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I am not good at travel blogging.

•May 17, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Hello, friends. It’s been a while.

Here’s basically what’s been up:

The final word.

•April 26, 2009 • Leave a Comment

This is the sermon I gave at the Mawsynjri Unitarian Church on my last day in Meghalaya (exactly one week ago now):

When I was young, I would always draw a particular small picture. I remember putting it everywhere for many years. It was a balloon, like at a party, with a smiling face on it. Next to that, I would write, “Be Happy.”

Then, I did not know how important that phrase was “Be Happy.” I did not know that when I became older, more and more of my friends and family would become unhappy. I know many people in my country who are not happy. For the past four years, I have done a lot of thinking about why so many people in my country are unhappy. These are not people who worry about whether they have enough food to eat, or whether their house was well-built. They have these needs met, but they still want more. And there is always more a person can have, so they stay unhappy. They are never satisfied.

But I don’t want to talk about unhappiness. Doesn’t it feel easier sometimes to let yourself be sad than to be happy? You can always find an excuse to be sad. Maybe it’s raining outside when you have forgotten your umbrella. Maybe you are having a difficult time in school. Maybe you are having a difficult time with your wife or husband. These are reasons to be sad.

But what I have learned in these years of thinking about happiness is that you don’t have to succumb to that sadness. You can choose to be happy. And you can choose to live your life in such a way that you are likely to find happiness. I think about this very often, and want to share these thoughts with you.

The first step on the way to happiness is to choose to behave in a correct way. If you are doing the wrong thing, unhappiness is surely to follow. As it says in the Bible’s Galatians, you reap what you sow. If you plant a bad seed, it will grow into a big, bad tree. If you do not study your books, you will fail your exams. If you are unkind to your neighbors, gossiping and unwilling to give them help, you will lose your friends and be alone. If you are drinking so much alcohol, your body and mind begin to waste away. You must act in the right way as often as possible. No person can be perfect, but you must strive toward righteousness.

God will tell you what is right, in your heart, if you ask Him to guide you. Proverbs 3[:5-6] says, “To ngeit ha U Trai da la ka dohnud baroh, bad wat shaniah ha la ka jong ka jingshemphang. Ha la ki lynti baroh to phla ia u, te un pynbeit ia ki lynti iaid jong me. [Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your path.]” God will always show you the proper way, if you open yourself to His word.

The next thing I have learned about happiness is that you must always believe what you are doing is amazing. Do not just do the right thing. Do the right thing the best you can, so you may be proud of your work. You cannot be disappointed if you have truly done your best. If you are not doing your work excellently, then you will feel that disappointment. This year in Pingwait, the theme of the Unitarian Union’s General Assembly was about letting your little light shine. Jesus said, you do not hide your light under a basket. You put your candle on a table so that all may see. “To pynshai kumta ia ka jingshai jong phi ha khmat ki briew. [Let your light so shine before men.]” [Matt 5:16] May the excellence of your work reflect the best you can give to the world, and you cannot be affected by disappointment or regret.

Lastly, in addition to working toward righteousness and excellence, you must choose to be happy. Some people who have visited the Khasi Hills ask me, “How can you be happy here? Sometimes the water does not come to the tap. Sometimes you run out of oil, and you have to go all the way to Smit and Shillong to get more. Sometimes you miss the bus. You see broken homes and people falling sick far from a hospital.” These things are true. But I am happy here. I think you all are too. You have loving neighbors. You have good schools for your children to attend. You have much land for farming and in which to play. You choose to be happy with these things, even when you are facing a difficulty.

Are there problems here? Yes. But if you allow yourself to be dejected, you cannot alleviate these problems. You must feel in your heart that you can make your life better. You must choose that positive attitude and the belief that you can help yourself and your neighbors. Act righteously and do your actions with excellence. Choose righteousness, excellence, and happiness, and how can your joy decrease? How can you not improve the happiness of yourself and those around you?

I hope in this sermon, I am talking mostly to myself. I hope you have already chosen to Be Happy. You all have made it very easy for me to be happy this year, even though I am very far from my home. I will remember you all and will bring the joy you have given me back to America. I will miss you very much when I go away, but I am happy to have known you and to know that I will see you again soon.

