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Another venture to India - 2007

Dear Friends:

In about two weeks, I will be leaving again for a trip to India, along with several Rotarians from the eastern seaboard of the USA - Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Georgia, Florida and North Carolina. In order not to confuse the issue, I will be creating a new BLOG for this venture, and will post a link on here for you to navigate to the new BLOG.

We encourage you to contact us through the BLOG and to ask questions about what we are doing and where we are working.

Thank you for all of your support in our ongoing efforts to eradicate polio from the face of the earth, and to bring greater world understanding, thereby becoming architects for WORLD PEACE in the future.

Village Pannithittu - revisited

On the day we first arrived at Pannithittu Village, we were anxious, apprehensive and eager to see the village we had helped to pay for and what would be our "home" for the remainder of that week. Our first impression was embodied in a huge banner announcing the recent dedicatory ceremonies, which occurred in mid-December, 2005. As explained in an earlier journal entry, Pannithittu Village was the first in all of south India to be approved, and to be dedicated (actually prior to completion). Not only was Swami Chidanand Saraswatiji pleased with this, but also the various public servants, including Governor of Pondicherry, H.E. Lekhara, the Governor of Uttaranchal (and fellow Rotarian) H.E. Governor Agarwal, and so many others, not to mention the villagers themselves. The fortunate ones who were invited to occupy the first dozen or so homes must have been thrilled beyond comprehension.

Imagine for a moment that you and your family had your lives overturned, literally and figuratively, by an enormous and treacherous wave from the ocean, sweeping hundreds of family and friends out to sea, never to be seen again, and taking with it most if not all of your possessions. Once the initial shock had receded, along with the waves, you were relegated to live the best you could in a 10' x 10' shanty, constructed of sticks and palm fronds, with dirt floor. This would be your home for the coming twelve months, leaving you to wonder if you would ever be able to restore some normalcy and dignity to your lives. Heat came and you baked within the confines of your temporary shelter. Monsoons came and flooded your home, causing you to sleep and eat on the muddy floor. Winds came and you wondered (like the three little pigs of your childhood stories) whether or not your shanty could withstand them and remain upright.

After some eight or nine months, the families in this village were told that through the cooperative efforts of Project Hope, the India Heritage Research Foundation and Rotarians and Friends of Rotary from the USA and UK, we were going to construct 100 new homes, to be occupied by some of the families who had been permanently displaced. In mid-September,the land had been identified, acquired and paid for, and construction began at the site. Imagine that within three months time, most of the rough construction was completed and several of the homes were ready for occupancy!

One of the first sights we saw was a woman at the community well, pumping water into a bucket and cleaning recently caught fish. When she was through with this task, she purposely dropped the fish heads and entrails onto the ground to be quickly gobbled up by the free range hens which stayed under the shade of the enormous ficus tree, waiting until the woman left, before flocking to the newly dropped morsels. Nearly each morning, when we arrived and Kumar parked the coach beneath the same ficus tree, we witnessed the same daily chore being performed, or watched as one or two of the villagers came to the same water faucet and brushed their teeth or washed out a lunghi or a shirt, to be hung over a clothes line running from the same tree to the nearby house.

We proceeded through the enclave of homes, set in groups of eight buildings, containing sixteen units. We passed by the cement mixer, which had long since been "frozen" solid with leftover cement, that someone had failed to clean out properly the night before. One of the workmen worked diligently to chip away at the residue, in hopes of being able to use it to mix the cement and sand and stones, rather than having to accomplish the same task by hand. This was not to be, at least for the time we worked that week. However, as we passed and stacked some 15,000 bricks (Mark's estimate) during those days, we witnessed a team of young men who like a carefully choreographed ballet, attacked the piles of sand and cement and stones, making a tall cone with a moat, and filling the moat with water, and then mixing the contents in a musical rhythm, which could easily rival that of the mechanized mixer, had it been in working order.

