Not Your Average College Student

Most people wander through life, waiting for something or someone to give the feeling of a purpose or meaning to their existence. The experiences that I was faced with in Kolkata for the past three weeks has allowed me to begin to understand that the mere idea or thought that we need someone else to show us our importance is just plain silly. We ourselves make our own destiny. 

This is my second trip to Kolkata and through this experience I have had a chance to grasp it, hold onto it for dear life, and wring every bit of experience I can from it before it passes by. These experiences will replay in my mind day after day, hour after hour as I remember glances of children begging on the streets or walking through someone's home on the sidewalk as they take a shower or brush their teeth using the public pipes, or a smile from an elder sitting in the shade trying to stay out of the sun in the 100 degree weather. Those moments I will cherish forever. They are not only shocking and eye opening, but they allow me to be grateful for the things I have and the importance of family. Yet, recently I met a girl named Puja whom allowed me to question every complaint I have ever given within my entire life. 

Puja, is an 18 year old woman. She is a student who lives on her own, attends college, hangs out with friends and works to pay for her college and food. You must be thinking this sounds like your average college student who is paying their way through school trying to recieve an education without the funding from family. What I didn't include is Puja's home is in a large slum. She lives on a very busy street that is full of noise and culture. Her home consists of one room, that is made from ply wood and her own walls are the base of another home. She cooks her meals in the door way of her home in a make shift stove. In order to get into Puja's home you must walk in this narrow hall that has no roof and climb up this little ladder and once you reach the top you must hop down to the ground. There are no doors and if anyone wanted they could walk right into her home. Her home, which was once her family's home, has been knocked down five times since December by the Kolkata Government because it is on government property. When monsoon season arrives, her home is flooded with inches of water that can add up to feet in many cases. Yet, she has no other outlet so she must live in her flooded home as she tries to live a normal life. The most shocking thing for me is that this 18 year old lives on her own. She sleeps alone, with no doors, and no protection from the unsafe and corrupt forces that arise in the nightfall of Kolkata. 

When talking to Puja I began to recognize what an inspiration she was. She was all alone inspired to go to college and provide for herself in order to succeed in her life. She has a smile of an angel and doesn't even realize that female empowerment she has on others. Puja has two younger sisters who attend the Loreto school as rainbows and that is how we were introduced. Puja's two sisters, Lolita and Kanchan, are given a free education because of the incredible opportuinty the Loreto school provides for them. The rainbow girls, are girls from the streets and slums of Kolkata. They are provided with meals, a place to sleep, securtity, love and an education, which is often not the case in government schools, where teachers often don't show up and the ratio is one teacher to 120 children. 

This family, whose mother and other siblings live in a village outside of the city, has resided a place in my heart for the rest of my life. They have experienced hardships that I can not even imagine. I hope each of these stong and independent females succeed in all of their lifes' ventures. They allowed me to place the frequent story of poverty to a name and face.  To hear the struggles one must face when 13, 15 or 18 years old, that no one should have to deal with ever in their life, is astonishing. Puja, Lolita, and Kanchan are three women who will defeat all obstacles in order to succeed in life, not only because they are strong but because they have one another and are able to rely on one another for support. 

In our westernized culture I find that most people rely on their parents, siblings, aunts, friends, professors, and many others to do the work for them rather than do it themselves. When graduating from college most students don't get their jobs from their major or their gpa, rather through connections who they have met along their way or who their parents know. As a recent graduate, you continue to hear the question "what are you doing with the rest of your life?" by family members, friends, or professors. I am lucky enough to know, I am moving to England to coach lacrosse and work alongside the PE department in a coed private school for an entire year. But for friends who are just going with the flow and haven't quite figured it out, I want to shout at those who are asking the question that we are 21 or 22 years old and recent graduates need soul searching and life experiences in order to grasp a better understanding of the world rather than just knowing the small bubble we were stuck in for the four years of college. 

Kolkata has imprinted a place on my heart. It's stories and beauty will be an everlasting memory that will stay with me forever. 

-NB

"If you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." Mother Teresa

It's hard to believe that our three weeks is coming to an end, but it is a joy to hold in our hearts all of the experiences that we have had as a group and as individuals here in Kolkata. I could tell you all of the different moments that I now cherish, but for now I think it is just as important to acknowledge that a part of me has shifted, in more ways than one. Although I may not know what life has in store for me and what direction my future career will take, I know that I will go about life and the ways I interact with the world and the people in it with a lot more love - and isn't love all that we need?

