Random photos from Saturday, January 21, 2006

Bouvana and Anita loading Mark with more bricks... ALWAYS, more bricks!













Palm tree cultivation near the beach...













Local fishermen coming in with today's catch...











QUITE A HAUL!














WHOLESALE MARKET RIGHT ON THE BEACH...















MELPO STEPS CAREFULLY TO AVOID THE MILLIONS OF TINY SILVERY FISH DRYING ON THE BEACH











MORE FISH DRYING IN THE NOONDAY SUN

MARK SURVEYING THE VILLAGE FROM THE BEACH VIEW

ANITA, MARK & BOUVANA

MARK IS WELCOMED TO THE CUDDALORE CENTRAL CLUB

PRESIDENT OF CUDDALORE CENTRAL AND ARUNACHALLAM WELCOME ELIAS

January 21, 2006

LATER THAT SAME DAY...

After we returned to the hotel and had some lunch, we wrote out a few postcards, I went to the business center and uploaded some journal entries onto the blog and we showered and dressed for the events that evening.

Kumar met us around the side of the hotel and we departed from Pondicherry, again heading south to Cuddalore. We were to meet Rajan, Umasouthan, Arunachallam and their family at their home, and then head for the temporary orphanage nearby. Running on “India Time” is a fact of life and one which each of us has come to accept, sometimes unwillingly. I called Rajan on my mobile phone and told him to get ready, as we were fast approaching his home. Upon arrival, we had to wait only about ten minutes and then his wife and children and the rest of he family boarded our coach. We drove down the street several blocks and pulled up in front of the orphanage. The children were out in the yard playing and when we entered the yard, several of them ran to us and hugged our legs or shook hands with us, telling us their names. Mark was particularly interested in revisiting with one young girl, to whom he had taught a hand-clapping game, wondering if she would remember. She spied him and ran to him, and immediately the two of them faced one another, bent knees and clapped their hands together, then crossing and clapping one another’s hands and so on – sort of an adult patty-cake game, going faster and faster. The mistress who oversees the orphanage was there, as well as her ladies on staff, and they greeted us, remembering when we came to visit nine months ago. She happens to be a member of the Rotary Club of Cuddalore Central. After total chaos and pandemonium, order was restored and the children were asked to sit on the floor and special chairs were placed for us at the front of the room.

Melpo, Elias and Mark passing new clothes to each of the children...

We gave Rajan the nod and he requested that the youngest of the children, a little girl, stand in front of the seated children. He reached back to his wife, who produced a carrier bag, and then passed that bag to Mark. We asked that the little girl step forward, and Mark passed one outfit to me and another to Melpo and he passed the first outfit to the little girl. Melpo and I struggled to get one of the frilly dresses out of the plastic wrap, and I held it up in front of the little girl, turning her around so all of the children could admire her new clothes. I smiled and said, “WOW!” and the children in chorus responded, “WOW, Sir!” It was almost like a scene from Oliver, where the children came forward to be given some porridge. The next group, consisting of three little boys, was called forward, and one by one, they stepped toward us, arms outstretched, and again turning around to show the admiring crowd a new set of shirt and shorts. “WOW!” followed by “WOW, Sir!” About the third round of passing out clothing to these children, whispers began to telegraph through the group, and the new look of sheer delight and yet question and anticipation appeared on the faces of the children… “What color will my dress be? Or will it be the right size? Or will it be a frilly dress? they were all about bursting at the seams, waiting their turn to step forward and to be admired by their peers. The colors were astonishingly vibrant and beautiful and with each child, particularly the older girls, we were almost as excited as they, wondering how beautiful they would look in their new clothes.

MADHAN TURNS FOR THE APPROVAL OF THE ADMIRING CROWD!!!

Perhaps my favorite part of this afternoon was being able to see Madhan and find out if he remembered me from our visit this past April. He and his brother, Sundhar, had taken a very special place in my heart and in the heart of one of my teammates, Susan Hartmere from Massachusetts. For some reason, and without knowing, she and I had taken particular interest in each of two boys there, giving them one of the stuffed animal toys we had brought and also later in purchasing clothing for each of them. We were later amazed to learn that the two boys were brothers and had lost both parents to the Great Wave. Madhan was about eleven and his brother, Sundhar was fourteen, although their statures belied their years. How gratifying it was when we arrived at the orphanage to have Madhan come to me and give me a big hug. It was such a treat for me now to be passing three sets of new clothes to each of them and having them beam an ear-to-ear smile in thanks.
The afternoon was, once again, a roller coaster of emotions and Mark and I, and even Melpo who had no direct previous connection to these children, found it difficult to hold back tears of excitement, joy, concern, wonder and contentment. When we left, we could only hope that we had done the right thing and that these children would wear these clothes proudly to school or to other events during their busy lives. We could only hope that we had somehow brought a few moments of joy and freedom to each of the children, as then returned to their sitting spot and clung to the carrier bags full of new clothes. We could only hope that somehow, someday way in the future, these children who had suffered the traumatic loss of family and homes, would recall fondly the day when three westerners stopped by their temporary home and passed to each of them personally chosen outfits of clothes, because they were special in the hearts of those who served them.

