This came to me via indieproducer.net, and I whole heartedly second their opinion!
From time to time we come across incredible people leading heroic lives. The documentary "The Day My God Died" is an example of some of these people. When iP member Jane Charles brought this documentary to our attention we felt obligated to help raise awareness. For more information you can ask Jane on her indieproducer web page (click on her name above) and she'll happily update you iP Team.
The Day My God Died
Fund Raiser for Not For Sale Campaign
Please join us in our effort to raise funds to prevent the trafficking of young girls from Nepal into India.
This is an event not to be missed. Please see the web invitation for more details regarding the exciting presentations planned for the evening and our fundraising goals.
warmly,
Jeffrey Brown
Date:
April 14th, 2009, 7pm - 9pm
Location:
The Home of Janice and Matt Barger
Address:
800 Corte Madera Avenue
Corte Madera, CA 94925
You have been invited to a fund raiser to fight human trafficking in Nepal
Link to Invitation
Come to a wonderful evening event to meet modern day heroes: David Batstone, Brigitte Cazalis and Joe Collins to learn about their inspirational work.
Not For Sale is an non-profit agency that fights slavery globally.
If you don't live in the Bay Area, you can learn about ways you can help on the Web site.
Showing posts with label india. Show all posts
Showing posts with label india. Show all posts
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Not exactly an excuse...
I never blogged while I was in India because then I would have had to make the choice between participating in life there or writing about participating in life there...
With complete vivid recollection, it was my intention to relive my experiences through blogging. I started to and then the world, I mean my computer (sometimes known as the confuser) went to pot... not exactly crashed, but my Lord ~ or Ganesha, Durga, Shiva, Krishna as the case may be ~ I have been in digital media hell.. or more like limbo... waiting to be reincarnated again!
Things are slowly but surely on the mend and so I will resume writing my memoirs in the not too distant future.
For followers of Mismo... we are getting close to having the film complete. We're currently scoring the music and color correcting. In the months ahead, we hope to have exciting news to share, so stay tuned.
With complete vivid recollection, it was my intention to relive my experiences through blogging. I started to and then the world, I mean my computer (sometimes known as the confuser) went to pot... not exactly crashed, but my Lord ~ or Ganesha, Durga, Shiva, Krishna as the case may be ~ I have been in digital media hell.. or more like limbo... waiting to be reincarnated again!
Things are slowly but surely on the mend and so I will resume writing my memoirs in the not too distant future.
For followers of Mismo... we are getting close to having the film complete. We're currently scoring the music and color correcting. In the months ahead, we hope to have exciting news to share, so stay tuned.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Arriving in Chennai, India
After three days of traveling, the true journey began… I arrived in Chennai at 11:00 pm on Saturday, December 27th, 2008.
After maneuvering the higgledy-piggledy passport checkpoint, I emerged unceremoniously onto the balmy Madras sidewalk. Faced with a wall of brown faces searching for their loved ones, or unsuspecting tourists, my focus was solely on the sign bearing my name.
Alas, no such sign was in evidence.
The local currency had to be acquired, which meant a walk down the sidewalk to a nearby ATM. The journey secured me a tenacious tout offering his services. No matter how many times I said, "no thank you," he kept by my side. A few minutes later, a small fortune in hand, I walked back towards the airport. I didn’t want to be rude. I felt bad for him merely trying to secure a job, but eventually rudeness prevailed. Actually, it was more of a sharp, definitive, "No." Kind of like talking to a naughty puppy, I noted. Nonetheless, he remained within earshot.
My traveling companion was overwhelmed and of no use whatsover and so I deposited him with the luggage while I trawled back up and down the line in search of our driver. Judging by the crowd and endless sound of car horns, I suspected the driver was merely late. I had complete faith he would be there… eventually. Thinking that a phone call might be the solution, I braved my way to a kiosk across the street and bought two bottles of water so I could have small change for the phone. It was a breeze… nothing to be afraid of. In fact, the people were friendly and I learned that the going rate for a bottle of water was 13 rupees.
Back with my companions, the one with whom I was traveling and my newly-found service provider, I said, “We have to make a phone call.” And sure enough, the man was of service. He borrowed someone’s cell phone for me to use. "Very good madam," was the first of thousand very good madams that I would hear and come to love.
As I was connecting with our hotel, our driver appeared suddenly like magic, which is, I discovered, often how things work in India.
Our driver took control of my luggage and following his lead, I gave our helper a tip… which is also how things work in India.
I asked our driver his name, as I would anyone with whom I interacted in India. His name was Pondy and he would become my friend.
Tucked in the back of Pondy's trusty Ambassador, we made our way through Chennai onto the dark highway to Mamallapuram. I kept my eyes scanned for the miles of shanty towns that I had been warned and read about. Maybe I didn't see them because all was dark or maybe I didn't see them because I was in heaven... I was finally in India. With the window down I breathed in the balmy air and soaked in the scents and sites of India.
To be continued…
After maneuvering the higgledy-piggledy passport checkpoint, I emerged unceremoniously onto the balmy Madras sidewalk. Faced with a wall of brown faces searching for their loved ones, or unsuspecting tourists, my focus was solely on the sign bearing my name.
Alas, no such sign was in evidence.
The local currency had to be acquired, which meant a walk down the sidewalk to a nearby ATM. The journey secured me a tenacious tout offering his services. No matter how many times I said, "no thank you," he kept by my side. A few minutes later, a small fortune in hand, I walked back towards the airport. I didn’t want to be rude. I felt bad for him merely trying to secure a job, but eventually rudeness prevailed. Actually, it was more of a sharp, definitive, "No." Kind of like talking to a naughty puppy, I noted. Nonetheless, he remained within earshot.
My traveling companion was overwhelmed and of no use whatsover and so I deposited him with the luggage while I trawled back up and down the line in search of our driver. Judging by the crowd and endless sound of car horns, I suspected the driver was merely late. I had complete faith he would be there… eventually. Thinking that a phone call might be the solution, I braved my way to a kiosk across the street and bought two bottles of water so I could have small change for the phone. It was a breeze… nothing to be afraid of. In fact, the people were friendly and I learned that the going rate for a bottle of water was 13 rupees.
Back with my companions, the one with whom I was traveling and my newly-found service provider, I said, “We have to make a phone call.” And sure enough, the man was of service. He borrowed someone’s cell phone for me to use. "Very good madam," was the first of thousand very good madams that I would hear and come to love.
As I was connecting with our hotel, our driver appeared suddenly like magic, which is, I discovered, often how things work in India.
Our driver took control of my luggage and following his lead, I gave our helper a tip… which is also how things work in India.
I asked our driver his name, as I would anyone with whom I interacted in India. His name was Pondy and he would become my friend.
Tucked in the back of Pondy's trusty Ambassador, we made our way through Chennai onto the dark highway to Mamallapuram. I kept my eyes scanned for the miles of shanty towns that I had been warned and read about. Maybe I didn't see them because all was dark or maybe I didn't see them because I was in heaven... I was finally in India. With the window down I breathed in the balmy air and soaked in the scents and sites of India.
To be continued…
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