As we are all packing up and saying our goodbyes, here is a snap shot of something that Em and I witnessed the other day walking along the Park Circus train tracks. We see cows, crows and all other animals along our walk everyday but this moment stuck out more than the others and led to excellent conversation. The crow was perched on the cow's head. Em and I both see it,look away but then look back because something doesn't seem quite right. The crow was picking at the cow's eye while the cow was still alive yet the cow didn't even try to get up and fight it off. Em and I were disgusted that the cow wasn't trying to get the crow to stop and that the crow was doing it in the first place.
It is such an obvious microcosm for how things appear to be at times in Kolkata. People are literally asleep on the ground, completely vulnerable and continually being beaten down whether it is from sickness, poverty, corruption, cultural traditions or a number of other things. Our reaction also fit with the larger picture. Why didn't the cow simply get up? Why don't people we see living their lives on the streets or in the slums just get out of it, get treatment, get a job, work harder? It is so easy to fall into this cycle of victim blaming. Upon closer inspection, Em and I might have seen that the cow was tethered to the post so that it couldn't move or that it had no energy to move because all it eats is the trash that it was laying on. Granted, not all of the people who we see are free of blame for their situations but most are due to circumstances out of their control, especially the children. They are born into it and learn that life. Maybe the father that Anne and I see outside of Shanti Dan everyday isn't working because he cannot use his withered legs not because he is lazy or the boy who followed me and Kristy down Sudder Street the other day asking for money had to report to a beggar master and would get beaten if he didn't have money. There usually is a reason why a person is in the situation they are in but we are not likely to automatically think that such bad things could happen to someone who doesn't deserve it. Once I start to think about things like this, I realize how easily it could have been me in that situation. Instead of walking back from dancing late at night, I could be that person sleeping on the sidewalk. I am so lucky to have been born into the family that I was.
Em and I were players in this snapshot too. What responsibility did we have to this cow? Should we have chased the crow away? Untied the cow? Fed the cow better food? We didn't do anything- we kept on walking. On a more positive note, we don't ignore people in need while we are here, rather we are quite active. Whether it is at Premm Dan, Daya Dan, Shanti Dan, Shishu Bhavan, Kalighat, Brother Xavier's or Sabera we are taking the time to stop and be with those in need. After we saw the cow and the crow, Em and I continued to talk about it. Once we became aware of what is going on, we were deeply moved. Similarly, when we are done with working at all of these sites, we continue to talk about them at Blue Sky, our walks and nightly reflections. Do we move on? Do we keep talking about it? What action should we take? What do we do once we return to the US? There is no way we will ever forget what we have experienced in India but it is up to us to do something with those experiences.
We are here in Kolkata and are flooded with new images of poverty, illness and loneliness. There are tons of intense, fun, new and exciting experiences that have happened to us while we have been here. Certain things that were normal to us before, no longer are and things that were abnormal before are now normal. We have only been here 3 weeks but once you see, feel and experience Kolkata it will not go away. We cannot undo the things that we have seen and we are grown because of our experiences here. Although we might not realize that we are changed right away, our family and friends back home might notice that we have. We are so excited to return home and see you all but are sad to leave each other and our bondus here.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Proud Auntie!
Ani and Rachael decided to make a short detour and check out things at Prem Dan today. Em, Alicia, Sarah and I rushed passed the massis, ignoring the call for laundry duty and headed straight for the front room. As the SMC ladies of Prem Dan it was our mission to show Ani and Rachael the glorious women who are the constant topic of conversation.
We rushed around, messing up the normal morning flow, saying ‘Oh here’s my bondu!’ ‘Here’s the one we take to the bathroom all the time’ ‘Here’s the women who is always having the infamous skull operation.’ I wanted to show them everyone but most importantly, my special bondu Sunnita. As soon as I pointed her out, she called out and reached for me.
This moment was similar to the many I’ve had with my niece Sadie. Sadie is 3 years old and whenever I introduce her to someone new I always ask her to say hello or do something I taught her. I like to show her off. When Sadie actually performs for a new friend, my heart melts and I’m the proudest auntie in the world.
Like Sadie, I wanted to show Sunnita off. When she called out ‘Auntie! Auntie!’ and reached for me during Ani and Rachael’s walk through, my heart melted and in a new, different way I was the proudest auntie in the world.
Tomorrow is my last day with Sunnita, with my bondus at Prem Dan. They have become my current joy. Leaving them will be tremendously upsetting but the joy they inspire will forever remain in my heart.
Goodnight,
Susi
Tuesday, week 3
Today was our fourth and final day visiting Brother Xavier's fam. More games of free-for-all b-ball were played as well as volleyball, keep away, cricket, and arm wrestling. Saying good bye was challenging but knowing their future was safe and bright helped.
With two and a half days left, many are excited to return home and back to a world of luxuries that make living easy. However this raw living is something that will be missed. We've grown accustomed, learned to tolerate, enjoy, and love the people, sights, tortourous heat, and India in general. Going home will be nice but won't quite be the same.
With two and a half days left, many are excited to return home and back to a world of luxuries that make living easy. However this raw living is something that will be missed. We've grown accustomed, learned to tolerate, enjoy, and love the people, sights, tortourous heat, and India in general. Going home will be nice but won't quite be the same.
Please cry for him
Early yesterday morning, at Shishu Bhavan, the boy Caroline wrote about earlier died. I do not know his name, his birthdate, or really what was wrong with him...no one does. He was abandoned there about a month ago, he was taken in clothed and feed, but with so many other special needs children, it must have been hard to realize just how dire his situation was.
He was the first child I picked up when I first arrived at the special needs room upstairs at Shishu Bhavan about three weeks ago. It had been a hard day at Prem Dan, many of the women had needed their heads shaved due to lice, and were very upset about it. As a result I was upset and unsure as to whether I would go to Shishu Bhavan as planned. But, fate intervened, and Caroline and I headed out. I was ready to play with some toddlers and make the day better. We arrived and realized we had been sent to the special needs room. After spending 2.5 hours there we were upset, shocked, and concerned. There were language, cultural, and physical barriers and we were taken aback. When, I was there I met this nameless child. He was in so much obvious pain, he was stiffened in such an odd way, and when I picked him up he became apneic. Realizing this I quickly turned him over, but there was no way to hold him without hearing his extreme difficulty breathing. It was impossible for me to leave him in such a state on the mat on the floor, so I figured out a situation that was a little better. For, the past 2 weeks, I held him every single time I went looking for that perfect place where he could be truly comfortable.
On Saturday afternoon, I finally found it. When I was holding him, his muscles relaxed for the first time since i've seen him, he grabbed onto my fingers, and fell asleep. During this time, his breathing slowed and was not as noisy as before. Three of the Massi's were staring at me, and the sister came over to say that they had never seen him sleep before. I left happy and excited that I had finally been able to give him some relief, even if was only for a short time. Sunday, we went to Sabera Foundation, so I was not there, but I was excited to go back Monday to hold him and let him breath and sleep for awhile again.
Upon arrival Monday, I at first did not see him, but was distracted by one of the girls who so obviously wanted attention, I assumed he was just in one of the cribs as he often is when we get there. But, within a few minutes, one of the other volunteers (there are normally 5 of us there) came over to say that the "boy who couldn't breath died last night". I know from experience that he was not easy to hold, that his struggle to breath was heartbreaking so I know that he was very seldom, if ever, held, touched or loved. I know he is in a better place, away from his constant pain, I know that no one, much less a 2-3 year old baby wants to live like that. But, I can not accept that no one will ever acknowledge his death; that this will be the only testimony in life. I can not accept that there is no one to mourn the loss of an little boy's short and painful life.
A few months ago, one of SMFR's alumni's infant son died. I was asked by our captain to drive the ambulance at the head of the funeral procession, which consisted of over 15 cars. We arrived to find only standing room in the chapel at St. Mike's. People had come from hours away to mourn the loss of this baby that many had never met. This nameless boy could very well have died from a similar disease, yet, where is his funeral procession? He doesn't even have anyone to cry for him.
He was the first child I picked up when I first arrived at the special needs room upstairs at Shishu Bhavan about three weeks ago. It had been a hard day at Prem Dan, many of the women had needed their heads shaved due to lice, and were very upset about it. As a result I was upset and unsure as to whether I would go to Shishu Bhavan as planned. But, fate intervened, and Caroline and I headed out. I was ready to play with some toddlers and make the day better. We arrived and realized we had been sent to the special needs room. After spending 2.5 hours there we were upset, shocked, and concerned. There were language, cultural, and physical barriers and we were taken aback. When, I was there I met this nameless child. He was in so much obvious pain, he was stiffened in such an odd way, and when I picked him up he became apneic. Realizing this I quickly turned him over, but there was no way to hold him without hearing his extreme difficulty breathing. It was impossible for me to leave him in such a state on the mat on the floor, so I figured out a situation that was a little better. For, the past 2 weeks, I held him every single time I went looking for that perfect place where he could be truly comfortable.
On Saturday afternoon, I finally found it. When I was holding him, his muscles relaxed for the first time since i've seen him, he grabbed onto my fingers, and fell asleep. During this time, his breathing slowed and was not as noisy as before. Three of the Massi's were staring at me, and the sister came over to say that they had never seen him sleep before. I left happy and excited that I had finally been able to give him some relief, even if was only for a short time. Sunday, we went to Sabera Foundation, so I was not there, but I was excited to go back Monday to hold him and let him breath and sleep for awhile again.