MARK SURROUNDED BY THE CHILDREN HOLDING ONTO THEIR CARRIER BAGS OF NEW CLOTHES

Following this, we were escorted to the location of the meeting of the Rotary Club of Cuddalore-Central, where we met some friends from last year, and established new friendships with Rotarians we had not previously met. Each of us was asked to speak of his or her experiences and impressions of our week of work there and following our remarks, there were questions for each of us. We did our best to promote the Rotaract Club and its members – ROTARY IN ACTION, and encouraged and invited each of the members, and extended the invitation to their families, to join the Rotaractors at the building site in the coming few weeks as finishing touches are put on the one hundred homes and the village is turned over to those who will live in the homes. Understanding full well that such a practice is quite foreign to this culture, due to generations of societal practices of the caste system, we can also hope and pray that somehow we might have succeeded in breaking down the barriers and that some of the Rotarians will stop by, roll up their sleeves and pitch a few bricks or wield a paintbrush to serve the new residents of this wonderful village of Pannithittu.

January 21, 2006

Mark Little and Chef Ragubabbu

This would be our final day of working at the construction site, and each of us arrived for breakfast with mixed emotions – a feeling of accomplishment; another sub-chapter drawing to a close; working alongside the laborers for the last time; beginning our journey back home in a few more days… the list goes on and on. The chef, Ragubabu, was waiting for us, as usual, and wanted to know if we would prefer poached eggs, fried eggs – up, fried eggs over easy, or would we rather have him create something else special for us. It was amazing to think several of the staff at the hotel, from the manager to the front desk clerks, to the bellmen, to the chef, to the doormen…they all seemed to have remembered us from the prior year, remembering our team members, and inquiring about some of them. For some reason, we had made a lasting impression nine months ago, when we came from the other side of the globe to work in their territory to restore some sense of normalcy to villagers who had lost so much. There were many other guests, in groups traveling for business meetings or elder hostel people trying to absorb some of the culture, but for some reason, the staff treated us differently. They knew we had left our families and at our own expense, had traveled to India solely for the purpose of serving others – their fellow citizens.

Kumar types Indian National Anthem

We finished breakfast and had asked Kumar, our driver, to be ready to leave at 8:30 for our journey south. Earlier that morning, Shanmugam had contacted Kumar by mobile phone to alert him to the fact that there would be a group of nine members of the Rotaract Club from Cuddalore Central who would be joining us at the worksite. We were, once again, to meet them along the coastal road, just at the turnoff to Pannithittu Village. Saturdays are like any other days of the week, and the working crew would be waiting for us. We arrived at the pick-up point and there were seven members of the Rotaract Club waiting. They boarded the coach and we headed down the winding road to Pannithittu. Each time we passed by the front of the local school, we had to sort of brace ourselves because of the huge sleeping policeman across the road, to help slow the traffic. A couple of times, Kumar had forgotten it and we bounced over it, tossing us around a bit and if we were standing at the time, banging our heads against the ceiling. When I inquired about the missing members, I was assured they were coming by separate transport.

Along the road the previous day, some of the members of the Rotaract Club asked us to sing some songs. In turn, I asked them to sing songs, but they were somewhat shy about doing so. Mark and I broke into one of the songs we had used on the job last year, “I’ve been working on the Railroad”. Mark sang one or two English ditties and I said I could not recall all of the words to the next one, but I would whistle it instead. I began whistling the notes of a song with which all of the Rotaractors would be familiar – the National Anthem of India. Over the course of my travels to India, I had somehow memorized the music, and they seemed to be very pleased. I remarked that if I had the words, I would be happy to sing it for them. One of the members said he would have the words for me on Saturday morning. He was good to his word. As we approached the worksite, he produced a hand-written paper with the words written out in “Roman” style, so I might be able to pronounce them. We stopped beneath the huge ficus tree, once again, and as Mark, Melpo and the others left, Anita and the young man who had written out the lyrics remained with me, along with Kumar. I asked if we could take a few minutes to type the words into my laptop, so I would have them to look at later. We began sounding out the words and I started to type them, but Kumar insisted upon bring the one to enter them onto my laptop. He finished that task and we reviewed the lyrics once, speaking them out loud, and then sang them quietly. Finished!

Some of the members of the Cuddalore Central Rotaract Club who worked tirelessley with us.

We walked toward the area where we would be working, and the laborers seemed even friendlier than on previous days. Mark had taken with him a copy of a photo taken of me with Swami Chidanand Saraswati, the one of him passing me the jug of holy water from the Mother Ganga, and had shown it to Amir, the foreman, and he in turn had shown it to the laborers. Having seen the Swami’s photo emblazoned on the huge billboard-sized posters at the entrance to this development, they were very familiar with who he was and what he represented. They were now putting together who we were, and as Martha Stewart says, “It was a good thing!”

