I always say that NE India really isn't like the rest of India, but something that does remind me that I'm in India are the brands of English I hear around me. They're not all the same, but given the prevalence of Indian TV here and the fact that many English teachers have come / still come from the 'mainland' (the rest of India), I often still find some features I associate more with Indian English here. (I'm also aware that Indian English itself comprises numerous variants, but this is my own overgeneralised impression.)
It's not so much the phonology (speech sounds) and intonation I notice - there are too many accents, which seem more heavily influenced by speakers' first language. As a point, my Sumi and Angami friends often make fun of the English spoken by Ao speakers. Rather, it's certain collocations that use the verb 'take' that have stuck in my mind and after two months here I've taken to using some of them in my daily life as well.
The first one I use all the time is take food. People always ask if I've 'taken food' and I will often ask people if they've 'taken food' as well. If I'm in the mood, I usually reply that 'I've taken / not taken food.' but if I'm not, I will tell them that 'I've eaten / not eaten.', which is what 'taking food' means.
Another one I hear often and sometimes use is take rest. People will tell me to 'take rest', which as you can guess is an invitation to 'have a rest'. But I'm not sure if I would actually tell people to 'have a rest' back home, unless they were lying sick in bed...
Finally, there's one 'take' collocation I heard used a lot at the Ahuna festival in Zunheboto, and then again at the Hornbill Festival in Kisama. Before each item, the announcers would invite participants to 'take the stage' and 'please take your time'. I was first a little taken aback by such brazen use of sarcasm at a public event, till I realised that they were actually telling the participants: 'use the time allocated to you to perform'.
I suppose it's kind of like telling people to 'seize the day'.
(might upload a video if I find one where the announcer was saying 'take your time')
[UPDATE 11/01/11: The Assamese caretaker of the guest house I'm staying at just told me not to take tension, meaning 'don't worry'.]
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Hey BRO, whaddup?
If you visit Nagaland, one thing you may notice on the drive from Dimapur to Kohima are signs along the highway issuing warnings to drivers. They generally start with 'Bro' and are followed by the usual 'Watch your speed' or 'No mobile while driving'.
Some even extend into the realm of the philosophical, with sayings like 'Money Isn't Everything'.
But if your initial impression - like mine was - is that these signs are trying to appeal to younger male drivers and / or are being sexist in assuming all drivers are male, think again.
'BRO' just stands for 'Border Roads Organisation'.
Still I can't help but feel that the sign makers are aware that 'BRO' is read as 'Bro' and are using it to their advantage, sexist as it may be.
Some even extend into the realm of the philosophical, with sayings like 'Money Isn't Everything'.
But if your initial impression - like mine was - is that these signs are trying to appeal to younger male drivers and / or are being sexist in assuming all drivers are male, think again.
'BRO' just stands for 'Border Roads Organisation'.
Still I can't help but feel that the sign makers are aware that 'BRO' is read as 'Bro' and are using it to their advantage, sexist as it may be.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Facing up to your food
I often believe that if people living in cities in developed countries had to kill their own animals for meat, meat consumption would be much lower than it is. My mum would always tell us that back during those kampong days in Singapore (when most of the population lived in small villages across the island) they had to kill their own chickens for food. Fast forward to today's Singapore, and there are people who've never seen a live chicken, though they may have eaten plenty of them.
A few years ago, a friend of mine in Melbourne decided to stop being a vegetarian. However, in order to make the transition, he decided he had to kill a chicken himself, which I suppose was a symbolic gesture to acknowledge life he was killing simply by purchasing and consuming meat. (Jed, if you're reading this, correct me if I'm wrong.) A few weeks ago, while I was staying at my friends' place in Kohima, she asked half-jokingly if I wanted to kill the chicken that a relative had given. Her husband was out of town that week and it's usually the men who slaughter the chickens. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to, since I didn't know where to begin strangling the poor bird. In the end, and to my relief, my friend said she was just going to send it to the butcher's to do the dirty work.
