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 :-)

Sofia is late to class!

My day at service was wonderful as usual. I spent the whole morning with the semi-handicapped kids (the ones who can run around and eat and speak a little) instead of with the severely handicapped kids, as a special treat to myself. It was so much fun! I've started developing good relationships with the Massis, so I can just sit and chat with them, and they teach me some pertinent words in Bangla (for example, "cheeba" means "chew"- which is what you tell a kid after you shove food in his mouth). Time spent there is so light-hearted and loving, and I'm laughing most of the time- especially today when the toddlers were doing urban Indian dance, I can't wait to demonstrate! Just picture children (who already wobble in an uncoordinated way when they walk) bounding from leg to leg, with their arms in the air, index fingers pointed up, shrugging their shoulders, precious!

I've had an epiphany for how I am going to earn money this summer- be a nanny! (preferably to a filthy rich Greenwich family...)

Last night Esty and I played nurse to a badly injured puppy. He had a gash on his right hip that was so deep you could see the layers of fat, muscle and even bone, but he is still in good spirits- his tail wags when you pet him, and he still drinks from Mama's udders. While Esty distracted him by washing his face and body, I cleaned his wound and applied some antibiotic ointment to a piece of gauze, and we taped him up. Its funny how stray animals become part of the family.

Not everything is perfect in Kolkata though...
I've had trouble sleeping for the past few nights , I guess Tom's coming anniversary is affecting me more than I thought it would. I feel like I am going through a milder form of the initial grief and anger that I went through when he first died- I'm even having the terrible visions I got last year, before I fall asleep or if I have a quiet moment to myself. I feel like I really need to be around other people who are going through the same thing, it is really hard to feel normal and process my thoughts when no one around me knows what is going on. And even if I tell them, they won't feel the same loss and sadness, so they can't relate, and I don't want just a pat on the back and someone to say "there, there."

What else can you do? I just have to feel happy and lucky to have so much love in my life.

Wild Life

Today is wonderful! There is something magical in the air, or maybe it is the sunshine or maybe it is just me, but I feel like everyone I'm interacting with has a smile on. The kids today were amazing and affectionate as usual. I taught my beloved Robi (a deliciously sweet blind boy with the most squeezeable belly I have ever seen) how to blow kisses, and spent some quality time potty training a group of toddlers. You have to picture how precious these kids look sitting all in a neat little row, naked from the waste down, sucking their thumbs and playing with one another. I have found that the best way to keep them well-behaved while on the toilet is to sing in front of them and periodically tickle them, I even taught them to do the "I'm a little teapot" dance while going to the bathroom. The joy these kids give me, and the angst I feel when saying goodbye to them, strengthens my urge to be a stay-at-home mom (at least for the first few years) when I have my own kids.

Preserved WildLife
Yesterday we spent at the Botanical Gardens, which were not quite what we expected. Instead of manicured flower beds and green houses, we found the place to be more of a lush green park, perfect for a morning stroll. I couldn't tell you how big the park was, but there were enough paths to spend a lifetime getting lost in them without ever seeing it in its entirety. My favorite part of the day (aside from trying tirelessly to take at least one picture that perfectly captured the mood of the place) were the small ponds and streams scattered about the park. The smell of the water, and the reflections of the trees in the ripples, and the sun on my face, and everything else, made me wish I could have been with Bill on some sort of boating adventure in the wilderness. To quench my thirst the Indian way, I bought a coconut for 10 rupees and drank its sweet water and ate its soft white flesh- the fun of watching the coconut-walla chop the fruit with his machete rivalled the taste itself :-) I almost forgot to mention the well-known attraction of the park, an ancient and enormous Banyan tree. Though it looks like a forest full of seperate trees, all of the growth actually originates from one central trunk that is continuously extending vines that grow into huge vertical branches. This tree plays a big part in Hindu the symbolism for the unity of all life.

Local WildLife
When dreaming of India, one might picture wild animals like monkeys roaming the streets, or at least a few sacred cows wandering here and there...this is not so. While we see the occasional (and extrememly unhappy) monkey wearing a jacket leashed to a man with a stick, or a lethargic snake sleeping inside of a charmer's basket, the animals we see most frequently are dogs. Stray dogs. Hunderded of them. They live in their own world on every street corner, and don't care much about humans unless they get fed. Just like the local humans, they sprawl anywhere they please- on the sidewalks, on top of produce stands, preferably anywhere with shade. We have found ourselves a family of dogs who now love us dearly (and not just because we feed them leftover paneer from dinner!). The two adults we have named Mom and Dad, in actuality they are sister and brother, but the two are an inseperable, lovestruck pair. They take care of a dwindling hoard of puppies, whose actual mother (we call her Mama) is rarely around, except to breast feed them. Two other canine characters are Uncle Larry (he bears a resemblance to Mom, though he seems to fill the role of the irritable, alcoholic, war veteran of the family), and Stubs. Stubs has no tail, and is actually "owned" by the chubby boy across the street, who calls him Duggy.

