Another day another dhal

something for me to aspire to


arun and me

making cowdung cakes

Bharwa- Ruths patient who passed away

Destitute patient sitting outside the hospital with maggot infested wound



I was sitting on one of the rooftop's here at the ashram enjoying the afternoon winter sun reading a book. The roof overlooks rural fields where nomad rajastani herdsman and their families often set up camp during the winter months. There was a group of 3 young teenage rajastani girls giggling away while they collected cow dung with their bare hands. They would squat down and knead it as if it was bread dough. They lay these out to dry and then sell them on the side of the road. The life they live is in such contrast from the teenagers I know back home but they seemed so happy in their work. They live in tents with dusty dirt floors and are far from rich in a worldly sense but the strong community relationships they seem to have is probably the one biggest thing that sets them apart from the destitute patients that we mainly deal with in the ashram. So many of the patients here seem to have the same basic story. Mothers or fathers dieing, extended family or parents new spouse abusing them or unable to look after them, leaving home in search of a better life, ending up on the street, getting into drugs or abusive relationships resulting in a major illness and therefore coming to the ashram. The single most important thing, I feel, to prevent this is not more money, but more love. A close knit family and supportive community in most of their cases would prevent their downward spiral of events. The community aspect of the ashram is therefore a major focus. Not only providing healthcare, food and shelter for these patients, but also, a community where they feel loved and valued and where a hope in the future can be restored.
Hearing there stories, it’s actually so amazing that most of the patients here still seem to be capable of so much laughter and smiles.

India is a land of such huge contrasts. With one billion people living in a county, I guess it’s to be expected. A country that has some of the richest people in the world is still home to the largest population of the poorest. Delhi’s malls and metro system are nicer than any of seen all around the world but it’s ‘rivers’ and roads are also the dirtiest.
There are a lot of huge palatial houses in Delhi but 160000 people live without a home, sleeping on the streets (that’s more than the whole population of my city, Hamilton, living on the streets!).

We've had some pretty crazy experiences in the last couple of weeks. Ruth was taking one of our sick patients to the doctor when he stopped breathing. She had to perform CPR on him with the help of a breathing bag in the back of our makeshift ambulance van but when they arrived the doctor was not there. The CPR was unsuccessful and the patient died. She had to turn around and drive back to the ashram with the body. First time a person has died in her arms.
I was at one of the public hospitals with an Indian worker and we found a guy sitting out the front of the hospital with half his foot missing. The bones were all exposed and there were maggots eating away the flesh. Back at the ashram I had to pick the maggots out of his foot with tweezers and try to clean it as best we could before trying to get him admitted for surgery...something you would assume to be simple with this kind of wound.

Stories like these at home would be so out of the ordinary and a few months back would have been so hard to deal with. But, here they seem to be so much more normal and just a part of life. It’s funny how well you can deal with crazy situations when you're here.

jake