Field Study

Wednesday/Thursday I began my field study. We drove in a car caravan of doctors to the outposts located at different slums in Kolkata. First we visited some of the slum homes. 24 people lived in quarters the size of my living room. They all shared the same squat toilet, siphoned the same water from the rusty pipe sticking out of the concrete floor (but the water only came on 3 times a day) and cooked their meals on that very same floor. 

 Almost all of the patients we visited either were recovering from or previously had cholera. I felt such a strong connection to the women and children we visited. Many with skin lesions and cross eyes would peek around their scarves to look at me like curious woodland creatures. When I brought out my camera, they all ran away, but when I surrendered the clicker hands up, they came creeping back, babies first. I took a picture of the house and showed it to them. And then a few more. Soon all the women and children were back wanting me to take a picture of them and then show them on the LCD screen. The trick was to take a second picture 2 seconds after the first, when they started laughing from the novelty.

 After when I asked them (with the help of a translator) about their medical history and treatment, they gladly offered their answers. The cholera vaccine is in phase 3 of its development. A phase that requires the testing on thousands of patients. The clinics set the double blind study up giving every patient that came in the vaccine (half were placebos) regardless of ailment, treated whatever they came in for, and then followed their progress over 3 years. The patients they see have every kind of ailment under the sun: Cholera, Dengue, Malaria, Tuberculosis and Leprosy are just a few. India is one of the few countries in the world that still has Polio. MDR (multiple disease resistance) is a huge and deadly problem because the pharmacists give many antibiotics without prescription and then people feel better and stop taking the medicine. Many of the patients don’t understand why they have to give blood or take the vaccine. The doctors bribe them by giving out gifts to every patient. To get the neighborhoods to trust them, they paid for the repaving of many of the slum roads. They still have problems with Muslim women not wanting to be touched by any doctor (male or female) and the doctors unfortunately have given up on many of these women saying “we have enough patients, if they don’t come in then that’s their problem.” The outpost clinics consist of an old computer, a few cases of vials of medicine, a crumbling examination table with makeshift curtain (some have no curtain) and way too many people. I sat with a beautiful doctor in his mid twenties who was doing a separate project, taking blood samples from dengue patients to try and find a vaccine, and talked with him. Actually, it was more like me asking a million questions a second and him graciously answering. I watched him take blood from a woman and process the blood with only thin plastic cafeteria gloves. Her baby was given to a male staffer and looked petrified. I wanted to hold that baby. I wanted to do anything. The time we spend out on the field is only a few hours a day—everyone is afraid I will catch a disease if I stay any longer. It’s so frustrating. When I’m in the clinic all of the troubles of India just vanish. This is worth it. I could do this every day all day for the rest of my life. So what if I get sick? I’m an American they can fix me. Let me stay here, watch more, work here. Maybe that’s a boldness from my undeveloped frontal cortex. And in reality it’s probably selfish of me to want to stay, when I can’t really help, and if I did get sick those doctors could get in big trouble and maybe lose their funding. But regardless the outposts make sense to me. One of the few things in India that does.

Henna and Imambara

Sunday After a lazy day of catching up on sleep, Moumita picked Michael and I up to go to Gariahat with the sole purpose of getting Henna on my hands. On the street I saw a woman give me a double take, not uncommon, but realized it was Jyodi the girl I met on the bus! We talked for a while, I introduced her to Moumita, and we exchanged emails since Michael’s phone was stolen. It was night, and we stopped under a lit cluster of chairs on the sidewalk. I looked up a design in a book and two men took each hand and rapidly made the design spread to both underside and top of my hand to mid arm. So cool. I feel like a pretty pretty princess. 