WHAT DO WE WANT? MORE BRICKS!

WHEN DO WE WANT 'EM? NOW!!!!

The night before, following dinner, Mark, Melpo and I had taken an auto-rickshaw down into the shopping district of Pondicherry, as each of us had some things to purchase for family and friends. My purchases consisted of a kurta and Punjabi pajama bottoms for a friend back home. At the same shop, I had seen shelves containing dotis and lungis (typical dress for men in this area). These two items are really nothing more than pieces of cloth, about the size of a half a bed sheet, the dotis being white with a colored stripe along the edges, and the lungis being more colorful, generally in a plaid motif. I chose the one I wanted, and with coaxing from Mark and Melpo had decided I would wear the lungi on Saturday while working. Mind you, it takes a bit of practice to be able to wrap the lungi properly around you, first having it sort of a full-length skirt, and then learning the next step, where it becomes a half-length skirt. The choice remains with the wearer as to whether or not to wear something under the lungi… I chose to wear a pair of gym shorts.

We worked for a while and then I ducked into one of the homes, and changed my clothes, wrapping the few yards of material around me, tucking in the ends and rolling it to form a waistband, and then reaching down to take the ends and folding them up to form the shorter version. I merely came out of he building and proceeded to the brick line and began passing the bricks along with my fellow volunteers. First Anita noticed my change of attire and then another and another, and the Rotaractors all smiled and cheered that I had adopted this form of clothing. It was a few more minutes before some of the laborers also noticed and they smiled and nodded approval. The lungi provides a nice breeze and is most comfortable to wear. I carried a few baskets of sand over to where they were mixing up more concrete, but primarily worked in the brick line.

We had all become quite proficient in moving tons of bricks and with a good deal of speed and accuracy. The last one in the line was responsible for stacking the bricks in an orderly fashion, to make it easier for the mason’s tender to pass them to be cemented into the walls. It was amazing to see the progress that had been made since we had first arrived days before… from bare foundation to walls erected to a height of some ten feet, with the supporting concrete columns for which I had carried the hods of concrete on my head, and which had been dumped into the forms the previous days. Again, a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction.

A Real Fashion Statement!!!

Since we were going to be at work early that day, we had checked with Amir and he had told us we could plan to leave at noon. However, since we seemed to be on a roll, we chose to work straight through until 1:00 p.m., when the rest of the crew was going to take lunch. Bricks moved along the line faster and faster, in anticipation of the completion of a task, and rather than merely passing them from one member to the next, we were tossing them an even further distance, catching them often in one hand and shifting them to the other, in one fluid motion, while tossing them on to the next in line. Most of the local laborers simply would come to the brick pile, load up six, eight or ten bricks in a basket, lift the basket onto their head and then carry them to wherever they were needed. If they could have assembled a team, they might have moved more bricks, but having said this, there was a certain poetry about watching as young men and women walked along with piles of bricks on their heads, swaying somewhat, but always maintaining perfect posture and balance. Each of us was contributing in his or her own way to the greater goal of building this village.

When one o’clock arrived, we passed along the final round of bricks and gathered to take some water and electrolytes, before packing our things into various bags and walking one last time through the village of one hundred homes. The concrete steps up the sides of each unit had been completed and smoothed beautifully; the corrugated cement roofs had been lifted and set into place atop the poles, thereby creating a shaded veranda on the front of each unit; septic lines had been connected to the tanks at the back of the units; wooden frames with screening material had been installed into the window openings; electrical services had been wired in. All in all, everything was coming together and we were left with no doubt that not only was this the village which was the first in all of India to be dedicated, but it would be the first to be completed within the coming few weeks.

SATURDAY BATH TIME...

We rounded the end of one of the houses, entering upon one of the “courtyards” and found the workmen hosing down near to the common well, and then lathering up concluding their work for the week, as well. They seemed to be very happy, and willingly posed for us to take a few snapshots of them, but always wanting to see the instantaneous results on our digital screens. Smiles and laughter came to them as they checked out the photos on Mark’s camera and mine. The strangers who had at the beginning of the week invaded their space, had become friends in the course of time, and now were departing with as little fanfare as when we arrived. Some of the laborers gathered around the office area, where Amir and his assistant came to say thank you and to shake our hands. Wait! Did I detect one or two faces indicating a bit of sadness that we were leaving?

From here, we boarded the bus and had Kumar drive us into Cuddalore, where we dropped off the Rotaractors and gave them some Rupees to buy their lunch. We were going to return to Pondicherry and rest a while and get showered and dressed for the next event. This was going to be an amazing time for us and deserves its own entry.

January 20, 2006

Long day’s journey into night...

