Farewell to India and The Taj!

After a very tearful goodbye, we left Rising Star and went north. It was pretty hard to leave behind all those children and the memories that will forever be with us! We finally had to just want away--it was too hard to leave. They made posters for us, gave us gifts and wrote lots of notes. We still can't believe all that they did to make "us" feel loved--we hope we made them feel the same!

This is a pix of our little "house family" that we got to be with each night. We love them!

Onto Delhi:

The morning that we went to the Taj Mahal was a bit crazy. Our group had to wake up at 6 to go get inline just so we could see it. The night before, we didn't get in until after midnight.…but it was still worth it! We get in the line, which by the way was separated by gender for some odd reason, and after a wait--we finally get through the gates.

I didn't know this before, but the Taj Mahal is actually a burial site. It is for the king's third wife--wouldn't you be bummed to the first or second wife and not get a Taj out of the deal! The grounds include a palace, the Taj, guest house, gardens, etc. Oh my gosh, it was so dang stunning. There are no words to describe how beautiful it is. It was so majestic. If you ever get the chance to see it, don’t miss your opportunity because it truly is astounding!

We took tons of picturesbecause it’s the TAJ MAHAL! When are we ever going to be back there again?? We took tons of free falling pictures which turned out pretty cool. You would think they were photo shopped but they weren’t.

Our tour guide was great. He was quite the expert abouteverything. This is what we learned fromour great guide before we got to inside: The Taj Mahal is made of the best marble in the world. It is number one on the list of types of marbles. Everything about the Taj is symmetrical--literally everything. If you stand on any of the four sides--it looks exactly the same. When they built it, they built the foundation on wood… I know right?? But apparently it’s true. Google it. The king imported slaves from Turkey to man the work. There was something like 20,000 slaves working on it over the years. The guy who designed it was also a slave. When he got his job to design it the king told him he had 21 years to build it. And he did. He built it in 21 years!! Then he was killed because the king didn't want him to duplicate it! At the time of the construction, it cost approximately $1,062,834,098 to build--but that doesn't take into account the cost of any materials that they had access to in India or several other hidden factors. It is listed as one of the New Modern Wonders of the World.

Interesting things to know: They clean the exterior every couple years. Theycovered the whole Taj during a war with a black sheet so the planes and satellitescouldn’t spot it to destroy it. If you look at it at this certain angle it looks like the Taj is made of diamonds. It glitters in the sunlight! There are so many other facts but I think that covers some of the basics.

After were done with our sexy model photoshoot and our school lesson we head over to go inside. We had to wear foot coverings to preserve the marble. Even inside it was so beautiful. Everything was a work ofart. It would surprise you that this could all be done in 21 years. It was so detailed and ornate. After walking around we go to the back side and walk around. It was truly beautiful. After we are done admiring wehead off and walk back. Every time I looked back I was just astounded by its beauty. I hope one day you all get to go see the majestic and truly grand Taj Mahal.

Jillian

Work in the colonies....

I am so sorry to be slow in getting this blog updated....  Having access to internet and the time to update it seems to be the problem.

I am excited today though, because we are somewhere--where the internet is working great!  Yeah!  I got Doug and the girls to help with updates but I did want to post more pictures from the work we did in India before I update you on what we have done since we left India.  For lack of time, I am just going to post pictures.



This is the van that we would travel out to the villages in.  We would unload supplies and go to work.

 

This is a woman who came to be treated and as Emily removed her shoe, Doug took one look at her and couldn't bare the thought of her walking to each station.  He picked her up and carried her.  I love that man!

 



From Beggar to Barber....

From Beggar to Barber

As volunteers we had the privilege to work through the medical staff who are actively, and I believe free of charge, serving many of the colonies within the area on a daily basis. We did this by preparing the patients to see the doctor and then every two weeks take many of them to the hospital which was about a 2 hour drive, unbelievably crowded, hot, and unsanitary. I was told when we were working at the school, that Rising Star had started a small lending program for many of these patients and others who are associated with them in the colonies. The lending program is pretty limited in size, but designed to help them learn how to earn money through small business models that allow them to provide services or goods in exchange for currency.

