Shishur Sevay

It is always a struggle as to how much to reveal about the harsh realities of life here.  Tonight was another riot at our gate; the police responded eventually.  No, we are not safe here.  I don't know what the next steps will be.  I write at 1:45 am (now the 11th February) as I cannot even think about going to sleep.  The girls have just gotten to sleep.  Four of them started a new school today.  It was so exciting;  I'm so proud of them. 

We live in a "bad" neighborhood, which is different here from in the US.  It's a mixed neighborhood, with some wealthy people, middle class, and then what i'll call working poor, and criminal poor — or not so poor.  But this is just in our lane, our little area.  In the US, we think of cul de sac as the place for kids, quiet, off the road.  But in India no one wants to live away from the road because of safety.  Over the past four years, in many ways the area has become worse.  There is constant fighting and screaming outside at night.  Sometimes it quiets when i go out and plead for quiet so kids can sleep.

A store has been built right next to our house, just a little store that blasts loud music, and the people here who rent, all rent from the same person who owns the store.  This is all probably irrelevant.  I'm writing without much censoring. 

Tonight I actually thought someone was being killed… and went out to see festivities and asked that they just lower the volume.  Usually that is enough but tonight they got nasty, men and women, drunk and nasty and saying they wanted us out of here.  That was the gist.  The girls and I talked a little while ago.  They heard the following:

"We will kill her.  This is our community, and we don't want her here."

"You are all beggars and she is using you to make money and become rich."

"Send her back to America!"

I stood up to them, because I can't live as a frightened victim.  I took their pictures, which the police later told me was illegal.  Apparently I'm not allowed to take pictures of people on the street screaming at me, shaking my gate, saying they will kill me.  One man had reached through the gate to grab my camera, but just got the strap and a fight ensued (which I won — he did not get the camera) but apparently I am at fault.  I need to see a lawyer about that.  Of course, reaching through the gate might be illegal too, and might even be assault, but no one would pay attention to that.

What I did get to communicate to the police was the amount of money I used to pay this one man (the one who objected to picture) for protection as he had told the government inspector AND my Board that if I didn't give him the money he would make it unsafe for me to have children.  I paid, and kept paying for a while.  I told people I'd paid for the new clothes this man had worn last Puja.  Then we had trouble he would not help us with and I stopped paying protections.

There was a funny moment when this man kept yelling, "why did you take my picture?" and finally I said, "Because you are beautiful!" and everyone in the crowd cracked up… yeah it lightened the tension.

In the chaos I'm not even sure the picture came out as the camera wasn't working right…

Oh yes, remembering, they told the girls they wanted to buy one of the handicapped children.  The men here have wanted access to my girls from the first day.  This same man insisted he be allowed to enter any time he wanted and I refused.  There is a perception that because they girls are orphans, everyone else should have access to them.  I've had threats against my life.  A constant refrain is that I be sent back to America.  One night when there was a riot, the first one, and I was quite terrified, I had called the local councillor — really afraid — and he said, "Don't worry.  They won't hurt you.  They only want your money."  They really imagine I am making money here.  And tonight they told the girls when I first came I gave classes to the local children.  I did, and I loved it.  But in the time I wouldn't pay the extortion, the local thugs wouldn't let the neighborhood children come. Parents kept the children home.  The thugs punished me by not letting local kids come here for free classes. 

 My relationship with the girls is really strong.  People kept trying to get them to take me inside and I wouldn't leave our front area (inside the gate of course — my property) and the girls tried to explain I DID understand what they were saying.  I was just refusing to go inside.

The enventual arrival of the police was good as these people have more than once told me they control the police.  And other than being scolded for my "illegal" use of my camera, they were nice.  But along the way two very bad local men came into the house with them, acting as "negotiators" and the girls were upset later about that.  I said I had no control over the gate once the police were here.  They let them in.

I worry most about my children, my two daughters and son in law reading this.  It's always been, do I tell them or not — they prefer to be told or they worry more.  But it's also a way of saying publicly that we are not safe here, which makes it harder if not impossible, for me to turn around and say, "Oh it was nothing."

We have to move.  I am exhausted from current work, too much of which is not done… Where do we get the money?  Where do we move?  Do we try to stay close to here, but out of this enclave?  Can we ever live someplace where the girls are not called beggars?  If these were "my own" children, what would I do.  That makes it easy.  I'd move.  I might not even find a better place, but I would not have stayed where my daughters were called beggars and their mother threatened with being killed.  I also found the safest neighborhoods I could find when raising my kids.  This is a neighborhood filled with hateful people.  But I just answered my question.