It's odd though, that despite all the slaughtering, much of the killing has been out of my sight. Most of the time, it's freshly killed animals I've seen being prepared for cooking - not unlike being at the butcher's back home. Still, it can be a confronting experience for people unused to seeing certain animal parts, especially for people who only eat meat which does not look like it used to be alive. Also, given the lack of proper refrigeration, the best way to keep meat fresh is to keep the animal alive. It's a little disconcerting for some to see an animal that was alive and kicking one day (and making a helluva lot of noise) lying lifeless the next, having its feathers plucked or its fur singed off.
I admit I've become a little desensitised to the killing. I can still bring myself to eat an animal which I had previously seen alive, fully conscious of the fact that I am eating something that once had a beating heart. I personally think it's healthy to acknowledge that, given that most of us are so far removed from the process of killing to obtain our meat.
However, there are still limits to my desensitisation. When I stayed with a friend in Dimapur, I had a lot of fun playing with the very cute puppies at her place - that is, until she told me that her external family members would come round for dog soup when they were sick. The thought of it made me feel slightly queasy myself, especially with the puppies right there. No offence to dog eaters, I just wouldn't be able to consume dog unless I had no other choice.
**WARNING**
Some readers may be disturbed by the following images of dead animals. (And no, there are no pictures of dead puppies.)
One thing I notice about pigs is how peaceful they look when they're dead.
When the guys were singeing the hairs off a pig for a Christmas feast, it looked like the pig was just sleeping.
I suppose it's because they look like they're smiling when they're dead.
A dead mithun, shot in the head for the Christmas feast.
Cutting up the dead mithun. I thought it was a rather artistic pose. You can't see it in this picture, but unlike pigs, all the mithun and cattle heads I've seen have them sticking out their tongues after death.
On New Year's Eve I saw a pig being dragged out of its pen, squealing in fear as a group of men stabbed it in the heart. I took a video of the whole affair, watching as the pig started to cough out blood from its mouth. I was quite disturbed, especially the way they guys were laughing about killing the animal, but I suppose they view animals very differently to the way I view them.
Given the amount of pork I consumed during my time in Nagaland, I figured I should watch the death of at least one pig. And I did manage to eat that pig I saw die.
A few years ago, a friend of mine in Melbourne decided to stop being a vegetarian. However, in order to make the transition, he decided he had to kill a chicken himself, which I suppose was a symbolic gesture to acknowledge life he was killing simply by purchasing and consuming meat. (Jed, if you're reading this, correct me if I'm wrong.) A few weeks ago, while I was staying at my friends' place in Kohima, she asked half-jokingly if I wanted to kill the chicken that a relative had given. Her husband was out of town that week and it's usually the men who slaughter the chickens. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to, since I didn't know where to begin strangling the poor bird. In the end, and to my relief, my friend said she was just going to send it to the butcher's to do the dirty work.
It's odd though, that despite all the slaughtering, much of the killing has been out of my sight. Most of the time, it's freshly killed animals I've seen being prepared for cooking - not unlike being at the butcher's back home. Still, it can be a confronting experience for people unused to seeing certain animal parts, especially for people who only eat meat which does not look like it used to be alive. Also, given the lack of proper refrigeration, the best way to keep meat fresh is to keep the animal alive. It's a little disconcerting for some to see an animal that was alive and kicking one day (and making a helluva lot of noise) lying lifeless the next, having its feathers plucked or its fur singed off.
I admit I've become a little desensitised to the killing. I can still bring myself to eat an animal which I had previously seen alive, fully conscious of the fact that I am eating something that once had a beating heart. I personally think it's healthy to acknowledge that, given that most of us are so far removed from the process of killing to obtain our meat.
However, there are still limits to my desensitisation. When I stayed with a friend in Dimapur, I had a lot of fun playing with the very cute puppies at her place - that is, until she told me that her external family members would come round for dog soup when they were sick. The thought of it made me feel slightly queasy myself, especially with the puppies right there. No offence to dog eaters, I just wouldn't be able to consume dog unless I had no other choice.
**WARNING**
Some readers may be disturbed by the following images of dead animals. (And no, there are no pictures of dead puppies.)
* * *
One thing I notice about pigs is how peaceful they look when they're dead.