One of these I was told is a man who had been begging foryears in Chennai. Going every few days to collect as much money as he could,and then come home and live for a few days before he returned to ask for moremoney. I guess to a certain degree as I evaluate the times I have given tothose who were begging for money there is an exchange of goods. But, the goodsare tied to either a condition or circumstance that requires the beggar todescend by living a life that inspires me as a donor to give them money. Nomatter how I calculate this, it leaves me with a desire to help those who arehomeless or within a home and asking for money. Certainly the value that comesto an individual when they provide a service or product that is desired isbetter than accepting money that is driven by a desire to help someone who isstating that they are in need.

One day when we were traveling to a village, the van with themedical staff was halted by a crossing train. Our van had crossed the tracksand was waiting in front of the nursing home that we were going to use as aservice area to serve this village. As we were waiting, I saw in the distance agroup of men reading the newspaper and visiting. They were sitting on theground near the entrance of a six by six concrete building. I looked again andsaw a man sitting on the ground inside the building and could see the arms ofanother individual trimming his mustache. It seemed so strange to me to have agrown man on the concrete floor to get his facial hair trimmed. The van was hotand I was growing impatient. I took off on a quickened walk and greeted the mennear the entrance. I noticed that two of the men had Leprosy and it was obviousby the shape of their hands and the shape of the remainder of their feet. Itook off my baseball cap, pointed to my head and asked if he could give me ahaircut. He looked at me for a minute and gave me a gesture to wait. I did soand within seconds the man on the ground was up passing a few coins and on his way.

The individual on the floor was a man about 60 years old,dressed in a skirt and had a hairy chest. He stood, shook the cloth on thechair and told me to sit down. I have to be honest and say this was not one ofthe cleanest locations I had ever had my hair cut. No electricity, norunning water and lots of spider webs on the ceiling. Dust was on some of thecounters and knowing that lice is common in these areas, I was confident thatmy head was in for an exposure moment. Because I have a limited source of hair,and when I asked him to give me a haircut, I knew there was only one way to goabout this. No power? Scissors were not going to work on my remaining hair linewith my extended hair reaching the peak of about ½” in length. He took out hisscissors and I put my hand up saying no, and then gestured to the razor that hejust used to trim his friends face on the floor.

He looked at me strangely, shrugged his shoulders and thenwith a look of “oh well” picked up the razor, picked up a piece of stone andstarted sharpening his tool of choice. Yellow handle, with a little bit of ruston the blade he opened it completely, laid it on the dusty counter and thenapplied water on my balding head with his hands from a clear glass bottle thatlooked like a 1960’s Diet Coke container. With water applied liberally, hestarted cutting. I could hear it as the razor went across my scalp. Have youever had someone cut your hair with a semi-sharp straight edge razor? I neverhad, and I was grateful that he was a skilled artist with this tool. I didwonder a couple of times if he slipped and cut my scalp what that would mean.Would I get Leprosy since I was having my hair cut in a colony that waspredominantly afflicted by this disease? What added more to this question wasthe fact that I realized he was one who was afflicted as well.

All that said, he did a great job on my scalp and then tookthe scissors to my goatee and brought me to a new standard look. Never beforehad I worn hair on my face, which now had grown for six weeks without any trimwork. And now for the first time in my life, I had the shaven scalp and a trimmedgoatee. I actually kind of liked it to tell the truth. But, I knew that spousalapproval and then religious approval upon my return to life at home may have aninfluence that would bring me back to the ugly look in life. Half headed hairand no facial hair.

I stood, I gave him 100 rupees and then his wife came in togreet me and I gave her the same. This is about $3.00 in U.S. currency and forhim was equivalent to a day’s wages at his village beauty salon. I said thanksand then returned to the van to be with the family and help set up theequipment we would need to provide the medical help for this village.

It did not take long and we were set up and ready to acceptpatients. This week we were with a group of young single adults who had comefrom different parts of the world and were sharing rooms in the hostile that wewere also living in as a family. Just so you know having all seven of us in a12x12 room with nothing but bunk-beds and one small desk with all of ourluggage was good for all of us, but only survivable knowing we would be gone inthree weeks. Anyway, these single adults were with us and three of them werepart of the five person station that lead up to the application station wherethe lead nurse and Jocelynn cut dead flesh and then applied antiseptic cream anddressings.

