I might not know, but I'm learning

Rajesh
Rajesh died yesterday. He went to the hospital the day before, for the fourth time in as many months. I just realized that I haven't previously written about him, and I Wonder why. He was a beautiful boy, very sweet, and clever- not nearly-unconscious like most of the others. He had a bad case of TB, and what I assumed to be either Polio or Cerebral palsy because his limbs were so twisted, emaciated and stiff. He had a younger brother, Rakesh, whose body is the same, though his lungs were better and his mind worse.

Two Italian women, both of whom are leaving on Saturday, have been here with me through the long haul. One woman, blonde with short straight hair, has worked very well with Sanjoy- pushing him physically and socially. The other, shorter with short curly brown hair, loved Rajesh and spent lots of time sitting with him in her lap, reading stories and feeding him. Lately, he had been getting worse and worse; eating less, with a fever that increased impossibly each day. His breathing was always labored and noisy, but the last few days his respiration was unnaturally fast- you could see each shallow breath struggle to escape through his twitching nostrils.

I sat on the roof at breaktime, listening to two teenage volunteers (who have been here only a week) talk about how at home "they just don't know what its like here, man." I didn't want to hear them say that it is impossible to teach the kids here because they don't speak English, I wanted to ask her if she noticed that a little boy died, and now his little brother is all alone and he isn't even aware of his loss. I feel a big separation now between all of those new, smiling volunteers who come and go and wax philosophical and speak in big, important voices, and people like myself and the two Italian women, who have progressed through the awe of this city with its poverty, bustling masses, sick children and prosthelitizing missionaries, and have gone through several stages of questioning and awareness. We've stopped complaining about the way things are, or feeling self-righteous about "giving our time."

Instead of just questioning how to change things, we simply come every day and act. We follow our instincts, get to know the children as individual people, and know that all of the wonderful and productive things we are doing to challenge the kids and the system are nothing but a drop in the bucket- but that's ok, because every moment with these kids, all of the time both frustrating and miraculous, is fulfilling and joy-inspiring.

I'm learning that happiness is not the same as contentment. Happiness has more to do with recognizing that every person, action, object, moment in life can fill you up and make you whole without making you full- if anything, it makes you more hungry for new experiences and challenges. Similar to the way that getting used to a place and a routine of activities decreases the difficulty of getting the tasks accomplished through familiarity, but doesn't decrease the overall work load because each time you have mastered an objective, you realize there is more to do.

Dirty nappies and roly-poly
My mom used to say, in reference to my relationship with Bill, that I wouldn't know what love was until I had to change a screaming child's shitty diaper- well I'm learning. I got a fat lip wrestling with Dona, the blind and autistic girl, to try and take off her shit-smeared dress after changing her dirty nappie. Speaking of nappies, the Massi who folds and delivers them after they are washed gave me a kiss today, because she is small and old and no one ever pays attention to her. Again on the nappie front, I acheived a somewhat major accomplishment today- I can now tie the diapers on the way the Massis do it!
Here is the trick: A nappie consists of two square-shaped pieces of cloth, one is folded in half to form a triangle (and has a small loop of fabric sewn onto the tip, which will come into play soon), and the other is folded repeatedly into a rectangle (this piece will bear the brunt of whatever the child unleashes upon it). The triangular cloth is laid down, with the rectangular piece on top of it, going from the apex to the hypotenouse, then the child's butt is laid upon both of these, with the tip of the triangle poking between his or her legs legs. The children are pretty used to this routine, and the less handicapped ones will remain relatively still while you go about the business. Now comes the fun, skillful and fast-paced part. Pull the tip of the triangle up through their legs to their waist, pull one of the other traingle points (now become straps) through the loop sewn onto the apex, cross the two straps tightly, flip the child onto their stomach, and tie the straps in a neat not on their back. Done. This will not fall off or move.

My morning was spent quelling temper tantrums, of those kids who were not allowed to join the rest at the playground, with puzzles and crayons. One boy(Jotish) understood enough to put similar-looking pieces together, and would clap if two pieces fit, but he was not concerned with the overall picture it produced. Shilpa, a less developed girl, was more interested in putting the pieces dilligently (and repeatedly) into the box and dumping them out again. It is amazing to watch the development of a child's motor skills in real life rather than out of a text book- one heavy boy, about 6 or 7, who is autistic and kept in a playpen for most of the day (and depending upon which Massi gets him ready for lunch, has his ankles tied together when in his seat), can only walk if I bear most of his weight for him, and keep him upright, but he is incredibly proficcient at rolling around on the floor, which I gave him plenty of opportunity to do today :-)