 Except now my watch looks really out of place, so I took it off. Not knowing the time is not only going to take a toll on my sanity, but my lab co-workers (the lab has no timers) always ask me to time experiments—most do not have watches of their own. edit:: Practicality won over vanity and I now wear my black swiss army watch over my henna.  Monday/Tuesdsay Dr. Duran came from the HHMI program at UF to check up on Michael and I and see how we were doing. We took off Tuesday to show Dr. Duran around. Even though we left an hour early to meet the driver and car hired by the Institute, in typical Indian fashion, we were still an hour late to pick Dr. Duran up at his hotel. We rushed to a meeting with the head of Fullbright Scholars in India. After introducing our projects and ourselves, we were asked to participate in helping mentor Fullbright Scholars from India. Before we left, Michael and I were invited to attend a cultural performance at the center the following night. Back in the cab and after a quick stop to grab sandwiches and delicious delicious non instant coffee at Barrista (the Starbucks of India), we made our way on the winding 2 hour road out of Kolkata into the town of Hooghly. In the car ride, besides of course looking out at the emotionally beautiful Indian countryside, I was able to pick Dr. Duran’s brain on graduate school and Public Health Programs. He gave me invaluable advice, contact people and encouragement. Just last year I would never have been able to put myself out there like that, asking for help from such an important person. But I’ve grown a lot, and maybe it’s India, but I know what I want now and the dream has solidified into a very real goal. The first sight we visited was a church built in the 1500s. We climbed to the roof and lit candles. Even the Christian church had a sense of Hindu culture to it, everything was out in the open air, even the altars had windows that were not smothered in stained glass. We sat in the garden and discussed our impressions of the trip so far and what we think could improve further student trips. It was nice to hear Dr. Duran legitimize some of my feelings of loneliness and displacement. We are the first students to go on this trip and it was very much up to us to pave the way. Then our driver, who at this point had become a friend, negotiated a boat ride to the famous Imambara mosque. In the boat, we passed Indian cowboys herding and washing their cows through the Ganges. The cows would swim and the men would hold onto the cows or even ride them. Of course, my camera died in my bag. The mosque was like an abandoned palace: gorgeous faded murals, crumbing pillars, a dark hall saturated with low multicolored chandeliers. I covered my head with my Dupatta (salwar scarf) and took off my shoes. When the huge belltower would chime, pigeons would circle up out of their perches and cover the sky. I went up the million stairs in the minaret (ladies side of course) and passed the large bells and up to the tip of the tower; I could see all of India. If the stairs hadn’t already taken my breath away the view would have punched it out of me. Back in Kolkata Dr. Duran picked up his handmade suits on Park Street. So, if anyone wants a customized tailored suit for $100, send me your measurements. For dinner, we went to a highly recommended restaurant Peter Cat and found it eh. Just after we dropped Dr. Duran off, I had a little panic attack. I couldn’t believe he was leaving to go home and I was still here in this dark and confusing country for another 5 weeks. I love India but the time here is very trying and difficult. The intensity of feelings passed but the residue still lingers.

Temples along the Ganges

Saturday Moumita and I took the long and bumpy bus ride to see the temples that line the Ganges River. At noon when we arrived, all the temples were closed. So we sat by the riverbank, drank cha and watched people bathing in, throwing flowers into, and worshipping the Ganges. 

 We took lunch at a house near the Kali temple. We sat on a long mat side by side other worshippers (all men) and were ladled food from large metal buckets. Moumita told me I had to finish everything on my plate as a sign of respect. I waddled out of the house ready for a nap—we hadn’t even begun. We packed onto a very simple wooden boat and went down the Ganges river toward a Ramakrishna mission. 

 All along the river, people climbed down steps leading directly into the water, bathed, and washed their clothes. Little boys dove down to catch the coins people threw for good luck. When we reached the mission, we were still too early so we sat on the steps and ate a very bitter fruit covered in Indian spices out of a newspaper cup. It started to storm and everyone crammed into this little atrium. But I stood out on the steps under an umbrella and watched the river be broken up by the rain. When it stopped, we walked to the gates and took off our shoes. All of the temples had large windows that looked out onto the Ganges. Monks and disciples walked around and families sat on the beautiful grounds in humble silence. It was the most beautiful place I’ve seen in Kolkata yet. We crossed the river once more and head to the Kali temple. Kali, or the destroyer, is the god most worshipped by Kolkata. It is said, one day when Kali was fighting with demons, she lost her pinky finger and it fell in Kolkata. Before we could enter the temple, Moumita had to buy a puja (worship) basket. It consisted of sweets, fresh flowers and incense. The Kali temple was packed and we pushed our way to the window. Inside a scary Kali (with decapitated heads in hand and blood dripping from tongue) was covered in flowers. Men would stick their head out the window and take the puja baskets. “My name’s Moumita,” she said over the crowd and a man roughly threw some flowers at the statue mumbled “Moumita,” handed the basket back to her and rushed her to move on. It was very spiritual and personal. :-p It reminded me of confession. Next to the temple a large hall of people sang worship songs accompanied by sitar. Back on the riverbank, we walked through a market and saw Monkeys just chilling. I almost hit my head when I lay down for the night I was so tired.

