for my favorites from this session, please see HERE.

the list of children waiting is long…the sponsors few, the space is full. eMi2 cannot bring the sponsors, but we can help with the space. the vision was to create living facilities for 200 children and a school to hold 500. there was to be a home for the managers as well as a dining and gathering hall. it is a big dream, but one not too far out of reach.

we visited the site early monday morning. we wanted to beat the heat of the south, but i really don’t think that’s possible. as we pulled up to the four-acre site, the car quieted [much unheard of for our group] the usually dry site was completely covered with three feet of water. let’s just say when they purchased the plot, they had no idea. it was a steal of a deal at $8,000…now we know why. the canal that runs along the road carrying the discharge-gray water spills right onto the property. no wonder the rice wouldn’t grow. not only would the canal have to be better developed to allow the waste water to run by, but the entire site would need to be raised five feet. the price tag? an estimated $80,000…now we really know why. however, samson and gert wished to proceed as planned. such a large quantity of fill is typical for these parts and the location rendered the effort worth it. we took our notes and walked around as much as we could. a small crowd of 20 had gathered to see what the white people were up to and no doubt, our visit was the news of the week in the small village.

joel and pat spent the next day surveying as gretchen, judy, and i removed the mattress of the bed to create our workspace. we divided and conquered the large program; thankfully communication came easily. we spent several hours talking with gert, samson and lalitha about the running of the facility. we also pulled lalitha aside to hear her voice more fully, knowing she would be overseeing most of the day-to-day activities. as we moved into final production mode, we enlisted pat to trace our design drawings for presentation and joel was put to work on the model. [engineers can be quite precise…i think i should have hired their help in school] just as any other project, we finished just before it was time to present. i swear architects don’t procrastinate, we just take as much time as we are given to make it that much better…or work best under pressure…or use whatever excuse we can come up with to justify the last minute madness.

a celebration was planned for our last night there. the children would prepare a program, we would present our work, and gifts would be exchanged. the board members were also in attendance, but the most important in the audience were the children. they were the reason we were here in the first place. we set up our drawings in their room, their trunks creating the base and the slat the presentation board. i was voted to present, though i had no idea how i would go about it…at least until i stood up. i tried to paint for the children a picture of a day in their new home. we talked about their preparation for school and the walk they would have across the campus. as they sat in class, the sea breezes from the south would be able to blow through both sides of their classes and keep them cool while the hot sun was shaded by the walkway. while still maintaining as much south exposure as possible and cutting down on the east and west, the building would be slightly askew to create a gathering space for the classrooms to spill out to a cricket field and paving to play games. the boys faces unforgettably lit up as i mentioned the word cricket.

dinner would be served in the dining hall located between the school and the dormitory. there, they could enjoy their meals outside or in, unlike the rocks they sit upon now. there would even be a place inside for dishes to be washed and be stored. the cooks would have enough space to accommodate the large demands of food and there would be storage for all the goods.

in our minds, we walked from the dining room, beside ‘mommy and daddy’s’ house, beside the playground and into their new home, the girls to the south, the boys on the north. there would be a large community space as they first entered their front door, good for meetings and playing. two wings from the center held 16-person rooms with adequate space for their own beds instead of the floor mats they have now. all of the rooms spill out to another, more intimate gathering space, perfect for studying and for hanging their clothes to dry. the jali wall along the north and west sides will allow the breezes in and diffuse the light. at the end of each corridor, the bathrooms. no longer will outdoor toilets and showers be used, a real bathroom they will have. it’s the little things in life that make the difference.

they looked up at me expectantly…all was mentioned…but the tv room. where would it go? was their only question. i smiled. of course it wasn’t asked for, it was a want not a need. but, if perhaps their simple wish is granted, we had made a space for it. their smiles held a feeling of satisfaction and anticipation. though ‘family’ seemed a relative term, home no longer would be.

i wonder what she’s thinking and i want to hear her story. she’s one of the older girls of the orphanage, 13 she tells me, and in the 8th class. every meal she helps serve us and our water glasses never stay empty for long. with her long braids hang behind her, her dark eyes always observing and i want to know her story.
we were done working for the day and unwinding before bed. i heard the children singing on the other side of the wall and couldn’t resist sneaking over to watch. i pulled up a trunk and took in the scene. there are 9 boys and 25 girls; this is intentional. C.H.I.L.D. wants 75% of their children to be female for they are often the ones left alone or abandoned. sons are celebrated; daughters despised. sons inherit. they bring parents wealth, a dowry worth as much as four years of a bride’s family income. a son is also essential in a hindu family to light a parent’s funeral pyre and open the way to heaven. daughters bring financial hardship, then leave to become servants of another family. some female infants are killed: smothered beneath the placenta, fed poison or abandoned in the wild. more often, they simply get less than their brothers of the food and medicine needed to survive. among children younger than five, the death rate is three times greater for girls than for boys.