When the guys were singeing the hairs off a pig for a Christmas feast, it looked like the pig was just sleeping.
I suppose it's because they look like they're smiling when they're dead.
A dead mithun, shot in the head for the Christmas feast.
Cutting up the dead mithun. I thought it was a rather artistic pose. You can't see it in this picture, but unlike pigs, all the mithun and cattle heads I've seen have them sticking out their tongues after death.
On New Year's Eve I saw a pig being dragged out of its pen, squealing in fear as a group of men stabbed it in the heart. I took a video of the whole affair, watching as the pig started to cough out blood from its mouth. I was quite disturbed, especially the way they guys were laughing about killing the animal, but I suppose they view animals very differently to the way I view them.
Given the amount of pork I consumed during my time in Nagaland, I figured I should watch the death of at least one pig. And I did manage to eat that pig I saw die.
Surviving fieldwork: Space, Stimulation and Sanitation
Doing linguistic / anthropological fieldwork in any place which isn't your own native environment can be a daunting task. Alhough I wasn't doing fieldwork this week, some of the principles of surviving fieldwork still apply. Many people doing fieldwork have the romantic notion of 'living like the locals' (that's also assuming all 'locals' live the same way which isn't the case), but for a healthy fieldwork experience - and I'm speaking only from personal experience - there are three necessary conditions that need to be met to the satisfaction of the researcher. If these are not met, one should get out of the situation before it takes its psychological toll with the researcher wondering what the heck they're doing there, longing to hide in a room or run away, and basically not getting much research done.
For the sake of alliteration, I'm naming them: Space, Stimulation and Sanitation.
But before I talk about them, here's a little preamble about the events of the past few days which have led me to post on this topic.
So having left Nagaland, I arrived in Diphu in Karbi Anglong - the largest district in Assam - on Tuesday. On Wednesday my friend here invited me to spend a few days with her at a cultural festival organised by one of the main political parties in the district. The festival was taking place at the new 'ethnic village' in Kohora close to the entrance of Kaziranga National Park. Having just left Nagaland, I was up for another adventure. I'm not quite sure what my friend expected was going to happen at the festival, but for me, living arrangements did not meet these 3 Ss.
1. Space
When doing fieldwork, one of the first things to establish is your own space - space to put your things, space to rest, space to hide from the rest of the world whose language and culture you barely understand but are - hopefully - trying to learn. The amount of personal space needed differs from person to person, but generally, a nice secure location, if only to store expensive equipment, is preferred.
For the 3 to 4 days I was going to be at the festival (my friend wasn't certain when we would be coming back), the sleeping arrangement was simple. There were two parts to the model house in the 'ethnic village'. The women were to sleep on the floor in the main part of the house, while the men were to sleep in a smaller section of the house right next to the toilets. During the day, these areas were used for the exhibition area and a baggage storage area respectively. This meant that the sleeping mats were only set up when guests had stopped visiting for the night and they kept early in the morning to prepare for any arriving guests.
3 to 4 days may not sound like a long time and one might say, "It's only a few days, I can suck it up." But imagine having just travelled 4 hours from a different town, arriving in a new place where no one's telling you what's going on. All you want to do is lie down and take a rest, but there's nowhere to do so. You don't know when people are going to bed, and you don't know what time they're waking up. Worse, because you don't speak the language and people don't speak English or may be shy to do so, no one's telling you what's happening, and your friend's busy with her own work and doesn't quite know the situation herself. In fact, 3 to 4 hours is generally more than enough time to get frustrated with the whole set-up.
2. Stimulation
Being in a foreign environment is often an isolating experience. Even if people speak your language, they may have a completely different view of the world, and many conversations don't progress beyond 'Hi, how are you?' or people asking about what you think of their town / village / customs. It's a legitimate question, until everyone you meet asks you the same question every time and you find yourself having to praise even the dullest of locations. It's quite easy to just go into your own internal monologue and shut out everyone around you. It's necessary to have some sort of mental stimulation to avoid this - and not research-related stimulation either. For many, a book to read or a journal to write in might be enough, unless it's too painful to do any reading or writing that isn't research-related.
