You Give an Inch, We Take a Mile

I went to the orphanage today, like I have been doing for the past three days. Here is some info about Balagurukulam Orphanage run by Ranjith (last name?): Every morning, weekends included, we get up and leave the guest house sometime around 9:15. We tell the driver to come at 9:30, so he shows up at 9. This is the opposite of Indian time. More on that concept later. At 9:15 or so we make our way through the morning, I mean daily, traffic in our small blue van sans shock absorbers. I don't really know how to describe the car, but it is shaped like a mini hippie van, I guess. It's boxy. So we get out of the car an hour later, walking a bit funny from the bouncing and our now-sore bums. It is now sometime around 10:15 and the kids who don't go to school are finishing their breakfast of yogurt rice and lemon chutney. About 15 kids go to school everyday. The oldest girl- seventh grade- attends an all-girls school and has to take a bus because it is far. I think the other kids walk to a nearby school. On weekdays, the kids who are left are the millions of pooping toddlers, three infants, and a couple older boys who don't go to school because they help out around the place. The oldest kid there is a 14 year-old boy who doesn't attend school. During the day, he cooks, cleans, builds stuff, and does lots of chores for Ranjith. All the kids call Ranjith "Samji" (spelling?), which is a term of respect for their father. There are 4-5 "sisters" who live there and take care of the kids all day. The title of this entry is representative of their attitude toward us Western volunteers and the general attitude of India towards Western visitors. Today, Sarah (a volunteer from Canada) walked into the main room which houses the toddlers and the sisters passed a bunch of kids to her and left. This was especially bad because there is a diarrhea bug going around, so that yellow goo on their legs is not fun to get a handful of. This is a common occurrence. But, back to the daily schedule.
I wander around for a while, saying hi to everyone. All the kids love to say "good morning, sister!" and do a salute or shake my hand. Calling us "sister" or "acaw" in Tamil is a sign of respect and way easier than remembering our difficult names. The other sisters say good morning by putting their hand to the forehead. We do the same. Then, I usually make my way up to the infant room where I can find three babies "stewing in their own poo" is how we call it. They are wide awake, ready to get out of their scarf hammocks and the diarrhea pile they have been lying in for who knows how long. We clean them off, powder them, then they cry because they are hungry. It takes a while for Mala, the sister in charge of the infants, to get the boiled tap water to mix up the formula. When it finally comes, the kids are so happy. They drink until their stomachs are beach balls. At this point, Mala has left. About a half-hour later, she comes back in, lights incense, dresses the kids, wipes their bums (or has us do it), powders them, then lays out a mat for them on the floor, instead of them lying on a dirty rag. This scurry to look presentable tells us Ranjith is close. A few minutes later, he walks up and checks out the kiddies. He sees Mala holding a happy baby sucking a bottle wearing a clean dress, me with the same, and one other on the mat whose belly I am rubbing. He smiles, coos at them, then leaves. Then, Mala either takes a nap, plays with a toddler (her favorite follows her around), wipes herself off from getting peed/pooped on, or leaves. I (or another volunteer) stay with the kids and feed them more, then wipe them up from the body waste they just excreted, then wipe up ourselves from the same. We take turns hanging out with the little ones. I much prefer to stay with them over the mass of screaming, smelly toddlers in the main room. I also like the bigger kids, but they are usually busy with chores. We hang out, wiping bums, until around 2:00. This is lunchtime, and we go to the atrium area and have a delicious lunch that Ranjith and the oldest boy prepared. It is traditional Indian: rice and a variety of toppings. Usually an Indian lunch consists of rice and sambar, yellow curry stew with vegetables, and some vegetable mixture. Today it was beans and peppers, spiced potatoes, and rice with sambar-like yellow curry. I love it, but it really doesn't fill me up. For the moment, I am very full, but a few hours later, I am scrounging for snacks. I miss protein. After lunch, we do more caring for the babies and playing with the other kids. Today, I took part in a makeshift cricket game with the much-used deflated soccer ball that was very difficult to hit because it is so big compared to a tennis ball. Around 4, the driver comes to pick us up and we pile into the van for an adventuresome ride back home. Driving in India is absolutely crazy, chaotic, and without any discipline. There isn't much swearing out the window or waving of the middle-finger salute, I guess that is all avoided by the sheer thrill of driving up the wrong side of the road. On the road here, it is all about size. Trucks rule, then come the ambassador honkers, then regular cars, rickshaws, motorcycles, and bicycles. We are somewhere in between ambassadors and regular cars. It is thrilling no matter which vehicle you choose, I will assure you. But, pick wisely, for there is no turning back once you are out there. More info to come on the food, textbook reasons for poverty, and the sizzling browny (spelled just like that) sundae I had for dinner last night. Now, I'm off to watch a movie and sleep! I am taking the day off tomorrow, so I will write another entry then. Ciao!