If you are reading this, chances are, you are very lucky too.
By accident of your birth, you are fortunate enough to have internet to be reading this. I bet you have a roof over your head, food on your table, shoes on your feet, water in your house, a toilet to use, a mattress on a bed. You aren’t worrying about your child being taken away for the slave trade, if tonight you will be too hot, or too cold, if it rains, how will you keep dry, or if you get hurt or fall ill, will you have the ability or strength to get to a hospital.
If you are busying comparing and contrasting what you don’t have. What you want. What the Jones have and you wish you had, then you might not feel so lucky, but you are.
It also is ground zero for some very special, tireless, passionate workers in a variety of capacities to help those who do not have a voice. Such a group is working at Duncan Community Hospital. This is the hospital that was our home for 5 days, and I can honestly say it changed all of us.
Thirteen students, a fellow teacher, Amrita John, and myself boarded a bus, to take us to a train, to get to another train to make it to our ultimate destination, Raxaul, Bihar. Home of Duncan Community Hospital. It was suppose to be about 29 hours of travel time all told, but after a couple of train delays it turned into 36 hours.
There is only one train a week to Raxual, so we had no options on when we could arrive. So we started our adventure, at Duncan on a Saturday but the field projects we were to see only happened on the weekdays. Saturday and Sunday were light but interesting days, and gave us a chance to catch our breath before the week started.
Saturday we were welcomed to Duncan by the Managing Director, and then proceeded to have Dr Vandana, who had been my point person in this, explain a little about the week ahead, and introduce us to Dr Mini Issac. Dr Mini would be taking us on a tour of the hospital.
Off we went. Through a small maze of red brick walls we emerged into an outside waiting area that people milled about, waiting. Some were camping out with pots on propane burners, blankets over concrete, biding their time. Waiting. Waiting for what I couldn’t say exactly, if it was to see a Dr, to be admitted, waiting on a family member inside. I was told that if they got news it would be a wait for someone or something, they would go and get supplies so they could cook, eat and sleep on the grounds. This was an area I was asked not to take pictures in, so I am not able to show what this area was like but a I did ask a a gentleman and his little girl if I could take their picture and they did agree, but it doesn’t show the area as a whole.
In short it was a glorified driveway with building on either side and some room to turn a vehicle or two around in, with some side areas that were covered that those who were “camping out” stayed in, while the others sat, walked around, and bided their time, waiting.
Dr Mini, a short generous lady with a broad smile took us to the Casualty Room, also known as the Emergency Room. Four or five very basic hospital beds lined one side of the wall, and three on the other, each with free cotton pillow, mattress and sheets. A couple of bodies laid on the stretchers being attended too. Out the other side of the room we went, through a few more of the red brick maze like hallways, through a courtyard with an awning over our heads we went to the main hospital.
By far the hospital was the most modern looking building we had seen, with a large lobby, strewn with bodies lying here and there. Even though there were plenty of empty seats they preferred to sit or lie on the floor wrapped in colorful shawls and blankets.
Unadorned mostly white with some black trim here and there, it was stark, institutional looking, and practical. If I recall correctly it was a three story structure and on the first floor was the most active of floors. The maternity ward.
We were shown the fragile newborns in incubators. Some whose skin looked like it was plastic or made from clay. Some so tiny its hard to believe they were delivered already. Some struggling to breath, clinging to life with their tiny little fingers and their sheer will to live. We saw a room of new mothers, whose babies were being cared for because of one reason or another. One very young looking girl pacing the floor, her gown still bloodied we were told was listed as 13 years old, but the girl didn’t know her birthday or age, but we call felt she was younger than 13.
Another room of young mothers who had their healthy babies with them, complete with female family members in tow. Holding the babies, and recovering. One of the girls from our groups was paying attention to one of the newborns, as mother and grandmother looked on for a bit before asking if she liked the baby, and then offering the child to her to take with her.
A potent moment to say the least. In some respects it can be seen as cruel, to offer your baby to a stranger, but I feel it was moms way offering a chance for her child to have a better life, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless.
