Dust never rests and neither shall we

Actually, dust is the last thing this orphanage is covered in. I think the order would be more like 1)feces and pee 2)bits of rice and sambar (typical Indian rice topping) from previous feedings 3) dirt from the yard 4) flies 5) clean and dirty clothing.... dust may not even be in the top 10! So obviously cleaning is a favorite past time here at BalaGurukulam and something the children take much pride in. It actually gets to a point of insanity because what kid in their right mind would want to clean? For instance, I was busy brushmopping (they have no mops here, they use a broom of hard sticks to 'mop' the floors) the babies sleeping area when 8 yr old Dina came up behind me and demanded the broom. 'No sistah, you no do. I do it best, give it to me'. I argued with him and told him to go play with the other kids and let me clean the room because I was in 'scrub-everything-clean-because-this-place-is-filthy' mode but he persisted. 'Sistah! You go play, I want to clean. Go be with babies and let me mop, I am much faster'. I decided to ignore him and continue mopping despite his protests. Instead of getting the idea and going to play, he went and found another broom and started re-doing everything I had already done! At that point, I decided if he wanted to clean that bad then, shoot, let the kid clean!

The kids are also super obsessed with paper towels, lysol wipes, baby wipes, basically anything you can clean up messes with that isn't newspaper. They were in awe of us disinfecting poop spots with Mr. Muscle(Indian version of 409 or the like) and literally rip wipes out of my hands to clean it up themselves. They love the feel and smell of the cleaning product and will look for any reason to ask for a wipe or 'room spray'(they like the smell too much, just spray it into the air to make the room smell 'very super'). It gets to a point where we see them recleaning spots with baby wipes we had just used to clean a baby's bottom. At least they are getting the idea of soap and disinfectant, though. Neither had been used to clean up after poop before and I hope they continue to use the cleaning products after we have left.

When they clean our bathroom, on the random day father has decided for them to do it, they will use anything to scrub. My favorite was walking in and having it smell overwhelmingly like my shampoo. In fact, they had used half my bottle to clean everything from the floor to the sink and toilet! I guess they really liked the smell, though it is hard to explain to them why exactly that is not the best thing to use. They also like using laundrey detergent bars to scrub at the floor, leaving blue streaks in the crevasses and slippery spots for us to try and dodge while we take a shower. I think they've gotten the point now that we can clean our own bathroom but I keep my shampoo hidden, just in case.

Another thing the kids like to do is dig through our trash. We take our trash bag out to the pile they have outside their gates to be burned. Though not entirely hygenic, it seems to be what most people use here in Ambattur, and in village life in general. Goats and chickens are always digging through the goodies, scrounging what they can. When it gets burned, though, the smell is atrocious, a combination of plastic, old clothing and food. We learned early on to stay away from that smoke when we see it. The kids, however, seem to get into our trash before the burning takes place and we randomly see them playing with our old toothbrushes or diet coke cans. It can be pretty embarrassing sometimes for us but there is no way to stop it, we just have to be on vigilant watch all the time!

I feel like it just happened, but now that I count the days, it was two weeks ago that we gained three new members to the orphanage. The details about them are unclear due to the normal loss of info that occurs through Ranjith's translations. Navetitra and Ram, a recently orphaned sister and brother, were picked up from a village in the north of the state, and their parents were killed in a road accident. This seems like a clear-cut story, but we are not even certain when their parents died, how they got here or what their ages are although we're guessing that she is 5 and he is 4. In India, a person's age, much like the concepts of truth and time, are relative. We were out of the state when they arrived, and apparently their first few days were a rough adjustment but they seem to be doing much better now. The girl follows Deepa and Chitra, the two oldest girls at 8 and 12, around and mimics their activities. Ram is very chatty (if only we could understand him) and smiley.

Aren't they beautiful?

The third orphan is a different story. She is in her 80s (we've been told) but looks about 95. She had been living with her eldest son, as is usual for Indian parents, but was kicked out of the house when she become to feeble to perform any household chores. Far too old and weak to work, someone gaveRanjith and Sumathy a call and they picked her up to bring her here to live. She's very friendly even though she doesn't speak English and can't seem to accept the fact that we don't speak Tamil. We're buddies since I helped walk her to the prayer room a few times. And she loooved it when Becca and I wore our sari's yesterday.

