Catholic Relief Services

Frontiers of Justice Program

July 2004

India

Program Overview:
In partnership with the National Catholic Educational Association (NCEA) Secondary Schools department, CRS offers an experience of global solidarity for a small group of Catholic high school teachers each summer. Through prayer and reflection on Catholic social teaching, the group connects with CRS' overseas work in education, health, agriculture, community banking, and peacebuilding by visiting development projects, meeting with community leaders, and discerning how they can enhance their educational ministry (for more information Frontiers of Justice).  During July 2004 , SI's Christian Service Director-Jenny Girard-was one of 6 teachers selected to participate in the CRS delegation to India.   Her journey is shared here through her personal journal reflections.

Please take a moment to scroll down the journal and just look at the photos.  Skim the words. 

There is much here and it will take some time to read it--so I invite you to just view the photos

and at moments read where you find an interest. Thank you for stopping in,  Jenny Girard

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Like no other place I have been India gets under your skin, and lingers.   It ferments,   bubbles,   boils,   pushes-the strength of one billion people pushing- into your heart as it explodes so vibrantly that you feel slightly repulsed yet overwhelmingly touched by the grime,   poverty,   and immense beauty all at once.   India touches and exploits every sense.   It may even invent new senses, for while I was there I felt entirely consumed, both loved fully,   completely,    and absolutely worn out—used up—by the bombarding sights,   smells,   sounds of a country so vast,   so hot,   so welcoming,   so intense,   so colorful.   While there,   writing was futile.   Every moment was used for the experience,   nothing left over to spit out on paper as I was too busy already having another,   different,   delightful moment.   Every second filled by sensory overload and magic.  

What follows are my journal notes,  my reflections on the experience of being with the incredible people of India for 10 days this summer. At SI.  we ask our students to be present to the poor and to engage in meaningful service during their high school years.  As they do this,  students are also challenged to reflect on what they learn and the new perspectives gained through service.  As I traveled to India,  I challenged myself to share the stories, the moments of learning through a personal journal.  I have pulled my thoughts and photos together,  after my return,  to be shared here with you.

I want to thank my colleagues on this journey: Tinnah,  Katherine,  Brian,  Dawn,  Neal,  Mike, Michaela and Jim,  for their unconditional support as I learned,  experienced and witnessed.  I also thank them for their photos---for many of the images on this page are due to them. Thank you!

July 14,   2004

We left, my 8 companions (Dawn, Tinnah,   Katherine, Michaela,   Jim,   Neal,   Mike, Brian)   and I--as guests of the Catholic Relief Services, as a delegation of teachers on a journey to witness the work of social justice first hand.   We did not know what the schedule would be, but we left Washington DC on July 14 to experience two weeks in the cities and villages of India.

  Our delegation in Washington DC before leaving for India

Arriving at Delhi after 20 hours of travel was invigorating because so much was new.  The airport was quiet inside, not nearly as packed as I imagined.   Of course it was only filled with about 400 sleepy souls arriving from London unaware of the noise beyond the terminal walls.   But when we came outside there were people everywhere.   This would be my first of four arrivals to airports in India---and so it remains the most vivid.   Faces, signs,   warm air (not yet heat as it was 1am),   cars,   mopeds,   people vying to grab your suitcases to get porter money.  

That drive is imprinted in my memory, as most of my first trips into a new country I visit.   First of all,   we were back on the left side of the street.   The British Empire had left its mark.   So I had to contend with the feeling of driving on the opposite side of the road for a few moments.   It was dark,   yet immensely crowded with cars,   bikes and mopeds.   Construction was going on---at 1:30 in the morning!   Delhi is putting in new over passes and roads so there is much work happening 24 hours a day.   We saw work happening everywhere.

Then we saw our first of a thousand cows while in India.   And then our second, third,   fourth,   fifth and sixth. Just walking around.   Standing on the sidewalk,   n the middle of the road,   doing what cows do,   existing.   There were not nearly as many as I would see during the day.    I guess I thought it was folklore because seeing the cows impressed me.   The cows are truly there in the middle of the streets and on the highways!

I also remember the people I saw that night.   Most were sleeping on the ground,   on the side of the busy road we traversed.   Just asleep.   I saw a woman on a mat, lying on her side with three small children sleeping within the C shape she made with her body.   Asleep on the street, no blanket,   nothing,   just them on the road,   just a foot from a busy street full of cars.

My heart was moved but also stayed gentle because I knew there would be so much more like this to see and experience.

Our driver introduced us that night to Indian driving.   Anyone familiar with India, who has ever been there,   knows that Indians drive with their eyes and with their hands on their horn.   They honk all the time!   To notify other drivers they are passing them, to pass,   to just say “hey I am here!”   They honk every few seconds.   Honking is a sound I think I may now always associate with India.   Our driver honked.   He also did not drive in the lanes.   Well no one drives in lanes.   They may drive so that the lane line is directly down the middle of their car, but never on one side or another of the white line.   A two-lane road, is really used as a three or four lane road and honking makes that all possible.   At first I thought it was madness. That night in the haze of little sleep I thought it was madness.   But soon I learned to appreciate its efficiency,   the almost ballet-like movement of cars from place to place,   particularly when entering or exiting a roundabout.   I learned to not judge,   but observe.   Indians do many things in unique ways.

We drove onward and around several roundabouts until we arrived at Hotel Vikram.   A nice hotel,   it provided us with a few moments of luxury at the beginning and end of our travels.  

July 15,   2004

Morning dawned and I remember, in my haze, walking to my window, which had three layers of curtains on it.   I opened it up and saw the grey, hot day that I think is Delhi most days---and I felt the window and learned why the curtains were there—at 7am the window were steamy.   I dressed for my day.

The highlight for us that day was meeting Dr Shanti---whose foundation receives CRS funds to stop child labor and move kids into classrooms of learning.   Her vision of equality and partnership with employers was inspiring---very Ghandian.   To her it is all about building bridges---doing right with the children and giving them opportunities to learn,   not forcing them to work even when they are just 8 years old.   Dr Shanti introduced us to this important debate which is strong everywhere,   but particularly in the Indian countryside---children are needed to work the land and so schooling is still a very precarious commodity.   AND girls are looked down upon and more often than boys are taken out of school to work or to be married off at really young ages.   After this talk it hit me that we were there—in India--and that soon I would be even more immersed.