On through to ICU. There was a 13 year old boy who drank insecticide in a suicide attempt. A common way of to try and end it since insecticides are readily available. While it didn’t end his life, he will now be paralyzed for the next month or so while his nerve endings reclaimed their use. A 10 year old girl whose dehydration was so severe that she almost died. Her diarrhea so bad it was sapping her vital liquids. The bad water in the area made this a common occurrence. A few more laid in bed fairly motionless.
We met a boy with cerebral palsy whose parents abandoned him in the hospital 6 years ago. To this day he lives at the nurses station with them taking care of him, giving him the love and attention he needs.
It occurred to me, from the look on her face that the student hadn’t yet internalized that the building we were in housed life and death, and that for some the thread holding them onto life was thin and fraying.
After our tour ended we went to lunch and had the rest of the evening to ourselves. Back in my basic room, I had a cold shower (there was no hot water available) and started downloading pictures from the day. Later, as a group we came together to reflect on the days events. The students proved to be insightful each night, sharing their thoughts in a meaningful way.
Dr Christo who we had met along the way had invited us to join him that evening in the casualty room in groups of 3 or 4 students. After dinner some of us would go to the casualty room and watch what would unfold in the evening.
When we arrived several of the beds were taken, as Dr Christo explained what was the issue with each. One small girl, perhaps 6 years old, had tripped while running and bit through most of her tongue. He was just waiting for the sedative to take hold before her would stitch it back together and we were welcomed to watch. Which we did, and the second group arrived while the stitching was happening.
I didn’t go each evening so that others could go, and I was working on the photos and videos each night as well, but I witnessed a C section one evening. We all where in Dr scrubs and masks, watched in amazement as a little life was brought into this world. Three lady doctors working on a young lady and then stitched up her uterus.
Having a boy baby is crucial to the Indian family unit. So much so that female infanticide is a far too common occurrence. Prenatal health care workers aren’t allowed to reveal the babies gender because they fear abortions for the females babies. While having to kill a child you can see with your eyes might deter some, it doesn’t stop it. One of the evenings the group that went to the hospital saw a newborn being given to the father. The first thing he did was to open the swaddling to see the babies sex. When he was it was a boy he profusely gave thanks to God on the spot.
One of the girls was told about the village midwives and their pay structure. If they delivered a boy they would get 200 rupees and a new sari. If they delivered a live girl baby, she got 20 rupees. If she delivered a dead baby girl they received 150 rupees. Talk about information that brought up discussions.
My western mind was doing flip flops honestly. It seemed to me there was a natural bond between mother and child and regardless of gender it was there and not easily broken and I asked about that as the hospital. The doctor informed me that they had found babies whose mothers had tied tourniquets around the babies necks and swaddled them back up. The nurses noticing the babies turning blue would then rescue them. But to what fate of course remains unclear and perhaps best not to think about. For thousands of years this has been in practice and it comes down to economics and livelihood, but slowly the tide is turning.
Duncan is helping with education across the spectrum and it would be silly to suggest the credit is all theirs, they do provide information to the populous that wouldn’t otherwise have it. The Bihar family has dropped from about 8-9 kids, to 4-5 kids, so its trending in the right direction.
We walked to the colony and through a variety of clusters of homes here and there. Between patchworks of green fields and garbage piles. When we arrived we were met by the lady who ran the place. She exuded a kind of stoic warmth that impressed all of us. Later we learned she would drive delivery trucks which is unusual for a woman to do in India. She apparently came from a very well to do family and has had a suitor from a royal family asking for her hand in marriage for years but she has given up the trappings of things and has found her home helping at the colony.
We saw the spinners spinning their thread and those working the looms with a loud and regular clacking of the wood as it pushed weft of thread into place. Sadly the store was closed but shortly we were sidetracked. Turns out Nepal was literally just across the stream and soon there was a push to see about visiting Nepal. So off we went to the border.
Winding our way back from the way we came a young boy picked up beside me and started chatting in broken english. Apparently old white guys with grey hair who lug around cameras get a lot of attention here because this happened a few times.
We walked to the colony and through a variety of clusters of homes here and there. Between patchworks of green fields and garbage piles. When we arrived we were met by the lady who ran the place. She exuded a kind of stoic warmth that impressed all of us. Later we learned she would drive delivery trucks which is unusual for a woman to do in India. She apparently came from a very well to do family and has had a suitor from a royal family asking for her hand in marriage for years but she has given up the trappings of things and has found her home helping at the colony.
