I wake up to the noise of my roommates as they putter around, getting ready for the new day. The little bit of sunlight that has passed through the clouds shines on my face and I hop down from the shaky top bunk that has been my bed for the past three weeks. "Did you have bad dreams last night? Because you were thrashing around a bit and making noises," says Kim, the unfortunate woman who must deal with a miniature earthquake every time I go up and down to get into bed. Ahh, gotta love my malaria medicine. We were a little afraid of the side effects when I got it, but I took my chances. Oh well, I'm still doing fine and I would rather have nightmares and possible hallucinations than a deathly disease!
After a light breakfast of cereal and toast with fresh scrambled eggs the group has morning conclave. We discuss the plans for the day--my group, Shakti (which means "power" in Tamil) is on medical duty. We pile on the bus, our lunches of peanut butter sandwiches in hand. It almost seems like we are going to school, and in a way we are. We aren't going to learn any formal lessons, but lessons of life. The bus bumps along and we travel the familiar road that feels almost like home to me. We pass through the village, past sleeping dogs and naked little children, through the "Junction" where you can get anything from henna to anklets to delicious packaged Indian cookies called Nice Times. After about twenty minutes we pull up to a little building and our driver honks the horn with a long, loud blast. We pick up the doctor, Dr. Kumar, from his small practice and two nurses from their homes. Within five minutes we are parked in front of the Bharatapuram colony's "Old Folks Home" as they call it. Climbing down the steps, I dodge the huge puddle in the road from the past few days' rain and walk through the open doors of the airy building. Instantly I hear greetings of "Vanakkam," the Tamil word for welcome. The story behind this old folks home is incredible, actually. The colony of Bharatapuram is one of the most advanced or maybe THE most advanced out of all of the leprosy colonies. Many of the people here have micro-loans and are doing very well. Bharatapuram is the home of the Bindu Art School, whose students are leprosy patients themselves. Not only is the Art School here, but down the street is a little shop where we bought bottles of 7-Up when we were doing construction once. The colony even has a barber shop!
Apparently as the people of the colony became established and regained their self-dignity, they decided that it was necessary to build a home for the elderly patients. They put their money together and, with donations from some other sponsors and organizations, the idea became a reality. I believe this gives a small indication of the caliber possessed by these people--so downtrodden and distressed themselves, and cast out from society, they would still think to serve others.
Today it is our opportunity to serve them. We unload boxes of supplies from the back of the bus and get to work. Dr. Kumar and a few others go into the building to record blood pressure, test for diabetes, and check up on the patients' general health. The rest of us stay outside, setting up lawn chairs and getting ready for the cleansing and dressing of wounds on the patients' feet. Today I will help wash feet with two other volunteers as well as young Boston and Olivia Hendershot, daughters of a young couple who have committed to staying here at Rising Star for a year. Boston is around eight years old and Olivia is probably ten or eleven. The girls have two brothers and one additional sister. The Hendershot's story is a remarkable one I will have to tell at a later time.
We put on rubber gloves, fill shallow containers with water and a capful of antiseptic, and get ready to treat our patients. I feel a few drops of rain and hope it will hold off until we are done--I don't know what we will do if it starts pouring! My first customer is a man who solemnly takes off the bandage from his foot with the stubs of fingers he has left. His big toe is still recognizable, but all that is left of the other toes are little stumps. He puts his foot in the water and I begin to rub it down. I can feel a sore on the sole and lift up his foot to look at how bad it is. The wound is about the size of a half dollar and is calloused with dead skin about a quarter of an inch thick. I put it back in the water and cautiously rub it, trying to clean it as best as I can. I look up and question, "Pain?" He shrugs. No. He has lost all feeling in his foot. With a little square of towel, I dry him off as best as I can. The less moisture the better. He will go to the girls next to me now, who will cut off the dead skin and bandage him up. Seeing his wound is bad enough--even the thought of taking off so much skin makes me feel a bit queasy. Thank goodness those girls are nursing majors!
The next man I help still has some feeling in his foot. I can tell because he winces and sucks in his breath while I try to clean his wound as gently as possible.
With my fellow foot washers, the work is pretty fast, but bandaging takes quite a lot more time. Soon we have a line of people waiting. We only have two lawn chairs for them to sit on, so we improvise and make a seat out of a stack of bricks for one woman while she waits. I feel like there are too many washers, so I wander inside to see how everything is going in there. They are busy with several people, so I enter the right side of the building. It is a big room with probably 15 or 20 beds--the men's side. I see a few of the men and talk with them for a few minutes. The first man is almost completely blind and extremely thin, nothing but skin and bones. Olivia has brought a picture of him and one of the former volunteers. He can barely see the picture, but he clutches it in his hands and smiles with a hearty "Thank you!" I get up to leave and grab his hands to say goodbye. He puts mine in his and brings them to his forehead.