Being at a cultural festival doesn't guarantee all-day entertainment. After looking at the models of traditional houses at Kohora (and the workmanship really wasn't as good as what I'd seen at the Hornbill Festival at Kisama and at the Agri Expo in Dimapur), there's only so much dancing and singing I could take before calling it a day.
The first evening was probably the worse, because everyone was busy setting up for the exhibition, while I had absolutely nothing to do for about 5 hours. I didn't have a book to read (nor light nor a space to read if I wanted to) and I had no one to talk to. I had visited all the traditional houses (which took about 15 minutes) and there was nothing to watch apart from the long meeting held by the organisers of the festival. Worse, because I didn't have a space to lie down, I found myself pacing up and down like a caged animal. At one point I found a stone block under a pavillion to lie down on, but when I got up, I realised I'd be lying next to a dog the whole time!
3. Sanitation
This is probably the most important to many people. Keeping clean is an important part of feeling happy. Some, like myself, are psychologically prepared not to bathe as often as they are used to when they are in a different environment, especially if it's very cold and hot water comes in buckets (it's the time spent drying off afterwards that really bothers me). Access to a clean toilet is definitely a must, even if it means getting used to squatting and not using toilet paper for some. Also, for researchers in South Asia and other areas with heavily sweetened drinks, daily toothbrushing (and flossing) is essential if you don't want a hefty dental bill when you return home.
Now, between the 20 or so people staying in the house for the duration of the festival, there was one toilet and one bathroom, neither of which had any water. To make things worse, the toilet seat wouldn't stay up, so the guys simply peed on it. Naturally, many of the women refused to pee there so they used the drainage hole in the bathroom instead. The bathroom door didn't have a lock on the inside, so every time my friend went I had to stand guard outside.
Now, I was clearly aware that the sleeping arrangements were well outside my comfort zone. But I was more aware of the psychological trauma of spending 3-4 days in this kind of environment and I wasn't about to be gungho about the whole thing.
In the end, I only spent one night in the house, on the condition that my friend help me find a way back to Diphu the next day. However, it soon became clear to me that my friend did not want me to leave the next day since she herself felt uncomfortable in this situation - a clear sign that me as a foreigner shouldn't be in that environment. It was only after my mini-meltdown, when a guy I had spoken to for 2 minutes asked for my number simply because I was a foreigner, that she said it would be alright if I left.
In any case, transport back to Diphu that day turned out to be a bit of a problem, but thankfully her boss was able put me up in a hotel close to the festival ground the next day. However, that day I was actually moved no less than four times from one hotel to another (for various reasons), with people simply coming in to the room and telling me to "packing". Such uncertainty is another source of trauma. Also, although my friend's boss's bodyguard always had a cheerful smile on his face, I was always wary of the semi-automatic weapon (I think it was semi-automatic) he had slung over his shoulder.
I finally got back to Diphu yesterday when my friend's brother drove the 4 hours to the festival just for the afternoon.
This photo was taken after my friend had just made all the women move to a different section of the house so I didn't have to sleep with the boys next to the toilets. [UPDATE: the reason why I look so miserable in this photo wasn't because I had to sleep on the floor, it was because I was feeling super guilty that my friend had made all the women move out of the area so I could sleep there.] There was another guy sleeping next to me, so I wouldn't feel too bad.
But did I mention he snored like a dying pig?
For the sake of alliteration, I'm naming them: Space, Stimulation and Sanitation.
But before I talk about them, here's a little preamble about the events of the past few days which have led me to post on this topic.
So having left Nagaland, I arrived in Diphu in Karbi Anglong - the largest district in Assam - on Tuesday. On Wednesday my friend here invited me to spend a few days with her at a cultural festival organised by one of the main political parties in the district. The festival was taking place at the new 'ethnic village' in Kohora close to the entrance of Kaziranga National Park. Having just left Nagaland, I was up for another adventure. I'm not quite sure what my friend expected was going to happen at the festival, but for me, living arrangements did not meet these 3 Ss.
