AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH THIS PLACE IS AMAZING.
Gonna paraphrase from my journal entries again to start.
First off, after my blog post, I prayed this: "I did not like not moving today. Please throw me in tomorrow."
Oh goodness. Why do I pray these things...
Feel free to laugh at me for such a ridiculously exhaustion-inducing prayer.
Ten minutes later, I walked downstairs (from the roof), and met Amy. That's a link to her blog. Click it. She's AMAZING. 40 years old, six feet tall, been traveling for two years. Been EVERYWHERE. I had actually gotten in contact with her through her blog before I came here. I swiped her packing list, messaged her, and she gave me advice and what not. I talked with her for a loooong time two nights ago - and the next morning, woke up at 5:15 to go with her to mass at the Mother House. WOW. Literally, the mass that Mother Teresa went to when she was here. Saw Mother Teresa's tomb. Didn't go near it. Holy sight for some, creepy decomposing body in a box for others. Both for me. You know how I am with death.
Anyway, breakfast (chai, white bread, banana - remember that time I got addicted to chai at home, and now it's all they drink here? :-p) at the Mother House after mass, gave my email address to the priest, he will send me forwarded things he sends everyone. Then, a bus, an auto-rickshaw, and Daya Dan.
Daya Dan. Taking my journal entry. ... = skipping some writing. [clarification edits]
"1316 - Sunday 14 December 2008 (Daya Dan) - I'm lying on a pad [mattress] in the Daya Dan volunteer sleeproom. Wearing scrub pants, pink tank, white shirt bought from a booth [outside the market] with green stitching. Black bandanna. Black flip-flops. I fit. ... the scrubs are perfect. ... today has been exquisite. Went to bed @ 1ooish, ... woke up @ 500, went to mass, breakfast w/all the volunteers...they're all lovely. Amy and I rode the bus (5 rupees) to an autorickshaw to Daya Dan. Saw a dead man lying in the street. Weird. ... Walked into Daya Dan...Christmas music and 25 autistic, fetal-alcohol syndrome, wasting-away disease, blind AND autistic, "autistic" [many boys are clearly incorrectly diagnosed], epileptic, [cerebral palsy] boys, between 5-15 years old, running around an open room. Hitting. Drooling. Climbing. Laying on the floor. Amy introduced me to everyone ... for about ten minutes, I was sensory overloaded like whoa. Didn't feel like holding drool-covered hands. But [the constant call of] "auntie, auntie" got to me. I danced, walked around with, talked with nearly all of them [you know how I am with desperately trying to get every kid included - it was difficult, but possible]. One boy, Joy, maybe 7 or 8 [he's actually 5], was sitting against a wall rocking. Looking uncomfortable. I mean clearly, if you're a tiny autistic boy in a room full of movement and noise, you're gonna rock a little. Or a lot. I was instantly drawn to him...but a bunch of other, more energetic kids grabbed me away. I sat with Joy a few times - he didn't respond or literally pushed me away. We practiced songs, did children's mass - I helped a boy up the staris, came down and changed clothes and ate lunch. I fed Siban. Tiny, 3 maybe, NO muscle control. Took maybe and hour and a half. He could chew by himself, but occasionally (note: often) needed reminders and I had to hold his head up. I figured out, after he fell asleep while I was feeding him, that squeezing his foot wakes him up. Hehe. He's beautiful. Then I cleaned his face (mess panda) and I put him to bed. I may or may not have sang Sufjan to him. ...:-) "like a father to impress / like a mother's mourning dress / if you ever make a mess / i'll do anything for you" etc. and To Be Alone With You [i know those are about Jesus, and clearly I'm not even close to being Jesus - but they're pretty, and I like them] - gosh, he's adorable. Then I talked with Mongol a little. He's 15, really smart, but his body is disintegrating. ARGH! For lunch -rice (w/rocks :-)), yellow dahl, street samosas. Fanta. Water. W/Amy. Happy panda. :-) :-) :-). ... Okay, nearly naptime. The volunteers just ran in. And layed down. I love this. I love these people. I love this work. I love these children. I love this place. ... This. Is. Beautiful."
