Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Snaps of Udaipur
My first elephant ride!
Thursday, August 2, 2012
"Women and Other People" by Amartya Sen
Lecture by Professor Amartya Sen
Nobel Laureate in Economics (1998)
“Women and Other People”
31 July 2012 at India Habitat Centre, South Delhi, India
Following our internship programme’s closing workshop, the other interns and I were delighted to learn that the Population Foundation of India was hosting a lecture by Nobel Laureate Amartya Sen in a nearby auditorium. Because my team had presented our case report on ICDS in Assam earlier that morning, I attended the lecture in a traditional sari and was excited for this unexpected opportunity. Professor Sen prefaced his lecture with themes from his previous publications, including the idea that men and women have both congruent and conflicting interests in their pursuit of cooperation. He discussed gaps in female education in India as compared to neighboring Bangladesh, which spends 10% of its GDP on girls education. He explained that the small country has made remarkable progress in combating gender bias, and that there are even more girls than boys enrolled in school in recent years. He compared immunization rates of the two countries: 96% in Bangladesh versus 66% in India. It is not exactly a fair comparison to make as India has nearly ten times as many people as its northeast neighbor, however, lessons can be learned. It is also interesting that he brought up this comparison, considering the fact that Sen’s family originated from the part of India (East Bengal) now known as Bangladesh.
The Harvard professor and senior fellow went on to discuss the decreasing girl to boy sex ratio in India and implications of sex-selective abortion. He explained that states in the East and South are generally at or above the German benchmark of 94 girls to 100 boys, while states in the North and West have worse birth rates in that regard. He closed his lecture and opened the floor for questions with a simple, powerful statement: “We shall never get to the answers unless we start asking the right questions.”
Understandably, the questions directed at Professor Sen were intelligent and far-reaching. One Indian doctor asked for his thoughts on solving female foeticide, to which he frankly responded, “I don’t know.” This was followed by references to traditions in other cultures which have marginalized women but have seen great progress after a kind of tipping point forced the practice out of style. Examples include footbinding in China and FGM in Senegal, which reached 30-40% non-practice, then almost immediately increased to 70-80% non-practice and disapproval by the general population.
Posing with intern friends Subarna and Nadia from Bangalore (left) and our Assam team (right): Martin, Aditi, Thahira and me at the India Habitat Centre in New Delhi.
Nobel Laureate in Economics (1998)
“Women and Other People”
31 July 2012 at India Habitat Centre, South Delhi, India
The Harvard professor and senior fellow went on to discuss the decreasing girl to boy sex ratio in India and implications of sex-selective abortion. He explained that states in the East and South are generally at or above the German benchmark of 94 girls to 100 boys, while states in the North and West have worse birth rates in that regard. He closed his lecture and opened the floor for questions with a simple, powerful statement: “We shall never get to the answers unless we start asking the right questions.”
Understandably, the questions directed at Professor Sen were intelligent and far-reaching. One Indian doctor asked for his thoughts on solving female foeticide, to which he frankly responded, “I don’t know.” This was followed by references to traditions in other cultures which have marginalized women but have seen great progress after a kind of tipping point forced the practice out of style. Examples include footbinding in China and FGM in Senegal, which reached 30-40% non-practice, then almost immediately increased to 70-80% non-practice and disapproval by the general population.
Posing with intern friends Subarna and Nadia from Bangalore (left) and our Assam team (right): Martin, Aditi, Thahira and me at the India Habitat Centre in New Delhi.
Friday, July 20, 2012
On Friendship and a Caterpillar Burn
“Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.” –Oprah Winfrey
Tonight, as we were walking through a congested neighborhood and marketplace in Guwahati called Uzan Bazaar, I felt an unfamiliar burning sensation on my upper back which hit me with a slow intensity. I reached back to see what it was and was even more perplexed, as this thorny burning spread to my hand and the other areas of my neck and back which I had touched. Amidst the darkness and chaos of the street, I stepped aside and asked my teammates walking with me to find out what it was. Thahira reached back and tried to wipe away the yellow powder that had accumulated on my back, and Martin did the same. They reasoned it must be some kind of leaf or plant that had fallen from a tree, but a few seconds later, they noticed that this acute prickly sensation had spread to their fingers as well.
