India

Feb 22

Things just don’t seem to get done in India. Since Friday the Carpenters work was suppose to be done on the room, so why was I not surprised when I came in on Monday to no see table in the girl’s room? Because this is India. As we prepare to move children into the school that was suppose to be done months ago why am I not surprised that the landlord decided to increase the price? Because this is India.

We have fought with the carpenter, and bumped heads with the landlord, yet nothing has come out of it. We of course hoped to have the girls back in the room by Monday, but now it’s starting to look like it won’t start back up till at least Tuesday. I hate to constantly have to cancel the women’s class, but with no room it is hard to sew or do anything.

Going by the new school still being shaped up I frowned knowing that this could possibly not be the new house of education for these needy children. The landlord has selfishly increased the price at the last minute and refused to reduce the price back to the agreed upon amount. These means we have to take our money and start the search again, which is extremely frustrating, but is something you get use to.

The list of things that never get done here goes on and it can really get you down. After dealing with both these issues I left work feeling extremely down. I got in the car and sat silently as we started the hour drive back. I looked out the window thinking about these efforts we had made to help and how others just seemed not to care. It’s hard to understand people sometimes I sadly thought. Just as I thought that I was given more evidence to support my statement.

As the car putted along in the thick traffic I glanced out my window and saw a man on a scooter sitting on the side of the road as his friend stood by. Up a head a few feet was a car with the passenger walking towards the scooter. As he approached the riders the driver got out in a storm, slamming his door. He quickly walked over to the driver of the scooter and without saying more then three words to him he pushed him off the scooter. The man was pinned between the curb and his vehicle and he looked up in confusion and fear. He tried to get up as the man and his passenger continued to push him around.

“A fight! Their fighting!” I yelled to my driver as a way to get him to stop. Instead, he continued driving as if he hadn’t heard a thing. He looked straight forward as I continued to look on at the fight wondering what to do. By this time punches were being throwing at the two non-fighting motorist. The fact that the boys on the scooter were so much younger and were not even attempting to fight back made this attack look so brutal. It was then I saw the on man drive his fist into the driver’s stomach making him clinch his abs in pain. This gave the man a clear shot at the face, which he took. The blow turned me ghost white. I watched as his body went limp and he collapsed, head landing on the hard concrete ground. He was knocked out, but these outrageous men won’t done. The man kicked the passed out body as his friend drove his fist repeatedly into the scooter driver’s passenger. I had no idea what to do or how to even process this. The driver wasn’t stopping and by this time some street sweepers were swarming the scene. I watched in silence until the sight drifted out of view.

Here in India I have seen so many things I never thought I’d see. I saw the corpse of a young boy being wheeled away by his family. I even saw the body of a recently deceased old man left ignored on some steps by a storefront. People walked by as this man’s soul left this world. He left unloved and uncared for, so much that he was left to die. There was something about this incident that was just as shocking though. Maybe it was the hopelessness of the men on the scooter or the cruel nature of the men from the care, or maybe it was just the fact that us people were letting it happen. My feelings of confusion with humans increased.

When I returned to my flat I thought and thought about all I saw. I thought about all that others and I have let go. The poverty, the disaster, the sadness, and cruelty, often ignored. If I heard about a fight on the street I would care less, but the fact that I saw it and did nothing makes me sick. That is why I am so glad I am in India see poverty and these problems so I am forced to see the things we all need to focus on. After passing the fight, I promised myself I would never drive past such a thing again. I also promised myself that I would not forget about those in need when I return to the safeties and comforts of home.

Street kids on the way to work.