-AMS

Untouchability; Kolkata, India

As my time here in Kolkota is ending, I find myself reflecting on what has impacted me the most on this trip. From day one, walking the streets of Kolkata, all of my senses are overloaded with the sights, smells and sounds of the city of joy. The things I have seen just walking on the streets, volunteering at Mother Teresa homes and the many different types of poverty will stay with me forever. However, there is one aspect of Indian culture, one that I knew about before coming on this trip, that I will never fully understand and it fills me with anger--the Idea or belief of untouchability in India. This is an issue that I have a lot of trouble wrapping my head around. 

From my understanding, the "untouchables" or 'dalits" of India are the poorest of the poor who work for little to no money, and who are illiterate and neglected by society. They are modern day slaves, in my opinion. I see them all over the streets of Kolkata and in places like the brick fields where families, with children as young as five, pack 2,000 mud bricks each day, drying them in the sun, and carrying them in towers on their head to the piles that will go off to construction across the city. And there is one scene in particular of a woman who would be labeled "untouchable" that will stay with me forever. Once while I was on an auto rickshaw ride back to BMS after dinner, I saw an old lady with starchy white hair that hasn't been washed in a long time. She was crossing the railroad tracks as our eyes caught each other. When I caught glimpses of her empty silvery eyes, I felt the biggest divide I have ever felt with anyone. There I was staring at someone who had lived a very different life than me. I couldn't help but think to myself, "who's taking care of her?" and "Why is she alone?" Since that first interaction I have seen her lying in the same exact spot multiple times. 

I can not imagine the hurt and sadness of those who are socially and economically impaired because they are labeled from birth as untouchable. This, like the never-changing polluted grey, hazy sky of Kolkata, India, is one of the many umbrellas of oppression you find here. One way this can change is through educating young children in inclusiveness of others and empathy. I'm glad I was able to see the work that the Loreto School is doing with the children on the streets of Kolkata and the brick fields. It truly filled me with hope and peace of mind that there are people dedicated to change. 

What I have witnessed on this trip will forever be engraved in my mind and heart. This experience has been humbling, thought provoking and emotional.

Namaste, 

Edmilse Diaz, '15

Musings on Kolkata; Reflecting On Service.

`Volunteering can be very difficult, very humbling, and scatterred with the moments of great joy. 

I have become more patient, as well as developed the ability to be comfortable with having no direction for what to do next.

I can no longer avoid children -they are the next phase in the cycle of poverty (any cycle of oppression). 

I feel more open to and aware of the world around me, as well as compassion toward the people in it. 

Volunteering helps me to learn compassion, practice patience, and feel gratitude. 

Compassion, patience, relaltionships, and awareness of problems that can occur in our own backyard or in other countries have all been strengthen through volunteering. 

The opening of my eyes allowed the healing of my heart. 

It's important to take care of yourself (in more ways than one) so that you can give your all into taking care of others -its okay to take a break! 

It has taught me to not only feel more compassionate towards others but to act out that compassion. 

Once I knew it was broken, and I saw it, I couldn't forget it!

A Birthday to Remember

Safe to say, when I found out I would be spending my 20th birthday in Kolkata, I was excited regardless of what I would be doing.  It is also safe to say, that the day did not disappoint, and was indeed the best birthday I think I've ever had.

The day started off with a visit to the Loretto School for girls. The Loretto School was where Mother Teresa got her start in India as a teacher and currently runs programs all over India, empowering women and giving them a chance at an education and a future.  The different programs Loretto runs includes the day school, the rainbow school where street children come to live and go to school where it is safe, the brickfield schools where children of migrant workers can get an education for a year, Barefoot teacher training, and many others.  It is a really wonderful school with a great mission and a powerful message.  During the presentation about the school and the girls and the different programs, a couple different things struck me.  One of these, was when Anita, one of the women that works at Loretto, described the type of education the girls recieve.  She mentioned that while some of the girls' grades are mediocre, what really matters is that they are leaders, and are taught compassion.  According to their philosophy, no education is complete without teaching the student compassion.  Without compassion, their education is only for themselves.  This really struck a chord with me, and it seems like compassion is something that should be added to every school's curriculum.  It was really rewarding to see the schools that we had been fundraising for all year and to see where the money we raised was going and the children and people that it would benefit.  

