When an air-ambulance team went the extra mile!

Some stories are hard! Painful! The pain of the oppressed and the anger against the systemic flaws overshadows the heroism of the protagonist. 

More so, if it is not a story but reality. Life in blood and sweat and not what you watch in theatres for three hours, wipe your back, and walk out of. 

I heard one such story yesterday, rather a real-life incident, and it has been haunting me ever since. 

'V' is 15, and wants to pass himself off as a 17-year-old. Which 15-year-old doesn't? He even rode a motorcycle against the law of the land and crashed it. Survived the crash with major fractures. Sadly, his part of the world doesn't have good quality medical service. An air ambulance was called in. Perhaps he would have collapsed if there was no air ambulance service and they had to wheel him on the roads to the hospital which most of the time is at least a good five-hour drive away. 

'V' is not rich enough to afford air ambulances. Thankfully some good souls of the world subsidize air ambulances for people who could not afford them. 

Well, the story starts only now! 

The air ambulance team makes sure 'V' reaches the hospital on time and gets him admitted. 

A few days later, the air ambulance team again decides to visit 'V' in the hospital. After searching the hospital they found 'V' in a different ward, frail, more confused with the same filthy bandage, and possibly even more malnourished. The team asked the inevitable question "Why isn't he operated on yet?"; The answer came, "The doctor will only operate if there are 6 units of blood; we do not know what to do!". 

That answer hit me hard! What are doctors and nurses for, if they could not help a patient understand and get units of blood? Aren't there humble enough human beings in that hospital to ask and clarify simple questions and doubts of patients? Ah, the apathy of the learned! Wasn't education supposed to enrich lives with empathy and compassion or at least interest and enthusiasm? 

I told you, systemic flaws make us go mad! don't they? 

So the story continues...

The boy had to be operated on after the air ambulance team worked on arranging blood! Once operated on and settled down, by the time the team could visit again, 'V' was discharged, without leg support, with no assistance and an open wound. He would end up going back to his village and with no proper help in the village, the wound became worse and septic. 

By the time the air ambulance team decided to do a home visit, the legs had only enough strength to be saved from amputation. Another emergency admission and another long time in the hospital meant the legs got saved finally. 

Well, of course, the air ambulance team is a superhero. They could just have dropped the patient in the emergency and be gone doing their own lives. Their constant follow-up ensued the life, or at the least, the legs of a young 15-year-old got saved. Well, we perhaps need to celebrate real-life superheroes! 

But the story for me is about the apathy of the systems! the indifference of the upper class to the world around them. The detachment from reality. The languor of the privileged. The arrogance of the learned. 

If only the superheroes in the air ambulance team could be everywhere! If only, I could put my ears to the ground and listen to the heartbeat of reality? If only the privileged like me have enough empathy? If only I could take that extra step, just like that air ambulance team. If only! 

When the boy was dropped back home by the air ambulance team!

In dad's shoes!

Every time when someone says 'K' looks exactly like you my heart misses a beat. I gulp! That strange feeling of not wanting your child to be like you. Memories of your life run through the mind. You remember the timid, average, noisy, clumsy, rebellious, and lazy individual you were at various stages of life. Of course, you don't want your child to be that, right? 

Then you wish there will be that gene from the wifey, which perhaps might make him a different human being. Perhaps he will go on to become a successful, clear-headed, and loving human being like his grandmom. Surely there will be some remnant of her passed on right? I pacify the troubled heart.

Suddenly yesterday I saw 'K' doing something with his wrists. Almost like throwing a ball from the back of your hand. The wifey had a wry smile. "He is imitating you", she said; "You do that bowling action no, he is doing the same"! Well, apparently they even imitate your actions. Can't I now sit on my sofa with my legs on it? Can't I just be myself? Ah, the complicated world of parenting!