Week Posts

Thursday The night before, the caretaker of our building brought a woman before Michael, making sweeping gestures with his hand saying “clean for you?” The next morning the woman came back, not knowing a word of English, and managed to convey pretty clearly she couldn’t clean if we didn’t have things for her to clean with. Woops. We are still so young in so many ways. This city gets me kind of crazy. Drivers have a switch on their dashboard to blow the car horn constantly so their fingers don’t get tired. Everyone and everything is so dirty and pissed off looking. I miss the village. We have this one calculator in lab. Its very small and solar powered, with a push pad not buttons. When working with light sensitive chemicals, we turn the light off. Then we have no calculator. We have to take the calculator out in the hall to use it. Something really disturbing has been going on in lab. I have noticed people dumping out their vibrio cholerae cultures right into the sink, which leads right into the lake. It’s shocking. Not wanting to disrespect the older students, (which is everyone—I’m at LEAST 4 years younger than everyone in the lab) I’ll tell them that I can wash their dishes and make a big flourish of adding Lysol and letting the flasks sit first. Maybe they’ll learn? If I see it again, I will say something. As I previously mentioned, I added a second project to my workload. Now I don’t have a single second in lab to think or eat or breathe. It’s so fun. However that means my blog updating, and GRE studying have been suffering. Oh well. Instead, I’m running around the lab isolating RNA at the same time as I am making bile concentrations. Doing an RT PCR at the same as I am making up new cultures. Doing a PCR from the results at same time I am running the gel from another PCR. All while watching and taking notes as Moumita does the fusion PCR. It’s delicious. My taxi driver asked me to take him to America. “I love Jesus,” he promised. Many people have asked me “Is India changing your life?” It really is. But not in a “Eureka!” type way. It’s been slow and beneath the surface. But I’ll never be the same. Friday Instead of talking to Sir about traveling, I went to ask if I could have time off to go help those in South India devastated from Hurricane Isla. A team (unbeknownst to me) from the institute went 2 weeks ago and maybe next time I could join them. While repeating he really appreciated the thought and motivation, I would never in a million years be allowed to go on a relief trip—I am way too young. However, I definitely need to travel and told me to take off a whole week of lab! He then proceeded to plan the entire trip, revolving around Delhi. I do not want to go to Delhi to see an even bigger city with even more “sites.” I do not care to go to Agara to see the Taj Mahal. No interest. I want to go somewhere completely different. Where like the village, I’ll be able to absorb the culture from the people, not from the attractions. And have decided to go to Rajasthan. I haven’t told Sir. The other students in the lab collectively decided I was a very fast and efficient scientist. They can’t believe how much I get done in a day. Every time anyone mentions doing a task, they’ll say, “you better have Chelsea help you, she’s faster than you.” They’re so blunt. I was told by two people “Michael has acclimated to India so much better than you.” What does that EVEN mean? I’ve had a growing revelation that I want to become an OBGYN. Women have been such an integral part of my life—they’ve raised me, taught me, understood me. And I understand them. The women I’ve met here have taught me more about India than weeks of living here. They’re full of pain and neglect. They give up every part of themselves for their children. Their looks and body language are universal. Child perched on swaying hips, eyes wary, feet hardened. There are very few gynecologists in Kolkata and they’re all men and only treat severe cases because of the shortage. Neurology has always fascinated me, but it never ignited a passion or felt like a purpose. I need/want/need to help these women.

