a lesson in fundraising

The night the cyclone hit Auroville and the Southeastern Indian coast, it took a very long time for us to realize the full impact of the storm. We were locked most of the next day in our pavillion with little snacks but plenty of water, a deck of cards, and the rest of a bottle of whiskey. It wasn't until later in the evening that we had time to even venture out of the field surrounding us.

When we did, we saw the full extent of the damage. Trees down across the road every ten feet. Sometimes piled on top of one another, making it extremely difficult to pass through. Power lines in a mess on the side of the road. Women carrying water for a mile or longer to bring it to their entire village.

It took even longer for us to realize the full extent that this cyclone would have on our program. Even today, I am still learning the effects it had. Although it was not serious, and we did not see anyone lose their life, we did witness a potentially catastrophic event. Thousands went without clean water and thousands are still without power to this day. We as masters students in a communications program used the skills we came with to help those in need. We learned a valuable lesson in fundraising. Several actually.

Now that we have returned to Paris, that lesson is continuing as we plan an event on campus with little time, zero to no resources, and a group of committed individuals who each have an opinion on a course of action. Welcome to the fundraising and NGO world. There is no better representation for how and why great tasks are so difficult to accomplish.

life back to "normal"

I have been back in Paris for close to a week now. Life seems somehow more dreary. The first thing I noticed on the streets is how much more unhappy people seem. Perhaps it is just me, looking for some solution to why I feel so out of place.

When I left, I felt as if I was finally feeling content in this city. I was grasping the language enough to get by, I had a strong community at AUP, and I was feeling optimistic about the upcoming semester. Don't get me wrong, all of those things are still true. Some spark is missing. Something I cannot quite put my finger on. Perhaps it is the magic of Paris that has been deflated by a tiny prick of the needle that was India. Did Paris have some sort of spell over me?

India was marvelous. Auroville is a place that will never leave my heart. It is a place that attracts people who are undeniably amazing and admirable. It is a warm and inviting concentration of interesting people doing great work.  It has given me higher standards for what I expect from the world. Auroville more than anything gave me hope and faith in mankind. There are great people in the world. In Aurovile, I felt the energy of a cluster of positive people gathered in one place. Together, anything is possible.

And yet I wonder if all of this positivity also had some sort of spell over me. Reverse culture shock is happening, and I am not sure what is normal anymore. Which way is up and which way is down. Good thing I have a heavy dose of school work to keep me grounded.

letting nature run its course

This past semester I wrote two papers on coffee, and afterwards I was dying to know more. When the opportunity presented itself to work with a micro-roaster on this trip to India, I was prepared to be impressed. However, when I arrived on a sustainable coffee farm toward the end of the trip, I was shocked and amazed.

After a long drive swerving through honking Indian drivers, mopeds carrying families, towns bulldozed for the purpose of building a highway, and countless rice paddies, we finally arrived at the Shevroy Hills. Winding up the mountain, it felt as if we had just crashlanded in the Pacific Northwest, thousands of miles away from India or anything close to it.

Ramesh, the farmer arranged for us to ride through his coffee plantation on the back of a jeep. As I held onto the bar and looked out through the farm, I saw a forest through the trees. There were coffee bushes with leathery green leaves, orange and pear trees just above them, topped by a light layer of canopy trees with pepper vines winding up their trunks. He explained that he has had this farm in his family since the 30s, and when coffee prices crashed in the 90s, he decided to begin growing quality coffee instead of a large volume of coffee.

This meant that instead of having perfectly ordered rows of coffee bushes in direct sunlight with no crops between them, he would allow his forest to mimic a natural one. This means weeds, a thick layer of compost, and a variety of different tree species. Animals and birds live in his forest, creating a sustainable biosphere that holds rainwater where it falls, and reduces the tendency for erosion. Additionally, he does not need to use fertilizers (the animals do this for him) and he only uses pesticides when he absolutely has to on one or two sick trees.