Friday and we have decided to leave earlier from the hotel in Pondicherry, in order to meet some members of the Cuddalore Central Rotaract Club. Headed by Shanmugam (who incidentally was just named Rotaractor of the Year for his District) Bouvana (Shanmugam’s sister) and Anita, we expected to see the same group of Rotaractors as had been working with us on and off for the week. As we approached the turnoff from the main road leading between Pondicherry and Cuddalore, which would lead us down a winding secondary road to Pannithittu Village, we were pleasantly surprised to see four or five more members who were coming to volunteer for the day. They boarded our traveling motor coach and off we set down the road, taking time to introduce each other. These volunteers were all students at the local university, majoring in a variety of fields of study, and all eager to follow our lead in the construction process. Kumar drove our coach to the side of the road and parked it beneath an enormous ficus tree, which cast shade over it and a good part of the street for the greater part of the day. There were a few familiar faces of the local villagers to smile and greet us either with Namaste or Vanacum, depending if they were Hindus or Tamils. A few hens scattered as we walked through the entrance to “our” village and some of the laborers looked up and smiled as we approached.

Amir was waiting for us to direct us to what we might be doing for the morning, we al the time hoping that it was not confined to the ever-popular brick line! It seemed that great progress had been made during the course of the week: septic tanks were being installed with lines leading from the lavatories and toilets of each unit; corrugated cement roofs being lifted and attached to the frames to provide shade to the front porches; wooden framed screens being installed in the windows; and exterior stairs leading to the terrace roofs being smoothed out. Things were really shaping up!

We walked through the sandy soil, past the diesel powered cement mixer, which stood petrified in the center of one of the garden areas, as a monument to the fact that one should always hose down the mixer and clear out all portions of the concrete mixture before leaving it for the night. One young lad was chipping away at caked on concrete, hoping beyond all hope that he could free this behemoth from its frozen state. Not to be…

We walked down to the area we had called home for the week, and set our sacks containing bottled water and packets of electrolyte powders under the shade of a palm tree. Looking toward the sea, we were able to catch a glimpse of a few fishing boats from the village, along with one fishing raft. The fishermen were letting out their nets for the day’s catch. Well, what was it to be???? Brick lines, hods of concrete, perhaps painting some whitewash onto the walls where the electrical service had been brought in and concrete patching had been completed? You guessed it… more bricks. We noticed that the pile from which we had been taking our bricks and passing them along the line to the masons, had not diminished, but rather increased in size to almost double from where we had left it the previous afternoon. We had seen a truck carrying a load of bricks coming down the road as we had left the day before, but never expected that the gift on board be for us!

Mark called out, “Right everybody! Let’s get into proper formation and begin moving some of these bloody bricks!” Some of the “newbies” had to be guided into place and the passing began. There is a certain rhythm that helps to move things along and helps to keep a good steady pace. Aerobics class was never like this, but the bending and catching and turning and tossing certainly could do wonders for one’s love handles. Looking at the students, however, this was NOT a consideration. Melpo, Mark and I found that we were actually in better condition for this kind of work, maybe simply because we had been doing it all week. I had brought a couple of pair of work gloves with me from home, but Melpo had no gloves, so she asked if she might borrow my socks to use as gloves to protect her hands. I obliged, and the bricks began their journey from huge neatly stacked pile, to not-so-neatly stacked smaller piles for the tenders to pass on to the masons.

We worked for forty minutes and then took a ten-minute break for re-hydration and just taking rest in the shade. The sun was quite hot even by mid-morning, but I found wearing a baseball cap was more bother than it was worth. We did have some sunscreen we applied, but that soon wore off with sweat. “Okay, right! Back to work,” Mark called out encouragingly. Amir came and suggested that Anita and Bouvana might prefer to paint, rather than pass bricks, and we certainly missed having them in the line, as each of us had to toss and catch with longer spans between us. A new challenge and a new rhythm, but we managed. We worked for nearly four hours and then sent Shanmugam and Melpo and one other Rotaractor to the coach to have Kumar drive them into Cuddalore to pick up lunch for the young people. We three had decided that rather than taking so much time to travel back and forth to town and to eat in a restaurant, we could accomplish a great deal more by partaking of two bananas each, which Ragubabu had provided us from the hotel, along with one or two high protein bars I had brought along with me from home. While the others were buying lunch, the remaining group worked to move smaller piles of bricks closer to where the masons would need them – actually inside the soon-to-be rooms in the housing units.

Lunch arrived and the Rotaractors disappeared into one of the not-quite-finished units and had their lunch. Mark, Melpo and I ate our power lunches and then decided to walk to the beach for a stroll and possible some wading. We walked along a lane, beneath some towering palms and found a break in the thorny fencing protecting some planting of baby palms near the beach, which would eventually serve to shade others, as well as to prevent erosion. We arrived at the beach and Melpo spotted a log, which would accommodate the three of us. There was a fairly strong fishy odor wafting down the beach, which we discovered later was produced by tens of thousands of small silvery fish, laid out to dry in the sun. Dried fish is a staple in the local diet, if one could only get past the overpowering stench. We turned away from that area of the beach and walked along until we reached the log.

