School Supplies

Although things are generally cheaper in India than Canada or the States, $50/month is still really hard to live on.  That's how much the minimum wage here is.  Jobs that make $50/month include daily wage farm labourers, government street cleaners, and some construction labourers.  A bus ticket costs around 25 cents, a bottle of coke around 60 cents, and a loaf of bread 50 cents.  However, rice is 1/2 of the price it is in Canada, and it is the staple food of South India.  Luxury items like TVs, washing machines, data projectors, and laptops are the same as Canada, if not more costly. 

My heart breaks when I see children so excited about small things.  Some of the children come 1h early to the school in the HMJC compound, so once I gave them some children’s books to read.  When the 2 boys saw the books, they exclaimed, “Books!” and looked at each other in delight.  There are libraries in the cities, but here in the country side, books are scarce.  In fact, I even went to the big city 3h away from here (it’s one of the 3 biggest cities in this state) and I couldn’t find a decent bookstore.  All the bookstores only sell school textbooks and workbooks. 

The children are also super excited about paper and markers.  (“sketches,” they call them)  When they saw some markers in the office, they begged to have them, and how could I resist?  I am always for children having art supplies.  Actually, the markers were bought for our village outreaches to even more remote places.  Places that don’t have stores.  Although we have stores in our town, a lot of families can’t afford markers or fancy school supplies for their children.  The kids in our free village school (taught by a volunteer teacher and held in our compound) all practice their ABC’s and 123’s on blackboard slates. 

Today I noticed a 6-year-old boy carrying his notebooks, slate, and chalk in a plastic bag marked “corn feed.”  I’m guessing his family can’t afford a backpack.  He comes from a difficult family background.  One of his parents was unfaithful and gave HIV to the other.  His father has a drinking problem and doesn’t come home in months. 

I hope I’ll never become desensitized to the suffering and challenges of others.  I just see so much, but I don’t want it to ever become acceptable in my mind.  The cry to stand up for justice and to ensure everyone has the human rights (see http://www.humanrights.com/) they’re entitled to should always resound in my heart and feed my determination to make a difference in a life.

Ganesh

I take my buckets down to the outdoor tap the minute I wake up because a) there's only running water from 6-12pm; and b) I want to use the relatively warm tap water to shower instead of water that has gotten super cold from sitting in my bathroom overnight.


I return to my room, and within minutes, the buckets return to my room full.  Once again, Ganesh takes the initiative to serve others.  He's 18 and in gr.8.  He had epilepsy and as a result of his seizures, he couldn't attend school for 6 years.  He started school late and has difficulty speaking clearly.  No matter what curve balls life has thrown at him, Ganesh has a wonderful heart of service.  When it rains or when it's windy, a whole bunch of leaves and dirt get deposited on the veranda outside my room.  Every time he carries water to my room (I don't have running water) and finds the tiled veranda dirty, he asks me if I want him to clean it.  I tell him that he can if he wants to, but I can do it myself.  He then proceeds to clean the veranda joyfully and thoroughly.

When he sees me filling a bucket with water to wash my clothes, he asks, "soap" and gets me the detergent.  When he sees me squeezing water out of towels or bedsheets, he runs to help me.  He has such a gift of service, and what's more amazing is that he's always joyful when he's serving others.  So many times I'll hear him singing or humming as he's doing chores or running errands.

Ganesh is also very earnest and diligent.  Even when facing mundane tasks that the teacher gives him for homework like copying paragraphs, he concentrates on the task and does not get distracted when the other kids are talking.  We started reading Genesis during group devotions and he was so into the Word that he read ahead.  When I was doing laundry, he came over to me and started summarizing Abram’s life.  This morning we carried water together up to my second-story room twice and both times, he continued summarizing what he read. 

One time, I asked about his family and found out that when he was really young his dad left his mom.  Later on, he got married to someone else and they started a family.  His mom works at a college as a janitor.  She works from 4am-7pm every day, but is only compensated $50/month.  Ganesh’s dad doesn’t really contact him & the last time he saw him was 4 years ago.  From what I know, most children of divorced families don’t have the privilege of spending time with both parents in this culture.  Because Ganesh’s mom works such long hours and she makes so little, she sent him to stay at our children’s home.  


Ganesh is just one of the kids I’m able to learn from.  I’m learning how to serve more and how to go to that lowest place of humility.  I'm learning how to be content with less.  These kids are so wonderful, and I’m incredibly privileged to be taking care of them!

Candle Suicides

After 5 weeks of living here, I've come into contact with a disturbing phenomenon.  The mother of someone we know had to bear some terrible insults from a neighbour.  The next morning, she pours oil over herself at 4:30 and sets herself on fire.  When she was rushed to the hospital, the doctor said that she only had 10% chance of survival.  She passed away the next day.

