NE India Trip - Hey BRO!

Border Road Organization signs, Arunachal Pradesh, India

We were bouncing on the craziest, dusty rutted road system I could imagine, heading far north into the hills of northeast India when I first smiled at one of the “BRO” signs. Like the old Burma Shave people fondly remember in the US, the BRO signs boasted of the road condition (ghastly), and with a touch of humor urged caution in driving. With quirky typos, grammar and sometimes sexist sayings they encouraged drivers to pay attention, avoid alcohol, gossip and speeding, drive with caution and honk their horns in blind curves. 

I soon realized that Bro wasn't slang but the initials for the Border Road Organization and it tickled me even more that every sign started with the word BRO. I got out a pen and paper but it was hopeless to try to write in the bouncing jeep. My butt was soon numb and as flat as the hard back seat of my brother's '96 Mahindra jeep that we traveled in with three nephews and two little pups we eventually picked up in Tawang. 

The entire state of Arunchal Pradesh seems to be occupied in the business of road construction but there was little evidence of progress. Women dressed in colorful tribal-wear often with babies on their backs and knitting in hand for break time, chipped rocks at the roadside. Occasionally there would be a short stretch of paved road but it was just a tease before clouds of dust poured back in the windows from Army convoys in front of us on the dry dusty road. Indian Army soldiers with rifles waved cheerfully from the back of their trucks at my two year old nephew. Cow, goats and yaks ambled across the road. Diverted highway stretches for roadwork were marked simply – with a boulder in the middle of the closed section. Memorial tributes scattered along the route paid tribute to those who had lost their lives in the construction of the road or who hadn't heeded BRO's wise advice. I mentally designed my memorial stone in case it was needed.

On the mornings that we got an early start we saw the day unfold at the side of the road. People watched us go by as they brushed their teeth, scrubbed and washed clothes at taps and waterfalls. Groups of kids in uniform walked to school and trucks dropped off the road side laborers. Convoys picked up and dropped off soldiers at army bases. Roadside workers enjoyed their picnics and tea breaks. 

The scenery was breathtakingly dramatic. We passed through mountains that reminded me at times of Ireland, the Peruvian Andes, the Rocky mountains and Switzerland as we headed into the foothills of the Himalayas. TATA trucks stormed up the mountains with their professed religious symbols painted on the front. From Christian symbols in Shillong, Hindu in Assam, the trucks heading north soon changed to the Buddhist Om Mani Padma Hum and had solar prayer wheels spinning efficiently on the dash. The back view reminded drivers to honk their horn “HORN DO” and "Use Dipper at Night."

 

You know me, I was in hand-painted sign heaven. Unfortunately most were in spots too dangerous to pull over for photo ops. Some of the others we remembered were:

Don't Gossip. Let him drive. 

Do not rally in the valley. 

For safe arrival, no liquor in driving. 

Leave sooner, drive slower, live longer. 

Life is a journey. Don't let yours end here. 

Check your never on my curve. 

Alert today. Alive tomorrow. 

Kindness is giving the right of way. 

This is not rally or racy; drive with gracy. 

Speed is a knife that cuts life. 

Safety is as simple as ABC. Always Be Careful. 

Wanna enjoy life fully? Drive carefully. 

NE India Trip - Old British Cemetery

Anglican Cemetery, Shillong, India

As is my custom at home and when I travel, I try to walk through a cemetery and when I was in Shillong I tracked down the old Anglican British cemetery. I would never have found it without help although it is mentioned online and probably a site still visited by descendants from England. We finally did find it after asking for directions multiple times.


The gate was locked but a groundskeeper heard us and let us in to wander. There is still a small chapel and he was using the bushes to dry laundry. Many of the tombstones had been relocated there from tea plantations and battles sites in Assam. There weren't as many women and children as I would have imagined and the cemetery is still being used for burials. It was a sweet spot and I slipped the caretaker a little money for upkeep.

She is off!

Charleston, S.C.

My plane isn't until 3:30ish but I might as well go to the airport now. My mind is buzzing and I can't sit still. Woohoo. This is so exciting.

I've talked about bits and pieces of my story but this is the short version. My father was a school teacher in Canada who decided to go to north east India in 1963 to serve as headmaster of a little elementary school that was sponsored by his church. My mother had been a nurse and although she primarily helped teach in the school she also set up a first aid shop in our living room. I was seven years old and the third of eight children.

Actually I was the third of seven children at that time. My mother was pregnant when they moved and she didn't tell anyone. My father delivered my youngest brother Jim during a wild windy night in the room next to me. My parents tossed us all in the local school barefoot with little chalkboards to write on. I sharpened my pencils with a straight razor and we hiked to the rivers on the weekends to wash clothes and bath.

Meghalaya is a beautiful part of India, tribal and hilly. Most years it is the rainiest place in the world.  The British used to call it the Scotland of the East. The Khasi tribe is matriliniel with the youngest daughter inheriting and the children take the mother's name. When it came time for high school we walked three miles into Shillong to St. Mary's High School which was taught in English. As we each finished high school we were at a bit of a loss and one after another came back to Canada or the states to fend for ourselves. I landed in Toronto for Nursing School with waist length braids, dorky glasses and everything was new and fresh. Everything.

My brother Jim came back at the age of fourteen and years later after a trip back to visit he decided Shillong was where he felt most at home. He married Val, a Khasi wife and they have three adorable boys. They lead adventure eco tours of remote areas and that is where I am going. I am taking my daughter back to see what I have been talking about all these years.

We will meet up in Newark, fly Newark to Delhi (15 hours....help me...) where a lovely lady I have only met on Facebook is going to pick us up for a quick overnight. The next morning we fly to the northeast. Jim is to pick us up and we head immediately to a village which is holding a drum festival. Beside visiting my childhood haunts, we will go to Arunachal Predash the furthest north state close to China and visit Buddhist villages. The finale before heading home is the elephant safari in Kaziranga. Back to Charleston on Dec 1st.

I doubt I will have much internet access so other than quick messages I will shut down but I'll be back!  Keep the place looking nice, no feet on the coffee table. Pick up your socks. Have a great thanksgiving and know that I am so thankful for you - all the folks who drop by and leave a friendly comment. You make my life a treat!