Rain, Rain, Go Away

My time here in India has been filled with contrasts. I first noticed this during a trip to the city of Bangalore. Bangalore is known as the IT hub of India and is also one of the richest cities in India. As I walked down its bustling streets, the vibe was drastically different from that of Vikravandi, the closest marketplace to St. Pat’s. Simple things like the chatter that filled the air had a less urgent tone or watching people casually shop was also something that I had not seen in awhile. Although I did not feel like I was walking down the streets of New York City, I did see a significant difference in lifestyle from city life to rural life. After this, I could not help to think about the economic condition of this country. Foreign investment is being poured into India, unlike ever before. As this is happening, the gap between the rich and the poor is expanding every day. With that, I reflect on rural life. Life here is far from easy. The days are not long enough to complete the tasks that fulfill even the most basic needs. This includes washing, cleaning, cooking, attending to family needs…etc. The time that laundry machines, vacuums and ovens save is extraordinary. I am witnessing the perpetual cycle of poverty and, as the days go on, I become more and more aware of how truly difficult their lives are. A few nights ago the electricity went out and I was sitting downstairs on the veranda with a few of the boys watching heavy rainfall. One of the boys moaned something and I asked him if he was okay. He said that he was missing his mother and that he does not like rain. He said, “It is very difficult to live in my village.” He explained to me that there are times when his family cannot eat because the wood to heat the stove is very wet. My eyes started to swell with tears watching this boy sit there in the dark at the age of twelve worrying about his family knowing there was nothing he could do about it. Currently, it is the start of the rainy season and the excessive rainfall is only going to make their difficult lives inevitably more difficult.

Pictures

Post-It notes and Bazooka Bubble gum!

I have been at St. Patricks for over a month and it has been a truly life-changing experience! Before I tell about the many new and exciting experiences I have had here, I would like to explain how I came to my decision to visit rural India and dedicate some of my time to Dalit Solidarity.

During the winter, I had the opportunity to participate in the Service Adventures Program with Dalit Solidarity. I really did not know much about the Indian culture but, as soon as I read the description of the program, I knew it was something I wanted and needed to do. From the moment I arrived here, I knew my life was forever changed. I came with fourteen other students from Villanova University. We participated in the many facets of Dalit Solidarity… the Early Detection Preventative System (EDPS) healthcare program where we took surveys in the local villages, worked at the soccer camp, taught swimming lessons, instructed the Dalit Leadership Academy (DLA) students, traveled around the area, and spent time learning about the culture and the many sad realities that exist in India, especially in rural India. Because the Indian culture is so defined by the caste system and the people that live in rural India are either Dalits, formally known as untouchables, or lower caste members, these individuals have faced much discrimination, alienation and have been deprived of so much. Dalit Solidarity provides opportunities to many of these individuals.

The time I spent with these extraordinary children, each with such promise, made a lasting impression on me. It broke my heart when it was time to go after two very fast weeks. I have been on other service trips throughout my college experience, but there was something very powerful about this experience and this organization. Since then, a day has not gone by where I have not reflected on my time spent there. So, four months later, I could not wait to pay another visit to the children that made such an impact on my life.

Coming back to rural India for a longer period of time has been an enlightening and, at the same time, a disquieting experience. It began with a three-hour car ride from the airport, which was all too similar to a ride on the Superman roller coaster, where I saw amazing wildlife roaming the country, such as elephants and masses of goats and cows. I arrived at St. Patrick’s Home at six o’clock in the morning greeted with flowers and forty- seven children with the most infectious smiles I have ever seen! At that moment, I knew I made the right decision. For the next month, I would be able to work on many fun projects here. I would teach the new students English and observe the progress the previous DLA students made in their fluency since January. They really are progressing well! With the help of Cynthia, a graduate student from the UK, we built a small library, a simple place for the students to use their creativity through reading, writing and drawing. I have started to work on the business aspect of the organization focusing on compiling financial statements and budgets. For most people this would be a daunting and tedious task but I have come to really enjoy it not to mention how much I have been able to learn. Witnessing many of the students have their first western shower was very fun, they absolutely loved it! The students ask me everyday if they can use the showers so we have made a shower schedule which the students are thrilled about! Everyday the children continue to impress me and are shaping me into a better person. Whether it is watching their dedication as they study or how they all take care of one another or the way they decorate my room with personalized Post-It notes or their appreciation for the littlest things– all the things I take for granted- such as pens, pencils, soccer balls, Bazooka Bubble gum, or even legos!

