That’s the way the money goes…
POP goes the weasel! Well, pop goes the bubble of friendly India at any rate.
27th DECEMBER
Actually, my first taste of this was yesterday, as I was getting into the taxi to take me to David and Anjali’s. I was the other side of some pavement railings getting into my taxi and as I stood up to hitch my rucksack over my shoulder someone squeezed past behind me who I had not seen. My elbow caught him square in the face, over the eye. Thankfully there was no blood, but he was obviously hurt and I immediately apologized in Hindi and in English. He first turned to his friend to ask if there was any blood, then turned to me, snapped in Hindi and slapped down my apologetically outstretched hands; then he pushed me. My first thought was “Uh oh, this guy is going to pick a fight” followed by a surge of adrenalin. Thankfully he contented himself with another tirade of Hindi and a further slap of the hands. I was able to get into my taxi and move on.
The following day, having had a pleasant breakfast at David and Anjalis, I took a taxi to KEM hospital, (one of the places I was thinking of studying if Lok fell through) to get a basic anatomy text book. When I got there, the meter on the cab said Rs 92, which means you pay around 100-105 as they have a slightly revised rate (on a yellow card). The driver turned round and said “250 rupees”! I laughed and asked for the yellow card and pointed out that the fare was in fact 105 rupees and that was all I was going to pay him. He grinned and said “150 Rs” but I paid him the fare and got out. He laughed and drove away. All very good nature banter, but it heralded the start of a day that meant to continue as it had begun. When I finally found the book, I took a cab back to Colaba causeway in search of Leopolds – a good place for a quick bite to which I will take you. As I got out of the cab I was leaped on by 3 street kids who were begging for money not food. They looked so wretched and ragged. I decided to try and help, and offered to buy them something to eat. I went to a small street stall holder and asked him to please feed the kids and I would pay. They asked for condensed milk which he gave them 2 tins of – one 300 mls tin and one 500 mls tin. When I asked him how much, he said “450Rs” the equivalent of six quid. I said “Come on, it costs less than that in the UK – please, these are children, it isn’t for me.” He just looked at me and insisted “450 Rs”. I was sooo angry. At any rate I only had 200 Rs on me. One of the kids gave back one tin, and the other pleaded with me to buy the other tin so I did. For 200 Rs. Three quid. I was furious – so angry I felt like hitting the stall holder on the nose, as he leered greedily at me. How dare someone be so cold and heartless. He was probably thinking, how can someone be so stupid!! Because, when one of the kids saw that I had no more money he said cheerfully, “Come you can go to bank now!!” So it was all a scam in the first place. The reason the kid had asked for tinned milk is it can be taken back to the beggar master to be resold. This is apparently a fairly typical racket.
In Leopolds, I ordered takeaway and misunderstood the drinks menu so ordered a 1.5 L coke instead of 1L of water. A really nice waiter who spoke English realized the mistake and went to the till man to ask for change. The man gave me a five rupee coin and pretended to look busy adding up a bill. It was only because the waiter stood there and told him in Hindi to give me the other 10Rs too, the correct change that he grudgingly looked up and gave me another 10 Rs note.
Anyway, to continue my diatribe, having got a train back to Thane, I got a rickshaw to near my flat and the guy tried the same thing. The fare is 32 Rs and I gave him a 50Rs note and he starts to turn away. I asked for the change and he asked me for another 10Rs note and then gave me a 20 Rs note in change. When I asked him for the correct change, he made a big show of being hacked off and counted out the coins. So it wasn’t that he hadn’t had the change for the 50, he had just been trying it on too. And to cap it all, at the veg stall at the bottom of our flats I put 5 onions in a basket with some chillies and asked the keeper how much. “350”. “You what??? 3 hundred and fifty rupees??” Those of you who know me well can picture my indignant face at this point. (Stop laughing Sat and Gill!!) “Ya, 350”.
This is the equivalent of about five quid. For five very small onions. I just waved a disgusted hand at him, laughed and walked off. But that was the last straw. I was livid.
All day, people had been trying to swindle me one way or another. Even when I was trying to help, people just saw me as this big white sheep ready for fleecing. Some of you may no doubt be thinking my reaction is somewhat naïve. And I accept that judgement – that is exactly what it is. An experience of this sort is the first of it’s kind for me. The underbelly of being in a third world country has been shown me for the first time. It is something I read about extensively before coming here, but no amount of reading really prepares you for it. It has been a lesson reluctantly and sorely learned. I am not and cannot be truly welcome here while there is a rich poor divide as big as there is. Sad, but true.
What a contrast when someone is spiritually rich and their heart is redeemed for Christ. A brother from the church, Titus, who is also one of my friends from the hospital, was making a 48 hour train trip to see his brother up in the north of India. This is his only first-degree relative, whom he hasn’t seen for 5 years. His ticket for the train meant he had no reserved sleeping berth. He was on a waiting list but as yet had no sleeping bunk. I should point out at this juncture that Titus is a theatre assistant here, and though Lok pay 10% more than hospitals here do normally, he still earns only around 4-5000Rs per month – the equivalent of about 65 GBP!
A train ticket with a guaranteed sleeping berth for Titus would have cost around 1500Rs, (20GBP) a third of his monthly wage packet, so clearly unaffordable for him. But not a great deal to us at all.
When I found out about this, I spoke to him to ask him if I could upgrade his ticket so that he would be able to guarantee a nights kip. If you have ever seen third class sleeping berths you will know why I made that offer. He shook my hand warmly and refused saying he had already bought his ticket and it would be too much trouble. I begged him to let me do this for him, but he would not accept no matter how hard I tried to persuade him, as much as anything because it would involve me in a trip to the station at 5.00 am the next morning. What a contrast to the previous day’s experiences!!