The old woman, or Grandmother as we're supposed to call her, sleeps in the 'cubicle' in the main dormitory that we took turns sleeping in before, and shuffles across the dorm to the restroom with the Western toilet that also opens up into our room. I think the noise and filth of the kids bothers her, so much that she doesn't use the other restroom with the squat toilets that the kids use. Yet she doesn't know how to use a Western toilet, and ends up peeing and pooping on the floor. She is just like the other orphans in that sense, but it is a bit frustrating (and smelly) to have to clean up more excrement in a place (our bedroom and the adjacent restroom) that served as our relatively poop-free sanctuary. Especially since we're not supposed to wear shoes of any kind indoors. One evening when I was sleeping in the cubicle, I started to walk the 30 feet from the restroom to the cubicle across the floor where all the children sleep. Dina, the little 8 year old boss man of the orphanage, noticed that I was wearing a pair of shower flip flops and shouted "Sist-ah! No! Slippahs inside, no!" I had already anticipated this and showed him the bottom of them, which I had scrubbed clean. This did not placate him, so I took them off and tip toed around the piles of poo and urine. Father had told them not to wear shoes (aka slippers) inside, and Father's word is as good as gold.

The cubicle on the right, the bunk beds where the 3 year olds sleep and the floor for everyone else.

Dina, the little boss man at 8 years old, with Tiger, the nice "guard" dog

Well, it is as good as gold in most cases, at least. There is no such thing as private property at the orphanage, and toys are broken and lost at an alarming rate. Anything within reach of the 3 year olds is rapidly destroyed or covered in excrement (or both at once). Even though the kids have been instructed not to touch anything that is in our room, we've 'lost' plenty of items like two flashlights, my sports bra and a whole box of Orbitz that Becca's mom had sent. Most of the things taken are small things like toys, hard candies and things from home that would have been given to the kids, eventually. I made the mistake of leaving my night time things (my iPod, flashlight and earplugs) in the cubicle once, which has a transparent door that doesn't lock. Becca rescued my iPod from a group of the 3 year olds, and I found 1 and half of my earplugs, which Sharadha had taken a bite out of.

Becca with Ragavi.

Ali holding Rakesh and Kate holding Ramesh.

I only have a few days left before I leave and I am extremely sad to go. I really love these kids. There is no way to really describe it without becoming too sappy, and there will be plenty of tears when I leave. The situation is far from perfect and I've been frustrated and sick in ways I could never have imagined, and, at the outset, I didn't think that I would be coming back to India after the trip ended. Yet the discomfort is minor compared to how strongly I feel for the children. It is truly miraculous what Ranjith, Sumathy, and all of the older kids (without whom this orphanage would fall apart) do. I want to come back someday, hopefully soon. I love these kids too much not to.

Akshaya

Kate and Becca have two more weeks, so if you're in Valdez and would like to donate while we're still over here, you can still take the donations by A Rogue's Garden and Kathy will deposit them into the account we access here. And, once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the donations made so far. It is so appreciated, very needed, and actually goes to the children (which, sadly, is a rarity in many orphanages and homes).

If you're in Valdez, see you in May with more pictures and stories!

-Susan

band-aid sistah?

