When Good Gets Even Better

Prelude to this post:  One of the girls came to me today right after I had taped together the slightly broken plastic vegetable bin in the refrigerator.  She said, “Mummy, I broke the box.”  I asked her what she was talking about, and then realized she meant the vegetable bin.  I said, “I thought I broke it the other evening!”  It’s true, as it gave way when I pulled it out.  OK, the amazing part is that she wasn’t afraid to tell me.  You have no idea how different this is.  The girls really feel safe with me these days.  So much has changed!  Shishur Sevay today is how I imagined it would be when we started in 2006.

Back to the blog as I had started it:

Another stretch on non-blogging.  Well, I did blog, four hours one night when I stayed up determined to write about what was going on, but as we say here, I guess it was not destined to be published.  I saved it multiple times as I worked, and as I always do, and then in a moment it was gone!  Poof!  Everything was gone except the title and the first sentence, which I had even changed.  The title was:  Tough Decisions: New Beginnings.  The surviving first sentence was, “I have had to make some very tough decisions in the past few months.”  That post is lost, but the outcomes of those decisions are really wonderful:  “When Good Gets Even Better.”

In the picture below I’m having a meeting with the current massis.  This is the most dedicated group I’ve had.   We are working out what needs to be done, and we are also talking about some of the communication that occurs.  What’s notable is the sense of relaxation, on their part and on mine.  Two significant changes have occurred.  The girls they were afraid of are no longer here ( Tough Decision).  Staff who tried to “manage me” on their behalf are not here.  I really don’t need to be managed, and I’d rather deal with what is going on than have people holding back until “the time is right” to approach me.  With less “help” I’m finding it easier.   It’s nice!

Meeting with our childcare workers -- the massis

Meeting with our childcare workers — the massis

The children are really blossoming.  When bullies are removed from the situation, all kinds of unexpected things happen.  Kids almost in hiding, suddenly emerge, and blossom.  They walk differently, smile more, pitch in more, express interests and want to do things.  The house suddenly isn’t divided into territorial lines I didn’t really know existed.

Usually time will pass and I’ll suddenly be aware of that used to happen, but doesn’t anymore.   The children with disabilities frequently had scratches, little ones…. but there was no way to know how they happened.  These things don’t get picked up on the CCTV; no one will admit, or report, even if they know.  And I try to recognize that children with mobility problems, and spasms, may get scratched in the course of bathing or toileting.  A couple of weeks ago I suddenly realized no one was bringing the kids to me with scratches… It just wasn’t happening.  I go to sleep earlier because I’m not just trying to hang on to the last few quiet minutes before the battles of the morning.  There are no battles.

The full and complicated range of abilities.

The full and complicated range of abilities.

Here is the beauty of our life here.  The older girl is in an English medium school in Class VI.  She will be having tympanoplasty in the near future.  We have another consultation Monday.   Kalpana in orange is working on a Dora the Explorer game on the iPad.  She is getting intensive speech and language therapy for her developmental delay. Ganga is watching and if she reaches out, one of them will give her the iPad to touch something.  We live together, play together and take care of each other.  When we were pulled constantly by crises of violence and destructiveness, evaluations for non-emergency problems kept being put off.    We won’t take more kids until we have our current girls all settled and cared for as I had imagined we would.

When the girls first came in 2007 I planned for the kinds of evaluations I would have done in the US.  But within weeks, we faced a crisis where the government wanted me to take more children, non orphans.  When I said no, they threatened to close us and take back the children.  Our license was not renewed for two years and then after many appeals.  I lived hour to hour afraid to leave because I didn’t know what would happen.  I remember when Bubbi’s calf was sick and I knew it was serious, I didn’t go, didn’t get one more vet, let the people caring for him do the best they could.  It was a day’s trip and I made a decision.  The kids came first.  Bubbi’s calf died.  Of course the next day the girls insisted I make a brief visit to Bubbi because she would be sad and would want to see me.

It’s not that everything is up to date… we are late in filing some papers, but it’s not crisis.  The home is not crisis ridden.

I remain so touched by the love shared especially between the older girls and the children with disabilities.  They radiate happiness and love.  I can’t imagine anything better.

Love and Joy among the children

Love and Joy among the children

Lost in Thought and Taking Care of 14 Children

No, I can’t explain why I haven’t blogged.  Sometimes the pace just doesn’t allow me to sit and think about writing, or rather I do think about it.  And sometimes there are things I cannot write about because I want to protect the privacy of the girls.  It’s not all easy times… not for anyone’s life.  So I’ve been immersed in issues of safety of the girls, mental illness, the limits of what we can manage at Shishur Sevay in terms of safety.  I really do feel like a couple of months have been lost.  I also saw my last post was about wanting an airplane.  No, I’m not going anywhere.  We aren’t going anywhere.  But we do have to move.  I’ve said it a long time.  It’s an issue of money, which makes us like many other families stuck in bad places because they don’t have the money to move.

