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.
Friday, June 3, 2011
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
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