Mistaken Identity

February 23, 2013

Mistaken Identity

I've never had quite the experience as the one I had today.  After our morning ritual of yoga and breakfast, my half of the group headed to a safe house run by Women's Interlink Foundation (WIF) and housing a Made By Survivors work space.  Before heading to the Nijoloy Shelter Home (run by WIF) we stopped for a wander through a local morning market.  It was bustling with activity...people buying food, newspapers and flowers.  Being an avid photographer my Nikon was kept busy snapping at what seemed like every turn.  This place is so vibrant and we continue to catch the attention of many onlookers.

As we arrived at the shelter home, a few young girls greeted us. One of them saw me and came flying out of the pack, making a bee-line straight toward me and wrapping her arms around my waist with great familiarity.  To my surprise, she was overly happy to see me and began chattering away with great joy and excitement.  She wouldn't let go of my hand and began to lead me into the grounds of the home, still chattering away.  

I asked the translator if she thought I was someone else.  After a few moments of listening to her story, the translator began to tell me that she thought I had been there on January 23 of this year.  He told her that it wasn't me, but she was insistent and began to realize that I looked like a woman who had been at the home.  This young girl continued on that she doesn't have any parents and this lady was so kind and compassionate that she wanted to leave with her.  As this young girls story unfolded, tears began to form in her eyes, realizing that I wasn't the one.  That I wasn't the one who was going to remove her and take her to another life.

Yet, she still clung to me, or more likely to the idea of me.  She was insistent and attached, leading me along our tour of the home, sitting next to me as we began our yoga class and barely taking her hand away to maintain physical contact.

During our tour, the founder of WIF, Aloka Mitra, the 73-year old I referred to in an earlier post arrived and welcomed us to sit with her for morning tea.  She spoke extensively about her vision of empowering women, of various challenges her organization has faced and amazing moments of well-timed gifts and support.  As we concluded, I hugged Aloka to say thank you for all that she's done throughout her career, during which my young friend came up to Aloka.  Although I don't speak Bengali, I could tell the girl was telling Aloka about me, again with tears welling up.  Aloka gently spoke to the girl, who began to loosen her grip on me.

I just couldn't imagine what was going on in this young persons head and experience.  That she seemed to truly think I (or someone who looked like me) came back for her.  And then her dream was blown apart because of mistaken identity.  You could tell she so wanted the story to be true, like the fairy tale that keeps young girls dreams alive.

Unfortunately, the reality was different from the dream and more than one heart was broken.  I realized that my role in all of this is simply to love.  To hold the space to offer compassion, to open my heart to sorrow, to breathe deeply into the moment and to realize that love is the most powerful tonic of all.

Love is all there is...let it flow.

Soccer Balls, Block Prints and Red Lights

February 22, 2013

Soccer Balls, Block Prints and Red Lights

We began today with a long bus ride to Sanlaap (Bengali for dialogue) visiting the complex where we are funding the construction of two buildings.  Girls rescued from the trade are housed here for anywhere between 2 days and 5 years.  They are given 3-months of intensive care whether it be legal, medical or emotional upon their initial arrival.  The highlights for me were playing with new soccer balls that one of our Seva sisters hauled from the States, seeing the construction of a building we are funding and making a batik block print scarf.  The girl that was teaching me was encouraging, giving me a big thumbs up when I did it right and pointing to her head indicating how "clever" I was.

And today was also the day we went through one of the Red Light districts of Kolkata called Bowbazar.  Initially I wasn't quite certain as to what we were going to actually be doing but came to learn that we were to visit a child drop in center for the kids of prostitutes in that area.  We were told to leave our cameras in the van, so I have to rely on my own inner lens to recall the scene.

Kolkata is much greener than New Delhi and without the number of high rise buildings, so it has a sense of being more open.  That is until you begin to weave your way through the older, narrow streets of the red light district.  With narrow lane ways, the buildings appear taller and cast a darker hue over the streets.  As we began our walk, I noticed small stalls with various foot or hand powered machines, people going about their business, mostly men and with a parade of 13 white people they began to pay us more attention than we'd probably prefer.  You could feel a sense of anxiety within the group, coming face to face with the place and people implicitly involved in the exploitation of women.  

And then we came across our first brothel where the women were standing outside of a narrow doorway, watching the parade of foreigners.  I turned to my buddy and said, "is this a brothel?" to which she quietly nodded "yes".  Then she said, "I feel like I want to throw up".  We kept walking and thankfully she kept it together.  We then turned down an even narrower path which led us to the drop-in center, a cramped space with about 17 young boys, 4 young girls and their handful of teachers.  Add 13 of us into a space approximately 10 x 30 ft and you get the picture of the spatial intensity of our situation.  The kids were mostly head down, drawing madly, with a few peeking up to see who was stepping through the curtain doorway.