Aside from teaching and the fun activities here on the St. Patrick’s campus, I also visited and conversed with a lot of different people. Each time I met someone new, they would thank me for my presence here. They viewed me as a person from the U.S. choosing to sit with them when I have many other options. In reality, I am indebted to them forever for this experience. They have shown me a far greater way to live – with love and compassion. These two words have greatly changed the way I see the world and how to live my life. This change is not because of the love and compassion I have given during my visits but rather the love and compassion I have received from so many here. One story that exemplifies their compassionate ways occurred during my visit to the hospital. I thought I had come down with a case of the scabies. As I sat in the waiting room with about fifty other people, all eyes were on me. I began to feel silly as I sat there with a few red bumps, while many of the people in the room were visibly in a lot of pain; this included a two week old baby who looked very ill. To make matters worse, everyone was insisting that I should not wait in line. Of course, I waited for my turn. While waiting, people would approach me to give me their condolences, invite me to their house for dinner, take pictures, and (drum roll for this one…) ask me for my autograph! Haha! Anyway…I went into see the doctor and it turns out I was just attacked my tiny mosquitoes! I am glad that I waited my turn!

Needless to say, I have greatly enjoyed my time here and am sad that I only have one more month left. Stay tuned for more…

Blood is Thicker Than Holy Water

By Kristen Bilous

I'm not claiming to be an expert in religion but I always thought one universal belief was to "love thy neighbor." Well, for some reason unbeknownst to me, the small village of Eraiyur in Tamil Nadu believes that they are excused from this major commandment. A few weeks after arriving in India I had the great privilege (or should I say disturbing opportunity) to visit this rural contentious area.

Although a majority of the village population is Christian, the Hindu caste system is alive and well. This is how segregated life in the village is conducted: There is one church for the castes and one for the Dalits, one funeral hearse for the castes and a separate one for the Dalits, one cemetery for the castes and another for the Dalits, every celebratory festival must be carried out separately and the Dalits have been denied access to use the main road for any for of procession.  Prejudice, oppression and humiliation have been practiced against the Dalits here for over a hundred hears. At the time I visited Eraiyur the small minority of Dalits had finally decided to take action against the generations of discrimination and were in the process of petitioning for their separate parish to be recognized by the diocese. Infinite years of religious history should tell you how this ends...So in the second week of March, violence broke out, leaving two caste men dead. They were shot while police attempted to bring order after an unprovoked attack on the Dalits and their property. Also, let it be noted that five schoolteachers took part in the violence against the untouchable class. 

So after visiting this village and speaking with its Dalits and even a few caste members, I am still wondering why caste discrimination is still being practiced in the tiny Christian community. I can tell you first hand the extravagant mega church that stands is more than big enough for all the village Catholics. And whatever happened to the house of God? Are not all of us supposed to be his children? Brothers and sisters of the human race? Upon landing in India, I thought that maybe just maybe Christianity was the answer to the oppressive Hindu caste system. But I guess this current situation refutes that theory. It also would appear that history, tradition and culture take precedence over humanity, compassion and love. Perhaps the great Dr. Ambedkar, a pioneer of the Dalit rights, was onot something when he chose to convert from hinduism to Buddhism over Christianity in 1956. 

