My heart, Open for all to See.

My heart has been through a lot this past year, and I know God planned this trip as a time to get away from America, my packed schedule, and everything else that was in my way of seeing Him. I knew that even when a relationship, that I thought and hoped would last forever, ended.  I knew it, just like I knew He is still King, but I was basically in “survival mode” to get through school and fulfill my duties at work, and my faith and hope had dried up.

I feel like over the past few months I’ve just been lying in the dirt, face-down, and too weak to even call out for help to the One who I know will pull me up.  I see the beggars on the street and envy their ability to ask for help, as my heart’s just been paralyzed and buried beneath the rubble.

The ayahs and children don’t wake up until 9:30, and they don’t let me leave the house (unless I sneak out to go get mangoes or internet) until 10:30 after I have chai.  God has used these things to make me take the time to think and reflect on everything that’s going on in my heart.

My hope’s coming back.  Not in anything specific, but in being able to see that God does have good in the future.  I’m struggling to believe that it’s the best, but at least I can see that it is good right now.  Maybe that doesn’t mean anything to most of you, but to the few who know my internal paralysis, you know it is a big step.

I sit here on my bed, holding a sleeping Baby C. as there somehow are 12 kids in our apartment tonight, with only 2 ayahs and me.  This girl is so beautiful, and her story, too.  Someone abandoned her, and she was born with a cleft palate, but that hasn’t limited God’s beautiful plan for this baby girl.  The director has me working on some adoption paperwork so that other children, like Baby C., might meet forever families soon.  Baby C. already has a family in love with her, trying to get the government and placing agency aligned so they can give her all their love for all her life.

I’m not Baby C., but I guess God doesn’t love me any less. I guess He has something planned for me, too, even though my sight is about .00001/200.

It’s hard being here, with all the time to think. 

It’s hard to read Psalms aloud and not skip the lines about trusting God. 

It’s hard to think that His plan and what’s best may be for me to come to a place like this alone, for the long run.  I’d read several books by single, American/British women who have lived here, preparing myself…I thought.  It’s a lot harder to BE here and realize that God just might have this in store.  I don’t hate the idea, and I see the benefits in it, but, honestly, it’s terrifying. Yet I have to trust in God that He will provide.  Please pray for that, because it’s in the way of whatever’s next. 

I promise next time, I’ll give an update on the kids and their progress, but I feel like I owe some of you this explanation of what’s really going on. Thank you for all the prayers and for the patience in letting me get to this point in my own time.

What No Longer Needs to Be on My Bucket List:

1.  Fight off an attacker. 
2.  Drink soda from a bag.  You can get it in a glass and stand at the shop and drink it, or you can get it sealed in a little baggie, out of which you then take a bite, and squeeze the liquid up to drink it.  I didn’t even make a mess!
3.  Eat a blueberry and chocolate ice cream drumstick-like dessert. Blueberry and chocolate? Who does that??? After getting over the weirdness of it, it was good.
4.  Eat rice with my fingers without making a huge mess
5.  Feed rice to children, with fingers.
6.  Drink chai without burning my lip or tongue.  There’s a technique, and I have no idea why I never figured it out before.
7.  Take a shower with a bucket.
8.  Do laundry with the same bucket (some confusion about when the dhobi-wallah was coming)
9.  Order clothes to be made from someone who speaks about 10 words of English.

The story of numero uno: Yeah, so I’m fine, Mom, stop panicking. I had taken the director’s 2 middle girls to the toy/bookstores to get some paint supplies, and we were making an evening of it, wandering around on the main road at all the shops.  On the way home, we had to go through the neighborhood, and there was a guy behind us—not too close, and not (from my perspective) seeming to be overly attentive to us. Then all of a sudden, the guy ran up and drove his head into my butt and grabbed my waist—probably looking for pockets/money, of which there were none.  I don’t really remember it, but I kept my bag away from him, and I think I elbowed him in the head a couple of times.  He was probably intending to knock me over when he slammed into me, but well, I’m not a tiny Indian girl. I’m a 5’9” not-so-stickly-American. Anyways, we’re all safe and have an interesting story out of it!  I wasn’t really scared, just shocked at the man suddenly hanging onto my hips+defensive that he tried to get my bag—but mainly I was just watching out for the girls.  It would’ve gone differently/not ended so cleanly if he’d gone after them, I’m sure. Lesson of the day: I have a little “Mama Bear” syndrome in me.  We ran the next block after the guy ran the other way! 

And thanks, other international travelers, for telling me I needed a messenger-style bag!  You just saved me all of the $20 I was carrying—hey, it goes really far here! J

The downside of being white here is that I’m seen as rich and therefore might see a little more of this in my time in India.  The upside is that I’m white and so all the men+children stare at & pay attention to me everywhere I go, so I might have more of an advantage in getting help if needed, lol.