Upon arrival Monday, I at first did not see him, but was distracted by one of the girls who so obviously wanted attention, I assumed he was just in one of the cribs as he often is when we get there. But, within a few minutes, one of the other volunteers (there are normally 5 of us there) came over to say that the "boy who couldn't breath died last night". I know from experience that he was not easy to hold, that his struggle to breath was heartbreaking so I know that he was very seldom, if ever, held, touched or loved. I know he is in a better place, away from his constant pain, I know that no one, much less a 2-3 year old baby wants to live like that. But, I can not accept that no one will ever acknowledge his death; that this will be the only testimony in life. I can not accept that there is no one to mourn the loss of an little boy's short and painful life.
A few months ago, one of SMFR's alumni's infant son died. I was asked by our captain to drive the ambulance at the head of the funeral procession, which consisted of over 15 cars. We arrived to find only standing room in the chapel at St. Mike's. People had come from hours away to mourn the loss of this baby that many had never met. This nameless boy could very well have died from a similar disease, yet, where is his funeral procession? He doesn't even have anyone to cry for him.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Pooja's Eyes.
Her wide syrupy brown eyes stare up at me, surrounded by impossibly long black lashes that spring up from all around her top and bottom eyelids. Her eyes are sundor, the Bengali word that means beautiful.
Her name is Pooja. And she is my bondhu. Bondhu is the Bengali word for friend. I do my service every morning in the female ward at Prem Dan, which is one of the Missionaries of Charity homes, and which is specifically for women who are sick, diseased, and dying, and/or mentally and/or physically disabled. Pooja is one of those women, and the one who I hold dearest to my heart. I am quite attached to many of the women, and especially fond of a few in particular, but all of us who work at Prem Dan have our own designated “Bondhus,” or friends, and my best Bondhu, my bff so to speak, is Pooja.
She’s probably about my age, 22. Maybe a year or two younger. She has beautiful brown skin, a round face, a buzz cut, and those beautiful brown eyes. She is completely immobile. She cannot move any of her limbs, and she can’t even sit up straight. She spends all day sitting upright in a chair, leaning slightly to her left side against the wall. Her head tilts, and rests on a large pillow. Pooja can’t speak. The only thing that she can really do on her own is chewing and swallowing her food.
Since my third day at Prem Dan I have fed Pooja her chai and bread at chai time, and her lunch at lunch time. Ever since that day, I make sure that no one else feeds my Pooja. I mush up her rice and potatoes, and feed it to her in careful spoonfuls, and watch her with pure adoration as she slowly but surely chews her food and swallows it. After she swallows, she eagerly opens her mouth up wide, like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
Pooja has stolen my heart. But she also breaks my heart. She is so young, and so clearly full of life-I see it all in her eyes when she looks at me. And boy, does she look at me; Pooja definitely knows the meaning of eye contact. When I feed her, when I talk to her, when I walk by her, Pooja stares deeply into my eyes, and holds her gaze.
Today, I was standing a few feet away from Pooja, and goofing around with one of my other favorite ladies at Prem Dan- one of my “home girls,” as we like to call them. We were laughing and smiling-she was speaking in Bengali, and I was speaking in English, but we were talking nonetheless. Then I looked up, and saw that another volunteer was sitting next to Pooja, and holding her hand. It was sweet, and warmed my heart to see my favorite girl getting attention from someone else. But I was also a little bit jealous, I will admit. We all tend to get a bit possessive of our bondhus at Prem Dan. So I looked at her, and dramatically acted out that I was jealous. “Are you flirting with another woman?” I asked. The tone and volume of my voice, and my body language made it obvious that I was being facetious, and I had a huge smile on my face, and Pooja totally got it. She got my joke, and she responded in the most beautiful way.
Her black pupils lock onto mine, hold, and didn’t let go. Pooja always blinks incessantly, but even with each blink she never loses that focus that she has on my eyes. There we were staring into each other’s eyes, and then, suddenly, a huge smile spread across her face; a smile full of crooked teeth that are definitely rotting, but in far better condition when compared to the teeth of the older women who surround her. Pooja could be the Crest model of Prem Dan-her teeth are still fairly white, and they are all there. The same can’t be said of the rest of the women; many of whom are toothless, or only have about half their teeth still intact. She smiled bigger than I have ever seen her smile before, (and the number of times that I have seen her smile previous to this time is a whopping one).
I stared back at her, not letting go of the eye contact, and smiled so hard that I thought my face would break. I swallowed hard and for a moment I didn’t breathe. Then I cracked. I took at a deep breath, and I could feel the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. All of the blood in my body rushed to my heart in that moment, and I knew I was about to cry. I just couldn’t do it. So I broke eye contact. I looked away from those big brown eyes. But I felt warm, so warm. I couldn’t believe that she smiled at me like that. There was so much joy, so much love behind that smile. And that is why I am here in Kolkata.
Call me melodramatic; call me overly sensitive; call me far too attached to this young woman whom I’ve only known for 2 weeks. Call me crazy, but I love my bondhu Pooja, and I will always remember her. She has made a lasting impact on my heart, my soul, and my mind; looking into those wide brown eyes shook me to the core, and I will never be able to pretend that I didn’t see what I saw in Pooja’s eyes.
I know what other people may see when they look into Pooja’s eyes. They see emptiness; a blank stare, a deer in the headlights, someone with a mentally disability, a person who isn’t “all there.” But I see so much more. I see life, so much life! I see memories, pain, sadness, and hardship. But I also see joy. And that is what I cherish most; Pooja’s joy.
I’ve started singing to Pooja. I sing her my favorite songs from my favorite Neil Young album, “Harvest.” I hold her hands, and even though she can’t move them, and even though she is weak, I feel the slightest pressure coming from her skinny fingers, and I know that for Pooja, that slight pressure is really a sqeeze, it’s a grip, it’s the equivalent of a healthy person holding on for dear life and never letting go. She can't say it, but I know that Pooja loves me too. And I know that I make her just as happy as she makes me. I live for the moments when I can see Pooja’s happiness-like the time that I made her laugh last week-she smiled slightly, and the tiniest high pitched sound came out of her mouth-the first sound that she ever uttered to me other than when she chokes a little on her food, and coughs. But I knew that the funny high pitched sound that she was making was a laugh; Pooja’s laugh. And it was the equivalent to a healthy person absolutely cracking up, laughing hysterically. Pooja just expresses herself differently.
Kolkata makes me feel human in every sense of the word. Connecting to Pooja, and my other bondhus, and all of the women at Prem Dan has been an incredible experience that I never anticipated. I wasn’t prepared for how much love I was going to feel for all of these women, and there is nothing that could have prepared me for it even if I had been warned. My experience here has been a whirlwind; a beautiful experience that I will never forget.
Thanks for reading. Namaskaar,
Alicia
Her name is Pooja. And she is my bondhu. Bondhu is the Bengali word for friend. I do my service every morning in the female ward at Prem Dan, which is one of the Missionaries of Charity homes, and which is specifically for women who are sick, diseased, and dying, and/or mentally and/or physically disabled. Pooja is one of those women, and the one who I hold dearest to my heart. I am quite attached to many of the women, and especially fond of a few in particular, but all of us who work at Prem Dan have our own designated “Bondhus,” or friends, and my best Bondhu, my bff so to speak, is Pooja.
She’s probably about my age, 22. Maybe a year or two younger. She has beautiful brown skin, a round face, a buzz cut, and those beautiful brown eyes. She is completely immobile. She cannot move any of her limbs, and she can’t even sit up straight. She spends all day sitting upright in a chair, leaning slightly to her left side against the wall. Her head tilts, and rests on a large pillow. Pooja can’t speak. The only thing that she can really do on her own is chewing and swallowing her food.
Since my third day at Prem Dan I have fed Pooja her chai and bread at chai time, and her lunch at lunch time. Ever since that day, I make sure that no one else feeds my Pooja. I mush up her rice and potatoes, and feed it to her in careful spoonfuls, and watch her with pure adoration as she slowly but surely chews her food and swallows it. After she swallows, she eagerly opens her mouth up wide, like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
Pooja has stolen my heart. But she also breaks my heart. She is so young, and so clearly full of life-I see it all in her eyes when she looks at me. And boy, does she look at me; Pooja definitely knows the meaning of eye contact. When I feed her, when I talk to her, when I walk by her, Pooja stares deeply into my eyes, and holds her gaze.
Today, I was standing a few feet away from Pooja, and goofing around with one of my other favorite ladies at Prem Dan- one of my “home girls,” as we like to call them. We were laughing and smiling-she was speaking in Bengali, and I was speaking in English, but we were talking nonetheless. Then I looked up, and saw that another volunteer was sitting next to Pooja, and holding her hand. It was sweet, and warmed my heart to see my favorite girl getting attention from someone else. But I was also a little bit jealous, I will admit. We all tend to get a bit possessive of our bondhus at Prem Dan. So I looked at her, and dramatically acted out that I was jealous. “Are you flirting with another woman?” I asked. The tone and volume of my voice, and my body language made it obvious that I was being facetious, and I had a huge smile on my face, and Pooja totally got it. She got my joke, and she responded in the most beautiful way.