More thoughts

Tuesday I had some kind of courage in lab today. Moumita planned a 13-hour day for us in lab. And that was if everything ran smoothly, which is an anomaly in research. So I was all “no.” I wasn’t exactly that sassy, but instead figured out a way to cut the day in two. It was a proud moment. Then I talked to Sir about adding another project to my workload so I am not always waiting around for PCRs to finish. After brainstorming, we decided to test cholerae growth under different environments such as different concentrations of bile in the media (the project I’m working on now), different lake’s water from around Kolkata and starch concentration. All concentrations used try to mimic the actual situation. For the different bile concentrations tested, I found the actual different percentages of bile found in the human intestine! For starch concentration variations, we will boil a potato to mimic actual food consumption. I have a dilemma about taxis. I have almost entirely given up on buses. Because: you’re packed in so tightly by the time you reach your destination you are drenched and grumpy, you have to be on guard for pick pocketers constantly (Michael got his cellphone stolen today), and the total trip including waiting time can take 15-30 minutes longer than a taxi. The problem with a taxi is it cost roughly $3 per trip, $6 a day and therefore $42 a week, besides my exorbitant rent this is my single most expensive expense. I could hire a driver. But: I would need to either leave at the same time every day (it’s not possible to know when I’ll finish work) or buy a cellphone to call the driver. However in the end it would be cheaper than taxis. But am I really going to go to India and hire a driver? Really? Thoughts? Wednesday None of the workers in the canteen speak English. I rely on Moumita to translate my order to them. Almost invariably, my order will be wrong. It makes me wonder how much Moumita actually understands me. I came in before everyone else (as usual), worked like crazy and finished all of my experiments at 3:30. Instead of letting me leave early, Moumita put me to work doing little tasks like filling tip boxes and making solutions. I have no problem doing these things, but it’s really no motivation to work hard and be efficient. I taught Sreelupa and Moumita how to play solitaire. Now they fight over the computer when they have a free moment. After work, I decided to go to the mall near my house to buy some groceries and walk around. I have been tearing through books and ran out of all the reading material I brought and have since bought. I went to the bookstore and bought Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie. It’s about India’s independence—I hear amazing things. I’m so excited! I went to a sports store and bought a jump rope. Besides the bike ride in the village, I haven’t done any sort of exercise since I left the US. I think my muscles are atrophying. In reality, it’s 115 degrees in our apartment and it was probably just an impulse buy. I’ll be very proud if I use it. I went to Big Bazaar to get some food and forgot Wednesday is sale day. The store was so packed I could barely move. When I saw the line, disorganized and 7 x a million people thick I put down my basket and left. Instead, I walked the distance from the mall to the crossing stopping at all of the vegetable and fruit stores lit by candlelight. I pushed my way to the front and stood next to the serious business mothers. A smile at them was all it took for them to all help and fight with the shop owner over lower prices for me. It was awesome. For dinner, I ate a mango the size of my head.

The trip to Shubrutu's village

Saturday We got to the bus station an hour before it was to leave so we would be guaranteed a seat on the long drive. I wasn’t complaining, all around me people were living on the street—their lives covered in tarps. On the bus, I sat in the Ladies Section pressed against a window. The old woman sitting next to me would sporadically grab my wrist, scaring the shit out of me, to look at the time. Once we got out of the city, India was a different world. Women and men bent over the vast rice patties, cows had rule and the sun was low and red. People lived in grass huts and pumped water from wells and had no electricity but the crazy thing was everyone was so happy looking—completely peaceful and settled.  

We arrived at the village in the dark. The village clustered around a main brick road busily surrounded by all of the shops and markets. We walked through the quiescent night to the house using a torch to see, down twisting dirt paths and a lake. The house is situated in a circle around a large open courtyard, which contains the latrine (squat toilet with shower head), kitchen and large table to eat big family meals. The family consisted of a grandfather, 3 brothers and their wives and children. It was busy and warm. It also made me feel very homesick—a feeling I couldn’t shake for a lot of the weekend. I should give myself a break, this is some first trip away from home: very poor country, on my own, long hours, an apartment far away from everyone, incredible cultural divide. It’s not easy. 