We saw the spinners spinning their thread and those working the looms with a loud and regular clacking of the wood as it pushed weft of thread into place. Sadly the store was closed but shortly we were sidetracked. Turns out Nepal was literally just across the stream and soon there was a push to see about visiting Nepal. So off we went to the border.
Winding our way back from the way we came a young boy picked up beside me and started chatting in broken english. Apparently old white guys with grey hair who lug around cameras get a lot of attention here because this happened a few times.
If you have seen the videos from the bazaar in Mussoorie, you know it can get crowded, well the Nepal/India border crossing on a Sunday puts that to shame! Pack was an understatement. Cars, trucks, oxen carts, even bikes, just parked in the road way, waiting for some movement. India and Nepal have an open border for each others citizens so there is a lot of activity through the area on a slow day, but its even worse on a Sunday.
As it turns out we couldn’t get in. We didn’t have passports for everyone and the copies we did have didn’t suit the border crossing police, so we were turned away. Heading to the bazaar now the congestion got more and more, thicker and thicker until we were barely moving. Trying to keep track of 13 teenagers isn’t easy to begin with, let alone when you are in such a crowd. Some of the students started to complain about the crowd, the noise, the smell, the dust and we finally opted to head back. Even that was no easy task.
There was a girl in the group that had lost both an arm and a leg. When she was about 2 she and her friends were playing around the railroad tracks and a train came. Everyone else got up and moved away, leaving the 2 year old there. I am not sure how she survived, but she did. Her mother now helps with the CBR group in her village, volunteering her time, along with a couple of other ladies to give these children a place to go, and to get some schooling.
Schools as a whole aren’t equipped to deal with special needs. Going to school isn’t a given like many countries. I found out that even teachers on the government payroll often just don’t show up. Girls generally don’t get a chance to go to school. Getting an education isn’t valued by many, but its something that Duncan is trying to help change.
The school itself was 10 x 20 without chairs, table, electricity or a bathroom. A concrete block but its giving the students and the teachers a place to be, a purpose, and a way to feel like they are a family. Like so much we saw, it was both inspiring and depressing.
We were able to talk with the parents through a translator. As a westerner I am very conscious about feeling like I have the answers for them when I know so very little. My thoughts always go to a documentary that I saw, and while I am hazy about the specifics its something like this.
A group of western do gooders (with the best intentions, that isn’t a flippant line) were in (I believe) Central America somewhere, and noticed that the villages didn’t have electricity. To their western eyes that was unconscionable. I forget it they ran lines, or windmills, solar or whatever, but they goto the villages electricity. Now they can do all the wonderful things that westerners do to make their lives easier.
And they did. Most spent half a years income to purchase a brand new TV, and they sat in front of it. What work had been getting accomplished stopped. Always with this in the back of my mind I approached other cultures and people in different circumstances.
In their school I saw empty light sockets and wondered. I saw very few toys, and I wondered. I saw they went outside to use the bathroom in a concrete courtyard, and I wondered. Without chairs or tables, I wondered. Finally when I was able to ask, what would help them, their answer was first more room. We can’t help with that. Their second response was to have mats they could sit on in the winter. The concrete floor got very cold, and made it hard to do good work.
Yes, as westerner would jump up and say, “Hey, what about a table and chairs, you will be off the ground!” but as I have seen and learned in my short time here, is that sitting or crouching on the ground is just the way they do things. All ages, all shapes and sizes, the sit, lie and crouch on the ground before choosing a chair in most cases.
Mats, I never would have thought this would be their answer. Asking about the electricity they replied that the landlord is suppose to supply lightbulbs but hasn’t, but its not that big of a deal.
What about a composting toilet? Open defecation is common in India. The more rural you get the more you see it, and their bathroom break was outside the room. Drop your drawers and do your business. Even the current PM had a campaign slogan of “Take your poo, to the loo” to address this.