6 days later, we arrive at the school site at 7am when one of our skilled workers comes up to me and says that he has some serious family business and he needs to leave right away.  He jumped on the auto to travel for another 45min to get home.  The next day I heard that his whole family rushed to the hospital at a nearby city.  Another case of 3^rd degree burns, but this time the 19-year-old had 5% chance of survival.  The worker’s wife’s niece was caught in a kitchen “accident” and whole house burned down.  Her 3-month-old baby boy was rescued out of the fire in time, so he just suffered from breathing in smoke.  This young mother was conscious at the hospital and apparently she kept saying, “I don’t know why I did it.”  Her death was filed as an accidental death, but she most likely committed suicide.  I can’t help but wonder what prompted her to take such drastic measures.  In-law issues?  Abusive husband?  Postpartum depression?  I don’t even know if most people in the countryside know what postpartum depression is.

How do we go about addressing such issues?  Why do people commit suicide so easily?  Is it because they believe in rebirth?  Is it because they lack a strong understanding support network?  Once again, I have questions, but no answers.  All I know is that we need to educate children from a young age the value of life and share with them the hope that is in Christ.  The enemy comes to steal, kill, and destroy, but Jesus came to give us life and life more abundantly.  

Incredible

          I'm sitting on a concrete veranda surrounded by 2 stray puppies that have taken refuge with us.  As I look up from my notebook, I see a 4-acre field fenced in by palm trees and bushes.  Workers are bustling all around me, carrying concrete to the maistrees (skilled construction workers) who will first build walls to make dormitory rooms using mortar and brick before plastering it the next day using a mixture of water, fine sand, and cement powder.
           I glance down at my notebook and furrow my eyebrows as I try to imagine my elementary classroom.  What furniture did we have?  What supplies did the teacher always keep in her cupboard?  What lined the shelves under the wall-to-wall window?  This is incredible.  I’m making a shopping list for a boarding school.  A boarding school!  I’ve always made lists for myself.  The biggest shopping list I made was for a 5-day camping trip my friends and I went on.  I’ve never even furnished a house before.  But here I am, trying to figure out all the equipment, furniture, utensils, and supplies we need for classrooms, offices, a kitchen, a cafeteria, and dormitory rooms.  You’ve got to be kidding me.   Who am I?

            A day later, I stay at home to spend more time on the computer.  This time, I’m making orientation stuff for teachers and house parents.  I’m drawing up a list of rules and regulations for students & staff.  I’m designing a daily schedule for the boarding students.  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Who am I?

Nobody.  A newbie teacher with only 3 years of experience and absolutely no administrative experience.  God truly doesn’t choose to always use the experienced, strong, and equipped.  He uses the available, the weak, those who will depend on Him for everything.  This reminds me of the verse Rachel gave me in which Jeremiah said, “I am only a child.”  Yes, I am a child and I am weak, but when I am weak, I am strong because of Christ who lives within me.

A day in the life of Anita

Ok, I am involved in many different activities, but this is what a typical day in my life might look like.

5:10 5:45 7:00 7:30 9:30 10:00-1:30 2:30 3:30 4:30 5:30 7:00 9:30 10:00 10:30

Wake up & get ready for work Jump into the car to drive for an hour through the countryside to get to the remote area where we’re building the school Arrive at school & feed the stray puppies that showed up a few months ago “Water” the concrete.  This needs to happen when you lay concrete beams, build concrete pillars, & use bricks and mortar to construct walls to strengthen your construction. (Meanwhile, there is a regular power cut from 7:30-9:30 happening at home to help everyone conserve electricity) Finish watering the concrete & break time Carry concrete to pillars to fill the metal supporting structures (usually this is done by one of those concrete trucks that turn constantly, but without the budget to fund such fancy equipment, everything is done by manpower & womanpower) Water break Work.  This time I gather all the concrete bags and roll them in 20’s.  Later on, we can take the bags to a mat stitcher and they will stitch all the bags into a giant mat for us to place on the church floor for people to sit on. Water break Feed the dogs Soak towels & any available large pieces of cloth in water & hang across open windows so there can be free AC when we drive (I love how utilitarian Indians are!) Arrive home & have lunch.  Darn, during lunch suddenly the lights go out, the fan stops turning, and the fridge starts whirling.  We’re in for another 2-3h power cut.  Do laundry.  Easy, right?  Wrong!  This involves bringing my clothes downstairs in my bucket to our water tank and soaking them in soapy water.  Then I hand wash all the items (outdoors, of course), dump out the murky water, use a pail to refill my bucket with water from the water tank.  Slosh clothes around the bucket, pour out water, refill water.  Repeat 2 more times.  Carry the bucket of cleanish clothes (since I only started hand washing clothes 8 months ago, I’m not that expert at it yet) 4m away to the clothesline to discover that it already has clothes drying on it.  Carry clothes for another 4m to hang.  Return the stool to the kitchen, rinse out the buckets, fill my bucket water to bring back upstairs to store in my attached bathroom—or shall I say, toilet.  Peel mangoes to make a lassi.  Actually, many lassis.  I have to get the pulp out of at least 6 mangoes and use at least 1L of curd to make lassis for all the people that live in this courtyard-style house (the pastor and his family). Chillax, read, turn on the modem to check if the internet is working (I probably have internet working 1 day/week or so if I’m lucky) Leave to attend a cottage meeting, which is usually at least 30min away in another village and at a believer’s house.  This means we sit on a mat stitched out of rice or concrete bags under the starry night.  Sometimes we have a tarp over our heads and sometimes not.  Usually we have a light bulb to illuminate Bibles. The prayer meeting ends & the believer provides dinner to the pastor & other VIP individuals.  This happens when the cottage meeting occurs to celebrate an occasion like a birthday, one’s coming-of-age (which is determined by when girls 1st have their periods), etc.  After dinner, we pray for the family and their household. Leave for home. Arrive home, get ready for bed, hit the sack.