Playing in the Garden

Playing in the Garden

I started exercising regularly, moved my bike next to my desk and I can read on the laptop, but I can’t write really.  One day I want to build a laptop tray that will fit across, but right now, my cycling takes time that I might be using for posting.

75638_10151016585421920_891280474_n

Multitasking

Well, there is more — My first book, A Woman in Residence, was published by Random House in 1982, and went through some other editions but eventually went out of print.  I’ve just completed uploading it for Kindle and it should be available as an ebook in the next day or two.  It’s a book of my journals when I was in training in Obstetrics and Gynecology.

A Woman in Residence

A Woman in Residence

I have a lot of trouble describing myself so I asked a friend to help, and she sent me this to put on the file for uploading, but I’d already sent it to Kindle.  What she wrote:

Dr. Michelle Harrison has been an advocate for women and children throughout her more than four decades working as a physician, educator, and author. Her books include Self-Help for Premenstrual Syndrome and The Pre-Teen’s First Book About Love, Sex, and AIDS, and her work has appeared in the Wall Street Journal,Mademoiselle, and Glamour. The former executive director of Johnson & Johnson’s Institute for Children, Dr. Harrison currently resides in Kolkata, India, where she runs Childlife Preserve: Shishur Sevay, a unique, non-institutional home for orphaned girls. You can follow her work at www.shishursevay.wordpress.com,

Yes, it’s true.  In India people don’t understand I’m just doing what I always do, what I’m about : motherhood, healing, doctoring.  When I was in college I was told by the Dean that I would never make it to medical school, and I did.  The book, A Woman in Residence, is about my time as the first part-time resident in Obstetrics and Gynecolgy.   When I started trying to help children in Kolkata, I was told I could never open a home, that the government wouldn’t give me the children.  But they did, and those children are with me, and I’m doing what I love, and what I’ve been blessed to be able to do.  When I was 17 I wrote a school essay about wanting to care for orphans.  It just took a long time and a seemingly indirect journey to get here.

My big girls have grown too quickly.

After the Dance Performance at School

After the Dance Performance at School

Dosa and Pizza at the Mall for my Birthday.

Dosa and Pizza at the Mall for my Birthday.

My Birthday Celebration at the Mall.

Ganga and Mummy

News wise– our rabbit died and I decided we would get guinea pigs instead.  In the US these are common pets in homes and in classrooms.   Here they are mostly eaten.  Anyway, I wanted two (girls) and instead we got four (supposedly girls) and then OOPS! one night at midnight the guard watched these three babies born.  The big brown and black one is the mother.  We need to do something quickly.  So I guess if anyone wants a guinea pig, just let us know.  We are giving them away for free (as pets).

Surprise! Guinea Pig Babies

Surprise! Guinea Pig Babies

I’m glad to be blogging again, but I didn’t get on the bike this evening.  It’s OK.  I’m OK, just trying to keep up with my life.

I Want An Airplane

In the beginning is the vision, and then the drawing, carvings,  and then the words.  I want an airplane.  There!  I’ve said it.  Maybe one day it will happen, but first I had to say it.

I want an airplane so we can all get on the plane and visit the people we know and miss in other parts of the world.  This morning we were sitting and talking about Maggie’s leaving for the US.  One of the big girls wants to go to the US.  She whispered to Ganga, “Tell Mummy we want to go to the US.”  Ganga who cannot speak has become their messenger.

Sunday morning, Mummy and the kids

So I told the girls I want an airplane. One of the girls said she was afraid of airplanes and I told her about the “happy pills” I gave to Cici when she was afraid.  Actually I think about airplanes a lot.  I want to visit the US and stay at Heather and Andrei’s new vacation house in the Poconos.  It’s big enough for all of us.  Remember we live in 1200 sq. ft. here.

My daughter’s house in the Poconos. I know we could all fit.

I want to take the girls to New York, to hear Cici’s band play.  I want them to run in the grass of Central Park, and visit the petting zoo of Prospect Park with Victoria.  I want to take them to the beach.  I want to visit all the people who visited us here.  We think about them, talk about them, miss them.  Maggie we want to see you.

I want to take the girls to Perth Australia to visit our new friends there from Curtin University.  We just had an amazing visit with them, and the work they started energized us more.  And I want to fly from Perth to the East of Australia across the most beautiful land and color formations I’ve ever seen.  I’ve not seen much of India either.  Neither have my kids, any of them.

Whenever I see someplace beautiful or interesting, I want the people close to me to share it.  I miss them more and just want to get home.  I always want to get home.   Many many years ago an astrologer friend said to me, “People don’t understand.  Your moon is in Saturn.  You want to be home.”  Cici, my younger daughter loves to tease me about being an “over-attached” mother.   There is some kind of irony in my now having children I love on both sides of the world.