Khublei shibun ki paralock jong nga. [Thank you very much, my friends.] May God give you every blessing. My last day was lovely.

I went to the children’s service with the kids in the morning. Spent most of my morning over at the Children’s Village, eating lunch there and at the Mukhims’ home. Tea with our main construction workers at noon. Church service around 1 with this sermon and kwai and candies for everyone afterward. Tea at the Mynsongs, the family I’m closest to in the village. Packing up Khlur’s car at home, saying goodbye to his parents, Dari, and all the kids. Saying goodbye to the mothers and children at the Children’s Village. Goodbye dinner at Bari and Nangroi’s house in Lumparing.

As I’ve written before, the children are adapting well. The mothers and Birialna are doing a great job looking after them, and have plenty of resources to help them out. Construction is nearly finished, though most recently stalled by a cement shortage. But, our men have finished a big drainage ditch in the road (utilizing stones the size of eight year olds), and, now that cement has been found, can put in our last doors and windows for the kitchen and bathroom and build our septic tank’s filter. In the fall, they’ll come back to paint the whole place.

I am currently with my friend Ram in Toyko, the first of my stops over the next five weeks. I’ll probably write an update from each country I visit, so folks at home can collectively read where I am. Nangroi, Khlur, and I have talked about using this blog as a public way to update everyone on the Children’s Village, but who knows how that will pan out. In the meantime, this is now a travel blog.

Thank you all for your interest in this important project. Khublei shibun.

How you found me.

•April 25, 2009 • 1 Comment

This entry is silly.

My blog is hosted through WordPress, which has a statistics service that borders on creepiness. It keeps track not only of how many people came to my blog in a day, but what links they clicked from my site, where they clicked to get to me, etc. My favorite part of this is “Search engine terms.” Remember how my mom Googled “cat as parrot” to see if my blog would come up? Well, here are some other (funny) ways people ended up at my blog without meaning to find it:

And, my number 1 favorite…:

Thanks, all you wayward internet surfers, for stopping by.

Tags: search terms, wordpress

Birthdays, banks, and buses.

•April 22, 2009 • 1 Comment

Let’s pretend I published this “on time,” last Saturday, instead of now when I’ve already left Meghalaya. If anyone comes to this blog in the future, the specific dates will be less meaningful.

Nangroi and I, and by extension Dee and the UUPCC back in the States, have had a bit of a circus out here regarding the kids’ birthdays. What would seem a simple manner back home is actually quite complicated here, in our villages and more generally in India.

Last week, Nangroi finally received documents from Wahmawlein and Mawlat which are the closest we’ll get to birth certificates: school records and church records. Because our kids were born in their parents’ home in rural areas, they don’t have birth certificates. In retrospect, it was perfectly ridiculous for us to expect such a thing.

As I’ve written, Marshall’s guardian claimed that he was 4, leading to much worry about how malnourished he must be. Two weeks ago, I asked the kids (via Birialna) if they knew their own birthdays. All of the older kids knew theirs (Pynkhraw 15, Badashisha 13, Phlinsimai 13 on her birthday this past Saturday, Blestar 11), and two of them knew the birthdays of the younger kids (Badashisha’s younger brother Batkupar is 9 and Blestar’s cousin-brother Minit is 6). Rilum knew Krom’s (8), as she’s been his foster mother for almost the entirety of his life. However, this leaves us with ten children who don’t know their own birthday.

This is the necessary background for my surprise when Nangroi showed me all the school records (for Pynkhraw, Phlinsimai, and Blestar) and church records (for Bankhrawbok and Marshall).

First, it seems in the villages that people know only vaguely when they were born. For example, Badashisha’s birthday is in February, near the start of the school year. So (if she actually didn’t know her birthday, which she does), she would know she’d completed another year just by seeing when the schools opened again. If her parents were still living, this is likely how they would keep track of Badashisha’s age. The proper date is not important.

Second, Marshall is only two-and-a-half. That would explain why he looks like he’s two-and-a-half. Phew! A relief, to be sure, but also strange for me that Marshall’s guardian could have gotten his age wrong by two years. Nangroi reminded me that his guardian is illiterate and, as just stated, age is usually just determined by the passing of seasons, not days. If you’re not paying attention, it’s probably easy to lose track of a year.