In we piled, shoes off, squatting tightly together.  The kids then began introducing themselves to us, saying something like "My name is Ganesh.  I am in year seven".  We were then treated to dancing by three of the four girls, a skit by two of the boys, more dancing by the boys and then more dancing with three of the people from our group joining in.  Despite the room becoming hot and stuffy, we clapped along, laughed at their antics and got a glimpse into how these highly at risk kids have an opportunity to learn and play, in a safe and caring environment.

The interesting experience for me was on our walk out of the district.  I was looking around, so incredibly curious as to the place and people.  I noticed the old buildings, the waxing Gibbous moon in the indigo sky and my feeling of wanting to find out more.  It wasn't as bad as I had anticipated.  In fact, I thought some aspects were beautiful which I by no means want to diminish the hideous nature of the underbelly business and trade happening within its midst.

It hit me that having seen a few different red light districts in my travels, in Amsterdam, Bangkok, Sydney and now Kolkata that I wondered how many other areas I've been in and simply missed it by being distracted by the old beauty and the everydayness of the place.  How many times have I walked straight past the suffering of someone and been too self-involved or naive to believe it could be anything else than a wonderful scene?

This experience is intense.  Our group has been experiencing a multitude of emotions and reactions.  I feel honored to be bearing witness to suffering in the company of people who want to make a difference.  And we are making a difference.  We've chosen to step into the discomfort, to look into the eyes of others seeking a better life and are doing what we know to invite a shift.

Perhaps the biggest shift will happen within each of us and that's ok.  I know that hope exists and I would rather be an active participant than someone who turns a blind eye.

Sadness and Hope

February 21, 2013

Sadness and Hope

Today, our group split up with half of us going to Made By Survivors (MBS) and the Child Care Home (CCH), the others to Sanlaap.  After morning yoga and breakfast, we met in the hotel lobby to re-distribute the abundant donations that many of us had hauled over from the States and Canada...medical supplies, nail polish, art supplies, toys and games.  I am still blown away by the generosity of not only my community, but the entire collective of communities throughout this Seva Challenge.  

We arrived at the gated Child Care Home and gently entered into the outdoor large patio type space.  Our group leader, Suzanne Sterling was immediately greeted by a few girls as she has become a familiar face to many of them.  CCH is a place where about 75 young girls live full-time and how they've come to the home is varied but include; mothers who are prostitutes, giving them up, not wanting them to become prostitutes; by kids being dropped off as their families are unable to care for them; and children who've simply been abandoned.

The founder of the home and Women's Interlink Foundation, Aloka Mitra, a regal and radiant 74-year old woman, is known for offering care to girls and women of any age or circumstance.   Later in the afternoon, I was fortunate to meet her and she sincerely wanted to connect with us from OTM.  As she shook my hand and welcomed me, she gently touched my face-a pure sign of warmth and affection, a quality that is so needed with this population of young girls.  You could see she was the respected and loved matriarch.

Throughout the morning we did yoga with the girls, taking turns leading with a highlight being a portion taught by Josh, the only male in our group.  He did laughing yoga with the girls and was able to raise the pitch and intensity of the laughter as we went along.  He was brilliant in being fun, loving and completely non-threatening and the girls responded beautifully to his energy.  

The rest of the day was spent playing games, coloring, Mehndi (henna) taking photos (which we printed out on the spot and gave to the girls) and being with one of the budding jewelry makers.  Mousumi was my "teacher" but really didn't let me do much in the way of cutting, sanding, polishing or stamping the metal.  However, I did watch her craft out a piece just for me...a heart with "Mousumi & Free" stamped onto it.

As our 3 o'clock departure  neared, we began saying our good-byes.  The entire day had been filled with many hugs and moments of hand holding, a search for connection, affection and love.  One of the younger girls, likely around age 5, came to give me a hug and as I bent down, I just picked her up.  Her little body simply melted into mine and I could feel my own heart not only melt, but begin to break.  I just kept holding her and tears began to roll down my face with such a simple act of human connection.  It was difficult to leave, wondering what the future holds for these girls.  They are in a place where they are safe, given food, and when they turn 16 a chance to gain a skill as a jeweler.  They are off the streets and we are part of that, but I still couldn't let go of the feeling of wanting to do more.

How do you leave a hug behind?

A Day With Apne Aap

February 20, 2013

A Day With Apne Aap

I'm sitting here in the domestic terminal of Delhi airport awaiting our call to board our delayed flight to Kolkata.  It's the perfect time for reflection on the amazing day with Apne Aap yesterday.

