bright moment in a cramped space

One evening, two lectures. Both about Dharavi, both about the redevelopment plan. As interesting as they are, my mind still floats away in the overcrowded and hot inner courtyard of our guesthouse.“What do people actually need to be happy?” The people here all appear to be so happy although they live under such barbarian circumstances. I remember the words of David Harvey when he once gave a lecture at our faculty about our system of capitalism and how the world would look like if this system keeps running for 300 years. The system in India or at least in Dharavi seems different. Harvey said we need to change our system, it will change itself anyway. Dharavi vs. capitalism? I don’t know. I realise that I don’t have enough brain capacity to think properly about such heavy subjects. Maybe one day. When I grow up.

the suit

The daily routine; going to one of the local small hotels to fill the stomach with some paneer masala or maybe the mutton Afghani, don’t remember, doesn’t matter. In the middle of the dinner our non-English speaking waiter gave me without saying a word a business card of a local tailor. I was amazed. During the dinner conversation we talked about many things, in all my enthusiasm I probably explained my table companions again about my plan for buying a customised suit. Did the waiter hear me say the word suit? Anyhow it illustrates again the mentality of the people here. Friendly enough to give a foreigner good advise and not too shy to provide work for an acquaintance.

daily routine

at jj's

First an interesting lecture about Dharavi and its position in Mumbai, then our own space in the faculty to work on our own provisional diagrams of the periphery exercise. In the room some work of the JJ students is hanging on the walls. Before we went to India I expected that our level of education would be superior of these students. In reality it isn’t. It is actually quite equal to the work produced in Delft. Maybe not a lot of bright and shiny renders, with which I always have a love-hate relationship, as back home, but sympathetic and delicate hand drawings. I will never say that India is undeveloped, but if so, it certainly has its benefits.

delft or mumbai?

sheeps

Walking in the herd through Dharavi is not something I like. Even more than normally the people are staring. I feel like a passive sheep. Arriving at the shrine where the festivities are going on I feel even more out of place. We are intruders of a sacred event, waving with our cameras, all trying to stand in front of the line to get the best shot. I want to go, there is no need for me here to interfere, especially not in a group of 25 people.

let's recycle

Back home in the Netherlands we try to recycle, but here in 13th compound they are taking recycling to the next level. Everything can be recycled, card boxes, plastics, empty barrels, oil cans, plastic forks, knives ande spoons, textile, everything. We enter a hot dusty metal recycling place. It is dark and the workers don’t look up when we enter. They work like madmen under heavy circumstances. No safety rules are applied here, even while their machinery seems eager to tear of some fingers. “They are very happy to work here” our guide explains. If they are happy does that make me happy for them to? I wonder, there is no right or wrong. I am too different, too spoiled.

recycle heaven

inside

Inside the slum. Literally inside, the streets are so narrow that sunlight doesn’t enter. Dark but also very colourful. Laundry is hanging to dry on electricity cables. Water drops into the small gutter that runs inside the alley. Or is the alley in fact. A blasting television, children walking along asking us to make photographs of them, the smell of masala coming out of one of the rooms. A tiny approximately 5 year old boy is poking in the gutter, playing with the indefinable substance. Although used to the smell I can almost taste the diseases in my mouth. A few steps further I see pooh and pee in and next to the gutter. The aorta running through these little allies is literally an open sewer. Maybe the people don’t know about hygiene, maybe they do. Priority number one is to survive, hygiene has to wait. It doesn’t seem to exist.

one of the numerous allies

the open sewer

5 times a day

Constantly checking our front and back for incoming trains. On the left the slum of Dharavi; primitive shacks, amazed faces and waving hands. Three railway tracks, two trains from the back, the middle one will remain clear, we are safe. I start filming the two trains passing by, left and right. Cool movie!
Something happened. A woman starts running whilst screaming to a spot a 100 metres in front of me. An older man got hit by the train. Not knowing what to do with ourselves we stand still for a minute. “We need to get going” says Amey, our Indian student. We walked by the group of mourning squatters that are carrying the body away. The girls are shocked. After 10 minutes the train starts riding again. The Indian guys hanging out of it are still whistling, shouting and flirting with the girls.
It happens 5 times a day in Mumbai.

scene of the accident

flipflop

The start of our exploration of the periphery. Arguing about how to reach the railway track I stop for a few seconds and focus on sounds. Incredible; trains thundering a few meters behind us, people bargaining and passing by, too much traffic trying to move through a too narrow street; accelerating, roaring and honking. Suddenly I can only focus on one thing; walking feet on the unpaved path upon we are standing. Heavily loaded flip-flops, weeping bare feet, the cheerful dancing of little children, the steady walk of the walking shoes, a pair of feet dragging squeaky wagon.
Ordinary feet just like mine, (un)fortunately born on the other side of the world.

lonely

Arrived

Busy, more busy, busiest...
Why is the atmosphere so good in Dharavi?
Why are the people so pleasant?

I am going to find this out.