Her black pupils lock onto mine, hold, and didn’t let go. Pooja always blinks incessantly, but even with each blink she never loses that focus that she has on my eyes. There we were staring into each other’s eyes, and then, suddenly, a huge smile spread across her face; a smile full of crooked teeth that are definitely rotting, but in far better condition when compared to the teeth of the older women who surround her. Pooja could be the Crest model of Prem Dan-her teeth are still fairly white, and they are all there. The same can’t be said of the rest of the women; many of whom are toothless, or only have about half their teeth still intact. She smiled bigger than I have ever seen her smile before, (and the number of times that I have seen her smile previous to this time is a whopping one).
I stared back at her, not letting go of the eye contact, and smiled so hard that I thought my face would break. I swallowed hard and for a moment I didn’t breathe. Then I cracked. I took at a deep breath, and I could feel the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. All of the blood in my body rushed to my heart in that moment, and I knew I was about to cry. I just couldn’t do it. So I broke eye contact. I looked away from those big brown eyes. But I felt warm, so warm. I couldn’t believe that she smiled at me like that. There was so much joy, so much love behind that smile. And that is why I am here in Kolkata.
Call me melodramatic; call me overly sensitive; call me far too attached to this young woman whom I’ve only known for 2 weeks. Call me crazy, but I love my bondhu Pooja, and I will always remember her. She has made a lasting impact on my heart, my soul, and my mind; looking into those wide brown eyes shook me to the core, and I will never be able to pretend that I didn’t see what I saw in Pooja’s eyes.
I know what other people may see when they look into Pooja’s eyes. They see emptiness; a blank stare, a deer in the headlights, someone with a mentally disability, a person who isn’t “all there.” But I see so much more. I see life, so much life! I see memories, pain, sadness, and hardship. But I also see joy. And that is what I cherish most; Pooja’s joy.
I’ve started singing to Pooja. I sing her my favorite songs from my favorite Neil Young album, “Harvest.” I hold her hands, and even though she can’t move them, and even though she is weak, I feel the slightest pressure coming from her skinny fingers, and I know that for Pooja, that slight pressure is really a sqeeze, it’s a grip, it’s the equivalent of a healthy person holding on for dear life and never letting go. She can't say it, but I know that Pooja loves me too. And I know that I make her just as happy as she makes me. I live for the moments when I can see Pooja’s happiness-like the time that I made her laugh last week-she smiled slightly, and the tiniest high pitched sound came out of her mouth-the first sound that she ever uttered to me other than when she chokes a little on her food, and coughs. But I knew that the funny high pitched sound that she was making was a laugh; Pooja’s laugh. And it was the equivalent to a healthy person absolutely cracking up, laughing hysterically. Pooja just expresses herself differently.
Kolkata makes me feel human in every sense of the word. Connecting to Pooja, and my other bondhus, and all of the women at Prem Dan has been an incredible experience that I never anticipated. I wasn’t prepared for how much love I was going to feel for all of these women, and there is nothing that could have prepared me for it even if I had been warned. My experience here has been a whirlwind; a beautiful experience that I will never forget.
Thanks for reading. Namaskaar,
Alicia
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Pay your taxes, Hold your head high.
As I think about what to write for this blog post, I feel completely and utterly scattered. As a Journalism minor, my now ex-professors would be less than pleased yet the heat has somehow clamped down some creative brain vibrations. So many wonderful things have happened since we have arrived (many of which have been blogged about) and so many other stories will undoubtedly be told once we all return home. Home, that's another topic that could be touched on as we have only five days left before we journey thousands of miles back to what we temporarily left behind. I think, though, what would be the best thing for me to do however is to take a lesson from Kolkata itself in order to help me through.
The city, the fourth largest in India with just over 5 million people, never ceases to bustle with activity yet, somehow, everything appears to run smoothly. The traffic flow contains every possible type of transportation you could imagine (and if you can't, picture auto-rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, taxis, bicycles, motorcycles, people walking, people running, cows standing). Yet, without much traffic law like lane markings and speed limit signs the movement of people and things happens effortlessly and seamlessly. I was shocked when we first arrived. It seemed dangerous to even walk in the streets when a taxi would come roaring towards you while an rickshaw driver takes up the other half of the road, yet I haven't seen one accident, not even a fender bender. These people have practice, yes, but they also trust one another to navigate the sea of movement effectively. And the city runs because of it.
While driving through Park Street the other day I saw a sign that said, "Pay your taxes, Hold your head high." Instead of a law carried out by coercion like many in the United States (for example; don't pay your taxes and potentially go to jail) city officials felt that adding a moral appeal to its citizens may be more effective. I'm sure there are plenty of people still evading those good old taxes but the idea is still fascinating. The people here are expected to do the things that keep their city running smoothly. Faith is placed entirely in their hands.
And so, that is the lesson I choose to take today in this blog entry, but also one that I want to remember once I am back at home. With some faith the pieces will fit together and what needs to happen will. I feel that our group has been molded by this as well throughout our long, hot Kolkata days. We may not always know what our daily schedules will involve but we do know that at the end of the day we will all be reflecting with one another. During these times, the funny stories will be relived again and any hardships will be softened by others' fresh perspectives. We place faith in one another to ensure that our group runs placidly and without any large collisions or follies. Like Kolkata, the seamlessness is not perfect but it is functioning and I think that is all anyone can ask.
Kayleigh
The city, the fourth largest in India with just over 5 million people, never ceases to bustle with activity yet, somehow, everything appears to run smoothly. The traffic flow contains every possible type of transportation you could imagine (and if you can't, picture auto-rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, taxis, bicycles, motorcycles, people walking, people running, cows standing). Yet, without much traffic law like lane markings and speed limit signs the movement of people and things happens effortlessly and seamlessly. I was shocked when we first arrived. It seemed dangerous to even walk in the streets when a taxi would come roaring towards you while an rickshaw driver takes up the other half of the road, yet I haven't seen one accident, not even a fender bender. These people have practice, yes, but they also trust one another to navigate the sea of movement effectively. And the city runs because of it.
While driving through Park Street the other day I saw a sign that said, "Pay your taxes, Hold your head high." Instead of a law carried out by coercion like many in the United States (for example; don't pay your taxes and potentially go to jail) city officials felt that adding a moral appeal to its citizens may be more effective. I'm sure there are plenty of people still evading those good old taxes but the idea is still fascinating. The people here are expected to do the things that keep their city running smoothly. Faith is placed entirely in their hands.
And so, that is the lesson I choose to take today in this blog entry, but also one that I want to remember once I am back at home. With some faith the pieces will fit together and what needs to happen will. I feel that our group has been molded by this as well throughout our long, hot Kolkata days. We may not always know what our daily schedules will involve but we do know that at the end of the day we will all be reflecting with one another. During these times, the funny stories will be relived again and any hardships will be softened by others' fresh perspectives. We place faith in one another to ensure that our group runs placidly and without any large collisions or follies. Like Kolkata, the seamlessness is not perfect but it is functioning and I think that is all anyone can ask.
Kayleigh
Friday, June 3, 2011
We All Just Want to Smile and Laugh
Post By Joel Smus
As anyone who knows me or in the case of the eleven other members of this wonderful group, I am one who smiles and laughs a lot. Either through my mannerisms, jokes, sayings, comments, stories or any other sort of conversational piece. Before arriving here, I was very nervous that I would not find to many ways to smile or laugh. Not knowing how many people would be in the homes, what sort of illnesses they might have, what I would see in the streets, or how I would perceive everything. Working in the homes though has been a wonderful blessing as to how in the face of great adversity and pain, anyone can still smile and laugh. The men I have encountered at Prem Dan have become friends to me. Sharing stories, exchanging words in both English and Bengali, washing dishes or hanging laundry; it has all been smiles and laughter. Today a man beckoned me over to take him into the home to sit on a bed. I led the way by him holding onto my shoulders and me walking towards the bed slowly. He motioned towards one bed and jokingly I pointed at another. In perfect English, he told me not that bed but the other and that if I wanted to joke, he would play along. I was shocked at his English. I asked him how he learned and he explained that his grandfather had been a soldier in the British army and had fought in World War I, in France and Germany. I was so shocked that I sat on the bed with him for the next half hour and through good English he told me his grandfathers story and parts of his. I learned of his life and what encompassed it. I believe that from the expression on his face, he was truly happy to be chatting, had a genuine smile. For the first time, I felt like I had become friends with someone at Prem Dan.
Yesterday we went to Titigar, the Leprosy Colony. We learned so much about leprosy and all of its history and treatments. While walking through I chatted with a few of the workers who were working on cloth production. It was nice to know that I could chat with them and it not be like I was looking at them through a window. I got to see the homes and the people and gave them that smile letting them know that I was truly appreciative to them for letting me into there home. Later in the day we visited Kali's Temple. Although it was a bit on the aggressive side to see the image of Kali, after I walked out a man asked me where I was from. I said America and he asked how I enjoyed seeing Kali. I asked why so many people are pushy and he laughed explaining it is because people want there gifts excepted, in order to appease Kali. He also said its for dramatic effect, which I laughed at...he smiled. We ended our evening by going to see a Bengali film. Although we were all excited to see the film, it had been a long day and I know personally that I would have struggled a bit to have to read sub-titles the entire time. So when Pirates of the Caribbean came on, we were all a bit confused. Not till a few minutes in did we all understand that we had entered the wrong theater and were now seeing the wrong film...which was alright by us. We smiled, laughed at our mistake and watched Jack Sparrow once again improvise his way out of trouble.