We sat down, took in the view and then took off our shoes and walked down to where the waves were lapping onto the shore. We stepped into the water and waded out to knee deep, and were pretty impressed with the strength of the undertow. With the rise and fall of one wave, we found our feet were buried beneath several inches of sand, and also found it very difficult to maintain our balance.

We stayed at the beach for about a half hour and then wandered back to the work site, listening as Mark regaled us with stories of when he has a young lad, living in India. Mark was born in Mumbai (ne Bombay) and had spent his early years in Salem, where he attended the same school where PDG Purushotaman had gone. He told of poisonous snakes and how as youngsters, fear seldom played a role, when flicking a snake with a stick.

When assessing the jobs for the afternoon, it was determined that shorter distances had to be covered, so I volunteered to carry hods of concrete on my head for the afternoon. We worked until well after five and were pretty exhausted by the time we left. Piling back into the coach, we headed toward Cuddalore, dropping off the Rotaractors downtown and then heading north to the Hotel Annamalai – our oasis in Pondicherry. Upon arrival, we gingerly disembarked and climbed the three steps to the front door, where a smartly dressed doorman saluted us and opened the door. Mind you, I doubt if we had to have opened the door ourselves, not any one of the three of us could have done much more than fall against the door, praying that it would have fallen open under the weight of our body mass.

After a hot bath or shower, we all met in the lobby and ventured into the “veg” restaurant in the hotel, and enjoyed a fine meal. We decided however, that before we fell asleep in our dessert plates, we ought to go to our rooms and sleep peacefully, anticipating our last day of work.

January 19 --- SHOP 'TIL YOU DROP!!!

When friends and fellow Rotarians learned of my trip, several sent money to me, as well as to my friend, Mark Little from England, for the purpose of purchasing clothing for the children who will eventually occupy the orphanage where we helped to construct the community hall. On our last trip, we had visited the temporary living quarters for the then forty-three orphans, and had taken time to play with them in the play yard, as well as taking chai with them, and a few biscuits.

As I may have previously mentioned, a woman named Zeda, from California, had learned of the trip last April, and had sent several dozen teddy bears and other stuffed animals with the Rotarians from California. She and I agreed that children, who were traumatized by the tsunamis, could certainly benefit from something to which to cling and to cuddle when they took their sleep or just needed something to love. When we first arrived at the orphanage last April, each of us took two stuffed animals to give to the children. We also took tiny bottles of bubbles and pencils and Beanie Babies and candies and so much more. The children sang a song for us when we arrived, and then, after a while, we all joined in singing a number of songs. It actually did not matter what we sang, “Jingle Bells”, “Home on the Range”, or “I’ve been working on the railroad”… they just wanted to clap their hands in time to the music.


As we had worked very hard in the morning, in heat of approximately ninety-five degrees, carrying bricks and setting them for the bricklayers. Additionally, Melpo and I both slathered white wash on the interior walls of the nearly completed homes. We were invited to have lunch at the home of Rajan and his family. We were treated to a totally “veg” meal, prepared by his wife and sister-in-law. It was absolutely delicious and we were please to have the opportunity to chat with his father, before he left to present in court in the afternoon. After lunch, a number of the local Rotarians dropped by the house to meet us and chat with us, as well as to invite us to a very special meeting of the Rotary Club of Cuddalore Central on Saturday evening. Later on, we were each given a personalized invitation, in which we learned that WE were the program for the Saturday evening meeting! Although Mark and I are quite used to attending multiple meetings, and having to speak extemporaneously, Melpo had the look of stark terror, when she learned she might have to address the Rotarians and their families.

In the late afternoon, we changed some money and then Rajan and his wife, younger daughter and nephew all piled into the van and went to a shop where he generally buys clothes for his family. We went to the second floor – the Children’s Department – and met the owner/manager of the store and explained why we were there. Upon changing our dollars and Travelers’ Cheques into Rupees, we literally had bundles of currency stuffed into our pockets. I shared with Mark and Melpo a line from one of my daughter’s favorite movies, PRETTY WOMAN… “We are going to spend an obscene amount of money!”



Rajan had obtained a listing of the children by age group and gender and so we set about choosing three outfits of clothing for each of the children, beginning with the youngest age – girl from two to four years, and so on. Some of the clothing for the littlest girls included frilly dresses, what our children might call party dresses. It always amazes me that even though little girls and boys play in the dirt, just as any other small children, these children always seem to “shine”. To quote an old television advertisement for a laundry detergent, “the whites are whiter and the brights are brighter!” As the sizes got larger, the style of clothing changed – boys went from shorts to long pants with coordinated shirts, and girls went from frilly dresses to handsome three-piece ensembles with a long tunic-type top, pants and a shawl or stole called a salwar kameez. The colors were amazing – reds, purples, greens, blues, golds, maroons – all very rich. By the time we had finished, stacks of clothing which covered the counter from one end of the store to the other – about fifty or sixty feet! Then, with care and precision, each set of clothes was folded, and stacked and packed in its own carrier bag, so each child would additionally have a hefty sack.


