Well, I’m a dreamer.  I have visions; I have wishes.  Some come true and some not.  I”m really fine if I can’t have an airplane.  I could settle for a flying carpet, big of course.

In Search of Security-UPDATE 19 November 2012

UPDATE:  Sometimes things DO work out.  The man did not want to lose our business.  In fact he seems to really want to protect us.  So, he is doing the night duty himself until he can find someone reliable.  This is a huge relief as he stays awake, walks around, and keeps an eye on what is going on.  Has he dozed off sitting in the chair?  Of course.  It’s really normal.  I don’t get upset about that.  This morning he brought in a new day guard to meet me.  The boss will continue at night for now.  He asked if we can start over.  New day begins. 

 

All security agencies provide deteriorating service over time.  It’s one of my “Harrison’s Rules of Life.”  It can take a year, or two weeks, which seems to be the latest case.  Each starts the same, whether they came recommended by someone, or from the internet…. They “LOVE’ this home and the work I am doing.  Usually they call me “Ma” but this one refers to me as Didi.  The line goes something like, “You are my Ma/Didi and I will take care of you.”  I think they learn this from watching satire.

I get scared when I realize our security is falling apart, as it is now.  We are alone here, women and children.  We are surrounded by criminals who would love to have access.  I just called the boss, the new boss, and he was “shocked” that the night guard didn’t show up, said the day guard would stay on.  I said I don’t do 24 hour shifts because they can’t stay awake!  Two nights ago at 2 am when I was up with a crying child, I saw that the guard had shut himself away and was fast asleep.  I called the boss in the morning but his phone was “lost” and the second number didn’t answer and he had already asked for “one more chance.”

Old stories for context…

First ever security agency was fake.  One of my board members, actually our Treasurer, arranged the service.  Then the local goondas discovered he was fake, fake company…..

Then there were the ones who were getting drunk from alcohol from the goondas next door.

Then there was the one I found, around 3 am, lying in our entrance way playing with myself.  It was really hard to make the phone calls to tell the company what the problem was.

Along the way I hired G4S.  They are the same company that didn’t do so well for the Olympics in London.  They are the best known, and guard the consulates here in Kolkata.  It was nice to have them because they responded to the complaints, so it was a feel good, but the guards slept and drank.

Early on the local goondas decided my guards were entitled to sleep.  These were 12 hour shifts.  The goondas demanded I provide blankets and pillows.  I refused, said I’d rather save the money and guard by myself (behind the locked grille).  When I finally demanded this guard be transferred he turned to the community and that was the cause of the first of our riots.  By riots I mean about 30 drunken men, and the women neighbors too screaming at me to leave, telling the girls they will kill me, and telling me not to call the police because they owned the police.  When I called the local political leader he said, “They don’t want to hurt you.  They just want your money.”  That was so reassuring.

One time when I got rid of a company, we cleaned out the locker and found a bag of condoms and empty alcohol bottles.

The cost has ranged from about Rs. 16,000 to Rs. 26,000 a month.  That’s a huge part of our budget.

This is really sickening, isn’t it!

We had a guard about a year ago we really liked.  All of us liked him.  Then we found out he was giving his mobile phone to the girls and trying to set them up with local boys.

Oh yes, and then there was the massi who was stealing money from me and passing it through the window to the guard…. and riding home with him on his bicycle.

Remember, these are only the stories I know……

Where do I go from here?  I guess I go the same place, the same route, because it is the only one here….  This is Kolkata.  Nothing works.  It’s not intended to work.  I’m angry.  I’m angry enough to tell him just to leave, to fire them now, to just live without a guard.  We would be safe for the night, but the criminals would come over the fence and steal everything that was not chained down.

Another guard story.  Saraswati Puja is celebrated in late Jan or early February.  Two years ago we bought a woven cane pandal to put up, and to decorate.  The statue of Saraswati was inside. (No, that wasn’t stolen.)   After the holiday I wanted to put it in the garden as a play house for as long as it survived the weather.  It was about 6’x6’x6′, perfect for the kids.  A couple of days after the Puja, I suddenly noticed it wasn’t there, in the front and it wasn’t in the garden.  It was GONE.  What is amazing is that neither of our guards had any idea where it had gone! Six by six by six had just absconded.  The next day I heard from someone, I can’t remember who, that a neighbor had it.  So I went to the neighbor with one of our teachers to translate.  We were a funny sight.  Only the woman was home in their tiny rented quarters.  “Yes, my husband brought it here.”  I didn’t see it though and she pointed to the ceiling as the panels had been taken apart and put up for insulation.  I smiled and thanked her and said no, there was no problem.  I just didn’t know where it was.  So then the guards who had no idea where it had gone said they thought I was throwing it out so they gave it away, and so on.

This is boring, to write, and to read, but it’s the stuff of what drains my time and my energy.   I feel incredibly alone with this.

The Pandal That Absconded 2011

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries

August 2026
S M T W T F S
 1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031