I know you’re still freaking out, Mom, so stop, and know I’m okay and can take care of myself, and if need be, I’ll hand over my bag to save my life!  I also know to “scream and run and make a fuss” as long as they don’t take me anywhere else, not to go anywhere with a stranger even if they ask me to help them find their kitty (or monkey, here), etc., etc.  J

 Also, after the rough Sunday, things have improved a lot, so thanks all for the prayers. They were needed & are appreciated J

The Good & My Ugly

Baby House Adventures: The power outages are increasing in frequency, which is fine, as they’re during the day so we have sunlight, but that means that the fans and A/C (the latter of which doesn’t really do much good) don’t work; consequently, the kids are really uncomfortable.  I’ve been covering a lot of the ayahs’ work instead of doing OT, just because the kids need to be fed and dressed and comforted before we can work on mobility and ROM. (Range of motion, sorry).  

My cutie, J., scooted forward about 4 feet today, using only his arms to pull himself. (His legs are paralyzed, I don’t know if I said that before).  He’s so cute, making so much improvement, and I’m the proudest “Amma.”

I have been able to work with Baby C., who has a cleft palate/Gtube and therefore can’t lay on her stomach.  To prepare her for crawling someday, I’ve been putting her in that position and supporting her. She hates it! But yesterday, while we were doing it, another kid bit me, making me jump and let go of Baby C.  After falling face first into the couch, she now hates precrawling exercises even more, and thankfully at least the nurses understand that I’m not torturing her! Then about 10 minutes after that fiasco, I was moving a girl with pretty severe CP to the couch to feed her, and a little girl with dwarfism ran between my feet.  I stepped on her and almost fell over myself, with the child I was holding.  So, that’s kind of what the whole day at the baby house is.  You try to do one thing and 39 other things happen instead.  I hope this is where my OT-gone-wrong stories happen so I’m better when I have a job someday! J

I also have an unofficial pet at the baby apartment, a little lizard I’ve dubbed Komodo.  Today he discovered my granola bars.  That was fun to wake up to.

Cultural Info For (Bekah): I’ve analyzed the natives, and apparently, that sari top did fit the way it was supposed to, minus the sleeves.  Indian women don’t wear bras under sari blouses, just push the girls up and pull the top together as tightly as they can :P  Most of the women also don’t wear underwear, making it easier to just squat and defecate on the side of the road.  The joys of other cultures.  ALSO, there are fireworks going off all the time, which are for weddings (or funerals, but mainly weddings).  I'm still hoping to get invited to one!!! :)

Caution to continue reading:  As I only have a short time on the internet each day, and that varies with the unreliable electricity, this is my easiest form of mass communication with my family, so it’s going to be honest and also exhibit many of my flaws.  If you want a happy story, maybe don’t read the rest of this post, and try again tomorrow.

The honeymoon phase might be over. I still love the country, the people, the culture, but the cultural transition is requiring some work. 

I miss English:  Because the other American volunteer is gone, it means there are only 2 nurses who speak English that I can talk to, unless I go to the director’s house. (The PT—physical therapist, or physiotherapist if you’re in India—also speaks English, but he only comes at night for a couple hours). The older girls I’m working with are in their first year of school, so they also don’t know much English, but thankfully, their older sisters do. It’s a tad difficult to convey to a child with CP that she should make a circle if she won’t look at the paper and she doesn’t know what “circle” means!  J 

All in all, I think I’m getting a little lonely without much communication, considering that I’m used to having multiple roomies and being constantly around people at both of my jobs and school.  I’m looking forward to being in other portions of India, where they don’t hate Hindi so much and I can use my small vocabulary.  Thankfully, some of the neighbors speak English also, so when I take the kids out on the roof, they decide to venture out too so they can practice. 

I’m sure there are many others who speak English/Hindi, but friendliness on the street isn’t really common here, unless you consider “Aaamericaaa, what is your name?” or “Heyyyyyy” as friendly. These people, believe it or not, Bekah, I actually enjoy underneath my stoic facial expression, due to their bad grammar and pronunciation.   I have this mental image of a snooty Russian model, with a vacant stare or eyes down, and perfect posture, that I try to imitate for the purposes of not attracting further attention and, well, safety. I have no idea why Russian, so please don’t take offense, but at least all the attention for being a GORI (white lady) improves my posture J I haven’t popped my back more than 3 times since I got here!

