I have cried more on this trip than I have in the last 10 years of my life. I have learned more on this voyage than I have in my 16 years of schooling. How do I begin to express my experiences in India? Words seem too limiting, too confining, too defining for a country that is far beyond my vocabulary and comprehension.
"Don't give to the beggars," they said. "Don't give them money. Don't give them food... don't give them handouts." Well, I won't give them money, I may not give them food, but DO NOT teach me to ignore, disregard, or disrespect my brothers and sisters.
I will give ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, out of respect for living as a human being... I will give ATTENTION that everyone needs - despite our class positions. I will give to India.
I smelled the curry as I passed the food vendors and I smelled the garbage around each corner.
I heard the sounds of the traffic in the city and the song of the insects in the village.
I saw the poverty through my polluted eyes and inhaled the exhaust of the vehicles around me.
I tasted the food... I tasted the air...
At the Dalit Village I took a moment alone, bent down and touched the solid ground, that wasn't so solid, beneath my covered feet...
India touched me. I touched India.
A young girl sat in my lap and I rubbed her back as a mother would for her child. I felt the infected wounds that bulged out through her shirt. I shook the hands of an elderly woman, whose skin was rough enough to cut me. I extended my arm to a young boy that had cuts on his body. I opened my arms and was graciously welcomed by the people of the village.
A touch was all they needed - a touch was all I had to give.
"Don't give them money. Don't give them food." Fine, but I did give them something and they too gave me an irreplaceable gift.
India touched me. I touched India.
Back on the ship I heard comments like, "India's not my kind of country. It's too hot. It's too polluted. There are too many flies. I'm tired of the beggars. People are rude. I'm sick of the poverty." - - -
Well, I'm sick of those attitudes! It's okay to be uncomfortable. It's all right to feel uneasy. It's acceptable to feel overwhelmed - I'd be worried if you weren't.
We make our own choices and we sure made them clear in India...The saying is backwards in India... It's not "look don't touch" - it should be "touch don't look."
"Don't give them money. Don't give them food." But hell, we all gave them money! We bought, we shopped, we consumed. We gave our dollar. We gave our dollar and they bought something to eat. We gave them money. We gave them food.
I went on a tour and realized that I didn't hear a word my tour guide said. I played with the children, I reciprocated their smiles, I laughed WITH them... I sat NEXT TO them. I shook their hands.
They gave me a source of energy that was being drained from me each day, but I relied on them to fill me up with the life that I felt so guilty for having.
I watched other students, staff and adults disregard the people around them.
"Don't give them money. Don't give them food."
I gave them a smile and the life mirrored back at me was worth more than the money in my pocket or the taste of the food waiting for me back on the bus.
I did not speak the language, but I communicated with some of these people better than I can sometimes do with my fellow Americans. I didn't need to speak the tongue to understand what they were saying. Their touch told me - - my touch told them.
The images of India keep me awake, the sounds of India ring in my ears, the smells of India affect my senses, the looks of India spark a mixture of emotions, but the touch will never die.
Even if I tried, I could not forget the touch of that child as she fit so perfectly to the curves of my body. I cannot forget the hands of the family I shook in the Dalit Village, or the girl on my back (hands wrapped around my shoulders)...I cannot forget shaking hands with the grandfather of the children at my side. I will not let myself forget...
"Don't give them money. Don't give them food."
They gave me so much more. They touched my soul.
India touched me. I touched India.
I have no right to feel animosity at the people who "can't wait to leave India." - "To each his own."
But I ask you, "What's wrong with feeling uncomfortable?" We were there for FIVE days... they live that life forever.
It's okay to feel dirty, smell bad, inhale the fumes, visit their world for FIVE days...
Pollution and poverty cannot escape India, but it does not define it. India has beauty, talent, intelligence, creativity and tradition. That does not have to be washed away or cleaned off.
I met beautiful people in India. Their skin may have been dirty, their nails filled with grime, their hair unclean, but my friends - some of their souls were cleaner...purer...more honest...more loyal than yours or mine.
The smiles of the village community do not justify happiness with their positions. It does not say it's okay to live like that. It does not mean that we should accept extreme inequality. But it proved to me that these faces, these smiles, these people found some irrational sense of hope to push for survival.
"Don't give them money. Don't give them food."
Do not encourage me to detach, desensitize, or disillusion myself because I will be gone in five days.
Give them respect. Give them acknowledgement. Give them support and you'll be surprised at how much they can give you.
I have never met people who have so few possessions, but are so willing to give. And us - we have so many possessions and we're told...
"Don't give them money. Don't give them food."
But give them life and touch and let them give you a sense of perspective.
If I lose my hearing, the sounds of my 21 years of living will still echo through my mind.
If I lose my taste, I have a mouth full of flavor to suffice.
If I lose my smells, I will let my imagination fill in the blanks.
But may I never lose my touch.
May I always remain open to touch for that unconditional acknowledgement of one human being to another.
