The Slums

Delhi. The ‘heart’ of India.

            Rajan Uncle use to be the Principle of Shishiya School but then God called them to start a school in one of the many slums in Delhi. They are originally from southern India, in a place that sounds very similar to Hawaii and had AMAZING food! I had only met them once briefly but he invited me down to come and see/help in the school. So we went. From Sunday to Wednesday. They were amazing hosts! The food was so amazing and it was a lovely little break from the boys.

            Our last minute journey began at three in the morning, arriving at the train station at 5am for our 6 hour-long train ride. The train was good but very long. 

Ruth and I were well prepared with biscuits (cookies), SPICY chow mein, and a bag of “french fry” chips (its amazing! They taste EXACTLY like french fries!). When we finally reached Delhi I had a bit of a scare…Ruth’s mobile didn’t work. It was too far away! I was pretty horrified; the mobile was our tie to safety. My few Hindi words would be no help if we were lost or needed help. And after much worry and confusion our taxi driver got us to the Rajans’ house. I was so happy to see them.

            The next day we went to the slums.

How do you describe poverty? What words can I say to make you understand the enormity of their lack, yet their smiles? How can I put life into words printed on a page? I wish each of you could have been there. To have to instant shock of surprise at the dirt, the piles of garbage, and dirty half dressed children. To take in the rows of “homes” made up of cardboard and tarps. 

To see the cows and goats happily eating among the mountains of trash. To see the young mother who separates the trash into piles as she holds her baby on her lap. I wish you could experience the stomach twisting, the burning of tears, when you look into the first child’s eyes and know that all of this is his life. To know that I have never been through anything like this child has. That I know nothing of hardness or pain.

But then, most of all, I want you to experience the love. The love these children desperately crave and want to pour out. Within minutes I was holding children close to me. They happily chatted in Hindi, giggling as I tried my simple Hindi words. I wasn’t prepared for the easy, loving acceptance. I wasn’t prepared to get attached. But within minutes two little sisters captured my heart. Is it silly to say that after three days my heart was breaking as I held the little sister for the last time?

            The school is three rooms, rented. Yes the slum is rented out. I was amazed, “You actually have to PAY to live here?!”. The rooms are small bamboo is used for the framing with cardboard walls and a tarped roof. There are about 35 children who come everyday, sometimes more sometimes less. 

Many of the children don’t care much about schooling and neither do the parents. Sometimes it’s even the parents that keep the children from coming—they need help sorting out trash. The big incentive for coming? A couple biscuits or a bun at the end of the day.

As I watched the children being handed a few biscuits I was broken by how little they had. And then I was amazed as several of them turned to me to share with me. Can anything compare to the generosity of a poor child?

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The first day I helped Bethany (a volunteer from Whales) with the youngest class. We sat on a mat in between rows of rooms. Moving the mat to follow the shade. We did a drawing of a cat and then worked on letters and read some storybooks. The next two days Bethany was sick so I took over her class. It was wonderful. We had fun drawing on slates (paper is a luxury), acting like animals, playing a mimic game, counting and singing songs. They love to be praised. They all wanted to show me their slates every time they had drawn one more letter, or in the case of the young ones added a new twirling scribble. They were very affectionate, wanting to sit on my lap, be by me, and be touching me. Which I loved, I had one on my lap or in my arms as much as I could. I was desperate to pour love on them.

There was this one girl, older maybe 10. She didn’t know her letters and was new to school. With her was a young girl. Her sister that she was in change of watching. But she loved learning, trying to master the chalk to form letters. Her effort touched me. I hope she continues going.

They were loving. My first day the mother of the sisters thought I spoke Hindi and tried to talk to me. I look “little foreigner” they told me. And after she realized my Hindi is stopped at “what is your name” she instead offered me chai. And within minutes she had made all of us a cup of chai. It was so lovely. They are such an amazing people. The kids’ bellies were swollen, their hands, feet and faces filthy, but they were beautiful. They have no running water, no toys, and one communal “toilet” about a half a kilometer away from us.

It amazed me how I felt so right there. I’m not sure what the future holds but suddenly working in the slums doesn’t seem so scary. It actually was very hard for me to leave. To unwrap the little arms from around my neck, to lift the warm little head off my chest and to set down the precious little girl that had stolen my heart in minutes.

 (The sisters I LOVED!)

Sorry this is messy. Choppy. I need to try to write more about it later. I also just found out that i left with a little "present": lice. So this afternoon was spent pulling a little plastic comb (painfully) through my hair (which i have now decided is much too long and way, way too thick!).  I would love your prayers!