India: Projects-A-Plenty

Day by day at Little Flock there was always a lot going on. There were projects happening specifically because teams were visiting, like the Playground project that we were able to raise funds for. We had various setbacks with tools and materials along the way, but what a JOY to see the kids filling the swing set and “breaking in” the monkey bars and the teeter totter in our last few days there.

We also took part in a Garden project, adding plantings like beans and squash and tomatoes, and making “stepping stone” markers and painted rocks with the kids to label the various fruit trees and vegetables growing.

Viji also really wanted us to do school work with the kids. Recent exam results for some of the kids showed they were struggling, especially in math.

We tried to work on multiplication facts whenever we could. There were lots of “high fives” with Ashok (a bright young man whose dream is to be a doctor), when he got to the final step and mastered his “12’s” in under 10 seconds. We also did crafts daily that the San Jose team had brought along,

and Barry gave Ukelele lessons (while learning to play himself) with Samuel who had brought 5 from California.

Being able to go and help in the village school was another thing we loved...though it was crazy and chaotic! When we arrived to the school yard, the whole class of younger kids from 2nd to 4th grade came running out to greet us. We soon realized that their teacher had not shown up today, something that is not uncommon in village schools.

We gathered all 40 of the rowdy kids into a big circle, to sing songs. Hokey Pokey went really well, but as soon as we busted out “Old McDonald,” they all went wild. Quickly we realized the only way to keep them all under control would be to break up into small groups like we’d planned. Several of us walked to a small patch of grass flocked by a group of small girls in uniforms (and bare feet in the sweltering heat).

At first it went well. The goal was to help them with their English pronunciation since they rarely have exposure hearing a native English speaker. We first learned each of their names, around the circle. As we moved on to asking about favorite colors, they stared back at us with big brown eyes, in obvious confusion. We resorted to pointing at objects while they yelled out its color in a flurry of excitement. 

After that, we lost them! Some began to braid our hair, others ran away to pick up  seeds from the tree above, and others crowded in saying, “Auntie, Photo!”.

Phew…The groups rotated. But soon we had a crazy group of boys clumped before us. I quizzed the few that would stay seated, on English words. Their mouths struggled to form the sounds, but I praised them when they got close. At one point, a bell rang, and all the kids jumped up as more filled the school yard. It was absolute craziness.

We were stampeded by an excitable group of girls yelling, “Auntie! Auntie!”…Boys clamored to play thumb wars over and over. By the the time 4:00 rolled around, we were worn out. We waved goodbyes to the joyous kids, glad that we would be teaching the older kids instead the next day. As much as I love little kids, it’s tough when you have 40 of them who just want to climb all over you, plus a language barrier thrown into the mix!

From meeting village kids at school and on our walks to the school and market, we were especially excited to learn about projects initiated by Little Flock to help support and sustain families in the village. A woman named Karen had been coming to Little Flock year by year from California to teach village women the skill of jewelry making, and she was there for 2 weeks while we were there. Little Flock was able to pay the women for the jewelry they produced, and sell them at Little Flock benefit events back in the states.

For a day’s work of making jewelry, they were able to earn $3. Originally, Little Flock paid the women more, but they found it upset the economy of the village. Typically, women may earn $1 a day for a full day of construction labor. Instead, they are now able to walk to nearby Little Flock, make jewelry on the peaceful porch, talking and laughing with other women, rather than doing “hard labor”, and earn a higher wage  to support their family. While Karen was there, she had seen one of the village women develop in her jewelry making skills, and her ability to manage the quality of the work of others.

When Karen shared with her the news that they would like to “promote” her into a supervisor role, she was trembling with emotion and clutching onto Viji and Karen’s hand. Now the women could keep coming to Little Flock every day, not just during Karen’s visits, but week after week, earning a steady wage for their family. Our whole team rejoiced at this milestone.

Little Flock also has a Tailoring program for women in the Village. Rani (Queen), Little Flock’s Tailoring instructor, teaches the girls sewing and embroidery on weekends…but Monday through Friday while the girls are at school, village women come to learn sewing skills. During our stay, a delivery of 10 new sewing machines arrived. Now Little Flock will lease the machines to the ladies so that they can take them to their own home, and earn money doing tailoring work for others. While we were there, we got to see a group of them receive certification from her program.

