Better to Banda than to Break

Today was a nationwide banda (strike), meaning all shops were closed, there was no traffic on the roads and basically not a single person in the country was supposed to do any work at all. The reason for this particular one depends on who you ask. Some would say it's because one of the castes is pushing for splitting up the country and preferential political rights for themselves, others might tell you it was to make a statement about what's sure to be yet another failed attempt at having a constitution written by the (latest) deadline, and others still will cite the main reason as a protest against the continued load-shedding issues and constant water and petrol shortages. I have many opinions about each of these, but don't intend to turn this blog political at all so I'll keep them offline. Regardless, nobody seems to mind these strikes all that much because the average citizen views these political matters either with amusement or indifference and it mostly just means an extra day off work where the men can gather and play cards, the women can sit around a gab, and the kids can take over the streets with their games and bicycles without having to jump out of the way of whizzing motorcycles or lumbering buses every few seconds.

For me, the banda was also much appreciated because it allowed us to finally get the last of the organizing and editing done on our English conversation book. It had been a slow process after finishing the majority of the writing back in January and then facing many delays with the typist. It's interesting trying to get some actual work accomplished in a place where meetings or appointments are almost unheard of. We would agree to a time to go to the typist's "office" , but instead of being able to schedule a block of time and being able to count on it to be used for our project alone, the priority seemed to always go to the most persistently obnoxious of people trying to squeeze through the door. Being able to complain and argue your way to cut in front of others in any sort of waiting situation is quite the art form here. Thus, many long evenings were spent sitting in the tiny space jostling amongst others for some attention to be paid to one's own project. For every 3 hours spent there, I'd estimate roughly 40 minutes of the typist's time was spent in discussions about whose work should be done next, around an hour spent on typing some other's work who had come in with the most urgent of pleas, another hour broken up in assorted 5 minute chunks for simple printing jobs from memory sticks thrown in his face (most of which dragged out with fixing printer jams and ink failures), and a mere 20 minutes devoted to our task. So progress did not feel quick and it seemed we only got any work done at all by being willing to stay the latest, well after most shops had closed up.

I apologize, I did not plan to write an entire paragraph on the typist delays, but as I got started I realized it makes for a pretty good example of how differently (inefficiently?) things can be done here. But anyway, today was a banda and no shop was supposed to be open, so all went very smoothly without any interference whatsoever from other customers. We (the head teacher, the typist and I) were able to spend the majority of the day huddled around the computer putting all the chapters where they ought to be and finalizing things like forewords and cover pages. Editing is definitely a long process. But despite being trapped in the 5 ft by 7 ft room with the metal shopfront pulled down tight, the shouts and commotions of the Maoists out in the street with their long sticks as they stopped anyone attempting to go past on a motorcycle, and only a bare bulb casting its artificial glare down upon us (all of which creating a rather prison-like atmosphere), it was a good day and makes me happy to feel like the end of this one project is finally within sight. Barring any unexpected circumstances, which are about 90% likely, we hope to be able to take it to the publisher tomorrow afternoon.

It rained quite heavily today, which I couldn't see from within my closed off windowless cell but could at least hear. This has been happening from time to time now that the weather's getting quite hot and monsoon season is just around the corner. The other day it even hailed along with the big rain and heavy winds. This disrupted classes for about 30 minutes as it became too noisy to hear what even the person right next to you was saying and we all watched from the doorways of our classrooms. But when the noise died down enough to resume teaching, I made my way to class 10 for an English lesson. Here, with the clouds so dark (and remember no lights in the school) that I couldn't make out anyone's face past the second row, I had to stand right beside the window, accepting some splashes of rain on the pages in order to get enough light on the book to teach from. Regardless of the poor visibility, we had a rather enjoyable lesson making up stories and inventing extra details beyond what could actually be seen in the sketches provided. Not being able to see or read easily: just one of the many possible interferences to teaching and learning that I can't say I ever encountered as a kid growing up in my well-sheltered, well-lit schools. But it's remarkable the way a person can become easily accustomed to these things. In fact, I don't think I even recognized it as a noteworthy day until I sat down to write this blog post. Nowadays it takes a bit of brain-wracking to think of what may make for an event of interest as this all feels exceptionally normal to me. Yes, I could be in for quite the shock when my feet once again hit Canadian soil.