Blogging the WSF

Mumbai, Jan 17 - January 17th, the anniversary of the day the US sent missiles into Iraq in 1991, and my older sister Sameera's birthday. It is also day 2 of the World Social Forum in Mumbai, India and the first day during which smaller plenaries and self-organized workshops begin. It is difficult to estimate how many people are here but local media are reporting 70,000 to 100,000 attendees. This is the first time I have felt totally safe in an overcrowded environment in India. I have no fear of molestation or pickpockets. The atmosphere is chaotic in the most beautiful ways. The majority of the delegates are Indian citizens or residents, representing Tibetan and Bhutanese refugees, elderly farm workers from Bihar, rural women from Tamil Nadu, and urban educated residents of the progressive state of Kerela and more.

Earlier this morning I passed by a group of Indian women from different parts of the country - each was asking if the other spoke their regional language of Tamil or Hindi - two entirely different languages. Incidentally India is the country with the largest number of distinct official languages in any one country.

Throngs of people have filled the narrow roads and alleys of the NESCO grounds here in East Goregaon, Mumbai. My grandmother lived in a municipal hut in Goregaon most of her adult life and I have memories of climbing the neighbors Guava trees to steal juicy guavas with my friends when I visted her. It is strange to be in this Northern suburb alongside tens of thousands of others, contemplating a new world.

Yesterday the opening plenary was held in the open grounds of the NESCO compound. An endless sea of people sat on the rough canvas covered grounds in the open air. They faced a stage painted black with a white outline of a world map. Speakers included Arundhati Roy, recent Nobel laureate Shirin Ebadi, Mustapha Bargouthi and others, including my all-time favorite Bollywood actress, Shabana Azmi, who has tirelessly worked for social justice issues (she starred in Fire, a brilliant and controversial English language film about a love affair between two wives in a traditional Hindu household). The plenary ended at 10 pm and taxi drivers hiked their rates to transport tired delegates home.

This morning, true to Indian standard time, the 9 am plenary on "Land, Water and Food Sovereignty" finally began at 10:30 am. An enormous confusion surrounded the daunting task of translating into the myriad languages of the delegates: Hindi, English, French, Spanish, Portugese, Tamil, etc. It seems to me that one of the challenges of building a new world is to figure out how we can talk to one another efficiently without having to give up old or learn new languages. Perhaps the WSF could invest in developing a portable translation system that would travel with the forum...

One interesting and amusing feature of this forum, distinct from last year's forum in Porto Alegre, Brazil which I attended, is the constant song and dance of Indian activists -- literally. At least 5 times during this morning's plenary, a throng of people behind a banner, banging drums and chanting slogans in hindi, walked in, interrupting speeches. The streets of the grounds are clogged with similar groups who sing about their causes and dance with abandon. Men and women mingle comfortably and dance with one another in a manner rarely seen elsewhere in Indian society -- certainly not city culture. It is a sight to see and foreign journalists and delegates are delighted to surround them with cameras and audio recorders.

The forum is clumsy and overwhelming. But it is an indication of a global awakening. When Indian farmers screwed by Monsanto hear the testimonies of Latin American farmers also screwed by Monsanto, solutions to global problems may be more visible, and the prospects of uniting globally against Monsanto and others comes closer to reality.

Despite the humidity of the Mumbai winter and the confusion and chaos typical of the World Social Forums, this particular journalist/activist feels vindicated for having gone into debt only to come home, and find another world.