Sherry has worked with the American Red Cross and the ICRC providing tracing services to refugees during the Crisis in Kosovo and worked in Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Germany, and Bosnia providing emergency services to deployed military personnel. She has also served as a Vice President for Development, State Executive Director, Director of External Relations and a Grant Coordinator.

Sherry is a graduate of the SIT Graduate Institute with a MS in Organizational Management and UNC-Chapel Hill with a BA in Sociology. She also holds a Graduate Certificate in Security Studies. Her placement as our new leader brings strategic foresight to build on the success of Nanubhai Education Foundation and help navigate the organization to the next level. We are excited to have Sherry as our new Executive Director and we look forward to your continued support and partnership as we welcome her in her new role.

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There are many types of transportation that I’ve seen used here in India. To get to Bardoli, we started by taking a plane from Boston to Paris and then to Mumbai. From there we got a taxi, then caught a train to Surat, and then took a car to Bardoli. Once G and I got here, we settled in and then were whisked away on motorbikes to go shopping for food and clothes. The motorbikes have been my favorite type of transportation that we’ve taken so far. At first I was worried about tipping over, but they were much more stable than I expected and zipping around through traffic was great fun!

In the last couple of weeks here, we’ve mostly used walking to get around Bardoli. Our trips to Station Road seemed long at first, but now we’ve gotten used to the walk and head over there almost everyday for a juice or milkshake at our favorite juice bar. Occasionally we have taken rickshaws to get around, but our first long rickshaw trip was when we headed off to Mumbai for a weekend of sightseeing.

We woke up early in the morning on Friday, hurriedly finished our packing, and headed downstairs to meet our rickshaw driver. We set off for the train station in Surat, and the ride was long but comfortable. The rickshaws may not go as fast as cars, but they’re smaller and can more easily weave through the clustered roads full of slow traffic. It’s easier to see the landscape through the open sides of a rickshaw than through the windows of a car or train, and on our way I saw fields of crops scattered with people, women in every color sari imaginable, and clusters of shops that seemed quiet and sleepy in the early morning light.

The seats on our train to Mumbai were comfortable and spacious. I slept for a few minutes at a time, then watched out the window, then read my book and listened to music. We arrived at Mumbai Central and hailed a taxi to take us to Andheri. This was the wildest ride we’ve encountered so far in India. Our driver took us on the ceiling road over the city, and we weaved through traffic with incredible speed. Our driver was not messing around, and he was going to make our ride as short as possible by going as fast as he could. The windows were open and the wind whipped through the taxi, bringing in dirt that stung my eyes. This ride was certainly an adventure.

Riding the local train in Mumbai!

The next day we headed off for some sightseeing. We rode the Mumbai Metro to a nearby train station, and I was happily surprised by how modern and pleasant the Metro was. Our local train did not share these same qualities. We were forced to shove ourselves onto the train, pushing into tightly packed bodies to find ourselves with barely enough room to reach up and hang on to the handles for balance. We were lucky to have chosen the all-women’s cart. The other option would have been significantly more uncomfortable. After a little while on the train, it began to empty out and we were able to lean out the doors to feel the fresh air rushing past.

During our time in Mumbai, we took more taxis and trains as we made our way through the city. We were constantly met with packs of people and vehicles that made things as simple as  crossing the street seem much too daunting to be achievable. On our way back to Bardoli, we took a rickshaw and I observed the different means of transportation that covered the roads. The one thing that these rickshaws, trains, taxis, buses, wagons, and motorbikes have in common is that each can be seen stuffed with more people than I could ever imagine safely fitting without maxing out capacity. One thing I am still discovering in India is the sheer number of people that inhabit these areas and travel along the roads and streets, going about their daily tasks in clusters and groups larger than I could have imagined possible.

Photocredit: Giannina Gaspero-Beckstrom. A group of enthusiastic guys wave to us as our rickshaw buzzes past on our way to the train station in Surat.

Riding on Mitesh’s motorbike!

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Friday, 10 June 2016

“Today is Mango Day,” said Mitesh, as he presented to us a heaping platter of freshly cut mangoes from his own trees. “More mangoes?!” we exclaimed, as we licked desi mango juice off our fingers. Really, if we wanted, every day could be Mango Day because it’s summertime in Bardoli and mangoes are plentiful and famously delicious. And we probably already cut up at least one mango daily… So although today’s mangoes were a special treat, it had nothing to do with the mangoes. It had everything to do with the people eating them.

