The children had clothes, presumably donated, and virtually nothing else. There were some well-thumbed books available, three worn out tennis balls and a broken cricket set. A volley ball net was strung out over some rough ground.
The electricity only worked for twelve hours each day, a week of daytime power, followed by a week of night-time power. When the children settled to do their homework, they were limited in how long they could write by the setting sun. Some of them would gather round two solar powered street lights to continue their studies.
The campus was delightful. There was a lovely playground with swings and climbing equipment - something of a luxury in India. The area around the buildings had an abundance of banana trees, lemon bushes, palm trees heavy with coconuts and neatly tilled fields of grain, maize and vegetables. The ploughing was done by a very elderly man and a pair of white oxen. It seemed quite medieval, as did the local village, with basic thatched huts and women sitting outside cooking over open fires. There was a properly covered well, donated by visiting doctors who had serious concerns about the health implications of the old water supply. The village housed the primary and high schools. Both buildings were Victorian in their facilities – benches built into double desks, bare floors, chalk boards around the room and very little else. One board had the seasons written on it; summer, monsoon and winter. The children sat quietly and attentively. When we asked a class of teenagers what they dreamed of, the answers were about being doctors, teachers or lawyers. One boy wanted to be a software engineer, which I found particularly poignant, given that the school was probably about 5 miles away from the nearest internet connection. The contrast between these well motivated young people and their equivalent in this country was quite startling. None of them gave evasive ‘dunno’ style answers, they all had strong self esteem and ambition that would put their Western counterparts to shame.
There was no furniture to speak of in the orphanage. The children slept on mats on the floor (as they did in the slums) and sat on mats in the dining area to eat. Each meal consisted of chapatti, dhal, rice and a delicately spiced vegetable curry, washed down with sugary chai. The children each had a tin plate and mug, which they washed up after the meals. No cutlery was needed as the chapattis were used in traditional style to scoop the food off the plate.
The community was warm, loving and extremely happy. All the children shared the chores and never seemed to argue or complain. The timetable was well structured, the day starting with outdoor exercises at 6am, followed by washing and cleaning duties, assembly at 8am. The assembly quite often broke into vibrant drumming and dancing, a proper celebration for a new day. Breakfast was at 9am and then school or other activities on holidays. In the evenings they did their homework and ate dinner at 8pm. After dinner the children had to make their way to their houses to sleep, it was too dangerous for them to walk around in the dark on a campus that was visited regularly by cobras and the occasional anaconda. The snakes were seen to by what must be one of the bravest men around, a gentle giant of a man, who could spot the snakes tens of metres away, stalk them and throttle them with his bare hands. He had to do this once or twice a week to protect the children. We were advised to take our torches to the toilet block in the night, to check for cobras. This was extremely worrying, but luckily the cobras stayed out of the way while we were there. To think that before being warned about the snakes, I had been worried by the size of the ants. Somehow they paled into insignificance as I lay in bed trying to convince myself that I didn’t need to go to the bathroom after all.
The most startling and profound revelation about the orphanage was how well balanced, happy and enthusiastic the children were. They all shared a love of life and eagerness to learn that was infectious. When given some art materials they were astonishingly creative, and when some basic percussion instruments were brought out, their dancing and drumming took wings and soared. They worked together really well, being used to community life, sharing and caring for each other.
The children all looked lean and fit on their high carbohydrate diet. Their food was all organically grown and locally sourced, much from the fields around them. There was no junk food within miles and no money to buy it had it been. Some of the children however were smaller than you would expect for their ages, a sad reflection of their malnourished start in life.
The work the charity is doing for these children and adults is almost miraculous, giving a chance in life to so many who would otherwise have languished in the slums. The fact that they are happy and caring individuals is testimony to the love and commitment shown to them by the staff running the orphanage.
The term ‘poor’ had no meaning in this place.
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