Dharavi slum
Ga arrived safely in Mumbai, India and soon got settled in his new accommodation. If you look at the photograph above, the multi-story tin house he shared with a family of 10 other people is roughly in the centre. The house was used as their workshop by day, and at night thin, reed mats were placed on the floor side by side and it transformed into sleeping quarters. Although Ga was used to living in African slum environments, he was surprised at how different this Indian slum was. With over 1 million people living inside one square mile, space was at a premium, and when more space is needed, one builds upwards, on top of existing housing. Ga struggled with claustrophbia; walking on the ground through narrow alleys between houses, with little sun getting through, with an overpowering smell of chilli and curry powder, and the incessant noise of numerous Singer sewing machines ‘bbzzzzzzz bbzzzzzz bbzzzzzing ‘ away. Used to his own European sense of personal space, he would try and move his reed mat to the farthest corner of the room at night, but this was interpreted by his caring Indian host family as lonliness, and resulted in individuals placing their mats closer to him and hugging him!
We were able to speak every other day via mobile phone or facebook, and by the end of the first week Ga was getting frustrated. He hadn’t gotten far with getting to know the area and he’d had his mobile phone stolen after taking his eyes off it as he joined in with a local ad hoc cricket match him and his guide had come across. He also wasn’t feeling great, with stomach aches and feeling continually nauseous and hence was no where near ready to begin taking photos. His wasn’t eating much, especially the spicy food served at every meal. And when he’d tried to kill a rat that scuttled past his feet at dinner he was reprimanded by his host (The family believed God was inside every animal, therefore to kill a rat was to kill God). When we spoke on the phone I could hear the tiredness in his voice, and for the first time ever, his homesickness. Part of me would have been very happy to get him on the next plane home and safe in my arms, but I knew he’d be devastated if he didn’t get the photos he’d set out to take.
So he had a respite night outside the slum with the British owners of ‘Reality Tours’ and happily rang me when his belly was full of pizza and he’d had a few hours decent sleep! He went back to the slum, but the nausea and diarrhea continued up until the point a few days later he finally admitted defeat and moved permanently to a hotel just outside the slum, and ate out in a different restaurant each evening. Amazingly I had a friend who knew someone in India who was able to arrange for their sister to meet Ga and give him some timely TLC and encouragement which helped enormously.
Time was ticking away though and Ga now had just over two weeks to regain his strength and complete two university projects. He stopped feeling sick, and his energy returned, but it took every ounce of his strength and determination to not give in to his homesickness and come home early. Many a pep talk was had between us on the phone (NB Disclaimer – I did not actively encourage him to stay out there against his will! He wanted to but just found it a much harder experience than any of his other trips, and also, was away for almost double the time he’d been away to Africa, so it was the longest time we’d ever been apart).
And whilst that was all going on in India, I was busy preparing for a job interview, as my two-year secondment within Clinical Engineering was coming to an end. I was spending hours researching and preparing for my 15 minute presentation in the hope I could join the Acute Pain Service as a Clinical Nurse Specialist. On the day of the interview I got ready by myself, and gave it my best shot…and was ecstatic when that afternoon I got the call to be offered the job! I rang so many people that day in my excitement, and celebrated with dinner with friends. And ironically, the one person I wanted to tell most was inaccessible until the next day and hence was the last one to find out!
And finally, the 24 days were over and Ga was flying home in late December. He was in 40 degree heat, and was coming home to 2 feet of snow. He was planning on buying a new digital camera when he came home, so gave his old one to a young man who’d been assigned to help him. He’d given this man some lessons in photography and hoped he could go on and take photos to help earn a living for himself. He also left the copyright of the photos he took with Dharavi Reality Slum tours, hoping they could be sold to tourists, and the money used to benefit the local community. He imagined they could rasie a few hundred pounds to help Dharavi residents once he’d left India.
It had been a mentally and physically draining time for me as well as Gareth and I was on my last reserves as I waited nervously to hear Ga had landed safely in Birmingham Airport, where my mum was waiting to meet him. I was one of the last to finish work for the day, and was excitedly anticipating doing the big Christmas food shop for us when as I opened it my key snapped in my car door. Despite some assistance from the few engineers left on-site my key wasn’t budging and hence as it got dark, I rang for Breakdown assistance, and wasn’t suprised to be told that due to the severity of the snow that week they had a backlog of calls and it would be a while until they got to me. Alone, cold, emotionally fragile and so physically drained I did what any sane woman would do… I promptly burst into tears.
Through the tears I rang a dear friend who, get this; arranged with her husband to come and meet me in my empty, snow covered car park with a thermos of coffee, cake and a hot water bottle. Upon arrival he took up my cold position in the driver’s seat and settled down with the aforementioned hot water bottle, stating he alone would wait for the recovery vehicle, whilst she drove me to Tesco Extra so I could do my festive food shop. As I pushed my trolley down the aisles with tear stained cheeks and that beautiful excitement building that it was only a matter of hours until Ga would be back home with me, my mum rang to let me know Ga was now safely in Birmingham (on a side note, we often flew into Birmingham from our travels together and Ga always said the most depressing sign he ever saw was ‘Welcome to Birmingham!‘).
My friends and I all got home safely that night, and my car was fixed before Christmas Day. Ga slept the night at my parents and despite his exhaustion managed to drive the two hours back to Cardiff the next day. I was out walking our dog Ben, when I saw the most beautiful sight… our Blue Ford Fiesta driving past me with Ga smiling and waving from the driver’s seat.
It was pure unadulterated joy to have him back home with me and Ben, and we both agreed 3 and half weeks was far too long to be apart again. 2010’s Christmas was an incredibly low key, non-energetic one, but it was perfect for us. We spent Christmas Day morning in our pjs, cwtched up together on the sofa watching Christmas movies and eating a platter of fine meats, cheese, crackers and home made pickle. It sounds soppy but we didn’t need presents, as all that mattered there and then was we had each other.
NB; Below are some of the photos Ga took in Dharavi slum, but those and the fashion photos he took are best viewed via his website at http://www.garethkingdonphotography.com
A re-enactment from Slumdog Millionaire
This scene may look familiar to you, as it is a shot from the opening scenes of the film ‘Slumdog Millionaire.’ In it you can see a small child squatting to have a poo, and on the opposite side an entrepreneurial family selling Christmas crackers.
Community Chai tea breaks
Dispersed throughout the thousands of small businesses in Dharavi are community Chai Tea and food shops, where the men meet up and rest on their breaks. I’m not sure what the little girl made of Ga standing in the middle of the shop, taking this 360 degree photo.
The affluent area of Dharavi slum…where pottery is a family business
These ladies belong to a long tradition of family clay pot makers, and make a relatively higher wage than many other families in Dharavi. Their living accommodation is significantly more spacious, and one lady proudly showed off her kitchen to Ga, with hanging, gleaming cooking pots, as well as the TV the family owned.
Man at work, in the recycling capital of India.
The vast majority of people are employed in Dharavi, and I think it’s over 80% of all waste is recycled there. This man is bashing the dents out of metal oil drums, and stripping them of their paint, so they can be sold and reused. The fumes this gives off would deem this unsafe in the U.K.
Ladies at work
Both men and women work in Dharavi, and here are women crushing chillies into powder. Ga accidently breathed in deeply and had a less than pleasurable few minutes!
A community festival
The Dharavi residents have lots of cultural and religious festivals. This festival was in mid-December, and Ga noted how the entire community took responsibility in preparing for, conducting, and then clearing away after the celebration. There was much singing and dancing, and little children were given presents of little baby chicks, somehow fluorescent yellow, green and pink in colour!
Under the influence of six... 