On that last afternoon, when we returned to the village for one final look, the memories which had been crammed into one week - a week of considerable heat and dust and sweat, and yes, even a few tears - we were almost overwhelmed when we walked around the village homes, and gazed upon all of the work which had been accomplished during our "tour of duty". Outside steps leading up onto the flat roofs of the buildings, that would serve as patios for the occupants of the homes below, had been meticulously smoothed by one of the workers drawing a screed over the newly applied concrete mixture. Corrugated cement roofing sections had been attached to the framing set in place to create a shaded veranda in the front of each unit. Special roofing tiles had been poured and were to be placed onto the surface of the rooftops in order to create a pleasant sitting area for the famillies who would occupy the new homes. Ditches had been dug throughout the entire complex to provide proper sanitation through the use of septic tanks and toilets and lavatories at the back of each unit and that had been connected to the general system. Electrical systems had been brought into each of the units and soon lighting fixtures would be installed. One or two of the workmen had been working diligently on the assembling, sanding and staining of the frames which would house the louvers to be installed into each of the window openings. And much like the "A-TEAM" of American television, we were also pleased to state, "We LOVE it when a plan comes together!" Even one Western-style toilet had been installed in a unit close to the entrance to the village, to be used by visiting dignitaries who preferred this style to the typical Indian style toilet. Obvious to each of us was the fact that not only were the villagers eager to inhabit their new homes, but they also would welcome visits from each of those who so generously donated funds to pay for these homes.

From the rooftop patio of one of the homes, we could look about the entire village and assess the progress that had been made during our week of service. It was heartening to see that perhaps the augmentation to the labor force by Rotarians and Rotaractors definitely impacted on the progress made during that week. Although we may not have actually constructed the masonry walls, or installed the plumbing, or placed the louvered windows into the frames, we had provided a sufficient number of hard workers to continue the vital construction process of moving bricks and mortar into place, so others who might have had to do what we were doing could move to other areas which required their special talents, in order to complete the project sooner than later. Soon enough, the piles of sand which provided resting places for our team would be reduced to nothing more than a memory and replaced by plantings of shade tree saplings, or walkways to take the villagers down to the local beach for a swim or to welcome the fishermen back from the sea.

As each home is completed and dedicated and then occupied, it is our hope that somehow the families living within will know that people from the United States and England have generously contributed to their well-being by helping to pay for their homes. Perhaps, as naming plaques are affixed to the wall near the entrance to each home, the families will have some understanding of Rotary International and of the caring and service of Rotarians and Friends of Rotary from far reaches of the globe. Will some of them remember the week when Rotarians from Australia came and helped on the construction of their village? Will they remember the week when two Rotarians, once from the USA and one from England came, joined by a lovely young English girl who just wanted to volunteer, along with a dozen or so members of the nearby Rotaract Club, worked tirelessly to make a positive difference?

One often dreams of the future and wonders what will come to pass... will the villagers work together within their own cluster of homes to create garden spaces to raise some of their own crops? Will some of the ladies be able to learn stitching skills on sewing machines donated by Rotarians from other parts of the world, in order to supplement the family income, so folks are not solely dependent upon fishing for their livelihood? Will the children continue to attend the local schools and perhaps someday, strive beyond the geographical borders of their village to reach new goals that may take them to higher education to become the architects and the builders of other communities, or to become involved with various technologies with global impact? Someday, will this little community provide the workers to take care of the golf course and resort, which may be built adjacent to their picture postcard community? Who knows???

This year, the beginning of the Second Century of Rotary International, President Carl-Wilhelm Stenhammer has as his theme, one of the basic tenets of Rotary - SERVICE ABOVE SELF. In some small but significant way, Mark Little and I, along with Melpo and the members of the local Rotaract Club, sincerely hope that we have served others, placing their needs before our own, and that our week of work will prove to be of some value to these folks who have suffered so much, but who with smiles returned to their faces will move forward, reaching fwell into the future. Perhaps, someday, they too will have the opportunity to serve others.

Sunday evening, January 22, 2006

Following our meeting with the Governor of Pondicherry, we drove south for one last time. We stopped at the village where we had worked all week long, and assessed the progress which had been made from when we first arrived. (There will be a separate entry for this side-trip).