  With Dr Shanti

We also went to Michael's Care Home—the first HIV/AIDS Hospice in Delhi.   What an amazing place!   They have beds for both men and women,   and they care for those who are ill or who have been stigmatized by this illness.   India has not yet been able to alter the mass perception that AIDS is something to be stigmatized.   They also have a micro-enterprise   which employs people, men and women,   in making fabrics and handmade papers.   They have a lovely,   basement store---we did some shopping there at the end of our visit with Loon,   the program's director.

July 16,   2004

The next morning we left for our travels—on Jet Airlines.   Our drivers inadvertently deposited us at the wrong terminal and so 9 Americans,   with 20 bags between us walked the 10 blocks from one terminal to the other.   It was early morning,   maybe 8am,   and already hot beyond words!. By the time I made it to the terminal I was a sweaty mess---unbeknown to me I really wasn't a sweaty mess, just slightly damp…..because soon I learned what it truly is to be a sweaty mess and in retrospect that morning was a delightful,   not too hot walk.   It was nothing like the days soon to come in the villages or in Kolkata.  

We arrived to a much busier airport in Kolkata.   Immediately a group came to us from CRS to lead us to the cars.   All of the sudden our bags were taken and carried towards the vehicles.   When we arrived at our cars,   we realized that those carrying our bags were not our guides,   they were not our drivers—and now wanted money for helping us out.   Interesting I thought—that was quick.   I gave my porter a little cash—and then he left.   But soon others came to us,   in particular a little boy who persistently looked at me asking for money.   Another couple was there as well,   the woman with eyes glazed over and blind.   Begging with their hands and voices. It tore at my heart,  but I knew that I must be silent, say prayers.  We got inside our Jeep and waited to leave—and they stayed around the car,   peering in the window to me,   begging and imploring.   It was really the most heartbreaking moment..  

Arriving in Kolkata we met Vinod our host for the next three days. Vinod is a State director for CRS---he took us on a quick tour of Kolkata—down to the Ganges River and Millennium Park.   I was amazed as we drove into the city how green it was,   and how completely Asian it was.   There were ponds and lakes all over.   Palm trees,   boats being moved by men with long poles….rice patties everywhere.   I thought that the surrounding area of Kolkata was beautiful. The area we toured was lovely too—very British.  

As the center of British India up until 1911,   Kolkata is only 300 years old and was built in the British style.   It still has its areas that resemble this style.   In the nicer parts of the city,   the streets are wide and there are several monuments.   We went to Victoria Memorial—which was a museum,   no air conditioning,   but good to get a grasp of the history.   This would be our only time for “tourist type touring”   as I like to put it.

Kolkata:  On the Ganges and On the Street

Jenny and Michaela in front of Victoria Memorial              Victoria Memorial,  Headquarters of the British Colony until 1912

We ate a simple meal at Millennium Park.   And then visited CRS staff in their Kolkata office---where they were having an electric black out.   This happens in India everywhere all the time--reminded me a bit of home in California!  It was dark and we walked through the staff offices meeting everyone.   They were so happy to meet us.   They had tea and cookies for us,   shaking our hands and smiling broadly with teeth grinning. We got more water for our trip.   We ate a meal at a local Chinese restaurant….it was really good,   even in the darkness and without cool air.   Kolkata is rather close to China---and near Bangladesh---so it was fun to have excellent Chinese.

Couple Sitting in Millenium Park,  Kolkata

Then we went to the train station to get our ride to our next destination---the Darjeeling train to Sealdah.

That is when we met Train Stations.

Kolkata Train Station 

Jam-packed and lively,   stations do their own breathing and smelling.   Train Stations are a world all its own, maybe they are a country within India.   I don't know.   The Kolkata train station had merchants selling veggies,   fruits, tobacco,   papers,   anything and all that you need.   There were children begging at every turn.   In the tracks there were small, clay vessels all broken and cracked—we soon learned these cups hold fruit juices,   purchased nearby,   and then dramatically thrown on the tracks…..I guess a better option than Styrofoam.

The kids were entranced and everyone was determined to get some money from us.   CRS strongly asks that we do not give coins or small monies out—it will simply encourage even more people to come by asking…and in India, where 300 million people make less that 1$ a day,   there is no shortage of the immense poor.   I was not quite used to this type of interaction.   We had had some at the airport earlier in the day.   A group surrounded our car after we loaded up from the plane,   staring at us they insisted on money.   Young children using English words to convince us to give them even one rupee.   At the train station it was more of the same.

In India our group was always the center of attention.   At this point in the trip,   I was not yet “used” to this concept.   Though I never felt used to being stared at so intensely,   after a week I did feel more accustomed to the whole experience.   But at the train station this first time,   the 10 of us stood together and eventually a crowd slowly grew looking at us,   watching our mouths talk and trying to see if any one of these Americans would give out some cash.

We got on the train.   We were on the only AC car, thank goodness.   And we loaded up our stuff.   Our group probably had enough bags for everyone in our car (maybe 40 people)….we did not pack as light as the Indians do.   The train ride took us just 4 hours to Rampurhat in Jhakard state---the location of our next few days of fieldwork.   We arrived at midnight in the village.

July 17.   Midnight.  

We had less than 5 minutes to depart the train.   It was rather interesting to gather us all together, in between the train cars,   place all our bags there…open the side doors and wait,   watching the dark fields slide past until the station was there.   It was the only time while in India that held silence.   No sounds except the wind brushing by and the earth slowly moving,   slowly taking its time to stop beside me.   We jumped off, weighted down with pounds and pounds of bags, and walked through a sleeping world.  Probably 100 people were at this small,   village station.   They were sleeping since there was nowhere else to be—most were merchants just staying put,  next to their goods, until they could begin selling again with the dawning of the day.   We found our Jeeps and drivers and went to Boraphari Operating Partner.

Fr Cristus,   along with Vinod (CRS State Office staff),   hosted us that evening and for the next few days.   Father came to the train station and led us to the parish where we slept that night---it was a 40-minute ride,   4 km away on dusty, rocky roads.  Still silent,  I could finally sense the freshness of countryside there.  There was space,  and land,  and trees.  It was a dramatic new place!  The parish where we stayed was lovely--Enclosed in an adobe wall and quiet.   We were greeted with tea,   fresh mangos and smiles by the nuns and priests of the parish.   We ate simply and got to sleep (under the first of several mosquito netted mat beds) by 2am.   We rose at 6am.

