Ta Ta!

This morning I woke up not knowing what to expect from today, my last in Calcutta, my last in India. We armed ourselves with bags of medical supplies, food for the kids and a few tissues for our eyes if needed. It was a normal day like I knew it would be. The only thing was the kids smiles seemed to be bigger, eyes brighter and hugs more touching. I will miss this place.

We found our usual crew of people and after taking care of them we were approached by the mother who was passed our cold a few weeks ago with the little baby. Her child was burning up and looked very sick. We all had to take a deep breath and do our best to help her battle the 'system' to get her child medicine. We cleaned her, dressed her wounds and promised to buy her medication if she brought us a prescription. We found a new man with elephantitis and took care of a young girl with cuts up and down her arm...probably self-inflicted. When the time came to leave, Ann and I stood behind and told the others we would take the next train. This place has changed me so much I didn't know what to do other than stand for a minute and watch. My favorite (even though I shouldn't have one..I do:) girl came up to me and gave me a big smooch right on the lips and then did the same for Ann. I gave her one back, smiled and walked away. I know that her days will be the same trials and tribulations of survival once I leave and I hope others will come take good care of her and teach her family to do the same. I had to walk away and not look back or I probably wouldn't have ever been able to stop hugging her. I know in my heart that I will return again soon.

We stopped at the other station on the way home and gave a family a laminated photo that Ann took a week earlier. The father and mother looked at it with pride. I am sure this is their only family photo. It felt good to provide that for them.

Today we will pack and say good bye to India. The plan for the evening is dinner and good company. At 0500 tomorrow a cab will take us away, back to our reality....more to come next year. Signing off from India...Katie

Perfect Symmetry

I woke on the train at 0600 to a baby crying below and a loud snoring man to my left. It is amazing to get any sleep on the trains with all of the distractions and smells but most nights have been OK. The train is a great way to see the country while staying budget conscious. There are options of 1st/2nd or 3rd class AC or the always-classy and stylish 'general sleeper' class where Ann and I have stayed on each train ride. We have met some very interesting people, been stared at and seen amazing countryside. One thing we have never felt however, is unsafe.
We arrived at the Agra Fort rail station and were whisked away by an autorickshaw who must have been telepathic because he knew everything we needed to have a great day in Agra. First, we went to get tickets for the train to Delhi that night, then he helped us get our luggage secured and finally, he took us to the Taj Mahal. I was suspicious he might be scamming us because of his insistence and persistence and in the end we ended up with a minor argument and frustration over our connecting train reservation, but everything worked out.
We were approached at the entrance of the Taj by a young man in fake Dulce and Gabbana sunglasses, a button up shirt and nice jeans. If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken him for a Bollywood star:) He said he was 'official guide' and wanted to take us on a tour of the Taj. He showed a badge and when I asked for government paperwork be handed me a formal letterhead that stated he was NOT an official guide and didn't have a license. I think he must have produced this paperwork many times for tourists and people didn't read the fine print. I questioned him and he smiled and said 'tour?' We accepted, mostly because he was amusing and we were lead to the majestic Taj Mahal. The entire building and grounds is in 'perfect symmetry' and those words were ingrained in our heads by our enthusiastic guide. We spent the morning wandering around a wonder of the world before heading to the Agra Fort a few kilometers away. After spending the day in the hot sun we braved the train station, met a fellow traveler from Canada and headed to Delhi on a 'superfast' (meaning 5 hour) train. We arrived to a backpacker street, checked into a guest house and fell asleep.
In the morning Ann and I went to the famous markets and bargained ourselves some treasures before going to the airport for a 2 hour flight back to Calcutta. It was a whirlwind trip and we saw a different and diverse India. I loved it. Part of me will always stay here. The differences are vast between India and home but it truly grows on you and will be sincerely missed.

Good Karma, Small Price

Just returned from a multi-day trip across India. We left Sunday night on a 14, turned 19 hour with delay, trip from Calcutta to Varanasi. This is one of the holiest cities in India and many Hindu people pilgrimage there as a religious rite. It is home to the Ganges River and is considered the "City of Shiva". It is a place where death and life come together. We arrived haggard and tired to a small train station on the outskirts of the city. We negotiated a rickshaw and settled into one of our 'India indulgences', the Ganga River View Hotel, our oasis amidst chaos. For a slightly elevated fee, we enjoyed a beautiful room, hot water and good food. Ann and I sent the afternoon walking from ghat to ghat and watching people. The bright colors of ongoing celebration and festival perfectly lined the jagged waters edge.