'K' today decided to play with my flip-flops. He had both of them on and tried walking. They were huge. It almost felt like his legs were an afterthought. The wifey made a sarcastic comment, "In Appa's shoes". There went the heart again. It missed yet another beat! I gulped again. I know it was just an analogy and he wasn't following exactly my path. Yet, the phrase had so much meaning. Ain't it? How will 'K's life be if he follows the same path? The one less trodden, filled with failures and insecurities all along. Of course, it had been one heck of a ride. Is it okay to warrant the same roller coaster for your child? Or should I wish a smooth, seamless life for him?  

The questions that throng my mind every day, I tell you.

For the longest time, my dad was my hero. The ultimate rockstar. When he drove the bullet, I awed at him. I proudly told the world that he is a doctor. At least till the teens, he remained the hero. Mom became a hero later on in life and remained so till the end. Did they know that I was following in their footsteps? Did they panic? Did their hearts flutter too? Or were they sure when they let their hands off me, that I might end up following them? Were they okay if I did follow them? Or didn't? 

Through all the loud white noise of the mind, in the innermost hearts, I know there is no running away from it. For now, there is a human, albeit a miniature version, a human nevertheless, who thinks it is fun to be in his dad's shoes. 

I better be careful! 

Surely following his dad! 

Perhaps his mom too! 

                                                                                                 The scary thought of following in the father's footsteps

Disappointment with God

 

I had just had a huge failure in life. The future looked bleak. I was confused. The phone call rang at that time. I remember the call like it was yesterday. It was my mom. It didn’t start with the usual “Sam di chellam” excitement. It started off with “Sam ma” and then she stopped. Her voice quivered. She stuttered. I’m diagnosed with cancer. Final stages. She said these words and cried. I was in faraway land. I was still a student then. The next few hours were hazy. I don’t remember any of them. Just have vague memories of a friend putting me to the airport and the long flight back home with tears rolling by. I remember the neighbour on the flight asking me whether I need help. There, on that long flight journey, started my inner struggle with God and disappointments with Him. 

God is not fair at all. Here is my mother, the greatest human being I have seen, my pillar of strength, my best friend, one of the best doctors this part of the world has seen, adored & loved by everyone around, having to go through this. I mean, people throng to see her to get healed. I have heard people say they come to see her smile. How many more could she have cured? If only God had been fair
The struggle within the heart of the young adult then was intense and the pain was real. 

As days went by, and with every passing day for the next ten months, I fought with God. He was not fair after all. I tried to reason out with him. ‘Perhaps He didn’t think through it well.’‘My mom would be a blessing to many more if God would heal her.’
Simple logic, ain’t it? But why didn’t God get it? I asked the question many times. The questions my heart had then had no answers. Life had no answers. 

In your early twenties, you are taught to be strong. To show the world outside that you are strong. Also, me being the elder in the family, warranted me to be strong. At least I thought so. I was to guide my younger brother, traumatized father and troubled mother through this phase, I told myself. I was broken inside, often fighting back tears, fighting depression and fighting God but on the outside, I showed myself to be strong. 

Did God fail me? 

Of course, He failed me! Those ten months He failed me every day. I clearly remember one day at the hospital; a fine woman of God came to pray for amma. She said, “Not a hair on your head will fall”, as a promise. I clutched onto it. In fact, I hung onto every small positive verse in the Bible and thought that was God trying to tell me something. Very soon chemotherapy started and not a single strand of hair on my mother’s head stood at the end of it all. In that sense, God failed me. He failed me big time! He failed me every time. 

As I look back now, nine years later, here are a few lessons I learnt through it all. 

 

1) God fails people: I’m sorry, I’m not going to sugar coat and say God never fails. He fails people, often. It’s not God’s job to make all our wishes come true; He’s not our personal genie or fairy godmother. God doesn’t work the way we expect. We can’t make plans for God and expect him to follow us. He is not, in the words of C. S. Lewis, a tame lion. God doesn’t always work the way we expect. Elijah expected God to be earthquake, wind, and fire. He expected God to turn the people back to HIm instantaneously. But God didn’t work the way Elijah thought HE would. God can also work through a whisper; He can (and does) use other things to bring people back to Him. From my perspective, I am pretty sure that my mom would have been a blessing to many more if only she had lived longer. He fails, because our understanding of God’s success and His understanding of the world are sometimes opposite. Does God mean good for me? He does, but His definition of what good means for His people is vastly different from what I define as good for me. Every time when God fail me now, after the struggle within through that year, I tell myself, perhaps there is something good which God sees through it. What is that good which God saw through my mom’s sickness? I don’t know. I don’t see. But He sees it, and that is the most important thing.