July 17.   That morning.  

After a wonderful,   simple breakfast---boiled eggs,  cooked chick peas,  tea,   more mangoes (yum) we went outside to find the school children of the parish all gathered waiting to send us off on our travels for the day.  

Children Greet us as we Wake Up

They had placed chairs for us to sit up front and once we all got there,   the students launched into a series of happy,   uplifting songs—in Santal the tribal language of that area.   I was overwhelmed (already) with the hospitality of these children.  Their eyes and hands cheering us as their esteemed visitors.  The excitement and happiness in those faces bounced my soul up to the sky.   We each received a Lai and kisses from students.   The drumming and singing filled the early morning air—and when they stopped they immediately turned to us and asked us to sing in return.  Sing!  It was the first time that we had been asked to give back through song and so we mustered up our guts,   the 9 of us,   to sing “This Little Light of Mine”   for the kids.   It didn't sound half bad---but in no way could be compared to the magical music that they shared with us.

We left in our Jeeps for a 2-hour drive to Basmatha---a small tribal village in the Himalayan foothills.   The drive was splendid!   Out of the big city,   we were treated to the sights of India's land….and in Jhakharand which is in a wet eastern area of India,   the landscape was tropical and green.  

At first we passed a dozen or so quarries---each had about 20 workers carrying gravel stone from the crashing machines in the ditch to a huge pile about 50 yards away.   Most of the workers were women---in colourful saris of red, orange, blue and yellow….they held baskets on their heads and gravel was placed in the basket.   Then they carried the rocks to the top of the growing pile.   The wind blew strongly sweeping over the land,   down from the gigantic mountains I could not yet see.

 Quarries on the Road to Basmata

It was gray air,  when the wind would toss up the soil from the quarrie,  but the women were beautiful.   My memory is of their fabrics tussled and tossed around as they elegantly, almost as ballerinas,   hoist the stones up,   on to their head—in 90-degree heat. They walked in a line,   making their way to the pile that they had been creating since morning.   I have many pictures of that experience.

Then the drive brought us to the green tropics of rice patties.   Much of the vegetation is rice in that area.   The patties, water ponds full of green reeds,   are many sizes and need many people to harvest---most of the farmers working that morning were women and children.   They were gathering the baby rice shoots together in bunches and moving them to a larger patty---to be planted so that they can grow bigger and bloom into rice.   I learned a bit about rice.   Until India, I did not realize I had no clue about how rice grows!   And I, someone who loves rice!  And so on this trip,   Neal—one of my traveling companions—who grew up in the Philippines-- told me about rice.  

Women work in the rice fields

Rice begins in small patties where they start as seeds and grow into short stocks of reeds which then must be gathered together and brought to a larger patty,   given more space to grow and blossom.   Workers must stay on their needs in the water and pick rice by hand---first to move the reeds to the larger patties and next to actually pick the rice.   Rice is surrounded by a hard,   uneatable crust---and so the women must take the new rice and place it in the sun.   This happens everywhere.   The rice is spread thin on the side of the road to dry,   its dark brown covering slowly gets warmed then hardened by the sun.   Eventually the women can take the outer shell off,   and inside white rice emerges, ready to go to market for people to buy.  

In India,  the women and children work all day in the heat and the water to plant,  move and harvest rice.  When they work to make the bunches of baby rice (to be moved and re-planted in a larger area as they grow),  they will receive 60 rupies for 100 bunches of rice.  In one day (10 hours),  one person can efficiently complete about 150 bunches, making roughly 90 rupies  OR  2 dollars.  That means each person,  if they can harvest 150 bunches,  will bring home 2$ for a day of work.  If it is an 10 hour day,  they make .20 cents an hour.

The process of making rice is so elaborate.   I cannot imagine who figured out how to do this!   But someone did and most of the women,   the families in this region of India make some sort of livelihood through the harvesting of rice.

July 17.   The Day Continues.

My handwritten notes in my journal that day (written that night when we arrived at where we slept) state “today was the most incredible and exhausting day ever!”   That is all I had to energy to write that day.   And it is so true. This day was full of emotion and fatigue.   I will do my best to capture its essence now.

After driving through the countryside,   getting tutored by Neal on rice cultivation,   we arrived at Basmatha Village.   We were soon to learn that we were the only westerners/Americans that have ever visited this Village.   The village is tiny,   not even having one single “official” bathroom/toilet for the 40 families that live there.   They just use the outdoors.

There homes are neat  huts,  packed down with clay and grasses to form the roof.  It was beautiful to look at, and so different than the huge highrises here in San Francisco.

Brian cuts the ribbon as we enter Basmata

Anyhow,   we were greeted at the entrance to their village street by the entire village.  Brian,   our delegation's CRS staff leader,   cut a special ribbon to welcome us to the community.  It was like a dedication ceremony,  except the dedication was to us,  the visitors from far far away.  

We are Welcomed to Basmata

Most of the villagers were there,   having taken a vital day off from the fields,   and the women,   dressed in their tribe's special colors (green blues and red)   led us in a dance-march up the road to the center of their town.   This center was a simple square between a few buildings.   They had set up a space for us to sit,   the Americans in chairs and the villagers on the ground across from us.   Above our heads were strung fabrics from all of the households---an attempt to make it cooler,   but in this part of India,   in July,   the heat will not subside.   There is no way to cool the heat there.   I would say it was about 105 or hotter then,  at 10am.

We sat in the chairs.   It was a bit awkward as our group would have preferred to just sit on down on the floor with them.   But they had gathered every chair they had for us.  The chairs were an honor for the guests.  Then they started a new song,   to the rhythm of a drum,   and the women who had led us to this spot began the welcoming ritual.

Receiving our cloth from the women of Bastmata

Our welcome included washing our feet,   providing us with gifts of homemade flower leis for our necks and kissing each of us on the cheeks.   It was an amazing gift of hospitality.  No words that I know explain the feeling of being received like that.  Before us they placed a large clay vase—filled with water—and we learned that everywhere in the tribal lands of India people do this. They place a vase with water to signify how full they are with joy to have us in their village as guests.