Third, the school records are hilariously inaccurate. Blestar’s age and birthday were correct, but Phlinsimai and Pynkhraw’s were very, very much not. These records reduced Phlinsimai’s age to 10 and Pynkhraw’s to 11.

Here’s a photo of Pynkhraw I sent back to the States for his sponsors: Eleven years old? Really? Really?

As it turns out, in India, many higher education institutions and governments have maximum age limits. As in, if you’re over the age of 30, you can’t apply for a government job. (That isn’t the exact age, but it’s something like that.) So, if a primary (elementary) school principal sees kids like Pynkhraw and Phlinsimai, who are a couple of years over what they should be for their grade, the principal just changes their birthdates. Because birth certificates aren’t particularly common, this age change in school records (the only official documentation a person might have) is surprisingly common. Actually, in talking about this issue with other Indian friends here, I’ve found a number of them have had their ages reduced. Many more of our children may have their ages reduced once they graduate primary school; because many of the orphans didn’t go to school regularly before coming to the Children’s Village, we have a bunch of kids who are 8-10 years old and are only in preschool.

Nangroi and I made the executive decision to keep on the UUPCC records the correct age of the children, though all other official documentation in India will give their school record birthdays (whatever they turn out to be). We’ll also inform the UUPCC (and the sponsors) when a child’s age has been reduced, just as an FYI.

*       *       *

One of my tasks before I left was to cash the remaining construction-money traveler’s checks at the bank. Because I was planning to be in Shillong for five days the weekend before my last weekend in Meghalaya, this seemed like an easy task.

Oh no! Not easy at all!

On Friday, it was Good Friday, and thus all banks were closed. Okay, fine. I had four more days, right?

Saturday, the bank is only open for about 4 hours – it’s supposed to be open from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., but that’s on Indian Standard (or, as we say, “Stretchable”) Time – and during that time, I had Last Meetings. First was the final Orphanage Management Committee meeting. Our biggest discussions were trying to finalize the staff contracts so they could be submitted for Khasi translation, and outlining what tasks should be carried out over the course of the next year. The latter list included things like acquiring more church birth records, investigating more thoroughly how we can get a proper asphalt road put in as the orphanage’s driveway, and finding our third caretaker.

I also had a meeting with the Executive Board (Derrick, Helpme, Pearl Green, and Darihun) during which we all enthusiastically agreed that communication between the UUNEI and UUA (and associated groups) must improve. I told them I’d work from my side to encourage people to start supporting proper UUNEI staff instead of focusing all donations on social projects. Because, really, how can we run all of these Unitarians schools and such when the UUNEI has, literally, only two part-time paid staff members? How can the leaders in the UUNEI answer e-mails and phone calls from abroad when they don’t have internet or cell phone service in their villages, nor is the UUNEI their main career? The ministers (of whom the UUNEI has way too few) aren’t even paid for their work.

Anyway, so, no bank Saturday, and no bank Sunday, because it’s always closed Sunday. (And it was Easter. Happy belated, by the way 🙂 )

Monday was a big Khasi festival, so the bank was closed again. In addition to it being a festival, some local political(/separatist?) group put up a “ban” from morning until 6 p.m. because they were angry Sonia Gandhi (Congress Party leader) was visiting Shillong. This basically means that if your business opens or if you’re on the road, someone might throw rocks at you. No one told me about the ban, so I went down to Police Bazar to pick up my latest salwar suit, only to find no one out and nothing open. Great. As I had been barred from attending any Republic Day events because of a “ban,” I decided I was tired of such foolishness and called Banjop to take me around to the various events of the day.

This was a vastly better option that sitting scared at Bari’s house all day. First, I got to see Sonia, who is an interesting lady to me as she is Italian and married into the Nehru political dynasty, and now is in charge of one of India’s strongest political parties. In fact, it was Sonia deciding to take up the position (after her husband and mother-in-law had been politically assassinated) that seems to have revived the Congress Party’s power. She flew in by helicopter, wore a very nice traditional Khasi dress, was requested by all the local speakers to build an airport in Shillong (which I think is a fabulous idea), spoke of Congress’s (and her family’s) particular support of Meghalaya, and then flew out again directly thereafter on way to another northeast state. Second, I got to go to the big Khasi Festival (Shad Mynsium Basuk, which translates as the Happy Soul Dance), which is even bigger than the Nongkrem Dance. It was most neat.