Calcutta has truly been an eye opening adventure thus far. What I have come to realize in this city of idioms and oxymoron's is that now matter how much you might want to plan for something, this city has a life of its own and will spin its own tale for you to follow. Following what I told Ann some days ago, "Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is Mystery, Today is a Gift." Let us all start every morning as if it is Christmas morning and we are opening that first gift.
As anyone who knows me or in the case of the eleven other members of this wonderful group, I am one who smiles and laughs a lot. Either through my mannerisms, jokes, sayings, comments, stories or any other sort of conversational piece. Before arriving here, I was very nervous that I would not find to many ways to smile or laugh. Not knowing how many people would be in the homes, what sort of illnesses they might have, what I would see in the streets, or how I would perceive everything. Working in the homes though has been a wonderful blessing as to how in the face of great adversity and pain, anyone can still smile and laugh. The men I have encountered at Prem Dan have become friends to me. Sharing stories, exchanging words in both English and Bengali, washing dishes or hanging laundry; it has all been smiles and laughter. Today a man beckoned me over to take him into the home to sit on a bed. I led the way by him holding onto my shoulders and me walking towards the bed slowly. He motioned towards one bed and jokingly I pointed at another. In perfect English, he told me not that bed but the other and that if I wanted to joke, he would play along. I was shocked at his English. I asked him how he learned and he explained that his grandfather had been a soldier in the British army and had fought in World War I, in France and Germany. I was so shocked that I sat on the bed with him for the next half hour and through good English he told me his grandfathers story and parts of his. I learned of his life and what encompassed it. I believe that from the expression on his face, he was truly happy to be chatting, had a genuine smile. For the first time, I felt like I had become friends with someone at Prem Dan.
Yesterday we went to Titigar, the Leprosy Colony. We learned so much about leprosy and all of its history and treatments. While walking through I chatted with a few of the workers who were working on cloth production. It was nice to know that I could chat with them and it not be like I was looking at them through a window. I got to see the homes and the people and gave them that smile letting them know that I was truly appreciative to them for letting me into there home. Later in the day we visited Kali's Temple. Although it was a bit on the aggressive side to see the image of Kali, after I walked out a man asked me where I was from. I said America and he asked how I enjoyed seeing Kali. I asked why so many people are pushy and he laughed explaining it is because people want there gifts excepted, in order to appease Kali. He also said its for dramatic effect, which I laughed at...he smiled. We ended our evening by going to see a Bengali film. Although we were all excited to see the film, it had been a long day and I know personally that I would have struggled a bit to have to read sub-titles the entire time. So when Pirates of the Caribbean came on, we were all a bit confused. Not till a few minutes in did we all understand that we had entered the wrong theater and were now seeing the wrong film...which was alright by us. We smiled, laughed at our mistake and watched Jack Sparrow once again improvise his way out of trouble.
Calcutta has truly been an eye opening adventure thus far. What I have come to realize in this city of idioms and oxymoron's is that now matter how much you might want to plan for something, this city has a life of its own and will spin its own tale for you to follow. Following what I told Ann some days ago, "Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is Mystery, Today is a Gift." Let us all start every morning as if it is Christmas morning and we are opening that first gift.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I'd bob to that.
Many of the people I've interacted with in India have a mannerism that seems unique to this area; it's a quick and subtle head bob side to side as an answer to a question. It's pretty adorable actually. The problem is, in American culture we do not engage in this mannerism, leaving me uncertain of how to interpret the bob. Was it a "yes"? It could just as easily have been a "no." Why not just answer one way or another? Why leave me with so much guess work? Keep this point in mind...
My experience has been that India is a land of contradictions. The hospitality of the people is unparalleled, leaving me feeling welcomed and appreciated. Simultaneously, the incessant haggling on the street can lead me to feel frustrated and impatient. There are starving people living on the streets, and on these very same streets restaurants serve much larger portions than a single person can eat. Each morning I see people sitting on the curbs and sidewalks fervently scrubbing their bodies clean, while they may spend their day literally handling trash and waste. Shop owners barter back in forth with you for a matter of a couple rupees then offer you chai as a simple act of kindness, demonstrating their generosity.
Along with contradictions there's competition. Competition exists everywhere in the USA, cloaked in pleasantries, and the hoarding of personal possessions behind the sturdy walls of American homes. In India, the competition and contradictions exist hand-in-hand and out in the open. For example, today our group went to Kali's Temple (Kali is a highly revered Hindu goddess). A Brahman showed us around, indicating the Do's and Don'ts as we went. I entered the temple and was forcibly pushed around, colored powder was plastered onto my forehead, and hands reached out at me asking for donations, as our group and Hindu worshipers fought our way closer to the shrine. The scene was chaotic, with yelling and pushing. Yet at the same time incense burned ceremoniously and flower petals delicately littered the area as a sign of reverence. In my mind I had trouble marrying these two very different experiences occurring at once; I walked out of the temple in a confused haze.
Wanting badly to make sense of the unexpected intensity of the experience, I asked the Brahmin, "Specifically, what do people pray to Kali for?" he answered with a smile, "Peace." Peace! I felt like I'd just been sent through a mosh-pit! I couldn't understand why people were pushing one another out of the way to be closer to Kali. Here came the competition again; in praying for peace, aren't we praying for the very people we're pushing out of the way in order to put ourselves first? Are prayers on the endless list of resources that are scarce and fleeting? In this moment, I wished for someone to help me to better understand the complexity which had left me both captivated and bewildered.
This dynamic came up again at Brother Xavier's orphanage with a little girl I've connected with, Shamoli. While Shamoli was walking around with me holding onto my hand, another little girl came and grabbed my other hand. "No," said Shamoli, "She's MY Auntie!" I was surprised by her possessiveness of me; did she worry I would not have enough attention or love for the both of them? Was my attention yet another resource to compete for? Earlier that same day, Shamoli had shown me her personal possessions consisting of a rag doll, an empty water bottle, a plain dress, and a sheet of stickers. She insisted on my having the stickers to keep. How simultaneously she experienced feelings of benevolence and threat. Such are the contradictions of the human experience; more readily identified in my interactions and observations here in India, than in any other time or place I've witnessed.
I too, have become a bit contradictory. For instance, I truly did not enjoy being pushed around by the crowd at Kali's Temple. Would I go again? Absolutely. I find the illnesses of the women at Prem Dan where I volunteer devastating and heartbreaking. Will I keep working there? Yes, whole heartedly. India has planted an endless array of questions in my mind, for which I do not yet have answers. Questions about suffering, about generosity of spirit, and the power of love and compassion, as well as emotions for which I do not have the verbal capability to convey. So what do I do now? How do I settle the unease of so much unknown and unanswered? How do I definitively answer the endless bounty of quandaries before me?
I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll return to my hotel room, look in the mirror, and start perfecting my head bob.
Peace,
Em
My experience has been that India is a land of contradictions. The hospitality of the people is unparalleled, leaving me feeling welcomed and appreciated. Simultaneously, the incessant haggling on the street can lead me to feel frustrated and impatient. There are starving people living on the streets, and on these very same streets restaurants serve much larger portions than a single person can eat. Each morning I see people sitting on the curbs and sidewalks fervently scrubbing their bodies clean, while they may spend their day literally handling trash and waste. Shop owners barter back in forth with you for a matter of a couple rupees then offer you chai as a simple act of kindness, demonstrating their generosity.
Along with contradictions there's competition. Competition exists everywhere in the USA, cloaked in pleasantries, and the hoarding of personal possessions behind the sturdy walls of American homes. In India, the competition and contradictions exist hand-in-hand and out in the open. For example, today our group went to Kali's Temple (Kali is a highly revered Hindu goddess). A Brahman showed us around, indicating the Do's and Don'ts as we went. I entered the temple and was forcibly pushed around, colored powder was plastered onto my forehead, and hands reached out at me asking for donations, as our group and Hindu worshipers fought our way closer to the shrine. The scene was chaotic, with yelling and pushing. Yet at the same time incense burned ceremoniously and flower petals delicately littered the area as a sign of reverence. In my mind I had trouble marrying these two very different experiences occurring at once; I walked out of the temple in a confused haze.
Wanting badly to make sense of the unexpected intensity of the experience, I asked the Brahmin, "Specifically, what do people pray to Kali for?" he answered with a smile, "Peace." Peace! I felt like I'd just been sent through a mosh-pit! I couldn't understand why people were pushing one another out of the way to be closer to Kali. Here came the competition again; in praying for peace, aren't we praying for the very people we're pushing out of the way in order to put ourselves first? Are prayers on the endless list of resources that are scarce and fleeting? In this moment, I wished for someone to help me to better understand the complexity which had left me both captivated and bewildered.