We shared songs and Father Cristus translated for us.   We asked questions about the women's self-help group and the morning school for the children.  In that village,  they have just recently started sending children to any school at all.  Most children spend all afternoon sheparding their livestock.   It is incredible!   An 8 year old talked about how he watches 4 water buffalo every day,   all afternoon.   After our conversations we had tea,   then the women came forward and presented us each with special,   handwoven cloth—in their tribes colors.   They were created,   made by hand,   by the women of the village.   It was so touching—I was deeply moved,   many of us were in tears,   from the astonishing generosity of this community.  

The palatable touch of God was clear in all that the people of Basmata shared with us—in their eyes, smiles and kisses. Not anything that I will ever forget.

We were needing to leave---and it was unbearably hot—even under the scarves that had been placed above our seats to block the sun.   We had failed to do something very important---we did not bring nearly enough water with us that day.   As our group walked back down the road to our Jeeps,   Dawn and I asked to use the toilet and two nuns took us aside to their home/hut.   They let us know that there is no toilet,  except the great outdoors,   in the village—and we marveled at a village that does not have any toilet anywhere.   Incredible.

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All the ritual and welcoming filled my heart.   One major lesson I have learned from this trip to India is the gift of being the receiver. I learned to embrace receiving,   open my heart and accept hospitality—unconditionally and without regret or guilt.   I learned how to watch and listen and truly smile as people you do not know welcome you as family.   How to receive their joy and their gifts,   and not feel in any way undeserving.  

This trip was an absolute gift to me. Just the trip in itself,   being selected,   was an immense gift to me.   I am no worthy than anyone else to have had this opportunity and so I gratefully receive the whole trip as I gratefully received the washing of my feet and lei and the love from the woman at Basmatha.

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More July 17.

We left feeling immense love for the people of Basmatha.  I could have stayed all day,  but we then began another,   one-hour trek to St Rita's Convent.

On The Road

At St Rita's we were given lunch by the sisters.   At this point we were already running very behind in our schedule (though I did not really now how late we were at the time)---everything was taking a long time.   The drive from place to place was long---as we were on dirt roads in remote villages.   We ate an incredible meal that day, prepared by the nuns in their home—so it was cooler and more comfortable.   After lunch we visited with all the students at an assembly….we walked in and they clapped and cheered.   The girls played music and sang songs, again   giving us special leis and this time washing our hands.  

After the welcome,   we all discussed HIV/Aids education—since this topic is part of a special program this school is doing.   St Rita's has received funding to train a group of student health educators—who learn about HIV/Aids and how to protect against it, or take care of yourself if you have the disease.   These girls then train other students…..and all the students eventually go back to their villages and inform/teach their villages.   Most students at St Rita's board at the school---since the roads are so harsh it is difficult to commute daily to a school like that.   So the girls go home every so often and when they do go home, they train the adults in health education.

We spent about 2 hours at St Rita's,   between lunch and the discussion.   Then we left in our Jeeps to go to another site called Asanbani.   This parish has done remarkable work with a woman's literacy group---the women gather together to discuss important health and financial issues.   They discuss well-baby care and immunizations and they work on ways to raise money through small projects etc.   It is an empowerment group since women are pushed to the margins of society in India.  The men are okay with the women gathering to discuss health and finances,  but this group in Asabani has ventured on to a new,  more revolutionary project.  This group decided they wanted to read…and so they embarked on learning Hindi in just 4 months time!   And through their passion they are succeeding!

The women were waiting for us…as we were still running very late from St Rita's.   When we arrived they clapped and danced,   slowly leading us up across the square and into their large meeting space.  

Women of Asabani welcome us and lead us to our meeting room

We were all walking and chanting and singing as we moved into the meeting space.   It was really hot by this time,  REALLY HOT,  and I felt like I would pass out in the courtyard but then we made iit to the room.  

Asabani

In the large room,   we were introduced and the women shared their stories---a few women stood up and read some Hindi,   with pride and happiness.   They told us that they want their children to read,   and to write and to be educated.   One day they decided that if their children were to do this,   that they would need to be role models for them.   They decided it was important to learn this skill too!    So these women,   most in their late 20's,   studied and learned to read. I was absolutely inspired.

  Reading Hindi for the first time

After our time there,   we left to go visit a Malaria Village….this was a village maybe 20 minutes away that has had amazing success in mosquito abatement and malaria reduction.   At this point I was ready to fall down with fatigue and absolutely exhaustion.   I felt dizzy and spacey.   I had drunk too little water and we had been introduced to too many people,   too many extraordinary people, sights, smells.   It was so hard to go and visit this particular village,   I must admit….but I did.   Again we were late and they were patiently waiting….the village had a stick/bamboo open hut set up in the center of town for us all to sit in and talk.   Usually at these meetings,   all of us Americans got chairs while the people we visited were on the floor asking us questions.   It felt awkward to be up like that from them…but it was their way,   Fr Cristus said,   to honor us.

We are graciously welcomed!

We discussed malaria and the work they are doing to make sure every family has a net,   and no standing water….and that they need to watch what is happening in the village.   They have reduced the disease incredibly in just 6 months of being watchful and careful.

Katherine and Jenny sit with village children 

We moved on….and went back to the community we had visited just before—the woman's literacy group.   They had made some tea for us and we were thrilled to have cookies and snacks.   On my way in,   Katherine and I decided to learn to play hopscotch with the girls (don't know where this burst of energy came,  but it was delightful!)….which was to use a large square that has 9 smaller squares in it…sort of looks like a tic tac toe game board…they threw stones and hopped around and laughed at us for being so bad at the game!

Playing with the kids was the best part of the day….that is for certain.   It was a long day and I wished that we had had more one-on-one time with the students….that continues to be my one suggestion of the trip….we were up there in the front of groups often,   but not as closely interacting with kids and adults,   well as much as I would have liked.

After tea we got in the jeeps to head to Dumka,   where Fr Cristus is a priest.   Well,   that trip took almost 3 hours….on a small,   dusty road in which ALL the Hindi pilgrim busses were traveling.   It was by far the most difficult traveling moment of the trip.   There was no AC and so we had all the windows open….and we faced bus after bus of pilgrims….as well as bikes and moped,   everyone   speeding along, honking loudly,   stirring up dark-deep Indian dust.  