More recently, after decades of denial, the local archbishop has finally acknowledged there is a problem in Eraiyur and he will be proactive in combatting the discrimination. One of his first steps was demanding that the church allow Dalits entrance, the main road be open to their processions and the caste hearse be used. To which the castes countered with scrubbing clean the church immediately after the Dalits used it, lining the main road in silent protest and vandalizing the hearse vehicle.  Oh and in their latest response, they all claim they will convert to Hinduism. I suppose so they can finally practice their "god-given right" to discrimination in peace.

Eraiyur Devastation

A Very Tamil Birthday

Kristen Bilous

The past few weeks here at St. Pat’s have been fairly tame. I am happy to report the children’s spoken English is progressing quite nicely. Their sentence structures improve everyday and I can’t help but wonder if I was able to retain that much information when I was 11 years old.  Speaking of which, I am working on my own Tamil language lessons. But seeing as my memory is not what it used to be, I just can’t seem remember as much as I would like.  The children do a good job teaching me vocabulary (I am fluent with most farm animals, fruits, vegetables and parts of the sky) and Brother Philip has been very helpful with my pronunciation of common Tamil phrases.  I usually put my knowledge to the test while at the Sunday market.  Last week I had a wonderful conversation with a 4 year old. Yes, I am now successfully speaking at a pre-school level! 

 

I also feel as though I am living on Noah’s Ark.  Not only have we had two to very unseasonable days of heavy rain, but the school is also abuzz with babies (or kootie in Tamil).  Currently on the property, we have: 4 puppies, a couple of ferial dogs, 2 baby bats and a nest consisting of 3 tiny baby squirrels (which look like our chipmunks only gray in color with a bushy tail) and an undetermined specie of bird egg.

 

But my most exciting news is that I had the great fortune of celebrating my birthday last weekend. If I had it my way, I would spend every birthday at St. Pat’s.  Everyone made me feel so special.  The entire day was filled with love and affection and I am still buzzing from its events.  I should have known it was going to be a grand affair when the kids started wishing me “Happy Advance Birthday” a week before!  My fabulous adventure began much like that of a bride on her wedding day.  At 7:30am, I had an entire swat team of children in my room applying makeup, painting my nails, doing my hair and helping me into my sari.  I must admit this is no easy task and learning to self-sufficiently cloth myself in a sari is on my India to do list. Nearly an hour later (extra time was needed to reapply the makeup that scarily resembled that of Tammy Faye Baker), I was ready for my unveiling and all the children applauded as I was escorted down the steps.  They all raved that I finally looked like a Tamil Nadu girl.  I told them I felt like a Tamil Nadu  Princess!  

 

Following my grand entrance, I was seated into a chair where I was showered with cards and floral bouquets.  With my mouth agape, I was truly speechless as flower after flower and card after card were bestowed to me.  Each one was as creative and special as the previous and never in my life have I received so many flowers. Just when I thought all gifts were given, I was handed a beautiful plaque with my name and birthday greetings written on it.  But we were just getting started!  Next came the singing and then the cake.  Reminiscent again of a wedding, I was fed a bite from the first piece of cake and in return fed it to one of the girls and then repeated with one of the boys.  Next it was time for me to teach class.  What started out as a lesson in English song lyrics quickly turned into an American dance party.  I showed them my “American dance moves” and by the end we were all panting and giddy with joy.  I also discovered how confining and hot a sari really can be.  It was at this time that one of the priests paid me a visit and presented me with a beautiful red and purple paisley shawl.  After a delicious lunch, I introduced Pin the Tail on the Monkey on my cut-out-the-night-before-make-shift poster.  I decided to alter the title to be more conducive to my Indian environment.  Plus, I totally love monkeys and I could not find a picture of a donkey to save my life!  Anyway, the game was a total success and the children still have the poster hanging and can be spotted playing it during free time. The rest of the day continued with more love and compliments and by its end a feeling of euphoria was permeating throughout my entire body!  I still smile at the thought of having shared such a delightful birthday in such a magical place.