After tasting his delicious coffee, it became apparent to me that sustainability begets quality. All we need to do is get out of the way and let nature run its course.

reimagining the forest

Somehow I am drawn to this idyllic image of a forest. Thick trunks, wide branches, ambling through brush, watching for sticks and poison ivy, every once in a while I glance up to see the sunlight flickering through tree branches.

When we visited the Evergreen Forest Initiative in Auroville last week, it was a similar experience. Walking through the trees, learning about how to develop a proper forest without overexposing the land, losing too much water, while keeping your forest healthy. Dave, a local who has been working on forest development in Auroville for about 15 years, showed us around his forest. Pointing out the Australian trees, the work trees that have been around since Auroville was nothing but red baked clay, and the indigenous varieties that were planted not as often as he would have liked.

On my return today, to Dave's Evergreen, one of India's rare forests that stay green year round, I was struck by a much different image. The shade that encompassed you as you entered was replaced by a sea of branches. As I rode down the entryway, piles of sawed tree trunks invaded the dirt road, and I was overcome with greif. Last week we did a carbon capture initiative and I calculated how many trees we would have to plant to offset my plane ride over here. For a round trip flight from Paris to India, one should plant at least 20 trees. This does not count the scooters, taxis, food, or daily consumption of power through electronics. Together as a group we planted five.

Due to Cyclone Thane, Auroville lost 1.5 million trees overnight. 70% of it's forest is completely demolished. And yet, Dave was suprisingly optimistic today. Despite having spent his life growing trees and the last three days cutting them up with a machete, he understands that this new compost will allow more trees to grow in the future. Plus, most of the trees that were lost were non-indigenous. Clear cutting in a forest is never a good idea, but with his skill and knowledge, perhaps Auroville will have the opportunity to rebuild their forest with indigenous trees that are prepared to withstand bigger and badder cyclones in the future.

destruction: a lesson in acceptance

Level one cyclones are not generally considered destructive. In the case of the one that touched the Pondicherry and Auroville area, a lack of structural preparation made cyclone Dhane extraordinarily damaging. There was ample warning of its arrival, and as we returned from a long day’s hike and swim in the countryside, no one seemed concerned of a system that in the West we call a hurricane. Auroville felt indestructible somehow.

After a long night of wind gusts of up to 150 km/hour, we survived that first day on the graces of Kalsang and her family, who run the Tibetan Pavilion where many of us live. That afternoon, the rain slowed long enough to venture to the nearest village for water and food. Along the way, we examined the extent of the damage. Every twenty feet a tree was down across the road. With electrical wires interspersed, the roads were virtually impassable.

She made us lunch, led us to the nearest vegetable sellers, and opened her home to us. Despite being wet and tired, it was because of her, that our rain day was actually quite enjoyable. The following morning, our clean up began with the tree in front of the pavilion, planted on its commencement. Even though Kalsang was there for its construction, dedication, the hosting of his holiness the Dali Lama, I was the one crying as the tree was cut into pieces. Stoic and wise, she understood that this storm is an opportunity for rebirth.

I only saw her get emotional when she announced later in the day, that she would not be hosting her New Year’s Eve celebration.  Instead of spending the entire day moving trees and clearing roads, her family and friends would get up early to put out over five thousand oil candles, cook food, and prepare the pavilion for the guttural chanting. Busloads of people show up every year to witness the memorial of those that have died in support of the Tibetan people.

Watching the stars this New Years eve, Kalsang described to me how the scent of the oil, the sights of people packed into every corner lit up by the glow of endless candles, and how the throbbing of the chants surrounds you. That night, the absence of light in the pavilion became a symbol of the devastation of thousands of homes, the loss of many lives, and the upending of the glory days of development in Auroville. As we watched the moon poke in and out of the clouds, waiting for the midnight to strike, Kalsang, was stoic as ever, making her resolution to be positive in every situation. Even though I struggled to be optimistic about the coming year, I decided to leave our fate in the hands of Shiva. It is obvious that the god of destruction and rebirth has visited us this New Year, forcing us to accept what the future holds.