The volunteers

Farewell, volunteers!

Rising Star welcomed six sessions of volunteers this summer, from June through August. Volunteers stay from one to three weeks, depending on the length of their session. Most of them are college students (frequently from BYU) and sojourn for about three weeks. We also had high school teachers on summer break, grad students, and a few families.

I was often moved by their compassion towards the children, their maturity and flexibility, and their encouragement of my work.

I wasted zero point no time in putting them to work, and guess where?

Each volunteer tutored eight children in a row, at twenty minutes each. Because I usually had six volunteers at a time (three groups alternated each day between tutoring, medical work at a leprosy colony, and aiding in construction work), we were able to help 48 kids with reading every day. I was thrilled with this result and with everyone's efficiency. Unfortunately I was only able to implement this system with the last group. But they noted improvement in the kids even just after these ten days. Now we'll know what to do next summer!

I'm so sorry to see them go; if they stayed another six months our reading levels would surge! I also try to help 48 kids a day with their reading, but don't get very far...

Here's Lindsey, who's graduating from MIT in December.

After school the volunteers taught mini-workshops several times a week. They often brought fun material with them, such as paints and colored paper.

The children signed up for whatever class struck their fancy. They have so few chances for entertainment and were always excited.

When I arrived at Rising Star, I decided to do my job but not to get too involved emotionally. That resolution lasted about two days. I frequently find myself wanting to weep. Because the youngest children are only five and will be growing up without their parents. Because some of the children show obvious signs of abuse. Because we are all doing what we can but many get so little help or individual attention.

The volunteers also make me want to weep. My gratitude towards them knows no bounds! The longer I'm here, the more clearly I can see how deep their impact is.

 

The children adore them, especially if they happen to be male (girls are a dime a dozen, but not so many guys show up).

Epilogue to food

An hour after completing the previous blog, I came across this in "Life of Pi" about eating Indian food. Such a perfect expression of why I fear it!

Each time it's the same: my taste buds shrivel up and die, my skin goes beet red, my eyes well up with tears, my head feels like a house on fire, and my digestive tract starts to twist and groan in agony like a boa constrictor that has swallowed a lawn mower.

Food, glorious (?) food, (no) hot sausage and mustard!

These days, I don't find myself dreaming of Jeannie, but of lasagna, lettuce, cheese, chocolate, Tiramisu, strawberries, blueberries, peaches, applesauce, at least some meat for heaven's sakes, and did I mention chocolate?

Someone recently emailed to ask whether I found the food monotonous, boring, tedious. Do ducks quack? Is India hot and humid?

Here are the kids queue-ing up:

And voila, here it is in all its glory: dinner! Or lunch? Or is it dinner after all? Maybe breakfast?

Volunteers here who have traveled around this country tell me that the Indian food you get in the States is essentially food from northern India. It's diverse, it's got nuts and lentils, it's interesting and tasty. But alas, here we're in the south!

The big challenge for me is that I have zero tolerance for spicy food. Most of what they offer would frankly send me into a coma. This led to not a small amount of anxiety and insomnia when I first arrived. I pictured myself looking like Gandhi on one of his hunger strikes. But I've made it work and have lasted two months without complete emaciation!

But I exaggerate. I found a Western grocery store in Chennai (2-3 hours away, depending on how many cows and rickshaws get in the way) which is the size of a gas station convenience store, but stocks oatmeal, pasta, bread. At the risk of becoming an ugly American who barely samples the curry (last time I tried, my lips started to tingle and go numb, like at the dentist's), I do quite well. And the peanut butter and tuna from my mom have gone a very long way.

Happy Indian Independence Day!

I arrived home late last Saturday to this sight: the older boys as excited as excited could be, dancing around their newly created flag mound. Deepenraj laughingly declared himself the architect, Rajesh the engineer, and Shankar the manager of the little project. They handed out crackers and asked me to join the party.

I gave them some paper and markers, and this is how they improved the site by the following morning:

Parents Day

Once a month, parents travel to Rising Star to visit with their children. Often only one parent is afflicted by leprosy, and it's that one who comes. Since leprosy patients are not permitted to ride on buses (trains are allowed), the trip can be long and complicated.

A few are orphans, and this is understandably not exactly their favorite day.
Others do have at least one parent who is not able to make the visit for one reason or another. Although they try to hide it, I sometimes find children on the verge of tears when their parents don't show up.

Amirthavasan and his mom:

Praveen Kanth (left) and family:

It was unclear why these people were grouped together. Relatives? From the same colony? They told me, but is was Tamil to me...

Nagalakshmi (left), Harikrishnan (middle), and Soniya (right). I'm finally learning some names. It always fills me with dread and fear when a child comes up to me and asks, "Principal ma'am, what me name?" I'm supposed to know their names just because they know mine? But no one's blaming me with names like Thamimul Ansari and Sathrabathi, right?

Some of the mothers leave their children with henna tattoo designs on their hands and forearms. I think I'll get in line next month!

Sweet Priya and her dad:

Hariharan and his sister Suganya with their father, who has lost a leg from leprosy. It's devastating to see this happen to young people, but at least they are more mobile and can cope physically better than the older folks.




Prankster Mohankumar with his grandmother. Try as I might, I couldn't get him to reveal his toothless grin for the camera.

Speaking of teeth, little Gokulraja had half of one of his front teeth knocked out at dance last week. It made me sick to my stomach to see his new lopsided smile. But he has so much character that maybe he can succeed in making it look fashionable. Here he is with his sister Vanamalar, who never ceases smiling, and their mother. She's a bit lacrymose from being told, through the kids' translation, how much her boy loves hanging out with me in the library.

A frightful and potentially tragic day for this family: Basha and Mariyambe with their mother and aunt. The father is about to have a leprous foot amputated and stayed at home. The mother has been threatening for months to withdraw the children from Rising Star. Her alleged reason is that she wants to place them in a Tamil-speaking school. But it seems pretty clear that she has early employment in mind: increasing the family income through begging.

 (Rising Star's mission is to end begging by providing the school for the children and micro-loans for the parents to start small businesses. The hope is that these programs will result in new mentalities and lifestyles, but this does not always catch on right away!)

So today I met with the mother, along with two other administrators. The language barrier prevented me from playing much of a part in the conversation. But the end result is that we somehow were able to convey the importance of education, and that she is not taking them home today at least. Hooray!

Maybe it helped that I burst into tears when she said (this was translated to me), "They don't need to be doctors or engineers. As long as they can read a little, I'm satisfied." Mariyambee's the best reader in second grade and I refuse to have it all end with Dr. Seuss.