Nrog Me Kab Me Noog Quaj:
Living in India (a reflection)
By Nancy Xiong

 My mother used to tell me stories about her days out in the field in the hot sun, tending her family's
crops. She used to tell me how she would rather be out with her parents working in the field, instead of
remaining in the house. She told me about planting, harvesting, watering and fertilizing crops with a
cow’s help. She told me about her days with her friends on their way to fetch water or wood for the
fire, and the interested young men that would come their way to talk to them. She told me about her
nights with insects chirping which made her felt very safe. Henceforth, the cries of the insects served
as a sense of security and friendship for her when she was out working in the field in Laos. In the
morning, the musical birds served as her alarm clock.  She would get up and start her day making rice
for the family and preparing to go do her daily chores.  
 This past summer, I began to tell her stories from a faraway place. A place that my dad first
introduced me to when I was young, with a character called Sunita in the movie “Yeh Vaada Raha”
with Rishi Kapoor. I saw the beauty of this place through my dear friends. I saw its kind hospitality
through my bharatanatyam dance teacher, Ms. Aruna Rajogopal of Spandhan School of Dance. At
last, this summer, I finally got to see this faraway place with my eyes.  
I began to tell my mother stories of my days in Bangalore, Karnataka, India at Bapagrama Educa-
tional Center. My being here made me think of her in so many different ways.  I told her stories that
helped me realize how she lived her life when she was my age.  I told her stories that brought me
back to her teachings while raising my siblings and me in the United States, a country she did not
grow up in.  
 As I stepped foot off the airplane and walked into the Bangalore airport, I was greeted with a mass of
people waiting for their arrivals. I was asked at least five times if I needed a taxi while looking for my
friends Chandni and Raja, who were designated to pick me up. The ride  to my final destination took
an hour. I was so tired that I was knocked out for most of the ride to Bapagrama. During my waking
moments, I remember jerking and cringing as we made our way while Raja giggled away. The roads
were very bumpy and people did not drive in their own lanes. When we reached our destination,
lunch was ready and water for bathing was boiled. I was finally “home” after a long plane ride from
Chicago, Ill.   
 Every morning I would wake up to the gentle breeze blowing my hair as I made my way down the
stairs in my flip flops with a bucket of personal washing items. On my way, I would stop to make way
for the dogs and other animals that came to visit the school. For those who know me very well, I am
not fond of animals.  However, here I managed very well. My adventures had just started in India.  
I worked with a group of 9th graders to make a self-picture story book. In this book, a friend and I
engaged the students to write about their thoughts on their school motto and thoughts on Gandhi,
who was instrumental in having their school built. My professor, Ms. Janaki Natarajan, took over the
school after her mother — the person behind the school’s construction — passed away.
 In each of the students, I saw my own brothers and sisters. I saw my father and mother as well. I saw
my Evenstart preschool students at Northport who were very eager to learn. In Laos, my father walked
a long distance just to attend the closest school in his village, very similar to my students; whereas my
mother did not get to go to school at all.  She was the oldest daughter, so she took care of her
younger siblings and became their mother after my grandmother died.  At Bapagrama, I learned that
girls' receving an education is not common. Many only reach the high school level.
 Sister Ruth, a retired nurse who comes weekly to the Bapagrama Health Clinic to serve the village,
uses ayurvedic medicine and no injections to treat her patients. This brought me back to my family.
They did not have doctors available in Laos. They resorted to a shaman to come and heal the ill or
use herbs to treat wounds. This was very similar to the Bapagrama Health Clinic. My mother used to
go to the woods to cut trees for medicinal purposes. I always wondered how come my mother and
grandmother did not take any medicine prescribed by  doctors which are presumed safe. Little I knew.
However, getting to know Sister Ruth has shifted my views about herbal treatments because of her
ayurvedic and pharmaceutical medicine.  
 In our household of four sisters, two brothers and my parents, my father was the domineering person
who had the final say in everything. Being the oldest, my parents were very strict on me in terms of
traveling, taking part in extracurricular activies after school, even going away to college. My father
was most concerned about the distances I traveled; but he managed very well as time went by. When
I was leaving my family this summer, it was my father who wished me the best of luck and was very
content that I should further my studies in India. The Hmong culture is a male-dominated culture,
very similar to the Indian culture. But to see my professor, a woman, as the head of a school which is
predominantly male, was a powerful inspiration for me. She reminds me of my mother in many
different ways. While the world is run by men, women are often the brains behind what is needed to
get done.  
 Here in India, I shared my stories of the basic facilities we have in the United States such as a
flushable toilet, hot and cold water, electricity, Internet, and mirror. In Bapagrama, life is very simple.
The toilets are squatting toilets.  Water is boiled for a bath. Sometimes, electricity would go out and I
would have to make use of candles and a flashlight. All in all, it is a very simple and peaceful time,
though after a while, I feet very disconnected with the world.
My mother once used to chant "nrog me kab me noog quaj, nrog me kab me noog da dej, me kab me
noog ua kuv luag thiaj tsis kho siab.” (Weeping with the insects, the birds, showering with the insects
and birds, the insects and birds soothes the loneliness away.) At Bapagrama, I now  understand the
meaning of my mother's words. At night, I fall asleep to the weeping of crickets. I shower with bugs
outside the bath house and sometimes on the walls of the shower. At last, I listen to the cries of insects
and birds to ease my loneliness away, but I miss my family and friends back in the United States.  
 Note: In her next article, Nancy will reflect on her experiences working with an NGO combating
child trafficking issues in India.

About the Author:
  Nancy Xiong is a SIT Graduate Student and an MA Candidate for Social Justice of Intercultural
Relations
Nancy (3rd from left, first row) with Prof.
Janaki Natarjan (2nd from left, first row)
Sister Ruth treating students at the Bapagrama
Health Clinic
Ninth grader students at Bapagrama
Educational Center