This dynamic came up again at Brother Xavier's orphanage with a little girl I've connected with, Shamoli. While Shamoli was walking around with me holding onto my hand, another little girl came and grabbed my other hand. "No," said Shamoli, "She's MY Auntie!" I was surprised by her possessiveness of me; did she worry I would not have enough attention or love for the both of them? Was my attention yet another resource to compete for? Earlier that same day, Shamoli had shown me her personal possessions consisting of a rag doll, an empty water bottle, a plain dress, and a sheet of stickers. She insisted on my having the stickers to keep. How simultaneously she experienced feelings of benevolence and threat. Such are the contradictions of the human experience; more readily identified in my interactions and observations here in India, than in any other time or place I've witnessed.
I too, have become a bit contradictory. For instance, I truly did not enjoy being pushed around by the crowd at Kali's Temple. Would I go again? Absolutely. I find the illnesses of the women at Prem Dan where I volunteer devastating and heartbreaking. Will I keep working there? Yes, whole heartedly. India has planted an endless array of questions in my mind, for which I do not yet have answers. Questions about suffering, about generosity of spirit, and the power of love and compassion, as well as emotions for which I do not have the verbal capability to convey. So what do I do now? How do I settle the unease of so much unknown and unanswered? How do I definitively answer the endless bounty of quandaries before me?
I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll return to my hotel room, look in the mirror, and start perfecting my head bob.
Peace,
Em
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
My girls
Every so often, after a shower or while brushing my teeth in the morning, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There’s this unfamiliarity that stares back at me. Not startling or scary, but a new face. This face looks tired but strong, pensive yet free. Something in these eyes tells me that much has transpired since leaving the comfort of the United States, something much more than any planning could have prepared us for.
This look isn’t caused by battling the ebb and flow of sickness, heavy humid air, rancid smells, harsh noises, and jarring sights. It’s something else. It’s love.
Each day each member of our group opens their heart and pours out an immeasurable amount of love. Yes, we really do love these people. It’s such a unique and profound experience to feel so much for a stranger.
Everyday at Prem Dan, which means ‘Gift of Love’, I rush through the laundry to see ‘my girls’. I mentioned this thought out loud and another volunteer responded.
Sister Elizabeth said ‘If you can call them your girls, then you’ve answered the call. You’ve done what you’re meant to do at this service.’
I was blown away by her sage words while washing soiled linens. After being here for over a week these women really have become ‘my girls’. There are few women I look out for each day. I would share their names, but the thing is I don’t even know them. We’ve had the exchange several times but it usually results in us calling each other bondu (friend).
My first bondu is a wild one. She’s on the younger side, I would say 18 years old. I knew we would be friends as soon as I saw her running around causing fights with the older women. Something drew me to this troublemaker. We’ve been hanging out everyday. I usually massage her legs, arms, neck and face with lotion. When I put lotion on her face and look into her eyes, I realize just how darn young she is. This home is clearly a better alternative than the streets but it must be tough being her age and being surrounded by all these significantly older women without any peers. I can’t blame the girl for grabbing every volunteer that walks by and crying out for attention. She’s got all this youthful energy and no way to express it. Even just in these past 10 days or so I feel like we’ve been through a lot. Her asking me to feed her when she is more than capable to feed herself, her demanding the lotion in the most endearing way, her dragging me to the nail polish box when she’s tired of me not understanding Bengali. She’s funny. She has spunk.
She’s just a girl and her future is so dim. Things become real when I see the massive, deep scarring on the back of her head or when she hits someone near her. Her frustrations come out and the pain that was forgotten for a brief moment amidst the teasing comes rushing back.
When my bondu isn't in her usual place my heart races. The immediate thought is 'did something happen to her?' But as soon as I turn the corner, that worry is relieved. She's there, she's safe. We have another day together.
I didn't realize how much I cared for this girl until Anne shared that she lost her bondu today. Imagining that loss is truly heartbreaking.
These women, men and children that we work with touch our lives in such a profound, inexplicable way. There's a deep connection that is forged.
It’s love that draws us to our bondus. It's love that exhausts us. It's love that created this new person staring back at me.
“True love is love that causes us pain, that hurts, and yet brings us joy. That is why we must pray and ask for the courage to love." –Mother Teresa
Today is a Gift: In Memory of Salma
One of my favorite times of day is when our group of 12 comes together for evening reflection. We take turns leading the time, each conversation of sharing, support, and laughter an essential part of the service we do for each other -- and a type of -boot for the service that we are doing with others throughout our packed days here.
Last night in our nightly group reflection, I asked everyone to think back to the motivations that brought each of us through this journey. This service trip, of course, is not 3 weeks longs -- but rather a journey of about 9 months to include fundraising, weekly meetings, and spiritual and physical preparations.
For me, as it is my second year that I blessed with this opportunity to be in Kolkata with the SMC program, the motivation that came to mind instantly was "to see old friends." Like Rachael, I volunteered with the women of Shantidan last year, and I became so attached to my friends there that the only way I could gracefully depart from Kolkata was to focus on the hope of being able to return this year.
One of my friends at Shantidan, Salma, passed away last night after rapid two-day illness. Inadequate for words to describe this unexpected loss and grief that I am just beginning to truly "feel,", I will share here some descriptions that I have written previously about my love for this good friend:
---------------------
June 5, 2010 (foto above; excerpt from email to US family at the end of last trip)
"today was really great/really hard -- loved my time with the women this morning, but it was the last one. I took lots of photos -- only allowed on your last day -- and made balloon hats for them which they loved! and put bindis on everyone's heads (you know, the colored dots on the foreheads?). it was so, so, so hard to say goodbye, especially to this one woman who I felt a really special connection with. really, there were like 5 or 6 who I really cared for in a different way, but this one woman, Salma, had something in her eyes that really spoke to me incredibly, and we could just sit there together in companionship, and her goodbye was so heartfelt, the way she held my hand and looked straight into my own eyes, I am tearing up right now just remembering, and it was so hard to look away but I had to because I was starting to cry in that moment of saying goodbye and I'm not sure culturally how that is read here -- I am trying to help myself by thinking that I will be able to come back next year to see them all -- because they will never go anywhere else, the women who live there. so as long as I come back (and nothing bad happens to them), I will see them again."
May 24, 2011 (excerpt from email to US family at beginning of this trip)
"On a higher note, let me share with you the good news about Salma. Salma is one of my best friends from last year, and one of the reasons that I was anxious to return. Last year, Salma and I bonded through long sits together, with very few words -- as she did not speak at all. Not once during the 3 weeks did I hear her voice, but all the same, my heart ached most when I had to say goodbye last June. Yesterday, when I arrived for the first time (again), Salma was one of the faces I was seeking, although I knew that she might not be there anymore -- or, she might not remember me. I found her within the first 15 minutes, and just like the strong embrace of any old friend, it was a most amazing reunion. Not only were we reconnecting with our eyes and hugs, though -- Salma now is speaking! She has an visible energy that was hidden last year, possibly due to her stage in trauma recovery, or due to an inappropriate dosage of medication or sedatives. Today, I did not see Salma until the end of my morning, when she called to me across the dining room, "Auntie, how are you?" In English! (That is as far as the conversation goes at this point, but it is awesome to share a few words even so!)
May 31, 2011 (excerpt from email to US family yesterday)
"Much worse than the nauseau caused by the triple dose of preventative antibiotic that the Sister kindly insisted that we take was the feeling of seeing friends I care so deeply about in discomfort and weakness. My friend Salma, one of the stars in my last email stories, was one of the patients today. After looking along the familiar hallways for her, and her typical spot at the lunch table, I found her in the dormitory style room where the Sisters and Massis (local staff) have set up a type of mini-medical unit. Salma was on the floor, transitioning between soiled clothing and bedding to fresh make-shift clothing and bedding, with the aid of the staff. Given her out-of-it state, similar to that of the other patients, I assume that she had been given some sort of sedative -- which while likely providing comfort to her, provided me with a scary glimpse of a vacant friend. The women who are being treated...mostly through IV hydration, require cloth-made ties between their limbs and the bed to keep them safe. There are no extra doctors on site, but everyone is doing what they can to work together. I feel unequipped for such urgency, such importance, and am overwhelmed by the sadness. This describes just about 60 seconds in my day today. No wonder why we all find ourselves exhausted! Our service work here demands full emotional, physical, and mental presence. And, our service work provides innumerable gifts. "
--------------------
Last night in our nightly group reflection, I asked everyone to think back to the motivations that brought each of us through this journey. This service trip, of course, is not 3 weeks longs -- but rather a journey of about 9 months to include fundraising, weekly meetings, and spiritual and physical preparations.
For me, as it is my second year that I blessed with this opportunity to be in Kolkata with the SMC program, the motivation that came to mind instantly was "to see old friends." Like Rachael, I volunteered with the women of Shantidan last year, and I became so attached to my friends there that the only way I could gracefully depart from Kolkata was to focus on the hope of being able to return this year.