In the evening as we walked back from town a man yelled, 'boat, small price' and motioned us over. He offered a 1 hour ride down the river to observe various religious rituals for a minimal rupee price. We accepted and followed down to the river edge thinking he would be our boat captain. Much to our surprise, and accidental support of Indian child labor, a young boy probably only 10 or 11 jumped into the boat claiming he was 13 and made a 'good wage'. Our guilt and the incoming night cloaked us as we watched from afar ceremonies of cremation, Hindu prayer and chanting. The experience was both intense and surreal. The next morning I took a solo boat trip on the river with another suspiciously young boat driver. The rising sun provided a soft warm glow to hundreds of bodies bathing in the holy river. As I walked back from the boat children came up to me selling candles wrapped in banana leaves to float down the river. 'Good karma, small price' they said in perfect English. I had to smile and buy one. Hey, any good karma I can get is good, and for a small price....how can I resist? As a side note, personally I wouldn't dare put even a fingernail in the Ganges because of the high pollution. I watched farmers lead cattle down irrigation channels filled with pus and slime and almost bubbling with toxicity. These channels went into the river that was equally disgusting. There is an environmental movement to clean up the river that I fear will be faced with many challenges because of the line that wound be crossed between government and religion. It will be interesting to see how that plays out in upcoming years.
We left Varanasi around 1800 for another long night trip to Agra and the TAJ MAHAL!!!

Reality Check

It is amazing the range of emotions you can feel when experiencing a new place. India is like a tree with a thousand branches. Some are long, others short, some soft and many undiscovered. Some days when I return from volunteering I feel far out on a limb of this tree and I can't often describe what emotion I am feeling, only that it is powerful.

On Friday evening we did wound care at Shealdah station. It was a great day, the synergy of volunteering was in full swing. It is amazing to form relationships with the people who live on the streets. It makes getting up at 0430 and working in the extreme heat a privilege rather than a chore. I am honored each day that people allow me into their lives and help them. I learn something new every minute and with that knowledge my experience and tolerance grows. Some of the things I have seen in the past few days are unbearable. For example, Rebecca and I came across a young baby (maybe 4 months) slouched on her mother's stomach on Friday. She was filthy and covered with flies. We went to her and offered milk and food. Her mother didn't wake up. A crowd gathered around us as it often does and bystanders tried to wake the mother, shaking and even punching her in the face. She was so drunk that she didn't even flinch. This poor baby was being cared for by an incapacitated mother. We held the baby, cleaned her and made sure others were watching out for her. I left with a tear in my eyes. Without a moment to clear my head, soon as we went outside, other immediately rushed to us. There is no time to process here, you must treat kindly and non-judgmentally and move on. The young girl who was raped a week or so ago climbed onto my back and I played with her for a few minutes. As always, she had a runny nose so the other volunteers and I tried to clean her up. As squirmy as a rabbit, she tried to hide her face, avoiding our tissues. Even in the safety of our arms, a man appeared from nowhere and slapped her in the face, trying to get her cooperation. I was stunned. I couldn't decided if I should run away with the child or fight this man. The girl started to cry and I did everything I could to hold back tears. It is so unfair. This child of four has already been through more than any one person should in a life time.

Yesterday Ann and I went into Calcutta to visit the Mother Teresa House of the Destitute and and Dying. I was very impressed with the facility. It was clean, caring and had a lot of volunteer support. The Mother's impact on Calcutta is visible in many ways. Her former presence left a quiet optimism that allows many to cope with illness and poverty.

On the train home I met a young woman who lives in Khardah. I told her that Ann wanted to get her nose pierced and asked if she knew of a good and hygienic place. She got on her cell phone immediately and call a beautician asking if she could stay open late and her sister who needed to be in on the activities. We arrived at Eve's Beauty Parlor and after a brief icing and a single 'click', Ann is now an honorary Indian woman, complete with a nose ring. She looks fantastic!

Tonight we leave on an overnight train for Varanasi...more to come.
Katie

Thank You!

