Sisters of Mother Teresa

Some of the children I work with. We just got done with a dance lesson.
They are a joy.

The sisters of Mother Teresa are as beautiful, incredible and selfless as one would expect. The Sisters I met were sent to Nepal from Calcutta, after having trained under Mother Teresa herself. As we sat together chit chatting and laughing, one of the sisters (whom I believe was an elder sister) and I decided to be pen pals. “I am very happy with you,” my new friend from India exclaimed. “Well, I am very happy with you!” I replied in a very, well, typical goofy way. She shook her head smiling and handed me a small gift instructing that I say my prayers. “Come back to see me, Katie, and I will have a rosary for you” she said.

I walk into the shelter, eyes wide…
I see people who are unable to care for themselves.
They are covered in flies; missing hands and feet; blind and deaf;
one woman has a 4x4 inch round growth on her face.

I look over to see a little lady curled-up on a small round mat that is more than sufficient for her emaciated 65-pound frame. She is rocking… blind and deaf… rocking. I nervously approach and reach out my hand. We sit there together, unable to communicate as she touches my arm, my shoulder, my face, and still rocking, she begins to smile. She holds my hand tight, pulls me close, and we stay like this for 45 minutes, together embracing the joy of human touch, of love… among pain, blindness and a past I will never know or understand.

“Are there homes for the elderly in the U.S.?” a sweet 18-year-old Nepali
volunteer asks. After I reply yes, she asks “How are they different?”
I look to my right at the human feces lying in what I believe
is supposed to be a drain,
I look at the people covered in flies,
the woman pleading for medicine,
“They are just different,” I reply…

I’m feeding a beautiful old woman until she is too tired and wants to lie down. She puts my hand on her hip and says “pain, pain, pain all over” (In Nepali). I massage her hip, her arm, and shoulder. “Please, medicine,” she pleads over and over.
I am told that they don’t receive medicine here.
From what I understand,
this is a place for them to “die in dignity…”

Regardless of the lack of medication in this place, the poorest of the poor
are cared for, fed, loved… as everyone in this world should be.

Katie

Katie's Adventures

I had the opportunity to journey to some ancient temples...
I walked past a cow burning in the street (a sacrifice to the god/gods),
saw pottery being fired and was taken by a young Tibetan
to view the astounding sand art and paintings crafted by monks.

A beautiful woman crafting a rug at the Tibetan refugee center.

Time with Olga

Hello Hello ;0)

Dinner and then coffee with an awe inspiring women has left me consumed with excitement and has fed the overt optimism that guides my life…

Olga Murray, to keep it brief, has single-handedly saved the lives of over over 6,000 young girls of Nepal, not to mention the thousands of children/mothers she has educated and saved from malnourishment. She has been on Oprah, was asked to be on Greg Mortenson’s board of directors (for those of you who have read the book Three Cups of Tea), and the list of accomplishments goes on.

Her organization NYOF works in the rural areas of Nepal where girls are sold, as young as six, by their poverty stricken families for $40-$70 into a “bonded” life of slavery. They are often fed scraps, given away as wedding presents and treated as possessions. Olga's method is that she gives the family a goat or pig (better than the money they would receive) in exchange for the girl, who she sends off to school. With $100, she is able to rescue a girl, pay for a year of education and compensate the parents with the animal. Just $350 pays for 6 years of schooling, which enables the girls to complete through grade 10 (equivalent to graduating high school).

The girls, educated on their rights, return to their communities where they organize clubs, write and perform plays for community awareness. They are now turning entire communities away from the practice entirely. If they find that a father in the village is going to sell a young girl, they will march up to the door of his home in their school uniforms to confront him…incredible.

With an organization Olga started just a short time ago, she is empowering an entire nation of women. The key is that after she is gone, what she has brought to these villages will carry on forever through the women, their children, and their children’s children.

Olga is now 84 years old. When she retired in 1992, she began this career. The message in this is that it is NEVER too late.

“I feel so fortunate,” she exclaims sipping on coffee, “I am now happier than I have ever been.” I can’t help but smile as her kind and still vibrant eyes look into mine… as I am utterly consumed by indescribable inspiration.

Check out Olga's website: www.NYOF.org

The Rest of the Story from yesterday...

In many villages throughout the world:

Health:

There is no hospital near and if one is sick they may have to walk hours to attempt to get treatment at a place that has few, if any, supplies. Many can’t afford 20 cent vaccines, mosquito nets to protect from malaria, or the dollar a day it costs to treat HIV…

If a drought takes place starvation sets in for men, women, and children…

Equality:

There are no police… abuse of women is often common and accepted… they are viewed as mere possessions… perhaps holding the role as the 4^th wife

Girls as young as 6 are sold at the market by their fathers into a life of slavery for as little as $50… (more on this later)

Education:

If the village has a school, teachers are often not equipped to teach and supplies like books and pencils are nonexistent. The kids are needed at home to help with daily chores and an education, while highly valued, does not supersede the necessities of survival.

Don’t doubt that my stay in the village was incredible. The people of this place were beautiful and kind, and treated me like family. Still, problems associated with village life are vast and dire. The issues of concern, of course, differ from place to place but what seems to be consistent are those of health, equality, and education… things we still struggle with in the industrialized world.

Well that's all for now... later aligators- Katie

New from Katie - more tomorrow...

I am sweating like crazy but cannot remove my long sleeve shirt… a tank tap is all that I am wearing underneath and bearing my shoulders is essentially equivalent to being naked… the spicy fried Nepali food and warm milk tea increase my temperature still yet. (Recently I discovered that this lovely milk tea contains 15-20 grams of fat per serving. For fear of offending the wonderful people, I drink the FIFTH cup given to me today while mentally plotting how to start kindly turning down this Nepali staple!) I gaze out the window of the little hut at the children bathing and playing in the river below… I am overtaken with the beauty of this remote place. Movies are truly reminiscent of reality… I am in a movie.

The truck/jeep has picked us up and I am in the back end utterly squished. The vehicle is having a tough time due to the weight of the 15 of us packed into the back end and the additional 8 clinging to the ROOF. A Nepali man is shoving rocks under the tiers to get us up the hill and dust surrounds me like a thick cloud. I’m clutching a scarf to my mouth in effort to filter the air and squeeze my eyes shut to keep the dust out. This is our only option of get to the remote village… all I can think is “my mother would kill me if she saw this!”

The children from the village jet out of their homes to check out the spectacle of a jeep passing through, and after 10 hours of travel we have finally have reached our destination. Greeted by “namastes” and smiles I hand the woman who has opened her home to us a bag of cookies, and do my best to say thank you in broken Nepali. We’re instructed to wash our hands and feet and prepare for dinner.

Sitting on a square rug on the floor in Indian style I take on the task of learning to eat the erroneous amount of food placed in front of me with my hands (as is tradition, no utensils my friends!) Breathing deeply I struggle to swallow the last bit of curry, beans, and rice, when, to my surprise, she piles MORE food on my plate. Then, while filling a cup with milk from the buffalo that is five feet away, she instructs me to “eat, eat”. It is completely unacceptable to leave any food on your plate, so, miserably stuffed, I follow directions. After dinner, feeling blow up like a balloon and exhausted from the day’s dusty journey, I happily close my eyes as I lay on a firm straw bed and cover up with a cozy yak blanket. I just ate a dinner cooked over buffalo dung… I think…

Many of us have the perception that village life is one of idealistic bliss, emerson into true culture and the harmonious simplistic life of living as one with the environment. While this tranquil perfection is semi-existent in some communities it is far from compete…