One of my friends at Shantidan, Salma, passed away last night after rapid two-day illness. Inadequate for words to describe this unexpected loss and grief that I am just beginning to truly "feel,", I will share here some descriptions that I have written previously about my love for this good friend:
---------------------
June 5, 2010 (foto above; excerpt from email to US family at the end of last trip)
"today was really great/really hard -- loved my time with the women this morning, but it was the last one. I took lots of photos -- only allowed on your last day -- and made balloon hats for them which they loved! and put bindis on everyone's heads (you know, the colored dots on the foreheads?). it was so, so, so hard to say goodbye, especially to this one woman who I felt a really special connection with. really, there were like 5 or 6 who I really cared for in a different way, but this one woman, Salma, had something in her eyes that really spoke to me incredibly, and we could just sit there together in companionship, and her goodbye was so heartfelt, the way she held my hand and looked straight into my own eyes, I am tearing up right now just remembering, and it was so hard to look away but I had to because I was starting to cry in that moment of saying goodbye and I'm not sure culturally how that is read here -- I am trying to help myself by thinking that I will be able to come back next year to see them all -- because they will never go anywhere else, the women who live there. so as long as I come back (and nothing bad happens to them), I will see them again."
May 24, 2011 (excerpt from email to US family at beginning of this trip)
"On a higher note, let me share with you the good news about Salma. Salma is one of my best friends from last year, and one of the reasons that I was anxious to return. Last year, Salma and I bonded through long sits together, with very few words -- as she did not speak at all. Not once during the 3 weeks did I hear her voice, but all the same, my heart ached most when I had to say goodbye last June. Yesterday, when I arrived for the first time (again), Salma was one of the faces I was seeking, although I knew that she might not be there anymore -- or, she might not remember me. I found her within the first 15 minutes, and just like the strong embrace of any old friend, it was a most amazing reunion. Not only were we reconnecting with our eyes and hugs, though -- Salma now is speaking! She has an visible energy that was hidden last year, possibly due to her stage in trauma recovery, or due to an inappropriate dosage of medication or sedatives. Today, I did not see Salma until the end of my morning, when she called to me across the dining room, "Auntie, how are you?" In English! (That is as far as the conversation goes at this point, but it is awesome to share a few words even so!)
May 31, 2011 (excerpt from email to US family yesterday)
"Much worse than the nauseau caused by the triple dose of preventative antibiotic that the Sister kindly insisted that we take was the feeling of seeing friends I care so deeply about in discomfort and weakness. My friend Salma, one of the stars in my last email stories, was one of the patients today. After looking along the familiar hallways for her, and her typical spot at the lunch table, I found her in the dormitory style room where the Sisters and Massis (local staff) have set up a type of mini-medical unit. Salma was on the floor, transitioning between soiled clothing and bedding to fresh make-shift clothing and bedding, with the aid of the staff. Given her out-of-it state, similar to that of the other patients, I assume that she had been given some sort of sedative -- which while likely providing comfort to her, provided me with a scary glimpse of a vacant friend. The women who are being treated...mostly through IV hydration, require cloth-made ties between their limbs and the bed to keep them safe. There are no extra doctors on site, but everyone is doing what they can to work together. I feel unequipped for such urgency, such importance, and am overwhelmed by the sadness. This describes just about 60 seconds in my day today. No wonder why we all find ourselves exhausted! Our service work here demands full emotional, physical, and mental presence. And, our service work provides innumerable gifts. "
--------------------
Through this, and all of our posts, you can see why people always talk about service in Kolkata as a life-changing experience.* Just as those of us here (and folks from prior trips) can appreciate the difference between "Kolkata pretty" and "at-home pretty," "Kolkata clean" and "at-home clean," -- we also continue to experience every day the joys and sadness of what our "Kolkata friendships" mean to us. These are the people that within days -- and sometimes even minutes -- force us to open our hearts with their fierce love, compassion, and trust. My "Kolkata friends" are some of the most influential, loving, and important people I will ever know.
During our group reflection last night, Joel reminded me of a famous quote with the most important point: "Today is a gift." While today has been the hardest yet for me through both trips in Kolkata, I can still see this gift in the smiles, hugs, and loving eyes in the other women at Shantidan. I can see it through the support of my group here in Kolkata, and the support of my family and friends at home in the US, and my friends who make up our "host family" here on Sudder Street. I am blessed each day with so many gifts -- and will never forget the gift of Salma. Namaskar, bondhu!
*PS: Having been fortunate enough to be a part of service in many different communities both domestically and abroad, I can tell you, that service anywhere can be a life-changing experience! If you have the chance, take it!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
A Feeling of Hope
Hey Everyone!!
It has been so nice to hear people are following us on this crazy adventure! Though words do not give our experience justice I hope it gives you at least a taste of Kolkata and the work we have been blessed with. The Missionaries of Charity is truly an amazing organization and provides food, shelter and clothing to those who otherwise would not survive without them. It is a national organization helping millions around the world get off the streets and live a healthy life. But often our group has discussed what is the future for the mentally and physically disabled kids at Daya Dan and Shishu Bhvan or the women and men at Prem Dan, Dum Dum and Shanti Dan. Missionaries has created an amazing first step but what comes after. This question had been burdening us until we saw hope at Brother Xavier's.
Brother Xavier's is one of the other organizations we work with here in Inida and infact we are one of their primary funders. We were able to meet Brother Xavier himself, check out the facilities and play with the children. Brother Xavier right now has 300 children, both boys and girls, that he has taken from the streets and again has given them a home, clothes, food and education. But the most amazing part is Brother Xavier aids each child through out their entire life. After he has educated them, he aids them in finding a job, getting married and finding a home for their new family. Here kids are not only taken off the street but they are kept off and are taught to support themselves. It was such an overpowering feeling of hope, and just the place we needed to see to show progress and break the cycle of poverty.
Brother Xavier himself has an incredible presence. One we thought might be similar to the one Mother Teresa had. He is a man of very few words and seems to be in a state of constant peace and meditation. He is the leader and founder of the organization and I suppose with 300 children one would have to have much patience. But even around the children he is greatly respected and looked up to. The children were extremely excited to see us and play with us. Granted they were on a holiday during our first visit, but every child seemed happy and healthy. Teh facility itself was amazing they had a basketball court, a dining area, classrooms and acess to computers. I was also blown away by their English, especially the older ones. They taught us how to play card games and cricket. Our next visit, later this afternoon, there will be an India vs. U.S. basketball game, and last we heard Spain lost to the boys! It is such an uplifting place after some of the sights we see and situations we experience and it gives me hope that progress is being made!
Anyway thank you for reading, many more stories to come!!
Namaskar,
Kristy <3
It has been so nice to hear people are following us on this crazy adventure! Though words do not give our experience justice I hope it gives you at least a taste of Kolkata and the work we have been blessed with. The Missionaries of Charity is truly an amazing organization and provides food, shelter and clothing to those who otherwise would not survive without them. It is a national organization helping millions around the world get off the streets and live a healthy life. But often our group has discussed what is the future for the mentally and physically disabled kids at Daya Dan and Shishu Bhvan or the women and men at Prem Dan, Dum Dum and Shanti Dan. Missionaries has created an amazing first step but what comes after. This question had been burdening us until we saw hope at Brother Xavier's.
Brother Xavier's is one of the other organizations we work with here in Inida and infact we are one of their primary funders. We were able to meet Brother Xavier himself, check out the facilities and play with the children. Brother Xavier right now has 300 children, both boys and girls, that he has taken from the streets and again has given them a home, clothes, food and education. But the most amazing part is Brother Xavier aids each child through out their entire life. After he has educated them, he aids them in finding a job, getting married and finding a home for their new family. Here kids are not only taken off the street but they are kept off and are taught to support themselves. It was such an overpowering feeling of hope, and just the place we needed to see to show progress and break the cycle of poverty.
Brother Xavier himself has an incredible presence. One we thought might be similar to the one Mother Teresa had. He is a man of very few words and seems to be in a state of constant peace and meditation. He is the leader and founder of the organization and I suppose with 300 children one would have to have much patience. But even around the children he is greatly respected and looked up to. The children were extremely excited to see us and play with us. Granted they were on a holiday during our first visit, but every child seemed happy and healthy. Teh facility itself was amazing they had a basketball court, a dining area, classrooms and acess to computers. I was also blown away by their English, especially the older ones. They taught us how to play card games and cricket. Our next visit, later this afternoon, there will be an India vs. U.S. basketball game, and last we heard Spain lost to the boys! It is such an uplifting place after some of the sights we see and situations we experience and it gives me hope that progress is being made!
Anyway thank you for reading, many more stories to come!!
Namaskar,
Kristy <3
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Become a lake.
Hiii!!
Yesterday Sarah and I spent our first afternoon at Shishu Bhavan, a home for physically/mentally handicapped infants and toddlers. At the conclusion of the day both Sarah and I found ourselves completely drained. Emotionally and physically overwhelmed by the vivid suffering and despair of the children at ShiShu Bhavan. I figured I would share some stories from the afternoon.
The children at ShiShu Bhavan are mostly under three years old and are there for all kinds of reasons. They are typically found on the street or born from women at other MC homes like Shanti Dan or Prem Dan. We were warned when we first arrived by a long term volunteer that the site is particularly challenging because the children are visibly in serious pain, without the care they need. Unlike my experience at Daya Dan where the boys are always smiling and the happiest group of kids I have ever met, many of the children at ShiShu Bhavan have conditions where they will not live much longer. It was truly heartbreaking to see them in the state they were.
