I've left Kolkata.
I'm standing in an airport and it seems strange.
I'm sad to have left a place that, simply by being there, makes you think about your life in terms of your wealth and how to live out your faith.
I am sad to have left behind the kids of Daya Dan after watching them improve so much over the past two months.
I think most of all I am sad to leave behind my friends and fellow volunteers. Althought the best of them have either left already or will do soon enough, it doesn't make parting any easier. I think that a special shout must go out to Stephen, Grier Maria and Cassi. Y'all are the best.
I realised a couple weeks ago that leaving would be an important process for me as a volunteer. As someone who's considered to be long term, also being tall and wearing a hat makes me stand out a bit, the sisters would ask me to help out outside of the 'regular' volunteering. I found that somtimes being a favored or special helper gave me a sense of self importance that was not befiting of the reason I'd gone to Kolkata.
Let me tell you a true story. As I was serving in Kalighat, or the home for the dying destitute, a group of people came from the US to visit, or to have a look. As we were clearing the dishes after dinner, they were standing off to the side praying rather intensly. As they did this I passed by them three times.
The first time I thought to myself sarcasticly, "Well that's a lot of help!"
The second time I rebuked myself "I'm glad they're doing that. I don't see enough of that here."
The third time they were finishing up and getting ready to leave and I felt a little ill because "that come and gone is exactly what I'm like to some of the true long term volunteers and sisters" (some long term being 8 months, 1 year, 10 years, 15 years)
I want to go back to Kolkata, it's an amazing place, except for the honking, but I wonder if there's greater need of wolunteers elsewhere: with other Missionaries of charity houses throughout the world, with other volunteer organisations or with relief work organisations.
Now, however, I am fixing my eyes upon the next two weeks of breathing God in while I roam around New Zealand one last time and then a different type of service as a YWAM DTS staff member. The next adventure is lined up and waiting.
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
PS. There's no spell check here...sorry
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Monsoon
A short update, but a cool story. First let me take you back a couple of weeks. One of the other volunteers are Daya Dan and I decided that it would be good exercise to start walking back from the home to our hotel. That sounds fine does it not? Sure as long as the weather’s good, but alas we’re in the middle of monsoon season. Fortunatly for us it’s been a dry monsoon season, which is not so fortunate for the farmers. Now on this one particular day we started walking while the weather was nice enough and we even made it halfway before it began to drizzle. Before long the rain started coming down pretty good, but we, being both of us from the northwest, thought nothing of rain. As the Indian people covered their stalls and sought cover from the torrential downpour, we kept walking.
Just keep walking, just keep walking
I even made the comment, only two guys from the Northwest would walk through this while all the locals stayed dry.
That in and of itself was a cool experience, but the other day I had a better one. As we were at Daya Dan during the morning the rain began coming down at a good pace, and did not stop. So as we finished our morning there and went to leave it was still raining. I felt like walking, or running as I’ve been trying to do lately, back home, I set out in the rain. Little did I know of the situation further along. The roads had become so flooded in points that there was no dry place to stand, even on the sidewalks. The water is so dirty that you can not see the ground be it two feet or two inches beneath the surface of the water. So, for the experience and sheer adventure of it I trekked my way through the flooded streets and sidewalks to make it back to my street, only to find that it is the most flooded of them all. It is indeed a sad story that my camera broke and I was unable to take photos of these events; but even if I had, those pictures would not be able to encapsulate the experience.
One of the favorite street side restraints here was so flooded that it closed down early, but before it did all of their seats were taken by the hardcore patrons who sat with feet up out of the grimy water while eating and the cooks kept cooking while standing knee deep in the flood.
To say the least I loved it, until I realized that my room is on the ground floor and may be flooded. My fears were all for not as the hotel I am at is on high ground and has some excellent drainage. Excellent that is during a monsoon, but during a regular rainfall it’s terrible. Go Figure.
I know some of you out there can vouch for my story, while others may be bewildered. For the people here, this stiff happens, and you live with it, but they still don’t like being splashed when someone goes running past :P Oh, and it’s strange walking down the sidewalk and having waves from the wake of the cars driving down the street breaking around your ankles.
One thing I wish I had had with me on that day was a skim board, it would have been so much fun. How much fun? SO much fun!
Just keep walking, just keep walking
I even made the comment, only two guys from the Northwest would walk through this while all the locals stayed dry.
That in and of itself was a cool experience, but the other day I had a better one. As we were at Daya Dan during the morning the rain began coming down at a good pace, and did not stop. So as we finished our morning there and went to leave it was still raining. I felt like walking, or running as I’ve been trying to do lately, back home, I set out in the rain. Little did I know of the situation further along. The roads had become so flooded in points that there was no dry place to stand, even on the sidewalks. The water is so dirty that you can not see the ground be it two feet or two inches beneath the surface of the water. So, for the experience and sheer adventure of it I trekked my way through the flooded streets and sidewalks to make it back to my street, only to find that it is the most flooded of them all. It is indeed a sad story that my camera broke and I was unable to take photos of these events; but even if I had, those pictures would not be able to encapsulate the experience.
One of the favorite street side restraints here was so flooded that it closed down early, but before it did all of their seats were taken by the hardcore patrons who sat with feet up out of the grimy water while eating and the cooks kept cooking while standing knee deep in the flood.