It’s Friday, and the end of our first super-busy week. Nearly 70 candidates came to the office to interview for a Nanubhai scholarship over the past three days, and as tired as we interns were, we could see that Jayesh and Mitesh were even more so. Since we don’t speak Gujarati, our tasks are limited, and everything else falls on Mitesh and Jayesh and ex-Principal Mahida Sir (one of NEF’s founders who helps interview applicants). So today we started the day later than usual, and when Mitesh showed up he came carrying a big cloth bag full of mangoes from his trees at home.

About half of them were desi mangoes, which are smaller and apparently of little worth. “If ever you see desi mango on a tree, you can take it and eat it. Nobody cares if you take their desi mangoes, because they’re just desi mangoes,” Jayesh told us, half-jokingly. They taste a little different, and they’re harder to eat. In fact, you don’t really eat them – you suck them! First you poke and squish the mango with your fingers until it’s mushy to the touch. Essentially, you’re creating a pulpy juice underneath the skin. Then you cut off the little button stem and squeeze until a little juice comes out. Then you proceed to suck the juice out, much like I imagine a hungry spider would devour the insides of an especially chubby fly.

The other half of Mitesh’s mangoes were of the keshar variety, and look very much like what most Americans would consider all mangoes to look like. (Having lived in Bardoli for nearly a month, I like to consider myself a mango connoisseur.) These he cut up and piled onto a silver stainless-steel platter, and the glistening slices looked almost too good to eat with their energetic, polluted-sky-at-sunset-esque color.

You see, last night I had a bout of heat sickness that left me pale, nauseous and clammy. I think I was also slightly feverish because I felt way hotter than normal and my dreams were super weird. I woke up this morning feeling much better but still with a headache and general grogginess. So the slow-going day was well received by my slow-going brain… but little did I know, mangoes were to the rescue!

The mangoes were delightful, and the five of us gobbled them up like happy children. We dubbed ourselves “Team Mango Party” and relished in the joy of the sweet, summertime fruit. Before long, only limp mango skins were left on the platter, and our fingers and lips were sticky with mango juice. As I leaned back and folded my hands over my belly, satisfyingly filled with mango-meat and residual laughter, I realized my head no longer hurt and by body no longer ached! They say laughter is the best medicine – and although I agree, I must say that if you add mangoes into the equation, it’s infallible.

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As someone who has recently developed an interest in architecture, being in India has opened my eyes to many unique building styles. Architecture can be used as propaganda, or a symbol of status, or a tribute to culture. To quote my art history professor, “a residence is a construction of identity, with a message to convey.” The styles here are unlike any of the styles that I have studied, and are diverse with many variations. There are rows of houses complete with ornate fixings and gold detailing. These elements are impressive and immediately drew my eye. Although the styles may be different from what I’m used to, it is still clear how the details like gold and other designs are used here to show higher status.

Ever since we spent a weekend in Mumbai, I’ve been struck by the juxtaposition of these well-maintained and decorated homes with humble structures that are used as living areas, made of tarps, sticks, and other random materials. This contrast makes the extravagant details of the richer houses pop, while making the other structures seem even more modest. I have no idea what the day to day lives of the owners of these residences are like, but their homes project a certain idea of their identity. I’d imagine the owners of the more decorated homes are the well dressed business men that I’ve seen driving their nice cars through the streets or working in the more expensive shops. The owners of the other structures are more difficult to place. I do not mean to make presumptions or judge these books by their covers, but trying to decipher the messages hidden by these elements of these residences is immensely interesting to me and I hope will better help me understand some aspects of Indian culture.

I have tried to do some research on the architecture here and what it takes its influence from. I could not find much information, but the houses seem to be structured to best suit the lifestyle and atmosphere here. Most have a bottom floor that opens to the outdoors, or at least one porch to be used to escape the stuffy heat. The styles could be inspired by some of the many old Gujarati buildings that are famous for their beautiful architecture, and are still popular tourist destinations today. Elements of modern architecture blend with these old inspirations to create unique and beautiful buildings all over Gujarat. Color is used as a more modern twist to spice up the architectural style used in Bardoli. Overall, I’d say the style here shows an appreciation for history and culture, while also displaying the ability to mix with current ideals of beauty and space.

