Compost over here

  Just to say, yes the foresters were right, it did not rain on Friday when we had our regular monthly meeting :)
  Tine, a lady who rides horses through the land and yonder into the cashew trees, gave us 2 loads of horse dung.  Compost by now, as it has been sitting there for quite some time.  Really good stuff for our vegetable garden!
  The thing was bringing it here from not so far away by tractor.  The latest type of tractor; super power, assisted driving, etc.  The people whom we hired could bring the tractor to the spot but i had to do all the reversing and setting up for them to load it with "mumpty and chutty"..hmmm. It has been a long time since i drove a tractor.  When i used to work for the Road Service, then surely i would drive on a regular basis and that too a John Deere, best.
  It is one thing to reverse in a car or tuck but to have a trailer attached is again another thing.  This maneuver required going between granite pillars at narrow right angles..well get the picture right.
  So here, i am doing the thing.  Back and forth.  Again and again, getting closer to the spot.  Attempting to get there forwards..so having assisted steering is great for such maneuvers.  Turning one direction was easy peasy with two fingers, then suddenly when i had to turn the other way it was so hard required lots of force..so that was another thing to tackle :)
  Got it to the spot.  Relieved.  Went off to get tea made for them..on return they were finished and of course they drove it out easy; yeah, going forward is no issue.  Let's seem 'em get it back there for our second load! :)
 

Our watchman Suraj

  I walk the land almost everyday.  Walk the fence to see how it is growing.  Is it breached?
  Since i have this watchman who works part-time, i am more relaxed and reassure :)  I have asked him to do a few things..even i forgot what i had given him to do; to my satisfaction the fence is looking better and better.  He gives good attention to the land.
  The Nepali have a sense of work and aesthetic very deiffernt to the souther folks :)  For example, we have to put sticks for the tomatoes to be held up; he instead put a branch with many smaller branches,,so the green beans looks like a shrub now :)  Of course, with our broken tamil and my broken hindi..i told him, "do it just like in Nepal."
  It is a fine balance between giving freedom to a worker and to control..
  He is happy.  I am happy and the land is happy.  Thank you :)

Rediscovering her roots

  She has rediscovered her roots.
  She has started her vegetable garden!
  Coming from an interior design/architect background - she finds today nothing more rewarding then sweating in your vegetable garden!
  She is exhilarated.  She is motivated.  She is full of energy.  She can hardly finish her sentence she is so moved by her joy of work :)
  We visited her work place; home.  Lovely to see her site.  Papayas growing galore.  Pineapple in the hundreds; she says, "i am trying to get a 1000!"  All beds lined up, weeded, a variety of vegetables growing happily.
  All this maintained by her and watered by a drip irrigation system installed by her.
  Even the Farm Group has to say if she can grow so much in so little space, why can't she be a farmer? :)
  To our suprise, she made us a meal that night with home grown veggies!   Excellent!
  oh, yeah,  beans hanging from the sky she collected and ate straight from the vine - our advise - she thought it better then cooked! ;) Thank you Ilona.
  People, edible landscape!

Water Tank

The boys came to change the Unicorn's flat tire. I greeted them smelling of B.O. and covered in a mucky substance that closely resembled diarrhea. The twelve-year-old mechanic looked at me strangely and asked for Martanda. "Oh," I replied calmly, "he's in the water tank."

Then the singing resumed. It started as a bubbling echo from no where and rose, slowly, steadily, to Jonas screaming in the belly of the whale. God knows what Martanda was singing, but all of the Greenbelt heard him.

Just another day at Lumière.

It's our third day without water, and while we're finding other ways to wash ourselves occasionally, the dishes are starting to get sticky and the bathroom pipes have that awful smell of stagnation. Martanda, who's even more hopelessly optimistic than I am, saw this as a brilliant opportunity--to clean the water tank.

So up the work tree he climbed, across the death-defying divide he jumped, and into the almost 20-foot deep tank he plunged with a bamboo ladder, a bucket, cleaning supplies, and a wire brush I sent up via rope. And, of course, he recorded it all on camera:

Tractor Ride

There are so many days in this place that I take a moment to look at my life and laugh. Things are wonderful, but they sure are different than I ever thought they'd be.

For example, while I grew up in a farm town in Massachusetts, I never actually thought I'd drive a giant tractor. I've ridden in the carts of hay they pull while apple picking or choosing Christmas trees, but the seat behind the wheel was always reserved for someone who knew what they were doing. Except in India.