1. Space
When doing fieldwork, one of the first things to establish is your own space - space to put your things, space to rest, space to hide from the rest of the world whose language and culture you barely understand but are - hopefully - trying to learn. The amount of personal space needed differs from person to person, but generally, a nice secure location, if only to store expensive equipment, is preferred.
For the 3 to 4 days I was going to be at the festival (my friend wasn't certain when we would be coming back), the sleeping arrangement was simple. There were two parts to the model house in the 'ethnic village'. The women were to sleep on the floor in the main part of the house, while the men were to sleep in a smaller section of the house right next to the toilets. During the day, these areas were used for the exhibition area and a baggage storage area respectively. This meant that the sleeping mats were only set up when guests had stopped visiting for the night and they kept early in the morning to prepare for any arriving guests.
3 to 4 days may not sound like a long time and one might say, "It's only a few days, I can suck it up." But imagine having just travelled 4 hours from a different town, arriving in a new place where no one's telling you what's going on. All you want to do is lie down and take a rest, but there's nowhere to do so. You don't know when people are going to bed, and you don't know what time they're waking up. Worse, because you don't speak the language and people don't speak English or may be shy to do so, no one's telling you what's happening, and your friend's busy with her own work and doesn't quite know the situation herself. In fact, 3 to 4 hours is generally more than enough time to get frustrated with the whole set-up.
2. Stimulation
Being in a foreign environment is often an isolating experience. Even if people speak your language, they may have a completely different view of the world, and many conversations don't progress beyond 'Hi, how are you?' or people asking about what you think of their town / village / customs. It's a legitimate question, until everyone you meet asks you the same question every time and you find yourself having to praise even the dullest of locations. It's quite easy to just go into your own internal monologue and shut out everyone around you. It's necessary to have some sort of mental stimulation to avoid this - and not research-related stimulation either. For many, a book to read or a journal to write in might be enough, unless it's too painful to do any reading or writing that isn't research-related.
Being at a cultural festival doesn't guarantee all-day entertainment. After looking at the models of traditional houses at Kohora (and the workmanship really wasn't as good as what I'd seen at the Hornbill Festival at Kisama and at the Agri Expo in Dimapur), there's only so much dancing and singing I could take before calling it a day.
The first evening was probably the worse, because everyone was busy setting up for the exhibition, while I had absolutely nothing to do for about 5 hours. I didn't have a book to read (nor light nor a space to read if I wanted to) and I had no one to talk to. I had visited all the traditional houses (which took about 15 minutes) and there was nothing to watch apart from the long meeting held by the organisers of the festival. Worse, because I didn't have a space to lie down, I found myself pacing up and down like a caged animal. At one point I found a stone block under a pavillion to lie down on, but when I got up, I realised I'd be lying next to a dog the whole time!
3. Sanitation
This is probably the most important to many people. Keeping clean is an important part of feeling happy. Some, like myself, are psychologically prepared not to bathe as often as they are used to when they are in a different environment, especially if it's very cold and hot water comes in buckets (it's the time spent drying off afterwards that really bothers me). Access to a clean toilet is definitely a must, even if it means getting used to squatting and not using toilet paper for some. Also, for researchers in South Asia and other areas with heavily sweetened drinks, daily toothbrushing (and flossing) is essential if you don't want a hefty dental bill when you return home.
Now, between the 20 or so people staying in the house for the duration of the festival, there was one toilet and one bathroom, neither of which had any water. To make things worse, the toilet seat wouldn't stay up, so the guys simply peed on it. Naturally, many of the women refused to pee there so they used the drainage hole in the bathroom instead. The bathroom door didn't have a lock on the inside, so every time my friend went I had to stand guard outside.
Now, I was clearly aware that the sleeping arrangements were well outside my comfort zone. But I was more aware of the psychological trauma of spending 3-4 days in this kind of environment and I wasn't about to be gungho about the whole thing.
In the end, I only spent one night in the house, on the condition that my friend help me find a way back to Diphu the next day. However, it soon became clear to me that my friend did not want me to leave the next day since she herself felt uncomfortable in this situation - a clear sign that me as a foreigner shouldn't be in that environment. It was only after my mini-meltdown, when a guy I had spoken to for 2 minutes asked for my number simply because I was a foreigner, that she said it would be alright if I left.