Unexpected WildLife
As per our usual, we spent Sunday afternoon playing frisbee at the Victoria Memorial. Jeremiah, the volunteer from Seatle who has live in Kolkata fora lmost a year and who served as our orientation guide for the MT house, and who also is responsible for organizing frisbee and various other traditions, has since left us to travel in the south- and I was happy to find that we could run our own sucessful afternoon of frisbee without him! For some reason, a uniformed gaurd decided that he would inforce the written warning of the memorial which reads "No physical exercise of any kind permitted on grounds," and kicked us out- disapointing not only us frisbee-playing foreigners, but also our huge crowd of Indian fans. Instead of quitting, we headed across the street to the Maidan park, and continued our play there. The location was drastically different than the quiet, lush green lawns of the Victoria Memorial. The ground was dry and sandy with rough, straw-like grass poking out of the ground and irritating my bare feet. The Maidan is a bustling hotspot on a Sunday afternoon, and our time was spent avoiding the random PONIES that periodically galloped through our field (and the resulting horse poop they left behind), and avoiding the nearly invisibly kite strings of the 30 or so men whose only passtime seems to be touching the sky. The afternoon was completed by the vendors who began selling consession to the crowd of onlookers we had acquired, as well as by the setting sun and the sitar music permeating the background from out of nowhere.

Catching up

I'm sitting in the internet cafe on the eve of the Muslim holiday Maharam (where men march through the streets beating themselves on their backs with chains to the tune of pounding drums and waving flags, but more on that later...) realizing that I have not updated my journal in ages. This realization is further emphasized by how different my perceptions of this city have become. There is no way that I can do justice to all that I have done and thought in the past several weeks by furiously typing a single entry, so I will work on reminiscing over time, both to fill you in and to help myself reflect. Here goes...

Shishu Bhavan
I cannot begin to describe how glad I am to be working at Shishu Bhavan. I had an idea before leaving the States that I would be sharing the lvoe that I am bursting full of with these children, but I couldn't have dreamed of how truly amazing it would be. I've been here for nearly 2 months now, and though the time has flown, I have absorbed so much. Since the holiday season is over and most of the semi-long term travelers have returned to their homes, volunteers come and go from the Mother Theresa homes on a daily basis. This influx is wonderful, especially because they volunteers are enthusiastic and have a lot of love to share with the children, but since they are not well-versed in the routines of the home, it is as if they are starting from scratch each day. That is where I have come in handy. I have somehow transformed into a senior volunteer, just the type that I admired when I was new in Kolkata. My role has transformed from simply learning the ropes to passing my acquired wisdom on. You Goucher students will understand what I mean when I say that I feel like I have formed my own Orientation Committee. I'm passing on the kindness extended to me previously by more acclimated volunteers by helping the new kids (and adults!) get used to the city. I've been helpful socially, fillingpeople in on sites to see and sites to avoid, given tips on bargaining and eating, and even extended invitations (and made great new friends!) to regular frisbee games and dining expeditions.

More importantly, I am noticing my contributions to the hanicapped ward increasing in value. Initially it was easy to find fault and frustration with the mission and implimentation of Mother Theresa's dream. The facilities are somewhat bare, the sisters have no medical training, and the children receive less medical and intellectual attention than I beleive they need, but until you have learned about an institution from the inside, there is no way you can understand how it functions. Honestly, and all hokiness aside, this place works becasue of love. The sisters are the most beautifully patient women I have ever met, and the Massis (the Indian women hired to provide direct care to the children) are some of the most skilled people I have seen as far as child-rearing is concerned.

Interjection of Commentary Regarding "Minimalist Parenting"
Something that consistently amazes me on the streets of Kolkata is the sheer joy I find on the faces of the homeless children. Though they have no roofs over their heads, nor a constant supply of food, and certainly not enough medical attention nor educational stimulation, they are continuing to progress through childhood (just like children do normally in the United States). They go through all of the same stages of growth, they lose their teeth, they get chicken pox, they get in trouble, they don't like eating their vegetables...but they develop so much more quickly! I have seen children here running around with beautiful fine motor skills whose American counterparts are still being coddled in their parents arms, barely able to crawl. The kids here develop all sorts of amazing skills, aside from their ability to invent different forms of play and their love for attention from strangers, I am most amazed at how quickly thse children are able to take care of themselves and eachother. And they do take care of eachother!

More on all of that later, right now it is time to head home for dinner. Miraculously 6 boxes of Annie's Mac and Cheese appeared on our kitchen table last night, as if Manna from Heaven, so perhaps Choto-Da will be fixing us something American tonight!