I want to take a minute to thank EVERYONE for reading this blog and supporting the CRAWL project. It means so much to me having support from home. When I see the donations we were able to bring with us and spread the well-wishes you all sent, it makes me so proud and thankful to have you all in my life. Namaste.

Where is your Motherland?

This is the way Indian people ask us where we are from. Not only is this an amusing contortion of the English language, it is a strangely appropriate question given the 'alien' way we often feel here. Yesterday on the way to Calcutta, Ann and I barely make it onto the packed men's car and were pushed into a far corner, shoved between sweaty men, luggage and huge crates filled with vegetables. A man leaned to me and asked where we were going. I told him 'Dum Dum', hoping he would take pity and help us navigate our way off the train. Instead, he turned to his neighbor and whispered 'Dum Dum' and within the next minute we heard whispers of 'Dum Dum' spread throughout the train like a game of telephone. Suddenly everyone had an opinion on our upcoming train exit. 'Move here, go to the front, your stop next.' We eventually made it towards the door, packed like sardines, and a man leans to me and asks, 'Where is your motherland?' I smiled, said America and pulled my body off the train.

Last night we went to the Fairlawn Hotel to celebrate Julia's (a volunteer from Holland) birthday. The hotel is like Christmas in March with bright colored lights, good food, music and BEER! Needless to say, we enjoyed the night out and made it to the train station minutes before a huge rainstorm soaked the polluted night.

This morning was wound care at Dum Dum. There were more kids than usual and we had to buy extra biscuits from a vendor. We made our usual rounds then headed home to organize all of the medical supplies. Yesterday afternoon I started to lose my voice. Always one for a challenge, I figure that it is not enough to not speak Bengali and try to understand health problems in a foreign country, but now I should try to communicate without a voice! Hand motions and facial expressions will have to do....hopefully I will be able to speak again soon.
Katie

I request you please

Every week we have a volunteer meeting at the flat. Our coordinator comes with a list of items to discuss, neatly written out on notebook paper. The President of CRAWL is a young woman from Khardah, who after getting her degree at the university, did a survey of slum kids in our area and identified the 25 most promising, albeit, most needy children in the area. She worked to start a school for them and with the help of a few others, developed the women's program and medical project. She was joined at our meeting today by a man we have worked with a few times known only as, 'the father of Kokoli.' Kokoli is one of the other group leaders who lives on the west side of India for half of the year so we have never met her. He is a stern man who speaks loudly and yells at you in every conversation, even if he is giving you a compliment. His intonation is harsh but his words are often kind. We always chuckle when anyone talks about him because his actual name is a mystery to us, he is known only as 'The father of Kokoli', from his cell phone number listing on the contact board at the flat, to introductions made to other volunteers. Very funny.

I have picked up tips from others on adapting to Indian life. For example, if an Indian man is harassing you in anyway, it is most shameful to make him feel like he is dishonoring your family. I tried this out while haggling for a cab from the rail station home yesterday. Our cabbie agreed on a price and when we seemed to accept he stated, 'No miss, I said, 250, I request you please 250, I request you please...' Even though his English made me laugh, Ann and I had to stand firm with our original price. He didn't accept and said we were making up numbers. We looked at him shockingly and said, 'I will be a mother someday' and ' I am some one's daughter.' He looked so surprised and I could tell our words impacted him. The sense of community and family is so strong here that if you not only make yourself seem insulted, but are part of a larger picture, often the situation becomes quickly more fair. We settled on a price and headed home. I have written about how scary the trains are, but a cab ride is not an ideal alternative. I noticed early in the trip that no cars have side mirrors. This is because rules of the road do not exist. Cars squeeze themselves as close to other cars, rickshaws, bikes and people as possible. I almost can't look because we are always 2 seconds away from a potential accident. I had to close my eyes and hope I would open them to the road near our flat and not a hospital (trust me, I have seen the hospitals here:)
This morning was quiet at the train station, hopefully we will find more people tomorrow. I ran into one old man lying on a bench, wife at his side, gently stroking his hand. She handed me a folder of medical records and prescriptions. She had tears in her eyes. I looked at the paperwork which showed he had a right-sided CVA one week ago. There was a list of medications the doctor ordered. I took it from her, promised to get the medication and return tomorrow. It is frustrating that doctors discharge people to the streets without knowing in good faith that they have the ability to get medications. Hopefully I can find them all and dispense in the morning.
We leave for a few days of travel on Sunday...