By this time, I’m starting to worry whether I will make it to the bank. But, I assumed that Tuesday, which was in no way a holiday, it would be open.

The bank was closed Tuesday for no reason. Thanks, banks. I did pick up my (totally awesomely plaid) salwar and run into “my” trio of street kids, who know me as the Two Biscuit Lady. Because I was likely never to see them again, I bought them each a bag of Rum Pum, trying to explain I was going to America which is why I was breaking my own two-biscuits-per-kid-bas rule. It was nice seeing them. I was tired of being in Shillong, and thus went back to Kharang that afternoon instead of staying Wednesday.

Thursday was election day in Meghalaya, so everything was closed and most public transportation was being coopted for transport to polling stations. No point in even trying.

Then, I missed the two buses to Shillong on Friday because apparently the bus time shifts with the changing length of the day. No one mentioned this to me. Sigh.

I finally got to the bank on Saturday, my second-to-last day in Meghalaya. Hoorah! Task complete! I also bought a cake for Phlinsimai’s birthday, which was a very nice day in general because Kong Cream visited and brought a ton of donated clothes, much of which was sized perfectly for girls Phlinsimai and Badashisha’s size.

Ah, misadventures, how many of you I have had over the past 8 months! I hope all these misses also illustrate how difficult it is to get around and get things done over in Shillong. This is why folks, like those on the Executive Board, have so much trouble keeping in touch. Sometimes, some group puts up a “ban” and everything’s closed, or everything’s closed because of some holiday or another, or you miss the bus, and that’s that. It can be tough out here.

Day in the life.

•April 15, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Visitor etiquette // The crusade for cats.

•April 7, 2009 • 3 Comments

This should probably be two entries, so I’m gonna put a little line in the middle when the topic changes. Here goes!

The end of my time in Meghalaya is fast approaching. On April 20, I’ll fly from Guwahati to Delhi, and then the 24th I’m off to Tokyo. (In case I haven’t written about it here or haven’t written it recently, after my Indian visa expires, I have five weeks before I really need to be back in the States. So, I’m traveling: Japan, Thailand, Egypt-to-Jordan-to-Israel, Ghana, and then a cruise out of Barcelona with my family.) If I were thinking about it more, I think I’d feel strange to be leaving India for such a long time after living here for about eight months. But, as according to my first blog entry here, I’m not thinking too much about it yet.

The orphanage is still running pretty smoothly. Our construction workers are still working hard, and are near completion on the kitchen (the clay stove needs to be crafted) and the septic tank (hoorah!). They’ve also built a moat (really) around the orphanage so that the monsoon rains don’t soak through the walls. I think that’s great, and believe that for the Children’s Village to be perfect, we need some alligators and a drawbridge. The kids are doing quite well as well. All of them are going to school every day and helping out when they’re at home. The whole of Mawsynjri village doesn’t have water right now (why? I have no idea, but apparently the taps are dry and the headman hasn’t heard the reason yet), so yesterday all the small kids took a good chunk of the morning hauling water from a small pond nearby.

Since the Children’s Village has opened, I’d missed all of our visitors from abroad. (They came while I was traveling with Dan.) But, no longer! On Friday, Suzanne Reitz and her two daughters (Julia and Margot) from Wayland, MA, came to visit. Birialna taught the kids to sing “We Shall Overcome,” and she, Dari, and the mothers cooked up a delicious lunch for us. The Reitzes really enjoyed seeing the children at play and their tour around the house. We also swung by Kong Barr School so that they could meet Pynkhraw and Phlinsimai, who are Wayland’s sponsored children.

Then, we continued onto Wahmawlein, Wayland’s partner church village, with Nangroi. The ladies got to see Wahmawlein’s new soccer field, of which they had helped a bit with construction a couple of years ago. We also had our second lunch there (when you’re visiting places in India, you better have an empty stomach at all times!). The Reitzes only had that one day in Meghalaya, and I’m so glad that they spent a good part of it at the Children’s Village!

One other thing I want to write about in relation to the Reitzes visits is the idea seemingly a decent number of folks have out here that Americans have infinite money. An awkward subject, but it should be broached.