We all tried our best to remain calm, despite my growing sense of panic at the uncertainty of what had at this point spread over my back, neck and hands and seemed to be pricking me from under the skin in hundreds of places. After unsuccessful attempts at using water and clothing to dull the pain, we decided to abandon our usual 40 minute walk back to where we stayed in search of an auto-rickshaw, which could get us home in a quarter of the time (although we weren't sure if heading to a doctor would be the smarter option). Inside the auto, I sat up right, making sure not to touch the back seat or anything to my back or hands. We arrived at our lodging and headed to the common room, where we correctly figured we could find out what to do from some of our local colleagues. After Martin described the incident to a captive audience (four or five people), nearly everyone looked just as confused as us. However one woman, Genny, came forward and told us not to worry; this was caused by a caterpillar-like insect native to Assam that she knew about from her village, which spread its small hairs across human skin upon contact. (What a relief...it was actually a living organism that had spread all over my back? My anxiety increased at the thought). But the remedy was simple: rub human hair over the affected areas to remove the invisible caterpillar hairs.
Before I continue, I must admit that I have been feeling waves of homesickness and longing for both the conveniences and familiarity of life in the US these past few weeks. While I am enjoying the project, my team members and our group dynamic, I have been missing my friends stateside. Outside of my team and our project coordinator, the people I have met in our host institution and where we reside seem cordial, yet dry. Interactions tend to be limited to asking about the present state of affairs (e.g. how is work, how do you like Assam, local food, and other pleasantries) and even extended conversations do not usually develop into much more. My friends in the US are outgoing, charismatic, and lively to be around. This is, of course, my perception, and there are also elements of freedom and security (financial, political, social) that may be very different by comparison and could easily affect social norms and acceptable behaviour.
In any case, what happened next changed my perception of the people I had labeled unexciting, and it made me in some ways re-consider the meaning of kinship and community. After Genny told us the remedy, she offered her help without hesitation, and we headed to my room to treat it. This meant spreading her hair over my back several times to extract the burning caterpillar hairs out from under my skin. And because it had spread so much, we actually required the help of another young woman with longer, thicker hair to assist; before I knew it, my room was like a kitty club of young Assamese women, plus me as the confused Westerner. Even the cook and her young daughter had arrived with special oils and a lime ointment, to apply to my earlobes (??) after the hair treatment, washing and talcum powder had been applied to my back and hands. After all of the commotion died down and the women filtered out, Genny explained that I would be fine and symptom-free within the hour. I asked her what would have happened if I had gone to a doctor instead of coming to them, and learned that I had made the right decision. She explained that most people in Assam are unfamiliar with this rare insect and its treatment; only because she grew up in a rural village did she know. (In other words, the doctor would not have known what to do.)
After this experience, I felt an obvious gratitude and new respect for these women and this community. Their care toward me and personal sacrifice during my time of humiliation and fear was something which I had rarely felt before in my life; only from my parents, siblings and a few very close friends. Experiencing this from people who barely knew me was a testament to their culture’s emphasis on collective responsibility and community caretaking, which could teach us volumes.
We all tried our best to remain calm, despite my growing sense of panic at the uncertainty of what had at this point spread over my back, neck and hands and seemed to be pricking me from under the skin in hundreds of places. After unsuccessful attempts at using water and clothing to dull the pain, we decided to abandon our usual 40 minute walk back to where we stayed in search of an auto-rickshaw, which could get us home in a quarter of the time (although we weren't sure if heading to a doctor would be the smarter option). Inside the auto, I sat up right, making sure not to touch the back seat or anything to my back or hands. We arrived at our lodging and headed to the common room, where we correctly figured we could find out what to do from some of our local colleagues. After Martin described the incident to a captive audience (four or five people), nearly everyone looked just as confused as us. However one woman, Genny, came forward and told us not to worry; this was caused by a caterpillar-like insect native to Assam that she knew about from her village, which spread its small hairs across human skin upon contact. (What a relief...it was actually a living organism that had spread all over my back? My anxiety increased at the thought). But the remedy was simple: rub human hair over the affected areas to remove the invisible caterpillar hairs.
