Monday, October 8, 2001: 15,000 kms, road harvesting, and a wire! -- Rock quary - Bidar (67 bike kms + lori)

Tad here...(just in case you were wondering)

Woke up where I went to sleep and just as dry...good things. I looked out of the tent and saw that the day was overcast, which was good news for me in that it would be cooler. I took my breakfast (more bananas) in bed and read for a bit more (life of luxury) and then packed up all the gear onto the steed again and started to take down the tent.

It was about at this time when I noticed three fellows coming from the road. They must have spotted me and decided a visit was in order. We talked in a combination of English and Hindi. One of the fellows asked me about what I thought about the war with Afghanistan. I thought he was referring to the Sept. 11 bombings in the US and possible US attacks on Afghanistan. I said something like, "I hope not." He said something about "this morning" and I couldn't understand anything more, but it made me wonder what was going in Afghanistan. Later, I thought about the fact that, behind a rock quarry, off of a small road in northern Karnataka the world news came to me at 8:00 am. Few places are isolated from global media these days, it seems.

Today's ride was extremely interesting for me and also challenging. I was passing through small villages. Many people (about 50-100 in each town) were on the road threshing some kind of grain (green dahl I understood...but could be wrong). They first laid it on the road for vehicles to pass over but also ran bullocks on it and pounded it with sticks to separate the dahl from the plant. Then they sifted it. This all took place right on the road, which meant I had a lot more interaction with men and women. Generally the interactions were quite positive and based on friendly mutual curiosity. I took a video of one farmer, however, and I think it irritated him. I thought I might show him the video and that might help him understand or at least amuse him. I made the mistake of walking behind him and I think my proximity startled him. Anyway he yelled at me and grabbed my camera, trying to wrench it from my hands. I backed off with camera in one piece, and others told me not to worry, that he didn't understand. I left saying Namaste and "shaanti" (meaning peace) and the farmer grunted in my direction. This of course is my perspective...it would be interesting to include his perspective in these journals as well.

Later, at a stop for some bread and tea I was, within seconds surrounded and kindly interrogated by an impromptu village press corp. Lunch was similar, with a larger crowd gathering to watch me eat puris and potato curry. Although my bike is a fascination too and draws away a few...it seems I am the main attraction. Usually the kids and teen boys come first and then men and later women. Then some older man tells the kids to get back and give me space and threatens to swat those who do not obey. A few swats do actually land on some little heads and I am searching for a response to this. I know I might be challenging some "status" but might be able to jokingly point out that all the grown men are curiously standing around me and that the children are just curious too.

After lunch, I decided that I would head on and forego any attempt to write on Zeek. After looking at my speedometer yesterday I realized that today would be my day to cross the 15,000 kilometer mark and so when it happened I stopped at a bridge overlooking a huge river and said a little prayer of thanks. I recounted the other milepost celebrations, 1000 miles in California, 2000 miles in Baja California, 9000 kms with Shauna in Costa Rica, 10,000 in Peru with Frank...so many experiences...so many blessings. I have been so graciously blessed with this opportunity! Thanks to my family for their continuous encouragement, Friends of PeaceBike for supporting in so many ways, and G.O.D. for weaving it all together and keeping me on a good path.

On another bridge even bigger, which I remembered from the trip with Penny I stopped for a view and realized that my front pannier was extremely loose. It turns out that the bolt which holds the lowrider rack to the braze-on on the front fork had broken. There were a few other guys on the bridge and they motioned to me to come down under the bridge and pointed to the left. I followed their hands and could see a wall of pounding rain coming towards us. One could see the droplets change the color of the river as the wall was approaching. I quickly made the bike "rain-ready" and then headed under the bridge for cover. It poured for about 5 minutes and then stopped (and we were dry!). We climbed back onto the bridge and I started to temporarily repair my rack with a bit of spare wire (thanks Dad). Two of the fellows saw me working and offered to help. The three of us wired the rack up "good enough to get me to Bidar" they said. They smiled as we finished and saw my gratitude. New friends and a wire...

I realized I wouldn't make it all the way to Bidar and when these guys driving a lori (a large truck) told me they were going to Bidar (and it was almost 6:00 pm) I decided to get there tonight as opposed to staying overnight on the road or in a village. Fyad, Alquar (spelling?), and I had a good chat. We rode through an area they told me was government forest, full of tigers! We also stopped for a drink and they bought me some hot, sweet milk (dudh...like "what's up, dude?"...in Hindi)

Got to Bidar and, after saying farewell to my lori ride fellows, I was quickly spotted by a lodge lobbyist. The price was right and I wasn't feeling too much in need of pampering. 50 rupees, a clean sheet, and a fan above sealed the deal and I had myself a shower and went to find a rice meal.

At this hotel (restaurant) I met Siddaraj, one of the coordinators for an NGO called Vidyanikethan (Society for Education and Social Development). He told me that he was visiting the coordinated self-help groups in the area and said that in the Bidar District alone there are over 1000 self-help groups for women. I was very interested in these groups and asked him about them. He told me that they are mainly for widows, handicapped, or divorced women and they help them become more independent. Each member brings a small membership fee and meeting fee to the meetings and in turn is able to use the funds of the group as a small bank for loans in cases of emergency. The popularity of the groups is exciting for me to hear. In one village Siddaraj said that the women in the group brought a request to the local government for street light that had been absent for months and within one day new lights were up. That was good news to hear and I am passing it on to you.

15,000 kilometers down the trail and thankful,

TAD