I have been told of institutions where local men are allowed in at night to use girls.  That's how the places are allowed to exist.  We have to move.  I wouldn't have kept my two daughters here.  I can't keep my 12 daughters here.  I guess we will be moving, ASAP.

Shishur Sevay enjoys a wonderful relationship with the Birla Industrial and Technological Museum (BITM).  We happened to go there one day, loved it, and have been back several times since.  I don't know how to reference past posts but I posted about it on 7th November 2009. (If someone knows how to link, please let me know)

Our girls wanted to be able to share their experience with their school friends and so we also facilitated a school trip to the museum in November 2010.  

I'm on BITM's mailing list and I often get a phone call if there is an event going on.  It is a low key place, and unfortunately doesn't seem to make the "what to do with kids (or without kids) in Kolkata."  We have also been to a "sit and draw" competition there.

Last week I received an email about the Science and Engineering Fair.  Then I got a postcard; then I got a personal call.  Much of the science is at a higher level than that of our girls but the Science Fair seemed like it could be good.  The girls were enthusiastic. 

We arrived early which was fortunate as later there were long lines of people waiting to get onto the grounds.  This Fair represented the Eastern States of India.  My goals in taking the girls were to have them just SEE what a science fair is, what a PROJECT looks like, what is the job of the PRESENTER, and what were the IDEAS communicated.  I was less interested in the actual science, and whether it would be at their level.  I wanted them to know what this world of science projects and fairs looked like, so they could think about doing such things themselves… It's all about opportunities and dreams, but first you need some concrete information and experience in order to know what is possible.

Ganga is increasingly part of the social and educational life of the older girls.  But the wheelchair, her small one, keeps her too low to see many things, so this time we took her in the backpack.  One of the girls carried her for part, and then I did for the rest.  This way she was always at eye level.

The first exhibit we saw was in the Engineering Fair section and was about climate. 

The exhibit demonstrated the forces that caused Cyclone Alia.  The girls remember Alia because they donated most of their clothes to the victims, carried them out in big bags to a collection truck.  So now they saw Science linked to their experience.  When connections are made, the world becomes smaller and more accessible.

The next exhibit was about rain-water harvesting.  The girls were immediately interested.  We are putting a new room up on the roof, with a tin roof and gutters.  The girls immediately thought of doing water harvesting (a possibility that had been raised by the first architect).  We took pictures of how the pipes were placed. 

This young student told us about what happens when trees are cut down, the effects on wildlife.  Like all the presenters, girls and boys, he was very sincere and serious about his work.  This is also what I wanted to girls to see… smart kids talking about what they have studied and what they have done.

I didn't catch the whole thing, as I was busy trying to take pictures.  I was also fascinated by his very interesting owls.  But he had models of bats who lost their homes, and birls whose nests were destroyed.

The next exhibit was also quite understandable, a hand-made sprayer that cost Rs. 25 ($0.50).  He made it with bamboo, a plastic jug, and parts of pens. 

Here was a very innovative mouse trap!  Here was a confident sounding girl talking about the mouse trap she created.

We saw many other exhibits and then were tired, hot, and ready to go home, but not before a stop at the Canteen.

 
We left for home, in time for lunch.  The day before I had given the girls the option of a free afternoon when we got home, but they had asked that the regular teachers for Saturday come to work with them on a play rehearsal.  They are working on a play for Republic Day, just for us here, and they are including the four children with disabilities.  

Today Sunday, has been a more relaxed day.  Drawing Sir came in the morning.  Then for the rest of the day they played outside in the garden, watched TV, played Ludo and Carrom.   In the evening we had visitors.  There is an Indian tradition of celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, by giving to those less fortunate.    A family that was celebrating the birthday of one of their children asked to come.  The girls prepared a card for the birthday boy.  We love having visitors.  The girls introduce themselves and then I ask visitors to also talk about themselves, the kids talking about school. 

Then after prayers, Dance Sir came.  He has been with us since the beginning. Recently I came across a picture from one of his early classes here.  Initially I had started dance just as a way of teaching the girls about self discipline, and following directions.  They are now in their third year of Bharat Natyam Dance and Rabindra Dance.  They all placed in First Division in Dance and got distinction in Theory and Practical.

This was how they were almost four years ago:

Mother's Lament:  Where did the time go?  They grew too quickly!

Next thing I know, they will be entering projects in a Science Fair!

It has to have been more than ten years ago.  The words are still with me, "If you don't like your mother you can always go to the Mall for another one."  My daughter and I still "joke" about it.  I had taken her to a new doctor… don't remember why… and I'd chosen an Indian woman doctor, a "role model" as I tried to maintain diversity in all areas of our lives.  The visit seemed to have gone fine, and then, as we were leaving, almost at the door, she called out to Cici, "If you don't like your mother you can always go to the Mall for another one."

