Eating my words

I have to thank a lot of people for getting me to the point in my life where I am today.

You meet a thousand people on the road, every day brings new encounters by the truckload, and sometimes you forget how important those encounters are. How much they change you.

Nine months ago, I met a girl when I was rock climbing in Thailand. A woman who I shared a moment with - literally a moment - before scrambling up a rock face and losing myself to the majesty of the climb.

That chance encounter led me to Kolkata and into the life of Deepa, a blind girl living in chaos.

That chance encounter led me to the beginning of the most frustrating experience of my life, as I joined the fight for Deepa's right to therapy, her right to add her words to our world.

Every evening I would return to my guesthouse exhausted and emotional. There, I would vent endlessly to yet another inspiring woman in my life about the dead-ends and disappointments of the last 12 hours. This wonderful person would listen calmly, offering advice when needed and silence when necessary. My work with Deepa was being resisted at every turn, my presence at the Orphanage greeted with hostility each morning. Without the constant support of my friend, I would have abandoned all hope.

In fact, I almost did abandon hope. I almost quit.

Until one day, a relative 'breakthrough'. An invitation (or should I say an acceptance of my proposal) to provide a workshop on safe feeding techniques for children with disabilities. Aka, an opportunity to explain that force feeding a handicapped child Is. Not. Acceptable.


Change.

When they said yes, I thought maybe this was it. This was the opportunity we had been waiting for to get everyone on the same side. They were accepting me, showing an interest in learning from me.

One would have thought it would be smooth sailing from then on in.

Guess again.

The sister in charge of this particular floor of this particular institution was certainly not what you would call 'forthcoming' with information. When I asked about the educational background of the women I was training, or when I tried to determine what the expectations of this workshop would be, the responses were always
"Don't worry."
" You don't need to know. "
"I will take care of these things. "
"Stop asking questions, you need to learn patience."


..... I need to learn patience?!?!?!

Imagine my anger and overwhelming desire to hit something when I returned to my friend's guesthouse balcony after THAT particular conversation.

And then, gradually, as my companion's kind silence soothed away the rough edges of my rage, we started to discuss the best way to go about making this workshop a productive one.

"You have to make these women feel important" she said.

"Value them first, let them know that their role is a necessary one in the orphanage. No one gives these women the time of day, so of course they don't want to listen to you."

She was right, of course. I later discovered that the Indian women working here have little-to-no education. They come from small villages around Kolkata, most are illiterate, and they earn less than 50 dollars a month. Nobody sees them as important, nobody gives them any credit.

Of course my friend was right. But I wouldn't have thought to take the empowerment angle on my own. Knowing how little time we had together, frustrated by the lack of support from those in positions of authority, I was prepared to slam down a bunch of information and walk out. And I would have said it was their fault if nothing changed, because these Indian women 'weren't ready to learn". Because they 'don't want to change'. Because I was so caught up in my own prior experiences that I wasn't willing to change either.

Instead, thanks to the wisdom of my amazing friend, I took a different route. Hours were spent fostering relationships and valuing the caregivers. Instead of giving information, I asked questions. Instead of talking I listened. And slowly, over the course of a few days, they started to listen too.


Not just listen, but learn.

Yesterday, I watched three women speak in gentle soothing voices, feed children with small spoonfuls, wait till each mouthful was finished before offering another one. Yesterday I watched people change.

And I heard a change too.

Deepa said her first word.

"Up up up" as we climbed the stairs together.

Filled with joy and excitement, I went to tell the woman in charge about this amazing milestone in Deepa's life.

And here, again, a change.

Instead of chastising me for going against her wishes and working with Deepa behind her back, instead of getting angry with me as she had on so many other occasions, she smiled.

"There is another girl here who is also blind. Maybe you can work with her too."


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....together we make changes happen. Those who advise us, those who cajole us, those who confront us are all essential to keeping things growing and moving forward.

So this is my shout out to the people who have made this journey possible. Who have helped to get me, and Deepa, and all the women at the orphanage, and so many others, to get to this point where we are today. The battle has only just begun, but it never would have even started without all of you.

Thanks team.