Experiment #2: Making Friends

I made a new friend this week. His name is Dave. Dave is about 6 feet tall, has a long graying ponytail that hits the middle of his back, and has big crystal clear blue eyes. He definitely stands out in Ahmedabad.

I wasn't expecting to befriend a 60-something (I'm guessing that's how old he is) hippie from San Francisco, but in life I've found that we often find friends when we aren't actively looking. When I asked Dave what he did before coming to Manav Sadhna a year and a half ago, he just chuckled and said, "The easier question is what didn't I do. Let's see, I was never a truck driver- oh wait no, I did drive a truck for a couple of months."

It didn't take me more than a few minutes with Dave to realize that he loves to talk. In that way, we are a perfect match. During his 18 months in India he has picked up bits and pieces of Gujarati- enough to tell the lunch cook how many more roti he'll take, and the rickshaw drivers where he wants to go. But beyond that, my poor expatriate friend has few people to ramble on with about all of the exciting things he has seen and wants to see. While I wouldn't say I necessarily love to listen, I do enjoy the company of someone who I can understand comfortably, without having the pressure to make conversation.

Over the past few days I've found myself nodding my head and creasing my forehead as someone explains a project or aspect of Manav Sadhna to me at a mile-a-minute pace, while in my head I'm frantically trying to access all knowledge of Gujarati I have stored away in my brain. It's exhausting. The task of piecing together words I faintly recognize, while trying to fill in the gaps through inference and the speaker's tone, can really overload the brain.

Dave has it easy in that sense. No one expects him to know the language. But I do enjoy the opportunities to practice my Gujarati, especially with the small children in the slum. Most can immediately tell I am not from here originally (my cousin says it's because I have an "air of an American"), and their first question for me is Didi (big sister), where are you from? I tell them I am from America and that my Gujarati is not very good. I made a deal with one girl that I would speak in Gujarati with her, and she would speak in English with me so we could both practice our fluency.

The younger kids couldn't careless if I knew the language well. They mostly like to hold my hand and pull me around calling Pooja-didi, which I find so endearing. The older ones however, immediately began gossiping about me when I was introduced - this girl from America who dresses in funny jeans and talks with a funny accent. When they see me looking at them and realize that I can understand what they're saying, they run away giggling.