 Immediately after I got there and after I had given my two boxes filled with Bengali sweets to Shubrutu’s mother as thanks, we were sat down and served cha and samosas. Oh dear god they were good. In a typical Bengali fashion, only until after we were fed were we introduced to everyone. Michael and I did not stay in the house but in a guest lodge. As much of an experience it would be, I was thanking god I would not have to use that latrine. The guest lodge rooms had a lot of windows, a mosquito net and a very very large lizard. We explored the town with Shubrutu and visited his 2 uncle’s electronic shops. There was a power cut and the stores switched to candles. When we went back to Shubrutu’s house a fabulous dinner was laid out by candlelight. Duck eggs, fresh salad, Roti, Dal, Mutton, sweets, it was the best food I’ve had in India yet and it was all prepared by the women of the household. But the food was just for laid out for Michael and me. The rest of them sat or stood watching us as we ate, waiting for our reactions. It was incredibly uncomfortable but I knew from my large family of food lovers not to leave them hanging so I proclaimed and talked about the food after every bite. When we got back to the lodge, we hung our mosquito nets and treated them with mosquito repellent, and the sheets, and put in a mosquito repellent wall plug and covered ourselves in mosquito repellent, turned on the fan, opened the windows and went to sleep. If I’m not going to get malaria, I’ll definitely get cancer. I woke up several times throughout the night with the gripping feeling I couldn’t breathe and was underwater—the humidity was that bad. Sunday/Monday I lay in bed for 15 minutes before getting up Sunday morning. For the first time I felt like I was in India. The mosquito net was moving with the fan and the windows were open letting in the sounds of a symphony of birds. I could smell smoke from shops opening and starting to cook. We walked to the house and ate a breakfast of duck eggs, toast with jam and cha. Shubrutu brought us out bicycles and we went on a bike ride to a nearby village to visit all of the local temples. I have never been happier. This is the way to see India. Down a thinly paved road we passed farmers starting their day, women with large pots on their head to bring water from the well, other bicyclists and people bathing in the many lakes. We visited several temples and I took many pictures. I feel the pictures may capture the deep sense of tradition and vibrancy that maybe my words cannot. We stopped and sat by a lake passing around a mango and watching people bathe and rest in the shade. 

 On the way back I maaay have almost passed out from dehydration/the sun. It was so hot the rest of the day went like: rest, lunch, rest, small outing, rest, dinner, rest, sleep. Our lunch was another feast, which I have posted and labeled on my flickr. I know I’m talking a lot about the food, but I’m almost not talking about it enough. It is so relevant. After we took lunch, the women invited me into their room and the cousin, who was obsessed with me, performed all his tricks while his mom egged him on. “No, no it’s TWINKLE little star. Try again.” Ahhh family. 

 After our lunch rest, we took the bikes over to a big field outside a school. I was the only woman on the entire field. Michael went to play soccer with some other boys/men. It was funny to watch them dribble around cows. I just chilled, read my book and watched the game. The boys were completely infatuated with Michael and kept asking him for his number and “do you like me?” The game went into the dark night and then broke up into little circles of boys listening to music or playing cards or talking all by candlelight. 

 Our huddle listened to Michael Jackson on a cell phone. It was a really bizarre tribute. Earlier, I became completely obsessed that the village had many King Cobras just slithering around. I was determined to see/catch one during the day, but when I found out the field we were sitting in, in the dark, was right near a nest I was less eager. The boys kept scaring me…they didn’t know my name or “hello” but they did know the words “KING COBRA!” Nice. When we got home after dinner there was a power out which was impossible to sleep through. Then we woke up at 5:30 in the morning and got to the bus station, and into lab at 9 for a full days work. I was in a dream state all Monday. Which may be why I dropped my camera, broke it and as a result had to go to a Canon repair store (I found them! I found the people you talk to on the electronic help lines! They’re at 3 Shakespeare Sarani Road!) and pay $120 for them to fix my camera. 

Friday

Feeling stressed about lab, long distance relationship issues and not getting much sleep or feeling that well made me take a mental health day. I stayed in, returned emails, read, wrote, slept, and watched Ocean's Eleven. All in the AC. It was decadent.

I was invited by a guy in my lab, Shubrutu, to spend the weekend at his parent's house (with Michael) in a village near Kolkata. We're leaving by bus tomorrow at 3pm and it will take us about 4 hours to get there. I can only imagine what's in store for us. I am going to pack for camping. We'll be returning Monday early morning and going straight into lab. I'll update my blog as soon as I can.

!!!!!