Ex-Road Service Cavalier Martanda needed the monstrous John Deer to pull a shredder from a forest on the other side of Auroville to Lumière. Trusty side-kick Catherine thought it would be hilarious to join. It was.

Never have I been on something so uncomfortable... nor have I ever driven anything as powerful. What an adventure!

And now, perched randomly in the topes of Lumière, the rusty shredder waits to eat loads of branches and twigs from the cashew prunings...

Path Clearing

It's a big job. Kilometers of jogging paths once lined the fence and wound their way through the cashew topes, but years of unuse have turned the whole lot into an indistinguishable maze. So we three set out to clear the way.

Martanda, Palani, and I spent the afternoon tripping, taping, and drilling stakes into the ground to clearly designate a one kilometer jogging path along the fence. We still have some marking to do... but the way is fresh, clear, beautiful. What a place to run!

The final touches require a whole lot of feet regularly stamping their way between our markings... Anyone interested in coming for a run?

a new place to wash hands...and other things

Some people are surrounded by fancy things they purchased with hard-earned or otherwise acquired money. Some people need everything they own to be nice and shiny and new. Some people buy all the piece required for their vision.

We are not like those people.

We are more like scavengers. (I say that with fondness.) We roam from forest to forest, learning what we can, and implementing the best ideas at Lumière but with our twist--which usually means making the best of it with whatever we've already got to work with.

For example, the spice rack was originally created with termite-eaten window frames and donated wood. The pond is filled with plants from a bookshop, Forecomers, a friend's house, and I forget where else. And our latest addition is the Lumiere take on a drip/water-preserving/handwash thing. All that's required is a cracked plastic bucket, a chewed-through dog rope, some old rubber, and some creative thinking:



Two minutes of running water and not nearly as much waste as the tap!

Chez Lumière

CouchSuring.org is awesome.

According to Wikipedia, it is:

...the largest hospitality exchange network, with approximately 1.4 million members in 231 countries and territories...

After registering, which is free, members have the option of providing very detailed information and pictures of themselves and of the sleeping accomodation being offered, if any...

Members looking for accomodation can search for hosts using several parameters such as age, location, sex, and activity level. Home stays are entirely consensual between the host and guest, and the duration, nature, and terms of the guest's stay are generally worked out in advance to the convenience of both parties. No monetary exchange takes place except under certain circumstances (e.g. the guest may compensate the host for food). After using the service, members can leave a noticable reference about their host or guest.

Instead of or in addition to accommodation, members also offer to provide guide services or travel-related advice. Couchsurfing also provides editable travel guides and forums where members may seek travel partners or advice. Couchsurfing is also focused on "social networking" and members organize activities such as camping trips, bar crawls, meetings, and sporting events.

The site also features a searchable database of hundreds of upcoming events organized by couchsurfing members...

We’ve had quite a few visitors through this service, and we’ve embraced them as graciously as possible. We shared meals, laughs, everything. By the end of it, they too have fallen in love with the Land. (How could you not?) Yet I realized today that while they may get a free bed and a free meal or two out of the deal, its Lumière that really benefits.

This can be a lonely place, even for those who cherish solitude. The near-constant flow of visitors adds new energy and life to the Land, and it’s incredible to learn from the myriad of perspectives. Plus, couch surfers are basically free labor.

I tease. Kind of. I realized today that each has left a mark on the Land, contributed to Lumière in some way. One helped me with a super clean of the kitchen. Another hung a shelf in the storeroom. Yesterday we had two surfers, and they climbed with Martanda to the top of the windmill to set it free from its cyclone lock. Today Neo is going above and beyond—working side by side in levelling the dirt, digging holes, and doing whatever else boys do with tools and a forest to play with. While we went out shopping, he painted the storeroom. And Dean and Muthu—while not couch surfers, they too have busily built a duck house, spruced up the capsule, and made more meals than any of us can count.

With all these guests, Lumière will become a Land of natural luxury.

So please: come, couch surfers, come! Come to Lumière!

It comes an end, and a new beginning

There Land is ripe with anxious anticipation. The workers haven’t worked this hard all summer. The house is in a constant state of disaster, purging, cleaning, organization. The trees rustle a little more than usual. They too know the Lord of the Land is returning.

And I, after more than three months of playing Queen consort, will retire my responsibilities and return to the office.

Or so I say.