Before I continue, I must admit that I have been feeling waves of homesickness and longing for both the conveniences and familiarity of life in the US these past few weeks. While I am enjoying the project, my team members and our group dynamic, I have been missing my friends stateside. Outside of my team and our project coordinator, the people I have met in our host institution and where we reside seem cordial, yet dry. Interactions tend to be limited to asking about the present state of affairs (e.g. how is work, how do you like Assam, local food, and other pleasantries) and even extended conversations do not usually develop into much more. My friends in the US are outgoing, charismatic, and lively to be around. This is, of course, my perception, and there are also elements of freedom and security (financial, political, social) that may be very different by comparison and could easily affect social norms and acceptable behaviour.
After this experience, I felt an obvious gratitude and new respect for these women and this community. Their care toward me and personal sacrifice during my time of humiliation and fear was something which I had rarely felt before in my life; only from my parents, siblings and a few very close friends. Experiencing this from people who barely knew me was a testament to their culture’s emphasis on collective responsibility and community caretaking, which could teach us volumes.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Weather
Last night I woke up to an earthquake. Guwahati must be on a fault line, because I’ve experienced more earthquakes here in the past six weeks (three, to date) than I have ever before in my lifetime. This most recent event lasted longer than the others. At 1:30AM it shook me awake, I quickly came to my senses, got up and headed to my bedroom doorway. I stood there for a good 15-20 seconds as the building and walls around me shook in slow, deliberate jolts. Then, I heard and watched this force of nature move to the other side of my room by the window, where it continued for another 10 seconds. Mother Nature continued her fury into the depths of the night as monsoon rains began several minutes later, and have continued on and off today.
Perhaps because it feels slower than expected, I’ve never felt scared in an earthquake. Just curious. The other two incidents here in Guwahati were both during waking hours – during dinner my second night of arrival in Assam, and on a Saturday while working in our office a few weeks back. It is exciting to experience these phenomena, but at the same time I feel a pang of guilt for enjoying the heavy rain and quakes from the safety of this solid dormitory. Others face these things head on and suffer from the after-effects, in particular, the heavy flooding which has destroyed thousands of homes and forced families to abandon their possessions and migrate to higher ground, pitching makeshift tents on the side of the road.
Photos below: Flood affected areas in Morigaon
Perhaps because it feels slower than expected, I’ve never felt scared in an earthquake. Just curious. The other two incidents here in Guwahati were both during waking hours – during dinner my second night of arrival in Assam, and on a Saturday while working in our office a few weeks back. It is exciting to experience these phenomena, but at the same time I feel a pang of guilt for enjoying the heavy rain and quakes from the safety of this solid dormitory. Others face these things head on and suffer from the after-effects, in particular, the heavy flooding which has destroyed thousands of homes and forced families to abandon their possessions and migrate to higher ground, pitching makeshift tents on the side of the road.
Photos below: Flood affected areas in Morigaon
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Field Work Highlights
So much happened on our field visits. We met an elephant on the road on the 4th of July, I watched a boy climb a 20 foot fruit tree to retrieve berries presented to me as a gift, and an Anganwadi Centre management committee member insisted that I had the nicest nose she had ever seen (yes, all of these things actually happened!) In Dibrugarh we were particularly impressed with the warmth and hospitality of each centre. At nearly every AWC, we were offered drinking water, tea and biscuits and very often were presented with the traditional gamosa, a hand-woven red and white ceremonial shawl given to esteemed guests. Each village has a distinct pattern reflected in the embroidery of the shawl. The centres are small, similar to a one-room schoolhouse, sometimes with an interior partition used for storage or where a coal stove could go. The extent of hospitality was particularly impressive given that each centre has a miniscule budget with which to operate; nearly all funds allocated by the government are intended for supplementary nutrition or take home rations for the children and families that come to attend preschool or for immunizations, counseling and health check-ups.
In many areas like this, the level of community participation is remarkable, a testament to the investment and genuine concern they have in caring for their children and young mothers. In several centres, community members had come together to build the center a walkway, kitchen, boundary fencing and even a toilet; many also performed building maintenance and would regularly assist the worker by bringing clean water to the AWC every day. Each centre in Assam is meant to have a volunteer management committee, and it was always clear when this group was active.
