Tradeswomen Building Bridges: the North American Network of Women Working in the Construction Trades

I am still unsure of the balance of the personal and the political here on my blog, but I am clear that the main purpose is to document my research on women in construction in India—my fieldwork, in the lingo of my trade. That might get tedious for you. I have witnessed the glassy stares of loved ones as I have passionately described the intricacies of implementing and evaluating best practices through multi-stakeholder partnerships. I lost the attention of more than a few a couple of months ago when I compared the Policy Group on Tradeswomen’s Issues to the Tunisians who won the Nobel Prize for Peace.

So my thought on this at the moment is to put headers on sections so you can know what is coming and skip it if you like. I like to report chronologically and not topically and that means you could be reading an interesting—to all, I think—story about the cab ride I took this morning, followed by some notes on housing and research paperwork at TISS (the Institute that I am affiliated with) and then a meeting I had the Dean of the Social Work School.

So here is what happened today.

My morning cab ride

This was my first day going to TISS, the Tata Institute for Social Sciences, the university that is hosting me. I went to meet Jennifer at the International Office to get my paperwork going for my official research status with the Indian government (all called FRRO). TISS is in Chembur in the northeast section of the city and I have been staying in Churchgate in south Mumbai. It is akin to going to Queens from Lower Manhattan. I could take the bus or train but the bus is slow and the train involves a couple of changes so I decided to get a cab. The first two taxi drivers would not take me. I was not sure if they knew where Chembur is, but I remember when I drove a cab and did not want to take a fare to someplace distant where I would not get a fare back. It is like being paid for half the trip. The third driver said yes and off we went—for about five minutes. This was about 10 am and that is heavy rush hour because the Indian business day starts and ends later than the US. Something very ordinary happened and then something extraordinary. The ordinary thing is the driver went through a red light and crossed in front of a line of oncoming traffic complicated by about 30 pedestrians crossing in the street at the same time. The extraordinary thing was that a traffic cop stopped the driver and waved him over! The driver then started screaming at the cop and tried to drive away but had nowhere to go. As the traffic ahead moved, the cop stood front of the cab. The driver inched forward, the screaming continued from both cop and the driver, and then the driver cut across three lines of traffic and pulled to the side of the road. The left side. I am still getting used to that. Screaming recommenced unitl the cop walked away and then the driver got out and followed the cop. He turned back once, took the key from ignition and told me to wait. That is the end of the story. I waited a couple of minutes then got out of the cab to see what was happening. Neither the driver nor the cop were anywhere around. I tucked Rs.25 into the meter and went looking for another cab.

I got to TISS about 11 by way of a very unusual driver who actually asked directions twice.

New Place to Stay

I did a lot of paperwork with Jennifer, Zuzubee and the staff at the International Office. They were very helpful and gave me a really nice TISS bag. I am moving out of the downtown hotel on Wednesday and into the hostel at TISS. By “hostel” I mean the girls’ dorm. Triple room so I may have roommates but the most exciting part is that there is a locked cabinet where I can leave my big bag while traveling.

Made three new friends. Hannah, Batseba and Daniella are Swedish undergraduates studying social work who are at TISS on a semester abroad. We had a tour of the campus and—jumping into the future—will take a trip downtown on Wednesday to get our research permits and do a little shopping in the Fort.

Vocabulary interlude: A “chowk” is a square, as in Harvard Chowk or Trafalgar Chowk.

Figuring it out as I go

I am writing this two days later. Two thoughts:

• It is always hard to find time to write—no easier here.
• I have changed the tab “Evolving research questions” on the blog to My Field Notes. I will give a heads up in the blog when some readers might want to check out how my field work is going., but I will mostly use the blog function for reflection—like I am doing right now!

Meetings with two professors

Joined Heather Ridge in two very good meetings with faculty members: the Dean of the School of Social Work and the Dean of the School of Management and Labour Studies. The latter is where I am affiliated. I got a lot of information about how TISS operates and good leads for interviews. Details can be viewed—soon I hope—in My Field Notes.

An Ugly American mistake

I forgot it was Martin Luther King Day on Monday and there was no reminder here, nothing in the morning paper, no one mentioned it. I did not remember. I was reminded when I went on Facebook later. Of course Indians do not acknowledge, or even have knowledge of, MLK Day. However, my inner American exceptionalist was still surprised. Not logically, but emotionally. Another lesson learned.

The next day- Tuesday, Jan 19—I participated in a field trip, “Making Homes in M Ward Mumbai: the City’s Dumping Ground.” That’s the next post with pictures.

Love to all.

This blog was created to report on my research. It was in my proposal to Fulbright in response the question of how I would make my work known to others. I could not decide before I left if it would be strictly research or also my personal experiences while being in India for three months. I still can’t decide, but today I have decided that I would like to share some thoughts about the three questions above with my family, friends and community. Or maybe I have decided.

I have been here for less than 48 hours. I know it but it can’t be true. You know the theory that time is slower when we are young and speeds up as we grow? The idea behind this is that the more stimulation we are receiving, the slower everything seems and as we age and newness recedes, time goes by. Songs have been written and time, for me here and now, is nearly at a standstill as all I see and hear is new and unique to me.

What is it like?

