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