We made it finally to Dumka—maybe 9pm or so…and had a meal at the rectory/training center where Fr Cristus lives.   A great meal and with cold soda and water---but I was so tired and had a horrendous headache!    As the finale of our long long day,   we gathered and we discussed the day—everyone was really tired and not feeling too perky.   We had prayer….we mentioned it was a really hard day with too much packed into it.   But it was still so amazing!   I had to get to sleep and so I did---literally passing out in my room under my mosquito net. By then I was used to not having a sheet or blanket over me.   I just feel into a deep sleep.    Michaela ended up doing some laundry for all of us—an amazing endeavor!

Sunday,   July 18 2004.

We woke up and I was refreshed.   That night, having passed out around 10pm, I had actually had about 9 hours of sleep….the first long normal amount of sleep that I had had in India.  

Sleep was so wonderful!

We ate a lovely breakfast—more yummy mangoes and small, squat bananas that were so sweet.   Then we drove to the cathedral.

Dumka is about 3 million strong—that is considered a city, but not a huge city or anything…it is middle to small sized for India.   The streets were tiny and all dirt…lots of people were out and about at 10am on a Sunday---cows,   bikes,   kids and people walking in the dust past trash heap after heap…the city was booming yet had such a small town feel.   I am still amazed at how places that have that many people can and do feel like villages!

We arrived and got chairs at the back of the church.   This cathedral was very simple and had no pews whatsoever.   It was just one big room with an altar on one end.   It was almost shaped in a big circle or square—it was pretty round rather than long.   There were simple paintings on the walls and it had about 30 fans on the ceiling that were moving frantically to keep the air going.   The women were on the right and the men on the left.   They were sitting on the floor….and that is how the whole service was….the people were on the floor or standing.   Women on one side, men on others.   Everyone took their shoes off before coming into the church, leaving their shoes at the entrance of the church outside.

The service was led by the Bishop of Dumka diocese…and it included the installation of a new priest into a village.   So it was a rather long mass.   We could follow it a bit---it was in Sandhal not Hindi so even Vinod was guessing at what was going on.

I find it absolutely amazing that I can be at church in town across the world, tens of thousand miles from my home,   and have an innate, intimate sense of what is going on—an understanding of the words being said.   While sitting there in the heat and in the prayer I thought of all the places I have gone to mass—all the countries and all the languages: Russia,   South Africa,   Mexico,   Canada,   England,   Scotland,   Italy,   Spain,   Quebec…..in so many languages and places and in all those places the mass feels comfortable,   like being home.   So amazing.

I remember when we knelt for the consecration….the entire congregation knelt too—but just right there in their places on the marble floor.   Many of the women were holding babies but still knelt easily and firmly.   One woman in front of me was gorgeous.   She wore a green sari and it was perfectly draped along her back and shoulders…and then down under her knees…and over her calves and on to her bare feet.   The sari covered just part of the bottom of her feet….just so I could see her toes which had several rings.   Her feet were tiny, as I remember,   and I recall that she had a baby in her arms….draped over her left side.   The baby was probably about 8 months or so and it was wearing bright orange and was looking confusingly at my companions and me. We always got stares.   The mother was praying so intently and was so still in her prayer.   It touched me deeply.

All the women of Dumka were wearing their Sunday best.   The colors in that church that morning were vibrant, clear and glorious.   There was not a single person matching another person,   all the women were bright in their outfits!   I never saw a dull or dark sari or fabric on a woman in India.   Everything was colorful,   bright and happy!

  We pose with the Bishop of Dumka District

After mass we went across the courtyard to the school next door.   A girl's boarding school---and it was the most lively and happy school I have ever experienced.   These nuns were delightful and were funny-full of life and happiness.   St Rita's was a nice place,   but I could tell those nuns were very serious and strict.   At St Teresa's in Dumka---the girls had spunk as did the sisters!

We had a snack of tea and some bread. Then we visited the girls and we talked about education---and about boarding schools and what it is all about and how they like it.   They were fun!   I remember us asking them if they had questions for us---and they asked us where we were on September 11 th and what we thought about it, were we scared?   It was insightful and honest. Such a great conversation!!

If I were to take students somewhere in India I would want to go to this school in Dumka. I think the students would be receptive and the sisters so fun,   welcoming.

After our conversations we went back to the rectory for lunch…and then we got the train from Dumka back to Kolkata.  

Train To Kolkata

Our drivers throughout our visit in Dumka

In Kolkata we got the training center where we stayed the night.   Not my favorite place we stayed for it was truly in the heart of Kolkata,  but it was a hospitable place where the people welcomed us to their simple space.   In my room that night,   I saw another rat in my bathroom/bathing place and proceeded to ask Tinnah if I could bunk with her in her room.

My Kolkata toilet and shower room

We would bathe using the bucket and a small cup (on the toilet).

This was a typical bathing/toilet room.

I put up our mosquito nets and we slept….the hottest sleeping night ever!  I think it was 100 plus all evening.  Kolkata was extremely wet and hot,   compared to everywhere else we stayed.   I will remember that training space,   the heat and how it hung on my skin and how it felt a little dangerous and unhealthy at that site.   And I will remember how blest I continue to be--and that experiencing a night like that means that I have the opportunity to walk in another's shoes.

Scenes of Kolkata

Monday,   July 19, 2004

This day was our day with the Missionaries of Charity!

We rose and had a simple breakfast—I ate little if anything as I recall.   And we went to the Missionaries of Charity Mother House—the home where Mother Teresa started the order,   and where she had lived.

We removed our shoes and were welcomed by Sister Petra and Sister Lynn….both leaders of the order.   We were ushered into their simple, small chapel where Mother Teresa lies in her tomb.   It was right there---white-grey marble, simple and unimposing. There was a simple tombstone and flower leis,   candles on the tomb.   The group of us stayed in that room for some time, reflecting and praying.   It was the most dear moment,   quiet and incredible of our journey.  

To go where Mother Teresa worked,   to visit her grave and give respect---I do not think I ever dreamed I could do that.    Meeting people who had met and volunteered with Mother Teresa before—but to think that I could do that!   Well,   I am still amazed that I have had that opportunity.

After the time in the chapel we went across to the home for orphans.  

The sisters take care of hundreds of babies that are unwanted---from 1-day-old infants until 1 year or so toddlers.   They work to get homes for these babies and really do not have much trouble doing so because their work is so well known and respected.   Most parents are Indian—and they adapt the babies relatively early.   The sisters do not convert or baptize Hindi babies—they name the children and make sure to give a name that respects their ethnicity and religion. Sometimes the sisters do receive children that are Christian—then they get a Christian name and are baptized.   But for the most part the nuns respect and follow the traditions of the people who will most .likely adopt the children.

