leper colony or a colony for those affected by leprosy

Two notes before continuing: a) most pictures (except the train and the two ladies) are from a google search. I didn't specifically site them, but use the google and credit shall be given. b) this one is long: read at your own risk.

We visited a leper colony today. 

Technically, we didn't visit the actual colony. My understanding is that this is a place of employment for various lepers from five different surrounding colonies. I believe most of the people we saw today come, work, and leave at 5. There are patients that stay/live here (I'll get to that later) but many go home.

This place is called Gandhiji Prem Nivas and it is in Titagarh, India.

The day started by meeting at the Mother House at 7am. This trip is something you needed to sign up for and people are turned away from, so we're glad we a) knew about this and b) remembered to talk to Sister Mercy Maria in advance. There were 16 of us going. The 6 females were instructed by the Sister to ensure that we had a guy with us at all times. Teresa, Sarah (from Boston) and I looked at Daniel (the 18 year old from Mexico) and signed him up. Let's be honest, in case of trouble Teresa and I will be protecting small Daniel. Sunina, a volunteer, took us on the bus to the train station, got us onto a train, talked to a local to ensure we knew where to get off and waved us off. Thankfully we were all in the same car which made the whole endeavour significantly easier. I have no idea how long we were on the train for as I was more than content to look at the world go past my window. On the car there was a young girl playing local music through a speaker and she then went around with a cup accepting donations. I figured that since I didn't a) ask for the music and b) necessarily appreciate the music, I didn't have to pay. So I didn't.

We arrived at Titagarh station with few instructions on where to go from there: we did know that we had to cross the railroad tracks. Daniel had been talking with the gentleman on the train and said we were to look for a blue building. In hindsight, it seems like an obvious thing/place but when we were all new to it, there we no indications on where to go. I walked with confidence in a direction, although I had no idea what I was doing. Daniel and I spotted a blue building and started walking but soon got cut off because the muddy path was not walkable. It was around this time that one of our Spanish (Spain) University student group members questioned, "is this the right way?" (Sidebar: there is a back story to this that doesn't need to be shared but, let's just say that I/we was/were done with these folks early in our journey and my love for them did not grow on this day trip, it did not even stagnate. It regressed. Hard core.) My response to his question was a sassy, "how are we supposed to know? No one in this group has been here before. We're just trying to figure things out." A local villager helped us bypass this muddy road and our detour took us past several (50?) cows in a stable; they were clean and apparently well-fed. I have no idea why or what the purpose of that is but...we saw it.

Once we got to "the blue building" it seemed clear that we were at the right place; this building was long and you could hear the clicking of the looms working inside. We went to the main entrance and waited for the brother to give us a tour.

As the brother got us set up for our tour, there were two of our Spanish group members who were talking through him. This is a pet peeve of mine (and not just because I'm a teacher) so I kindly sshh'ed them. They sshh'ed me back and gave a mocking look. Yep, this is what we're dealing with here, folks. Thankfully the girls in their group also told them to be quiet. Not that I needed validation, but it was there so I took it.

Refresher: the people who work here are former patients; they've been treated for their leprosy and are now employed at the facility. They get paid. The brother explained that because of the stigma of leprosy it is very difficult for these folks to get jobs. I have read stories where Indian children known to have leprosy have been left at hospitals by their parents or people have been kicked out of their apartments when the landlord found out they had leprosy. This place is a bit of a safe haven. 

The first room we entered was that of the cobbler's, just like you'd see at Black Creek Pioneer village. There were two men making soles for shoes out of old tires. They had about 12 sandal prototypes on display. It is important for folks with leprosy to wear shoes as this disease damages peripheral nerves so cuts, blisters and ulcers on feet especially, can go largely unnoticed. If left untreated this commonly leads to infection and, often, amputation or worse. Anyhow, two guys sitting on the floor, one missing a leg, the other missing some toes, were crafting soles for shoes from tires. A pretty neat introduction.

Next we moved to a rhythmically beautiful area: a long room with 50 looms, operated by both men and women. It is hard to describe how they work as we walked slowly past, but there is a combination of both feed working different pedals and both arms at about eye height pulling on different strings. The music of them all working, not in sync, was beautiful. This facility makes all the clothes, sheets and saris for Missions of Charity homes and sisters in India. It was neat to see the patterns on the looms that we are familiar with from the homes.

(Note: they make more material than just this cloth for the sister's saris, but these are the only pics I found online)

I didn't get as much of detail as I would like but I believe that this facility buys white thread and dyes it accordingly. Through a big drum the thread is put onto spools. The spools are then weaved in a loom. I found it most interesting that nearly each cloth pattern had a secret colour in it.

After seeing the loom section we were told about a school they have on site for the children of the employees. Teresa and I were the first one in and were quick to leave; we interact with children enough and decided the Spanish university students would benefit from such interaction. As we went into the adjoining room one of the caregivers called me, some of the littles and another caregiver over and insisted we take a photo. Although strongly against instructions from the Sisters, I did it anyways.

We were led to the prosthetic shop where they make wooden legs. A man was shaving one down when we were there. We saw various prototypes and pictures of people wearing prosthetics made in that shop. Very interesting.

We saw a garden where, among other things, they're growing eggplant. We saw weeds in the garden that Teresa and I felt compelled to pull (our dads and our most recent boss, Seth, trained us well) but we found a way to restrain ourselves. There were ladies preparing food for lunch and others working the gardens. There is a farm onsite with 53 goats, 46 pigs, and some rabbits and hens. What they do with these pigs? I did not remember to ask.

