Slumdog Millionaire: Not too crazy about it

Spoiler alert. Oscar season is here. I’ve seen all the movies in the major categories and some. At the risk of sounding crabby and uncool–not with it, I wasn’t enamored with Slumdog Millionaire. Yes, yes, yes, I know the movie is considered mighty fine, and a shoo in to bring home Oscar on Sunday, but at times when asked what I thought about it, I’ve declared, “I hated it.”

That’s not true. I didn’t hate, it but I’m not fond of it either. Of the movies nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, I liked it the least. Somewhere during the middle of the movie, about the time the two brothers were tossed off the train, I had an unsettled feeling, a bit of unease–the feeling that I was being manipulated to have certain ideas about India, poverty, and what might make it feel better. It felt exploitative in a Hollywood, feel good kind of way.

I have company. In a conversation with former Peace Corps volunteers, we tried to pinpoint what bothered us the most about the film. We didn’t come up with anything specific, but it has something to do with our own experiences of living in the midst of poverty, and how the movie piled on bad news in huge helpings with only one solution to address the mess–win gobs of money and get the girl. .

It’s not that there aren’t kids who get maimed to make them better beggars. There are–some. I’d say not many. It’s not that people haven’t been killed in India because of unrest between the Muslims and the Hindus (or Christians for that matter). Some have been. It’s not that there isn’t organized crime in India. There is. And, it’s not that the police wouldn’t torture a person in India. Some do. Throw in the prostitution angle and the movie covers it all. Not the bride burning, though. That wasn’t included–it must have been left off the laundry list of bad things to include in the repertoire of really, really bad things that happen to people in India. (I’d venture to say, there are equally bad things that might happen anywhere, but India is in these days, particularly since any one who needs assistance over the phone is likely to be talking to someone in India.)

So, here we have a movie that piles on all the worst India offers on it’s worst days and shows seemingly endless scenes of torture and child endangerment. But, it’s a feel good movie because at the end, the bad guys are dead, the police turn nice, the talk show host has a change of heart, and one of the only two positive characters in the storyline wins amounts of money that most of us will never see. PLUS, he gets the girl–the girl being the only other character that audience members are coached into caring about.

The way I see it, Slumdog Millionaire took the darker side of India and turned it into a movie that those of us who will plop down money on movie tickets feel good about seeing. At the end of the movie, we feel good because love persevered. Too bad about the blind kid, though–and the brother gone bad did make a bold statement about getting money through organized crime when he arranged himself in a bathtub filled with crisp bills knowing he’d be gunned down in a blood battle.

If I hadn’t lived in India or The Gambia, I might have liked Slumdog Millionaire better. But I feel like it took an outsiders view under the guise of capturing reality. Some might say that the movie showed what poverty is like. Really? Only the beginning scenes showed the closeness and organization that occurs every day in a jugghi colony –the version of poverty I’ve seen–the kind not jazzed up by fantastical events. In my mind, poverty was not the biggest reason the three kids were in jeopardy. Religious unrest and hatred was. That was barely addressed in the movie and was used merely as a vehicle to kill off Mom so the rest of the story could occur.

There were two scenes, though, that felt like perfect pitch. One was at the Taj Mahal. Although it was a volume turned up version, the interaction between westerners who feel guilty about being tourists, and the people who make money off that guilt was fairly accurate in its intention. Still, it was a parody of American tourists. Are we that hapless and clueless? My experience of the Taj Mahal is that, although you might be swarmed by people trying to sell you post cards as you beeline from your vehicle to inside the Taj Mahal complex, in general, you’re not going to be ripped off if you look for official tour guides. The over the top part was the car being stripped. Could it happen? Sure, I suppose. I never heard about it happening though.

The other scene was when the two brothers were being chased by the police when they were young. This was perhaps my favorite scene. What I liked about it was it captured the essence of rambunctious boys and authorities who try to keep them in line. My impression is that this is a cat and mouse game that happens daily with no one getting hurt.

When I saw Slumdog Millionaire, it felt like dining at a huge buffet with every kind of food imaginable, but after the experience, I wasn’t sure exactly what I ate.

Here’s what I think would make for a better movie. Show kids from a jugghi colony that have been cast in a blockbuster movie and what it’s like for them to have this experience, particularly once the cameras have stopped rolling. From what I’ve heard and read, a trust fund has been set up for the children who were cast as the childhood versions of the grown up characters. The kids have also been enrolled in school, but in general, their lives are the same. Tinseltown didn’t change them much. However, they are going to attend the Oscar award ceremony. (See photo of Rubino Ali, the young girl who played Latika in her house in India.) That might change them a bit.

Here’s what I’m wondering. If the kids who are living in poverty are having valuable lives with meaning and depth–which I think they are, and obviously Danny Boyle thought so too since he left the children where he found them, then why is there the notion that in order to solve life’s problems, we need to be millionaires? As much as we were told that the main character didn’t care about the money, then why did he need to win it in the end?