Many of the babies have the kohl on their forehead (a dot)   and the kohl under their eyes.   This was true everywhere we went.   It is believed that the dot protects the child from harm,   bad spirits.   And the kohl under-eyeliner helps to care for the eyes and is good for eyes.   It is an interesting and unique practice.

We visited the smallest babies first.   Then the 8 month olds that could stand and smile and giggle.

  Mike and Baby

I remember there was one girl baby who was crying.   She was not happy and I rubbed her back but she did not stop so I picked her up and immediately she stopped crying.   She held on so tight to me….putting her little head on my left shoulder and holding on so strongly.   She looked around and smiled and was so happy.  

Neal and Katherine with infants at the Orphanage

All of us took turns with kids and talking and smiling.   When it came time to leave,   I had to actually pry the little girl from me…she did not want me to put her down. She did not want to be without touch and holding and love. It was incredible—I don't know if I have ever had that powerful of a need from a baby .to want to be held and who cried so much after being placed back into her crib.

Vinod and Katherine with week-old infants

We went and saw some of the older kids as they were having lunch.   One kid was introduced to us---he had been working with his father in the fields and was harvesting with a machine that caught his clothes and pulled his arm into the machine.   He tried to get his arm out by putting his other hand in to try to pull at it but his other arm was caught….he lost both arms at 5 years old and is now at the orphanage because his family cannot afford him---since he cannot work.   What a story,  full of sadness but also joy because in the eyes of the nuns there I could see that he was unconditionally loved.

Across the way,   we visited the handicapped rooms of the orphan program.   This room had about 50 kids, and a few adults (one who is 37 years and has lived there for all her life!).   There were a bunch of western volunteers in this room.   It was a more spacious place and the handicapped kids were older,   obviously there because having a child with more needs is very difficult for families in India.   Families need kids that can work not that need attention and care at every turn.

The volunteers were feeding the kids and there was much laughter and joy in that room.   It was wonderful to feel the warmth of the westerners who so clearly came to Kolkata to specifically volunteer and help those children.

Next we went to Sasha,   across town,   to learn about free trade programs and entrepreneur programs throughout the country. We spent some amazing time there—I learned Sasha actually sells to Global Exchange---and we purchased many gifts at the store.  After Sasha,   we got on an airplane ride back to Delhi---immediately departing the plane we transferred to a train.   In Delhi we met Shivakamy—who was to be our new guide….we left Vinod in Kolkata—a heartfelt goodbye to him as he was a hysterical,   loving and fun guide.   Shiva would be taking us on the train to Uttar Pradesh---the most dense and poorest state in India.

At the station we hired three men to carry our bags—and thank goodness for it was a long walk.  

I cannot believe that they were able to place my bag on their head—and then add a few more bags—then carry a few more in their hands!   It was incredible.

We sat and waited for our delayed train by singing Indigo Girls and trying to figure out what goes into the clay jars that are on the train tracks.  

Michaela, Jenny and Kathering wait for the train!

One kid came by while I was putting purell on my hands…and I asked him if he wanted some and he nodded.   He placed the purell on his hands and I think he thought it was absolutely wierd and maybe even gross!  Then I decided to give him an unopened Cliff Bar as a snack---I laughed because that was all I had and I am sure he probably had never tasted anything like that before,   but it was worth a try.   The people there were mesmerized by this group of people—of Americans—waiting on the platform.

Shiva brought us McDonalds,  our first and only totally USA meal---veggie burgers and fries—which we ate.

We left on a 9pm train out of the Delhi Station.

We gathered that night on the train for some down time,   reflection and prayer.   We were to arrive at our destination around 4am and be taken to our hotels.   We slept on the train—three to a wall.   The trains are not as nice as I remember Russian trains—but after a time or two you get used to the remedial facility of it all and it is fun.   We slept very well since it was air-conditioned---which was better than the few nights before that were in places without AC.

Tuesday,   July 20,   2004

We woke early,   4am,   and waited to arrive.   We were delayed,   but it was quiet in the countryside and peaceful to be able to see stars all over the sky.  India is very dusty and smoggy,  so to have clear skies was a treat (even if it was 4am).  The station approached and we did our usual hop out of the cars and get our entire luggage down to the platform in 2 minutes.  We were welcomed by our drivers who were younger,   teens,   this time.   And off to Fafoon we went!

Our hotels were in Fafoon.   The guys split up from us and went in their own hotel.   Ladies went to their hotel.   The town is small—probably hundred thousand or so---and they did not have one hotel to fit all 9 of us.   Pretty interesting.   The AC was broken in most rooms at our hotel,   so we had to double up which is almost always even better for me.   In places like this,   we are the only women staying in the hotel—women do not travel about very much in India.   So I felt safer to have a roommate.   Dawn was mine—and we proceeded to get cozy for our two hours of Rest-Shower-Snack-   before leaving at 8am for our day.

We all gathered at 7:45am for our visits.   Katherine had slept late, and got down to us just on time.   She realized she needed her water bottle and went back upstairs for her water bottle.   The jeeps arrived,   and we found out that Mike was staying home sick (the only team member to have to do that on the entire trip).   We were so preoccupied with Neal informing us about Mike,   that we lost track of Katherine.

We headed out to Maulhausi on the dirt roads of Fafoon---only 7 Km away.   It took about 1 hour and 15 minutes to get to our hosts' home.   We crawled through the city of Fafoon—on a dirt and gravel road,   packed with people,   livestock and crowds.   We waited to cross the train tracks and then were out in the countryside—still on a road hardly worthy of driving on.   The landscape was much more dry, dessert like.   There were fewer cars on the road with us as we were not in an area that had much pilgrimage traffic.

It was so bouncy and dusty!    We swayed back and forth,   like riding a horse!

Rohit and Sheema are brother and sister,   descendants of the local Raj.   They live most of the time in Lucknow (the capitol of Uttar Pradesh),   but still have their family home out in the village..     They run a foundation which extends far into this particular region of Uttar Pradesh and which provides support to the local people.   UP is the most dense and populated of all the states—some 300 million people I believe-a full third of the country!  The foundation that they operate provides food assistance—in partnership with CRS—to schools and women's programs in the region.  Mothers and schools participate in the development programs and,  as participants,  they receive some food items that are helpful to their survivial..   The foundation also provides training to teachers on specific teaching strategies—how to manage classroom time etc.   As well,   they work with teens to do “mobilizations”   in the villages—these are street theatre performances that discuss important social issues through the framework of acting and lessons.