the boys were lined up along one side of the wall and the girls sat in rows, filling the rest of the room. class by class they came up and led the rest of the group in song. annada was selected to oversee. she sat next to me and we enjoyed the performance. all songs came accompanied with actions, indians were created to dance. the littlest ones were my favorites… they usually are. together, they all sang a song i’ll never forget.

‘your mother may let you down, your daddy may let you down
your mother may let you down, your daddy may let you down.
the men of the world will let me down, my Je-us never fails.
the men of the world will let me down, my Je-us never fails.
Je-us, never fails. Je-us, never fails.’

i could have sung those same words with them, but they wouldn’t have had the same meaning as they do for these children. could i ever really imagine what it would be like to be an orphan? to be so young with no family to care for me? my western mind cannot grasp the thoughts.

before coming to the home, one of the youngest was left home alone while her mother went to work. one of the neighbors found out and he became a daily ‘visitor’ while mom was working. thankfully, she’s in safe hands now. another was pledged to be married at 12 and on a village visit, begged the C.H.I.L.D. founders to let her study. after much petitioning to their Father and to hers, she and her younger sister were allowed to enter the children’s home. the older has begun nursing school, the younger, not yet 16, has left to be married. some are still caught stealing, others cheating in school. before new methods can be learned, the old ones must be unlearned and it is a slow process. all under 18, they have known more heartache than i can even imagine yet their faces cannot hide their newly found joy.

s the children prepare for bed, annada and i climb the stairs to the roof to watch the stars. amidst the laundry strung around and the mosquitoes flying about, we lay on the concrete and count the twinkles. we know we won’t be able to number them all, but we still enjoy trying. i tell her about my family, of life in the states. i tell her about the parks we have and how fun it is to jump on a trampoline. in her broken english, she tells me part of her story as well. when she was 3, her mother died giving birth to her younger brother and her father died of cancer a couple years later. she’s really never known what it’s like to have parents and what a real family looks like. but she loves it here. lalitha and samson have become her mommy and daddy and she has more brothers and sisters than she ever could have imagined. someday, she wants to be a doctor. i do not question the seriousness of her ambition. she’s already been through so much, a medical degree will be a piece of cake.

i was in junior high when i first heard of the high abortion rate of girls in china. with the one child law, many parents preferred their lineage continued through their sons. i decided then to adopt one of those little china dolls for myself. perhaps she’ll have an indian sister.

most mornings, i am up before the rest of my team and catch glimpses of their beginning activities from the screen of my window. their chores begin early and i see them hanging up the laundry on the line and sweeping the walk which leads to the street. they bathe themselves, often using up the entire water supply as they enjoy the still new phenomena of running water. they comb each other’s hair and decorate the braids with colorful ribbons. i can’t help but smile as i watch them care for each other as if they were family.

down the street and around the corner they walk single file to the paul’s house. no cook has been found yet for the home, designating rani as the children’s cook. not enough room for them inside the paul’s house, they squat in the way only asians can at the back of the house and enjoy whatever meal is placed before them. they are quiet, we hardly know they are there. off to school next, most to remedial classes in hopes of catching up from the neglect of studies at home. lessons continue long after the school day concludes and i often hear them practicing their telugu pronunciation in unison even after the sun sets.

i sneak out often from the ‘adult socializing’ in the eveings to enjoy a few smiles and laughs with them. my small amount of hindi is bad enough; i have no hope with this new teugu language. we’ve found other ways of communicating, though. they love posing for my camera and my camera loves them back. they sing me english sunday school songs and i search through into my elementary school repertoire for some of my own to give them back. we smile a lot and laugh even more. part of me wants to take them home with me, then part of me wants to stay here with them in their home.

machilipatnam photos

as i hold your dirty hand, all that i can say to you,
is in the awkward smile i make,
i can’t explain why i came to this distant land.
and your simple smiles refresh my soul,
and i can’t help but love you enough,
for you have all you need.

as i look into your face, i see hope and not disgrace,
and strength that carries you along
the rugged road you travel on.
and as we go our separate ways,
you can be sure that i have changed,
because i’ve seen the way you live.
[galena. waterdeep]