Of course, I was happy he won it. It’s Hollywood. And the dance scene while the credits rolled was excellent.

President Kennedy was killed 45 years ago today. Where to head to remember him

“If we can not end now our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity.”

John F. Kennedy

John F. Kennedy was assassinated 45 years ago today. As one of the events that certainly shaped the collective consciousness of Americans, at least in my opinion, here are places I’ve been where I’ve thought of Kennedy and that fateful day where the words “grassy knoll” and “book depository” became part of history books.

As a former Peace Corps volunteer, his legacy has touched me personally.

Place 1: Dealy Plaza and the grassy knoll. There is a plaque here to commemorate Kennedy. The grassy knoll was made famous by the idea that Lee Harvey Oswald did not act alone. Theories abound that shots were fired from the grassy knoll as well. If you drive along Elm Street, you’ll be on the route Kennedy’s limousine was following when he became Oswald’s target. The plaza is a National Historic Landmark.

Place 2: Sixth Floor Museum at Dealy Plaza in Dallas, Texas. Located in what was formerly called the Texas School Book Depository, the museum chronicles Kennedy’s life and death. (Although, I’ve been by the building, I’ve not been to the museum.)

Place 3–The limousine that Kennedy was riding in on the day he was shot can be seen at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. I have been here. The rest of the museum is also worth a visit. It can take hours to see everything.

Place 4–His grave at Arlington National Cemetery. His inaugural address was used as the grave’s inscription.

Place 5–One place I have not been is the JFK Library & Museum in Boston, MA. Here you can learn more about Kennedy’s life and presidency through films and artifacts. Jacqueline Kennedy’s life is also included in the mix.

Here is another Kennedy quote that reminds me of travelers. Its message encapsulates one idea of what draws people towards distant horizons from where they were born. But it is also what pulls them back to the familiar.

“All of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea — whether it is to sail or to watch it — we are going back from whence we came.”

When is it stupid to step on a ferry or climb in a large wooden boat?

The news of the recent ferry accident in the Philippines reminded me of the many ferries I’ve taken in my travels. The journey across the wide mouth of the Gambia River between Banjul, the capital, and Barra, on the side of The Gambia where I lived, comes to mind the most.

Sometimes I made the trip in a large open wooden boat called a pirogue that would have given my mother a heart attack if she had known what I was up to.

When traveling in countries where bridges are scarce, ferry crossings are necessary. If you want to get from here to there, you step on. Generally, thoughts of accidents and the lack of life preservers are fleeting. Instead, one enjoys the thrill of watching one shore grow further away as another comes closer.

In the Gambia, a ferry is filled with people, cars, trucks, animals, motorcycles–basically whatever can be crammed on. It’s a mish mash of no order in particular. I always headed to the top deck to escape the crush.

Of all the crossings I’ve made in my life–and I’m not sure I could count them all, there’s only one that I should have never tried. Once, in a hurry to get to Banjul and not willing to wait for calmer waters, I climbed into one of the large wooden boats as it rocked furiously on the churning river.

A storm might have been coming in, but the owner of the boat, probably looking to make some money, embarked on the trip with about 70 people perched on the wooden boards that served as benches. Every once in a while, the top edge of the boat dipped within a few inches of the surface. We all shrieked each time.

Halfway out, my friend said to me, “If the boat turns over, swim away from it as fast as you can and wait.”

The idea was that the people who couldn’t swim would drown and we could swim back to the boat to hold on until rescued. If we stayed around the boat, people would pull us under.

Sure, I nodded, imagining myself a very strong swimmer, and not thinking too deeply about what such an accident would actually look like.

The truth is, I’m not a strong swimmer but at age 22 that sounded like a plausible plan. As years have passed, I realize just how dumb we were to get on that boat. And, lucky that we made it to the other side.

The last time I took the big ferry across, a cow fell off of it into the water after the ferry pulled away from shore. As I watched the cow swim towards land, its head and horns visible, I wondered just how the owner would get it back. The great thing about The Gambia is that someone would have held onto that cow until the owner came back to get it, even if it took all day and more.

This is a picture I took of the ferry in The Gambia. I was heading to the top deck. The quality stinks, (it’s an old photo, but you get the idea.) For a better picture, click here.

The top picture is of one of the boats similar to the one I took whenever I didn’t take a ferry. The crossing was not quick.

For a detailed account of the ferry crossings in Banjul and a visual look at how wide that river is, click here.

Good Deed Travel: Building houses in Mexico. The why factor

When I told some people I was heading to Mexico to build houses there was a mixed reaction.

  • Some people wanted to know how they could go along.
  • Some thought that this was the greatest idea since sliced bread.
  • Some gave money to help fund our endeavor
  • Some were wary of the value of a bunch of high schoolers and adults descending into Mexico across from Tijuana to build houses in order to make the world a better place.
  • Some thought it was a good idea that we build houses in Mexico to help keep Mexicans in Mexico.
  • One person thought it ironic that I was going to Mexico to build houses when there are so many Mexican immigrants building houses here.