Following morning yoga and an opening circle, we headed to an international complex, home to many non-profits including Apne Aap, founded 10 years ago by the powerhouse, Ruchira Gupta.  They have offices in New Delhi, Kolkata and Bihar.   As we waited for a presentation by the director,  Dr. Abhilasha Kumari, we were given a super sweet chai igniting much chatter between the challengers (too much caffeine or sugar perhaps?).  

Apne Aap is an organization whose primary focus is the prevention of at risk women and girls getting into the sex trade.  The other focus (about 20%) is on the rehabilitation of girls/women who've been removed from the trade.  They were quite proud to tell us of the legislation they have before the Indian parliament to:

1.  Make the level of violence against women more visible through civil punishment for pimps, traffickers and brothel owners.

2.  To decriminalize the prostitute and recognize them as victims.

3.  To prosecute the johns/buyers by addressing the question of demand.

Apne Aaps view is that any level of prostitution IS violence against women and that no woman should be bought or sold.  To empower women, teach them about their fundamental rights and give them skills to integrate independently into society is paramount.  They have created 10 assets as part of the process and include:

1.  Safe Houses

2.  Nine Friends-form into groups of 10

3.  Education

4.  Political Knowledge

5.  Self confidence-the ability to articulate publicly

6.  Ability to address authorities

7.  Savings, "inter-loans" and a bank account to give them a mainstream identity

8.  Vocational training and life skills

9.  Legal knowledge, realizing they have rights and what are the laws (i.e, you cannot be bought or sold by any person including your father)

10. Linkage to two government services (food, housing & job cards)

It's basically to teach them how to live within their own lives and the organization is inspired by the Gandhian philosophy of looking at the "last one".  This is the most marginalized child, with most girls trafficked between the ages of 8-14.

All of this was brought into full life with our afternoon visit to a safe house on the outskirts of Delhi in the Najafgargh district.  Our huge bus pulled into the narrow streets and 20 people looking like a small parade, walked to the safe house.  As we approached we could hear this wave of children's voices grabbing our attention as they cheered and waved like crazy.  Entering the house, we were welcomed with a blessing of a tikka (red dot on the forehead) as we shook countless little hands to the sounds of "Hello!  How are you?  What is your name?".

Cramming ourselves into a small, pink room, we sat on the floor and were welcomed.  We then had a chaotic tour to the sewing room and computer room, before being herded back into the small pink room for chai and veggie samosas.  Proceeding onto the roof of the safe house, we were part of a celebration of exuberance.  Bollywood type music playing, some of the young girls would stand up and dance (a choreographed number), lip syncing throughout.  They encouraged us to join us with it ending in a huge mosh pit of jumping, clapping, dancing and ultimately smiling faces.

One of the workers with Apne Aap said that these girls were at high risk of being trafficked with many of their mothers being prostitutes.  Often, they would have evening clients and wouldn't get home until the morning, leaving the girls to look after the housework and drop out of school.  As they danced, with pure joy on their faces, I commented how happy they seemed.  She replied, "this is the only place they can dance as they want, do things as they want.  It's their place and they have no such opportunities at home."  I commented, "so, this is the place where they can be children."  To which she shyly smiled and said, "yes".

Seeing the Apne Aap structure in action, offering children insight, knowledge and options was truly heart expanding and hopeful.  It felt that through supporting the work of Apne Aap that we ARE making a difference.  That these kids might know something besides the life of a prostitute.

As we left to shouts of "Bye  Didi" (auntie/big sister), many hugs and waving hands, you could sense the uplifted mood of all of us.

Amidst such poverty and challenge, we witnessed light.

A Day In Delhi

February 18, 2013

We are like a drop of ink in a pool of water, slowly expanding outward.  This morning at breakfast, we met Megan from Ottawa and invited her to join us for a day of exploring New Delhi with a car and driver.  The four of us, (including Page & Tammy) headed out with our first intended stop being the Gandhi Smriti, the property where Mahatma Gandhi spent his final 144 days and where he was assassinated.  It's now a museum and traces his footsteps onto the lawn where his final words upon being shot were "Shree Ram" (my God).  Unfortunately, the Smriti was closed...and I know these things about it because it was a memorable place when I had visited it in 2011.

So what are four women to do when their cultural opportunity has shifted?  Find another one.  We went to the Raj Ghat, the place where Gandhi was cremated and now is marked by an eternal flame.  Each day, Gandhi devotees sit at the memorial and chant his favorite Ram Raga and they happened to be there at the same time as us.  As we walked around the upper perimeter, looking down upon the memorial, we hear all these school children saying, "Hi! Hi!" and waving at all of the foreigners as they walked past.  Their childhood exuberance for a days outing was reminiscent of my elementary school field trips and a reminder of how fortunate they are to be receiving an education, unlike the girls we are about to meet.

