Scary and chaotic, but India's Commonwealth Games will go ahead
Monday, September 27, 2010
By Jonathan McEvoy in Delhi
Just one jammed, horn-honking road away from the Commonwealth Games stadium, the smoke of burning bodies blew high into the air above the cemetery fence.
In the eyes of the world it could have symbolised how India is piling up a funeral pyre for the old, wilting sporting event it is meant to be staging nine days from now.
The evidence to support that proposition — not least in yesterday's pictures showing the grime-infested athletes' village — is vast.
Commonwealth fever: A worker sprays chemicals in rain water outside the Athlete's Village to prevent the spread of dengue fever
Commonwealth fever: A worker sprays chemicals in rain water outside the Athlete's Village to prevent the spread of dengue fever
No nation aspiring to a serious place on the world stage can have gone about its business with less organised guile.
But my first-hand, if snapshot, experience after arriving here yesterday morning is that the Games will probably go ahead, in one diminished form or another.
As JK Galbraith, U.S. ambassador to India observed of this diverse nation in the 1960s, it amounts to 'functioning anarchy'.
One reason for my mild optimism is the sheer manpower at India’s disposal.
Only yesterday, with the carrot of perhaps 200 rupees, or nearly £3, they managed to enlist an extra 1,000 workers to undertake last-minute remedial work on the village alone.
There were others laying tarmac, grouting, sanding and sweeping throughout the other sites.
It helps when you have one billion people, most of them desperate for a folding note, to call upon.
There is also, I detected, a desire among those here to prove the world wrong.
On my arrival in Delhi — at an airport recently built to a high standard, thanks to private rather than government money — the staff were unfailingly polite.
It was a trait discernible in everyone I met.
There were special queue-avoiding routes for those of us with Commonwealth Games accreditation.
The special counter must have had 20 staff. I was the only arrival. Had they not heard that next to nobody was coming?
On to the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium, the proposed centrepiece of the Games.
The blue seats were all in, bar one or two. There was the odd rough edge, but it was an impressive bowl worthy of any sporting occasion.
‘Some of the work started in 2007 rather than 2003,’ said one German employee brought in for his expertise on such events.
‘Everything is behind schedule. This is an Indian speciality — to get it finished at the last minute.
'When they say it is ready, they mean something different from what we in the West think it means.
‘We will deliver, though. We can be quite sure of that.’
Can we be that certain?
It was only on Tuesday that the footbridge connecting the car park to the stadium collapsed, injuring 20 workers.
Part of the weight-lifting ceiling fell down the next day. And as for the athlete’s village, more of that vile cesspit to come.
The broken bridge is visible from the window of the German’s office. Only the arch remains.
What if the stadium falls down mid-competition?
‘I am sure it will be OK,’ he said.
‘The outer walls of this stadium were built for the Asian Games in 1982. They are still standing.’
An army of soldiers marched through the stadium area. They carried guns that went from their waists to their shoulders. Some ambled and lolled on the fence.
The Grenadier Guards outside Buckingham Palace they weren’t, but they were there in profusion and security checks were just about stringent enough.
A few miles away, the TV cameras were lined up at the entrance to the village. Yellow barriers with ‘Delhi Police’ on them stopped each car and pedestrian for the right accreditation.
I asked if a bribe could get me in. I was told that a week or so ago it would have done.
But now, in light of the furore over the conditions inside and the fact that the first athletes were arriving, it was impossible.
If you can’t corrupt an official in India, where can you?
Two street dogs swaggered in. Perhaps they were looking for a bed for the night, based on the paw marks, captured in pictures, on the linen meant for athletes to sleep on.
Those images, revealed yesterday, are vile.
But it is hardly surprising when in the streets outside there needs to be a sign next to a grapefruit stall imploring: ‘Do not urinate here.’
Someone I spoke to said workers had used a lavatory on the site for weeks despite the water not running.
‘What the West thinks as of as acceptable is not the same as what India thinks,’ said another Games’ employee.
‘They are sufficient unto themselves.’
The roads — the worst for crazy, lane jig-jagging I have witnessed, with the possible exception of Shanghai — were teeming.
A designated Games lane was intermittently closed yesterday. The backlogs were severe, although not worse in density than High Holborn at rush hour.
The inconvenience to the locals is one reason why The Times of India, who have been laudably independent in their coverage, carried a poll declaring that 97 per cent of the country believe the Games have tarnished India’s image.
They also can’t be pleased about the expense. Costs have gone up 525 per cent since the city won the bid. That is the official estimate.
Unofficially, it is up 1,575 per cent, or 15 times the original estimate. Apparently that equates to £2billion-plus.
What is certain is that the unusually severe monsoon has caused the Yamuna river to disgorge its worst flooding for 32 years. Its surplus water is all around the village.
In those still pools, mosquito-borne dengue fever thrives.
Three have died of it in Delhi this year, according to official figures. It has briefly indisposed several more, including the man from the Sydney Morning Herald, whose hand I shook warily.
Personally, I’m happy to apply the Jungle Formula, cover up and hope for the best. Not that the authorities were taking chances. They were fogging — flushing away the mosquitos with a giant jet-wash style hose — as I left for my hotel.
By then, the lights were going on at the Nehru stadium, named after India’s first Prime Minister, who ushered in post-British India with the beguiling phrase: ‘At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.’
The Games look like they will go on, in their own, scatty way. Pride depends on it.
But with athletes withdrawn, deadlines fumbled and security and safety concerns all too real, it will be the most chaotic and scary edition in Commonwealth history.
Labels: Commonwealth Games, India
posted @ 8:34 AM,
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