To say the least I loved it, until I realized that my room is on the ground floor and may be flooded. My fears were all for not as the hotel I am at is on high ground and has some excellent drainage. Excellent that is during a monsoon, but during a regular rainfall it’s terrible. Go Figure.
I know some of you out there can vouch for my story, while others may be bewildered. For the people here, this stiff happens, and you live with it, but they still don’t like being splashed when someone goes running past :P Oh, and it’s strange walking down the sidewalk and having waves from the wake of the cars driving down the street breaking around your ankles.
One thing I wish I had had with me on that day was a skim board, it would have been so much fun. How much fun? SO much fun!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Daya Dan
As promised I’ll tell you a bit about what I do as a volunteer. I get to the house around 8:00 in the morning. Sometimes I’m late, sometimes not, it’s pretty relaxed. I then help wash clothes, dress the boys, clean and change bedding, hang laundry or just play around. The task depends on how many volunteers we have and who’s already doing what.
On the 1st floor there are between 20-30 boys from age 7-19, all of whom are mentally or physically handicapped, or both. Some of the older boys go to a school and are gone most of the time I am there. Others do physiotherapy to help with their physical symptoms and about 8 boys get taught by volunteers. I help with this group.
We begin with a quiet mediation tie to calm the boys down a little bit, then we greet the children and volunteers which helps the boys practice speaking in English. Some of them can not speak at all, others with extreme difficulty. Then we break from the group and do one on one teaching with the boys. I have been teaching one boy for a month now. He’s quite smart, but also very laid back. The boys seem to have figured out how to play the role of a not so smart kid and not have to do much learning. My student doesn’t speak much, but he can, and he knows a lot of vocabulary. He’s pretty chill and if he’s not in the mood he’s content to just stare into space while I get frustrated that he doesn’t want to learn anything.
Officially he has ADHD, but since most, if not all, of the boys were taken off the street at some point, malnutrition at an early age has effected the growth and development of their brain cells. It is an incredibly sad story but it is the way it is.
For me the thing that struck me the most, especially at the beginning, and continues to the present, is that because there is so much coming and going of the volunteers and teachers and friends, the boys have no father figure, and no consistency in their lives apart from one another and the sister who is in charge. And when I say that she is in charge I mean it. The boys listen to her every word. If she’s watching they behave very well, in comparison to when she’s not around. And they love her so much. How much? SO much! On a number of occasions, one of the more rowdy boys will simply walk up to her and give her a massive hug around the waist. Even if she is trying to accomplish something he wont let go and will just let her carry him around. It’s amazing to see that, and makes all of the frustration of the day worth it.
I wonder if God will ask me to come back here someday to spend a long time with these, boys or other orphans like them…?
On the flip side, experiencing the difficulties of working with these kids just reinforces my desire NOT to have a family of my own. Not to mention it brings to light just how much responsibility a child’s life is.
Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. For all the hard work in providing for me, loving me, teaching me and playing with me. And especially for the perseverance through frustration, I think you did a pretty good job on all 5 kids.
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
PS. No more photos, my camera got wet and is now broken. :’( sad. It just means I can now dream about getting a sweet as camera for making sweet as videos.
On the 1st floor there are between 20-30 boys from age 7-19, all of whom are mentally or physically handicapped, or both. Some of the older boys go to a school and are gone most of the time I am there. Others do physiotherapy to help with their physical symptoms and about 8 boys get taught by volunteers. I help with this group.
We begin with a quiet mediation tie to calm the boys down a little bit, then we greet the children and volunteers which helps the boys practice speaking in English. Some of them can not speak at all, others with extreme difficulty. Then we break from the group and do one on one teaching with the boys. I have been teaching one boy for a month now. He’s quite smart, but also very laid back. The boys seem to have figured out how to play the role of a not so smart kid and not have to do much learning. My student doesn’t speak much, but he can, and he knows a lot of vocabulary. He’s pretty chill and if he’s not in the mood he’s content to just stare into space while I get frustrated that he doesn’t want to learn anything.
Officially he has ADHD, but since most, if not all, of the boys were taken off the street at some point, malnutrition at an early age has effected the growth and development of their brain cells. It is an incredibly sad story but it is the way it is.
For me the thing that struck me the most, especially at the beginning, and continues to the present, is that because there is so much coming and going of the volunteers and teachers and friends, the boys have no father figure, and no consistency in their lives apart from one another and the sister who is in charge. And when I say that she is in charge I mean it. The boys listen to her every word. If she’s watching they behave very well, in comparison to when she’s not around. And they love her so much. How much? SO much! On a number of occasions, one of the more rowdy boys will simply walk up to her and give her a massive hug around the waist. Even if she is trying to accomplish something he wont let go and will just let her carry him around. It’s amazing to see that, and makes all of the frustration of the day worth it.
I wonder if God will ask me to come back here someday to spend a long time with these, boys or other orphans like them…?
On the flip side, experiencing the difficulties of working with these kids just reinforces my desire NOT to have a family of my own. Not to mention it brings to light just how much responsibility a child’s life is.
Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. For all the hard work in providing for me, loving me, teaching me and playing with me. And especially for the perseverance through frustration, I think you did a pretty good job on all 5 kids.
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
PS. No more photos, my camera got wet and is now broken. :’( sad. It just means I can now dream about getting a sweet as camera for making sweet as videos.
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