As this is my first blog post, I wanted to take a minute before I talk about my experience in India to offer a little bit of my own story outside of what you see on the AIF Fellowship page. I grew up in a New York City apartment. From the time I was able to go out alone, I was out every second that it was possible to be out. I would rush home for dinner. In my household, family dinner was not optional and it served as the foundation of our nuclear family. It was not that I did not have a loving family, I simply found the city thrilling. But I had no money and since all of my friends also lived in small apartments, the only few things we were able to do was to ride the subways, talk, and play soccer. No patch of the city remained unexplored, and we roamed all over.
In a city as diverse as New York, I would meet so many different people, I realized that the key to fit into groups is not to pretend to be like the people you are with, but to authentically live your truth. People can sense if you pretend to be something you are not and it immediately turns them off. People do not ask that you be like them but rather that you be yourself while also respecting the way they live. This belief in authenticity has proved invaluable as I navigate my time in India.
Perhaps the question I get asked the most from my friends in America is if I feel lonely in India. I tell them that that has been by the far the easiest part of my transition to India. I have found myself wrapped in a wonderful quilt comprised of the people I work with and the people of the local community.
At work I often find myself laughing with Mr. Shahnawaz and Mr. Bridesh. Shahnawaz helps out with IT and Bridesh handles marketing and outreach for our NGO through his company. Mr. Shahnawaz speaks no English and my Hindi is aspirational to put it nicely. So Mr. Bridesh serves as a translator.
A favorite joke of mine is asking Mr. Shahnawaz if I should call him “Shahnawaz mama” (my mother’s brother) or “Shahnawaz chacha” (my father’s brother). This joke invariably makes the office burst out laughing. Of course, the humor rests on the vast differences between Shahnawaz and I in real life and the imagined world in which he is my mother or father’s brother. In this way my differences from the larger community are both recognized and celebrated. It is great fun and makes me feel very valued. I feel very lucky to have them both as coworkers.
Yet there are so many other people who I did not mention, it would be remiss of me to do so. One of them is Mr. Sham, the night shift security guard. Mr. Sham had worked in Liberia for ten years and learned English while living abroad, consequently he speaks with a thick West African accent. I found myself sitting in the guard booth about a week into my time in Chachiyawas. It was 8 PM and the sun had long set, the Hindu Pooja was over for the day, and the constant stream of motorcycles had slowed to the occasional rider, his headlights slashing through the complete blackness.
Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Sham grinned at me and asked, “You like Rajasthani food?”, when I replied that I did, he said that I was lying but that that was okay. He was of course right, at that point I was not accustomed to the local food and I was losing weight. Laughing I buried my head in my hands and said, “okay okay I no like”. Laughing he told me not to worry. He further shared that when he arrived in Liberia, he hated Liberian food and also lost weight. He urged me to eat a little bit every day and said that soon I would acclimatize to the local cuisine. Food and the sharing of food is such a cornerstone of Rajasthani culture that to say you don’t like the food is no humor. So, for Mr. Sham to give me the space to articulate my own thoughts while also validating my feelings was extremely valuable. Mr. Sham has proved to be an invaluable resource as I navigate life in my village.
When I explained to the local college students that I ate meat and drank alcohol, it was Mr. Sham who intervened to diffuse the situation, explaining how the American lifestyle was different than theirs. It was Mr. Sham who taught me the rules of cricket and it was with him I watched India lose the World Cup to Australia. I have come to deeply admire his dedication to his family and his commitment to his faith.
As I mentioned earlier I am serving as a Banyan Impact Fellow. In this role I receive a living stipend, medical insurance, and access to counseling services for the duration of my work in India. All of this is public information on our website. What I think is mentioned less is the unique matching process AIF adopts. Through a series of interviews we are matched with a host organization that matches not only our professional interests but our personalities as well. This means that we are likely to be a good cultural fit at an organization. I have certainly found that to be my experience. I do not feel like I am an outlier in my organization, rather at Rajasthan Mahalia Kalyan Mandal, I feel that I am an integral and important member of a team.
I am so thankful to the American India Foundation for allowing me to travel to Rajasthan, without their generous support this experience would have been out of reach.
Yours Truly,
Louis A. Cutter