From there, we continued on to Cuddalore and went to the home of Arunachallam and his two sons, Rajan and Umasouthan. We had expected to meet all of them and have them ride with us to a very special dance program, which was sponsored by a dance master, who is currently the president-elect of one of the Rotary Clubs in Cuddalore. She had met us earlier in the week and personally invited us to attend. Her students ranged in age from about six years to sixteen. When we arrived at the home of Arunachallam, we were invited in for tea, but we told the two sons that we did not really have time for tea, if we were going to make the dance program on time. They told us their father had not yet returned home from another function, and we should come in and wait. We entered their yard, just as their father was arriving home, and so I wandered to the porch, where their grandfather, formerly a Brahmin priest, was sitting. He was pleased to see me, and although I speak no Tamil and he no English, we communicated well, and before I left, he took my hands in his and offered a prayer of thanksgiving and one for safe passage back to Delhi and then to home. His great-granddaughter, Ajita, told me he also prayed for my long life, and I thanked him.

Time to get back on our coach, along with the entire family, and head for the Dance program. Well, as usual, that was going to be delayed somewhat, because Arunachallam insisted that we attend (just for a minute or two) a handicrafts show, which was being held right down the street from where the dance program was. Naturally, if you attend a handicraft show, you can not simply poke your head in the door and then walk out, you must show proper respect and walk around, visiting all of the exhibitors' booths, and then go once more around to see if you want to purchase anything from them. I found one or two small items and we proceeded to leave, but had to join the line of patrons leaving, as the exhibitors did not take payment, but rather the person at the exit took all payments, once the items had been brought to them by a runner from the exhibitor's booth. It is really quite an efficient system, employing far more people than following western practices. We finally checked out and then walked back to the coach, which Kumar drove to the location for the dance program. We were concerned that we were very late, and that we would be interrupting the hall during a portion of the dancing, but to our amazement, the program had been held up awaiting our arrival. Another somewhat embarrassing moment...




When we entered the hall, we were greeted with blessings, a sprinkling of holy water from the Ganges River, and then escorted to our seats. We watched as tiny girls in very elaborate costumes were brought onto the stage and placed in what appeared to be giant lotus blossoms. They were each tucked down into a hiding position, to be brought out later on. In the meanwhile, as we sat in the front row, we watched as various chapters in the life of Dancing Shiva were depicted by the different age groups. The first chapter lasted for nearly a half hour, and when we looked at our programs, we noticed there were six chapters to be danced that evening and we were concerned that we would be leaving terribly late from Cuddalore to return to Pondicherry, to pack and prepare to leave very early the following morning. Since Arunachallam was sitting next to me, I turned to him and inquired if there might be a way we could leave very quietly and unobtrusively so we could return to Pondicherry. He told me he would check on it. When I turned to look across the aisle at Mark to bring him an update, I found that one of the youngsters from the village had found a perch on Mark's lap and was enjoying the program from that vantage point in the front row! How wonderful to see the innate trust in a little child, to know that she was safe sitting on the lap of a total stranger, without the least bit of hesitation. We could take a number of lessons from the Indian culture.

Word was passed on from Arunachallam to a young gentleman, who then spoke with the husband of the dance master, who then relayed the request back to the dance master, and then, in turn, word was passed back through the chain of command to Arunachallam, who informed me that we would be leaving quietly through the side exit within the next fifteen minutes. As I looked toward the exit, I was pleased to see the Rotarian from Cuddalore - Central who administers the orphanage, where we had taken the clothes the day before. She whispered to me that most of the children from the orphanage were upstairs in the balcony, enjoying the program, wearing their new clothes! Just as I thought we were ready to leave, the program was brought to a halt, and Arunachallam was invited to the stage. He began to speak, and in three languages - Tamil, Hindi and English. He proceeded to tell everyone (well over five hundred people attending) that he was welcoming us to the stage and introducing us. He told those gathered why we were there and what we had been doing all week in Pannithittu Village, and that through our efforts in the USA and UK, we had been able to raise funds to pay for nearly one-half of the one hundred permanent homes for the fishermen and their families in Pannithittu Village. This brought a round of applause. We were then presented with framed prints of several of the Hindu gods. So much for a quiet and unobtrusive exit, stage left!!!

