Mumbai Mumbai (part 2)

I figured I better finish my Mumbai story before the memories get buried behind my excessive worrying. So December 2...

As I’ve mentioned before, my colleague and I’s goal for attending the conference was to create a manual on male participation in reproductive health but, in relation, we were also to go and observe some of our member association’s (MA) projects. The MA is a leader in the region on SRH and even more specifically, male involvement. My org. can actually thank its some-what subordinate for getting our name on the map. In fact, the specific MA was the basis of my org. - created when a group of “brave and angry” women gathered in Bombay and started the fight for sexual reproductive health and family planning.

Enough history. The MA headquarters was a large and old office (picture any 1 floor long office in the 1950s). We sat and chatted with the essential program managers (well, I should say my colleague did. They didn’t take anything I said seriously – how could an outsider really understand the social-cultural barriers to SRH in this region? Rather then listen to my thoughts on SRH they wanted to hear about how long I was in India, where I came from, if it was cold there, etc.) Throughout the day my label as an outsider stayed with me. Not sure if it’s my issue or “theirs” but it was/is an obstacle. Nevertheless, from then on the day was mind-blowing. First, we went one of the MA’s clinics. It was deserted, old, classic, wooden staircases up to the fourth floor clinic (the lift was frequently out of service. I bit of a trouble for pregnant or in-need women). I have to say compared with some of the hospitals I’ve seen here it was quite sterile…just outdated – peeling “paint” on walls, small dusty-looking lab, an operating room out of the 50s. Spoke with the doctors and staff of the clinic, heard their traditional gender views, pro-sterilization talk, and their pasts at the vasectomy camps. Their strengths (training, experience) and their weaknesses (up-to-date sensitivity on the right’s based approach) were clear. The women lying in the “recovery” room, cot after cot lined up like some cheap version of a king-sized bed, dazed, tired, confused, gazing over their heads at the white curious face peeking in while the “tour guide” rattled on about the greatness of the clinic unconcerned about objectifying the clients. From there we visited a near-by slum to observe a HIV/AIDS project, it was our second choice. The slum we were going to visit was off limits due to a gang rape of a 14 year old girl the night before. We walked past the tin and tarp towards the blue and yellow colourful “heart” of this more “upper-class” slum towards the small cement hut at the tip of the slum which held the project. A group of male “peer educators” perfectly demonstrated putting a condom on a fake penis while informing us of the HIV/AIDS risks and what “high risk” behavior is. My colleague interviewed them in Hindi while I sat colonialist-ic waiting for the interpretation. I have to say that not one of those men looked at me with the sexual interest or the leering of their counterparts in the more “civilized” parts of the city. Then a group of women entered the hut and sat down - much more curious and awed. The project hadn’t advanced as much with the females of the slum and the majority of them had just sat in to see what the “strangers” were doing in this part of town. Here I understood more of the hindi and I was surprised to hear, almost verbatim, statements I have read in case studies. I watched as women shy away from the condoms blushing, I watched them become more comfortable and confess to reproductive health issues, ulcers, pains, STIs. I laughed along with the group as one lady humorously described why there’s no point to handing her condoms since her husband comes home drunk and demanding. How one lady was too scared of (misconceived) stories of birth control methods to try any female-centered BC and rather committed to tending to her seven children. I tried hard not to be shocked or saddened when another woman asked the counselors to speak with her truck-driver husband who would come home and force himself on her daughter. I do have many negative things to say about the project’s work but there’s no need for it. They are helping…that’s all that matters.

There was also a slightly eccentric wild looking woman with crazy curly black hair and an African style long kurta. She spoke perfect English and ran a school for the kids of the slum (as an interesting aside – the school hut had an amazing view of the ocean). The public school that the majority of the slum children attended did not even meet the basic needs of the children as such, this woman would teach these eager children before and after they attended public school. She also taught the ostracized or too-sick children living with HIV/AIDS. She spoke to me about the needs of the people living with HIV/AIDS in the community - The orphans, the fact that none of the members of this community could even hope for some sort of medication instead they were fighting to meet their basic nutritional needs which would hopefully ward off full-blown AIDS for at least a few years. We left the slum stopping periodically to speak with the barbers and shopkeepers who handed out condoms to their customers.

Georgia and I left Bandra for Colaba after a short visit to Juhu beach and sending my colleague off on a plane back to Delhi. Since Georgia attending the conference all weekend I spent a day at Elephanta island in the company of some very sweet “newbie” Australians. The island was beautiful. The blissful carving of Shiva was stunning and the entire island reminded me much of the Ajanta and Ellora caves.


Georgia’s birthday was the 4rth so we attended a cocktail party at the conference she was volunteering at (free wine and beer), got some late-night chocolate birthday cake, and finished the night at a classic “backpackers” pub. The next day I walked around Colaba and hired a taxi to take me to the airport. My cabby talked excessively about his seven children, tried to marry me to his son and spoke about how bad he thought it was for all these Austrialians, Kanadians and Umerican’s to be traveling in boy-girl couples without being married. “you know, they sleep together...in the same bed!”

O.k. I have to do some work. Take care folks and have a great weekend!