In any case, transport back to Diphu that day turned out to be a bit of a problem, but thankfully her boss was able put me up in a hotel close to the festival ground the next day. However, that day I was actually moved no less than four times from one hotel to another (for various reasons), with people simply coming in to the room and telling me to "packing". Such uncertainty is another source of trauma. Also, although my friend's boss's bodyguard always had a cheerful smile on his face, I was always wary of the semi-automatic weapon (I think it was semi-automatic) he had slung over his shoulder.
I finally got back to Diphu yesterday when my friend's brother drove the 4 hours to the festival just for the afternoon.
This photo was taken after my friend had just made all the women move to a different section of the house so I didn't have to sleep with the boys next to the toilets. [UPDATE: the reason why I look so miserable in this photo wasn't because I had to sleep on the floor, it was because I was feeling super guilty that my friend had made all the women move out of the area so I could sleep there.] There was another guy sleeping next to me, so I wouldn't feel too bad.
But did I mention he snored like a dying pig?
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
To block road, to dam to fish
The other day as I was going through the Sumi-English dictionary by Lozhevi Sema, I found this verb:
yekhi: ala lakha, yekha keu akushino azü yekhakeu = to block road; to dam to fish.
While my friends weren't too familiar with this particular entry, it seems to refer to blocking either a road or a river (the latter for the purpose of catching fish).
This immediately brought to mind what happened last week as we were travelling back to Zunheboto after doing some cultural documentation in a few villages. We were crossing the Lanki River - which I dubbed the 'Lion King' river - when a rather peculiar sight greeted us.
The Lanki River
First, I couldn't make out where we were meant to ford the river, but the driver didn't have any problem plunging the car right into part of the river. When we emerged on the embankment in the middle of the river, there was a car parked on it, with a few men in military uniform standing around with guns - members of the Underground.
For those who don't know, there's an insurgency problem in Nagaland, with a whole 'government' running parallel with the government recognised by India. They're not terribly popular, given their penchant for violence and extortion. At least now there's a ceasefire between the Underground and the Indian Army, but there are also a number of different factions which still fight amongst themselves.
Anyway, the curious thing that day wasn't anything to do with violence. It was a steam shoveller in a pond. And it was blocking our attempt to cross the river.
What these guys were doing, was using the steam shoveller to dam the river and make a smaller channel so they could catch fish! In the process, they had also changed the course of the river, thereby blocking the usual road, and the car had to struggle up a muddy path, aided by a few of us pushing it up.
The verb yekhi would therefore be doubly appropriate to describe what happened here. Of course, damming the river this way and blocking all traffic just to have a bit of fun definitely doesn't make the guys in the Underground any more popular.
yekhi: ala lakha, yekha keu akushino azü yekhakeu = to block road; to dam to fish.
While my friends weren't too familiar with this particular entry, it seems to refer to blocking either a road or a river (the latter for the purpose of catching fish).
This immediately brought to mind what happened last week as we were travelling back to Zunheboto after doing some cultural documentation in a few villages. We were crossing the Lanki River - which I dubbed the 'Lion King' river - when a rather peculiar sight greeted us.
The Lanki River
First, I couldn't make out where we were meant to ford the river, but the driver didn't have any problem plunging the car right into part of the river. When we emerged on the embankment in the middle of the river, there was a car parked on it, with a few men in military uniform standing around with guns - members of the Underground.
For those who don't know, there's an insurgency problem in Nagaland, with a whole 'government' running parallel with the government recognised by India. They're not terribly popular, given their penchant for violence and extortion. At least now there's a ceasefire between the Underground and the Indian Army, but there are also a number of different factions which still fight amongst themselves.
Anyway, the curious thing that day wasn't anything to do with violence. It was a steam shoveller in a pond. And it was blocking our attempt to cross the river.
What these guys were doing, was using the steam shoveller to dam the river and make a smaller channel so they could catch fish! In the process, they had also changed the course of the river, thereby blocking the usual road, and the car had to struggle up a muddy path, aided by a few of us pushing it up.