Such are the types of comments people make to those who are embarking on do good travel. Even Rick Steves has something to say.

Rick Steves is wary of groups, such as churches, who go to Mexico to build houses. (See post) In a nutshell, if I’m interpreting him correctly, he thinks these trips are feel good experiences for the participants, but don’t do much to help the world. He likes do good travel, but he doesn’t think this type of trip is it.

“Oh, that’s just great,” I thought as I was watching the video of his philosophical musings. I had already plopped down my deposit money for such a venture.

What was my motivation? Am I just a do-gooder at heart? Or was there something else?

I like the idea of doing good. Sometimes, I do do good, I think. But, being the curious sort who looks at most of life as a grand sociological experiment, I wanted to see what such a trip would be like–and I thought it would be a way to spend some time with my 9th grade daughter. Most of our days are spent flying about our lives at such a speed that we rarely settle down to see what’s going on with either of us. Those of you who have 9th graders know that sometimes getting info from them about their inner workings is like getting gold from Ft. Knox.

I also thought this trip to Mexico would be good for her to learn more about herself and see part of the world she hasn’t been before. Plus, she could see the value of being a do good traveler. She’s a traveler, but doing good has not been part of the focus.

The other truth is, I really, really, really wanted a trip where I could see something new. Seeing something new is how I stay sane. If it meant I had to do something good, so be it.

In all seriousness, because I was in the Peace Corps, I’m careful when it comes to do-good travel. I want to make sure that the organization offering help is not disrupting life in the country where the “good” is to occur. As far as I can tell, Amor Ministries is doing good. It works within the local communities where the houses are built.

This is not meant to push Amor Ministries or a church sponsored trip. This is just what I did. It was an easy fit. Sometimes in life, one just needs an easy fit. No fuss, no muss. There are many sectarian organizations that also do good work.

Although Rick Steves is not too enamored with groups that trot across the Mexican border for a week, I have a different take. It’s been a month since I returened from my journey to Mexico, so I’ve had time to sift through my thoughts.

What I have come up with so far is that because of our trip to Mexico:

  • 12 families have a better house to live in than they did before
  • a number of Mexican kids and American adolescents have great memories of each other
  • several high schoolers from predominately well-off backgrounds had a week where they could just be themselves without cell phones, distractions or mirrors to look into and fret over their appearance
  • adults had a chance to talk to each other about themselves and their lives without interruptions
  • adolescents and adults had a chance to work side-by-side which gave numerous opportunities to just be with each other on equal footing
  • in a pinch, I can build a house that at least puts a roof over my head, a floor under my feet and walls that should withstand wind.
  • because our church has repeated this trip for years, several people have developed a relationship with this part of Mexico and this has had an impact on subsequent work. (More on this in another post.)
  • I’d rather be building a house on a Mexican hillside than sitting out on a beach somewhere, although that beach is tempting, so I’m not opposed to those trips either.
  • Do good travel can be hell on sneakers. (Notice the sole is almost gone.)

Stay tuned for more on this do good travel in Mexico experience. I’ll even share the steps on home buildling.

Rick Steves on meaningful travel

We’ve written about Rick Steves before. Neil hates him. (Not really, just jealous as all get out) and Aaron explored Steves’ guidebook writing know-how. Not long ago, Justin put some light on Rick Steves’ rap talents, or lack thereof. I catch Rick Steves from time to time on NPR and have some jealous pangs myself.

Recently, I came across this video of Steves on YouTube where he talks about the importance of traveling with meaning. Listening to him talk about what travel means to him provides insight into what motivates any of us to head to a place that is different from where we live. In Steves’ experience, there is an aspect of a spiritual endeavor in the travel he does. “Travel to me brings people together,” he says. “If you are an independent traveler, to me, it’s a spiritual experience.” To him, there is more than going from one tourist spot to another. Admittedly, I tend to agree with him, although I like the tourist hot spot travel from time to time.

I remember when I was in the Peace Corps I felt a bit harsh towards folks who I happened across in my forays to the tourist haven of Fajara, The Gambia. From my perspective, at the time, they were wandering through the world enjoying its bits and pieces without the drive to make life better for anyone while there I was assigned to a village with the mission to “help people help themselves.” I was probably in a whiny phase because helping people was a lot harder than I anticipated. What I really craved was a head of iceberg lettuce and a bag of pretzels, the two things not to be found in The Gambia at the time that I lived there.

There are certain moments in Steves’ talk where he teeters a bit close to the voice of judgment, similar to what I felt, about what motivates people to travel. His ideas are worth thinking about, although, as I’ve become older, I’ve become gentler in my approach. In my thinking, any time anyone sets foot across the border from where he or she resides into another culture, it’s mostly a good thing. One never knows which experience will be the one that changes a life. Plus, for folks who have only two weeks of vacation a year, there’s reality to deal with. Sometimes a person just needs some R&R in order to cope with slogging through life at home. But, perhaps, that’s the difference between travel and a vacation.