Kat Williams

I am leading a Habitat for Humanity group here in December and can’t wait to explore this island. It sounds beautiful!

It’s a great place to visit. I don’t recommend driving though!

You can’t help but fall in love with Martha.

I also worked here for a summer. My Grandmother was the camp director at Camp Lake Hugo for girls while my grandfather was a POW in WWII and she kept close ties with the owner. It was only for this reason that I was hired at the age of 16, headed out west from Boston and worked as a chambermaid (yuk) fell in love with one of the cooks (hot dog) and tried to quit high-school so that we could live together in the woods. Sometimes I forget how hopeful and crushingly romantic it was.

My sister & I recently returned from The Big Island. What I loved most was the little towns that are peppered between the vastly different landscapes of the island and the different view points of people’s lifestyles that lived there. Hilo is a great city and some place I could definitely see myself living… even if it does get more rain than Portland!

I am planning on flying from Mozambique this July. I’d love any tips for a 10 day trip!

Six of us have brought our Lonely Planet’s Guide to India with us, thus increasing the weight of our baggage by about thirty pounds. Pondicherry is recorded as a welcome relief from the hustle and bustle of other Indian cities and indeed, it is. Our three hour bus ride from Chennai was an experience, with the same non-traffic rules applying for the two lane dirt highway. It was best to avert our eyes at the on-coming cars, trucks, bicycles and mopeds. As I mentioned previously, three members of the team have arrived on their own due to missed connections etc, and during this trek, I thought of what they would be experiencing, first arriving at a crazy airport in the middle of the night only to get accompany a stranger and head off into the darkness, headlights shooting to the left and right of the taxi.

Pondicherry was once a French colony and a small quarter of the city labeled “White Town” remains home to about 500 French families. White Town abuts the beach with the promenade bustling with “black” Pondicherry every evening, but that is about as close as the two populations get. Even at Auroville beach, people are separated which is odd to experience. A beautiful statue of Ghandi crowns the horizon. August 15 marked the 60th India Independence Day or “Friendship Day”, and he has been fully lit up and adorned with floral wreaths of jasmine and coxcomb.

I am moved to tears by the sight of his smile, walking staff, familiar spectacles and pocket watch dangling from his dhoti.

Driving to the build site on the red clay roads and crumbling housing, we are faced with extreme poverty. Despite this, the people are happy and the children run along the side of the bus shouting “Hello! Hello! Hello!”. I learn that “Hello” means “Hey You” as well. I will miss this very much when we leave. There is nothing lovelier than a chorus of children’s voices greeting you in the morning.

We are working in Chinna Kotakuppam, a small village of 600 which means “small fishing village”. The residents were not directly affected by the tsunami, and in fact, they aren’t fisherman, but as daily labourers, once the storm hit, work was scarce for quite some time. As this particular village is the poorest of the poor in Pondicherry, the Indian government has extended its tsunami relief efforts to townships such as Kotakuppam where updated housing will certainly provide much needed shelter against the elements.

Seventy brick houses are to be completed in this particular village, each 320 square feet with terra cotta tile roofs supported by palm wood beams. To expediate construction, Habitat has integrated a women’s self help group to mobilize labour and produce interlocking bricks used on half of the construction. Both styles of bricks are heavy and are dug right out of the earth surrounding the structures. Clearly we are not used to this type of work. Women with babies slung about their waists were tossing bricks to one another like it was a loaf of bread.

Although we have been laying brick, mixing the morter is off limits. There is a very stern looking man clad in boots fashioned out of plastic cement bags tied at the knees, who stands proudly at the foot of his creation, his stare warning to stay back. I have labeled him Morter Man, Chief of the Cement. When you see his picture, you will laugh. Today he actually waved to me.

In this place, there resides 200 children of all ages, the babies clad in only a red string tied about the waist run to us with big smiles and joyous waves. Other children wear various pieces of old clothing or school uniforms that look like they are in their third generation of use. About 90% go barefoot and have various cuts and sores in different stages of healing or infection. The team was so disturbed by this, we took up a collection and purchased a caches first aid supplies. Everyday for an hour, we’ve set up triage, and the volunteers who apply an assortment of bandaging welcome an onslaught of complaints, cuts and bruises with the more serious injuries. On a lighter note, one of the children wrote on his hand in english “please can I have one banana?”.

P.S. In case you are wondering, I have found the best coffee shop and internet cafe in Pondicherry and they know me by name!

I was in a Taggart’s Driving School car with my instructor and two stoners.

I learned to swim here as a child. We would take an old school bus from Sudbury and spend the entire day at the Pond. Legend has it that it is bottomless.

http://katsninelives.blogspot.com/2006/08/help-hope-st-bernard-parish-recovery.html