I was really glad that the Reitzes didn’t have anything to give to the kids right then; of course, it was explained that their church sent Pynkhraw and Phlinsimai to school, fed them, gave them new clothes, etc., but that’s all. No extra frills gifts beyond the most important things, which is providing a good home and good education. It seems very easy for the kids to get that bad impression that they can just ask foreigners for anything and then immediately receive it. For example…

People have given me a ton of stuff to give to the orphanage, so I’ve been bringing it over there in stages. Stuffed animals from Fairfax one day, games from Janis and Pittsburgh another, etc… Well, the kids sort of think it’s all from me. They also sort of think I built this house singlehandedly. Because I’m the foreigner they see the most, this is somewhat unavoidable. They also think Nangroi and I are the only ones in charge, as they really don’t see anyone else from the Management Committee on a frequent basis. They’re kids. They’ll have ideas.

The First Unitarian of Pittsburgh’s knitting circle recently sent a bunch of adorable knitted hats to the Children’s Village, but there were only 12. We have 14 kids, and I checked first to see if two kids already had hats. Krom and Batkupar did, so I thought I was safe to give out these gifted 12. But when I did, the mothers decided that Pynkhraw and Blestar wouldn’t want the hats. The boys were not consulted on the matter, so I felt pretty badly for them, especially because all of the other kids love the new hats and wear them all the time. Thus, I went to Shillong and bought them each cool grown-up-boy skullcaps. I am very glad that the boys love those hats and wear them all the time too. Everyone is warm and pleased! Hoorah! But, then, the next day, I had a conversation with Blestar in my broken Khasi. He’s the best English speaker out of the kids, and I think was nominated to have this conversation. He told me that he and Pynkhraw wanted to ride bikes to school. (Don’t we all, right?) I asked him, “Who will buy you a bike?” He said that I would.

Yikes! Already, an impression that I, the American, have infinite money, and just because I personally bought them 100 Rs ($2) caps!

So, in conclusion, if you are visiting the Children’s Village, be careful about showering the kids with lots of stuff. I’m not saying that folks shouldn’t be generous and donate clothes, board games, sweets, etc., because our budget is pretty tight, and we really don’t have enough to get them toys and such right now. But, you know, not bicycles. Not whatever the kids ask for. This is the even the thinking of the Management Committee, especially because if the kids at the Children’s Village get a bunch of really nice new things, it could cause a division between them and the other local kids. The children already appreciate their new home and that it was “friends abroad” who made it possible. We definitely don’t want them to grow up believing it’s okay to expect their providers (mothers, sponsors, whoever) to give them whatever pops into their mind as a want. I guess that’s really the case with all children everywhere, isn’t it?

To shift topics…

*                        *                       *

I’ve done some other great things this past week, notably taking an Art of Living course, attending a Khasi archery competition, and having some last-time meet-ups with Marisa (my American-in-Shillong compatriot) and my friends at the S.O.S. Children’s Village.

But, now, I will write about my crusade for cats.

Some of you know, I am on a crusade for cats. As background, I am not a “cat person,” and am reasonably certain that (like my mother) I am allergic to them. Most cats, I don’t like at all. They’re either forcibly friendly (“no, I don’t want to pet you! stop rubbing your head on me!”) or annoyingly aloof (“why do I feed you if you just sit in a corner and glower at me?”). Dogs make way more sense.

Then, I came here and met little (Richard) Corey. She’s a great cat. If she doesn’t want to be held, she hops away without freaking out. If you don’t want to hold her, you put her down and she doesn’t freak out. She doesn’t whine or purr. She enjoys being carried around on your shoulder as though she were a parrot. She is the perfect cat.

I’m pretty attached to the little girl, so understandably, I hate seeing her eat rice. The dogs mostly subsist on rice, which is probably not the best for them either, but I have a dog at home, and know that dog food contains rice. You know what cat food doesn’t contain? Stuff that’s not meat.