Bodies and Beaches

Just returned from the overnight train from Puri at 0800. The trip felt like it was over before it began. We arrived to the quiet beach town of Puri at 0500 a couple days ago. After negotiating a rickshaw driver for a ride to the beach, we arrived...escaping the hustle bustle of the city to a serene beach. The local fisherman collectively launched boats from the shore, one-by-one, like a completed puzzle taken apart one piece at a time. It was rhythmic to watch and since it was early and nothing was open, that is how we spent a few hours. After sunrise we checked into a guest house on the beach. Rebecca (another volunteer) and I walked the town, ate lunch and visited a few temples. We relaxed on the beach and caught up on reading in the afternoon. Ann joined us later in the day and we toured the local village. Babies were handed to us and random arms emerged from huts motioning us to come inside. We met up with a man our friends from CRAWL had spent time with a few weeks ago and took him and his fiance to dinner. It was a little awkward since she didn't speak English, but the whole evening was both enjoyable and relaxing.

The next morning I went for a run on the beach. People stopped me a few times, mid-run, to shove a camera in my face and say 'photo?' A simple head nod from me was all they needed to giggle, hand their camera to a friend and come pose with this strange white girl. I don't know if people in Puri send holiday pictures like we do, but if so, I think I will be in many Indian holiday greeting cards. We took a rickshaw to the Sun Temple, a gorgeous and immaculate temple one hour outside of Puri. It is a holy place where people come both to vacation and pilgrimage. It was an honor to see a place revered so much by the people.

I met Ann on the beach later and she was with a gentleman from Canada who travels 6 months of every year. She said they were going to see the 'burning bodies' and asked if I wanted to join. How could I resist tagging along for that? We walked 45 minutes down the beach until we reached a small open space where cows were lazily walking about. There were three small fires and a few scattered people. I thought maybe I had misunderstood where they said they were going until I noticed something at the end of one fire. Two delicate feet were softly crossed and slightly extended from the bonfire. I walked to the other side and saw an entire body trapped under planks of wood. Encircling the fire were random flowers. I noticed a similar setup with the other fires. There was a bloody circle near a group of women were I think an animal was sacrificed earlier in the day. At the top of a cement staircase, a group of men walked toward the fires carrying a dead man's body draped in white and covered in orange flowers. They took him near the other fires and set his body down. A hole was dug, wooden planks placed and prayers were said. The dead man's body was then set on fire while family and community members watched. This is death in the Hindu culture. The bodies are burned and ashes are taken by the oldest son and kept in the family home. It is a complex web of rituals and religion, dictated by money, the caste system and gender. In Varanasi, the town we will visit next weekend, I think the concept of death within India will become more clear, as it is the holiest city and being burned and discarded in the Ganges river breaks the karmic cycle and your spirit is free.

We took the night train and my mind was consumed with the imagery of India. Love it or hate it, India will change you.

The Indian way

In America independence is an admired quality. From our youth, we are taught to think for ourselves, branch out, spread our wings and eventually fly. This quality helps motivate us to explore parts of the world, such as India, to open our minds to new ways of thinking. In India, the mentality is often different. Children, especially women, are often submissive, don't question authority and do what they are told. When you put people together from different cultures, working side by side, there is bound to eventually be some kind of culture clash.

My example is working with an Indian woman doing wound care in the morning. She meets us at the train station each day and when the train comes, she tells each of us which car to get on. If you sit at a seat that she doesn't assign you she will tell you to move. She is direct, stating, 'sit here now.' When we work with people on the streets, she will grab you in the middle of a dressing change and tell you to work with someone else. Finally, when she is hot and hungry, she corrals all of us and escorts us quickly to the train to go home. First of all, I don't enjoy being told what to do very often...as my family knows. And second, it is frustrating to be pulled away from volunteer work when you want to do more. The more I thought about it, I realized how often we are spoken to in that way. People shout and push you to do things in a certain way. You are expected to do things simply because you are told, whether it is logical or not. It annoys me to no end but I realized that this 'organized chaos' is how things work here. When I first arrived nothing made sense to me and I found myself continually thinking, why don't they do that in a simple and easy way? I now know that this is part of overcoming ethnocentrism, judging an action based on my own cultural beliefs. I still don't like being told what to do but I am tolerating it better every day:)