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Kristine and Mitesh filling in some forms as applicants wait for their interviews on June 7. photocredit: Giannina Gaspero-Beckstrom

Hi everyone! My name is Kristine, and I’m working on monitoring and evaluation (M&E) as an intern with the Nanubhai Education Foundation (NEF) this summer.

M&E is a very important aspect of good development/non-profit work. The purpose of M&E is to make sure that good intentions become good actions. It ensures that programming is appropriate for a particular context and that it is having a positive impact. It also safeguards against potentially negative side effects in partner communities by establishing a commitment to the development principle of “Do No Harm.”

It is critical to apply the M&E lens to NEF’s work in rural Gujarat and Rajasthan. The idea of higher education scholarships for girls sounds good, but we must measure and track whether the aims of the program – primarily increased self-sufficiency and financial stability – are actually being achieved when the program is implemented. Additionally, we must question whether or not our programming makes sense in the context of rural Gujarat and Rajasthan. We need to ask meaningful questions, like whether or not families in our target communities actually want this kind of programming, or if we are offering a solution that might not actually meet their needs. NEF’s commitment to asking these questions and thoroughly measuring our impact sets us apart from other small Indian and international non-governmental organizations.

I have only worked in Gujarat for two weeks, but I can already see a demonstrable enthusiasm for NEF’s programming. Interested applicants have flooded into our office on a daily basis. Just this morning, several girls waited outside of our office for more than an hour before we opened to submit applications or hand in newly released test scores in the hope of strengthening their likelihood of securing a scholarship.

Kristine and Mitesh checking in applicants for their interviews on June 7. photocredit: Giannina Gaspero-Beckstrom

This anecdotal evidence is not the only indication that NEF is doing good work. The sheer number of applicants supports the idea that NEF’s programming is desired by those in our target communities in Gujarat and Rajasthan. We received 350 applications for approximately 35 scholarships in Gujarat this year, and 42 applied for approximately 10 scholarships in Rajasthan.

Our team will continue to work this summer to measure NEF’s impact, ensuring that we are “doing no harm” and achieving concrete goals. First impressions indicate that we are doing just that, and that our work is positive and desired by our partner communities.

By Kristine Landau

June 1st, 2016

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Photo credit: Kristine Landau, a.k.a. the brave soul who I convinced to ride this thing with me

On instagram, the location tag for Bardoli reads “Bardoli, City of Love” or “Bardoli, Paris of India.” As I’m rounding my third week here, I think I’m starting to grasp why Bardoli has been given (or perhaps given itself) such a title. It’s a sunset-city, an after-dusk sort of place to be. It comes alive in the absence of the strong sun, and bustles with its own colorful light as the breezy evening emerges. The sun sinks, the rickety, rainbow ferris wheel starts spinning, and by the time the last shadows have melted into the night, the streets are buzzing with smells and sounds all around. Indeed, it’s lovely.

Granted, I think I entered life in Bardoli during the most romantic time of the year. Anticipation for the coming monsoon climbs as high as the midday temperatures, and students are relishing in their last days of summer vacation. Mango stands and kulfi carts line the busy road, and impromptu cricket games commence at sunset in the side streets. From the fairground, ribbons of Indian pop music weave through the humid air that will soon be blanketed in sheets of monsoon rain.

My father, who spent some years living in India when he was just a bit older than I am now, told me his favorite (and only) way to describe it: a sensory overload. Bardoli seems to be no exception. Dusty yet colorful, the city yields new smells and sounds at every other turn. Discarded plastic and mango pits line the roads, to be washed away into the black river near the main road when the monsoon comes. Cows stroll about casually, and stray dogs move in packs. Wooden-wheeled carts decorated with lively vegetables roll along the road next to whizzing motorbikes and rickshaws, which are perpetually performing a symphony of beeps and honks. The smell of street food wafts and beckons, and wallahs and the occasional confident passerby call out “hello!” to us. As obvious foreigners we receive lots of curious stares.

Then there’s the ferris wheel. It’s fantastic! I was in love at first sight. Eventually Kristine agreed to ride it with me, so one day we went at sunset, thinking it’d be beautiful to see from the top of the wheel. We didn’t really have the time to focus on the sunset though, because the rickety old thing started spinning so fast we thought we’d fall out of our little tin compartment! We were the only ones on the whole ferris wheel, so our momentum swung us dramatically as we rode the endless curve. Heart pounding, stomach flipping, hair and scarf flailing in the wind… I loved it!