 

2) Master is always right: On the day my mom passed away, in the funeral service, my dad made a statement, which has stayed with me. “Master is always right”. He means good for me. In His sight it is good, even if I don’t see it. But the most important thing is, the master is always right. He decides what He wants to do with my life. I’m but to follow whatever he wants me to do with my life. 

 

3) Time heals: Does time heal? I have often asked myself this question. There have been days when I have missed amma, days when without amma life is very unpleasant, and I have wondered what a joy it would have been for her to be around; but to be really honest, those days are becoming fewer and fewer. As time goes by, the hurt has gone off. I do miss Mom. I still think my life would have been so much better if she had been there but time has healed me. We have all learnt to live without her and God has helped us to overcome the trauma of it all slowly but surely. 

 

 

4) Where else do I turn to? As frivolous as this may sound, every time when life has been very difficult, I have only turned to God, for the simple reason that I don’t have anywhere else to turn to. To cling on to the hope that God means good for me and only God can mean good for me through everything in life is the single biggest lesson I have learnt through it all. I cling onto God, for there is nowhere else to go to. 

 

I often think, if God conducts a wrestling match and wants to select people, I will be among the top choice, for I fight with God often. I lose hope and faith every other day. Failures have thronged my life and many times I have declared God dead in me. It has been many years of the fight, and I suppose it is going to be many more years of it. God has failed me, will fail me but I go back to him, coz where else will I go, if not to His Love that has meant good for me in His own world and in His time.

When we commit our way to the Lord, we can be sure that even through life’s disappointments, God is big enough and good enough to get us on the best path, even if it’s not quite what we hoped for.

How did it feel to be 20?

‘Sam Chithapa’ my nephew repeated the word for the umpteenth time. He was showing me around his university campus. I was following him, catching my breath often, trying to be his cool uncle, walking around his fancy university, and talking about stuff that I thought he would like. Oh, yes! The nephew is already 20. I feel old. 

What does it mean to be 20? oh, what a joyful time 20 is! My mind took me down memory lane.

I had joined college. Engineering college, which I hated with all my heart. I could have so easily been a doctor I suppose, but God had different plans. Anyways, looking back, life ain’t that bad then! How can life at 20 be bad? I mean, responsibilities are minimal and so life had to be fun right? Less responsibility, less worry.

I was very sure of myself then! So cocky sure. I knew the world was not run well. If only they had given me the chance to run it; Everywhere I go, I had a view of the world around me and its people. The college principal didn’t know a thing. The Head of the department, he is a moron. My mom was too naive, dad too erratic, Christianity is dying, or waiting for me to save it, Manmohan Singh the then prime minister doesn’t have a clue about running a country, and well the world was in fact waiting for my wisdom. I judged everyone and had an opinion on everything. Have I changed now? With all the grey hairs, I hope I'm no longer that anymore. The wifey will know better. 

As much as I thought knew the world, my tentacles often looked interested in newer things, perhaps looking for newer problems to solve. I remember the first time the caste system and reservation were discussed, it felt like the third eye was opened. I first read about LED lights and went awwww. When Steve Jobs announced the iPhone, oh what joy and thrill to read about it. It was joy undiminished to know the best friend is flying abroad and to learn newer things about that elusive ‘abroad'. I wish I get back that inquisitiveness. The joy of learning newer things. The tired and sad me now often gasps at newer things. How I wish I’m 20 again

The world out there always sounded green and blue. London and New York and Perth and Canberra were distant dreams, waiting only to be conquered. The serene, green IT industry was beckoning me. Very soon I will have lots of money, a beautiful house, fancy cars, and a dream job. I will be writing programs o save the world from disaster. There will not be any hunger and poverty. The naivety of the young adult world.  I can die to go back to that world of colors, rather than the somber, complaining, sad, and poverty-ridden world mine is now. 