I tried to raise my kids with as few doctors as possible in their lives, breaking all the rules of taking care of your own kids when you are a doctor.  So some of this is just doctor insensitivity.  I have a story also with Heather, that I took her to a doctor friend for a check up, as she was entering puberty.  My friend the doctor said to her, in front of me, "you'd better lose weight or you won't have any friends in school."  As this was my friend I knew her lifelong struggle over weight.  (I wrote to Heather for permission to post this and she reminded me that we had gone out to Dunkin Donuts afterwards.)

Another time I took Cici, about age 7, as she woke up with a neck spasm that wouldn't go away and was causing severe pain.  After a while I carried her out to the pediatrician.  He scolded me for bringing her in for such a mild problem.  Gutsy girl, she asked him why he wasn't trying to help her.  By night she had a fever… and then recovered, no thanks to the doctor.  Of course doctors are always telling other doctors NOT to take care of their own family members.  I really hate scoldings.  I did then and I do now.

This isn't how I'd planned to write this post, seems off topic, but it isn't really, because it's about the influence of medical professionals, and others on our lives, and the lives of our kids.

Raising an adopted child is different because whatever our commitment, love, attachment, others will rarely see it as "equal" to our birth children.  I remember when traveling, and I'm a worry person as I've written before, I wondered, if anything happened abroad, would my adopted daughter be treated as an American abroad?  If she were kidnapped, would the American embassy kick in?  Would her Indian-ness lead to a response of, "not our problem?"  I remember an airplane hostage situation years ago — and I happened to know that an Indian adoptee was one of the hostages, and I wrote to Senator Hatch about her, reminding him she was American.

I am raising children in India for whom adoption was not possible (the un-chosen).  I am raising them in a model of adoption, in terms of my commitment to them.  This is a personal commitment separate from their legal status, and independent of where they are.  This is challenging, to say the least.  I am also clear at all times that I am not their mother, though they call me Mummy, as they all have/had mothers.  I am mother to them now.  Although the girls all come by government order, we do not get funds from the government.  Therefore we are free of many of the government regulations, like having to send them away after age 18.  I assume some will get jobs, some will marry… who knows?  For now, they are being educated so as to improve their options.   I had a social worker who I thought would be helpful with the girls, but when they complained about the studying she told them they could all leave at 18.  Well, legally that's true, but Gibi, Seema, and I quickly met with them and dispensed with that, as they were also terrified suddenly, where would they go.  We told them they weren't leaving until we gave them permission.  Yes, they are free, but so are any of our children. 

At the same time I am aware of adoption "disruptions" in the US, situations where children are adopted and then re-adopted, or put into state care.  "How would my children here have fared in adoption in the US?"  This is a question I ask myself often.  As they enter adolescence the question is even more important.  I used to see this in terms of adoptive parents "giving up," while at the same time understanding the toll that a disturbed child can take on others.

A new question comes to me now.  If other people see adoption as temporary, (You can find a new mother at the Mall) how does this affect the child?  What messages are they getting from others that counter what we try to tell our children?  Wishing for another mother, a kinder more gentler one, is not restricted to adoptees.  But the ability to get others engaged in this process, to "rescue" the child from what others see as a temporary relationship may add damage and confusion to a vulnerable child.

Does an adopted child ever feel totally secure?  I think it is possible to feel loved, totally loved, but still not feel secure, still experience one's self having a life separate from the "family."  Is this talked about?  There is so much pain. 

I wonder how many "disruptions" are because the children want a new family?  Has fantasy taken over? Or, are they also influenced by the possibility presented by others, or assumed by past experiences?  We (adoptive parents) say it's permanent, but our children have no reason to believe us.  If their own mothers didn't keep them, why should they ever trust anyone else to keep them?  It's one of the reasons I see group living as a good alternative for older orphans.  It's less intense.  The girls have each other, they can be more or less attached at different times. 