Disasters:  I’ve ventured out twice now on my own to different parts of the “village” (Village meaning 400,000 people), and the first time was so good that I was really pumped to do it again. Today though, I ended up yelling “JAO! JAO! TUM JAO!” (Go/get away) at a little girl who was harassing me for money (and who probably doesn’t even understand Hindi).  I know that I’m not supposed to give, and I know that the money probably doesn’t even stay with her but goes to a “pimp” of sorts, AND I know that because I was the only white person on the street and because her friends/siblings also started to come close, I had to get away. BUT, oh my gosh, it hurts to yell so angrily at an 8 y/o girl—I think I’d rather just put on my tennis shoes and hope that my ability to run distance could come back, and just get away that way instead L.  I attracted enough attention from the other people (moreso than my usual Caucasian appeal) to make her stop and leave me alone.  Five minutes later, she followed me to a shop and slapped me on the face.  I don’t really know what is appropriate to do in that situation—culturally, or ethically—so I just ignored her after my initial shock.  

On the way home, my autorickshaw (google image if you don’t know what this is) got in an accident, and then the driver tried to take me somewhere that wasn’t my destination.  Add a few more incidents with the phone company who complains because they don’t understand your language (haven’t really had that one happen before, especially when they are speaking English to me), waking up daily at 4 a.m. just because I can’t sleep, and an inability to find an ice cream shop to cool down=lousy, pathetic me.

The good news is that the nurses are going to take me to the seamstress tomorrow, and I’ll get my saris and salwar kameez made J

My victims...

This was written yesterday, before the power outage:
I have chosen certain children to target for therapy. I think that I will be able to do more with a few than try to spread myself out over the 100+ kids! Most of them are in the apartment I'm staying in, so I have just analyzed them more. (As an OT student, it's hard to just have fun with kids. Even with my niece and nephews, I'm analyzing their tippy-toe walking and lining of cars and speech to figure out if we need to intervene somewhere!)

So, this is what I do when I can't sleep--either when I go to bed at midnight, or when I wake up at 4 a.m.

1. Analyze the children's behaviors--antecedents, consequences, how to cope with whining, etc. :)
2. Try to figure out the cause and the solution to the physical impairments
3. Brainstorm 3 pages of treatment ideas and potential goals.
4. Brainstorm how to get the ayahs (nannies) to play along. (This, being the most difficult)


Here's some background/what I know on 2 of my victims. I'm trying really hard not to use OT lingo, so please forgive me when I do.

R.: Lives at the girls' house about half a mile away. (I pass a water buffalo on my way there every day. It always scares me as I'm usually admiring the architecture of the buildings.) She goes to school, but has mild CP and can't hold a pencil well enough to write with it. Her other hand is hypertonic, with an indwelling thumb. We're trying to figure out culturally acceptable pencil grips and strategies/splinting for her left hand.

J.: Has stolen my heart. He's the first one I played with when I got here, and the one whose smile brightens my day. He is 3 years old and had spina bifida myelomeningiocele (sorry for spelling!) but had it repaired when he was born. There's nerve damage below that though, and his legs are paralyzed. I'm working with him on core and arm strengthening, so that he isn't "stuck" in one spot. He can only sit up when holding onto something, or pushing up off the ground.
As of yesterday, he began scooting backwards, which is the first time he has been able to move on his own!!! He started scooting forward today, but only a few inches at a time. I'm hoping that by the time I leave, he'll understand and master the idea of picking up his legs and moving them with his hands to turn/move forward or to the sides. I'd also like to see him be able to sit without propping himself up.

I'm wearing my salwar kameez today, and I bought another yesterday. The other volunteer and I ventured out to the market by ourselves without anyone who spoke the language. It was fun and a very crazy few rickshaw rides :) The one I'm wearing today--in addition to my bangles and earings--has turned me out to be a therapy jungle gym in itself, as it has lots of shiny decorations and dangling things. Oh well, at least it keeps the kids happy!

I was told I needed an Indian milkshake sometime while I'm here. I'm not that impressed, sorry :) I did have biryani though (med. spicy so they didn't forget all the spice this time). It was a delicious $3 for 3 meals worth of food. The other volunteer left last night, and I have the room to myself which seems huge but is conducive to my hindi learning :)

Ok, now I'm learning how to play Chinese jump rope with the director's daughters.

Today:
I bought my wardrobe. I travelled to and from the market and apparently was able to bargain for my rickshaw ride better than the Indian manager I work with :) I've been busy, and the kids call me "Ma" like all the other ayahs. It's so precious, and because I'm the one who is willing to play with the kids, they are constantly crawling on me, which I love.

Things I love about India: The men all have really skinny legs and it cracks me up. The horns all sound different, some like saxophones, some have really deep sounds. I get stared at everywhere I look and feel like a celebrity with unwanted attention. The mangoes are to die for. My bargaining skills are improving drastically, although I found out I bought 3bananas for the real price of 10. One of the ayah's daughter (also delayed) danced with me last night. She did the "hip thing" with me, and it's sooooo cute. Even with her disability, I'm sure she does it better than me :) I have no idea what anyone's name is, but a couple times I've thrown out hindi phrases and then get respect & better bargaining in the shops. I will lose a lot of weight, not from delhi belly as previously feared, but from not being able to fill my stomach with much food from drinking so much water.   Power outages cause you to really appreciate fans and air conditioning and wifi and battery power :)

Ok, checking out now to go have art with the kids. :)

The adventures of flying and arriving.