For months, I’ve been trying to explain that the reason why Corey sometimes has “weakness” (and why our other kitten, Sarabi, is so skinny) is because cats are carnivores and cannot digest all of the plant matter they are being fed. It even says so on Wikipedia! So it must be true. But, no one listens. So, last weekend, I went to the vet under the claim that if we’re going to donate Corey to the orphanage (which is Mei’s plan), we have to figure out why she gets “weakness.” No one wants a sick cat as a gift, after all. First, the vet was free! How is that even possible? Amazing. Second, I learned that when she turns one in the fall, we can take her to the vet and she can be neutered (for free!). Third, I learned from the vet that she should be eating beef and dried fish. It’s good to have a supportive professional opinion on the matter. I can tell the mothers to feed her fish every day, as per the doktor jong ki miaw’s orders. I feel like my crusade for cats is somewhat successful.

But why do I go on this crusade? I’ve talked a bit with other American folks I’ve met out here – Pip, Barbara, Marisa, those Presbyterian ministers (Abby and Alisa) – about this question. After these conversations, I’ve decided it’s because there are a ton of problems I see out here, and I just can’t fix them all. No one alone can. I can help built this orphanage, but that doesn’t help my neighbor’s kids who have parents, but not enough food to go around. They’re all malnourished. I can’t help their older brother who would like to go to school and has good exam scores, but has to stay here in Kharang to harvest crops (or, and I don’t think this is a big exaggeration, his family might starve). I can’t help that the Kharang’s water is polluted because it’s near impossible to build a septic system to encompass a whole village. I can’t get caught up in all the problems I see, or I’ll become paralyzed by how much there is. So, part of my focus while I’m here goes on these cats. I feel like I can help Corey.

And the cats are, I think, a good example of what I see in our kids. So, there are two kittens here, Corey and Sarabi. Corey was born here to Kong Robinson, and Sarabi in Shillong to Blackie. Kong Robinson is malnourished, and lost her other two kittens. Blackie is well-fed, and all three kittens thrived. Sarabi has already surpassed Corey in size, even though she’s two months younger, and in general seems much healthier.

You see this with the kids too. Yesterday, Pynkhraw (our eldest boy, 15) was teasing Badashisha (one of our oldest girls, 13) because she’s really short. Like, really short. As per my usual discipline-by-embarrassment principle, I turned the teasing back on Pynkhraw by showing that I, Huge Caucasian American, am taller than he is (at least for now, sheesh, that kid’s big). But, the point of the matter is, Badashisha will always be tiny because she hasn’t been well-taken care of in years. You all saw that picture of Marshall in my last blog; he’s four years old and looks like he’s maybe two! This is the case with a bunch of our kids: they’re scarily small. Working at MATCH, we learned about the importance of early childhood education in lifelong learning ability. If a kid starts falling behind in preschool, it just builds on itself, and then he graduates from high school with the equivalent of an eighth grade education. (By the way, that’s the average stat on high school grads from urban American schools.) For example, some of our incoming ninth-graders didn’t know what fractions were.

My hope is that with this orphanage, these kids and future kids can get proper care earlier and thus grow into healthier and happier adults. My hope is that it’s a good career for our mothers and Birialna, and that they can be happy with the job and help their families with what they’re earning. My hope is that Corey, one cat, will get better food and soon sterilized. The Children’s Village is a small operation if you zoom out to Meghalaya, India, Asia, the world… But, like MATCH, I think will it be very effective in helping this small group, and for them, it is a very important new home.

Two truths and a lie.

•March 27, 2009 • 1 Comment

This is a game I’ve played before:

Oh goodness, the monsoon has so started. Yesterday, I didn’t leave the Mukhims’ house until about 2 p.m. because it was raining and hailing torrentially, and the road to the orphanage is a mess when it’s raining out, and marble-sized hail is scary. However, in that time, I taught Dari and Wanrilung to play “go fish” with the Seattle-themed deck of cards Dan gifted to them. That was great.

I am not a good disciplinarian. I have been asked to give a talking-to to the two older boys (Blaster and Pynkhraw) twice since I’ve been back from my trip, and (in addition to not speaking Khasi…) I found this difficult because I’m not a great scolder. You’d think after a year at MATCH, I’d be better, but I’m just not. My only slightly effective method is to embarrass children in front of their peers. So, I leaned on this again. Using broken Khasi and my “what are you thinking?!” face, Blaster and Pynkhraw were thoroughly embarrassed in front of their peers because they had to clean the walls inside the house (after they’d played soccer there… come on boys!), and then again for being smelly because they were refusing to wash their school socks. Badashisha and Pynkhraw’s sister Phlinsimai, our two oldest girls, laughed mightily throughout said talking-tos.