Another exciting development during our visit was the “Groundbreaking” of the new Community Center that Little Flock is going to build on its property.

In it, there will be rooms with permanent equipment for visiting Doctors and Dentists to provide clinics for families in the village. When we first walked through the village upon our arrival, women were pointing to their eyes, and to one of our team wearing glasses. We later realized that they had come to the “mobile” clinic at Little Flock before when American eye doctors were visiting, and they were hopeful that we were there to bring medical care on our visit. We could see firsthand from our little taste of village life, that this center was going to be a wonderful resource for this village community. The center will also hold a computer room, and ideally will one day will evolve into a school, so that Little Flock kids and others in the village could have a higher quality education than the local village school can provide.

We were excited to see and participate in some of the projects at Little Flock that we could see were of benefit to the kids and to the village. And while Viji expressed appreciation for the many projects our teams participated in, she always stressed above all that the most important thing we could do while at Little Flock was to shower love on the children, play with them, and give them a chance “to be kids.”

  

That,  indeed, was our most favorite part of all!

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Village Life Beyond the Little Flock Gate

From our first day arriving at Little Flock village, we got to experience life in the village where Little Flock Orphanage resides. Our first exposure was walking the road through the village to meet the Little Flock kids at their school gate and walk them home.
As we walked, we saw women washing their clothes out on the cement road with little ones at their side, cows roaming in and out of yards, flowers and food offerings put out at Hindu shrines, motos whizzing past, and more.
 