As the presentation wrapped up and we were graciously brought cold drinks (it was a hot one in Kolkata!), they showed us some of the things that the girls make that they sell.  A couple of sarees were on the table that caught our eye.  I had previously bought a saree at a market and still had no idea how to wear it.  Anita offered to dress one of us without me even asking.  Two of the women dressed me in this beautiful and stunning orange saree with silver beading and a green border.  I've never felt so elegant, while also so sweaty at the same time! Abbey got dressed up in another saree and with Ben wearing a traditional men's shirt, we were complete! It was so fun and a great way to get to know the women, and also a good start to my birthday.  

The afternoon brought Steph, Marlyn, Eddy, Abbey, and I to the Victoria Memorial, a memorial built dedicated to Queen Victoria.  We thought about the irony of a monument built to a colonial queen as we walked around the enormous building that, to us, resembled the US capital building.  The grounds were peaceful and full of trees, flowers and bodies of water.  It was nice to be tourists along with other Indian families, even though we were still asked to be in pictures with some of their children, which is pretty fun if you embrace it!

After we hung out in some shops on Sudder Street for a while, we headed to the rooftops after the sunset for some nice fancy drinks to celebrate my birthday.  The rooftop restaurant allowed a beautiful view of Kolkata from above.  It didn't seem so hot up here, with a nice breeze to dsturb the stagnant air.  While sipping on some smoothies and sprites, we enjoyed each other's company and laughed together, with the Muslim call to prayer echoing in the background and Kolkata twinkling below us.  It was one of my favorite moments from the day.   To simply sit back and be with people who are so caring and thoughtful individuals is such a blessing that I am so thankful for.  After a quick dinner at our favorite Blue Sky restaurant, we headed home.

After such an incredible day, I was dead tired.  But, we still all got together for a reflection of our day's experiences, as we do every evening. It is a wonderful way to decompress and sit together and process everything we had done and seen that day.  It was also the perfect way to end my 20th birthday.

As our final week here begins, it is hard to believe that our time here is almost over.  We have been out all day everyday, soaking up every last bit of Kolkata that we can.  I continue to meet new, amazing people and visit unique and humbling places.  I'm so thankful that I got to spend my birthday in such an amazing place with amazing people.  Here's to hoping our final week is as wonder-filled as the rest of our time here has been.

Namaste,

Andie

On Joy and Sorrow.

Despite our best precautions, and the fact that hospital visits rarely (if ever) happen on the Kolkata trip, this kid was admitted to Mercy Hospital last Friday morning after a bad bout of stomach illness. Luckily I got the care I needed, and all is well in my tummy and also amongst the group.

When we learned we would be there for longer tham the anticipated (hoped for) eight-or-so hours on an IV, Allison joked that my stay would be an extended meditation. Turns out it was just that; I had the room to myself, and between visits from my Saint Mike's amigas I spent time reading magazines or contemplating the texture of the eggshell wall opposite my bed. If I had to share a 'rose' from that experience, it was sipping my morning tea while philosophizing about the nature of being and implications of string theory in doing service. I'm totally kidding, but I've learned that I dig tea more than I thought previously.

But there was time and context for reflection. I was placed in the 'Executive Ward' of the hospital, i.e. there were never more than 2-4 patients on the floor, and each of us had spacious accomodations with a TV and porcelain toilets like the ones at home (many Indians are more accustomed to toilets that lie in the ground and require a squatting posture for use). Further, at any given time, I had 2-3 nurses tending to my various medications and overall well-being. I was positively spoiled, and a food bacteria that would have been little (if any) issue for a majority of Kolkata citizens took enough care to treat 10 others in more unfortunate financial circumstances. 

We learned during my stay that Mercy provides healthcare to people unable to pay, and our nurse explained that for those patients, they do the best they can with the resources they have. In other words, no way are they able to treat every ill person in need of health care, and when they are, I doubt they get a room to themselves. I was literally and figuratively sitting on the top floor of the hospital, and the money that we paid for my healthcare would have to be spread far and thin as best it could accomodate the other patients who could not pay. I sat in a birds nest of privilege, pondering the extreme poverty experienced by many of Koklata's population from above. This, more than the stomach bug, was hard to cope with.

In lamenting extreme poverty, I think it's important to avoid pity. I also think it's important to avoid describing people and places as poor; people aren't poor, poverty exists in the context of people's lives. I make this distinction because often, rather than alleviating poverty (which is ultimately what I see as an ideal, long-term end of service and social progress initiatives), describing people as 'poor' inadvertently reinforces that reality. We don't want poverty, but we see it; so rather than call a situation 'poor', I find it important to recognize that duality, and do our best to shift that language.

