Sunday 17 August 2008
Long Time No See!
Apologies for the long gap, I got so caught up having fun that I forgot to write anything. I made a valiant effort at a diary, but that dropped away too as I fell victim to the amazing hospitality of the people I met.
The hospital lies out in the desert 7 miles from Pushkar. The best way to get around is by scooter, like a moped. Although I say best, it it still fraught with hazards of all sorts. Leaving from the hotel you have to take care not to squash the dogs who've come to give you a good send off, then its on to the main road. As I've already said, there's no such thing as "my side of the road" or lanes or any rules other than blow your horn at everything whether it moves or not. So negotiating the buses, lorries, cows, kids, hens, pigs, handcarts, jeeps, potholes, fakirs and anything else which happens to wander by is pretty tricky. Initially I spent a lot of time stopping and putting my feet down, waiting for a space, but as time went on I got a bit braver and did a good Evil Knievel impersonation. After a short stop near the Brahma Temple to stock up on milk (dude), Parle G biscuits ("India rejoices! Less Taxes = more biscuits!") and fruit, it's out into the desert and on to my favourite part of the day. The drive is heavenly, amazing scenery and a different trip each day. The sense of freedom when you ride out with the warm wind in your face, pat the buffalo wallow and into the mountains is so liberating. Sometimes a camel train will pass by with some very wobbly looking riders, there are always herds of goats to try and squeeze past and any children you pass try to high five you as you go, or clutch your clothes, bag, or anything they can grab, a great game to them and a heartstopper for a learner driver!
The desert women walk for miles along these dirt roads in their bare feet with bundles of sticks on their heads, their brightly coloured saris adapted to make a veil covering their head and face. Others carry huge clay pots full of water back from the village well to their houses in the hills. You get the feeling nothing has changed here for a very long time.
Nearing the hospital there is a beautiful little temple at the roadside. The people in this area are extremely poor, and yet they have saved up little bits of cloth to make an amazing flag outside the whitewashed shrine. I was humbled.
Turning into the grounds of the hospital is always fun as the resident dogs come bounding to greet you. These are dogs that were rescued from the streets and treated for whatever medical problems they had but are unfit to be returned to streetlife. Many have a leg missing, others have had distemper and are neurologically damaged, a few are partially paralysed. Others have landed on their feet, arrived as puppies and just stayed! Ginger is the Boss, a big red dog with some paralysis of his hindlegs. Three Wheeler is a popular three legged collie who's always grinning and love attention. He's the big brother. Chitori is a gorgeous sandy coloured girl who mothers everything, including cats, cows and volunteers.
The staff here are a real fun loving band of brothers. Many are related, all are diligent and hardworking. Nadja is the oldest, he makes chai for the whole team every morning. I am often treated to two cups. The boys have difficulty pronouncing "Heather", and also think it is a mans name. There was a Mughal leader called Haider Ali so it is a bit confusing. As I approached the hospital for the first time there was much giggling amongst them, and elbow jostling to push someone forward as a spokesman. It took a bit of translation and an interpreter, but it turns out I walk like a builder or a boxer. Then they decided I was John Wayne. Eventually over the course of a couple of days they settled on a name for me - Pari. It means angel, which is a step up from John Wayne I guess. "Hey Gabriel! Get off my horse!". Maybe not.
The compound has a liberal spattering of livestock, many of whom are missing bits. It is illegal to kill a cow for any reason, including welfare, so if a cow is hit by a truck as often happens, and it breaks its leg then a cast is attempted, if that fails the leg is amputated. There is around a 50% success rate, and you soon get used to the sight of cows hopping about, grazing. There is also a donkey with no foot and another with one ear. As I say, you get used to it....
The kennel block has 60 units, some have 2 or three dogs if they are pals. There is also an outside yard, some dogs don't do well in kennels and thrive better in the kitchen yard.
Its all a bit overwhelming at first, the noise of 80 dogs all barking together is something you feel as well as hear.
The hospital lies out in the desert 7 miles from Pushkar. The best way to get around is by scooter, like a moped. Although I say best, it it still fraught with hazards of all sorts. Leaving from the hotel you have to take care not to squash the dogs who've come to give you a good send off, then its on to the main road. As I've already said, there's no such thing as "my side of the road" or lanes or any rules other than blow your horn at everything whether it moves or not. So negotiating the buses, lorries, cows, kids, hens, pigs, handcarts, jeeps, potholes, fakirs and anything else which happens to wander by is pretty tricky. Initially I spent a lot of time stopping and putting my feet down, waiting for a space, but as time went on I got a bit braver and did a good Evil Knievel impersonation. After a short stop near the Brahma Temple to stock up on milk (dude), Parle G biscuits ("India rejoices! Less Taxes = more biscuits!") and fruit, it's out into the desert and on to my favourite part of the day. The drive is heavenly, amazing scenery and a different trip each day. The sense of freedom when you ride out with the warm wind in your face, pat the buffalo wallow and into the mountains is so liberating. Sometimes a camel train will pass by with some very wobbly looking riders, there are always herds of goats to try and squeeze past and any children you pass try to high five you as you go, or clutch your clothes, bag, or anything they can grab, a great game to them and a heartstopper for a learner driver!
The desert women walk for miles along these dirt roads in their bare feet with bundles of sticks on their heads, their brightly coloured saris adapted to make a veil covering their head and face. Others carry huge clay pots full of water back from the village well to their houses in the hills. You get the feeling nothing has changed here for a very long time.
Nearing the hospital there is a beautiful little temple at the roadside. The people in this area are extremely poor, and yet they have saved up little bits of cloth to make an amazing flag outside the whitewashed shrine. I was humbled.
Turning into the grounds of the hospital is always fun as the resident dogs come bounding to greet you. These are dogs that were rescued from the streets and treated for whatever medical problems they had but are unfit to be returned to streetlife. Many have a leg missing, others have had distemper and are neurologically damaged, a few are partially paralysed. Others have landed on their feet, arrived as puppies and just stayed! Ginger is the Boss, a big red dog with some paralysis of his hindlegs. Three Wheeler is a popular three legged collie who's always grinning and love attention. He's the big brother. Chitori is a gorgeous sandy coloured girl who mothers everything, including cats, cows and volunteers.
The staff here are a real fun loving band of brothers. Many are related, all are diligent and hardworking. Nadja is the oldest, he makes chai for the whole team every morning. I am often treated to two cups. The boys have difficulty pronouncing "Heather", and also think it is a mans name. There was a Mughal leader called Haider Ali so it is a bit confusing. As I approached the hospital for the first time there was much giggling amongst them, and elbow jostling to push someone forward as a spokesman. It took a bit of translation and an interpreter, but it turns out I walk like a builder or a boxer. Then they decided I was John Wayne. Eventually over the course of a couple of days they settled on a name for me - Pari. It means angel, which is a step up from John Wayne I guess. "Hey Gabriel! Get off my horse!". Maybe not.
The compound has a liberal spattering of livestock, many of whom are missing bits. It is illegal to kill a cow for any reason, including welfare, so if a cow is hit by a truck as often happens, and it breaks its leg then a cast is attempted, if that fails the leg is amputated. There is around a 50% success rate, and you soon get used to the sight of cows hopping about, grazing. There is also a donkey with no foot and another with one ear. As I say, you get used to it....
The kennel block has 60 units, some have 2 or three dogs if they are pals. There is also an outside yard, some dogs don't do well in kennels and thrive better in the kitchen yard.
Its all a bit overwhelming at first, the noise of 80 dogs all barking together is something you feel as well as hear.
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