Randomness

Ok, here are a whole bunch of random things that have crossed my mind since I arrived in India 2 weeks ago:

Dance

I love Indian dance culture!  We’ve been dancing in the streets before our open air meetings and during our 24h worship sessions, and I absolutely love how people of all ages get involved.  I love how it’s not sexualized the way it is in the West.  Granted, there are certain types of dancing that are sexualized, but the general type of dance that the average kid and youth do is just pure fun.

Sharing

I like how people here really look out for others.  If they have a cookie, they’ll snap it in half to share with you.  If they have a bottle of pop, they’ll give you a sip.  The only thing is that sometimes I don’t like to share.  The other day, we ran out of drinking water at the pastor’s house where we were eating.  I was about to go out to buy a bottle, but one of the guys bought it for me.  I was glad to be served by a gallant gentleman, but at the same time, I secretly was a little unhappy that I’d have to share the 1L of water with 15 people since he’d be bringing the water back directly to where the DTS team was (yes, I’m a great team player!).  When he came back, I made myself drink half the bottle before passing it off.  Needless to say, they finished it off for me.  The next time I was thirsty, I snuck out, bought myself a bottle, and drank the whole liter before going back to join the team.  Yes, I am a little stingy.

The Girl from the Village

I was sitting in church, looking out the door when I saw this 10-year-old girl with special needs on the ground, her navy blue skirt dusty.  A slightly younger girl, maybe eight, pulled hard on her right hand while a five-year-old pulled at her left hand, as if trying to lift her up.  As I continued to observe, I saw a three-year-old tug hard at her feet.  The girl with the learning disability was grinning at the others.  When the younger girls failed to lift her up, one of them began using her fists to pound on the head of the girl with special needs. 

That’s when I leapt to my feet, ran out the door without pausing to put on my sandals and grabbed the hands of the younger girls.  I found out that all 3 of them were hitting her.  The girl with a learning disability couldn’t speak clearly, and even if she could, my Telugu is too limited, but I can imagine that those same girls were the ones that pushed her to the ground.  Infuriated, I reprimanded them sharply and told them repeatedly, “no hitting.”  The girls still had little smirks on their faces, so I asked a friend to come and translate for me. 

It always amazes me how cruel children can be sometimes.  Cruelty and bullying—especially to those who are weak and unable to stand up for themselves—is something I absolutely detest. 

Just in case you didn’t know…

Even if you drink 4L of water, you probably don’t have to go to the washroom when the temperature is 40C because you sweat it all out.  Seriously.

A buffalo here generally gives 15-20L of milk per day and they cost around $1300+

The best cleaner and the only one that is free is ants.  What other product will diligently run around and sniff out all the crumbs and dead insects to remove?  What other product will work day in and day out removing the undesirable items from your floor?

Sweat stings when it drips into your eyes.

Corrugated roofs make the room HOT.  Thatched roofs and concrete roofs are less hot.  It’s even better if you have a false ceiling instead of your ceiling being the roof.

When it’s 40+ degrees in the day time, your bed sheets will feel like they’ve been just taken out of the dryer even at midnight.

It sucks being a girl because then you get extra bad heat rash in places where you have to wear an extra layer of clothing.

When it’s 47C out, and you’re under the sun, wind blowing in your face is not that fun.  It feels like you’ve just opened the oven to take out the roast beef and the heat has come surging out to the point of singeing your eyelashes.

Your arms can sweat, your legs can sweat, your face and neck can REALLY sweat, and even your feet can sweat.  Oh, did I mention your bottom?

Chameleons have really cool hands.  It looks like they’re wearing mittens.  Their eyes look like skin covered volcanoes with a little black opening at the peak.