I was given the station of cutting off the old dressingswith Cole and Marcus our two youngest boys. We cut a few and the boys wanted tohelp from time to time, but when the dressings were heavy, old and full ofhuman excretement that comes from infected wounds, they were not too excited tohelp. We did our best and in time it was me cutting, two single adults washing,Emily and another single adult oiling, and then Jocelynn with the lead nursecutting dead flesh and applying the dressings. This went on for several hours and then last but not least my barber friend came in.

As we have gone to the villages and cared for these peoplealmost all of these individuals are gracious, kind and appreciative of ourservice. Every once in a while we will get one that is the town pusher and nottoo excited to wait their turn or have us physically help them from station tostation. Occasionally though there are individuals that have an impact on youas a volunteer; I am sure that this is different for each person that isserving, but some of the patients come with as a way of life and from thecomments of our leaders consistently influence the volunteers for good. I begancutting my barber friends dressings and it was obvious that he was in extremepain and discomfort. I did not realize how bad he was until I unraveled thethird and fourth layers of his dressing on his left foot and began to smell thestench of his dead flesh and open wounds. So much so that the girls who were atthe washing station quietly left in hopes that someone else would come and dohis feet.

He arose from my station and went to a nearby hose bib torun cold water on his open wounds and I am sure remove some of the smell tominimize the volume of flies that were coming to rest on his legs. A secondgroup was coming in to replace us who had been visiting the village and I askedmyself if I should leave and let them help this good man. He looked at me afterwashing his feet and I directed him to the washing station to have his feetcleansed with some brown cleaning agent that they used in the water with somedisposable wash clothes. He sat down and then gestured for me to start theprocess. I stood up and sat down in front of him to start washing his feet. Hewas still in pain and I could tell very uncomfortable as I scrubbed his openwounds (which they require us to do in preparation for new dressings).

He started to bleed in several places and I realized thatthis man had been standing on his feet for most of the morning cutting hair andshaving the men of the village. I was quiet, and felt so ungrateful for thetimes that I complain about inconveniences that I have at home when I am simplyneeding to do something that I do not like to do. We finished the washing andthen I let him go to the next station to have his wounds oiled by Sam Smith andthen on to Jocelynn to have his new dressings applied to his wounds.

Not much was talked about as I left. I removed my doublegloves, washed my hands thoroughly and then placed my mask in the trash can.The children were eating their lunch across the dirt road adjacent to thenursing home and our guide Derek was there visiting with my wife. Peanut butterand jelly was on the menu and Derek took one to satisfy his hunger. We ate, wevisited and then he asked me a few questions about my experience. Suddenly itall came to the surface for me. I am not that emotional, but I choked up whenhe asked me about this man. One who was a beggar, took a small loan to start abusiness and now is fighting out his daily life giving all that he has tooffer. He acted with dignity as he cut my hair and came for help with not onlygrace, but a deep sense of gratitude. Living on a dirt floor and sleeping on adirt bed in a small village in a remote area of India. I left there a betterman from this interaction and then realized that this man’s transition frombeggar to barber not only blessed me, but left me with the thought that I mayhave been the beggar in this interaction as I evaluated the currency that wasexchanged in our brief relationship.

--Doug

This place could use a little Spring Creek lovin!

Okay—so I know that we sold our facilities, but I still feel that pride of offering quality care that I believe we used to offer our residents. So, as we approached an old folks home in the colony—I felt such a sadness for them. I wished that we could take the time to set up the care that we used to offer the elderly at home. The conditions were the barest that I could imagine. I kept thinking things like: They have no privacy; Where do they store their belongings—oh, they probably have no belongings; Is that the bed they have to sleep in? Who cares for them? Do they have anything to do? What is their food like? Who makes them feel loved or celebrated? The answers kept coming up blank.

They are living strictly in a survival world. It broke my heart. I literally felt such sadness inside. It reminded me of how we felt as we started our first facility. We wanted our residents to feel like they were living in luxury—as much we could. We wanted them to think that their living conditions were the best they could be.
We wanted them to feel celebrated. All the while—knowing, that we knew they should be cherished and they still had things to offer. Their life experiences could teach us so much.

They were still worth so much—even at the end of their lives. I was confident that none of these people felt those things. It brought tears to my eyes to stand in those rooms and see the look in their faces. Then I remembered how very small I am and how big this world is. They are a handful of millions who are just like them. I felt
very insignificant but felt more determined to do what I could to try to make a
difference that day.