscles and body as a whole got a good exercise till I had filled and taken inside the house enough buckets to be able to take bath, to flush the toilet, to wash our hands and dishes. When the plumber came in the evening, he was welcomed with open arms. And we were glad when he could fix the problem and we could once again enjoy water coming out of the tap when turning it on.
Experiences like that give food for thought.
You suddenly realize how much water is actually needed in a house for basic needs. The most striking realization though is, if I may say frankly, how much water you need to keep your toilet working. When we pull the flush, do we ever think how many liters of water are running through the pipe in that second?
The value of a well as permanent source of drinking water suddenly comes to your mind. For many (middle-class) houses in Kerala still a common appearance, too often their existence is taken for granted. But sinking ground water levels, water pollution etc. are posing a serious threat and make one think for how long these will remain assured sources of drinking water? Those houses without a well have to depend on the reliability and mercy of the public water supply. At least in Kerala, connections don’t provide water 24/7. If you know fixed timings for your area, at least you can fill your tanks. But if taps remain dry without warning for days or weeks, the situation turns grim.
You start thinking about people who not only for a limited time, but permanently have no own water connection in their houses at all. Our well is right next to our house, but people who depend on public water connections or wells have to carry their water distances, often kilometers, liter by liter, bucket by bucket.
Sunday morning, waking up early, am going to the kitchen, still with eyes half closed, to prepare tea. I can hear the sound of water outside and I know it’s not a nice sound. Stepping outside, I can see that from our water tank on top of the roof water is flowing quite forcefully, splashing onto the ground. What a mess! A pipe is broken and after closing the main water connection to our house, within minutes the tank has emptied its content onto the ground. No running water in the house any more!
From a state of well-being, enjoying the amenities of running tap water in the house, I am in no time and without prior warning turned into a well being, having to draw water from our well to fill bucket after bucket to meet our basic water needs for some time till the plumber would come. I guess my arm muscles and body as a whole got a good exercise till I had filled and taken inside the house enough buckets to be able to take bath, to flush the toilet, to wash our hands and dishes. When the plumber came in the evening, he was welcomed with open arms. And we were glad when he could fix the problem and we could once again enjoy water coming out of the tap when turning it on.
Experiences like that give food for thought.
You suddenly realize how much water is actually needed in a house for basic needs. The most striking realization though is, if I may say frankly, how much water you need to keep your toilet working. When we pull the flush, do we ever think how many liters of water are running through the pipe in that second?
The value of a well as permanent source of drinking water suddenly comes to your mind. For many (middle-class) houses in Kerala still a common appearance, too often their existence is taken for granted. But sinking ground water levels, water pollution etc. are posing a serious threat and make one think for how long these will remain assured sources of drinking water? Those houses without a well have to depend on the reliability and mercy of the public water supply. At least in Kerala, connections don’t provide water 24/7. If you know fixed timings for your area, at least you can fill your tanks. But if taps remain dry without warning for days or weeks, the situation turns grim.
You start thinking about people who not only for a limited time, but permanently have no own water connection in their houses at all. Our well is right next to our house, but people who depend on public water connections or wells have to carry their water distances, often kilometers, liter by liter, bucket by bucket.
Have a sip of coffee!
Coffee, -some people call it the German national drink-, happens to grow in the region of India I have made my new home: Kerala.
In Germany, we love to sit and chat over a cup of coffee for hours. Cafes, therefore, are popular places to hang out. Here, you can catch up with friends and have elaborate conversations, but here, you can also observe lots of things going on around; the café as micro-cosmos offers insights into the ordinary things of life, which make life so special at the same time.
Living as a German in India gives me the privilege to observe numerous things in ordinary life almost every day. Life here is never boring and I enjoy every minute being part of such a vibrant country.
An Indian might not even notice what strikes me here; likewise I might be blind to the extra-ordinary small things happening in Germany day in and day out. So, I take the liberty to collect things happening around me that seem special and interesting to share with others.
I hope the blog will be entertaining and informative for both, people in India and outside. I would like people to keep on mind that I am not only the writer of the blog post, but very often the person to whom the incident behind the post occurred. Therefore, please show lenience in case of any one-sidedness or subjectivity.
Welcome to my little café! Step in, stay for a while, and enjoy reading! It will be great to receive your observations and feedback in form of any kind of comments, ideas, suggestions, criticism.
In Germany, we love to sit and chat over a cup of coffee for hours. Cafes, therefore, are popular places to hang out. Here, you can catch up with friends and have elaborate conversations, but here, you can also observe lots of things going on around; the café as micro-cosmos offers insights into the ordinary things of life, which make life so special at the same time.
Living as a German in India gives me the privilege to observe numerous things in ordinary life almost every day. Life here is never boring and I enjoy every minute being part of such a vibrant country.
An Indian might not even notice what strikes me here; likewise I might be blind to the extra-ordinary small things happening in Germany day in and day out. So, I take the liberty to collect things happening around me that seem special and interesting to share with others.
I hope the blog will be entertaining and informative for both, people in India and outside. I would like people to keep on mind that I am not only the writer of the blog post, but very often the person to whom the incident behind the post occurred. Therefore, please show lenience in case of any one-sidedness or subjectivity.
Welcome to my little café! Step in, stay for a while, and enjoy reading! It will be great to receive your observations and feedback in form of any kind of comments, ideas, suggestions, criticism.
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