Which brings us to the second truth: Enjila is actually Marshall. I’ve written about this child before: this is the one who is pretty terrified of me because I’m white, and looks really tiny and malnourished, and never speaks. Shortly after the children moved in, the mothers discovered that “Enjila” was a boy. Asking his brother Bankhrawbok, they learned that their guardian had decided to place Marshall in the orphanage instead of his sister. Nangroi and I came to know about this just before I left on my trip. We’ve done some research locally and have been communicating with Dee and Marshall’s sponsor, but basically what Bankhrawbok told us is all there is. I feel at fault for this confusion, as I was the one who greeted the guardians when they dropped off the kids, but I don’t think anyone on the OMC would have thought that a guardian would, without telling us, decide to bring a different child. Not to mention that while we were got signatures from all of the guardians agreeing to admit the children, these village kids don’t have birth certificates, which complicates the “hey, is this the right child?” matter. Eesh.

But, out of this big mistake comes our greatest success story (in my mind) thus far: Marshall.

As I’ve just written again, he was terrified of me for this whole first month (as in, would burst into tears as soon as he saw me). He was unsteady on his feet and wouldn’t talk to anyone. They thought they couldn’t send him to school this year.

But, the mothers gave it a try. Marshall has been attending nursery class at the local lower primary school. And I’ve seen the other kids trying to reach out to Marshall, even though he’d often strike at them and, as I mentioned, never say anything in response.

Three days ago, I saw Bobina (the middle child from Padu) trying to play with Marshall. As usual, he hit at her and made a big old frowny face. But, after about half an hour of this, I heard Marshall speak! I looked over at them, and saw Bobina teaching Marshall and hand game. I was very happy about this, but certainly wasn’t going to spoil it by walking over and sending him into a crying fit.

But, the next day, I saw Bobina carrying Marshall on her back toward me. I rushed inside, again trying to avoid upsetting him. I sat down with some of the other kids to play pick-up-sticks and jacks (thanks, Janis, for leaving us that box set!). Marshall and Bobina sat down too. Marshall wasn’t crying! Then, the kids asked me to take pictures of them, and I took one of Marshall. After showing it to him, he seemed pretty happy. Then I took a really cute picture of him and Sunita (the older girl from Puriang).

Here’s that photo: And yesterday, he let me work with him on writing the letter “O.” He got pretty good at it, and we gave him a lot of praise. For a kid who we didn’t think would even be able to walk to school, much less attend, he’s doing really well!

So, even though Marshall wasn’t supposed to join our Children’s Village family, I think he’s benefited a lot from living there. I’m happy we have hm.

Really, all of the children are doing quite well. Nangroi, Birialda and I often comment to each other that we’re surprised how quickly the kids have taken the Children’s Village as their home, and how quickly the kids’ health seems to have improved. They all look great.

This upcoming week, the mothers are going to have the children write letters to their sponsors. Our part-time administrator, Ms. Thwiss, is going to translate the letters, and I’m going to print photos of each of them. So, if you’re a sponsor, hopefully you’ll have a letter and at least one picture of your sponsored child sometime in April!

Lastly, I’ve decided to go to Harvard. (Though I’m not sure if my “I accept!” to Harvard went through… Oh, cell phone internet!) A few things really helped my decision. First, I talked with a couple of current UU students, and it sounds like the UU community there is very positive, affirming, and close-knit. Second, I e-mailed all of the HDS UU “denominational advisors,” and one name looked really familiar… And then, when Reverend John Buehrens (former UUA president) e-mailed me back, I realized, “Oh, that’s the name on all those church buildings out here. OH.” Lastly, one of the students I talked to is an intern at the UUA’s international office. I would like his internship one day. And maybe Reverend Buehrens’s job too. Let’s see what unfolds in the future.

Tags: bad news bears, badashisha, birialda, blaster, dari, enjila, go fish, harvard divinity, john buehrens, kiddos, letters home, marble-sized hail, marshall, mawsynjri lp, monsoon, mothers, ms thwiss, nangroi, omc, on the homefront, phlinsimai, pynkhraw, wanrilung




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