Strong Women All Around...

Hello Everyone

We are preparing for a busy weekend.  We have a field trip to some public gardens a couple hours outside of Kolkata tomorrow with some children from a red light district shelter.  And when we are finished with that, we'll be taking an overnight train trip to Darjeeling for some sight seeing and fresh air (please!).  So I wanted to blog a bit about the past few days before we head out.

Thursday was my fourth day in a row at the same shelter outside of Kolkata.  And while I was starting to develop trusting relationships with the survivors, I was struck by a few events that began to unfold.  Our presence in the shelter home was clearly having a positive effect on the girls.  Our visit had brightened their living space as we washed walls and added fresh coats of paint.  We created a giant mural and the girls painted the tree of life and beautiful animals and flowers.  There were many hours spent drawing, creating art, or using physical activity to reconnect with our bodies.  There was joy and light in all the children.  And all along our volunteers had been connecting and building relationships with the staff.  There are six Indian women employed at this shelter - the block printing teacher in her thirties to "grandmother" in her mid-seventies.  Some of the women are also residents at the shelter, caring for the girls twenty four hours a day.  While others commute from other parts of Kolkata.  These are beautiful, elegant and traditional Indian women.  And during the course of the week I had begun to tell them about my home in the United States, my family, my children, my husband, my sisters, my parents, my interests.  I was sprinkling my English with a little Bengali and a whole lot of hand gestures.  Throughout the week they continued to come back to the story about how I have known Adam since childhood and confirming that he is a "nice husband, not angry".  They were all blown away by "husband care for five babies in United States".  The director hung up a photo I shared of the the kids and told me that she "loves my family story about old love".  We talked about how I live on the very edge of the United States, near beaches on the Atlantic Ocean.  We discussed their family stories, shared photos, and talked about seizing the day because not another hour is promised to any of us.  Something tells me that this lesson is everpresent in their world.  And I am humbled. 

During the morning of my fourth day, the children are playing and I'm invited to tea with five women employed in the shelter.  They ask me to tell my story again - teenage love, university, marriage to "kind, smart man" and lots of babies.  They asked me, "What does your husband call you?" - and I'm confused.  "Does he call you sweetheart?" - And I play along, "yes".  She tells me "this is girl talk, stay with us and talk".  I'm a little emotional as I start to realize that the freedom I know as women isn't only unique to the children, but to these adult women as well.  And finally, when it becomes harder to get into much more detail about our lives with the language barrier (and my love story has been exaggerated and romanticized enough - sorry Adam...) I get up to leave and the director stops me.  She says, "Can I come to the United States and live with you forever?  I will be your grandmother."  I smile and hug her, I say "of course!" and she promises to cook and clean for me and there is a deep sadness in her eyes.  The sadness of a little girl inside this old woman's body that knows this is a dream, a fantasy and that her life is here in India as it always has been.  However, they've come here - to this shelter - a husband lost, a job needed, as a survivor themselves, I have great respect for the work they do, the care they give, the tragedy they touch every, single day. 

And after lunch this same afternoon, in the hot Indian sun,  I notice that most of the women have joined our soccer game for the first time all week (perhaps since their own childhood).  They are tentative and smiling at first.  And slowly I notice how good it feels for them to move their bodies, kick a ball, and laugh out loud.  They are naturals - strong and able.  And I'm almost crying.  I take my time chasing a ball that gets away - to swallow my emotion, to swim in the present moment, to thank my lucky stars for who I am - for my freedom, for this adventure. 

Like everyday in the shelters, it's all beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.  There are lessons taught and learned.  Joy, limitations and some very harsh realities.  We travel through brothel allies, night shelters, new fair trade businesses with survivor employees, and full time live in shelters.  We are here now, for another week as a breath of fresh air.  But these women are in the thick of it, caring for these girls and young women in some of the most intense, polluted, populated, trauma centered places in the world.  And they still dream and hope for the future - for themselves, for the survivors.  There are so many lessons, so very clear - today I give thanks to the all the women who have come before us, for women like this who paved the way, did the work, pushed through and stand by as we use their gifts for our collective freedom.  Namaste...

Love,
Janell