  In our second week on our walk to teach a 2nd time at the village school, we stumbled upon quite the unexpected experience. As we neared the first row of homes, we heard loud popping sounds, and saw poufs of smoke. I imagined it was yet another Hindu tradition. As we rounded the corner of the dirt road, I saw a long row of motorcycles, parked one after the other. I figured many people had traveled here for the celebration. Clumps of men wearing white collared shirts and traditional Indian male skirts lined the narrow cement road. 
One man walked up to me with his hands out, but I shook my head, not understanding his gesture, so he passed me and walked up to my dad and shook hands with him. The young Indian man put his hand on my Dad’s back and I could hear him say, “Mother. Dead.” That is when I realized slowly that this was not a Hindu celebration, it was a funeral for this man’s mother.
It was quite evident where the funeral was taking place. The third house down was decorated with colorful flower wreaths. As we got closer, I could see that women filled the home’s front patio area. We were moving slowly because of the amount of people filling the road but suddenly Dad was brought by the man into the patio. In that moment I panicked a bit. Most of the group had gone ahead and passed the home’s front gate, but I still hadn’t, I wasn’t going to leave withput Dad.  It was such a strange feeling…we were in such an unfamiliar and uncomfortable situation. Soon enough, the group past the gate got pulled into the courtyard, moments later, I was invited in too. Inside the gate, I passed a cluster of women in colorful saris and stepped under a hanging canopy. As I was ushered in past the rest of our group, I saw Dad and a couple of others kneeling down.
It all happened slow in my mind because my heart was pounding and I was full of adrenaline. I saw 4 women kneeling in front of a large rectangular box. They banged on its plastic sides, and I could hear choked sobs. At first glance, I saw inside the box: a magenta covering over what I presumed to be the body. My eyes skirted left—a mistake—there I saw the face of an older woman with brown lines of age. You can tell she had been beautified for the ceremony. My heart stopped. I immediately looked away and kept my head down for quite some time. I stood by the end of the clear coffin box, and then I saw her gnarled feet. It soon became clear that it would be more respectful to kneel down behind the rest of our group.
Then, one of the men came forth and shooed the sobbing women to the side so that we could be closer to the body, which surprised me so much. The fact that we, as people off the street, had priority over her closest family and friends was dumbfounding. For several minutes, I kneeled on the concrete patio, my hands clasped and my head bowed. As my heart sped, I  prayed in that moment. I knew it was likely she was Hindu and she may have never known God.
Here I was in India, thousands of miles from home, praying for a dead Hindu woman in the humid air, experiencing my first ever funeral…not to mention my first time seeing someone dead. Little did I know, 3 days later I would have my second such experience.
I took one last glance at the clear casket adorned with wreaths of blood red and sunny yellow. I walked out and passed through the open gate. A flash of relief washed over me. Despite the sadness, unfamiliarity, and bizarreness of the situation, it was truly lovely.
We gathered back up along the road, and then scurried to keep our commitment at the school with no time to absorb what we had just experienced. Later that afternoon, from our dorm house window, I saw a long line of people just outside the Little Flock gate. I was told by one of the kids that it was the funeral procession, apparently the crematorium was directly across the road. The woman’s body, no longer in her casket, was now hoisted up by four men on a woven stretcher decorated beautifully with colorful flowers. Later walking in the village you could see the remnants of flower wreaths likely tossed during the procession, they looked wilted and dreary…a reflection, I’m sure, of how her family now felt.
A few days later when we went to teach English at the village school, we sang some more English songs, and gathered in conversation groups in the grassy yard…which evolved into frolicking games of tag. The teacher came out amidst our laughter-filled chasing and gathered everyone together. She shared with us that a teenage girl who had attended this school, and was now in 12th grade, had committed suicide. School would be dismissed now (30 minutes early), as there would soon be a Procession coming through the village road right outside the school, and she wanted all the kids home. 
In a neat string of interactions, Dave, a pastor who was with us, offered to pray over the situation. The teachers asked all the children to gather in close. It was neat to be surrounded by so many small children with caste marks on their foreheads and necklaces representing Hindu gods, perhaps experiencing someone praying to God for the first time. It was an intimate moment, despite the language barriers, and it was an honor to be with them as they received the difficult news.
Our time at the school had been cut short, and the walk back with the boys was quieter than usual. Then later when the soft evening had come, the procession came past Little Flock. The sound of drums beating rang through the grounds. I could see tens of men walking to the cremation site. Some Indian men who were former Little Flock staff invited mom and I to come along. We reached the crowd and to my relief the girl’s body was obscured from my view.
This time it was less frightening, probably because I was aware of what was happening, unlike before where the funeral had come upon us like a wave. I was also accompanied by mom, and we had our knowledgeable Indian guides. Mom was encouraged to come forward to honor the body, but I was very reluctant. I begged Carter, a fellow team member to stay back with me, but eventually we joined Mom’s side. Our guides explained that the men would lay down the wood, place the body on top, and then pile more wood on top of her. They would set it all on fire, come back in the morning, and collect all the ashes for a special ceremony.
I watched the men strategically placing wood, pointing, and giving rapid instructions in Tamil. None of them seemed to be grieving, and I wondered whether any of them were her close family. Through people’s legs I could see the woven mat she lay on, and the red fabric she was wrapped in. Even though I wasn't as alarmed as last time, my heart was still pounding rapidly. When someone shifted, I allowed myself to look upon the girl’s face. The red covering went all the way up to her chin, and you could see her body’s thin outline. I could see very little of her dark hair, and her eyes were partly open. She looked very peaceful, and I wondered what her story was, what she had been like when there were life in those eyes. If she was anything like the incredibly kind and joyful girls I had come to love at Little Flock, I know she would be greatly missed.
Upon arriving back through the gate, Gracelyn, one of the girls’  “house moms” told us what she knew about the girl. Her parents had arranged for her to be married, but she had fallen in love with another boy. They would not accept the boy she loved, so, with poison, she took her life. Apparently, the boy also attempted to take his life--eerily like  Shakespeare's “Romeo and Juliet.” Gracelyn said that suicide is not uncommon there because of arranged marriages, which is extremely sad.
One of the Little Flock girls, Kousalya, told me that the girl was her friend’s older sister. The connection made it even more personal and heartbreaking. She had been the first in her class and had a bright future ahead. But because she would have to live her life trapped with someone she did not love, while the one she did love was kept away from her, she took her life. I couldn’t even imagine her hopelessness, but by taking a step into her situation, for once I could see why she made that choice.

While we experienced  some of the saddest of times in the village, we also got to experience joyous celebration.  It turns out we were there during one of the most significant Hindu holidays – Pongal—their Harvest celebration. It is celebrated for 3 days. As we walked through the village, we could tell something special was going on…most homes had elaborate designs in colorful powder on the ground at the entrance to their gate.
On the first day, it is a time of “burning the old”…many homes had a fire in their front yard, adorned with flowers positioned around it. January 15, the 2nd day, is the most important. Families buy a new clay pot, and wear new clothes. As we walked through the village, we could see children and women dressed up beautifully.
One after the other as we passed people, we were greeted with a very energetic, “Happy Pongal!”