Mark and I had a specific amount of money to spend and when the entire lot was tallied, (and without the shop owner knowing the amount we had to spend) the total came to within four dollars of what we had allocated. All of the small sacks were placed in larger carrier bags, the sizes and numbers of outfits notated on the outside, for ease later when we distributed the clothes to the children – an event to which we were all looking forward. The large bags were gathered up and six strapping young lads carried them down the two flights of stairs and up the street to our van, where our driver, Kumar had been parked for those past three hours, He opened doors at the back of the van and loaded the bags into the back and up and over onto the seat at the rear of the van (more of a motor coach than a van). When we got back into the van, the entire back seat, which would normally accommodate five adults, was filled with bags of clothing. What an experience!


By the time we dropped of Rajan and his family at their home, and then were driven back to our hotel, about a forty minute drive, we were totally exhausted, but pleasantly so. Since Kumar slept in the van each night, we decided to leave the clothing inside, so we wouldn’t have to carry it in and out of the hotel. As tired as we were, smiles of satisfaction filled our faces and when we entered the hotel lobby, the general manager was there to greet us and when we told him what we had just done, he was beaming and without hesitation, told the rest of the staff there about us. It seemed that these folks also took some ownership and pride in what we had come to do – just to make a small positive difference in the lives of the people there.

Photos from the journey

This photo was taken the evening I spent in Rishikesh, at Parmarth Niketan Ashram. The ceremony was held in the evening along the banks of the Mother Ganga (Ganges) and Swami Chidanand Saraswati is presenting me with a jar of blessed water from the Ganga. It was a particular privilege for me to observe the aarti ceremony that evening.










This is a local fisherman from Village Pannithittu, whom we met while walking along the beach one day after we had taken a lunch break. There were other fishermen out in the sea in their boats, and a few on shore with poles, but this gentleman was holding a simple fishing line and tossing his line out into the water and letting it drift with the current and the waves.

















On Friday, we were needed in some other areas of work, including carrying hods of concrete to the site where it was to be poured into the forms to make the columns of the buildings. When I first donned the "donut" ( a wound up bundle of the plastic concrete bag, flattened out into a cushion to make it easier to carry things on one's head). At first, the young boys were skeptical I could carry the load, but soon were disabused of their doubts.







Every morning, in Delhi, where I was staying with Sanjiv Saran and his family, the local fruit seller came by with his cart, bringing the freshest of produce for his customers. His is a bicycle cart and each morning, his call out into the neighborhood could be distinguished from the calls of other produce vendors.











At the distribution booth in the old section of Delhi, mothers and fathers, as well as older sisters and brothers brought youngsters, under the age of five years, to the site for getting immunized against polio. Following each administration of oral vaccine, the finger marked with gentian violet in order to assure that in the coming week people tracking the NID would know that child had been immunized.








Local woman in Pannithittu Village proudly acknowledging the sign indicating that her home had been constructed as a result of donations from Rotary Clubs in England. Each home has two rooms, consisting of a reception room, where the family would also eat, and a bedroom. Additionally, there is a lavatory and a toilet, along with a covered porch and a rooftop terrace. The villagers were so pleased to finally be able to settle their lives after a year of trauma and uncertainty.







This is Melpo Economou and she has been in India since this past October, working as a volunteer at Balakai Mukti Ashram - a safe place where children who have been rescued from child slavery can live and become rehabilitated. She is the daughter of a friend of Mark Little who is traveling with me from Norwich, England, and has been working hard with us all week. Here, Melpo is showing one of the frilly dresses we purchased at a store in Cuddalore. Last year, we had purchased clothing for some orphans who were victims of the tsunamis, and this year, we spent three hours at this store choosing three outfits of clothing for each of 55 children at the same orphanage.

January 18, 2006

January 18, 2006

An Emotional Return…


This morning, we set out with our driver, Kumar, and traveled south to Pannithittu Village, where we were to meet up with some members of the Rotaract Club from Cuddalore. ROTARACT is an officially sanctioned program of Rotary International that is comprised of young adults, many of whom are students at universities and colleges throughout the world, who are potential Rotarians. The concept of Rotaract in India is HUGE!!!! To be a member of Rotaract is an honor and is very prestigious and Rotaractors are looked up to by their colleagues and fellow students. The president of the Rotaract Club in Cuddalore is Shandmugan and his sister, Bouvana worked with our team in April of last year, when we were helping to construct the Community Hall at the orphanage in Cuddalore. They were faithful to the cause and joined us each day we worked at the site. With them yesterday was another member of the Rotaract Club, Anita. She is studying for her B.A. degree, as is her best friend, Bouvana, who is studying history. Shandmugan was recognized recently as the top Rotaractor in the entire Rotary District 2980, and will be traveling to Singapore for a conference in a few weeks, where he will meet with all of the other nominees from Asia.