We went to the station in the morning. Lots of kids, wounds and drugs to deal with at an early hour. It amazes me how much heroin is smoked here. Kids run to us shouting 'auntie' through fields of broken glass and animal feces, dodging circles of people shooting up drugs, to give us a hug and get some breakfast. We had a busy morning and before I knew it afternoon had arrived. Tonight Ann, Rebecca and I will get on a train for the beach. I can't wait! More to come from the salty water of Eastern India. Katie

Joining hands across the border

It is always interesting to pick a general direction and just simply walk. Yesterday that is what Ann and I did in the afternoon. We saw a new side of Khardah. There is countryside, open space and less pollution, not much less, but slightly less. People approached us and we had the same conversation we have everyday...where are you from, what is your age, what is your purpose here, do you like India? The conversation stops abruptly when they run out of English words to say and you move on to the next encounter. One man stopped us and had a basic knowledge of English so the conversation was longer than usual. When we told him we were nurses volunteering in India he eloquently stated, 'how wonderful to have so many hands joining together across the border.' We almost recruited him on the spot for CRAWL public relations.

I was dressing the wound of a young boy this morning when I felt two small arms hug me from behind and a tiny neck nuzzle into mine. When I turned to the side I saw the young girl who had been raped a few days prior. I finished the dressing and hugged her strongly. She climbed onto my back and stuck with Ann and me for the morning. She was running a fever and I was afraid she might have an infection. We examined her and told her mom to take her to Mother Teresa's Clinic where she could get a prescription. I wanted to bring her with us back home but I had to restrain. It worries me to no end what kind of care this child, and so many others receive. I have to admit I 'googled' adoption of Indian children when I got back home but am unfortunately aware of the masses of kids who are in the same situation. Maybe someday.

This afternoon we joined some of the volunteers at the CRAWL school for craft day. We made model animals, painted, sang and had a blast. The kids are gorgeous and kind. I hope to spend more time with them. In the evening we walked to the outskirts of Khardah and bought curd and sweets and now we are going to the flat for a small St. Paddy's day celebration. Tomorrow Ann, Rebecca and I are taking an overnight train to Puri for some beach time and camel riding. More to come... Katie

It takes a village...to do anything

Today I took a minute to sit behind a haggard man selling rice on the street and observe. It is amazing in a place that assaults your senses with vivid colors, pungent smells and loud sounds, how rarely you take the time to observe your surroundings. It is only when you take that extra snippet of time that you see how universal human nature can be. Children in India play with each other the same way kids do in America. Granted the toys are less sophisticated and there is far less supervision than I am used to, but I love when moments like these 'click' and even though you are half way around the world from familiarity, you seem to be at home.
We have a new volunteer from Canada via Taiwan so we oriented her to Khardah and the world of wound care. The train was the same challenge as before but seemed less stressful this morning. The first encounter of the day was with a young mom nursing a baby on the bench. She watched us with cautious eyes as we approached. The newborn was tiny and delicate and seemed out of place in the rough surrounding. Another child grabbed the baby and handed her to me. Mom didn't seem bothered by me holding her little one and in fact, when I tried to hand her back she motioned for me to take her away, muttering 'take to America' indicating she wanted me to keep her child. Shocking as it is, this is not an uncommon situation. I think parents either understand what a better life a child would have with us or don't have the means to care for the number of kids they have...or maybe both? Reluctantly I gave her back and headed to the platform. A man was lying on his back, eyes closed and his leg wrapped in plastic. I thought I recognized him from days earlier but as Ann and I unwrapped his leg I knew this was our first encounter. He has elephantitis, a disease that is common here but this was the first I had seen of it. His lower leg and foot were swollen and ulcerated and his ankle was small, like someone had wrapped a rubber band around a balloon. We dressed his wound and fed him. After a few hours we headed into Calcutta and normalcy. A trip to the mall refreshed us and we met friends at a local bar. The Calcutta Rescue had set up a handcraft fair and I found beautiful stationary and bags. All of the proceeds go to support medical care in the streets..how can I resist?
Getting on the train home was next to impossible. The group split up and everyone had to 'fend for themselves'. I headed for the least crowded car and grabbed on. Usually the train is a pushing war but tonight, surprisingly, everyone seemed to help me out, almost making it a group mission to get me home. It was refreshing and now I am ready for bed. Katie

