First night of homestay

I’m confused, conflicted, but content, but lonely. I’m exhausted, I will sleep well tonight in my home stay.

I’m the guest of the son, Kanchan. He’s told me. “You’re very beautiful… I’m very happy.” Should I be expecting a marriage proposal? Probably not but I don’t know how to react to this. When I arrive at my home stay I am directed past the first house which Kanchan dismisses as his family’s and takes me to his (new) house net door. In the guest room we sit on opposite beds, each not staring at the other. His English is limited, but I’m highly unimpressed. Although I can tell he expects me to be, by his new home, by his guest room, by his studies at college in Haldwani, his job as a local teacher, and his apparent command over his family and brother’s wife. And yet, after 2 years in collge and being a teacher his English comprehension and willingness to form his own sentences are highly unimpressive compared to Radha’s who has been studying English for 3 months at university. There’s a young boy running around, peaking at me through the curtains and door. I ask his name and age. According to Kanchan, Gorro is 12. Kanchan tells me he teaches 14 year olds, I can tell the boy is not nearly 12, he confirms with his sister-in-law who passes by. No, the boy is six.

So we sit across each other in silence for at least 45 minutes while it rains and chai is brought in. I want to go meet the family and see the family’s house but I am also very tired. Kanchan leaves to do something a couple imes and always comes back in to sit. I make a couple, in my opinion, excellent attempts at conversation, but they all fail instantly when he answers my questions with a yes or no and nothing else. The best I got was when he said America “is my favorite.” “Why?” I asked. “Because larges houses.” I reply, “Much in America is big, but I don’t think big is always good.” He doesn’t seem impressed with this statemnt, but he is still happy to just sit in his female American guest’s presence. I run away to the toilet for 5 minutes, a cement outhouse with a tin door that has fallen off its hinges. I return and explain I’m very tired, I’m going to write in my journal and nap. “Yes” he syasy, then invites me to watch TV with him. Maybe later I reply. I retreat and lay in bed. I’ve asked that I can help make dinner at 7. I’m not allowed to help but I can watch. That’s fine, at least I can meet the woman of the family, and maybe the kid too.

At 7pm Kanchan returns to ask me to watch his TV. Okay. I give him 30 minutes of him flipping through channels viewing random bollywood music videos. I actually really enjoy this stuff, I find it fascinating and pleasantly mind-numbing at the same time; but not now, I’m not in a home stay to watch TV. I ask him to introduce me to his family. We go next door and I sit down inside. I take in the dimness and smell of the traditional house. No white washed walls, only molded earthen floors and walls, a smoked ceiling, the house is warm from the stove fire. Kanchan explains “Traditional house,” almost apologetically. I node and say it’s beautiful, now he’s confused. I wonder if I’m getting threw to him, probably not. I’m not representing my culture as he expects, and he’s not representing his as I expect. There is a gap here that probably won’t be bridged. His sister-in-law comes in. I don’t understand Hindi, but I feel I manage to place a lot of context, and it helps that I know a couple random hindi words and they use some English for keywords on occasion, both of which I can hear in conversation. He’s told her I want to meet her, she smiles shyly and sits, he tells me she is “my borther’s wife.” I inquire after her name, Hema. I ask a couple more random friendly questions, Kanchan answers.. She’s not very interested in me, I don’t blame her, she has to start cooking and after all, apparently I am Kanchan’s guest, her’s only indirectly.


