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.