In this moment

There is hope for change, small bits of progress that are making dreams that felt previously unrealistic, tangible. The pediatricians who stood up and offered their help after the seeing the news story are helping in ways that this community never dreamt of. De-worming treatments, vitamins and supplements are being given. Last week alone, a young boy who got a laceration on his head received proper stitching. A little girl who was sick for three weeks, got a free examination, Xray and antibiotic treatment. Her mother (who is younger than me) also received an exam/Xray and was, unfortunately, diagnosed with tuberculosis. There is no telling how long she has been suffering from it but we do know it is a miracle that her daughter has not caught it yet. Tuberculosis is tough, there is a set treatment but it requires six months of daily medication and three different medications at that. That treatment was previously unobtainable for her, let alone that if left to treat herself non-compliance is a guarantee. So we are formulating a plan and trying to get the medicine donated month by month from pharmaceutical companies. Even if that is not possible, the medicine will be purchased for her via donations from Deb or anyone that is willing. (Update: I just got news that the first month has been donated, and I will have to figure out the next five months as they come) Once we get started, I will meet her every day to administer her dose and give her a protein shake and in six months, hopefully we will have a TB free momma. Despite the diagnosis she was smiling ear to ear, thanking us for the care.

Then comes the dream of education. This has been keeping me up at nights, as my coworker who has her master's in public health would say: the key to breaking the cycle of poverty is food, shoes and education. Education. Education. Education... this is a barrier that is extremely difficult to overcome for reasons which maybe I will explain in another entry. I have tossed and turned and wondered what to do. I found a school near the train station who eventually pointed me to another school down the road. There at this Don Boscoe school, they offer night classes for street children. The ones who have never gone to school can receive literacy training, the others who do attend another school can receive tutoring and at the end of the day they get dinner. The school will prepare them for exams to enter regular schools and as I sat there talking to this principle I dreamt of the cycle weakening, to the point of cracking. Could some of my babies learn a trade, get a job beyond picking trash for recycling, not live in the slum someday? If just one, right? If just one breaks through. I well-up with tears over these hopes, they are so heavy in my heart. I feel like with the goal of education, I had been grasping at straws when someone came along and put the ground back under my feet. There is a lot of planning to do before the new school year starts in August. I was told they can wear anything but based on previous talks with some of the kids, one big reason they don't attend school is because they don't have the proper clothing. So uniforms and shoes for each child whose families will allow them to attend the classes are a necessity. It will not be an easy road, or an instantaneous change but, friends, there is a very real dream becoming reality in Lakhtokia. 

The homes of the ones I love

It has been nearly 8 months since I first walked through the slum area of Lakhtokia. I had seen pictures of massive slums, this is one is small by comparison to the ones that pop up in major cities like Mumbai. Despite its small size, I was shocked at how many people could live in one space. I remember feeling almost like I was invading their privacy because I was so out of place and they live their lives in the open. I tried not to gawk but I was estimating how many children there were and trying to comprehend what I was seeing. Maybe it is because I have been there now so many times, their homes so clear in my head that I forget that not everyone knows or can visualize what we speak of when we use the word 'slum.' I guess my best description with words is that slum homes are made of other people's discarded materials. Some with tarps, cardboard maybe even some old metal siding. They are easily broken down, burnt and moveable if needed quickly (the government here randomly decides to raze slum areas, leaving the families without homes and no alternative place to go) Some have been built behind fencing that was there for the train tracks and they even form little alleyways and rows, it is actually quite organized when you take a walk through the insides of the rows.

Lakhtokia

Backside of two rows of homes

Inside a typical slum home

One of the downfalls of the otherwise awesome leaf plates is that they tend to leak a bit. The manager of the temple where we serve the food isn't a fan of this and tried to get us to go back to the aluminum containers. I say tried because it wasn't something I could really budge on so instead the solution is that the kids cannot sit on the temple grounds to eat therefore reducing the mess. I was walking sweet Mirna back to her home yesterday (the wee ones struggle with the big plates) when I was just washed with momentary sadness. What do they do when it rains? What if they fall ill with cholera or dysentery, unable to escape the monsoon water and the diseases it can carry? How do they sleep at night? What would they think if they saw my home? I don't know the answers to all of these questions but I know  we have an awesome group of pediatricians who would treat their illness. We have friendship and time together rain or shine. This is their home, it is what they know, it is where they are comfortable. So instead of getting totally lost in the sadness, I took a moment to sit Mirna down inside the four cardboard walls where she lives, placed her food on the makeshift table and became overwhelmed with thankfulness at being so welcome inside these homes. 

