Change In Plans

A KERALA HOUSEBOAT

Greetings from Alleppey, Kerala, in the steamy far south of India. This was a strange day.  Our minds were largely focused on the attacks in Mumbai, while our bodies rode around in a rattan houseboat in Kerala’s “Backwaters” district.

OUR KERALA HOUSEBOAT AND JUNIOR HOUSEBOATERS

This post is mostly about Kerala, where we have been since yesterday morning. India is a confusing place for a foreigner.   The state of Kerala is more confusing than the national average
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There is actually something that economists call “the Kerala Paradox.”  It refers to the state’s very high rankings on quality-of-life indicators (e.g., high literacy, low infant mortality, high caloric intake, practically zero homelessness) but pedestrian economic growth from independence until the late 1990.

As far as I can tell, the high quality-of-life rankings come from Kerala’s long history of income equality, enlightened maharajas, and the outside influences of Europeans and Arabs as trading partners.Comprehensive land reform and commitment to primary education (nearly 100% adult literacy) have been more recent drivers. Poor economic growth has come from politics. Although the Congress Party has ruled India overall for most of the country’s 61-year history, it has only held power in Kerala sporadically. As a semi-dissident state, Kerala has never received much investment from the center.  The business climate was also relatively hostile for much of the last 60 years: rigid labor laws, high taxes, much bureaucracy.

Kerala’s economy struggled along until about 2000, when a new (privately funded) airport was completed in Kochi, and tourism and IT started to boom. Also, highly educated emigres from Kerala to the rest of India, and to the oil-rich Gulf states, remitted loads of money, jump-starting development.

The other paradoxes of Kerala are frankly more difficult to understand. Despite its relative poverty, Kerala’s local government has a longstanding reputation for being honest, pragmatic, and tough-minded. The roads are very good,and the public spaces are clean.   Traffic lights work, and the plentiful signage and tourism sights are sponsored through advertising from local merchants (cutting-edge public-private partnership). Kerala’s investment climate is now seen as much more friendly to business. This is a state government that understands business, and consistently delivers services for its citizens.

It is paradoxical that Kerala, a relative Singapore of the sub-continent, has been run by the Communist Party of India (Marxist) for most of its history. The parenthetical Marxist reflects the feuds and fissures of the early days of the Indian left.  Kerala may have the only freely elected Communist regime in the world.  Nearly 20 years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, it is jarring to see the hammer and sickle painted on roadways, and emblazoned on campaign posters and flags.  That picture of Che Guevara is more than a fashion statement.

Even more paradoxical, this Communist/Hindu state’s motto is “God’s own country.” Note the capitalization and the singular form of “God.”

The Catholic missionaries did a salutary job in this part of India.  There are crosses, churches, and parochial schools everywhere. This afternoon, we left the houseboat and visited a huge old cathedral, in a parish which dates from Portuguese occupation of Kerala in the early 1500s. The frescoes and statues were garish and bloody and spectacular. As Zola said, “This feels more like Italy than India.” A genuflecting parishioner in the pew behind us summarized this religious paradox by clacking his rosary beads while chanting the classic “Ommmmmmmm” of Buddhist meditation.

Last night we went on a harbor cruise in Kochi.  As we watched a beautiful sunset over the communist/capitalist/Hindu/Catholic city, the Muslim call to prayer blared loudly from muezzins all along the waterfront, complicating our perceptions even further.

After the cruise, we watched an hour-long classical dance (Kathakali), which was performed by heavily made-up men, many of whom were in drag. The ancient Kathakali form is similar to Japanese kabuki, but has more martial arts, and is even more stylized, if that is possible.

Incidentally, it is brutally hot and humid here, even in late November. All painted surfaces are profoundly mildewed, and it looks as though the jungle could reclaim most of the buildings over a long weekend.  The lushness of the jungle hangs over everything, and life revolves around the freshwater canals and the ocean. The mosquitoes would be truly terrible if it weren’t for the enormous (e.g., housecat-sized) bats that patrol the night skies.

So, before today I thought I understood about 3% of India, but was learning and understanding more each day. With our brief introduction to Kerala, and (much more significantly) with the ongoing terror attacks in Mumbai which we narrowly avoided being in the middle of, I feel like I am back at square one. Also, we had been starting to feel very comfortable here in India, but now not so much.

On the positive side, Zola and Lu are back in the galley, mixing and rolling chapatis with the houseboat’s chef. We can hear them laughing as we sit on the foredeck in the evening breeze. We are about to feast on tiger prawns caught this morning, and on rice from paddies we could see before the sun set. No pumpkin pie, but maybe a saffron noodle pudding for dessert.

We are very thankful to have not been in Mumbai last night, and very thankful for the outpouring of support and love from friends and family around the world. We are most thankful for each other, and for the great blessing of this time together as a family.

Happy Thanksgiving.