Nalarga

Nalarga is Tamil for good/beautiful/basically anything positive.

Seriously, people, Indians are gorgeous. Need I say more?

It's the Kids

That's what defines Rising Star. The wide-eyed, cheerful children that adore every single volunteer that steps onto this campus, instantly stealing the hearts of each volunteer that comes here. If only their mothers would let me snatch them up and take them home with me - I'd bring the whole bunch of them in a heartbeat.

One of the things you'll most often see them doing with their hands is this. It means "I love you" (see how their fingers spell out "I" "heart" "U").

My ability to remember names is quite atrocious. I can't even remember American names, let alone Indian names. So admittedly, I had to look up most (but not all!) of these boys' names on the school roster. Going clockwise from the top middle boy (even with the school roster, I still couldn't figure out who that kid is in the top left corner. Pathetic. I know.): Monoj, Basha, Vijay Balaji, and Gokulraj.

Mymonesha is definitely one that will melt your heart. She's always asking me what her name is, so nope - I didn't even have to look in the school roster for this one.

Ashok and Moorthy are two (of the four) sons of a couple that does land work for for Rising Star. Their parents, Selvi and Pandiyan, seriously have some of the most handsome boys on campus.

Vimal Kanth was one of my favorite kids last year. He is such a ham. The other day he asked one of the volunteers why she had her ears pierced in a different place than usual, and her explanation was that it was fashionable. He jumped up onto the walkway in front of the children's hostel and began to do the catwalk for us, shaking his little behind like there was no tomorrow. Apparently that's his definition of "fashion."

When the volunteers first arrive, we separate and assign them to various "families" within the children. There are four families each of girls and boys, and each family lives together in their assigned rooms of the hostel. They behave just like a normal family would - hired "room mothers" tend to the children and the kids have certain chores that they do both morning and night.

Assigning the volunteers to one family for their entire session provides the opportunity for both volunteer and child to get to know each other much better than they normally would. Each evening, the volunteers separate to their families to help the children with homework, bedtime stories, and putting the kids to bed. Last session, I was assigned to the room mother Tamilrasi's room, who was over the girls. Here I help Theresa with her "maths."

The girl that's standing is named Vijayalakshmi, but she goes by "Boogie" (who knows how she came up with that one). Although, ever since she found out my mom's name is Maryanne, she's insisted I call her "Little Maryanne." She even named her stuffed unicorn after me.

A Comparison of Discomforts

During the two weeks the children were on break, we had a wonderful opportunity to go with the medical clinic to two colonies that had not been visited by any humanitarian groups or doctors for at least forty years. We drove five hours west of Thottanaval to reach these colonies - although the area was hotter (120 degrees, rather than a measly 108), since it was more in-land, it was less humid. It almost felt cool compared to what we're used to. Almost.

The patients' diabetes and blood pressures were recorded, followed by the washing and bandaging of each of the 200 patients within both colonies. Because nearly every leprosy patient in the colonies had never seen a doctor before, some of their conditions were beyond what I had ever seen before.

Out of respect to them (and, let's be honest, for the sake of my readers), I don't want this to become a blog of pictures of gaping ulcers and missing limbs. This time will be an exception to that stipulation. Hopefully my point will become more clear if you have an idea of what we're dealing with, and keep in mind that these are the more mild conditions.

As I washed and bandaged these people - strangers; people with whom I could hardly communicate with because we both speak completely different languages - I admit that yes, I was hot, tired, sweaty, a bit nauseated, it reeked, and there were no less than fifty bazillion flies constantly swarming around and landing on me. Let me rephrase that: I was a little bit complainy-inside-my-head at times. But as I compared my temporary discomfort to the perpetual aches and pains of those I was treating, I felt a bit repulsed by my mental grumbling. What on earth could I be complaining about when things like this are still happening in the world today?

I was once again reminded of what such a simple act of kindness means to these people. Close your eyes and imagine yourself in their condition: your extremities gradually loosing their feeling; your eyelids no longer able to close and relieve dry, dirt-ridden eyes, ultimately leading to cataracts and blindness; and more so, becoming a fear and disgrace to those you love, loosing your job, your family, your whole life. Up until a couple years ago, it was legal to beat a person affected with leprosy if their shadow touched you. Beat. And then imagine someone coming up to you, touching you, and telling you that they love you. I can’t ask them to know for sure, but I imagine it would be quite an overwhelming experience.

This is what is so amazing about Rising Star’s ambition - together, we can shatter the horrible stigma that leprosy brings to its victim and share with them the love they deserve. It’s not about washing someone’s feet. It’s about touching someone who is considered untouchable. We’re all God’s children, and we all deserve to feel loved and have a sense of worth; whether we’re Christian or Hindu; black or white; high school dropouts or successful businessmen. What difference does it make, and by all means, what have we to complain about?