The verb yekhi would therefore be doubly appropriate to describe what happened here. Of course, damming the river this way and blocking all traffic just to have a bit of fun definitely doesn't make the guys in the Underground any more popular.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Failed illegal immigrant
On the weekend, the government announced that, apart from Pakistani and Chinese citizens, foreigners would require no special permits to visit N-East for 2011. They will require to register - I'm assuming at the local police station - within 24 hours upon arrival. They're trialling this idea for one year, and the permit exemption programme will apply to the states of Nagaland, Manipur and Mizoram. (Arunachal Pradesh is still pretty sensitive given that China still claims it as part of their territory and like people I've spoken with in Nepal, there's the belief that China will invade within the next decade or two.)
This is fantastic news, since I won't have to worry about getting a Restricted Area Permit or RAP (also known as a Protected Area Permit or PAP) the next time I come back this year. The process of obtaining one is lengthy. First, you either need to apply and travel as a group of four, or as a married couple. Since I am neither of these (although my pork consumption for the month is making me feel like closer to a group of four), it's amazing my friend has been able to get me two RAPs to visit the state.
Next, you need to already have a visa for India in order to apply for the permit. This sounds reasonable, until you realise that India tourist visas are valid from the date they are issued, not from a specified date afterwards. Given that it takes 6-8 weeks to be granted the RAP, this means having to get the India visa about 2 months before actually arriving in India. The first time I tried this, the consulate staff (or rather, the people the consular staff outsourced their visa processing to) were not happy that I was getting a visa so early and wanted to see my plane ticket to India.
On the application form on the RAP, which I have scanned and emailed to my friend in the past, it is also required that you state the route by which you will be travelling when you are in Nagaland. This means naming all the towns that you will be passing through even before you've got the permit.
If and when the permit arrives (my friend emails it to me), it is usually valid for only 10 days - I am so grateful my friend managed to get me an RAP that was valid for a month since I was here for the Ahuna and Hornbill festivals. It is possible to extend the permit, which did so I could stay till after New Year's, but this requires more time and there's always the chance it won't be granted so it's difficult to make long term plans.
You then have to make multiple copies of the permit. The reason for this is that at every major town, and for some minor towns, there's a security checkpoint. Foreigners are supposed to report to the local police station in every town they pass through to deposit a copy of their RAP. This is the most painful process because an already long 6 hour journey from Kohima to Zunheboto for instance, might take 9 hours, with 3 hours sitting in police stations answering questions, or worse, just waiting for the local police to come back if they're on duty at the time. It is also expected that you follow the route you specified in your RAP or questions will be asked.
And you have to leave when the permit expires!
I've been lucky in some aspects, some of which I will not elaborate on here. I can say that my last RAP extension granted me permission to remain in the state till 2 Jan, which was a Sunday, when inter-town transport is very difficult - taxis / sumos don't run and most people are at church or with their families. It was therefore difficult to leave by the date written on the RAP extension and I thought I would have to risk being an illegal visitor for two days (I'm leaving for Assam today), but it seems my attempt at being illegal has been foiled by the government of India.
It was a very last-minute announcement and I don't know if it will make a huge impact on foreign tourist numbers this year, since most people don't even know about Nagaland and the other NE states. It might have a bigger impact next year, and with more publicity.
In the meantime, tell your friends to come visit NE India this year!
This is fantastic news, since I won't have to worry about getting a Restricted Area Permit or RAP (also known as a Protected Area Permit or PAP) the next time I come back this year. The process of obtaining one is lengthy. First, you either need to apply and travel as a group of four, or as a married couple. Since I am neither of these (although my pork consumption for the month is making me feel like closer to a group of four), it's amazing my friend has been able to get me two RAPs to visit the state.
Next, you need to already have a visa for India in order to apply for the permit. This sounds reasonable, until you realise that India tourist visas are valid from the date they are issued, not from a specified date afterwards. Given that it takes 6-8 weeks to be granted the RAP, this means having to get the India visa about 2 months before actually arriving in India. The first time I tried this, the consulate staff (or rather, the people the consular staff outsourced their visa processing to) were not happy that I was getting a visa so early and wanted to see my plane ticket to India.