Days in the field were at once exhilarating and exhausting. Most mornings we left at 6AM and returned between 6 and 8PM, traveling by car long distances through heavy rain and muddy, unpaved roads to meet with eager participants. While I did my best to treat everyone with equal interest and energy, my inner battery usually ran low by mid-afternoon, and we didn’t usually break for lunch until 3 or 4PM. It was disheartening at times to meet with young mothers who had not been adequately counseled on breastfeeding and monitoring their child’s growth status, and to visit centres in Morigaon which had lost all health records and preschool supplies in the recent flooding. On the other hand, I visited several centres that were clean, bright and full of life, where the health worker was doing an excellent job at monitoring child growth, counseling parents, providing regular immunizations and supplementary rations. In a discussion with one centre’s very active management committee, I was pleased to hear them ask for advice on what more they could do to improve the centre and continue to invest in the children of their village.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Birthday (...aka, international love)
“It takes a long time to grow young.” –Pablo Picasso
I’ve had the good fortune to celebrate my past four birthdays on four continents. While it’s hard to be away from family and close friends on the anniversary of one’s entrance into the world, it is also nice to approach the day with no expectations and enjoy whatever comes of it. What follows is a short reflection on how my June 20th on each continent unfolded.
2009/24 years – Kigali and Nyamata, Rwanda, AFRICA: Summer Saturdays in Rwanda that year meant Indian barbeques. Our small ex-pat community was made up of Americans, Belgians, Brits, Germans, Irish, and most notoriously, Indians. East Africa is home to a large Indian population; many of our Indian friends had never lived in India, but grew up in surrounding Kenya, Uganda or Tanzania and now lived in Rwanda, running factories and tech shops in town. This explains the dearth of quality restaurants in Kigali (at least during my stay) except for the 5-6 amazing Indian restaurants. And the omnipresence of samosas, chapatti and ichayi...I actually had better Indian food on my birthday in Rwanda than this year’s in India. Indian barbeque translated into kebabs of tandoor chicken, paneer and my favorite capsicum (green pepper) and onion grilled to perfection, coupled with a chandy: cold Rwandan Mutzig (beer) mixed with Fanta citron. (For the record, this drink looks gross but actually tastes great, especially when it is the only way to make a “mixed drink” due to lack of other mixers). As if attending an Indian barbeque with Kigali ex-pat friends was not enough of a celebration, the party re-commenced in Nyamata that evening with a surprise visit from my friends Louise and Irani, who came bearing a round, frosted butter cake from a French pastry shop. To top it off, my Rwandan students even remembered, and proceeded to cover me in paper confetti , sing happy birthday and present me with cards that have kept me smiling for years to come.
2010/25 years – Boston, USA, NORTH AMERICA: Although I spent most of 2010 in Rwanda, I was stateside for the summer months and spent the eve of my 25th birthday out to dinner with a handful of close friends and my sister at a favorite Greek restaurant. It was a beautiful homecoming, and especially marvelous to see my dear friend Alison 9 months pregnant (her now 2 year old daughter MacKenzie was born 5 days later!) After a lovely night out with friends, I spent Sunday June 20th relaxing by the water, eating watermelon and strawberry shortcake with my family at the Camp, reminiscent of most of my childhood birthdays at this special place where my grandparents lived during the summer months.
2011/26 years – Roma, Italia, EUROPA: Tanti auguri is happy birthday (literally “so many wishes”) in Italian, but it was not what came from the mouth of my 4 year Italian old charge that day. Last summer I worked as an au pair for a family in Rome, and mamma mia, did I have my hands full. The 7 month old baby boy, Federico, required constant attention (feeding, changing, entertaining, rocking to sleep, bathing…you get the gist) and the little wild child, Ginevra, demanded all that and more, with jealousy of her new brother permeating every interaction. Instead of getting into details, let’s just say it was a rough day. Ginevra told me multiple times what she really thought of me (it included the word “brutta”- ugly), the parents arrived home an hour late without calling, and I was effectively late to my own birthday dinner, with my only friend in the city. Thank God for Jessica. After studying in Rome for the past six months, she also had some strong feelings about the Eternal City (eternally sweltering tourist trap was more what it felt like, to me). Her birthday was just a few weeks earlier, so we bought each other dinner at a charming little ristorante off of Piazza Navona, along with an entire bottle of red, dessert and gelati. A perfect ending to a trying day. (As an aside, Italy got much better once I started spending every weekend in a new Italian city. This photo was taken in Florence).
