Stories to Share

Hello Friends and Family,

As most of you may know, we are all safely back in the states, and boy is it an adjustment coming back! I just wanted to share some final thoughts on our journey in Kolkata and my own personal journey.

It's easy to say that the trip was incredible, I learned a lot, and I loved the experience, but what does that really tell you? Not a whole lot. On our last night of reflection, we brainstormed different ways to explain our experiences in Kolkata.  What Jerry and Allison suggested was sharing a couple of stories that were pivotal or really stuck with us. So many stories rushed to my mind but a couple really stand out.

One day at Daya Dan, one of the sisters came up to me and asked me if I would hold Mongol, a little boy with cerebral palsy, epilepsy, and mental delay, because he was sick and needed some extra love and affection.  Gladly, I sat down with him and cradled him in my arms.  His arms and legs shook and he looked so uncomfortable.  I stroked his head, rubbed his arms and legs, and tried talking to him or softly singing. He was kind of looking up at me, then all of a sudden his legs and arms stopped shaking, his eyes shut, and he fell asleep.  Tears were jerked from my eyes as I looked at this beautiful boy, peacefully asleep.  I may not have made his illness go away, but I gave him some extra time, love, and a little bit of a peaceful rest. I am grateful and privileged to have given that time to this beautiful boy.

On the last day at Daya Dan, the sisters, Massis, and all of the physically capable girls sang a song for us. It went like this:

 

We thank you, thank you, Auntie,

We thank you, thank you, Uncle,

We thank you, thank you, thank you from our hearts! (repeat)

 

We love you, love you, Auntie,

We love you, love you, Uncle,

We love you, love you, love you from our hearts! (repeat)

 

We miss you, miss you, Auntie,

We miss you, miss you Uncle,

We miss you, miss you, miss you from our hearts! (repeat)

 

Needless to say, I definitely cried. It was beautiful and absolutely perfect. At the end of the song, a girl Argina walked up to me, and for the first time in the three weeks that I had been there, she placed her hands in mine, and looked into my eyes.  It was shocking because she is "stuck in her own world" and doesn't really reach out, but there she was, looking at me, into my eyes, holding my hands.  I was blown away and my heart was warmer than it had ever been.

 

This trip really did change me. It's tough to explain, but I'm feeling more alive and happier than I've ever been.  My eyes and my mind are open in ways they haven't been before. The people I've met, things I've seen, and the tragedies and joys I witnessed have taught me so much about life and love and I intend on carrying that through with me for the rest of my life.

 

So, although the trip ended, it's not an end, but rather a new beginning. This trip has opened up doors for me that I didn't even know were there. My time in Kolkata is not over, I'll be back.

 

Although I left Kolkata, Kolkata never left me. It's in my heart and it will stay there forever.

 

Namaste,

Bri Saunders

 

As our time comes to a close here in Kolkata we have all began to reflect on our journies while at the same time anxiously anticipating our return home.  I know that we are all sad to leave this place, but excited to return home to family, friends, and loved ones.  At times like these, moments of transition from one experince to another, I often think about how it could have been otherwise.  We are extremely fortunate to have been able to come on this trip and thankful for all of the support that we have received from everyone back home.  This trip has been a not too subtle reminder of the privilege that we come from and has daily caused us to be thankful for the lives that we have and the flexibility these positions grant us.  If this trip has shown us anything it is that our lives could have been otherwise.

It can be tough witnessing such poverty, knowing full well that we can escape it at any moment, that our trip has an expiration date.  For the people we have come here to serve this is their life and for the most part they do not get to leave.  It does not seem fair.  It is not fair.  We do not have to settle for this.  My hope for the trip was that people would see that.  I think people have, and despite the constant bombardment of death, disease, filth, and utter poverty we all remain strangely positive and as motivated and convicted as ever.  The world does not have to be divided between those who have and those who have not.  The many people we have worked with are living examples of that.  They are doing the work necessary to make this a reality.

Through our work, we have met some incredible people who have dedicated their lives to this work, whether it be at Freeset, Brother Xavier's, Loreto School, or Mother Teresa's.  These people have taken advantage of their positions of priviledge and dedicated their lives to helping those less fortunate.  Their work is admirable, inspiring, and encouraging that a better, more equitable, future is possible.  They are living proof that it can be otherwise.  They remind us that one day the world will be otherwise.  So instead of looking at all of this chaos in despair we can look with encouragement to the future.  There is a lot of work to be done.  Today seems like as good a day as any to start.  As we continue this work and head back to our lives in the U.S. it is important to always remember that it could be otherwise.