When we first got there we were asked to play with some children on a large foam mat and immediately realized how sick the children were. Sarah is an EMT, so she was able to recognize symptoms easier than I was. One of the babies we were playing with had one lung and could only breathe when positioned on its left side. If it wasn't for Sarah I wouldn't of known how to hold him! We watched him choke, cry and struggle to support his body. Another child, with Cabral Palsy that had already taken over the muscles in both his legs and one arm, with immense scaring all over his body, we found placed on his head unable to get himself up. One child had an extremely enlarged head and fever, was unable to move, and was unresponsive on the mat. We later found out many of the children don't make it longer than a week.
One of the most challenging parts of the afternoon was attempting to feed the children. They need nourishment so we had to force food down their throats. One of the children I was feeding had a seizure in his chair and I was asked to continue spooning food into his mouth as he regained consciousness. In India, infants are handled differently than in the United States, which was difficult to see. They are handled more aggressively, dragged, and hit. When you change them you don't wipe them and diapers are nothing but layers of tied cloth (the bottom layers are often left wet). They are not treated as if they are delicate, as if they are suffering. This is not only cultural but also due to the vast amount of infants they must care for. There were only five volunteers for all the children that are in need of individual attention. After we fed them, which was a struggle, they were put on the large mat as the Massis went around and gave them their medicine. They cried, choked, and screamed and the Massis grabbed their cheeks and forced medicine down their throats. All the children were given what looks like the same medicine and after a few minutes many seemed to be more comfortable if not sleeping. This really broke my heart because the infants that didn't find any peace from the medicine continued to suffer and the children that did were only given temporary relief. Some need serious medical attention and sedation is nothing but a short term fix. We changed them, played with them, and sang to the for the rest of the afternoon.
I had a really hard time emotionally working with infants and toddlers, mostly because they are so fragile and young. Their lives have literally just begun, and if they are strong enough to survive their quality of life will still be heartbreaking. Like everything else on this trip it really puts into perspective how fortunate we all are!
I wanted to end with a passage from "The Book of Awakening" by Mark Nepo. We used this in reflection a few days back and I thought you all might enjoy it to!
How Does It Taste?
The more spacious and larger our fundamental nature, the more bearable the pains in living.
-Wayne Muller
An aging Hindu master grew tired of his apprentice
complaining, and so, one morning, sent him for some salt. When the apprentice
returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt
in a glass of water and then to drink it.
complaining, and so, one morning, sent him for some salt. When the apprentice
returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt
in a glass of water and then to drink it.
"How does it taste?" the master asked. "Bitter," spit the apprentice.
The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake, and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, "Now drink from the lake."
As the water dripped down the young man's chin the master
asked, "How does it taste?" "Fresh," remarked the apprentice. "Do you taste the
salt?" asked the master. "No," said the young man.
asked, "How does it taste?" "Fresh," remarked the apprentice. "Do you taste the
salt?" asked the master. "No," said the young man.
At this, the master sat beside this serious young man who so
reminded him of himself and took his hands, offering, "The pain of life is pure
salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the
same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the
pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do it to enlarge your
sense of things... Stop being a glass. Become a lake."
reminded him of himself and took his hands, offering, "The pain of life is pure
salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the
same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the
pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do it to enlarge your
sense of things... Stop being a glass. Become a lake."
Love to you all, Caroline!
Friday, May 27, 2011
A Week to Remember
I'm gonna take the reigns as the first male blogger. Hope I don't let Joel, Dan and myself down.
These first six days have been absolutely breathtaking. It is truly difficult to put together this blog post with so many emotions and thoughts rushing through your head that cannot be fully expressed in words. Kolkata for me has been the epitome of sensory overload. Leaving the airport there was one smell, getting to Sudder Street another smell, walking to Mother House another, and the pattern continues with some smells being much better than others. Ultimately though, I know it is these memories of smells and scents that will always replay in the back of my mind after leaving Kolkata. In these six days I have explored the surrounding area, bartered with the locals, drank more chai than I could ever imagine, and have grown to learn a great deal about the city in only a short amount of time. What I have learned most is that Kolkata is a city that is overwhelming shrouded in a negative stereotype due to its high poverty. When one in the United States first thinks of Kolkata, images of Mother Teresa and the hungry and homeless are immediate thoughts. However, I have come to see in this last week the joys of this city, ones which I wish could be better reflected to the world. If you look beyond the poverty, or the harsh smells, or trash littering the streets, Kolkata is beautiful. Everything from the structures of buildings to the market designs fascinates me. The locals are so friendly, and are the first to approach you to carry on a conversation. At first, I felt these approaches came with monetary desires, yet I have now had countless individuals reach out to me simply to talk. Talk about my family, their families, my hobbies, their interests, and even giving me my fair share of Bengali lessons. This city is absolutely amazing and has so much to offer and I am privileged to have the opportunity to experience the beauty of Kolkata.
My service thus far has consisted of working the mornings at Daya Dan, and the afternoons at Kalighat. Daya Dan has been one of my first experiences working with children in a one on one setting. As it is a school for children with mental handicaps, I was intimidated at first, until I saw the smiles on these children's faces. I work with a 15 year old boy named Justice who provides me with endless laughs. He is an unbelievable singer and dancer and is so eager to learn. He won't stop until he gets a problem or assignment correct and with a little motivation, he can do anything. What sticks out for me most about not just Justice, but the children of Daya Dan in general, is they are so happy. They may become frustrated at times, but their smile is never ending. The are the most genuine children I have ever encountered and they will never pass judgment against you. For this reason, they do not deserve to be judged either. The boys have shown me their intellect, skills, hobbies, interests, and have welcomed me into their home with open arms and I will never be able to fully express my gratitude. It sounds cliche, but although I am their teacher, they are teaching me an awful lot more than I could ever teach them.
Kalighat brings an entirely different experience to the table. I have never in my life been so close to death, and it really puts things into perspective. I spent the majority of my afternoon today feeding an elderly man who is unable to move from his bed. I would run my hand over his forehead to offer any means of comfort as I could and it makes you feel so helpless. I stand before this man a healthy young individual and I cannot imagine the feelings this man is having. it is truly humbling to see an individual in a time of such need, and a time where they may not have much time left. Be thankful for what you have, for tomorrow is never a guarantee. The people of Kalighat know this, and many extend a helping hand to the others. It is beautiful to see the sense of camaraderie that many of these have amongst one another.
I am sure these next two weeks will fly by, but I look forward to continuing to embrace the experience. God Bless.
These first six days have been absolutely breathtaking. It is truly difficult to put together this blog post with so many emotions and thoughts rushing through your head that cannot be fully expressed in words. Kolkata for me has been the epitome of sensory overload. Leaving the airport there was one smell, getting to Sudder Street another smell, walking to Mother House another, and the pattern continues with some smells being much better than others. Ultimately though, I know it is these memories of smells and scents that will always replay in the back of my mind after leaving Kolkata. In these six days I have explored the surrounding area, bartered with the locals, drank more chai than I could ever imagine, and have grown to learn a great deal about the city in only a short amount of time. What I have learned most is that Kolkata is a city that is overwhelming shrouded in a negative stereotype due to its high poverty. When one in the United States first thinks of Kolkata, images of Mother Teresa and the hungry and homeless are immediate thoughts. However, I have come to see in this last week the joys of this city, ones which I wish could be better reflected to the world. If you look beyond the poverty, or the harsh smells, or trash littering the streets, Kolkata is beautiful. Everything from the structures of buildings to the market designs fascinates me. The locals are so friendly, and are the first to approach you to carry on a conversation. At first, I felt these approaches came with monetary desires, yet I have now had countless individuals reach out to me simply to talk. Talk about my family, their families, my hobbies, their interests, and even giving me my fair share of Bengali lessons. This city is absolutely amazing and has so much to offer and I am privileged to have the opportunity to experience the beauty of Kolkata.
My service thus far has consisted of working the mornings at Daya Dan, and the afternoons at Kalighat. Daya Dan has been one of my first experiences working with children in a one on one setting. As it is a school for children with mental handicaps, I was intimidated at first, until I saw the smiles on these children's faces. I work with a 15 year old boy named Justice who provides me with endless laughs. He is an unbelievable singer and dancer and is so eager to learn. He won't stop until he gets a problem or assignment correct and with a little motivation, he can do anything. What sticks out for me most about not just Justice, but the children of Daya Dan in general, is they are so happy. They may become frustrated at times, but their smile is never ending. The are the most genuine children I have ever encountered and they will never pass judgment against you. For this reason, they do not deserve to be judged either. The boys have shown me their intellect, skills, hobbies, interests, and have welcomed me into their home with open arms and I will never be able to fully express my gratitude. It sounds cliche, but although I am their teacher, they are teaching me an awful lot more than I could ever teach them.
Kalighat brings an entirely different experience to the table. I have never in my life been so close to death, and it really puts things into perspective. I spent the majority of my afternoon today feeding an elderly man who is unable to move from his bed. I would run my hand over his forehead to offer any means of comfort as I could and it makes you feel so helpless. I stand before this man a healthy young individual and I cannot imagine the feelings this man is having. it is truly humbling to see an individual in a time of such need, and a time where they may not have much time left. Be thankful for what you have, for tomorrow is never a guarantee. The people of Kalighat know this, and many extend a helping hand to the others. It is beautiful to see the sense of camaraderie that many of these have amongst one another.