I meander back outside, feeling slightly useless. Everyone seems to have a job, but I feel like I will just get in the way if I go back to washing feet.
A man suddenly comes up to me and points at his mangled hand with claw-like fingernails. He wants me to trim his nails. I can do that! The nurse hands me a slightly rusty toenail clipper and I set to work. First comes the thumb. The nail is thick with lots of skin buildup underneath and it seems to be slightly dead. After a few minutes of hacking and filing away I let the man examine my work. Hmm, it seems like the nail could be a bit shorter. I understand what he is trying to tell me and try to cut it more. I'm no manicurist and am initially a little afraid of cutting the nail too short, but he most likely doesn't feel anything anyways. After I'm done with his fingernails he grins and gestures to his toes. I smile and get to work. Normally I don't like to touch other people's feet very much, and those are people with healthy feet. These people's feet are anything BUT healthy. I can do this, though. I recognize that these are individuals who have been treated like beasts and untouchables--I want them to know that they are still definitely human beings with worth. I finally finish and he gets up with a smile. "Thank you!"
The word spreads that I am doing nails, and I get a few more customers. As I kneel at the feet of these beautiful people I can't help but think of Jesus Christ as He did similar acts of service for those he loved. I remember the story of a small town in war-torn Europe that had a statue of the Savior in its center. The statue was damaged by bombings and as the people gathered to restore it after the war they realized the hands had been completely demolished. The townspeople eventually decided to leave the statue hand-less, and put at the bottom a plaque that said "You are my hands." I am grateful for this opportunity to be His Hands today. I hope the people I am serving can feel my love as well as His.
Eventually we depart from the colony and arrive back at the Rising Star campus. I go over to the playground and a little boy comes up to me. "Aunty!" He jumps over water puddles and heads to a twisty slide. At the bottom is a big puddle, so I catch him and swing him around to avoid the water. He loves it! We do this probably ten times and then another boy comes. Now I'm swinging two little boys off of that slide. It is so much fun! Later, I play a game of soccer with some of the older boys. They are all so cute!
Dinner tonight is on the roof of the children's hostel. I am delighted, because it has been days since we have been able to eat up there due to the rain. Out come the banana leaves. The regular rice, spicy sauce, and other fruits and vegetables are passed around. It is a beautiful' night. I am excited to go see my girls, though. Kristin and I go down the stairs and into our family's room. The four youngest girls are there. We read books. Abisha surprises me by reading a book called "All By Myself." She is probably 6 years old. She isn't really reading it, but going through each word and sounding out each letter. She grabs my finger and points to each letter as she makes the sound. I am thrilled because this is the first time she has ever done this. At the same time I am sad because I know I only have one more night with her before I leave. The girls and I sing some songs. I teach them "Once There Was a Snowman." First, though, I have to explain what snow is because they have never seen it. They love it! Soon it is eight o'clock. Bedtime. Kristin tells them the story of Beauty and the Beast and then they ask for a song. I sing "Teach Me to Walk in the Light" and Kristin joins in too. It is absolutely beautiful, because two of the little girls start singing as well. What makes me even more happy is that I look over and Abisha has shared her blanket with little Jayamary. Jayamary is relatively new and has had a hard time adjusting. The other girls aren't very nice to her sometimes, which breaks my heart. She is the sweetest girl ever! Seeing Abisha sharing her blanket with her is priceless. I wish this moment would never end.
It does, though, and we go over to the Dining Hall where the older kids are studying. I help some of my older girls with homework and once again end up thankful for the education I have received in America. Soon they gather for prayer and the sound of children's voices singing what sounds like "Abide with Me" in Tamil breaks through the noises of the night.
After prayers the children head to their hostel and we volunteers head to ours. We walk by the light of the moon and a few streetlights. I see what looks like a big toad about to hop on my foot and scream a little--it's only a leaf, though.
Once back at the hostel I grab my shampoo and head for the bowers (bucket showers). The water is cold as it pours over my body, but it is wonderful to be clean. I brush my teeth, careful not to use water from the sink, take out my contacts, and climb up the ladder onto my shaky bed. Ahh, another perfect day in the little paradise of India. There is nowhere else I'd rather be. Let's hope my malaria medicine is good to me tonight!
