There are 28 kids who live here, ranging from 6 to 18 years old. They each have their own story
of how they came to Little Flock. One little girl was abandoned at birth and was then adopted by aMuslim couple, but the adoptive mother died of a heart attack when she was 5, and the father could not support his children.
Another brother/sister pair came from a village near a tannery. There is a high rate of cancer in the village due to the chemicals used to process the leather hides,and both their parents died the same year. There are several children whose father left or died,
and have a mother that works as a day laborer (called a “construction coolie”), carrying brick or
wood branches on their head. They brought their children to Little Flock because their daily wage of approximately $1 cannot support their children.
Some of the children’s stories are so tragic they are unimaginable…One girl witnessed her step-grandmother throw kerosene on her father because the grandmother did not receive all of the dowry money she was demanding. She remembers seeing her mother rush to help him only to be burnt alive with him. Another girl and her sister were brought by her mother. Her father was depressed because he was not able to provide for their family. He got drunk and burned himself alive.
Had we not known these stories, we never would have imagined these children had been through such painful experiences, with so much reason to be angry and hardened, yet they are so loving, warm, and joyful.
The schedule here is very consistent, with the wake up bell at 6am along with the Hindu chants
via loudspeaker from the nearby village, at 6:30am is a morning chapel time on the porch with
singing and a short message. A big breakfast is served at 8am, with rice as a staple, a spicy sauce with vegetables, and often a hard boiled egg (we get excited over the rare treat of scrambled egg...and I, Christy, admit I’ve had my share of PopTart cravings). Helen, one of the cooks has become our Indian
grandmother, making sure we eat more and more. “You need big belly” she said when we first
met her, and she has been working to give us round bellies like hers every day since.
At each meal the boys all eat together at one long table (along with Barry and Trevor), and the
girls (with Shayla and Christy) eat at another on opposite ends of the dining hall. They wait till all have been served, then stand and sing grace, and then begin.
Boys and girls are kept quite separate here, for meals, games, and all activities (which is accordingto government requirement for the orphanage). It is not common for men and women here in
India, even married couples, to show affection with the opposite sex.
As the day proceeds, we have another filling meal at 1pm with the children if they are not at
school. When they are at school, we work on various projects to help little Flock, or help teach
English at the village school (which they value very much…more on that in a future blog).
The bell to gather rings for a Tea time of hot chai tea with fresh cow milk and a snack made by
the cooks at 5pm to tide us over until a late dinner. It’s not as hot outside by Tea time so we
often play outdoor games then (and enjoy the new playground we were able to help construct!).
Chapel comes around again at 6:30pm with more singing, scripture and prayer, and yet another
filling meal is served at 8pm. We haven’t really noticed a striking difference in what is served for
breakfast, lunch or dinner, except for the occasional morning hard boiled egg. The food is much more spicy than we are used to, but so far, our taste buds have adapted!
Shayla writes: “One way we got to know the girls is by letting them teach us a traditional Indian
dance in their Girls’ Cottage. We tried hard, stumbling, to imitate their moves and achieve the fluidity that they all had. They then asked us to show them an American dance, to which we laughed and weakly showed them the Macarena, and the ‘robot’. The kids of Little
Flock had just rehearsed and put on a Christmas Show for each other days before we came, so all the kids knew the same dances and they performed them for us one evening on the glowing
porch. It was absolutely priceless, especially seeing the boys really getting into it.”
One thing I know we will miss most is hearing the kids say “Auntie” (“Onteeee”), or “Barry Uncle,”which began from the moment we arrived--by the kids of Little Flock, and by kids outside their huts waving as we walk in the village, and at
the nearby school as we arrive at the gate. What a privilege to be called Auntie and Uncle by
these precious kids!!
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