Above the clouds

So I had my first overnight train experience getting from Calcutta to Darjeeling near the Nepal border. Ann and I booked tickets yesterday and arrived at the station an hour early. The station was bustling with excitement, people coming and going in every direction. We climbed aboard and found our seats. We had been warned by many people about the potentially unsafe train but luckily we were with a family and businessman. I got more sleep than expected and work up in a whole new India.
One of the problems with travel here is how you have to wait a long time to get anything done. Case in point: sharing a jeep for the 3 hour drive to Darjeeling. We paid and loaded in the car thinking we could leave but oh no, we had to wait for 7 others to join us. After about an hour and 6 others in the car, Ann and I chipped in the extra 50 cents to bribe the driver to get started on our Himalayan adventure.
Darjeeling is the jewel of the Indian Himalayas. It is a large town that is set up like a ski hill. A central point at the top of a large mountain and streets that run down all sides. It is beautiful but takes A LOT of energy to walk places. We checked into a guest house of the side of a hill and started to explore. It is amazingly different here. People are simple and beautiful. The mountains surround us in every direction and their shear intensity is quietly present. We found the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute (anyone looking for a good gift for me - a mountaineering course would be PERFECT:) and grave of Tenzing Norgay, the first Sherpa up Everest with Sir Edmond Hillary, the zoo and Tibetan Self-Help center. We had dinner with a guy traveling from Australia and called it a night. It is cold here and we had to buy hats and mittens. The guest house owner brought hot water bottles for our feet during sleep - oh so nice.
This morning we got up at 0430 to see the sunrise above Tiger Mountain. It was spectacular, truly an experience I will never forget. The world's highest mountains were within eyesight. We decided to walk back to town (took about 3 hours) and visited a Buddhist temple. The whole area is serene. The streets are lined with prayer flags and merchants. Colorful cashmere scarfs and wool hats dot the sidewalk. I could stay here forever. We are off to visit the famous Darjeeling tea plantations and hopefully catch up on a little rest. Overnight train tomorrow back to Calcutta and the heat.

Only 10 minutes

I went for a short early morning run in the Khardah countryside today. It was really nice to breathe in the less-polluted air and not see many people on the streets. A man on a rickshaw came behind me and at first I thought he was just getting a closer look at this strange woman running early in the day but as he sprinted ahead, then slowed down, then went fast again I realized he was challenging me to a race. He has a grin on his face and we raced to the end of the street. He smiled again, turned and rode away.
We went to the station with some volunteers from CRAWL that live in India. Today was t-shirt day and we handed out blue shirts to around 60 kids. One of the young girls pulled a volunteer named Bobby (from India) aside and whispered in her ear. Bobby responded and went back to handing out clothes. Ann and I saw the sad look in the child's eyes and asked Bobby what had happened. She responded that a young girl was raped last night and she wanted us to come look at her. Immediately Ann and I were ready to go find her but Bobby said we could go in '10 minutes' or so after we hand out clothes.' TEN MINUTES! There was no way clothing was the priority here so we took off searching the station. We finally returned and found the young girl and her mom sitting on the station floor. She was smiling and eating bread. This little one was no more than 4 years old. We took her aside and did an examination. She had obviously been raped. We cleaned her up, gave mom some medicine and promised to check in on her the next day. At home, referrals to multiple child advocacy programs would have been made but in India this is an everyday occurrence which explains Bobby's lack of urgency. The rest of the morning, this young girl clung to us, giving us hugs and kisses. I wish I could pack her in my suitcase as my most treasured souvenir.
Today on the street we also found a man with severe leprosy. His foot was filled with hundreds of maggots and bugs. His toe bones were dangling on his severed foot like string. We fed, cleaned and dressed his wounds. We did the rest of the 'rounds' and headed on the bus home.
Needless to say, I am more than excited to take a few days in the Himalayas. We leave on the overnight train at 1900. More to come....Katie

Twins?