2012/27 years – Dibrugarh, India, ASIA: Like last year in Italy, this year my birthday fell on a regular work day. My team has just begun our field work of visiting two to three Anganwadi (community health) Centres per day in a district where UNICEF has partnered with the Indian government to initialize an accreditation process of such centres. Our field work will take 15 days in total, with 10 spent in a tea plantation region of Upper Assam called Dibrugarh, and 5 in a district in Lower Assam called Morigaon, which serves as the “control” district for our study of the accreditation process. My birthday this year was our second day of field work, with a 7AM departure from our guest house. Both of the centres my teammate and I visited were great; at each, we were presented with the traditional gamosa (hand-woven Assamese ceremonial shawl), smiling children, mangoes and bananas. Following the end of the work day, I talked on the phone to a friend in India and my family in the US, and my teammates crafted a sweet and most fitting surprise: a pre-dinner outing for ice cream.
I’ve had the good fortune to celebrate my past four birthdays on four continents. While it’s hard to be away from family and close friends on the anniversary of one’s entrance into the world, it is also nice to approach the day with no expectations and enjoy whatever comes of it. What follows is a short reflection on how my June 20th on each continent unfolded.
2010/25 years – Boston, USA, NORTH AMERICA: Although I spent most of 2010 in Rwanda, I was stateside for the summer months and spent the eve of my 25th birthday out to dinner with a handful of close friends and my sister at a favorite Greek restaurant. It was a beautiful homecoming, and especially marvelous to see my dear friend Alison 9 months pregnant (her now 2 year old daughter MacKenzie was born 5 days later!) After a lovely night out with friends, I spent Sunday June 20th relaxing by the water, eating watermelon and strawberry shortcake with my family at the Camp, reminiscent of most of my childhood birthdays at this special place where my grandparents lived during the summer months.
2011/26 years – Roma, Italia, EUROPA: Tanti auguri is happy birthday (literally “so many wishes”) in Italian, but it was not what came from the mouth of my 4 year Italian old charge that day. Last summer I worked as an au pair for a family in Rome, and mamma mia, did I have my hands full. The 7 month old baby boy, Federico, required constant attention (feeding, changing, entertaining, rocking to sleep, bathing…you get the gist) and the little wild child, Ginevra, demanded all that and more, with jealousy of her new brother permeating every interaction. Instead of getting into details, let’s just say it was a rough day. Ginevra told me multiple times what she really thought of me (it included the word “brutta”- ugly), the parents arrived home an hour late without calling, and I was effectively late to my own birthday dinner, with my only friend in the city. Thank God for Jessica. After studying in Rome for the past six months, she also had some strong feelings about the Eternal City (eternally sweltering tourist trap was more what it felt like, to me). Her birthday was just a few weeks earlier, so we bought each other dinner at a charming little ristorante off of Piazza Navona, along with an entire bottle of red, dessert and gelati. A perfect ending to a trying day. (As an aside, Italy got much better once I started spending every weekend in a new Italian city. This photo was taken in Florence).
Monday, May 28, 2012
Indian Summer
This summer I will be living and working in the state of Assam, India, as one of 42 UNICEF interns sent to work on a project related to children in the realm of health, emergency, rights or protection. My team's project is public health related, incorporating analysis and process documentation of the Integrated Child Development Services, the Government of India's early childhood health and nutrition programme which has been in operation since 1975. In a team of four interns based in this northeast region of India, we will create of a formal report incorporating assessment of the existing ICDS programme as it is carried out in Assam and make recommendations for improvement based on the findings of our field and desk work research. This report will be presented to UNICEF, government and collaborating NGO officials at the closing workshop in Delhi on 1 August 2012.
Assam is in purple, surrounded by other Northeast Tribal States which border Bhutan and Tibet (mainland China) to the northwest/northeast, Myanmar (Burma) to the southeast, and Bangladesh to the southwest.
Our Assam team at the orientation in Delhi, 23-25 May 2012. UNICEF India interns were selected from a pool of over 400 candidates, all graduate students (Masters/ PhD) from various academic disciplines and various regions of the world, including India, Europe, Africa, North and South America. My team includes myself (MPH candidate), two Indian women and a Bulgarian man, studying nutrition, rural development and global health at universities in Belgium, the US and the UK. Other intern teams of three and four students are working on projects related to social protection, disaster impact, rural planning, urban disease load, police interface, HIV and other topics in the states of New Delhi, Maharashtra, Rajasthan, West Bengal, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Madhya Pradesh.