-Jerry

Otherwise

Jane Kenyon

I got out of bed

on two strong legs.

It might have been

otherwise. I ate

cereal, sweet

milk, ripe, flawless

peach. It might

have been otherwise.

I took the dog uphill

to the birch wood.

All morning I did

the work I love.

At noon I lay down

with my mate. It might

have been otherwise.

We ate dinner together

at a table with silver

candlesticks. It might

have been otherwise.

I slept in a bed

in a room with paintings

on the walls, and

planned another day

just like this day.

But one day, I know,

it will be otherwise.

Life and Death at Kalighat

With the joy of seeing smiles and happiness as men forever leave Kalighat for their homes comes the sadness of seeing those who never make it "home" but instead pass into a new life beyond.
Kalighat is a home for the extremely sick men and women of Kolkata. Many believe that Kalighat is a home strictly for those who are dying, men who will not survive. However this is not the truth, as Kalighat also takes in men with disease or diabetes, who need surgery and compassion before hopefully again being sent home. Half of the men at Kalighat will probably make it home, and the goal is to send everyone back to their families, although this is not the case. Many of the men at Kalighat are dying, but in a different way then us Americans see it. Three of the men at Kalighat have Parkinson's. They are able to move around a bit, and aren't in the act of dying, but need care and love, knowing that one day they will die. Two of the men have Cerebral Palsy. Imagine a man with CP on the streets, unable to move, wash, or change himself. That is why he is in Kalighat. Some of the men have diabetes, or are amputees, and hopefully will get medications and surgery and be on their way.
But some of the men will be there forever, guys who can no longer speak, or forget where they live. Some men have ALS, some have cancer, others are in pain, but un-diagnosed. All are mal-nourished. Some of the men have TB. The diseases are endless, as is the love.
After being at Kalighat for 3 weeks, I am lucky enough to get to see the happy stories. Since I have been there, 2 men have gone home, and 3 others are moving home this week. One man got into a fight with his wife, before storming out and becoming extremely ill living in the streets. He was un-able to make it home, or to communicate where he lived. After 7 months of living at Kalighat, a familiar face walked through the door; his wife. She had been looking for him all over the streets of Kolkata for months, unable to find him. Tears where shed, and another man made his way home. Another man who broke his femur and ankle in a construction accident heads home tomorrow!
But for most of the men at Kalighat who are extremely sick, life will end in a cot on the floor. This week, two men especially began the downward spiral of death. They first lost the ability to move around, stricken to their cots. Next, they lost the ability to hold their urine, and excrement. They lost their ability to eat, and their will to live. Seeing one of the men being given a feeding tube, I knew his time was near. I spent all of yesterday with him, rubbing his hand, praying, and singing. I heard the horrible sound of death rattles in his lungs, and new God was calling him home. Packing up for the day, I bent over and told him God was watching over him and protecting him.
He passed away yesterday afternoon, surrounded by the brothers and sisters who he called family. I hope that in the last few hours of his life, he found some peace. Knowing he was not alone, and that people still cared about him. He was loved till the moment he passed on, and still is.
Namaste,
Moe

A Home Filled with Grace

Hello again dear friends,

It's hard to believe that we are in the final few days here in Kolkata. In one sense, the time has passed quickly, and yet at times it seems as if we have been here for a long time. We are so eager to arrive home safely and to see all of you - our loved ones - and we are also sad to leave the people and work we have grown to love  here in India.

I'd like to share with you my reflections on the work I am doing. Along with Jerry and Mo, I am working at Kalighat - Mother Teresa's Home for the Dying and Destitute - it was the first home Mother Teresa founded. When we were asked to choose where we wanted to do service, I felt drawn to this place, I'm not sure why but I'm glad I had the opportunity to spend time in this special home.

I was a bit frightened on my first day. I wasn't sure what to expect or what I might see. I was not sure I would be able to be of helpful service and nervous about not knowing how to interact with the people of Kalighat. However, the day moved along fine and I had my first lesson about the tasks of each day. By the second day, I felt much more comfortable and by day three the 3 of us were the veterans trying to help the new volunteers.