Butterflies

I had nervous butterflies this weekend as we made meals and headed out to Lakhtokia, I knew how much I had been missing these children and hoped that they would welcome my return. Deb and I were buying bananas when I saw Asbanu and Puja further down in the market. I saw them first and when they looked up the expression on their face said something like "Do I see who I think I see?!" Carefully they walked through the slippery mud to me, and hugged me with looks of disbelief in their eyes. I had promised them I would be back but I have a feeling that promises made are not often kept in their little corner of the world. After purchasing the bananas we walked arm in arm to the small temple where we have been distributing the meals. It was incredible. The kids lined up all of the serving vessels, organized the line and started handing it out (even asking for the marker when we forgot to give it to them.) The rest of us just stood and overlooked everything, played around and gave out lots and lots of hugs. I am almost certain that if allowed, these wonderful kiddos would gladly help make the food too! It was incredible, just incredible to remember the very first time Asbanu decided to help hand out the meals and then to see how they have completely taken responsibility in helping one another. 

Realizing how much things have grown gives me hope for the future and the dreams I have for this community. Hopefully lots of good news will be coming our way soon and I will gladly share it when it does. 

Reunited with the ever-sweet Asbanu

 Bare bum on the rail just kills me!

Going around all of the homes, gathering friends

While I was away

The Sunday that I left for the states to renew my visa I told some of the children to count five Sundays and then I would be back. A few of them broke down into tears, thinking that they would not see anyone on Sundays during that time. I quickly explained that every week they would continue to get their food and that was largely due to the ever awesome Deborah:

I had asked Deb to head up the project in my absence and though I know it made her nervous, she excitedly accepted the challenge. After a few weeks of 'precepting' (nurse jokes) she was on her own. Little did I know that one of the weeks Deb completely made all of the food by herself. Making a meal for eighty is no easy task, add in power outages and transporting four hundred leaf plates alone on a scooter and I'd say that Deb is extremely dedicated to these kids. I swell knowing that so many people here care enough to donate their time and resources to help and every week when I got a little report from her I ached to be home but felt so much comfort. Also, nearly all of the photos you see of the kids and the project are taken by her. I hate typing it out but in just two weeks she has to head back to the U.S. and resume life in the states. We will all sorely miss her, and hope to see her on this side again soon. Below are just a few of the snaps she took while I was away...

 A little guy walking across the tracks with his plate to his slum home on the other side.

 Showing off their muscles!

 A regular kiddo showing a new boy how to carry his plate and where to sit. My heart melted when she shared this one with me. 

Joy in the midst of immeasurable heartache.

Visitors world wide loving on the kids!

Stitches/Time

Yesterday I finally got to meet the twins my cousin adopted from Ghana and hear the incredibly beautiful story of bringing their family together. It was about five years ago that she, her husband and their three children realized that there were twins half way across the world waiting to be the final stitch in their family. After two years, they travelled together to finally bring them home and become complete. I would love to share with you the whole story but that is theirs, and it is so so special that I wouldn't want to mess up on any of the details.

As we talked about the first time they got to meet the twins in person, my cousin described the feeling of hugging her daughter for the first time. She can recall every sense experience that was engaged in that moment and it is something she will carry with her forever. Tears streamed down my face as I recalled so vividly having that experience the first time I held Asbanu in my arms, a hug that changed my life. Her scent as she nestled deep into my shoulder, the feeling of the her cotton dress that was pilling from age. Her thin arms and legs wrapped around me, how light she was and easy to pick up despite her age. I remember the feel of her hair, dry and brittle from malnutrition and how dirty the shampoo became as I scrubbed it for the first time. How surprised her bright eyes were when she realized I was going to wash her feet myself and how rough her little feet were in my hands. The feeling of realizing stitches were being made, knitting our lives together.

I struggle with wanting to know right now every plan that is store for these children and my life. However, a lesson worth learning is that patience and faith are old friends with time. More often than not in my life plans are revealed slowly. But oh how I ache for this:

 I may not be a mommy (to her or any of the children) and I don't know what the future holds but that was the moment that I knew this, this was meant to be.

Three Hundred and Sixty Five Days

One year ago on this day I felt completely broken and even totally lost. I had chosen to head a new direction but I wasn't armed with a map or a guide or anything of the sort. I felt my heart was open though it was raw with the pain of a lost love, the uncertainty of leaving behind the life I had known for 25 years, worrying about family fallen with illness and simply the act of moving half way around the world... Never did I imagine what wonderful things were in store....