What is it like for me, mother hen to them all?  In my lifetime I've been a foster mother, a "giving birth and keeping my child mother", an adoptive mother, and now just "Mummy" to the girls here.  My love and commitment to the girls drive me to create the best lives and futures for them that I can.  But it also leaves me vulnerable, sometimes frightened, always aware that I parent under close, and often critical scrutiny.  There was a time in 2007-2008 when the government ordered four non-orphan girls to Shishur Sevay, without notifying us.  One day a mother just turned up with her child, for admission.  I said there was a mistake and she showed me the order.  The next day I went to the government offices.  I was told that if I did not take these four non-orphan girls, that the government would not renew our license and would remove all the children.  The official threatened charges against me for "discrimination against children with mothers."  It was a terrible time because I totally lacked the emotional and financial resources, or staff, to bring on four more children, with totally different needs, with mothers advocating for what they needed.  You see, in West Bengal, if you have political power you can get your child declared in need of government care.  These were to have been "political" admissions, common in many of the "orphanages" here.  These children had working mothers who wanted to place them in a better educational setting.  That's not what I came to India to do.  I couldn't stand seeing my uneducated orphan girls suddenly go to the bottom of the social order, the "orphans" among more educated children, with mothers advocating for them.

I managed to keep a brave front in the government offices that day, but I came home and sobbed.  I really do know my limits.  I simply couldn't do it. So for the next six months I slept near the door afraid the government would come for the children.  I sent a message to the government official that was basically, "over my dead body."  I tried never to be away for more than an hour or so.  It was the winter that Bubbi's calf was doing poorly.  I had people taking care of him, and vets, but I didn't go myself, as the trip was too far, it would have meant being gone all day.  I remember thinking that I had to put the children first.   He died that winter.  I did go then, for a very brief visit, at the urging of the children.  They wanted me to visit Bubbi because they knew she would be so sad.  We share everything in this family of sorts.

How is all of this related?  It is in the complexity of these relationships, of our relationships with children in our care, whether adopted or not.  I'm finding it hard to write what I really want to say, which is that one of my girls needed some help, and the doctor told her to go to the Mall to get another mother instead, one presumably would be able to provide more sports and games and would not force her to study. 

I'm a psychiatrist… one of the hats I've worn in my career, but I try to avoid most mental health services as much as I can.  I was in training in psychiatry when I became foster mother to a teen aged girl whose mother was in jail for a robbery committed by this girl.  So I dealt with all kinds of behavior, good and bad.  But mostly I felt humbled by the experience and the discrepancy between what I was being taught about parenting in my training, and the realities of mothering an adolescent. 

Orphans particularly are subject to being used by others for their emotional needs.  We had that a lot in the initial years here.  Various caretakers would embrace a child, offer to take her to her home, want her to call her "mummy" instead of me.  Then for one reason or another, they would leave, and the child would be devastated!  It happened with teachers, with the social worker… once they left they never came to visit the children they'd professed to love.  Eventually the girls understood enough of what I was saying to protect themselves.  And since I was imposing discipline, it had been easy to take a position of protecting the children from me.  Since these children were orphans, few people thought they would really learn, so they also saw my efforts as a waste of time.  It's easier to "protect" a child from being forced to study than to teach her to read.

One of my girls went looking for another mother who would not make her study so hard.  But I followed her.  I am her mother… just how it is.  My children carry so much pain in their hearts.

 
Our Christmas here is a secular one, and it is a lot of fun because the girls have no expectations.   It's just a chance to celebrate, and to take part in another part of Indian culture.  (As I write this afternoon, our dog Jelly has slipped into my office, head bowed because she is an outside dog.  I alerted the girls in the next room and they have invited her to snuggle under blankets with them.  I can see her tail wagging from here.)  She senses it is a special day and her presence IN the house won't be noticed for a while.

This morning we went to the park.  Shanti Devi had been feeding Ganga at six am and told her if she ate all her breakfast, then Shanti would take her to the park.  But Ganga doesn't forget.  She somehow got the girls to take her outside and then refused to come back in for her massage until promised that they would go to the park.  It was on my mind for today anyway, as I have a lot of help today.  Going to the park is not a simple matter.  In fact right now, there don't seem to be any "simple matters."

 
The park close to us used to be a good place for us to go when the girls were younger.  I've written before about the boys leering at the girls, saying things, making it "not pleasant" to go there.  Then, moving around with the disabled children gets harder as they get older.  Prior to this recent time, I didn't really have teachers who wanted to go to the park with them.  As a result, going to the park meant that they  just sat under a tree and watched the others.  The weather also makes it difficult.  In the summer it is only cool enough until about 8 am, but the children are in school from 6:30 am.  By the time they get home at 11 it is too hot.  In the evening the park is full of boys.  The few girls who are seen there are often wearing jewelry and make-up and tight minimalist clothing.  Yes, I admit to working hard to change the girls' self perception, manners, way of talking, all of it.  To honor your roots does not require that you stay mired in the style or habits of poverty.  Where you come from does not have to define what you look like or how you act.  My views, of course. 