I'm TRYING to keep this short.  But it will be long. My apologies ahead of time.

I waited so long to get here, and I'm finally here. It shouldn't, but it feels so familiar, and I feel at home. Not necessarily this village particularly, but just HERE. Driving through the cities and villages, I just feel like I belong. I know that's from God, because I've really struggled with where I belong lately.  

The trip:
I have the best luck and the worst luck with flying.  The worst is that I never seem to make the ideal flight itinerary that is planned.  On this trip, my flight from STL was delayed 3 hours, causing me to miss my flight in Chicago. I was able to get on the last flight to London thankfully, but then that flight was delayed and I missed my flight to India.  And then I got to add another flight within India to get to my destination.

The best part is that MY BAGS ARRIVED WITH MEEEEEEE!!!!! (If you know anything about my trip to Morocco, you will know how excited this makes me).  The rest of my awesome luck with flying is that I always have had cool people to talk with on the really long flights. A Latina doctor who spent the week in Miami; an Indian from South Africa who lives in Chicago flying home to get married; and a guy studying in Canada who decides to fly home to Delhi to surprise his family, just for the heck of it. 

Everyone was fantastic on the flights--if not perhaps overly willing to tell me of everything I need to do while I'm in India. (Keep in mind, with the south Indian words, which are 39 letters long, I have NO idea what I've been told I need to do).  It was cool to have everyone be so hospitable and glad that I am coming to their country, as well as watching out for me in the airports.

Delhi airport=incredible.  Chennai's airport=not recommended to fly into if you're not already in love with the country.

I also couldn't find my driver at the airport. I guess he was looking for me in the international flights, when I was in the domestic flight area.  I was able to pay someone to borrow their phone to get ahold of my driver, but I know I looked completely stupid walking around--the only white person in sight--with my multiple bags and just laughing because I have no idea what anyone was saying.

The 6-7 hour drive to the village was wonderful.  Surprisingly, I was able to sleep on it, and only had a few moments where my heart rate drastically increased, as the driver panicked due to an almost-accident :)

We had dinner at a roadside restaurant, and it was SO GOOD.  I don't know if the people in that village had ever seen a caucasian before, but with everyone staring at me, at least my posture was improved.  I have also received some special attention on the flights.  Particularly with the high school/college undergrad boys.  It's flattering I suppose but I feign oblivion. Keeping a straight face is difficult, but I've managed so far.

Sarah's Covenant Homes:  http://www.schindia.com/
I am living at the orphanage, in a guest room.  I have a private bath which has a western toilet (!), a spout and bucket for a shower, and a/c (although I won't be using it much).  Our apartment is the baby apartment, and there are 3 ayahs/nannies/nurses there, with 6 kiddos.  I have already fallen in love with one, whom I'll call J.

There's another girl here volunteering right now, but she leaves today. She is a speech/language pathology student, so we've been discussing what we'd like to see around here in what the kids can do and how the ayahs interact with the kids. 

I really Really encourage you to look at the blog, as it will give you a much better idea of who and what is done here. I didn't realize they started the organization only in 2008, and now they have over 100 kids and are blessing so many through it.

The director of the orphanage had us over for breakfast, and we got to hang out with 4 of her kids and 4 of the volunteer coordinator's kids.  I'm going to have a lot of fun with them in the coming weeks!  Yesterday, I was just shown around to some of the different apartments and houses so that I could see particular kids or areas that I wanted to work with in therapy.  I think my main focus will be on the kids that I'm staying with in the apartment, but they have a home with LOTS of kids that is currently in a more "orphanage" environment.  (They are working towards moving it to foster homes, but they keep getting kids and can't keep up with it all).

Last night, we went out to dinner at a hotel and I had malai kofta.  It wasn't spicy at all, because they saw I was american.  Actually, I don't even know if they put any spices in it, so it was a huge disappointment.  Thankfully, it was 150 rupees which is like $3. I can have a bad meal for that price :)  Then, we went home and I was charging my computer so played bollywood music for the ayahs and kids.  The ayahs made me show them my bollywood skills and said I was good.  I think they were being polite, or they just enjoyed the ridiculous entertainment.  The kids loved watching the designs on the computer that played with the songs and I was able to get some of them to start dancing.  It was really neat, as they're not necessarily interactive with their environments all the time, so I'm sure that will become a nightly thing while I'm here!

A summary of other things:  I could understand lots of hindi in the airport which made me so proud, they speak Telugu here in the village and the words are so long I have given up and just fold my hands together to say hello or give an Indian bobblehead nod :).  Basically, I love it. And, now, I should get to work and love on some kiddos!