I can’t deny that riding the ferris wheel was terrifying, but the experience called for a certain mindset that I’ve encountered here in Bardoli more than anywhere else. It’s a “go with the flow” sort of vibe, or a widespread “let’s just see how it goes” mentality. Compared to what I’m used to in the U.S. – particularly academic environments – it’s a breath of samosa-scented fresh air. I felt helpless as we zoomed through the air, and frankly unsure of the outcome of our decision to board this thing, but there was nothing to do but keep on riding.

So here I am, in the “Paris of India,” riding a 3-month long ferris wheel of an experience, complete with highs and lows and an all-around air of excitement. The ride so far has left me spinning with thoughts and reflections and questions and answers! I have a feeling that’ll persist until the end, so I’m trying to embrace the lovely mindset Bardoli has demonstrated to me. I’m very lucky, because by working with Nanubhai I think I’m seeing some views more comparable to the one I’d get from the top of the ferris wheel. For that I’m very grateful. 

a quick selfie… taken a few moments before the terrifying part kicked in

Photo credit: Kristine Landau

Photo credit: Kristine Landau

Photo credit: Kristine Landau. Emma and I standing on the roof watching the sunset over the “City of Love!” The ferris wheel can be seen spinning away to my left.

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One of Nanubhai’s 2016 interns, Emma, writes about her thoughts on her first few days in India. 

My first impression of India and our office in Bardoli is that it is nothing like what I had imagined. In my head, Bardoli was a small town with a few shops and not a high population. In reality, Bardoli is bustling with activity. From dense traffic in the roads to swarms of people everywhere you look, this city is nothing like I’d pictured. These last few days in India I’ve realized how utterly different it is than anywhere I’ve ever been. So, I guess it makes sense that the image in my head before I came here was totally off.

While preparing for my trip to India, I was given countless warnings of how dangerous it could be and was frequently told all of the things that could go wrong. My mom even made me purchase pepper spray and a whistle to carry with me for protection (she’s a typical overprotective mother). So far, every single person that I’ve met here has been extremely kind and helpful. While Giannina and I were traveling, we found assistance every step of the way and I always felt safe and well looked after.

One of my favorite memories of my first few days here in Bardoli is of the first time Giannina, Kristine and I went out for dinner on our own. We found a nearby restaurant and were welcomed by a crowd of smiling people, including some young children who seemed especially interested in our presence. No one there spoke English, and we were immediately offered food with no need for us to struggle through choosing from a menu that we would most likely have no ability to understand. Throughout our meal a few people helped instruct us on how we should eat the different elements on our plates. The proper way seemed to be to rip off pieces of the tortilla-like food (called roti) and dip this in the various other dishes. The food was delicious but seemed very spicy to me, although I have always been sensitive to spice. Giannina also enjoyed the food, but she ended up getting a nosebleed from the intense spices! Once we finished our meal, they requested that we take a photo with some of the young girls in the restaurant. Of course we were happy to do this after they had treated us so well. Throughout our time there, we were constantly met with patient smiles and kind curiosity. All of this kindness has made me feel even more excited to be starting this adventure in India.

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Mumbai, India: A confident taxi driver driving us from our hotel to the train station. A first impression of Mumbai from this taxi ride: colorful!

NEF’s 2016 social media intern Giannina G.B. writes about her first impressions of India.

20 May, 2016

Exactly a week ago, I was wiping sweat off my brow as I struggled to move out of my freshman dorm at the University of Vermont. I remember thinking wow, I haven’t sweat from just daytime heat in like, nine months! How sweet the summer weather is! Classic Vermonter.

I neglected to think about the fact that one week later – that is, today – I’d be settling into my new home for the summer in Bardoli, India, where a current heat wave has been getting international attention for its severity. Right now, I’m trying not to think about it! I find that the heavy heat is more bearable if you ignore it. Massive volumes of sweat aside, I’m delighted to be here.

The over-thinker in me tells me I have lots to think about. En route from Mumbai to Bardoli, I saw a lot of striking scenes… striking to me, anyhow. What I’ve seen of India is very different than my home in Vermont. Here, there is lots of litter around: plastic bottles, discarded wrappers, and a surprising amount of single plastic sandals make up the most of what I noticed. There are homes of all sorts of shapes and sizes in places I didn’t expect to see a home. Tarps and ropes and sticks and rocks have been arranged into shelters along the railroad tracks and on the sides of busy roads. Humans are everywhere and their movement is graceful and chaotic. It seems that rules of the road – like which direction to drive in and what constitutes a road – are just casual suggestions that the bustling mass of drivers obey only sometimes.