When our van approached the construction site in Pannithittu Village, both Mark and I were filled with a range of emotions, knowing that thus far, we had helped to raise funds to pay for the construction of approximately fifty of the one hundred permanent homes for the fishermen and their families. On December 13, 2005, this village was dedicated with a puja ceremony, led by Swami Chidanand Saraswati, and joined by the Lieutenant Governor Lekhar of Pondicherry, and the District Collector Mr. Singh Bedi, among others. Unfortunately, neither Mark nor I was able to travel to India at that time for the ceremony, but were impressed with the amount of progress which has been made since ground was broken on September 15, 2005. Although some of the homes are incomplete, several of them are occupied because a number of the fishermen and their families no longer had living accommodations and therefore, were allowed to move into their homes before all of them have been completed. This said, however, Pannithittu Village is recognized as the first tsunami village of permanent homes to reach a dedication and occupancy stage in all of India. Mark had brought along some signs from England Rotary Clubs, indicating that they had donated the funds to pay for several of the homes, and these signs, although temporary, will be affixed to the entries of several homes tomorrow. The permanent signs will be in marble and set into the walls of each of the homes.

Once we were introduced to the work boss and his assistant, Amir, we moved to where we would be working for the day. For those in the team from last year, BRICK LINES has a very specific meaning. Within the week we worked in April, we moved BY HAND between 25,000 and 40,000 bricks at that construction site! Today, we were able to encourage some of the construction workers to join us in passing about 2,500 bricks to the areas where the masons were working to build walls. We worked for several hours, taking breaks about every half hour, replenishing our fluids with plain bottled water, or water to which we had added electrolytes powder – a practice we followed last year. Finally, it was time for lunch and we left in the van, having the Rotaractors accompany us to Cuddalore. Although we stopped at what could best be described as a sandwich shop, it had just re-opened following several days of the Pongal celebration, and was not able to serve us. At the suggestion of Rajan (our clerk of the works from last year), we decided to go to the most famous vegetarian restaurant in Cuddalore to have our lunch.

We started down the main street, and something snapped under the hood of the van and we coasted to a stop on the side of the road. After an inspection, Kumar produced the belt that had snapped and needed to be replaced. Shandmugan suggested that we walk to the restaurant, and although we were somewhat exhausted from our labors of the morning, we proceeded down the main street of Cuddalore. We determined almost immediately that WE were the attraction, rather than being the tourists – mothers would nudge their children and tell them to look at us, possibly seeing white westerners for the very first time. Anita had taught us how to say “hello” in Tamil, the language of Tamil Nadu, and so when we looked at some of these people and said, “Vanacum”, some of the children would turn and giggle to their parents, possibly wondering how these strange looking people were speaking their language. We arrived at the restaurant, Anandha Bhavan which serves only ONE entrée, whether at lunch or at dinner – thali – served on a stainless steel plate with a leaf inserted into the bottom, with tiny pots of dal, chutneys, curries and curd. Following lunch, we were brought a small plate with bananas and pan. Pan is a mixture of pungent herbs and spices, wrapped up in a leaf. We were instructed to eat the banana first and then to eat the pan – all in one bite! The three Rotaractors joined us and the meal was delicious.

Following lunch, we drove to the site where we had worked on helping construction at the orphanage this past April. As we reached the gate of the orphanage, I was amazed to see that on the location where we had been working in April a beautiful new community hall had been erected and was now complete. What a feeling to know that our manual labor had actually served as the foundation for this building and inside today was a group of two hundred women who had been displaced by or suffered from the tsunamis and were attending an all day conference for re-orientation and counseling. How gratifying to know that resulting in a small way from our efforts these women now could participate in such a conference on this site. Where we had worked on bending steel reinforcing rods and assembling them into “cages” with bent steel rods attached every eighteen inches, there was now the half-constructed a new building which will serve to house the orphans in only a few more months. Where we had sat in shade beneath the trees for a hydration break or to have our lunch, or simply to rest, there was now a second dormitory building under construction. Mark and I walked around the campus of this facility and watched as each other’s eyes filled with tears of joy and pride, and at the same time sadness since our fellow Rotarians were not with us at this time to see the amazing work which has been accomplished. The general contractor of the project arrived and greeted us warmly, recalling how our team would arrive in the mornings, disembark from our bus and break into a rendition of “Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to work we go!” When we were ready to leave this past April, the contractor approached me and asked if we could only stay longer. I told him each of us had left our families and businesses, and at our own expense had paid for the trip to come to India to work as manual laborers at this site and that we had to return home. He confided in me that in the one week of time we spent working at this orphanage, the amount of work, which had been accomplished, equaled at least four-and-a-half weeks worth of work!

We also toured the ladies’ dormitory and classroom building with the administrator, and were impressed to see the wonderfully equipped computer-teaching center. At least a dozen young women will be able to attend classes in computer training. Additionally, some of the young women who reside here will attend classes in beauty culture and others in stitchery. The hope is to have these young women become self-sufficient and to be employable within the coming several months.

Before boarding the van, Mark and I stood back for a moment and reflected upon what we had done some nine months ago and the impact that our small contribution had made at this place. Again, our eyes began to fill with tears and someone suggested it was time to go and so we boarded the van and departed.

