Part Two of Super-Lengthy & Overdueness

The following week, I made it to Snehalaya with the daughter of my host (the lovely Manju) as companion and translator on my day-long tour of their programming.  Bharat took us to see and learn about so many of the programs, yet we didn’t fit them all in in a day.  I was able to reunite with Girish in his office for a bit and he was so warm and welcoming.  

Manju, me & Girish Sir

It was so touching how well they treated me and made me feel welcomed.  I even gave a radio and television interview regarding my impressions of Snehalaya, NGOs in the US compared to India, and women’s safety in society (newsrooms in India were busting at the seams with stories of women’s issues as it was the initial aftermath of the Delhi rape case at the time...also fodder for my mounting disgust every time a man eyed me up around that time).  

Children's dormitory, caretaker

We visited Snehalaya’s residential rehabilitation center where over 350 children and women live (mostly children).  The children are primarily children of prostitutes who have given them up to Snehalaya’s care and legal guardianship.  A small number of prostitute mothers come to visit regularly and yet another small number of mothers are ex-prostitutes who now also live there.  A good percentage of the children are HIV positive, some from prostitute mothers who do not want their clients to know they, too, are HIV+ so they disassociate from their children for that reason, and some from parents (not associated with the sex trade) who also are disassociating because of the stigma the disease carries (even if they gave their child the disease themselves which is most often the case).  The women who live there are ex-prostitutes coming to Snehalaya for a transitional place to stay while obtaining an education or trade experience so they can support themselves.  Others are women who have been rejected by their families and/or husbands for whatever reason and have no means to survive on their own.  Some of the women have become employed by Snehalaya as caretakers of the children, office staff and kitchen staff. 

Near the rehab center there was a school for the resident children of Snehalaya as well as children bussed in from the slums and nearby villages where they weren’t receiving education for various reasons.  In India, the law states that children must be in school but the law doesn’t necessarily ensure the means for children to make it to school (transportation, costs for supplies & uniforms, etc.) therefore, still so many children are slipping through the cracks with no education.  Snehalaya bridges this gap.  

We then toured an on-site HIV hospital (30 bed) and outreach center.  Girish started the HIV clinic in 1989 when local doctors and hospitals routinely rejected HIV positive patients.  Today, private hospitals continue to be too costly to most who need treatment, and government hospitals lack sufficient services.  Snehalaya provides free hospital stay and treatment, ambulance, outpatient consultation, lab, pharmacy and counseling.  They also have a government contract as a CCC (Community Care Center) to provide treatment and psychosocial support to individuals with minor opportunistic infections under the National AIDS Control Programme.  

Let’s see.  What else did we do?  I got to see some of the dormitories of the children and say hi to them.  Sweet faces everywhere.  Children of all ages...4-18.  The small children attend the grade school at the rehab center while those in grade 5 and up attend local government schools.  A building was being constructed at the time to serve as a secondary school by the end of the year.  

 We also got to see a new office building which would also house a dining hall, which was also under construction.  Recently, Snehalaya was chosen by a sort-of reality show, hosted by one of India’s top actors, Aamir Khan, as a beneficiary of a matching donation.  Satyamev Jayate (the show; Saytamev Jayate translating to something like Truth Prevails) toured the country and producers selected worthy groups who they thought represented the issues faced by the common man (or woman, or child) of India.  Throughout their episodes, they highlighted issues such as female foeticide, child sexual abuse, dowry, insensitivity toward the physically disabled, domestic violence, untouchability and more.  After each episode, they appealed to the public for donations to a chosen NGO related to the theme.  In the first episode, Snehalaya was highlighted.  Through a matching grant of public donation (via mobile phones during the airing of the show) and the Reliance Foundation, Snehalaya received 3.26 crore rupees (almost $600,000 US, if I’m converting correctly).  This donation was funding the construction of the office/dining building.  

Old dining hall

I was shown the previous dining hall and kitchen area which was quite small.  I was told that most of the residents do not eat here because of lack of space, but that food is prepared there and delivered to dormitories for the children and women to eat in their rooms - basically at their beds, on the floor.  All were looking forward to an efficient and communal space to dine.  

New dining hall, inside

We moved out to another area of the city to visit Snehalaya’s radio station (where I gave an on-air interview).  They use the airwaves to promote social awareness and change, and offer a platform for others to spread information.  