The entries that follow are in reverse chronological order and detail my first week in India, which I spent traveling around North India to Amritsar and Dharamsala with an American friend. The May 18th Golden Temple entry is my first in India.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Dalai Lama Temple, Dharamsala
These round cylinders are mantras, with thousands of prayers handwritten inside each in Sanskrit and Tibetan letters. Each full clockwise turn of the mantra is said to work the good merit of the prayers. The wheel is an important symbol in Buddhism and elicits the eight fold noble path.
8 Fold Noble Path
1) Right understanding
2) Right thought
3) Right speech
4) Right action
5) Right livelihood
6) Right mindfulness
7) Right concentration
8) Right wisdom
Alisa and Pankoori in McLeod Ganj
Capturing a moment: monks and others washing their clothes in the river, on a hike near McLeod Ganj. Buddhist monks' robes symbolize compassion (red) and wisdom (yellow). "Save Tibet" (partially covered) is written on a rock and is ubiquitous in this part of India.
Friday, May 18, 2012
India-Pakistan Border Ceremony
My second full day in India arrived, and already I had made it to the border of Pakistan. A popular attraction for both Indian and international tourists is to attend the flag lowering ceremony that occurs daily at the Wagah Border, located 30 kilometers west of Amritsar. Since 1959 millions of Indians have frequented the spot, as it is said to be the only road border between the two countries and the only border crossing area which maintains this kind of peaceful display of citizenship. Alisa and I joined an Indian family of five in a shared van to reach the vicinity of the border, with roughly an hour to spare before the ceremony began.
We followed alongside thousands of others for a few kilometers through various disjointed security checkpoints, and were relieved when we arrived near the event stadium and officials ushered us and the few other foreign visitors to a separate section with an enhanced view of both the Indian and Pakistan sides. (As an aside, this was after experiencing a not entirely unfounded fear of being trampled to death by Indian aunties on foot and border security officials on horse, all of whom must have forgotten their manners at the Golden Temple).
Inside the stadium, we witnessed India’s Border Security Force perform exercises, we chanted patriotic slogans (Hindustan zindabad! Long live India), sang along with popular Indian music to include a massive “Jai Ho” sing and dance-off, and watched children run the Indian flag to and from the border in a kind of informal relay race. “Children” should be loosely applied here, as it may or may not have become a participatory event thanks to Alisa’s peer pressure. The moment I joined the line, the guard handed me the flag of India and told me, "Go!" Only when I reached the border did I notice the man carrying an AK-47 to secure Pakistan from intruders. But this helped me to run the flag faster on the way back.
Harmandir Sahib: Amritsar's Golden Temple
Shown above, the inner temple is made up of over 100 kilos (approximately 220 pounds) of gold and includes valuable artwork and precious gemstones and metals such as silver, ivory, pearl and lapis lazuli. Construction began in 1577 and the temple as it presently exists was completed in the late 1700s. The surrounding complex includes a dining hall, able to seat 35,000 people at one time, as well as sleeping quarters. All major components of the inner complex (including dormitories, dining hall and the inner temple) are open and free for all visitors of all faith traditions to enter 24 hours/day, 7 days/week. While many things struck me on my visit, I particularly admired the manner in which people moved in and out of the temple and the dining hall, which was at once inconspicuous, reverent and efficient.
Waiting in line to enter the inner temple took about 30 minutes. We formed a steady cloud of primarily Sikh men women and children but also included some Indian and international tourists. Every person removed footwear and covered his or her head with a scarf, bandana, hat or turban (dastar) upon entrance, and we slowly budged closer to the front as people exited the temple on the other side at their leisure. While it reached well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit by mid-day , we were not uncomfortable due to our position on a shaded strip below large fans. Once inside the temple, I watched one man chanting from the Holy Scripture (Adi Granth), while another played the harmonium, broadcast via speakers across the complex.
Many will present an offering of food like this (procured free of charge at the temple) or leave a donation while entering or exiting the inner temple.
A primary tenant of the Sikh religion is that all people are equal and should be treated as such. Going along these lines, tourists and foreign visitors are welcome to participate in the pilgrimage, meal and site activities as they see fit.
Waiting in line for lunch. Meals are served free of charge around the clock. Simple but filling meal of round wheat flat bread, black lentils in broth and a sweet rice pudding type dish (not shown). Anyone may also assist the hundreds of volunteers washing dishes after people have eaten. N.B. that plates provided were sparkling clean.
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