Most don’t have indoor plumbing, but I was shocked to learn a few more tidbits. The father of a boy with autism related that many that have indoor plumbing and bathrooms still prefer to to outside, because it “gets it out of the house” Its hard to wrap my mind around because that is what flushing does, but many feel its a dirty place and would just rather leave it away from the house completely. Its been happening like this for thousands of years, its cultural, its ingrained and it will be an uphill battle to change this habit, but for their health it needs to change.
The ground water in Raxual is about 5 feet below the surface. Approximately 80% of the houses get their water from water pumps. What the people, and animals dump into the ground comes back to them in the water. This is why we only drink filtered or bottled water.
The connection between the teachers and students were strong. It was a place of comfort and learning. Reading of books, playing with blocks, learning numbers by using plastic animals. They kept strict records recording how each progressed.
The father of the autistic boy told how his son has been very forceful in how he dealt with things before the school. Being around the other students, other adults has allowed him to help get the social conditioning to see how others act. They hold, they don’t grab. They ask, they don’t take. Admittedly he did grab my camera and the girl who was video tapings camera as well, but it was more out of curiosity. While a bit rough, we were told before he would generally break things.
Having worked with a lot of special needs kids I know how important it is to celebrate this small milestones. Here in this environment he was able to be rewarded and cheered and clapped for when he did the right thing. It is changing his life.
After generally a late lunch we would return to our spartan dorm like rooms for a bit to decompress. Before dinner we would have time to reflect on the day, sharing what happened at each field project, both good and bad. Each night I think we all felt a little luckier to have been born in our individual circumstances.
The children, girls in front, boys in back, lined up in a few rows were told about being careful with strangers. (somethings don’t change between cultures) They were given positive messages that the girls didn’t have to marry at 12 and 13, that they could tell their parents they wanted to wait. That they would have a life that different than those before the.
Villagers lined up behind the children as the Duncan field workers came up one by one and gave what is best described as a kind of pep talk. Since I couldn’t understand the language it wasn’t possible to get the true sense of the words, but it was to inform and to encourage we were told.
Later we had a little Q&A with the students. In the states one of the things you ask young students is what they wanted to be when they grew up, but I first asked the field worker if that was appropriate. Do they have role models? Do they think about life besides just subsistence? Its one of the questions that the field workers have put to them and keep asking them to keep focused on their future. Many teachers, and doctors between the boys and girls. A colonel in the military and a bank manager. It was heartening to see.
One of the field guides said that a couple of very young children wanted their picture taken so I took them for them as well. Continuing on to the next stop was always a bit carnival like. Between mud and straw houses, dirt roads, chickens here, goats there, lots of kids trying to figure out just what these strangers were up too.
We met with a groups of village ladies that had been affected in someway by the slave trade. One woman explained how her son was taken when he was 10 years old. At the age of 13 he visited briefly and said he couldn’t stay, but he was making garments and just wanted to visit, but staying was impossible. Why, was never stated, or at least told to us, but the implication was bad things would happen to him and/or his family if he didn’t return.
The visit was cut short because thunder was being heard and the clouds looked ready to burst. A cyclone fairly far south from us, had stirred up the weather, so we were being cautious. Before we had packed up, the boy who had been shadowing me continued to do so. Without a word he watched me. Calling him over I put the camera strap around his neck and showed him as best as I could what to do with the camera.
You would swear her had won the lottery. He was so excited. So happy. There is something about cameras here. When I shoot video I hold the camera in a way that I can see the LCD and you get a crowd watching the LCD with you. I have had so many people ask to have pictures taken with us. I think there are more pictures of me in India then in the States. The ladies are particularly wanted for pictures.
There we watched a group of ladies making laundry soap. This soap they have sold in the area and have sold enough to buy some cattle. This cattle they use to work their fields.
Next we visited a young woman who one of the field workers helped learn how to tailor. She now has the business from her and the surrounding villages. She now has an apprentice as well.
The last night we gave a presentation to our guests at Duncan and gave them small token of our appreciation. A homemade card signed by us all, and a chocolate.
Feeling very lucky and fortunate, but forever changed.
Shootin' shotgun....
Since many of the images weren't the best quality for that reason, I wanted to give them their own section. They show and lend a certain flavor and feel about where we were and the environment it was. From lush green to people using the roadside as their showers and toilets and everything in between.