On the application form on the RAP, which I have scanned and emailed to my friend in the past, it is also required that you state the route by which you will be travelling when you are in Nagaland. This means naming all the towns that you will be passing through even before you've got the permit.
If and when the permit arrives (my friend emails it to me), it is usually valid for only 10 days - I am so grateful my friend managed to get me an RAP that was valid for a month since I was here for the Ahuna and Hornbill festivals. It is possible to extend the permit, which did so I could stay till after New Year's, but this requires more time and there's always the chance it won't be granted so it's difficult to make long term plans.
You then have to make multiple copies of the permit. The reason for this is that at every major town, and for some minor towns, there's a security checkpoint. Foreigners are supposed to report to the local police station in every town they pass through to deposit a copy of their RAP. This is the most painful process because an already long 6 hour journey from Kohima to Zunheboto for instance, might take 9 hours, with 3 hours sitting in police stations answering questions, or worse, just waiting for the local police to come back if they're on duty at the time. It is also expected that you follow the route you specified in your RAP or questions will be asked.
And you have to leave when the permit expires!
I've been lucky in some aspects, some of which I will not elaborate on here. I can say that my last RAP extension granted me permission to remain in the state till 2 Jan, which was a Sunday, when inter-town transport is very difficult - taxis / sumos don't run and most people are at church or with their families. It was therefore difficult to leave by the date written on the RAP extension and I thought I would have to risk being an illegal visitor for two days (I'm leaving for Assam today), but it seems my attempt at being illegal has been foiled by the government of India.
It was a very last-minute announcement and I don't know if it will make a huge impact on foreign tourist numbers this year, since most people don't even know about Nagaland and the other NE states. It might have a bigger impact next year, and with more publicity.
In the meantime, tell your friends to come visit NE India this year!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Sex sells fireworks?
Happy New Year from Nagaland!
Now, going back to Australia for a second, most Australians associate (or have associated) Canberra with being able to legally purchase porn and fireworks. It's a bit of a misconception, since fireworks are no longer freely available in the nation's capital and seriously, who buys porn in shops anymore?
Anyway, I have a point somewhere here. With Christmas and New Year's over, there's been a helluva lot of fireworks (locally known as 'bombs' here). While fireworks for New Year's is fairly standard for me, nowhere have I seen Christmas celebrating with such prolific use of explosives. It's a wonder I got any sleep on Christmas Eve.
But - apart from the loud intermittent blasts throughout the night - it was the packaging that really caught my attention. Most packaging looks fairly tame, bordering on family friendly even, but note the position of the woman's hand in this picture:
Others, on the other hand, are a little more shameless.
It's almost like a combination of porn and fireworks!
Okay, not quite, but I do find it hilarious that you're able to purchase these potentially life-threatening and sexually explicitly marketed babies, given that people aren't even allowed to go to cinemas here because it's considered a sin against God.
There are some things I don't think I'll ever understand.
Now, going back to Australia for a second, most Australians associate (or have associated) Canberra with being able to legally purchase porn and fireworks. It's a bit of a misconception, since fireworks are no longer freely available in the nation's capital and seriously, who buys porn in shops anymore?
Anyway, I have a point somewhere here. With Christmas and New Year's over, there's been a helluva lot of fireworks (locally known as 'bombs' here). While fireworks for New Year's is fairly standard for me, nowhere have I seen Christmas celebrating with such prolific use of explosives. It's a wonder I got any sleep on Christmas Eve.
But - apart from the loud intermittent blasts throughout the night - it was the packaging that really caught my attention. Most packaging looks fairly tame, bordering on family friendly even, but note the position of the woman's hand in this picture:
Others, on the other hand, are a little more shameless.
It's almost like a combination of porn and fireworks!
Okay, not quite, but I do find it hilarious that you're able to purchase these potentially life-threatening and sexually explicitly marketed babies, given that people aren't even allowed to go to cinemas here because it's considered a sin against God.
There are some things I don't think I'll ever understand.
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