Today is Saturday and the streets and parks are full of temples and cricket. Sounds of drums, crows and car horns. My hotel room is in the back and five floors up. It is quiet at night. The crows are different, beautiful and everywhere. People walk in the street because the sidewalks are too crowded, someone’s home or popup shop, or just not there. Horns blare constantly as drivers honk in anticipation of the green light, to let pedestrians know they are going to run them down, to move a car over another foot so that three cars can fill two lanes. Motor bikes pay no attention to traffic rules such as lights or one-way streets. It is not true that everyone speaks English. Not true that most people speak English. Cab drivers, clerks and vendors, staff at the hotel, understand a little, but we are communicating through universal sign language and willing bystanders who see the predicament and step in to translate. Four people helped me get a cab an hour ago. Earlier, I asked two men sitting/working in a park for directions. They were unable to help me, but a minute later, an older man came up behind me and asked if he could help. He showed me where to go and said it was his duty to help me, “his elder sister.” I went into a café for chai and, only after taking a table just inside the door, did I realize that there were all men there and women sat upstairs. No one bothered me, just my mistake for not paying closer attention. Again, the stimulation can be overwhelming.

How’m I doing?

I am doing very well although I woke up scared this morning. Only two days gone and three months to go, but I know I will settle in and it will be fine. I am exploring my neighborhood a block at a time. I just keep taking rights until I get back to the hotel. Today I made it to the ocean, the Arabian Sea. It was midday and very hot so I had to head back to the neighborhoods for shade. I automatically stay to the right when walking and that is wrong because walking and driving are on the left. I have a technique for crossing streets: get into the middle of a crowd and just go with it. But don’t fall out of the scrum or you will be standing in the middle of the road with traffic whizzing by.

I have been twice to the khadi emporium. Beautiful clothes made by fabric made and dyed in the villages. This continues Ghandi’s movement for the economic and spiritual benefits of spinning and homespun fabric. I thought I might go to the museum today but it was too ambitious. Got my culture fix by shopping instead.

I found myself at the train station early this afternoon. Walked off the end of platform like everyone else and crossed the tracks to get to a southbound train that had just pulled in. Mumbai is a peninsular and there is nowhere for a southbound train to go so I thought I would just take the train to wherever it went and take a cab back. Second thoughts can be good because, while I was mulling this idea over, the train pulled out of the station going north again. The station is the terminus of the line and I have no idea where I would have gone if I had gotten on that train.

I am still figuring out food. The hotel serves breakfast and that is my only regular meal so far. I am following the advice to not eat street food, but that makes eating complicated as that is how Mumbaikers eat. I know there are restaurants somewhere but not so much in my part of town. I search for bananas and today I went to Starbucks for a predictable meal—hummus and pita—and a cup of Earl Gray. It was a nice break.

Where’s my stuff?

This is my biggest challenge. By vocation and habit, I am an organizer but not organized. Now I am carrying all my stuff for three months on my back figuratively and in three bags literally. My natural impulse is to buy more bags. But I know this is oh so wrong. So I search… for the camera, the money, glasses, medications, passport, a pen, the phone receipt I suddenly need, the box for the phone I should have had when I returned to the store and now have to go back a third time.

I don’t know if I will solve this or not. I am keeping my expectations very low. Today I made small improvements. I will not carry more than 2 pairs of glasses at a time (reading plus sun OR not). I exchanged all my US money for rupees so I only have to keep track of one currency. I am packing up and stowing the last minute clothes I packed out of panic but will not wear. Will probably just give them away when I get a chance.

Where is my stuff will be an ongoing issue because I will be moving often. I will leave the West End Hotel in another 5 days when I move to a B&B in northern Mumbai. In the meantime, I soak up the opportunity to experience time as a child does, filled with newness and excitement.

Love and peace to all.

No problem finding women working in construction in Mumbai.

These women are digging a trench right outside my hotel in preparation for pipe work. They appear to be family units. The women work in the trench shoveling and removing cobblestones and dirt. The men work the pike loosing the materials. The workers spoke no English. The woman in the blue sari on the sidewalk spoke a bit. She seemed to be the supervisor. She wants 10 rupees apiece if I want to talk with them tomorrow. I might try to find a translator. They were still working when I went for a walk at 7:30 tonight. Not sure if these kids are the workers’ but they could be. They were at the site all day. Maybe the workers children or could be part of the many families that live along the side of the rode.

I will be finally on my way to India at 8 PM tomorrow night. I am very excited, but some of my closest people are anxious because they have not received notices of any posts on my blog. That is because I have not posted in weeks, time taken up with packing, unpacking and repacking. I am ready now.

Dhanyvaad, David Bowie, for inspiring a couple of generations to be more than we could have imagined, for teaching us to push boundaries.

Dhanyvaad to my family and friends for all your support. Dhanyvaad in advance to all the new friends I will be making in India.

There are many reasons that women do the heaviest and dirtiest work in the construction industry in India. One is that , right now, women are cheaper than machines. But global companies come with capital and machines. As bad as the jobs are, what will women do if these jobs disappear? Here is a story about the merger of a small Indian firm with a Chinese megacompany to do the work that is being done by women in the accompanying photo.

Women repair a road in Umaria district, Madhya Pradesh, India. (Yann/Wikimedia Commons)