It is possible to dance in the pitch dark without anyone getting hurt. 

The sweetest sound on earth is when you hear water dripping into a bucket after 36h of no water coming from the taps.  4h of continuous water flow a day is surely not too much to ask, is it?

The most joyful shout people make is when the refrigerator starts humming, the fan starts whirling, and the lights turn out.  “Electricity’s here!”

The grossest thing is when you have an open cut on your foot, and it starts stinging like crazy.  You look down to discover that it is black.  You bend down to discover that there are a whole bunch of fruit flies (that’s what they look like) that have landed on your foot to drink deep of your pus.

Ok, I lied.  The grossest thing on earth is to open your bedroom door to discover ants swarming around a dead baby lizard.  There are so many ants that they formed a circle around the lizard.  I didn’t want to deal with it, and everyone else was asleep by then, so I left it till morning.  By then, only the head and an arm was left.

All that being said, I'm still loving it here and I feel like I'm doing what I was made to do.

The Little Girl

“Can I sleep beside you tonight?”

This query from an eight-year-old girl startled me.  I opened my eyes and looked at her round face fringed by straight bangs.

“Well, why don’t you stay in yours?  Look, your bed is just beneath mine.  See how close we are?”

I closed my eyes and continued praying.  The little girl’s younger sister then came to tell me her sister was crying.  I climb down to ground level and put my arm around the silently sobbing girl.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

After a pause, she looks up at me.  “I miss my mom.  I miss my mom every day.”

She then put her head down and continued crying.  I laid my head on her shoulder and couldn’t help but grieve with her.  Later that night, she woke me up several times to ask if she could climb into my bed, and I finally conceded at dawn.  She then lay down beside me, snuggled against me, and promptly fell asleep.

I remember when she came to the children’s home with her 3 sisters.  I was volunteering at this children’s home in the winter of 2009 when they came.  Their mom had passed away from liver failure and other complications. 

This incident caused me to ponder about raising orphaned children.  How do we replace their parents’ love?  Is that even possible?  What does it mean to be a surrogate parent?  I do not claim to know the answer to any of the questions, but I do know one thing: love is the most important thing we can give a child, more than toys, fancy clothes, and delectable food.

My Trek to Work

Squinting, I peer through the sheet of rain to see if the light has changed.  The minute it turns green, I put my full weight on the pedals, hoping to quickly get out of the torrential downpour.  The rain bounces off the pavement, but flows in streams down the disposal yellow raincoat I had hastily thrown on and stopping only at boggy land—my jeans!  The plastic raincoat hugs my skin like saran wrap, sweat on the inside, rain on the outside.  When I go full speed, the rain pelts harder, and I can barely keep my eyes open in the liquid assault.  I breathe in air in short gasps like a swimmer surfacing for precious air and sputter to ensure I don't swallow any water.  I pass a few bikes and even a slow scooter.  Biking beside scooters and cars and dodging buses pulling into their stops has given me the right amount of adrenalin.  

 Finally, I arrive at my destination to wait for 908, the bus that will take me to Sanxia for my 90min par-time job.  The bus arrives.  I swipe my wallet (it contains a magnetized transit card) against the machine and stand beside an empty seat.  I carefully peel off my yellow plastic skin without dripping onto the seat and plop down for a long ride to Sanxia.  I become a human humidifier in my air-conditioned classroom.  My jeans dry by the time I finish class, but my raincoat is still dripping away.  Ironic, eh? 

Why did I take this job?  Why do I spend so much time travelling for such a short time of teaching?  Before I took the job, the verse from 1 Thess really spoke to me: "make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. "  (11-12)  I told God that I'm willing to go anywhere to work, but He had to open doors for me. 

The next day, I got a follow-up call from the English academy I had an interview at earlier that week.  The wanted me to teach for 90min a day.  I quickly accepted, as I knew this was the job God wanted me to take despite the fact that it didn’t make sense to travel for around 2 hours to teach for 90min.  I know I can trust in Him even when things don't make sense the way a child trusts his/her parent even though medicine might taste funny.

Thus began my daily trek to Sanxia.  The fare for a roundtrip bus ride was $3 because I had to take 2 different buses, but to save $1/day, I decided to ride to the bus that took me straight to Sanxia.  If I save a dollar a day, I can afford to feed a child for a month in India or I could pay for fruit for 8 kids for a month.  And thus began my trek to Sanxia.  I like biking to 908 because I get exercise and I can save time not having to wait between buses.  The fun begins when it rains though.  For whatever reason, there are frequent afternoon showers in Taipei.  For whatever reason, more often than not, these showers begin when I’m in the middle of my bike ride or just half an hour before.

I’m gonna miss the feeling of accomplishment of getting to safety—the sanctuary of the bus—and having my jeans dry quickly because of a combination of body heat and AC in the classroom.