Final Days

Monday, Dec. 5 (Continued)

I’m upset and worried tonight. I’ve waited too late to make train reservations. I may have to go to Mumbai several days before my flight. I went to Kundara, and the cyber café was closed. So I took a bus to Kollam. I found only one unreserved berth on a train from Goa to Mumbai on the Internet within 4 days of my flight. I couldn’t go to the train station, because I didn’t have my passport with me. Also, the unreserved berth is a tourist quota one, and I’m not sure if Kollm has facilities for making those kinds of reservations. I will get up early tomorrow morning and go to the train station to see if I can get a ticket. It’s possible that the one unreserved place will be gone by then. I should have made my planning a priority over work here at the school. I’m not sure what the alternatives are for me if I can’t get a seat or a berth on a train.

Tuesday, Dec. 6, Kumbalam

I awoke at 4:30 worried about train tickets. I decided to take an early bus to town to the train station. Joseph and I met in the hallway, and I explained my problem. He assured me something could be done and suggested that I call his travel agent and the manager of his resort. He said I needed to wait until 7:30, however. While waiting, I typed out my preferences for trains and printed it.

The travel agent was no help. He sells only air tickets. The manager said the same thing the travel agent did: The solution is to go to the train station reservation center. However, the manager said he would meet me there at 10:00.

I took the next bus (8:40) to Kollam. It was crowded, so I had to stand the whole way. We were packed like sardines, and the ticket seller kept telling us to move cloer to the front (which, since there was no more empty aisle, means for us to pack ourselves even closer together and lean slightly across people who are seated). We were pressed from all sides. Fortunately, I could stand sideways so that I was pushed against a man who was seated; it wasn’t so claustrophobic, since there was no pressure on my front above the knees. The bumpy ride and the fact that he had a cold and kept dagging his eye with a handkerchief meant that I was bumping his arm and elbow occasionally.

There were 20 people trying to make a reservation at the station. I grabbed four of the forms that must be completed and started trying to fill themout for each of my choices. A man walked up and asked, “Do you remember me?” It wasn’t the manager of the resort; it was a man who registered his two girls at the school two weeks ago. Apparently, the manager had asked him to come there and help me. I didn’t understand at the time how he could do it, but he asked me to come with him and took me to the back through “Do Not Enter” doorways. We sat at a desk and the reservation manager came in and personally helped me. I got exactly what I wanted! (That’s a relief, since the Internet was showing problems with all trains being fully booked.) I was so relieved. Then when we left, Ajith (the man who met me) walked to the parking lot where a government vehicle and driver were waiting. He could do what he did for me because he’s a government official in a higher position than the manager of the reservations center. That’s how things are done in India.

I spent the rest of the day on errands. I went to the cyber café. I stopped at my bakery for a pizza for lunch and to buy sweets (milk candy—like dulce con leche) for the kids’ party Thursday and the teachers’ in-service session on Saturday. I went by the Tangasseri campus to see Rosalind who said she is going to miss me. She said I had been so kind to her, and then she bagan to cry because she again has the pressure of typing tests at night and on the weekend. On the way back to town, I bought leather sandals for Jerry. I went to an ATM for cash. I bought a few Christmas cards at the Catholic Press. Then I caught a bus and was at the campus by 3:30.

I spent the evening writing the cards. The children were so curious. They thought spending 40 rupees (90 cents U.S.) on 20 cards was extravagant. And they are really worried that I will probably have to pay 30 ruppes (69 cents) EACH for a total of 600 rupees (1/3 to 1/4 of a month’s salary for a teacher) to mail them overseas!

In the evening, “Master Freddy” came. He’s the retired principal of the most famous school in Kollam. Joseph is considering hiring him to run St. Joseph’s. Freddy would bring in his own team of teachers and be almost in complete control of the operation—revising tuition, creating a budget, supervising instruction, etc. Joseph would consult with him, manage the continuing construction on campus, come to major events, raise funds, etc. I’m afraid this might be too much of a “no hands on” approach for Joseph, but I’m sure he will be clear about what he expects to be involved in. Freddy wants a 5-year contract. He says he can make St. Joseph competetive with the best.

Wednesday, Dec. 7, Kumbalam

I typed more tests today. Thank goodness there were only 6 of them. Still, it took about 2 ½ to 3 hours. Math and chemistry were the worst with all their formulas requiring special formatting. My biggest problem with doing them is that I resent the fact that either the teachers don’t type them themselves or that Joseph doesn’t hire a secretary to do them.
_____
I tried to mail my cards, but the post office had no stamps. Joseph wasn’t surprised. I was asked to come back tomorrow. I guess they will either bring stamps especially for me or will tell me again that there are no stamps. We will see.

Joseph had dinner with us and he and I talked during it and afterwards. I cautioned him about making an agreement with Master Freddy. He shouldn’t give up too much control to him. What he needs is a principal to work cooperatively with him.

Then we talked about Prameela (and in effect, the state of women in general in India). The woman goes to live with the husband and his family on the day of their marriage. For 18 years, her mother-in-law has lived in the one-room house with her, her husband, and their two daughters. The mother-in-law gets a pension, but she shares none of it with them while expecting them to house her and feed her. The mother-in-law is the ruler of the house. If she gets upset with them, she slaps them (including her son who won’t stand up to her and who says nothing). Joseph says that is fairly typical in India. Also typical is that Prameela’s own family is still in debt from paying a dowry to get her married, so they don’t want her coming back home as an added expense and burden for them. Women get trapped here and are treated almost like slave labor. (I heard the same story two years ago from a woman forced to run a resort while her husband was gone all day. Her family lived far away, and she didn’t get to see them more than once every couple of years.) It wasn’t until Joseph gave her a job two years ago that Prameela realized a woman could work and earn money (and maybe get by without a husband and mother-in-law). Her mother-in-law is upset that she works (but is happy that she gives her husband the money she makes each week). There’s no answer, it seems. Some women commit suicide. The newspaper this morning had the story of a woman setting her mother-in-law on fire because of a long history of disagreements. Women here are a long way from liberation.

Before bedtime we called the Panjim Inn in Goa where I wrote for a reservation but have not heard from yet. They have availability, but I have to call back when the reservations manager is tere. They want advance payment, but the desk clerk isn’t allowed to take credit card information. At least I know I can find a room now! December is the biggest month for tourism in Goa. That’s why I also had trouble getting train reservations.

Thursday, Dec. 8 (Father’s Birthday), Kumbalam

My father is 88 today, I think. Apparently small ceremonies are planned for me today at both campuses, so it will be a special day for me, too. Joseph told me to be ready to leave here for Tangasseri at noon and that we would have to be back to this campus by 3:30 because of things the teachers had planned for me. What I’m really looking forward to, however, is tonight and the small party for the hostel kids. I hope they will like the address books I have bought for them and the activities I have planned. (Some of them asked me to write my address for them two nights ago, so I did. But I have written my address in each address book already.)