During the next few days,  we visited all these types of programs and witnessed the work of CRS in the small villages of Uttar Pradesh (UP).

We arrived at the home of Rohit and Sheema.   And as we emerged I remember hearing Michaela ask me, where is Katherine?   We looked and realized that in the hubbub of getting in our Jeeps at the hotel—and realizing Mike was so sick he could not come with us—we had left Katherine!   For the last hour or so she was back at our hotel all alone!   Shiva proceeded to contact the hotel—we learned Katherine was fine and so we sent a car back to get her.  Talk about feeling guilty!

We had the best breakfast we had yet had---and ate it heartily, but also feeling horribly that we left Katherine behind!   She was a trooper—probably the best person to be left behind.   I would have been rather mad!   But Katherine laughed—she said she felt badly too because she had been late anyhow,   and that it was her job to be ready.   Growing up—she is the oldest of 11 kids—you got to be ready to go.   You will be left if you are not ready to go!   So she just figured it was what happens.

What an amazing lady.

The days in Uttar Pradesh actually turned into a rhythm and were much more relaxing and helpful in many ways.   But also not as planned and organized for us.   We typically divided up into groups of two or three—and went to visit 2-3 schools in the morning,   returned to the home for lunch,   went back out into the communities to do a few more visits.  At about 4pm each day, we would come together for a street theatre performance,   then dinner together and the house.

This is the basic schedule for the two days.

The first day was amazing.   We went to a Baswadi first—I was with Tinnah and Jim, and eventually Katherine.  

The Baswadi was precious---outside on the porch of the teacher's home, a gorgeous woman,   our age,   who was so patient and kind with her students.   We sat and listened and watched,   entranced by her work to teach these kids the basic Hindi language---in the heat of the day.   We walked around this particular village and saw a cluster school and another group of tiny kids who were waiting for us.   The heat was strong,   not as humid,   but dry which meant we needed to drink more water than ever.   The people of the villages were amazed at us and came to wherever we were---watching and crowding and staring at us,   intently.

We were hosted in my group by Rohit—and his staff.     The whole Raj vibe is interesting.   Rohit was definitely known by the villagers as someone important  in town.  Rohit's family had ruled this area for generations, until the Raj system was disbanded by India after independence.   But there is still that reference and deference to him and his family.  

Rohit and Sheema also have house help—or servants or cooks---not sure what to call them. They would cook and serve us during our stay.   I guessed that the help was a family that went back for generations—as the servant family to the Raj family. And I was right.   Brian asked Sheema about the awesome cook and she said “oh,   they have been with my family for generations.”   So different!  The relationship between castes is one I am still pondering.  In many ways,  it makes so much sense to have people work for you at your home,  make meals,  take care of the property.  But is it also so different than what I am used to back at home.

We went on this day to a woman's group---one of my favorite visits.   The women were participating in a health education class—learning about well baby feeding and immunizations. There was one older woman leading the group in a discussion about health care of infants.   They listened intently.   We arrived and sort of stood outside of the patio in the village court—and watched.   Slowly the men started looking at us and people gathered.   The ladies kept learning and eventually got to a place to stop and invite us into the porch.

We were invited to sit on the ground with them---no chairs for us to be all higher which we were hating.   We sat on the ground,   without shoes,   and just talked with the women.   At one point we started singing together,   and drumming again.   By this time we realized that “We Shall Overcome”   was a great song to sing since they have the equivalent in Hindi.   We sang and smiled.   We dealt with the many flies----so many everywhere!   And just spent time with them.   It was a wonderful morning,   etched into my memory.

Lunch was nice and then in the afternoon we visited a few more schools.   At 4pm we all gathered in the Farmer's Market of Maulhausi to see a street theatre mobilization.   A group of boys came together and performed. It was amazing!   Another favorite!  

The cast of the mobilization in Malhausi

They did a few scenes—mostly on how families must send their daughters to school because it is important to be knowledgeable….and it strengthens the family!   The boys took on female and male characters---by using a scarf to help them.

We were surrounded in the marketplace during this performance.   People everywhere—in fact the staff had to go about and push people back and away from the center,   from crowding us so much.   It was wild!  It was like having our own body guards---and at first I did not like it but then realized it was important as more and more people crowded in to see the boys perform,   but also see us—the white,   soft Americans.

We went back for dinner,   but stopped on the way at the warehouses where the CRS food—USA food was stored.   They have huge warehouses for the bulgur wheat and oil….gigantic!   As we learned and saw the food,   Tinnah and I got to speak with a group of young boys working so hard in the rice field.   We took some photos of them---and then they came to see the digital images.   They were so cute.

I am amazed at the work kids do.   I know this is true so many places ---but these kids work their butts off.   Rice harvesting is backbreaking…and the kids do it after school in the heat of the day.   So amazing!

Dinner was a BBQ Indian style---we waited to have dinner and as we waited Katherine and I decided to do some stretches and yoga out on the lawn.   Neal joined us.   We were out there at dust doing some yoga stretches—in India.   We had a few observers—on roofs nearby wondering what we were doing.   I did not see much yoga or ashrams or spiritual stuff in India…I know it is there.   It felt so fantastic to have some peaceful exercise time.     We were sweating thought…as always by the time we were 5 minutes into the yoga!

We stayed at Fafoon again—but arose on July 21 packed and ready for our day.  

July 21,  2004 

We went back to Rohit and Sheema's----we had breakfast, divided up and visited some of the bridge schools in the morning.   These schools were created to bring students up to speed in school—so they can join the “regular, on-going school.”   Most of the kids at bridge schools have worked in the field most of the time,   and they just began to have any schooling—so the kids are older and are learning the basics of literacy,

After lunch we drive 100K to Hardoi---it took 4 hours and it was a fun trip actually.   Michaela,   Dawn and I sat in the Jeep together and we laughed a lot as we listed to Hindi music played loud and strong.   Our driver was a young guy—and we had to deal with his constant music….and habit of chewing tobacco.   The memory of quickly riding along the road,   broken and dusty—in the heat of summer with blaring Hindi music playing on and on….will not leave me very quickly.   I loved some of the tunes---as we were privileged to hear the same tape over again a few times.   At points we got into swaying and dancing a bit in the backseat.   I even started to sing along! It was hysterical.