Next to the radio station was the adoption center.  Offices were downstairs while infants and toddlers lived upstairs in 3 rooms.  One room was cordoned off and had ICU type equipment for the smallest residents.  The other rooms had double-bunk-like cradles lining the walls.  

Oh man.  Babies.  Such beautiful babies.  Nothing pierces the heart quite like eye contact shared with an adorable, dependent, yet rejected baby.  It’s difficult to wrap my mind around in the moment, but I also know and understand that women all over the world (and my guess is that in India even more so with particularly unique social pressures) are in extremely difficult circumstances and have to make brave and frightening decisions, sometimes to survive, or to ensure survival of the child.  Bharat informed me that babies have been found at train stations, abandoned.  Some have been found lying naked only on a piece of newspaper.  Some have been left in a cradle on the street outside of the adoption center.  

Some have been dropped off at temples.  Some are HIV+.  Some have not made it to the adoption center because animals have found them before people intervened.  On a more positive note, there are 2000 couples waiting to adopt so each of these children will be part of a home and family.  When I visited, about 25-30 little ones were there.  

Bharat & me enjoying some quality time

Finally, we went to a building that houses the Child Rescue Line.  Snehalaya started the telephone hotline and rescue response team in 1996.  In 2003, national legislation passed requiring child lines all over the country so Snehalaya took on that contract.  An average of 250 calls come in per day to this particular Child Line (one of 85 in all of India).  This is already a long blog post so I won’t recount stories I heard, but you can read real and current (and incredibly horrifying) stories from the Child Line here: http://rescue.snehalaya.org

Also in this building operates an outreach team for the GLBT community.  They provide education, counseling, community events and more.  This is quite progressive for India, where homosexuality is utterly shunned, and especially for an area like Ahmednagar which is not a metro.  

As we were leaving, we met up with a group of women having a meeting in a side room.  I was asked to sit for a photo and they were very welcoming.  With the limited English that was being spoken, I didn’t really know what was happening  (that’s a daily occurrence so I tend to just roll with it).  After I left, I was told that it was a group of prostitute women having their monthly meeting.  Each red light area has primary contacts (prostitutes) appointed who facilitate communication and efforts between the prostitutes in their area and Snehalaya.  Through them, Snehalaya provides education, alternative employment opportunities and a sense of community so that the women can create and experience empowerment.  At the time, the women were discussing problems they have had with the police (sometimes the police are their clients, sometimes the police work in collaborative ways with brothel owners to exploit the women, etc.).  The women also do work with Snehalaya, toward Snehalaya’s mission.  They ensure from the inside that no prostitutes are under age 18.  They also are stationed at bus stations and train stations to watch for women and children who seem vulnerable.  They then can report suspicious activity or act as witnesses if something later arises.  

And lastly, we visited Anamprem, a home and vocational facility for developmentally and physically challenged residents.  They ensure that the children are mainstreamed into quality education.  They also offer a Braille library and organize an orchestra of individuals with disabilities.  

There is so much that I didn’t see or haven’t mentioned yet - A new project village starting up for societally rejected HIV+ adults, a tech center for vocational training, community centers set up in slums, youth camps, and more.  But for now, here’s your intro to Snehalaya.  

So, to continue with my story... I visited Snehalaya that day and it was an incredible experience.  This was the type of social work I had wanted to be involved in.  I was invited to volunteer for a few months and live at the guesthouse on the residential campus.  I was ready to get involved in any way I could, and ready to get back to Kerala to make arrangements to move. 

The month of February was a little bleak.  I was figuring out how to make this happen and that took some time.  I spent a lot of time going crazy, pent up in the house (the tropical dream-house, mind you, so I can’t complain about that).  It was depressing, actually.  I let it get the better of me for awhile, but after some coordination, I finally just ripped the bandage off and stuffed everything into my suitcases and said goodbye to Kottayam and my friends and roommates there.  I traded limply-trudging through 95 degree, bright-green mugginess and banana trees for dry-as-a-bone, cloudless, 100 degree zombie days.  

It amazes me how states of India differ so dramatically.  The people, the sights, the infrastructure, the ecology, the foods, the ways.  The WAYS.  And I have a soft spot for the ways of Maharashtra.  Eating meals on the floor, humbly offering fresh vegetables to gorgeous cows on the street, the enthusiasm for foreigners, the contrast of old ways and new ways.  So many vibrant things.  Sigh.  I’m going to leave it at that for now.