After the 15-minute nap, I was woken up by the noise from downstairs. The kids had woken up, Ankur had had a 5-minute grand mal seizure, and we were trying to dress the kids for their performance at the church. "Keeping an eye on AND dressing 25 mentally disabled kids = craziness. They were ALL OVER." It was fun, but RIDICULOUS. They kept running around and screeching. And Ankur was trying to recover, and the sisters wanted quiet for him. KLjdfjasiofdj! But wonderful. "Prince and I get along really well. He's the 18-year-old who is supposedly really violence." We talked for about an hour while the kids were getting ready. Well, "talked." He uses his own invented sign language. He needed the attention, because he hits people (hard) if there isn't someone with him. "And Rohib...man. He's awesome. Cerebral palsy ... but obviously really intelligent." This boy's eyes say it all - his brain functions normally. He's probably smarter than the average 15-year-old. But his body is contorted and doesn't move. He lies on the floor all day. He cannot speak. But I think he understands - I sit with him, and we talk. Him with his eyes, me with words, facial expression, and touch. He's wonderful.
The show at the cathedral - WOW. Maybe 30 church groups came to sing Christmas carols. In a place smack dab in the middle of the 10/40 window - wow. Four hours long. Everything in India moves slower and takes more time - I fit. :-) Groups sang, accomanied by synthesizers. So many repetitions of songs. It was craziness. Picture a bunch of Indian guys and girls, college-age, singing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, with a synthesized techno beat, in a beautiful, ornate cathedral. FOR FOUR HOURS. I mean, there were some "traditional" performances. But not really. <3.
The kids STOLE THE SHOW. They had drums, and sang, and were AWESOME. They're so talented! Everyone stood up and cheered. It was fantastic. Like a movie scene, but so much better. :-)
Got back to Daya Dan around eight. Back to Modern Lodge by 8:30, via walking and the subway. 15.5 hour day - not bad considering I prayed to be "thrown in." I was exhausted when I got back. Didn't work today. Felt reasonable. Instead, I went to the market with Amy. Bought five salwaar kameez sets. They're gorgeous. I've decided to completely ditch Western clothes while I'm here. Just Salwaar. I feel awkward in Western clothes. They're too tight. Also, I have an Indian accent when talking with Indians. Helps them understand me, and I feel better about speaking English. I've learned a bunch of Bangla - everyone looks so tickled when I speak it. I can see their faces soften. :-) And I'm only eating Indian food, except the occasional granola bar. And I'm taking cold showers, and bathrooming in a hole-in-the-floor toilet. I'm so happy. :-) :-) :-)
The market today was amazing. I cannot say enough about it. It felt like the floating market from Neverwhere. Stall after stall after stall - had to say nehchehheeay a gazillion times. It means "do not need." Beggars all over. Some more legitimate than others. Kalim, our market-helping man, is such a sweetie. I bought embroidery floss (84 rupees for a bunch - maybe 15 colours?) and we made a bracelet together. :-) Martin, my tailor, is amazing. We sat in the shop for two, three, hours. He's making my salwaar by tomorrow, and dropping them off at the hostel for me. They're beautiful. I cannot explain the massive amounts of colour in that shop. Colours, patterns, material that's nearly impossible to find in America. Gorgeous. Why do we not wear these colours? Head to toe turquoise, orange, bright pink. It's beautiful. I bought lavender lace, olive green, turquoise, and burgundy salwaars. And a fancy one with a bunch of colours. I'm so excited. While choosing materials, the counter was piled three feet high with cloth - that's normal. It's supposed to take hours. I've found my shopping home. :-) Martin measured me there. Making my salwaars especially for me. Amy and I bartered the price waaaaaaay down. I love India.
Then the jewelery shop (for Amy) and the bakery to buy sweets for the children. And then back to the hostel.
I love India.
I'll get photos as soon as I can.
Okay, this took forever.
Done typing now.
Working again tomorrow.
I love those kids.
Thanks for your responses - they're lovely to read. :-)
God is so active here.
Love, drool-covered hand-holding, and hand sanitizer,
Stephanie
P.S. Matt went to Kalighat, the home for the destitute and the dying, today. Wow.