We descended the steps from the stage, and as we were doing so, we looked to the back of the hall, and up into the balcony, where the children from the orphanage were waving to us, and calling to us to come upstairs to say one last goodbye. We went outside and along the colonnade, and then around to the other side of he building to be admitted to the balcony stairs. We all went upstairs and were greeted by the children, with many hugs and hanging on to our legs. They all had smiles on their faces and it was pretty difficult to simply turn and leave. We took a few photos and then Rajan told the children we had to leave. We said goodbye and told them we would be back again, someday. They knew we would return, but when was the question. I know Mark and I both plan to return to this part of India in future, whether it be with another work party, or just on our own. Plans are already in the works for future projects in other parts of India, but for each of us, I know that a part of our hearts remains with the children in Cuddalore. Farewell...

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Rotary Club of Pondicherry Beach Town

After breakfast and some postcard writing, Kumar met us at the entrance to the hotel and we drove south, as though we were going to return to Pannithittu, but stopped far short of that distance. We had been invited by Past District Governor Purushothaman and Club President Anil Kumar to participate in the dedication and distribution of several tricycles and wheeled chairs for disabled adults who live in the communities surrounding Pondicherry. Through the efforts of PDG Puru, as he is fondly called, tricycles made from recycled bicycle frames and other parts were purchased and shipped to Pondicherry especially for this day. Rotarians from Australia had fashioned the wheeled chairs from recycled parts and had also shipped a number of them to Pondicherry.

The tricycles are not what one would normally think of when remembering when we were youngsters and got our first set of wheels. These were going to serve the recipients as basic transportation, as well as a means to possibly travel the streets, and become productive members of society, where the recipients might possibly be able to create small businesses for themselves, selling items from their tricycles. Most of the recipients were victims of paralysis as a result of polio, and the paralysis affected the lower half of their bodies. With the tricycles, they would be able to “pedal” by using their hands and arms, rather than their frozen legs.

We had been contacted several times during the past several days by Club President Anil, and advised even as we were ready to depart from the hotel, that the program had been postponed by an hour. Evidently, PDG Puru, who resides in the city of Salem, in Tamil Nadu state, left his home at 5:00 in the morning, and rather than taking the normal three or four hours to drive, had taken well in excess of six hours! The highway system in India is being expanded, and therefore, construction work narrows the already overcrowded roadways, clogged with trucks hauling sand and cement, crushed stone, and all of the other components of building roads and bridges. This along with the normal everyday traffic caused serious delays for everyone.

We arrived at the site of the meeting – a wedding hall about fifteen minutes from the center of Pondicherry, and were greeted heartily by the Club President and other members and guests. We went upstairs in the hall and were reunited with our dear friend, PDG Puru. It was so good to see him again, particularly because he was so instrumental in facilitating the process of connecting with Swamiji, as well as shepherding our joint efforts for the construction of the homes in Village Pannithittu in an orderly manner. It was obvious to the three of us that he is highly respected and dearly loved by the Rotarians from his district. Also in attendance was another Past District Governor, PDG Balu, who had served his district in 2001-2002 when the theme for that year was MANKIND IS OUR BUSINESS. Although I had never met PDG Balu, it was as though we were old friends, meeting once again after the passing of time.

Once we had arrived and gotten somewhat settled, President Anil announced that we were only awaiting the arrival of the recipients of the tricycles and wheeled chairs. Due to the fact of it being Sunday, and moreover that these folks lived in a bit of a scattered pattern from the central part of Pondicherry, the Club had arranged to have them picked up by a rather large open bed truck, which went from village to village to meet them. About a half hour following our arrival, we heard the honking of a truck horn, and went to the upstairs balcony of the building to see the arrival of the truck carrying about a dozen of the recipients. Each was gently lifted from the bed of the truck and carried up the two flights of stairs to the meeting hall. A few of them were able to climb those stairs using only their hands and arms to lift them, one step at a time.

