HELP US MAKE A SMALL DIFFERENCE! 

During the latter part of October 2006, we spent two rather fast-paced weeks touring eight cities in India. We had the opportunity to experience the India that most tourists never see, coupled with visits to key traditional tourist sites like the Taj Mahal and the holy city of Benaras (also called Varanasi - the city of pilgrimages on the Ganges).

The extremes of India present a challenge for anyone to describe as it would likely take more than just two weeks to absorb the whole of what the country of India is about. The spiritual presence that resides within each individual West Indian is beyond a simple level of serenity or internal peace.  It is one that most of us can’t begin to fathom. 

We experienced many forms of transportation over the course of our visit. We traveled via a dugout boat on the Ganges to watch sunrise Vedic ceremonies performed on the banks of this holy river, rode elephants to a hilltop fort, traversed in cabs, rickshaws, buses and planes, and rambled on a three-hour train ride in the most crowded train in the world. We watched the sun rise upon the Taj Mahal and then entered this magnificent 36-story palace, built as a demonstration of dedication and love by a man for his departed wife. We visited Sarnath’s Bodhi tree, where Buddha achieved enlightenment and gave his first sermon at the age of 35. We walked the crowded streets of many of the cities we visited, maneuvering through a massive population of people, scooters, rickshaws, trucks, cabs, bicycles, camels, peacocks, pigeons, goats, sheep, dogs, oxen-drawn carts, and of course, hundreds of free-roaming cows. (And yes, there were monkeys everywhere!)  In case you’re wondering, cow dung is gathered up quite quickly and rolled into balls to be dried in the sun. It is later used as a primary source of fuel. We were awakened each morning at 4:30 a.m. by the Ramadan prayer chants emanating from Mosques in every city and village. We had a chance to spend time with Muslims, Hindis, Jains, Krishnas, and Sikhs and caught occasional glimpses of the 50 million plus population of holy men who roam the countryside living unashamedly off the handouts from others.

At best, India is an emerging third world country. Its biggest problem continues to be its own population growth, approaching 20 million additions annually. It is a country already in excess of one billion people, with only a small portion of those who ever receive a complete formal education. Tourists can’t travel easily in the country without the begging class besieging them the moment they identify the group. Their skill as artisans and mathematicians presents an interesting mix. They live totally in the present with little concern for tomorrow. They may spend years building a simple brick wall. The completion of it doesn’t seem to be the issue. The fact that they have it to work on today is what consumes them. By contrast they have several technical institutions of higher learning which are unmatched by any other country. They harbor a sense of honor and mutual companionship that is almost mystical. In America we drive on the right side of the road. In England they drive on the left. In India they drive wherever openings exist. As described by one guide, to drive a vehicle in India you need to have a good horn, good brakes and good luck - not a license! Reaching a speed of over thirty miles an hour is not possible, especially when you consider that there aren’t any traffic lights. As pedestrians or vehicles enter an intersection they just move right in, without stopping, somehow emerging on the other side intact.

In the various hotels in which we stayed we met European business travelers who were in India primarily to set up outsourcing relationships for software development and call center activities. The labor force is efficient, large and certainly inexpensive. Even in the smallest farming communities where the fields are tilled by camel-drawn plows, the children attend education programs wearing state-issued uniforms that are often the nicest clothes they own. In one small city we talked with a porter in our hotel who told us that he moved from his village to the city so he could find employment. It took him eight years to get the job as a porter and he was most grateful. For every menial job opening over 4,000 applicants apply. To this day 80% of all marriages are arranged. Several of the religious sects still honor the tradition of allowing a man to have four wives. There is much about India that is unique, mysterious and hard to describe. It was considered to be the Jewel in the Crown of England as a colony at one time. 

While in the city of Agra, after visiting the majestic Taj Mahal, we found our own way to one of Mother Teresa’s orphanages, run by the sisters of the order of nuns founded by Mother Teresa.  It was a Sunday afternoon and the small chapel that sits in front of the walled-in orphanage was vacant. A caretaker escorted us inside the orphanage grounds and took us to the nun in charge. She invited us into a humble office that was adorned only with two pictures of Mother Teresa, a small table and four well-used wooden chairs. A tattered Bible sat atop the table with many missing pages. The orphanage had little if any access to the limited supply of electricity.  The temperature of the room could have easily been over 90*F.

