The Hood

Chennai, India

What can I say about Chennai? It had rained during the night, so we stepped off the ship into a muddy mess. Wearing sandals was a big mistake. No time to go back and change though; it was my first time as an escort so I had to be standing by my bus, holding up my sign for group #7, when the tour group came down. I met Gita, the local guide, an bright eyed older woman with a vivid orange sari, and the driver who introduced himself as Mohammed Ali. The group boarded, I waved goodbye to Richard who was escorting another bus to the same sites, and we were off.

Driving from the port, along the beach, I didn’t have a clue of what was in store for me. Gita was pointing out buildings on the right hand side of the bus, but I was on the beach side which was wide and inviting as the waves rolled in. I’m thinking, “How pleasant.” Over time, people would come back from India and tell me of the desperate poverty, and I would nod my head and say, “Yes, I know, I’ve been in Mexico and Latin America.” And they’d shake their head and say, “This is different.”

Well, they were right. I moved to the other side of the bus to check out the buildings. I was looking at what at first looked like a giant, jumbled haystack wedged between two large buildings. When people emerged from the slapdash construction, I realized this beaver’s den was actually shaped into small dwellings. With a narrow twisting walkway between them, they stretched all the way back to the next street. Like an exotic species of ants, the women wound their way through the chaotic maze in their colorful saris. People were living their lives in there, this was their hood!