What’s stuck me the most, though, is the unceremonious kindness of everybody we encountered. Hailing from rural Vermont, I’ve always been skeptical of busy city folk, though now I wish I had had more faith. In Mumbai, a string of unrelated strangers gently guided Emma and I from the airport in Mumbai to the train station in Surat by appearing just when we started to feel like we needed it. Most notably, a young mother who sat across from us on the train got off at the same stop as us and did so efficiently, despite her many bags and children. When she saw that we did not get off after her, she came back to the door and helped Emma and I squeeze our way through the stifling crowd of pushy people trying to get on as we tried to get off. Without her, I wonder if we would have gotten off the train at all.

The adaptive traveler in me tells me not to think so much –  just to experience and to learn from it. Maybe that seems silly, but I have a feeling this will work better, at least as I’m still settling into life in Bardoli. So far, all of my predictions and expectations have been wrong: I underestimated the heat and I overestimated the hostility of cityfolk and strangers. I’m thinking that for the next three months, I’ll leave my estimations at the door with my sandals.

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Being in India, sometimes feels like being in a strange twilight zone where time doesn’t function quite as those in the West are accustomed to. Part of this problem is caused by the technology available to us in the Bardoli office. NEF is, by Indian standards, pretty advanced technologically, but in comparison to a Western office, the set up is very different.

For instance as I currently work on this blog, the internet has gone out. We luckily still have power so we can still get some things done, but anything requiring internet is impossible for who knows how long. A lot of our work and data, we keep stored in google docs so sometimes the internet being down really impedes our progress. When it monsoons, the power often will go out for hours at a time with no signs of when it will return. Whenever this happens, work almost comes to a standstill. We can get some work done without the power if our laptops are charged, but if your battery is dead, you’re basically out of commission until the power comes back on.

We also don’t have the same sort of equipment that most Western offices have. The interns, Jayesh, and Sarah all work on their personal laptops. I also worked on my personal laptop until it crashed midway through July. So Mitesh and I use the laptops that Sarah’s school donated to NEF. Being that all of our laptops are different models, makes, and years, this causes a lot of compatibility issues that we have to work through. It’s a lot more complicated than in a Western office where everyone would have a company computer that more or less has the same programs on it. The office also has a small printer and scanner we use pretty regularly, but if we need to make multiple copies of a document, we have to take it to a xerox shop because it’s much cheaper.

At any moment, we could be having to deal with one or all or some combination of these difficulties in the office. It’s kind of like working in a space-time continuum where it requires twice as much effort to get half as much work done. As interns, we’ve had to be flexible with our work and schedule based off of the office environment at the time, and despite the setbacks, we’ve been able to adapt and really have accomplished quite a lot this summer.

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After seven weeks of waking up to water buffaloes stomping down on the dusty backroad and chasing

the Gujarat Road Transport Bus, I am finally back home to normalcy. And this normalcy feels vague.

Almost unreal. When I geared up to spend seven weeks in Bardoli, otherwise known as the “Paris of

India,” I never thought that there would be ambiguous elements of this state which I would long for

after I left.

There were those pintsized streams, green lapses of evolving food in the middle of nowhere and mud

houses. Beneath these landscapes, I gained an erudition in the world of sentiments. There were strings

of stories and interviews which I garnered into sentences of memories. They made me ponder and muse

about a life so different from mine and yet so similar. I think about those girls ever so often. Every single

anecdote of them has now gained significance; I know their stories, half-written stories.

Gujarati linked me with those girls. Gujarati, the language of my roots. My fluency in Gujarati: a skill I

overlook. Their stories is a language of hope. Their hope is so reminiscent of the history of Bardoli, a

town where the locals embraced awkwardly lost interns walking around in circles. Hope in Bardoli also

takes me back to the Indian independence movement. There were incidences that took place in Bardoli

which completely evolved the roots of the Indian independence movement. After a summer in this

city of history, I can imagine Nanubhai as a symbol of independence and freedom. They, too are giving

girls wings to fly. As Malala Yousafzai said:

“Let us remember: One book, one pen, one child, and one teacher can change the world.”

Working with Nanubhai this summer and contributing to this goal has been a wonderful experience.

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