Where is your Motherland?

This is the way Indian people ask us where we are from. Not only is this an amusing contortion of the English language, it is a strangely appropriate question given the 'alien' way we often feel here. Yesterday on the way to Calcutta, Ann and I barely make it onto the packed men's car and were pushed into a far corner, shoved between sweaty men, luggage and huge crates filled with vegetables. A man leaned to me and asked where we were going. I told him 'Dum Dum', hoping he would take pity and help us navigate our way off the train. Instead, he turned to his neighbor and whispered 'Dum Dum' and within the next minute we heard whispers of 'Dum Dum' spread throughout the train like a game of telephone. Suddenly everyone had an opinion on our upcoming train exit. 'Move here, go to the front, your stop next.' We eventually made it towards the door, packed like sardines, and a man leans to me and asks, 'Where is your motherland?' I smiled, said America and pulled my body off the train.

Last night we went to the Fairlawn Hotel to celebrate Julia's (a volunteer from Holland) birthday. The hotel is like Christmas in March with bright colored lights, good food, music and BEER! Needless to say, we enjoyed the night out and made it to the train station minutes before a huge rainstorm soaked the polluted night.

This morning was wound care at Dum Dum. There were more kids than usual and we had to buy extra biscuits from a vendor. We made our usual rounds then headed home to organize all of the medical supplies. Yesterday afternoon I started to lose my voice. Always one for a challenge, I figure that it is not enough to not speak Bengali and try to understand health problems in a foreign country, but now I should try to communicate without a voice! Hand motions and facial expressions will have to do....hopefully I will be able to speak again soon.
Katie