Some days ago, a friend of mine (a Kolkata trip alum) sent me some beautiful prose on the duality of joy and sorrow, from her favorite poet Kahlil Gibran:

"Some of you say, 'Joy is greater than sorrow,' and others say 'Nay, sorrow is the greater.' But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed."

Kolkata is nicknamed 'The City of Joy,' so in this passage I find a certain resonance with my experiences here. If poverty is sorrow, then let us also recognize its necessary counterpart called opportunity. Organizations like the Loreto Schools, one of which operates in Kolkata, strive to fight poverty of wealth and spirit by instilling agency, leadership, compassion and responsibility in their students. Their gates are quite literally open; students may come and go, because they believe that a student need believe in the education they will receive in order for it to do any good, and by creating a system of trust, rather than force, they shape a more holistic human. Freeset, a company that employs former sex workers (all women) to make bags, t-shirts and other goods that are sold internationally, also aids them in accessing the things they need (healthcare, training, housing if necessary), and runs outreach programs all over West Bengal to help other women in the same situation. And obviously, the Mother Teresa organization has been doing incredible work to serve the poor and marginalized in India for over half a century.

There is extreme poverty in Kolkata, but these organizations are a beacon of resilience. Kolkata doesn't have to be poor, and recognizing that is integral if the world is to erradicate poverty in West Bengal and elsewhere.

Peace, love, and all the best,

Ben Rosbrook, '15

P.S. - A VERY happy 20th birthday to our own Andie Gemme!

beauty.

The job I look forward to least: laundry.

Before coming to India, I had never really handwashed my clothes. I have always been fortunate to have a washing machine close at hand where I can easily drop my laundry in, throw some detergent in, and wait for it to be washed and then dried. 

Every morning after arriving at Shanti Dan, we don our aprons and head to this open room behind the dormitory. There you can find three large cement tubs filled with soapy water and an array of colors floating through the small current that is caused by the throwing of clothes from one tub to the next. After rinsing, we wring out each piece before placing it into a bucket that will be taken up the three flights of stairs to the roof. Once I reach the tops of those three flights of stairs my spirits begin to dampen. 

If you asked Marlyn, Andie, or I about the laundry hanging system at Shanti Dan, you would find yourself stuck in a conversation with us puzzled about how it makes sense. The Massis (the women who work at the Mother Teresa Houses, cleaning, cooking, and caring) have a very specific way of doing it. I'm talking VERY specific. Certain things can only go on certain lines, elastic waists have to hang a certain direction, and the sheets can only go on certain fences. Not only is this map of laundry difficult for us to memorize, but we can't speak Bengali. So imagine it. The sun is beating down on us, the humidity makes it feel like we're walking through soup, and the Massis are trying to communicate with us to tell us where things go while we're clueless. It's easy to get frustrated. 

 It dawned on me today, as I was hanging a sheet on the third line to the left on the fourth pole from the door, the experience is like much of our time in Kolkata. It's hot, sweaty, and at times frustrating, but in the end it's rewarding and beautiful. Many of us have been struggling with the stares, constant honking and deep poverty to the challenges faced in our Houses. Personally I struggle with how to interact with and help the girls who are severely handicapped. But in the end, it's just like hanging laundry, we have to trust the process and find beauty in the connections. While hanging laundry today, there was a moment where I found pure beauty. I had just hung a pink small sheet and maybe it's the way the sun hit it, but that pink sheet was bright and it was beautiful. I imagined how it would dry and eventually be used again for the bedding of one of the girls as she sleeps.  

I'm only here for three weeks and the Massis will continue washing that pink sheet long after I go. It's beautiful tho think their hardwork will continue to care and support these girls. 

   

Today during lunch, I had the opportunity to feed Sharmila. She is wheelchair bound and does not communicate nor make eye contact with anyone. Since many of the girls have similar situations, I find myself rubbing their shoulders or humming a song to communicate and show my affection towards them. While feeding her the rice and potato mix with the delicious aroma filling the room, Sharmila all of a sudden started laughing. Full-on grinning and laughing. I'm not sure if it was her way of acknowledging my poor attempts of Bengali or if she was showing her excitement for the next delicious bite, but I like to think that that moment was the start of our friendship. Her laugh is sweet. It's warm. And it's rare. 

Namaste,

Steph