Everyone seemed in such high spirits.


We could hear the pop explosions that night in the village. We were told that “In India, we celebrate with fireworks whenever possible
 The 3rd day is in celebration of the Bull. They explained to us that on that day, people bathed their cows in milk, and decorated the bulls with color and flowers, though we didn’t get the opportunity to venture out for any glimpses. We had no idea that we would be in India during this very significant Hindu holiday, and we certainly didn’t anticipate taking part in one, let alone, 2 intimate funerals in the village. We felt honored and humbled to be part of these rhythms of life in the village, the painful times, and the joyous ones.

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India: Snake Village Visit

By Shayla

A few days after we arrived we walked to a nearby village which some here call Snake Village. Much to our surprise, we did run into a snake (about 5 feet long!) coiled up just a few feet from our path. Thankfully, after a heart-pounding moment, it darted into motion in the opposite direction.

On our first visit,10 of us walked, single file, down a small dirt path behind the Little Flock property. I really wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was thrilled to go meet some new kids. I followed the group along a cinder block wall until we reached an opening. Immediately villagers came out from their homes to meet “the visitors,” and sometimes  whole families met us at their make-shift stick gate.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The whole scene was like a photo out of National Geographic, with little girls holding bare-bottomed baby brothers on their hips, barefoot little boys ran up and down the cement road pushing an old bike tire with a stick and women in colorful sari’s carried water jugs on their heads in the evening dusk.

Kids flooded the street, smiling and calling “Auntie! Auntie! Auntie photo!” The people  of India love being photographed, and I love capturing their beautiful faces.


We made our way all the way down the main road, passing thatch huts and green rice paddies. The village road came to a dead end, and at the last house several women with small children emerged. Twin baby girls with precious little faces were passed around among our group.

 
Dave, the pastor of the Twin Lakes Church group there with us told us that the few houses at the end of the road were all Christian families, which is uncommon in a majorly Hindu area. The father in the last house showed us a picture of Jesus, and pointed to his heart earnestly. Dave and several others joined with the family to pray together, which was truly powerful. It amazes me the way God brings together His people all over the world

I clicked away with my camera, showing the kids the images of their beaming smiles and immediately I was taken with them all. They were so full of joy, and absolutely willing to share it with us. One little boy told us he’d be right back and he came back holding a small bleating goat, and handed it to each of us in turn. It was utterly surreal. Look what our life has become, marked by the simplest interaction, yet filled with SUCH joy. I’m telling you my heart was radiating.
A hilarious boy named Mori with curly hair, about nine years old, was the “class clown” of the village. He had the biggest smile of them all, a rather mischievous one, and knew how to get the crowd’s attention. His signature move was the trick hand shake where he would pull his hand away at the last moment, and pretend to slick back his hair, which never failed to make us laugh. He and I would play hand clap games growing faster and faster until my hands stung. 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At one point Dad and some  others led the kids in a round of Hokey Pokey, singing loudly, with Mori in the center hamming it up. The older girls about my age practiced their broken English with me, but most of the kids knew only how to tell you their name or ask for a photo. But none of that mattered. 
  
The charm of smiles, warm energy, and silly games allowed us to communicate in a wonderfully joyful way. This  is humanity at it’s core, we are people who seek connection and laughter in one another…even in complete strangers when all stigma is stripped down to the bare bones.
We were also able to give away our first friendship bracelets made at the Guinness Record event. The kids were delighted to receive the colorful gifts. I hope they felt loved somehow by our community who hand made each and every bracelet. We want you all to know that a piece of your creativity and care has gone across the world to these loving kids in Snake Village, India.

The whole visit was over in a blur. Looking back on it I just remember how magical it was. As we rounded the bend, we gave final hugs and waved goodbye, promising to be back soon. Still holding my little shadow, a little girl who had latched on to me upon arriving and never let go after I swung her around and unlocked a fountain of giggles. I was one of the last of our group to leave. She was so sweet and we were enthralled with each other. I eventually had to peel my precious little friend from my arms. Never have I felt so overjoyed and FULL. That is the best word I can use to express it all. As I wandered back down the trail back home to Little Flock in the cooling air, I felt so full of life and of love, and I knew I would be back to Snake Village. God is doing great things in this place, and in all of our hearts. It will be amazing to see how the rest of our time unfolds.

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