To start, I want to thank you all for your support for this unusual project...

Greetings from Mother India's lap. As many of you know I journeyed here in a fog of fear of the 'evil world out there'. Here in the midst of it all, only the present moment is relevant and it is not that different from the one yesterday.

I arrived in Bombay on November 6th, the last day of Diwali (festival of light) which is dedicated to Brother/Sister relationships. Diwali equals in importance here to Christmas in the West. As well lights are strung up in trees and on houses very creatively. Fireworks everywhere, which I am not very fond of. Reminds me of war somehow...

In Pune I was welcomed into S.'s family, her husband and 18year old son. She heads the department of women's health and empowerment of a Ghandi inspired Non Government Organization (BAIF). Ghandi said that only if the poorest are empowered to empower themselves in their agricultural endeavors could India advance as a country. I find people working in this organization very dedicated to their vision. They operate very successfully with many fieldworkers in 9 states. By the way they are funded by CIDA (Canada)!

My 3-day basic workshop with 25 staff and fieldworkers was a great success. An instructor training is being scheduled here in February.

Whilst here I faced my dentist fears and survived 6 sessions (excellent dentist). The rest will have to wait till my return here.

I was spoiled royally at S.'s house with the best traditional Maharashtran meals. I continue working on the art of making chapattis. It looks so easy - but you never know until you try - what an art it is! I'm afraid I was not much help with cooking since all has to be just so.

Next I took a night train to Gujarat (riot affected state), where I was so warmly received by the women of the women's centre in Baroda. They are so open and welcoming that they make me feel like part of the 'family'. They are extremely busy with writing reports, grants, proposals and working on relief and reconciliation for the families affected by the riots.

We had a self-defense workshop with 27 women, many from other help organizations from outlying areas. I had 2 excellent translators, which is so essential for me to stay connected to participants and keeping the discussions as dynamic as possible.

In one of the role-plays they enacted the utmost victimization of a new bride (arranged marriage) in the house of the in-laws. A slave to 5 abusive adults where she barely escaped being burned alive. It was very emotional for all of us. Several women took her place (in role-play) searching for better and realistic solutions.

In this group we had one 'burn survivor'.

In our heated discussion on rape, the women came to some important insights around the 'lasting impact' of rape and why. I find it very moving when they break out in song when the going gets rough on those difficult, taboo subjects. It is such a relief to the mounting tensions.

After the workshop I accompanied 3 women from the centre to Ahmedabad where they presented a proposal to a funding agency to hire 25 more women to do reconciliation for the thousands of families coping with the aftermath of riot violence. Many of these common people (illiterate and unemployed) were manipulated in a very systematic way for political gains. Neighbor killing/raping/torturing neighbors. Unimaginable traumas left in its wake.

Army and police are deployed to keep the lid on violence, especially now before the elections on Dec 12th. Many new Hindu temples have been built to identify the neighborhoods. On the surface things have calmed down, but grief, pain, disbelief and loss of homes and livelihood still make this northern part of the state highly sensitive and explosive.

The countryside between Baroda and Ahmedabad was very interesting. Women tie their saris here differently, many more camel carts than oxcarts, fields of grapes, veggies, many shacks and many poor, but colourful, colourful people. As I watch this, I get bits and pieces of my friends' discussion (they keep switching back and forth between English and Gujarati) on their goals and intentions on how to bring about again the pride of diversity into the neighborhoods. After all this is what India is all about, they feel. How to empower the women is essential.

I am in awe of their relentless energy and drive toward healing the wounds of poverty, victimization and violence.

Our driver performed another miracle in bringing us home alive. We saw 4 major accidents involving overloaded trucks.

Another journey in Gujarat. This time with the same 3 women from the centre and Cinduben (a slum dweller, 'untouchable') and her daughter. We are accompanying them to another town to get justice in a dowry case. In short: Her daughter was married at 16 (arranged) to a boy of her caste. They gave dowry worth about $700 to the boy's family. She moved in with the in-laws. 2 months later boy brings home a tribal girl he likes better. Her mother (Cinduben) brings 'Wife' home, but they want their dowry back. Complaint had been filed with the police. It is thought that a foreigner as a witness could be helpful so I come along. At the 'women's cell police station' (taking women's complaints) we are welcomed by the women officers with smiles and politeness. We are given priority over other people waiting in line. We are served chai (which we share with Cinduben and daughter). We (not 'slum dwellers') sit around the table and the file is looked at and it is decided we will go to 'boy's' house with a police officer. All 8 of us, including the charming police officer pile into the car. We laugh and joke about self-defense, her training with guns, etc. We arrive in slums and a huge crowd surrounds the cab. 'Our officer' instantly changes into a furious cop, claiming her power position. Pointing finger, yelling put-downs. We all pile into the tiny shack occupied by parents, daughter and family and 'boy' and pregnant tribal girl. Somebody brings me a chair (embarrassing...). The high pitch yelling between officer, mother-in-law, sister and Cinduben make my head throb. The tribal girl crouches behind a chair like a terrified deer.