I move into the kitchen with her and sit out of the way in the corner to observe. What else am I going to do? The boy has lost interest in me, he’s stopped staring. Kanchan joins several minutes later and sits next to Hema sho is making chapatti. Being in this house, with the smoke, watching the chapatti bake and observing I am inclined to make this homestay work, at least another night. I’ll try harder to communicate and participate tomorrow… I sit in silence, waching. A conversation unfolds between Hema and Kanchan. I am fairly confident in my translation…
Hema: “…. TV … nahi…?” (She didn’t want to watch TV?)
Kanchan: “Ha, leken… khana…” (Yes, but she wanted to help with dinner.)
Hema looks at me and laughs, I smile. I wonder if we understood each other for a moment. She asks him, “…Hindi…?” (Does she understand hind?)
Kanchan: “Ney… Ingreza….” (No, she only speaks English.)
Hema: “…?” (Where is she from?)
Kanchan: “… Amrika…” (She’s from America.)
Hema: “…Hindi…?” (So she doesn’t know any hindi?)
Kanchan: “…Hindi…tora tora.” (She knows a little hind.)
At this point I brave it and interrupt, “Ha. Hindi tora tora.” Kanchan looks surprised, Hema laughs. I ask Kanchan how many hours a day he watches TV. After several attempts I secure his proud answer of 3 hours. (By the end of the night I will have observed 4+ hours.) I notice a sly smile on Hema’s lips, I think she understood.

Kanchan and I eat together, separate from the rest of the family. Again, silence. I compliment the food and try a few more questions. I’m disappointed he doesn’t try to ask me anything, his English is not that limited. I’m ok with awkward silence, but I don’t appreciate his complete lack of attempt to engage with me. After dinner he takes the dishes to the kitchen and is about to lead me back to his house, I walk back to the kitchen, stick my head in and say “danyavad” to Hema. She looks surprised and pleased. I say goodnight to the rest of the family (all adult men) and leave. I can tell Kanchan would like me to watch TV with him. I explain I must do school work and go to sleep. He comes into my room with me and sits down. I pull out my journal and pretend to be writing. He sits there in silence, looking slightly awkward. I look up and ask him what he is going to do. He just shrugs. This I don’t understand, and do not feel comfortable with. I ask him if he is going to watch TV, he says yes, but continues to sit on the opposite bed. After several awkward exchanges of me being as polite and indirect as I can, I manage to convey thank you for dinner, he can go watch TV, I’m going to sleep. When he finally leaves the room he reminds me to lock my door. I’ve now decided to move to Radha’s home tomorrow, with Keith’s approval. They all ready made a great impression on me and asked me to stay. I know I’ll enjoy it much more, and gain more from the experience. I know I won’t feel isolated.

Morning is a repeat of last night. I play with a puppy… Shanti, a woman I interviewed two days ago comes to visit. She comes into my room excited to see me. She speaks no English, yet we manage to enjoy a 2-minute conversation about me taking pictures of her and Bina the other day. Yes that was funny, yes I have the pictures, yes I will mail them. No, to CHIRAG, yes I will send them to CHIRAG. She asks me if everything is ok here. I say yes (thik). I tell her I am hungry. She goes outside and talks with Kanchan and his brother (who is a very sweet man, very much in love with his 5 month old daughter, Dia.). It sounds like she is asking why I am in my room, something about chai, and then she asks how long I am staying (the word “tin” is passed around). I come out and she motions for me to follow her to the family’s house for chai. We sit down inside and Hema comes from the kitchen. Shanti talks to her about me, asking her questions. Based on Hema’s reply with words “Iindi” and “English,” I gather Shanti has asked if she has spoken with me and Hema replies with, “But I don’t speak English and she doesn’t speak Hindi.” Shanti responds vibrantly, explaining we don’t need to speak the same language and something about the pictures again. When Shanti and I are left in the room alone together she whispers to me (in Hindi), “you come to my house, I’ll take you to my home.” I laugh and say ok. She laughs too. What an amazing contrast in communication skills.

After I finish breakfast with Kanchan (in silence), I explain that I’m leaving, I’m only staying the one night. I try to blame it on “my leader,” saying he wants me to go to a different house for my project, my work. I don’t want to insult Kanchan. I can tell he doesn’t buy it though, he’s upset. So when we hike up to the road together, before we separate, he asks, “You happy? You happy in my home?” “Yes,” I reply. You have a very nice home and a very nice family.” I say my thank you’s and I’m off to Radha’s to beg her to take me in for the next two nights. I don’t think it should be too difficult. I’m excited.