The thing is, after more than three months of playing Queen consort, I’ve grown accustomed to spending my mornings and evenings working in the forest. I’ve completely accepted that my fingernails will always have dirt beneath them. I’ve forgotten what color my feet are under the dye of red earth. And I like that.

So while I may retire from the work and writing this, I may not. Consider this a warning.

Fire & the Watchman

The Old Man was on holidays, and I was too busy to walk the Land daily. But this week he returned, and I found time. And this morning, we both discovered something tragic.

In the back corner of the forest, someone must have been roasting cashews and—woosh!—fire spread. The ground is charred black. The trees are dead. Their leaves are crispy golden brown.

I came to the kitchen and asked Muthu what to do. “What can you do?” he said. I sighed and consoled myself that fires are purging and breed better life.

The Old Man came back to the kitchen and almost cried. He cursed the fools that did this. He swore and sulked. He got angry with himself for being out, and angrier with the world for punishing the Land like this.

That’s what I realized that as much as I love Lumière, it’s the Tata's everything.

The Old Man is a remarkably spiritual person too. We returned from the Nadi readers without ever informing him that that’s where we were going, and he not only told us where we went, he guessed at our fortune. He recently did a puja for a woman who was infertile and now she’s three months pregnant. He’s often whisked away to work in the temples of villages near and far. He is something special.

When realizing his power, Muthu asked him why he works on the Land instead of in the temples—or at least why he doesn’t take Sundays off. “Because they [those responsible for Lumière] appreciate me, and they need me. And the Land needs me. So I stay, and I work.”

No wonder the fire broke his heart. Part of his baby’s hurting, and he wasn’t around to protect it.

Monica & Me vs. Mamma Hen

“They’re like goldfish,” Monica said. We stood staring at the baby chicks running around the storeroom. Their feathers were starting to change colors, but they were still awfully small.

“What do you mean, goldfish?” I asked.

“They grow according to their environment, and they’ve been trapped in a little basket their whole lives, so they haven’t grown much.”

The theory sounded good, but what do I know about chickens? Then it hit me: she didn’t know anything about chickens either. “Are you sure?”

“Of course!” She feigned insult. I remained silent. A moment passed. Then she looked at me hesitantly before adding with a laugh, “I mean, I haven’t read it anywhere or anything...”

Still, it was good enough for me. “It’s time to move the chickens.”

However, we soon realized that was easier said than done.

First, we tried herding them with sticks. They didn’t cooperate. In fact, we looked so ridiculous the Old Man was bent over laughing at us from the peaceful security of his house.

So we tried catching them with a sheet. They were too quick. Every time we came within sheet-throwing distance, they’d scuttle out of range or take cover beneath a prickly bush. These goddam chickens are wiser in the way of warfare than they lead you to believe.

Then we resorted to the basket, catching Mamma underneath and scrambling around to convince the four chicks to join her. But the distance between the storeroom and the henhouse was simply too great! As we dragged the family along, Mamma’s foot or a baby’s wing or an entire chick itself would get caught between the thatch and the path, and we would cringe on their behalf, cease our movement, and stare at the broiling remaining distance. By this time the sun was at its zenith, and Monica and I were drenched in sweat.

Still, we refused to concede. We took a moment to strategize over a glass of water, built a chicken-catching contraption with a basket, a couple sticks, and our own wit, and tried again. To no avail.

Maybe the idea was sent from elsewhere, but it struck us both at the same time: With the chickens in the basket, we shifted them over the sheet, wrapped the corners tightly to prevent any openings, and lifted everything. All five rascals were squawking and squealing, but they were sealed and transportable. We carried the chickens to their new home, shifted the basket on its side, with the sheet between the chickens and the henhouse door. Then, like two proud magicians, we let the sheet drop. Mamma, Thelma, Louise, Beatrice and Mammacas flew frantically into their new home.

We sealed the door just in time for Vasentha to arrive. She looked at us, standing and sweating beside the hen house. She looked at the Old Man, laughing from a distance. And she looked at the animals playing in the dirt within caged walls. “Super.”

Monica and I may get the hang of this after all.

Lost in Translation

Vasentha and the Old Man are engaging me more and more. (I mean beyond the evening tea ritual they’ve pleasantly implemented with me and Monica.)

In turn, I spend long hours wondering if they’re doing their jobs, if I should be giving them more direction, and if so—how?

The nights before Vasentah comes, Monica and I agree upon which tasks we want her to do, then take turns assuming the responsibility of miming the messages to her the next morning.