We stayed at a shady hotel in Hardoi.   I made Dawn stay with me---there was odd stuff going on and not much AC to keep us cool.  And men walking the halls all night.  Dinner was iffy too---the food so-so in the hotel restaurant. I ate sparingly as I was tired and a bit edgy about another semi-safe place to stay.   The rest of the crew ate well—and most had a little tourista the next day—not me!

The hotel was in a compound off the road.   Hardoi was nice looking even though it felt a bit uneasy.   With a pond near our hotel,   there was almost a view.   But our hotel compound had guards with huge rifles and semi-automatic guns…..to protect us I guess.   We were told that after dark the city was not safe to be.   I saw a Kite flying in the sky,   two kites actually.   And I was intrigued---since I had just read the Kite Runner—it reminded me of that story and made me realize that I was just kilometers from Afghanistan.

July 22,   2004

The next day we had only the morning to visit sites.   Rohit took us off into the world---we went first to a large school that had classes from Baswadi to grade 10.  

The little kids were in the fields learning English

Neal joined in by playing games with the kids.   They were so cute!

We went inside the building where many classes were in rooms—but the oldest kids were studying in classes in the courtyard.   We decided to talk to the oldest kids—grade 10 I think.   We asked them questions and got them to ask us questions too.   This was the first interaction with teens in awhile and I was excited by that.

I was intrigued by the fact that these students were very shy.   They did not have many questions for us and it was hard to get any talking to happen.   At one point Dawn started teaching them some fun English phrases.   It just took them some time to warm up to us.

We left and went off to another village.  We visited a village school—then we were told we had to go see a mobilization.

This mobilization was wonderful---my favorite by far.   And though it made us super late---it was something I am glad I got to do.   The group was mostly girls….and they performed in a small,   quaint village.   One of the most beautiful villages I had seen on our trip.   The houses were adobe---the streets dusty but clean…not hardly any trash around.   The people were working in the fields—so those men and women who were the wealthiest of the village watched the show—the people who did not need to work in the fields.   We sat and waited for a while on handmade cots…and just watched the town awake to us being there. The girls walked the town,   calling the villagers to them.   Then  they performed---this time they took on the male and female parts.  

These girls were amazing!  

They did a similar story about the value and importance of girls being educated.   There were two girls who were the leads….who I just thought were amazing.   They wore yellow-gold clothes and used bright burgundy scarves.

We had to leave the performance early and the whole village stopped to say goodbye.   I wish I could have been there longer.   I liked that particular village,  its spirit and its people.

We got back to the Hardoi hotel and left immediately for Lucknow.   It was another 3-hour trip over bumpy roads,   with Hindi music blaring!

Lucknow was gorgeous—though we were there for a few short hours.   I have decided I would like to see that city again.   The buildings were gorgeous---it is a city that is very much Hindi and Muslim.   There are Mosques—and temples—and the Muslim influence is strong.   The streets were clean…there were tons of cows and ONE BEAR ON A LEASH!   We drove into the city and went immediately to Shiva's favorite store.    We found lovely hand embroidered clothing.

After shopping we had to race to the airport.   Our three Jeeps got separated and lost.   I thought we were going to miss our plane!   We got to the airport with 5 minutes to spare and rushed inside,   begging Indian Airlines to take us….by this time we were experts on the whole process of check-in,   baggage stuff so we did the entire process with little room to spare.   I learned that one good thing about walking onto the tarmac to get on a plane…is that you are right there and can watch the workers load your bags on the plane.   As we go on to the plane,   there were our bags going into the airplane…..so we were not worried in the least that our bags would be missed.   We had a 45-minute flight….and the attendants managed to feed us drinks and a meal before descending into Delhi.

We were in Delhi that night….back at Hotel Vikram.   I was pleased since that hotel felt like home—it was clean and had a shower…well a bath…and a restaurant with reliable food.   We got back to the hotel all on our own—no host welcoming us this time.   And we ate at the hotel.   We all went to sleep early that day.

Friday,   July 23

Our last day in India---this day was spent reflecting in the morning at a local NGO.   We talked as a group and reflected on the schedule and the experience.   We mapped out next steps for our work back at our respective schools.   After the morning time, we went across the way to the Archdiocese of Delhi and had mass---an auxiliary bishop of Delhi said mass for us in a tiny chapel—that was hot and stuffy.  

At the Archbishop's gardens

 We had lunch. Then went to CRS offices to debrief them on our experiences.  

CRS:  India Staff

Lastly we went to Delhi Hardt. Delhi Hardt is like a Venice Beach but in Delhi—I did do some shopping and spent about $60.   It was hard cause it was all about bargaining and bartering and at that point I was just fine with buying and I was looking for certain things which were not there.   That is okay,   my trip was not for shopping but to experience solidarity with those I met.

That evening we left for the airport.  

We got to the airport in Delhi at 11pm,   for our 2am flight….and we proceeded to wait in 6 lines…to get on the plane.   I thought I was going to go stir crazy!   It was hysterical. I had hoped that I had had my last sweating fury earlier in the day and that I would not sweat again before the plane….but we were not that lucky.   We were there in the airport, standing in line after line,   and I was sweating sweating sweating.

We waited in a line to simply enter the terminal.   Then a line to place our bags in the “checked bag security machine”   and then a line to check in those bags on to the plane and get our seats.   Then a line for our personal security and handbags check-at which time we were once again frisked.   Then we had to go through passport security.   Then we had to wait for the bus to take us to the airplane gate.   Then we had to walk to the gate and show our boarding pass to get on the plane.  

Luckily Michaela and I had a 4-seat row to ourselves….so I stretched out and slept.   We arrived in London Heathrow at 7am…and were able to take an amazing picture of the Delhi Blues Cricket Team who were in England for a tournament.

Then  we all went our separate ways.   I had a 5-hour layover which was okay---I walked around,   got some good tea goodies for my family.  I sat and watched people and I reflected on how much I love to travel.

I kept reflecting on how blest I was---this trip was a gift that continues to amaze me,  even as I write my reflections and gather my photos.

Then I got home…….and India seems both close to me,   and yet so far away.

Here are some photos of the beautiful people we met in India

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