Just returned from Shealdah station for morning wound care and feeding the children. Although I try to be equal to all of the kids there are always a few that steal your heart. The coffee brown, almond shaped eyes of a young girl at the station absolutely takes my breath away. When she sees us coming she yells "auntie" and runs, jumps and attaches herself to us. I have a hard time putting her down when it is time to do work.
A lot of what we see is so graphic that it is hard to describe (don't worry, I have plenty of pictures). Today for example, we walked upon a man who had his arm hidden under a blanket. His friends motioned us and we took a look. His forearm was contorted into a letter Z, obviously badly broken and painful. He had fashioned a splint which was covered in bugs. I took a deep breath, reached for the medical bag and Ann and I went to work. We made a splint with newspaper and tape and wrapped a Kerlex around it. He looked hungry so we gave him a bag of food and moved on. Just to get an idea of the environment where we clean wounds, this is what I saw when I looked around. We were sitting on the floor of the station. To the right was a group of men smoking heroin. Behind us were cows, pigs and dogs running everywhere, including on us. In front, crowds of people pushed and shoved to get onto the train. Needless to say, it is hard to keep any kind of 'clean' environment to promote wound healing.
I moved to the entrance of the station where Ann had set up shop. She motioned for me to come. ***Warning - anyone with a squeamish stomach should stop now*** A man was lying on the ground crying in pain. Ann showed me his scrotum, which was swollen to the size of tennis balls. The skin was broken down into a seeping, black wound approx. 2 inches x 2 inches. He was feverish and looked like he could go into shock. We asked what had happened via a Bengali translator and we could never get a clear answer. The trouble with our organization is that unless it is something that can be fixed with basic medical equipment, we can't do much. One option is the government hospital where people wait for days to be seen or to the Mother Teresa house which is recovering from a law suit and has a stringent screening process. We cleaned his wound, covered it and directed him to Mother Teresa. After finishing with him, a man pulled me aside and showed me his groin covered in STD's. Another guy with confirmed TB 5 years ago showed up last night coughing up blood. We are fighting here at the front lines for some of the world's sickest people and while everyday I feel changed both personally and as a nurse, I still struggle with the eternal question we face of ... what else can we do?
The title of this blog refers to the train ride home. A man was talking with me and asked about my 'friend' (Ann). He asked if she was my twin. I said 'friend?', no 'twin' he said. I said no and he smiled and said, 'you look the exact same.' I told him ' we get that all the time', chuckled and got off the train...Katie

I, Irenic

I think the short 'honeymoon' phase of India is over and now we are down to the nitty gritty. This is the stuff that makes coming here so great. The day to day ideosyncracisies of the power going out for 8 hours, no food being delivered and the good old 'hurry up and wait' mentality that plagues us here. Even though it is frustrating, it is so wonderful.
In just a short week we are establishing continutity of care with many of the people in the slums. Today we worked at the Dum Dum station and followed up with a man whose wounds we dress every day and there seemed to be improvement this morning. I searched everywhere for the man with leprosy but he was not to be found. We know were people are and how to find them now. Looking under stairs, boxes and train tracks, sometimes it feels like 'Where's Waldo' seeking out people. We are following a women who had surgery some time ago to remove piles. She is feverish everyday and I am afraid she might get septic. We bring her food, medicine and spend time with her children. I am afraid that some day we might not find her in the stairwell she calls home, another woman lost to disease and another child left behind. It is so hard to see these things and not be able to help much. We are coordinating care and checking in on her twice a day.
Other than the medical care, daily life is good. Ann and I are planning a trip to the Himalayas this weekend and other short day trips on our off time. This evening we will return to the train station and do more wound care, wash babies and feed children. I'm sure many stories will come from another 'shift' here and I will write more later...Katie