The inscription under one of the pictures of Mother Teresa read, “I know that my life’s work is merely the equivalent of a tear drop in the ocean but I can’t help but think that the ocean is fuller because of it.” The nun we met with was dressed in the light blue and white cotton habit that Mother Teresa wore during her lifetime of serving the despondent leper population in the ghettos of Calcutta. She was a strikingly beautiful young woman who had dedicated her life to Mother Teresa’s mission of serving the indigent and diseased outcasts of West Indian society for the past sixteen years. We asked if she would provide us an opportunity to meet those she was caring for. It proved to be an eye-opening and heart-wrenching afternoon that still tugs at our hearts.

The first room she took us to was an enclosed area that was kept under lock and key. We peered into a small cell that held about 20 older girls and women. The nun explained that they were mentally challenged and kept locked up because fraternizing with the men would inevitably lead to more unwanted children. They appeared malnourished with shaven heads. Most of them had open sores where they had scraped the lice and the skin from their scalps.

We walked on to another room of men who were stricken with tuberculosis and AIDS.  These men were bedridden and obviously very ill. The nun explained that they did not have medicine to care for any of these people so most were just languishing in a state of slow starvation and squalor until they eventually passed. Each was given as much love and attention as the nuns and attendants could possibly provide during the final days of their existence.

Finally, we entered the children’s area. The small of urine was pervasive. There were approximately twenty metal cribs occupied by infants and toddlers.  There were cots for an additional twenty children under the age of five. One young girl was physically deformed, ravaged by what appeared to be polio.  The nun explained that she was also mentally retarded.  As we moved between the rooms, this little girl dragged herself on the ground next to us hoping to capture our attention. All forty children live in these two small rooms sparsely furnished with old cribs and cots.  Each infant and toddler sat passively in his or her crib and was clad in a cloth diaper and clothing donated by the local villagers. We asked permission to hold them and spent the remainder of the afternoon hugging each and every one of those precious souls. They clung to us tightly with their little hands and skinny legs. They cried and held their arms out to us when we put them down.

The majority of the children were girls since they are most frequently abandoned in India. The nun explained that mothers often leave the hospitals without their babies if they are female.  The youngest child was just three days old.  Her mother had died in childbirth.  Her father passed before the infant was even born. Each child had beautiful bulging brown eyes, accentuated by the hollowness of their malnourished faces. There was one blind boy who appeared to be about four crawling around the perimeter of the room. He whimpered, explained the nun, so he could hear his voice echo off of the wall as a guiding beacon until he could find his way to the voices.  Before we left, the nun offered each child a single cracker.  They waited patiently for the snack and savored every bite.

As we walked back towards the nun’s small office we had to step around an older man who had recently found his way into her care. He was lying on the ground outside of the men’s quarters. Both feet were wrapped in gauze.  The nun explained that he was too proud to enter the building until the maggots were gone from the open sores on his bandaged feet.

Mother Teresa’s program receives little support from the church in India. They don’t receive assistance from the U.N. or the Red Cross.  They receive little from the local population. In any case, they continue to exist and provide care for those that cross their threshold. We offered the nun the small amount of money we had with us at the time of our visit and she held it in her hands like a survivor in a desert would hold onto a first cup of cool water. We asked how we could help and she sadly told us that many Americans visit the orphanage and promise to help, but once they leave she never receives aid or hears from them again.  We vowed that we would follow through. We asked her to describe what we could best do to help and as everything else about her, the request was simple. She didn’t want money sent because it will likely never reach her orphanage after being deposited in the church account. What she requested was bedding - just sheets and blankets! They don’t use pillows or heavy comforters because they are too hard to clean. Just sheets and blankets - and used ones, she said, would be more than sufficient.

We are writing to tell you our story and to invite you to help us make a little difference for the orphans in India.  Our commitment will be an annual giving campaign.  If you would like to mail bedding directly to the orphanage, the address is:

Mothers Teresa’s Home

Missionaries of Charity

8,

AGRA CANTT-282001

INDIA

As we rose to leave the small office in which we had first met the nun, a second picture of Mother Teresa caught our eyes. It featured Mother Teresa with Pope Paul II.  The inscription beneath it read

“It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish.”

Please help us help the children.

We sincerely thank you.

Bill and Susan Koehler

6050 Whitegate Crossing

East Amherst, NY 14051

wdkoehler@asitisinc.com  skoehler@roadrunner.com