I am sure these next two weeks will fly by, but I look forward to continuing to embrace the experience. God Bless.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Synonym for Weird and Sounds like Pelican.
Hi!!
So first of all in case you haven't figured it out already India is HOT! Like extremely hot.
Anyway, now that I got that out of my system, I have to share some of the amazing things that we have discovered in this beautiful country. I think the only way to even possibly start to explain the vast difference between our little bubble in Colchester, VT and the streets of Kolkata is to talk about the head surgeries I have seen three days in a row!
Picture this:
Sue, Em, Alicia, me (sarah) all hanging out with some India women, a few Sisters, and a couple other volunteers from all over the world participating in a long line of laundry at Pram Dan. When we just happen to glance to our left: right inside the doorway, in the 100 degree weather, flys buzzing everywhere, and what do we see.....the sisters just casually stichingone of the woman's head back together. Now, if this was back in VT and I went to a rescue call with this I would be seriously worried about infection, bleeding control, etc. NOPE, in Kolkata this is just normal. We walked all around her carrying the laundry upstairs, she just looked at us and the sisters didn't even pause. About 20 minutes later she is just sitting in a plastic chair eating a banana. These people are amazing! Anyway, this surgery (to completly remove a portion of her skin (like a basketball size portion to revel the white skull below), and then daily to pick out the maggots that are just prospering in there is scheduled daily for laundry time.
Regardless, our time here is amazing! I can't speak for anyone else, but I am in love with the women are Prem Dan. They are just the sweetest ladies, and while what we do is not always pleasant( ie. Take the women to the bathroom which consists of a room where they do their business on the floor and then we sweep it to the hole by the wall, or have to feed them since they can't themselves) it is more rewarding than I could ever express. I can not wait to go back!
The streets of Kolkata are full of emotions. It is hard to walk anywhere without seeing something new, and often times devestating. But, then you see the good in people. The smiling, the kindness, and the giving that many people offer up as you are walking past makes it worth it. In the morning, at 7am, when we college students should be sleeping, we are instead sitting at the Mother House in Kolkata, India. We are drinking Chai, chatting with volunteers from all over the world, and excitedly waiting the prayer that will start our day at our houses. The compassion, love, and strength that people have shown us these past few days is amazing! Right now it is all about living in the moment, being where you feel you are suppose to be, and seeing what happens next!
Tomorrow....Brother Xavier's to meet everyone and Kayleigh's birthday!!
So first of all in case you haven't figured it out already India is HOT! Like extremely hot.
Anyway, now that I got that out of my system, I have to share some of the amazing things that we have discovered in this beautiful country. I think the only way to even possibly start to explain the vast difference between our little bubble in Colchester, VT and the streets of Kolkata is to talk about the head surgeries I have seen three days in a row!
Picture this:
Sue, Em, Alicia, me (sarah) all hanging out with some India women, a few Sisters, and a couple other volunteers from all over the world participating in a long line of laundry at Pram Dan. When we just happen to glance to our left: right inside the doorway, in the 100 degree weather, flys buzzing everywhere, and what do we see.....the sisters just casually stichingone of the woman's head back together. Now, if this was back in VT and I went to a rescue call with this I would be seriously worried about infection, bleeding control, etc. NOPE, in Kolkata this is just normal. We walked all around her carrying the laundry upstairs, she just looked at us and the sisters didn't even pause. About 20 minutes later she is just sitting in a plastic chair eating a banana. These people are amazing! Anyway, this surgery (to completly remove a portion of her skin (like a basketball size portion to revel the white skull below), and then daily to pick out the maggots that are just prospering in there is scheduled daily for laundry time.
Regardless, our time here is amazing! I can't speak for anyone else, but I am in love with the women are Prem Dan. They are just the sweetest ladies, and while what we do is not always pleasant( ie. Take the women to the bathroom which consists of a room where they do their business on the floor and then we sweep it to the hole by the wall, or have to feed them since they can't themselves) it is more rewarding than I could ever express. I can not wait to go back!
The streets of Kolkata are full of emotions. It is hard to walk anywhere without seeing something new, and often times devestating. But, then you see the good in people. The smiling, the kindness, and the giving that many people offer up as you are walking past makes it worth it. In the morning, at 7am, when we college students should be sleeping, we are instead sitting at the Mother House in Kolkata, India. We are drinking Chai, chatting with volunteers from all over the world, and excitedly waiting the prayer that will start our day at our houses. The compassion, love, and strength that people have shown us these past few days is amazing! Right now it is all about living in the moment, being where you feel you are suppose to be, and seeing what happens next!
Tomorrow....Brother Xavier's to meet everyone and Kayleigh's birthday!!
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The same but different
Hey bondus (friends)!
Now it’s the third day since we have been here and everyone is slipping right into the crazy flow of the city. It is such an interesting thing to be back in Kolkata a second time and to see what is the same but also what is different. The shop keepers, people on the street (including the henna lady), Blue Sky jokes, Astoria Hotel, traffic, noise, smells and even the family outside of Shanti Dan are still the same. I was worried that it was going to be frustrating not to see progress from last year, but I was surprised at the many changes that have happened. First of all, as of last week
Being back at Shanti Dan has been wonderful, once Anne and I were able to get there. Shanti Dan is a home for women who are mentally ill, were abused or have experienced some sort of trauma that Anne and I volunteered at last year. Apparently the bus routes have changed and we were greeted with funny looks or laughs when we asked the bus drivers to take us to Topsia. The bus ride is usually 20 minutes and we had no idea how to hoof it from the Mother Huose to Shanti Dan so this morning we walked with the group from Prem Dan to their home and were easily able to figure out how to walk the rest of the way.
Monday, May 23, 2011
SENSORY OVERLOAD!
Namasgar! (Bengali Greeting)
Alicia here, writing my first post of the trip!
Here is the mission statement that we all came up with:
"Our mission is to be present, humble, and active in all aspects of our service, to remain consciously aware as we embrace everything, and to recognize the community support that we have received from our loved ones by bringing what we’ve learned back to the
We will work to:
*bridge cultural division through service and compassion, while maintaining a respectful portrayal of North Americans.
*better understand our role in alleviating or easing the harshness of others realities
*learn about ourselves and the cultures of others by opening ourselves up to the unknown
*practice compassionate service in using our strengths to strengthen others
*share our experiences and learn from the experiences of others.”
Day two in India-SENSORY OVERLOAD.:
There is just so much going on: tastes, smells (good and bad..) sights, sounds….there is ALWAYS something going on in every part of every place at every second. People live their lives on the street here: they eat, sleep, and bathe. Picture this: a woman washing her laundry as a taxi flies by, nearly hitting a rickshaw driver. And then come a pack of about 40 goats, filling the road. On the sidewalk sits a cow, lazily chewing on grass, and across the street, a mother bathes her child; next to them hang raw chunks of meat. Next to the meat is a mini shrine, adorned with beautiful bright orange flowerings and offerings of rupees (Indian currency). There is NEVER a dull moment. I, like everyone else in the group, am feeling overwhelmed, but definitely in a good way.
Today was our first day of service-we started out the morning at the Mother House where we had chai and bananas, and mingled with the other volunteers for a bit. I can’t get enough of the chai! I’m already addicted. I think I’ve had about 7 cups today! We split up into a few groups after that, and headed to the separate homes, which are all branches of Mother Theresa’s home. The Mother House is sort of like a main base. I went to Prem Don today, and worked with women who are either/or mentally disabled, physically disabled, and diseased. I was struck by the incredible sense of humor that many of the women possess, especially considering the condition that they are in. The morning was filled with smiles and laughter, and lots of nail painting. Most of the women seem to prefer red, and many demanded that their toes be painted as well! It was extremely rewarding, but definitely challenging. Helping the women go to the bathroom was quite a task, but one that we all got used to after a while.
After a delicious lunch at the Blue Sky café where we eat every day, Sue and I spent the afternoon in the street getting to know the locals, and we were soon joined by the rest of the group. Our new friend, Aasa, offered to give us Henna tattoos, and we were quite excited about that! Sitting on the sidewalk as Aasa painted my palm with beautiful flowery designs, a man selling wooden flutes played a melody on one of his instruments, and Rashni, a sassy 14 year old, chatted us up about her own Henna skills. We were surrounded by Indian culture and loving every minute of it. I am already in love with
We will be blogging at least once a day for the next three weeks, so you’ll all always be up to date!
Namasgar,
Alicia and the rest of the group.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The journey begins!
Namaskaar All!
So happy to have you all following our journey. First things first, We have arrived safe and sound in Kolkata! We are very excited to be here and to start exploring. The day will be spent familiarizing ourselves with some parts of the city, exchanging dollars for rupees, lunch and of course some rest. There will be more details later, time at the internet cafe goes quick!
Hugs,
Sue
So happy to have you all following our journey. First things first, We have arrived safe and sound in Kolkata! We are very excited to be here and to start exploring. The day will be spent familiarizing ourselves with some parts of the city, exchanging dollars for rupees, lunch and of course some rest. There will be more details later, time at the internet cafe goes quick!
Hugs,
Sue
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