Broken World, Broken Computer

My walk to work today began like most days. I strolled along the dusty road past laborers working hard building houses. As I walked by one house, I recalled how yesterday at least forty were manually mixing and pouring concrete. They carried pans of concrete mix on their heads, in an assembly line and were still doing so when I returned home in the evening. As I continued, I also looked at the ever-growing stalks of green corn. My uncomfortable bag and newly broken computer lay on my shoulders. Some scooters zoomed by. Then it happened. I saw another reality of our broken world. I came across a man dragging a woman by her hair. Her face was agonized. She remained on the ground while he tried to pull her up. In doing so, and as I neared, he exposed her breasts in the effort to pull her body upwards. My brain at first did not process what was happening. I continued walking as others were near me, who also peered back as they walked by. "Patni, patanee (husband/wife)?" I asked a passer-by. He nodded. By this time I was walking down into the riverbed I cross to get to the main highway and proceed to work. I stopped and turned around once again. My brain registered the event this time. The man kicked his wife in the back as she lay on the ground. She wailed. I turned around approached and still watched like others. She lay crying on the ground on the edge of the open sewer. I'm not sure if the presence of a white man quelled anything, but a more prominent neighbor I knew showed up. The man hit his wife. This time the neighbor and I yelled at him but we did not physically intervene. I pulled out my cell phone and remembered the emergency number of 100. I handed the phone to my Hindi-speaking neighbor. He handed it back to me. I tried again and listened myself this time. "The call you are making is not available." The police were "not available" to help. My neighbor told me the husband said the wife has "had wine." I assume the husband had been drinking too. The husband roamed off as a crowd grew. I knelt beside the woman and asked, "Ap kaise hei (How are you?)" – the only meager Hindi and empathy I could pathetically employ. Her lip was swollen. Her cheek swelled too with red cuts. The woman, dirty and dressed in old clothing characterized by poor, lower caste people spoke to me in Hindi/Mewari. I could only understand her tears and as she pointed to her pained back. I tried calling the police again – to no avail.

By this time, my neighbor was ready to move-on and go to the office. Others, once they realized it was a domestic dispute between a husband and wife, moved on as well. My neighbor suggested I go back to my family, try their phone, and ask them for assistance. He would not give me a ride there. I began to walk quickly home. I then jogged the 1/3 mile. I arrived home a little winded. My host mother looked obviously concerned. I explained with few words "husband, wife" and physical demonstrations of kicking and crying and that it occurred "riverside." I instructed, "Call police." My host mother resisted. Then she asked about those in dispute, "Good family or backward family?" The designation "backward" refers to poor, lower caste people – often villagers. Although shocked at the question (what the hell does it matter?), I answered to hopefully convey information and get the police to come. "Backward family" I replied. "Oh, no, no." She rationalized it's too far away for her to get involved. Plus she had to leave for the temple soon. It's a husband-wife problem. "It's everyone's problem" I appealed. She resisted, but the conceded to call her husband for consultation. She put him on the phone, "No. I am not there. Legal problem. You foreigner. No." My host family would not call the police to help this woman and resolve this dispute. If it was near to our house, my host mother said, then she would call. "This is Indian culture…Many drink…." She then demonstrated a hitting action. I left angry and disappointed. Why and the hell would someone not want to help resolve this ongoing blatant, public display of domestic violence? All I asked for was one phone call.

I returned to the scene. The wife and husband were still there. An obviously richer neighbor was now also there. I explained to him what happened. The husband seemed to be losing interest and walked off. I still asked them to call the police (I needed Hindi speakers). All resisted. When the educated man told what seemed to be the relatives of the beaten women, they too did not want the police. "In two hours, they'll be fine again," referring to the husband and wife. The abused woman was now standing, still looking distraught. She talked and then cried to another man who seemed to know her. I asked her name. "Lela" she managed to say. With the husband gone, no one wanting police, and the wife now sitting in a nearby transport buggy, I felt I exhausted all my options. I walked to work where I spent all day trying to fix my broken computer and process our broken world.