Everyone settled into his or her seat, and the program began. President Anil welcomed all of us, and asked that PDG Puru and I join him on the dais. We did and as is the tradition in India, we were each welcomed with ceremony and presented with a bouquet of flowers. There were a number of presentations and recognitions, and the program began. President Anil Kumar addressed those in attendance, speaking of this project and how it evolved. Past District Governor Balu was then introduced, and spoke not only of the project, but also of the creation of this Beach Town club. Originally, it was chartered during his term as District Governor, 2001-2002, and its members consisted only of people under the age of thirty-five. Initially, the idea caught the interest of so many young business owners and managers in the area. However, numbers dwindled a bit, until finally PDG Balu himself, joined this club, and invited several of his contemporaries to be a part of a very vital and vibrant Rotary Club. There is a great deal of enthusiasm within the membership, and they seem to take on one fundraising and/or community service project each month!

PDG Puru and I were in turn introduced and addressed those assembled, but were eager to get to the real purpose of the meeting – to dedicate and distribute the “tricycles” and the wheeled chairs to those who had been transported from the outreaches of Pondicherry. It was very heartening to see the appreciation on the faces of those who received these new means of transportation, and it was quite evident that those who were presented the tricycles, would be looking at them not only as a means of transportation, but also as the basis for becoming productive members of society, through use as commercial carts to sell vegetables or trinkets or other items to those who lived in their immediate areas.

Following the formal presentation, everyone adjourned to the lower level of the building and we were treated to a typical South Indian meal – served on banana leaves. During the week, I found I had become reasonably adept at eating with no utensils, but using only my right hand to gather up the food from the plate or the banana leaf. The meal was very hearty and delicious. We left following lunch and returned to our hotel.

During our stay in Pondicherry, we had attempted to arrange to meet with His Excellency, Lieutenant General (Ret.) Lekhara, Governor of the Union of Pondicherry. I decided to make one last attempt by calling his residence and speaking with his Aide de Camp. About mid-afternoon, I received a telephone call from his Aide and a meeting was arranged for that afternoon, at 3:45. We showered and dressed and Kumar drove to the governor’s residence. Due to the upcoming Republic Day celebrations, scheduled for January 26, barricades and checkpoints had been set up surrounding the governor’s residence for several blocks away. However, word must have been passed along, because we were cleared at each point and drove directly to the front gate of the residence. Additionally, taxis and private cars are relegated to park a few blocks away from the residence, but Kumar was allowed to park his vehicle directly across the street from the gate!

We presented our credentials and were escorted into the residence and upstairs to the private quarters. The formal reception room is located just off the private quarters, not so dissimilar from our own White House, and we were asked to sit and wait for the governor to appear. As a side note, I had met Governor Lekhara on a number of occasions this past year, in April 2005, and when our team was about to depart the area, he invited us to a reception and tea, and commended us upon our accomplishments. Governor Lekhara entered the room and greeted Mark and me very warmly and we introduced Melpo to him. We enjoyed tea and some very special snacks, including miniature samoosas, which the governor informed us, were only made at the residence.

There were a number of issues I wanted to discuss with the governor, most centered around the construction site at Pannithittu Village and the progress, which has been made, to the greatest credit of his intervention on the project. Being an independent union, Pondicherry seems to function with more efficiency. This can also be attributed to the fact that Governor Lekhara is a retired Lieutenant General from the Indian Army, and he is very decisive in the manner in which he carries out his duties. Land was quickly identified, purchased and the project begun much more quickly than most in Tamil Nadu. There are still areas, for example, where land is awaiting approval as a location for rebuilding homes, to say nothing of being purchased and cleared, so Governor Lekhara is to be commended and congratulated for his intervention. Mark, Melpo and I had considerable concern regarding the hygiene, which was not being observed by some of the villagers, the lack of toilets, and the lack of clean water. We discussed each of these topics and were assured by the governor that proper toilets were not only installed in each of the new one hundred homes where we had been working all week, but in addition, his government had subsidized the installation of toilets in several hundred homes which already exist in the area. This, along with some serious education, will make a tremendous impact upon the cleanliness of the area, thereby making the beach areas safer for people to walk on and enjoy.
Governor Lekhara thanked us for our continued involvement, and for the generous support shown by Rotarians and friends of Rotary from throughout the world, for the construction of these homes. We thanked him for his hospitality and his personal intervention in this project, and left to drive south again to Pannithittu Village for one last look.

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.