And the Old Man? Forget about it. I’m in over my head.

But still, they look to me eagerly. They tell me things about the house and the forest and wait for my response. As if I have any clue.

This afternoon they were particularly animated. Something about cashew trees, branches of wood, and something above their heads. A bird was eating the cashews? Is that it? They mimed movement. People are stealing the wood?! What???

They dragged me to a couple sites on the land where bundles of cashew branches rested or where the earth was scarred from a recent fire. They gestured to the surrounding trees and leaves damaged by smoke. They pointed into the depths of the land and hollered wildly. Then they spewed more Tamil and waited for my reply. Four deep brown eyes staring at me. Two mouths biting lips in anticipation.

That’s when I cracked. I fell to my knees laughing hysterically, Gopal kissing my face, the sun beating sweat from every pore in my body. “I don’t know!” I cried through my incessant giggles. “I don’t know what you’re saying, and I don’t know what to do, and I just don’t know!”

The workers laughed too, but I’m not sure they knew why.

I laughed so hard my cheeks hurt and tears burst from my eyes. “I’ve lost it,” I muttered. “I’ve finally lost it.” I called out names of people who surely will not come soon.


Alas, I recovered. There’s a way to fix this, to understand, to explain. I just don’t know it yet. I marched to the kitchen and asked Vasentha for tea. And I learned another lesson in patience.

Everything in Auroville (And perhaps everywhere? It’s just more noticeable here?) happens in its own time, in its own way, and it’s all connected—if only you have faith that the answer will emerge in time. Only moments after I recovered from my fit, a friend who speaks Tamil happened to come by. I begged him to translate.

“They’re just telling you that there’s wood all over the land, not in one place, and tomorrow Vasentha will spend her day carrying it on her head to move it instead of helping indoors. Is that ok?”

I swallowed hard. It was my pride, I think. “So they not only know what they’re supposed to do, but they’re doing it?”

“I guess,” he responded, perplexed by the humor I seemed to find in the situation.

And I laughed some more. “Seri, seri!” I said to the workers. Ok, ok!

I’ll be better at Tamil long before I get better at charades.

~ c.e.michel

Daily Activities

People from the States keep asking me what life is like these days.

The thing is, running a forest is a lot of work. Period.

Twenty acres is a lot of land. Period.

And there are animals to protect! Just this morning the villagers brought their dogs to collect cashews and—as they do almost every morning—the dogs chased the chickens. For the third time since June, one of the dogs succeeded in catching a poor bird, and I had to come with a stick to free the cock.

Plus, our Gop__ needs a lot of loving (which I’m more than happy to give) and company (which I spend simultaneous writing about watsu and/or complementary currencies). He’s just a puppy, after all…

And the cows come several times a day to eat the young trees and blooming flowers, and the house/kitchen/storeroom always offer improvement projects, and the workers—my God, the workers.

Everyday they try to teach me Tamil. However, the lessons include me repeating what they say without any clue what it means. We laugh a lot. Then they ask me serious things in Tamil and look at me with expectant eyes. I suddenly have to make a thoughtful decision based on a frantic stream of grunts and hollers which meant absolutely nothing to my ears. Sometimes we play charades, but I’ve always been bad at that game.

They look to me more and more for direction. I point and explain what needs to be done around the house. But in the forest? I clearly have no idea, and even if I did, the Old Man would have no idea what I’m saying.

Thus, after working on watsu and economics, between fighting village dogs and chasing cows, while tending to Lumière’s puppy and employees, I’m now researching Tropical … Forests and practicing Tamil online.

So, my fellow Americans, my only answer to you is: I’m keeping busy.

~ c.e.michel

A Day at Lumiere

This morning I awoke with a jolt; something huge had landed on the thatch roof above my hammock bed. I followed with curiosity its heavy footsteps as it traversed the ceiling. Then, to my great delight, I watched a peacock descend and linger in the garden before trotting into the wilderness. What a way to start the day.


This afternoon Raja climbed a tree while Monica and I relaxed, read, and hollered orders or encouragement to him from our swaying hammocks. Who ever said It's a man's world?

In the night we had delicious sambar cooked by Vasentha, who was in a particularly pleasant mood all day. We were serenaded by an unusually happy Old Man. And now, with the breeze bringing some cool fresh air to the land, we'll fall asleep with smiles sealed on our lips.

This is life at Lumiere.

Not bad, right?

~ c.e.michel