I am under attack once again, this time for not having sufficient recreation and sports for the girls.  It's quite amazing the given the achievements of the girls, and our commitment to giving them a good life, that people don't understand that if I could do better, I would!  The parks are not safe here.  There is a lot of "interest" in them as orphan girls.  I've noted in several situations an attitude that because they are orphans, "everyone" had equal rights to them  — equal standing in deciding how they are to be raised.  In those situations it's even more disturbing to others that I am a white foreign lady making decisions about Indian orphan girls. Local men continue to complain that I don't let the girls "mingle."   Of course I don't!!!!

There are no sports programs for girls in our area, or anywhere I know of.  We no longer all fit in our car so car trips require at least one extra vehicle.  If we take the children with disabilities, it's yet another vehicle as we have to bring wheelchairs and attendants. That's another issue, taking the children with disabilities.  I think this must happen in every home with abled and dis-abled children.  How do you decide when everyone goes?  It takes more time; it means in the end we go less often; it's also hard to leave them behind when you know it's only because of the disabilities and they would love the experience.  And of course there is always the matter of study, of losing an afternoon, losing momentum, losing the effect of repitition.

There are days when we just relax, hang out, go for ice cream at South City Mall.  Actually that's one of my favorite places to take the girls.  It's safe, and it's fun.  To the girls, the escalator is easily equivalent to an amusement park ride.  The same is true of the elevator.  Free rides!  Bono really loves the elevator.  She squeals and kicks her feet.  They all love it, another free ride.  The food court is fairly enclosed, so I don't worry about anyone wandering off.  The girls love looking in windows.  We have shopped for books at Crossword's, similar but smaller than Borders or Barnes & Noble in the US.  These are familiar places to me.  The staff loves going there too.  It's relaxing, hanging out in the food court, eating ice cream.  I think we will go there tomorrow.  I've just talked myself into it.

Last night one of the local "leaders" was drunk and talking loudly and nastily about me to our guard.  It was along the lines of my keeping the girls inside and not letting them out to play. I've been hearing this a lot.  It was also about my not hiring locals (translate political appointments).  He was saying he wasn't afraid of police if I called them.  In the past this man has made big trouble, enough so I did have to call police.  The night staff were frightened by what he was saying, but they couldn't explain it to me.  I needed the girls to translate what the staff were trying to tell me.  Then I said, "Girls, watch this!  I'm going out to see him."  I cut a piece of the cake that Chris Futia had given us, and took it to him, my hands cupped, holding it as an "offering."  He melted.  He smiled, "Thank you Mummy."  Then the lady standing next to him asked about her piece.  She is the local person who wanted a job and when I didn't hire her she started throwing garbage over our wall.  She half likes us because we took Jelly, rescued her after she was hit by a car.  She feeds all the local dogs.  Well, she wanted cake too, so I yelled for the girls to cut another piece.  Then the man wanted some for his family, and the woman for hers.  I passed cake through the gate and made them very happy.  The man touched my feet.  I just kept thinking, "diffuse, diffuse, diffuse…"  The girls loved the experience and wanted to tell each person who came today.

I do actually hire local people but only if they have strong credentials.  I don't hire anyone I can't fire, so that rules out political appointments, and people who try to use threats to get a job.  I am very difficult to work for.  I have very high standards, especially for care of the children.  I pay well, but I don't work by local custom.  For instance I penalize staff for lateness.  I found teachers and massis coming later and later.  The kids weren't ready because the massis didn't get them ready on time.  Then the teachers came later and it got worse and worse.  So finally I made a penalty for lateness and it worked.

This morning I watched The boys play cricket in the park.  The park has two sections.  In the larger one, the big boys and young men were having a serious game.  In our section the younger ones were playing, learning, PREPARING for their lives across the fence.  We were on the side, on swings, having a good time, but this was not "sports."    I wish my mind wasn't going so much.  I wish I could have just enjoyed a sunny Christmas Day in the park.  I've written before that I do understand I will always face opposition to what I am doing.  I'm breaking the rules, educating the girls.  And that reminds me that I haven't blogged in a while.  Sometimes with confronted with what Shishur Sevay doesn't provide I want to ask the inquisitor, "And what have you done for orphans lately?"  I don't say that though.  I'm good, very good.  I save those words for afterwards when I go over and over what happened… like when I'm standing in the park…

In the realm of Academics, the girls did incredibly well in this exam cycle.  They now have choices in what school to attend.  They have tasted the excitement of achievement and it feels good.  In many ways the battle is over.  They are all on the side of doing well, trying their best.  The girls have choices, and that's what education is about, having choices in your life, whether to do this or that…..