Constant reminders of gratitude and having options.

We then headed to Janpath market place to find some culturally appropriate attire (kurtis/scarves) and pretend to bargain for the best deals.  Only one of us were really getting into the bargaining dance yet we all found things for what seemed like great deals by our own standards.  

After a lunch in a groovy bar/cafe with dal, rice, palak paneer and naan, we headed to Dilli Haat, another outdoor market.  This one had an entrance fee of 20 rupees (less than 50 cents) and as we were in line, a man cut in front of me.  An Indian woman stepped up to him, scolding that "this is a cue and you stepped in front of these women....they are our guests!".  He apologized and I was impressed with her calling him on it.  At the market, we ran into another 3-4 challengers who were on their way back from Agra.

We have  merged yet again at a new hotel, having been transferred from our original hotel to its sister property some 30 minutes away.  Apparently a government ministry was taking over the original place and bumped us out.  As we arrived, so had many of the others and now were are almost a complete group with a few arriving later tonight.

Our official work begins tomorrow with a visit to Apne Aap and I am in the position of not knowing what to expect.  What  I do know is that I need a shower to wash off some of the metropolis dirt.

More later...

My Feet Are On The Ground

February 17, 2013

After 30 hours of travel, I have safely arrived in Delhi.  I met up with fellow Seva Challengers, Tammy (from Florida) and Page (from Nashville) in the departure lounge at Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris.  It feels great to immediately be able to connect with them both.  Although we've all had our different methods of raising $20,000 we share the common thread of the cause.

The great thing about the travel to Delhi is that is went smoothly and was uneventful.  Phew.  Plus, all of our bags arrived after  many airplane transfers.

After falling heavily into sleep, I awoke this morning to a gray Delhi and after my morning meditation, headed downstairs to explore the breakfast buffet.  I went with traditional Indian fare of  masala chai, sambal, lemon rice and  idli accompanied by a tomato type chutney and coconut chutney.  I also had some scrambled eggs to get some form of protein, otherwise I'm heading toward carb overload.

It's so odd to be sitting downstairs in the dining room, with tables of mostly all men or all women.  Playing on the lobby TV is an Indian music video with this super studly guy in a near Speedo, at the beach, surrounded by scantily clad women gyrating and doing their Bollywood type of dancing.  It's such a conflict to see what's on TV and then to see women sitting, eating breakfast wearing headscarves.  I wonder how they feel about it all.

But, that was my experience on my previous trip to India in that it's full of constant extremes.  I know that as I sit here in my hotel room, typing on my groovy iPad with keyboard, in a nice hotel with bottled water, that there are millions of people outside of my walls who might think that my world, is simply another world away.

As I keep that in mind, I might book myself in for an Ayurvedic massage this afternoon to prepare myself for what lies ahead.

Again...I hold such gratitude and my heart is full.

My Feet Are Off The Ground

Friday February 15, 2013

As I sit here on my way between San  Francisco and Seattle I am looking out my window at three distinct mountains covered in winter snow.  I believe one of them to be the formerly volatile Mt St Helens, but I'm not in a position to fact check that just at the moment.

Everything thus far has been extraordinarily easy and friendly.  The Alaska airlines check-in guy was downright exuberant at 6:15 am and I've never seen such jovial TSA agents who seemed more like your mate than the usual militant.  You felt as though you could sit down and have a nice chat and cuppa tea.

As I listen to "The Power Of Your Heart" by Peter Gabriel, I am reminded why I am sitting here sipping my Airborne.  I'm on a mission, to open my heart and bear witness to unthinkable suffering.  I'm hoping to get a sense of hopefulness through programs that have been working within these organizations.  I'm not here in the familiar role of traveler or tourist, although I know I'll be getting all the color and flavors that India has to offer.

Part of me feels bigger than myself as I launch into this experience.  Yet, I have learned many things from undertaking this Global Seva Challenge over the past year.  Although I am very proud of what I've accomplished, I am reminded to keep my ego in check.  I sit in gratitude with how my community came together to support me and these efforts.  The well wishes, words of encouragement and heartfelt hugs over the past few weeks makes me realize how very fortunate and  lucky I was to be born into opportunity.

I have no idea as to how I'll react to what I'm about to experience.  What I do know is that at this stage of my life, I feel ready to be fully present.  This is an auspicious year of pushing me further away from the familiar...I just turned 50, am heading to India in a new capacity and haven't been able to see much beyond the middle of March.  For someone who likes to organize, plan and be in control this is yet another lesson in softening my two fisted grip and letting go.

It's time to trust that all I've learned has brought me to this point in my life and that I'm exactly where I should be.  At least that's what I'd say to a yoga class, so let's see if I can take my own advice.

You know there will be more to come...stay tuned!