Each day has a rhythm that now feels like a familiar dance. We arrive, do laundry, then patient care, and after a half hour break we serve lunch, clean up and do dishes, then finally retrieve the dry laundry and do as much folding as we can until noon. The work is physically demanding and it is hot. I will say a gratitude to my washing machine every time I do laundry in the future! However, I love the physical demand and the sweat. There is a quiet - and sometimes not so quiet - bonding as we all begin our day taking care of the basic need of cleaning clothes, sheets, and bed pads. Volunteers, massis, and nuns all huddle together over thigh-high tubs and pre-rinse, wash, rinse number one, rinse number two and finally carry the wash up to the roof to hang. There is a lot of laughter during this chore.

After laundry Jerry & Mo go the men's side and I to the women's side. My work has included giving lotion massages to heads, arms, hands, legs, & feet - assisting with bathroom trips and cleaning up the  accidents that sometimes happen - assisting with medications (I have become the go to volunteer for applying scabies lotion)  - exercise - and anything else the massis or nuns need help with. They call us "auntie" and when you hear the call you hustle to help! We heard that the massis could be tough on volunteers, but I have found ours to be hard-working, direct, and fun loving. I don't know the language so I'm not sure what they are saying most of the time. But the teasing and joyful laughter needs no common language.

After break - which is a wonderful time to visit with other volunteers from all over the world - we head back to give out lunch, collect plates when the women are finished, and do the dishes. The assembly line is similar to the wash - scrape, rinse, wash, rinse, rinse, dry and put away. The final task is to go to the roof and carry the dry laundry downstairs for folding. The folding is very precise - many of us have been chastised more than once for folding items incorrectly! We fold until noon and then leave for the day.

My initial fear has proven to be unnecessary. I have grown to have a quiet comfort at Kalighat. Along with the wonderful feeling that comes with the completion of the daily chores, my time with the women is a gift I will never forget. While two women are actively dying right now, the rest spend their days in the company of one another... living... waiting. This reality brings great sadness when I wonder what it is like for them. What do they think, how do they feel? But then I take time to sit and look around the ward and feel the peace, compassion, and tenderness that moves among all of us there at that moment. There is crying, pain, and suffering blended with care, kindness, and laughter. I wonder about the women who have dedicated their lives to this work. I honor them.

We are here to offer a little help for three weeks. However, I find that we are receiving so much more than we are giving. These women and men at Kalighat welcome us with grace. They allow us to spend  this short time with them and connect with us with dignity and gratitude. I will feel sad to say good-bye on Friday. I will be forever grateful for this time spent at Kalighat, a home filled with grace.

Peace,
Linda Hollingdale

One "Thank You" (or "Dhonnobad") is Not Enough

As Allison and I were riding back from Shanti Dan on bus 213, we realized we were passing the Loreto School. During our first week here we had ventured there on a day off to visit the brick yards where the Loreto School travels to provide education for the children there. (I'm not sure if this has been blogged about, but it was quite the experience).
We stopped there on our way back to our hotel to get a form for a donation of $1000 that we were able to make from our fundraising. That is all thanks to you!!!
Sr. Igora sat with us to chat. She knew of Allison and was gushing with enthusiasm that they were able to meet. It is hard to describe Sr. Igora other than saying she has the most lively and adorable spirit of anyone I have ever met. She is full of love and passion for what she does. Every other sentence seemed to be one of gratitude for the donation and and expression of love for God.
She works at the Loreto School, primarily in the Sealdah location. She explained that 75% of the students who study there (who are all girls) are from very poor backgrounds, many living on the streets. Donations help pay for these girls' education that they would not have otherwise. Currently, it costs 2000 rupees or $36 for each student every month. As a girl who has gone to affluent Catholic schools her entire life, it is interresting to think about the differences and similarities.
We were fortunate to visit on the day that they received their marks for their exams. Girls stopped in to visit Sr. Igora to talk about the outcome and their future. It was nice to hear that most have big plans to continue their studies.
After speaking to one girl, Sister explained that her father had died one week before final exams. she then said that one of the teachers at the school is now sponsering her and her sister so that they can continue their education. This is a testament to how passionate the teachers are at this school. They genuinely care for these girls and will do whatever it takes to give them a better future.
I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone back home for their very generous donations! Part of our journey here was fundraising and we wanted to bring as much as we could. You helped us to reach and far surpass our goal. So "THANK YOU!!!" from Allison, Linda, Jerry, Amanda, Kristen F, Walter, Nicole, Bri, Moe, Mary, and Kristen B. And of course I can't forget Sr. Igora, who desperately wanted me to pass this message along!
Kristen Beaulieu