From here we drove to the River Festival, where literally thousands of residents of Cuddalore and surrounding villages were attending the annual festival, which follows Pongal in January. Shandmugan told us we would be walking for about an hour, and the noise and the dust were literally intoxicating. There was a constant drumbeat in the distance, and as we grew closer to the river’s edge, we saw about eight or nine “shrines” to different gods, which were lined along the riverbank and where people were bringing offerings to those who were attending the booths. We were more or less moved along by the crush of people and once more, we became the curiosity, as we were white westerners, whom most of those in attendance had never seen before. The six of us (Rotaractors included) got closer to the sound of drums beating and saw a man dancing with wild gyrations to the syncopated rhythm of the drum. Just then, Mark and Melpo began to dance, much to the delight of the onlookers. Jitterbugging was not what I had expected the onlookers would have expected, but they certainly all enjoyed it, and one young man came and kissed Melpo’s hand.


After the “River Dance”, we walked back through the crowds toward town, stopping along the way to purchase a small item or two and eventually returned to our van. We drove from the two center to the home of Rajan, whom I mentioned before had been with us every day last year in Cuddalore, as we worked on the construction project. His father is a renowned Rotarian in this area, having been a longtime member of Rotary and having served as the founding member of the Rotary Club of Cuddalore Central. It was last year that we visited their home, being welcomed by four generations of their family, the grandfather and grandmother, son and wife, two grandsons and their wives and families. Rajan’s father served as principle translator for all of the ceremonies in conjunction with the Lieutenant Governor of Pondicherry and Swami Chidanand Saraswati. He has an amazing gift of being able to switch from English to Tamil to Hindustani (Hindi) wish great ease. Likewise, his granddaughter, Ajita, was the hit with our group. Ajita, now eleven years old, has the same ability to assist in translating, and constantly displayed a smile on her beautiful face. Mark and I were eager to renew our friendship with this family, and particularly to see Ajita.

While we were there, we chatted with Rajan’s father, who had been singled out as one of the top ten Rotary Club presidents in the entire Rotary world, by Past Rotary International President, Rick King, at the international convention in Barcelona, Spain, for bringing in the greatest number of new members to his club during the year 2001-2002. Rajan’s brother currently serves as president of his Rotary Club, so it is easy to see how Rotary serves as a great part of their entire family. Ajita had returned home from school and seemed very happy to see us. She had grown a good deal, and was doing very well in her studies at school. She is already focused upon becoming a computer technical engineer and from what I could gather, is already writing some computer programs. We visited with the family for about an hour and then departed.

From Rajan's home, we left, accompanied by Rajan, his wife and their nephew, and drove to Thevinampattinam village, where nine months ago we had been invited by Swami Chidanand Saraswati to join in the blessing of the fishing boats. It had been nerly four months since any of the fishermen had returned to the sea, and so I was particularly privileged to be included in those who were in the boat with Swamiji, and our boat, along with five others ventured out into the sea, where Swamiji offered a prayer and blessings and without TOO much incident, we returned to shore to be welcomed by the villagers. Again, returning to some of these locations brings the emotions flooding back into my memory. From there, we then drove back to Cuddalore Beach, and were astounded to see the transformation in just a few months, since our last visit.

At that time, there were only a very few villagers wandering the beach, listlessly. They had blank stares of horror on their faces, and I remember when we approached some of the men that day, they simply drew closer to us, embarced us and several broke down emotionally and wept while we held them. Without words, they had conveyed how the tsunamis had turned their lives upside down and inside out and then took most of what they had from them. However, today was a different day... there were literally hundreds of people from the village and they were enjoying the new fountain at the entrance to the beach, as well as the jungle gym equipment and the swings. We walked down to the water's edge and Melpo and I, along with Rajan's nephew, waded into the Indian Ocean.

We turned around and walked back toward the van, and witnessed a peaceful and magnificent sunset, as it dropped behind the repair shelter each of us had seen several months previous. The resiliant Indians had ocne again shown me that although we may possess more materially, they are rich in spirit and it was heartening to see smiles had returned to their uplifted faces. Only a few reminders remained from the devastation of a year before, one of which was the ower half of a gazebo that had been literally picked up by the waves and slammed against the beach, splitting it in half and then driving the roof several feet into the sand. Now what remained was a wonderful seat and platform, where villagers could enjoy the sights and sounds of the sea.

We dropped off Rajan and his family at their home and proceeded back to our hotel in Pondicherry. At the hotel, we enjoyed a wonderful dinner prepared especially for us by chef, Ragubabu. Since our arrival, Ragubabu has been so very pleased to have us staying here, that he has gone out of his way not only to prepare wonderful meals for each of us, but to include some of his specialties, and to join us occasionally at our table to talk about his future. London, you have a great treat in store for you in the coming year! Returning to our rooms, it did not take long for us to fall asleep, suffering a few aches and pains.