This is the new favorite saying of the kids here. It seems that band-aids are the 'cool' thing around here now and everyone wants one, wound or not. Little Surya finds old scars that look a little gritty and shows them to us, grimacing as if it hurts to make us think it's something more. Even though we tell them 'no blood, no band-aid' he is a very persistant little boy, batting his eye lashes at us and pursing his lips. We used to fall for that puppy dog expression but not anymore!
Speaking of puppy dogs, I think it is worth talking about the pets of Bala gurukulam.
First off are the cats, two little calico kittens that prowl the grounds for whatever cats prowl for and make some of the strangest yelps I have ever heard. Sometimes we aren't sure if it is a child crying or not and it keeps us a little on edge, especially during the night.
For awhile there, we were taking turns sleeping in a cubicle in the children's room, walls all around but no roof. We have all had a few surprise visits from the cats, suddenly springing from the partial wall onto the bed or vice versa, drawing a few shrill screams in the process. They like to prance around the dormitory and make their weird yelps until someone chases them out the window. Sound like fun house pets, huh? Then we have the fish tank, full of fish from the lake that is a 3 minute walk from the orphanage. Some of the older boys like to go swimming and replenish the stock often, as they tend to eat each other in the tank. I'm not actually sure if they are fed fish food ever or not! At one point, Venkje had even caught a small squirrel and put him in a little wire cage above the snake tank, though I'm not really sure what happened to it. No, they aren't big enough snakes to eat the squirrel but they still make me feel queasy everytime they move, or molt for that matter. Recently, some lizard eggs have appeared in the tank, not sure if it is food or for future playmates, but the kids are anticipating the hatching!
Most importantly are the family dogs, Tiger and Brownie. Tiger is a white mutt and one of the most docile creatures I have ever seen. The kids are constantly poking him, grabbing his tail, his ears, anything they can get ahold of and not once has he snapped or growled at them. Pretty much the only thing I've seen him do is lay around and stare at the gate, or skulk around garbage piles sniffing for food. However, his life hits a climatic point everyday during 'biscuit hour', when the children are presented all kinds of crackers and cookies to keep them enertained for an hour or so. This turns chaotic, as they fight each other for more biscuits or trip and smash their crackers in the process. Tiger unleashes, pouncing on any dropped biscuit he sees before the kids regain their senses and snatch it off the ground. The children watch, mouth agape, as their precious morsels are slurped up mere moments after hitting the earth. Of course we are there to replenish their stock before the tears of despair let loose, but it's funny all the same.
Brownie, however, is the total opposite of Tiger. He is the guard dog, meant to keep people from jumping the fence and, worse case scenario, snatching any children for the slave trade. It hasn't happened, and hopefully never will, but Brownie is a precaution and he is damn good at his job. He is tied up during the day(loose at night), either near the gate or on the opposite side of the courtyard behind some fence, which is my favorite spot for him because he is VICIOUS. Though he loves the children, wouldn't harm them in any way, he hates adults and strangers. He growls, snaps, lunges, anything and everything he can do from his chain to scare the crap out of us. "Look sister, Brownie is laughing" Venkje likes to say with a smile. Even better then that, Brownie likes to get loose. Alot. One of Ranjith's favorite things to talk about is the time Brownie got off and looked like he was headed straight for Susan. Of course, in moments like this, you'd like to think you could be a hero and 'save the children' before your self but knowing Brownie would totally ignore the children she was playing with and go directly for her throat, she freaked. Susan literally jumped over a tree into the garden, shreiking the entire way. Ranjith got quite a laugh and was very impressed with Susan's 'stamina' (we think he means athletic ability when he uses this word?) Usually, Brownie being loose means we all run around with babies in our arms, looking for an unlocked door to hide behind. Venkje is the only one who feels confident enough to approach the dog and put him on the leash again, and even he gets nervous during the task. Though it sounds scary, it's an adrenaline rush we live off of for hours afterwards and we love recount the moments we almost lost our lives to a dog named Brownie.

There is no real way to describe the day to day events since there really isn't such a thing as a 'normal day' at the orphanage, aside from the guarantee of several nap times and several sessions of outright baby mayhem. Random and bizarre events are more the norm, and one day last week was particularly strange.

To feed the babies, usually a giant bowl of rice-and-something (lentils, yoghurt, some liquidy vegetable concoction) is divvied up between several of the older kids, us and/or Sumathy if she is around. We normally have four or five of the kids 3 years old and younger per person and feed them as long as they will sit still by scooping the mixture into their mouths. We had a hard enough time feeding ourselves this way at first, so the poor kids get to wear a lot of the rice by the end of the feeding. I like to think we've improved somewhat. Anyway, immediately after the dinner frenzy Kate and I (Becca was sick) were called over by this older man who lives in the neighborhood. He was an original freedom fighter with Gandhi and is well-respected in the area. He wanted us to come to a 'function' across the street, where two young women were celebrating their coming of age party. Covered in rice remnants and strongly warned by Ranjith and Sumathy several times not to drink the water or eat the food, we walked over in what we were wearing (me in a salwar kamiz, Kate in a beaded floor length skirt and a long t shirt). We were warmly greeted by the father of one of the girls and smiled at by all of the women at the party. We made the usual whimpering noises through our smiles that we make when we have no clue what to say or do but want to make the right impression. The two girls were dazzling in new bright sari's, covered in garlands of flowers and adorned shiny jewels dangling from their wrists, ankles, foreheads and noses. They knelt and bowed at the feet of the older man who brought us there, a sign of respect by 'dusting' the dirt off of his feet. The father said to us, "You do us great honor by coming here and giving them your blessing" and before we knew it, they were kneeling at our feet. This felt entirely awkward and inappropriate to our politically correct, liberal-minded Western upbringing, and we started to back away and say 'No, no' but they were already on the ground. Kate and I looked at each other, laughing with nervousness. Then the girl kneeling at Kate's feet started to stand, catching her headdress on the edge of Kate's skirt. Kate squealed as her skirt started to go above her knees, and both she and the girl turned bright red as they tried to disentangle the beads of Kate's skirt from her jewelry. Everyone at the party found this entirely hilarious, and Kate and I, out of breath from laughing, said goodbye, bowed and walked home marveling at how strange it was that our lives had led up to this moment. But then again, we have said that nearly every day that we've been here.