Men v. Women

Just got back from a day in Kolkata. Annie and I saw our first 'Bollywood' movie, the Indian version of the big screen. Instead of a plot, this movie seemed to be all about...SONG AND DANCE! We bought our tickets at the fancy mall and after a detailed search of our bags we entered the theatre. The usher escorted us to the last seats in the last row and curiously asked us if we understood Hindi. We smiled and said no. He gave us the confused Indian head nod and left us alone to enjoy the movie. It was surprisingly entertaining given we didn't understand one word they were saying.
After the movie we returned home on the infamous train. We opted for the women's car hoping to escape the groping and torture of the men's compartment. Unfortunately what we found was a far worse experience. We were almost pushed out of the train before we could even get on. Once inside, women yelled, screamed and pushed almost to the point of being dangerous. I flattened out as much as possible against the wall, closed my eyes and prayed I would make it unscathed. I looked for Annie but only saw a tapestry of color draped on sardine packed women's car. Another volunteer eloquently described getting off the train as being 'birthed' and I think that is an accurate description. With tousled hair and bruised bodies we hobbled back to the flat. Before calling it a night we took some prescriptions for the homeless to the 'pharmacy' to be filled. What an experience! The pharmacist looked at our torn slips of paper without dates, details and even a MD's name and gave us a nicely wrapped package of pills. We will have to look up the medications and try and educate the people on how to use them properly. Just another Indian quirk I guess but who can complain...Rx antibiotics for less than 2 US dollars!

The morning train...

We missed the early train this morning and took the 6:00 into Dum Dum. It is always and adventure getting on the train and this morning was no different. We searched for biscuits, bananas and peanuts for the kids and began making our rounds. The first guy we found needed his ankle wound cleaned. We treated him yesterday and today there were signs of improvement. His neighbor in the newspaper shack to the right protectively held his leg while his family encouraged him to show us. Eventually he did and we found a deep tissue necrotic wound that he decided to treat by pouring oil on top and covering with paper. I did my best to clean and bandage him and promised to return tomorrow and do it again. The rest of the morning was filled with a variety of ailments....warts, cuts, fevers and broken bones. The most striking was a man with leprosy whose left foot looked like hamburger and was dripping with blood. His bones, muscles and skin were dangling off his dilapidated foot, which was infested with maggots. After a deep clean and LOTS of bandages we left wondering if we had done any good. It would likely be removed within an hour of us leaving but we promised to return and care for him again tomorrow. Oops, gotta go - off to Calcutta, write more later...Katie

Bandaids and Bengals

OK, so enough relying on Ann to do all of the blogging, I will now post on this site. Impressions from India so far...
Things in India are always changing. One second I love it and the next I feel like I could scream (usually after I step into some unidentifiable mess in the street). We arrived in Calcutta a few days ago and were immediately immersed in Indian life. We are truly living like locals in a slum near Calcutta called Khardah. Our street is a noisy maze of people, rickshaws and cows. Life here is like driving in rush hour. Fast and busy then slamming on the brakes. You never know what to expect.
The most interesting part of life so far is riding the train. Imagine hundreds of people lining the platform, pushing and shoving to squeeze into an already overfilled space. Any sense of 'personal space' immediately goes out the window with the smoke of the men's cigars. It is a struggle just to stay standing and not get sucked into the abyss of people. You cling to anything you can..a handle, chicken rack, small child....anything works? As a white woman on the train it is a whole different picture. Even though there are hundreds of people around, every eye is focused on you. They stare blatantly and intently, I wonder what they are thinking...are these girls lost? Did they get off the wrong plane on the way to Australia? Some touch you, poke you or just whisper to their neighbor about you. It is hard not to feel self-concious but I have now started to wink and small when people stare and eventually they give in a recipricate with a tiny grin.
We do wound care at the train station. It is the melting pot of Indian daily life. Some people rush to work, others beg for food and many sleep on newspapers on the sidewalk. I hear 20% of Indians live on the streets and I believe it. There are three of us doing medical work. We carry a suitcase of supplies and set up shop on the curb. People flock to us in herds. I have seen some of the most tragic images of my life. Women giving birth on the street, men offering us heroin while we dress their wounds, maggots and bugs in deep cuts and babies so obviously malnourished it makes you want to cry. The interesting thing about volunteering here is how quickly you must cope with seeing these things on a daily basis. If you stop and think too much about the situation you are in, it becomes too unbearable. I focus on the children's smiles and the true look of appreciation from people who are for the most part, forgotten by the world. There is so much to write but I can only process fragments at a time. I will write more later....Katie
--Oh yeah, forgot to mention - first day in India while taking a cab into town we saw a man get hit by a car and fly into the street. The car didn't stop, people helped him move out of the way and then everyone went on with their business...crazy.