The most moving part of the day was when we went into the room of the patients. We went into both the male and female wards; this is where they are being treated and stay overnight. My guess is there were 50+ beds in each ward and both were almost full. Each person greeted us with hands in the prayer position and, usually, with a "Namaste". (One said, "como estan?" - how are you in Spanish - and it made me happy). I returned their gesture and greeting of namaste to each and every patient. In the men's ward, which we visited first, I was hesitant to have any contact with them but I did look them all in they eye. This was hard to do as I wanted to stare at the effects of their disease; I was mesmerized by the impacts of their illness: their gnarled and mangled fingers, missing toes or legs, pushed in noses and the like. Each patient on a bed had a visible effect from this disease seemingly only from Biblical times.

I remember this disease from the New Testament stories (where Jesus went right up to them) as well as World Vision shows I frequently watched as a kid. My recollections of this disease is that fingers, toes and noses fall off and people with leprosy are societal outcasts because leprosy is dangerously contagious. Well, I am semi-right on the former but wrong on the latter. The disease affects peripheral nerves so patients begin to lose feeling in their hands and feet. This happens because the bacteria causing leprosy (yes, it is a bacterial infection) grows better in cooler areas, areas that are lower in temperature than the core body temperature: the appendages. After patients lose feeling, they often injure their appendages and/or the nerve damage causes loss of strength leading to paralysis which leads to the clawing of hands and feet. So often toes, and fingers less so, will fall off because of injuries, infections or other unnoticed wounds but this is a secondary effect of the disease. As for being contagious, technically it is but based on what the brother said and some quick reading, 90-95% of people have an natural immunity to the disease. And you can only get the leprous bacteria if you come into close and repeated contact with the nose and mouth droplets from someone with untreated leprosy. Leprous pregnant moms do not pass the disease onto her children. It is completely curable. Fun fact: it is called Hansen's disease because Mr. Hansen first saw the bacteria under the microscope in 1873. MMMMbop.

For those of you concerned about my health and me bringing leprosy back with me: fear not.

After visiting the men's ward, we went to see the ladies. For some reason I was overcome with a sense of peace in this room and I changed my tactic (note: this was t-minus 8 seconds after leaving the men's ward). I bowed and said, "Namaste" to each patient but I also touched each one; I made sure to go to every single bed. I figure if I have this idea of them being social outcasts, I likely think similarly to the majority of society. If the brothers worked with these people regularly and if they allowed visitors then I can't be in grave danger. I shook most of their hands, or what was left of them. They were gracious and receiving and, although a grave generalization, seemed more pleasant than some of the ladies at the home that we work with. Don't read into this: I'm just trying to make the point that they were pleasant. At one point I said out loud, "Jesus went and touched you guys so I guess it's okay for me to". Teresa laughed. It was moving to be in a part of the world with such deep yet visible brokenness. 

After visiting the female ward we went to the dressing room (you Canadians - this isn't referring to a hockey rink) where dressings/bandages were being changed. I am fascinated by these parts of the homes - I often gravitate to injuries. I watched for longer than most as people's amputated legs, fallen off fingers etc...were being treated and re-bandaged. The people working on the dressings are either brothers or former patients; there will be a natural empathy built into this process with former patients involved. I only watched for a couple of minutes but my gut reaction is that it is a neat system.

We were then treated to tea and the infamous Missions of Charity biscuits. Thankfully, it wasn't chai tea. Not gonna lie, the trip four years ago created a great disdain for chai tea and Teresa and I have both successfully avoided it so far. The brother debriefed with us and then, hilariously, wanted a selfie with our group after which we departed for the train. It was an unexpectedly calm ride home. Teresa, AnnaPaula and I strategically found ourselves on the females-only car. We all got seats. It was glorious because apparently this train is known as THE worst train in India - in terms of crowdedness, theft and other crimes (ie rape). Knowing this, we were more than please with our lot. There were three vendors on the train selling everything from hairbands, to bangles to earrings to scarves. We chocked it up as yet another cultural experience.

When we got off at the Kolkata train station (where Saroo finds himself in Lion) it was a different story. I have been in the public transit systems of Toronto, New York and Boston at their rush hours but this topped it all. Busy. I was wearing a neon pink shirt (thanks, Ultimate team) and I'm freakishly tall here so I was the centering point for our group. At one point Daniel and Sarah came up behind me, put their hands on my back and said, "I am so thankful for your pinks shirt right now" (Sarah) "and your height and your high bun and your purple hair. Thank you." (Daniel). We followed Teresa out of the station (she has the Spiritual gift of direction - she just knows this stuff) and to the street where, oddly enough, it became a place of respite. We hopped on the bus and were back in our hotel by 1ish. 

This was a moving day. I am not yet sure how moving as it takes me a while to process, but it was moving. Stereotypes were destroyed, Biblical times came to life, something that was always 'so far away' became real, Jesus and his actions were seen in a new light, hope was shared and there was a sense of inspiration in seeing people who "should" be outcasts contribute meaningfully to society. Although I'm sure there are flaws in this program, as there are in every program, I was not there long enough to spot them and for that I am very grateful. As Catherine said last night, "you notice too much". I am choosing to be at peace with taking what I saw at face value. 

If we can swing it, this will likely be a place that Teresa and I visit again.