I remember when I finally announced that I would be making this move. A decision that had been heavy in my heart since before I left from my short term mission to Guwahati. Oh little did I know just how long I would be here!

Just a few weeks later my heart was crushed by an unexpected break up which in retrospect I am so thankful for as it allowed me to completely give my life to service here.

Soon after moving I realized that my patients would fill me with a lot of questions, what would it feel like to be born and live with an unrepaired cleft lip? How does surgery change you? I weeped for the first time over the humbling realization that nothing I had faced in my life compared to what our many patients endure on a daily basis.

In September I realized that my life is no longer mine and that is when things really started to change. Sitting at my kitchen table in that moment is absolutely when I decided to give of myself in every way possible... not knowing what would come of it.

I continued to relfect on how my patients at the surgical center felt about receiving life changing surgery. And my heart just kept growing for them.

In October I decided to start making food for the street kids... by myself! I asked God for help and he sent me Chetri. Thus the project Asha Guwahati was born.

I learned to live openly and that life is best lived on your feet. Friends and coworkers like Kelly, Rosie, and Deborah became a consistent support to the project and started helping to move it forward.

In November the kids we had been feeding on the street disappeared so I went back to where Chetri had led me that first week. The train track slums of Lakhtokia.

I experienced agape love for the first time in December. A constant stream of volunteers at the surgical center also generated help, ideas and donations for the children of Lakhtokia. From one side of the world to the other, that agape love stretched.

I became close friends with a little girl named Sima in January.

Asha Guwahati made the local news in March.

We realized that every single act here, big or small matters to these children. We saw their hearts start growing with ours.

Honestly, today I ache with different pains because there is this brokenness that comes with the humility I have learned to submit myself fully to here.  April  is coming to a close and I continue on with my work at the surgical center. Over 5,000 patients have received free surgery in Guwahati. Twenty five local nurses have expanded and challenged their careers. Eighty children receive free meals every Sunday in the slums of Lakhtokia and more importantly, they have become some of our best friends. The change in them is the most real form of love I have experienced in my life. Three hundred and sixty five days later I realize that, in fact, many small acts have already led to tangible difference in North East India. Here is to another three hundred and sixty five days full of love, brokenesss, service, humbleness and full hearts...

I want you guys to meet Sultan, one of the boys living in Lakhtokia. I have to admit that when I first came to know him, I thought it was probably too late to change his course in life. He was so rough after fourteen years of living in the slums. Loud, quick to anger, and always with a petrol soaked hankie in his hand. Quickly we realized how much potential was inside this hard exterior. He is silly, protective, hard working and is learning every week how to serve. He keeps us accountable, makes us laugh and most of all loves jumping in to help every week. Having friends like Sultan led us to be comfortable in making a very big change this week.

 One of the goals I have had for a long time is to find a more environmentally friendly way to serve the food. Up until this point we have been using two foil containers for each child, and we all cringe weekly when we picture in our heads all of the waste being created. Last week I was discussing with two visitors the dilemma and we were tossing back and forth solutions when they mentioned leaf plates often used at temples. It was like a light bulb went off! I went out on Saturday to the wholesale market and sure enough found the leaf plates! They are made 100% of leaves, pressed together with bits of stem woven through to create a better hold. Totally natural, totally biodegradable! Also, it cuts the cost of the serving vessels in half!

By deciding to use the plates we also were making the decision to completely change how we give out the food. Instead of arriving with it all pre-packaged, we now were going to have to serve it in the slum itself. I imagined the chaos and then remembered Sultan and took comfort in knowing that he would surely be there to help! We arrived and sure enough, he treated the situation like this is how it has been for the last six months. He jumped right up, grabbed a stack of plates, helped get the kids in line and the serving began. It was definitely the most chaotic it has been in some time but watching him in the midst of all of us, taking joy in literally serving makes up for any hiccup in the process. Another huge advantage of serving this way is that instead of running home with the food, most of the kids sat down and ate it right away with us. After all was said and done, Sultan set aside his own plate, washed down the temple we served from, loaded the equipment in the tuk tuk and called it a day.

 I almost can't believe that I once worried he was a 'lost cause.' I look at that picture of him over and over and all I see is a type of determination that can only come from living a hard life. Every day is a fight just to survive, but when given the opportunity to thrive kids with determination like Sultan's show that nothing is lost on them....