So many things failed that woman. She probably was born into poverty and had an arranged marriage at a young age. She most likely endured abuse since her relationship began with her husband. She and her husband probably drink to ease the pain of their hard life. And then it gets worse. The man gets violent. He or she has an affair which justifies beatings. In any case, beatings by a husband do not really need justification in India, as elsewhere in the world. The system failed that woman. No one was at the police call center to take my call. If the police arrived and heard it was a "husband-wife" dispute they still might have done nothing. Past abuses and corruption probably further justified the woman's family not wanting police involvement. Or it could simply be they did not want the attention drawn to them. Passersby failed that woman by not intervening. My neighbor wouldn't give me a ride back to my house to try the land-line phone. I failed that woman by not physically intervening. My host family failed that woman. Prejudices against "backward" peoples and so-called 1/3 of a mile distance justified inaction. Culture failed that woman. Once designated a "husband-wife" dispute, no one wanted to interfere. Marriage was an excuse for inaction. To further illustrate, my host mother called her husband to ask what to do (I assume she knew what answer it would be). And now I will make a harsh statement. Religion failed that woman. My host mother was more interested in worshipping god in a temple than assisting one of God's children. Does it not register that for the Jains, who profess the idea of ahimsa, nonviolence, that inaction in helping thy neighbor is itself a form of violence? I'm not standing on a pedestal of my Christian values here; I at first passed that woman by and did not physically stop that man from hitting his wife. But I believe in God who commands me to love thy neighbor – and love in this case requires action, although ultimately I failed in doing anything. The parable of the Good Samaritan is repeated in almost everyday I have here in India. It's caused me to rethink my religious pluralist leanings. Indian culture/religion seems to be lacking a consistent concept of a civil society. One person told me the concept of altruism and volunteering is a completely foreign idea for some.

When I returned home in the evening, my host mother and brother asked me about the experience. My host brother declared Indians only call police for "serious problems." Both said they would intervene in a fight/dispute like the one they saw – but they would not call the police. "Why do you want to get involved? You are a foreigner. If the police came, the woman would just say her husband did not hit her. Then what would you say?" my host brother quipped. I responded, "To at least stop the fighting." He's right in one sense. It would be difficult explaining why this American called police about this dispute. But my body also wanted to scream in response, "Because it's the right thing to do!" I instead tried to put it in terms I thought would be understandable to a religious family: "As a Christian, I am commanded to do so." My host mother told me, "You are right" in wanting to help that woman, but calling the police is not how things work in India. "All backwards peoples drink and then hit…" She described how the lower caste laborers nearby drink and do drugs after their day's work. One woman even raged against her husband. Now, I am unsure whether she is using the "backward" designation to describe those who drink/do drugs/abuse (Jains, like my host family, do not drink/smoke/eat meat) or as the commonly used social designation of lower caste poor people. In any case her contrast between "good people" and "backwards people" irritated me.

When an impasse was reached in our discussion, I headed to change and eat. As I ate, I perceived that my host mother and brother were grateful to have such a "good" but yet naïve boy "who wants to help" staying with them – he just doesn't understand how India works. My amused host mother proceeded to recount the story of my running home to call the police to the series of phone calls she received in the evening.

This writing does not portray my host family very well. They are actually good people who care for and protect me. But I again am unsure about India's concept of a civil society, even though people are members of Rotary Club, NGOs that try to reach the poor, religious organizations, etc. The diversity of India's social and familial stratifications may hinder whatever concept I have as a "civil society" – the networking of government, community, businesses, religious organizations, and individuals to work for the common good. There are obvious cultural barriers and differences here too. It appears police are not used in the way they are in America – or at least I've been told. Dr. Sharad at ARTH, however, told me that they have intervened with the police when they've encountered cases of domestic violence in their outreach. In any case, I am still frustrated about the whole event.

After this experience and seeing the mission of ARTH's field work in maternal/child and reproductive health care, I am beginning to understand why those working in global health and development constantly endorse the notion of human and women's rights. The disparity, poverty, and lack of power they see in their patients, particularly women, cannot alone be met by public health, medical, and development interventions. They seek to integrate human rights advocacy into their work because it is so essential and interrelated to their work. And more often than not, it is women who lack power in their country, state, town, village, extended family, and marriage. It is there that global health and development workers seek to empower women. It is there that some seek to integrate controversial or disengaged topics like gender violence and abortion rights into their framework of development and empowerment. And it is there where others seek to integrate their religious faith, calls for justice, skills and energy into assisting those who Jesus called "the least of these."

The world is still broken. My computer is too. But I at least called a repairman.