My job is to take pictures as evidence for the women's centre (uncomfortable role). Now a screaming match between women's centre women and cop. Eventually it ends with M. writing down the verbal agreement of 'boy's' commitment to pay back dowry in a month. It is signed with fingerprints (illiterate). Now all involved back to police station to take down the statement. Officer rides back with A and me. She tells us she likes my and her disposition. N. and M ... she makes a face... Of course, they had matched her energy in countering and voice volume. At the station she is a charmer again, winking at me... 2 more power struggles as M. corrects their reports (leaving out little details that would make big difference for our slum girl). Finally all is agreed and we depart relieved after this 5-hour ordeal. I realize how these illiterate women would never have seen any justice without this support. What will happen to this girl now? Nobody will marry her, means no social status. Her mother, Cinduben, impressed me with her self-confidence and pride and sense of justice. She is a rag (garbage) picker.

M. and N. took the train back and N. and myself continued to spend the night at her friend's (63), who is a Ghandian activist and retired teacher. The next day we drive through the mountains of rural Gujarat, where very poor tribals live. They do not even speak Gujarati but their tribal tongues. School is an new concept here and this woman has instigated several schools in this region.

We visit one residential school of hers. Very isolated place where 70 girls and 90 boys from the poorest families live in a beautiful green garden. The classrooms are so simple: empty cement rooms where they teach and at night they pull out the thin mats I see in the corner and sleep here. About 35 to a small room. Sweden has been funding this project but they are fading out. Therefore they are in financial crisis. $100 Cdn would sponsor one child for a year. I was very touched by these kids and teachers. So incredibly humble and dedicated. If anyone is interested in supporting these children, please let me know. It is a worthwhile cause, believe me. You do know where the money goes!!!

As we leave we come by a carpet station out in the open. It looks like a big stand up loom, 2 of them actually about 4 feet apart. A man sits in the middle and calls out something that sounds like in a chant while 6 girls' hands fly by his instructions. I could not see how they made their knots; their hands were so fast. I am told that there used to be 35 such carpet stations employing these young girls. They make $1 to $2 a day, which feeds their family in the dry season when the fields are empty. They had initiatives where they would work a certain amount of hours and then go to school for 2 hours a day. Or some cases one child would work and 3 siblings could go to school for it. Foreigners came and banned this child labor, without offering alternatives!!! Now there is no food for the families in these extremely isolated areas. Bread first! they tell me. Now instead of 35 carpet stations there are only 3 left.... An example of foreign intervention, I am told. The girls smile and giggle, as I wave good-bye.

Next we visit the place where we will hold the instructor training. An elderly couple(well known poet and authors), also Ghandian followers, have this space in the mountains. In the mornings there is a clinic here for the locals. Very nice energy and I think it will be perfect. It is simple and in beautifully kept gardens.

I am praised on how adjustable I am. They tell me why: I eat as they do, with my hands, sitting on the floor, I listen and stay present, even though I do not understand the words only the energy, and I sleep and bathe and dress as they do. Only the water I am offered I have to reject (I purify my own water with drops). I am amazed how exhausting it is though when my mind gets less engaged in conversations. I take in lots in other ways though.

Now am in Delhi. My friends are very busy with activist activities these days. Last night on Dec 6th I was part of the peace march. Following a 'Muslim coffin' and a peace banner. In rows of 2's we all held candles and chanted slogans. Some handed out flyers to waiting cars and buses.

For a few nights I stayed in the YWCA dormitory, where I met a Muslim woman from Bangladesh, a woman from Kashmir, another from South India and one from Brazil. We became instant 'family' and our talks on politics were not what you hear on the news.

Then I did a refresher course at Saheli's yesterday. Tuesday I will take the train to Rishikesh where the 12-day instructor training starts on the 15th in an ashram by the source of the Ganges. I look forward to this.

I hope you all are well. Do stay in touch!

Gitta