27th DECEMBER
Actually, my first taste of this was yesterday, as I was getting into the taxi to take me to David and Anjali’s. I was the other side of some pavement railings getting into my taxi and as I stood up to hitch my rucksack over my shoulder someone squeezed past behind me who I had not seen. My elbow caught him square in the face, over the eye. Thankfully there was no blood, but he was obviously hurt and I immediately apologized in Hindi and in English. He first turned to his friend to ask if there was any blood, then turned to me, snapped in Hindi and slapped down my apologetically outstretched hands; then he pushed me. My first thought was “Uh oh, this guy is going to pick a fight” followed by a surge of adrenalin. Thankfully he contented himself with another tirade of Hindi and a further slap of the hands. I was able to get into my taxi and move on.
The following day, having had a pleasant breakfast at David and Anjalis, I took a taxi to KEM hospital, (one of the places I was thinking of studying if Lok fell through) to get a basic anatomy text book. When I got there, the meter on the cab said Rs 92, which means you pay around 100-105 as they have a slightly revised rate (on a yellow card). The driver turned round and said “250 rupees”! I laughed and asked for the yellow card and pointed out that the fare was in fact 105 rupees and that was all I was going to pay him. He grinned and said “150 Rs” but I paid him the fare and got out. He laughed and drove away. All very good nature banter, but it heralded the start of a day that meant to continue as it had begun. When I finally found the book, I took a cab back to Colaba causeway in search of Leopolds – a good place for a quick bite to which I will take you. As I got out of the cab I was leaped on by 3 street kids who were begging for money not food. They looked so wretched and ragged. I decided to try and help, and offered to buy them something to eat. I went to a small street stall holder and asked him to please feed the kids and I would pay. They asked for condensed milk which he gave them 2 tins of – one 300 mls tin and one 500 mls tin. When I asked him how much, he said “450Rs” the equivalent of six quid. I said “Come on, it costs less than that in the UK – please, these are children, it isn’t for me.” He just looked at me and insisted “450 Rs”. I was sooo angry. At any rate I only had 200 Rs on me. One of the kids gave back one tin, and the other pleaded with me to buy the other tin so I did. For 200 Rs. Three quid. I was furious – so angry I felt like hitting the stall holder on the nose, as he leered greedily at me. How dare someone be so cold and heartless. He was probably thinking, how can someone be so stupid!! Because, when one of the kids saw that I had no more money he said cheerfully, “Come you can go to bank now!!” So it was all a scam in the first place. The reason the kid had asked for tinned milk is it can be taken back to the beggar master to be resold. This is apparently a fairly typical racket.
In Leopolds, I ordered takeaway and misunderstood the drinks menu so ordered a 1.5 L coke instead of 1L of water. A really nice waiter who spoke English realized the mistake and went to the till man to ask for change. The man gave me a five rupee coin and pretended to look busy adding up a bill. It was only because the waiter stood there and told him in Hindi to give me the other 10Rs too, the correct change that he grudgingly looked up and gave me another 10 Rs note.
Anyway, to continue my diatribe, having got a train back to Thane, I got a rickshaw to near my flat and the guy tried the same thing. The fare is 32 Rs and I gave him a 50Rs note and he starts to turn away. I asked for the change and he asked me for another 10Rs note and then gave me a 20 Rs note in change. When I asked him for the correct change, he made a big show of being hacked off and counted out the coins. So it wasn’t that he hadn’t had the change for the 50, he had just been trying it on too. And to cap it all, at the veg stall at the bottom of our flats I put 5 onions in a basket with some chillies and asked the keeper how much. “350”. “You what??? 3 hundred and fifty rupees??” Those of you who know me well can picture my indignant face at this point. (Stop laughing Sat and Gill!!) “Ya, 350”.
This is the equivalent of about five quid. For five very small onions. I just waved a disgusted hand at him, laughed and walked off. But that was the last straw. I was livid.
All day, people had been trying to swindle me one way or another. Even when I was trying to help, people just saw me as this big white sheep ready for fleecing. Some of you may no doubt be thinking my reaction is somewhat naïve. And I accept that judgement – that is exactly what it is. An experience of this sort is the first of it’s kind for me. The underbelly of being in a third world country has been shown me for the first time. It is something I read about extensively before coming here, but no amount of reading really prepares you for it. It has been a lesson reluctantly and sorely learned. I am not and cannot be truly welcome here while there is a rich poor divide as big as there is. Sad, but true.
What a contrast when someone is spiritually rich and their heart is redeemed for Christ. A brother from the church, Titus, who is also one of my friends from the hospital, was making a 48 hour train trip to see his brother up in the north of India. This is his only first-degree relative, whom he hasn’t seen for 5 years. His ticket for the train meant he had no reserved sleeping berth. He was on a waiting list but as yet had no sleeping bunk. I should point out at this juncture that Titus is a theatre assistant here, and though Lok pay 10% more than hospitals here do normally, he still earns only around 4-5000Rs per month – the equivalent of about 65 GBP!
A train ticket with a guaranteed sleeping berth for Titus would have cost around 1500Rs, (20GBP) a third of his monthly wage packet, so clearly unaffordable for him. But not a great deal to us at all.
When I found out about this, I spoke to him to ask him if I could upgrade his ticket so that he would be able to guarantee a nights kip. If you have ever seen third class sleeping berths you will know why I made that offer. He shook my hand warmly and refused saying he had already bought his ticket and it would be too much trouble. I begged him to let me do this for him, but he would not accept no matter how hard I tried to persuade him, as much as anything because it would involve me in a trip to the station at 5.00 am the next morning. What a contrast to the previous day’s experiences!!
posted by Duncan at 10:39 am
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