Thursday, July 2, 2009

Separation

Hello all,

Life has been pretty quiet, and dare I say relaxing, the past day or so. Doing paperwork with Kumari became very methodical yesterday, and then I took on the job of creating posters. We need a poster that indicates the daily routine and another that shows the weekly menu, both are required for inspection. I finished the one for the daily routine, and it looks pretty good. Doing it reminded me of being in elementary or middle school again, back when a “big project” consisted of making a colorful poster.

While I worked, Kumari and I discussed the differences in family life in the US and in India. In India the son stays in his father’s house, even after marriage. She asked if it was the same in the US, and I laughed and said that son and daughters were typically expected to move out and start a life of their own after college. I think that may be why each generation in America is so different, while in India tradition is still strong and change hard to come by. In America we move out at a fairly young age, and at that time create our own, and sometimes new, way of life. In India, since the grandparents, parents, and children all live together for their whole lives there is never the chance to go out and create a new lifestyle or a new set of rules. I’m not saying that one way is better than the other, but simply commenting on the outcome of these different ways of living.

In the evening Pown and I took the motor bike to print out and make copies of the letters, spreadsheets, lists, and forms I had typed up the past two days. The sky was very dark with heavy looking clouds, and the wind whipped up dirt, leaves, trash, and fabric that had been ripped from the clothes lines. I hadn’t bathed in a couple days, and the idea of being caught in the rain was welcoming. The promise the dark clouds had made, however, was never fulfilled other than a couple light sprinkles. I made the copies and we ran a couple other errands, and I realized how comfortable I have become with not understanding three quarters of what is going on around me.

When we finished the errands and come back home, the headmaster of the school was having tea with Kumari. It is still strange to me how much power this tiny Indian woman has over the school system here.

We ate dinner, and afterwards the older payment boys and Priya wanted to play some games. For the first time since being here I actually entered the payment boys’ room. Before I did, though, they locked the door and cleaned for me. When they finally opened it, a cloud of scented talc powder whooshed out of the room. They were trying to make it smell good, but the powder was choking and added a haze to the already dimly lit room. The room was even smaller than I realized. When they sleep they must literally be on top of each other. I saw no way that they could lay, even if it was on their sides, without pressing against one another. We played some complicated number game, and the night was actually a lot of fun, despite the odor of urine that kept wafting in from next door.

Today was more of the same; writing letters, coloring posters, and filling out paperwork occupied most of my morning. Prasad’s brother, Prithivi, ran away again. He has been here two weeks, and has run away five times to his grandmother, who lives several towns away. Kumari can’t be held responsible for him if he refuses to be helped. If something were to happen to him, it is her neck on the line. Because if this, and because there are plenty of other children that need help, Kumari dis-enrolled him, and an hour later there was another boy here. His mother died last year of a snake bite, and his father can no longer take care of him. His father now needs to leave for a job hauling mud in Kerala. It was one of the most heart wrenching things I have ever had to witness. The boy cried the whole time his father spoke with Kumari. Kumari asked me to take a picture of the boy and his father for the boy to have, because he will probably never see him again. When it came time for the father to leave, the boy started screaming and clawing at his dad, and his father could not even look at him. Kumari grabbed the child’s waist to hold him back, and the father marched blankly out of the gate while his boy howled and convulsed for him. I had to go to my room because it was too much for me to watch.

Prince and I tried to distract to boy with food and games, and he calmed down. Even the washer woman, who has never seemed to show any emotion, cuddled him and tried to distract him from all the thoughts and emotions that must have been running through his head.

When everyone else went to take their rest, I decided to enjoy a little alone time. I made some tea, cut up a couple mangos (the mangos here are the sweetest, most flavorful fruit I have encountered) and created a little reading nook in the wall outside. The breeze was amazing and clouds blocked much of the sun’s heat. I dissolved into a book, and for the first time it felt like a vacation. The children will be home soon, though, and any feeling of a vacation will quickly be over.

I love and miss you all,
Peace,
Robby

The father wiping the tears off of his son's face so I could take one last picture of them together.

2 comments:

  1. I can imagine how upset that must of made you... remember when that parent was yelling at her kid in the parking lot when we were going to drop stuff off at goodwill and we were both just like "ahhh!" and ran away? A million times worse :(

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  2. I'm not going to lie, I started to cry while it happened, and then cried again when writing about it.

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