There were days during college when the then best friend and I could pull off an all-nighter (Talked through the night), go to a full day of college, play a game in the evening, and still have energy for the next day. Now, the backache is a reality. One night of sleepless travel and the next morning life makes sure you remember the bed. If only I can go back to that body of my youth!

Does one fear anything at 20? I remember the time when I decided to climb down a mountain with a rope tied to the waist and a huge waterfall falling over. Phew, just thinking of that makes me faint now. Yesterday a friend helped me do something far less scary and oh, the nervousness of it all. 

If allowed to go back in life, I will go back to my 20 and live it all over again! Perhaps in a different college :) But in the same daring, cocky sure, dreamy, optimistic, and busy individual I was then. 

I look at my nephew now and wish he can remain the same! But can someone defeat father time? 

What does it mean to be in a PNG village?

It was a chance meeting. He had come to this small town in PNG for a week's health workers training and is ready to carry back his knowledge and some drugs, back to his small village. I was supposed to have landed in his village to listen to stories, but due to heavy cloud cover, we could not and instead landed in the nearest airstrip a few miles away from the village. 

"Can I ask you a few questions, sir", I asked him. I was intent on listening to him. "Of course, yes," he said. We both sat cross-legged on the runway. Yes, in the middle of the runway. We were both waiting for a plane to take us. Yes, you wait on the side of the runway and do not have fancy terminals to protect you from the sun. This is a different world. 

The sun was beating down and 'S' found it difficult to face the sun. My Indian skin is used to more violence from the sun I suppose. I sat down facing the sun. We started talking. 

'S' is a health worker. He lives in a very remote village in PNG and worked there as a health worker. He had come to a neighboring town for some professional training and to collect vaccines and immunization drugs. Being the only trained health worker in his community (around 7 villages, each with a population of 200-300 people) his role entails administering vaccines and referring patients who cannot be treated by him. 

I was there on a mission to listen to stories! I sat straight. He sat straight. we started talking. 

"The nearest city to our village is a seven-day walk", he said. Our work is to collect coffee and sometimes betel nuts and sell them in the nearest market, of course, the nearest market is in that city seven days' walk away. Most of that distance is dense forest, and you have to cross mountains too. He paused! Perhaps he realized I was a little lost. I was just trying to understand what it means to walk for seven days. 

Ha, isn't life difficult, I asked him? He just smiled. I think by now he understood even comprehending his life is very difficult for me. 

"But our lives have changed after MAF came in", he completed. 

Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF) is a Faith based NGO flying small planes to the remotest corners of the world. So, these pilots, who have given their lives to the service of society, fly in small planes and land in complex, remote airstrips. 

"MAF means so much to us. We never knew the outside world till MAF flew in", he continued. But then, it is really costly for everyone in the community to afford even that small fee that is being collected by MAF. So the people who could not afford, put all the cargo(coffee) onto the plane, walk the seven days, and collect the goods back in the city. MAF has them stored in their place. Sell the products in the city, buy goods(rice and food and other store goods) for the household and the village, put them back on a MAF plane, and walk back the distance.  

There was nonchalance in his speech. I sat there in a state of shock. We both continued. 

So how do you book a flight? Is there a flight every week? How do you know the flight schedule? My mind was getting curious. 

Our airstrip is surrounded by seven villages. Two of them across a river. So, every day the village leaders walk about to the airstrip to meet the MAF agent and ask about the flight. So, how long will that walk be? I asked. "Short distance only, maybe one or two hours; crossing the river may sometimes be difficult", the nonchalant act continued. Cell phones hardly work in our village. The MAF agent talks to the MAF base on a radio. Different world this! 

 "Sometimes the flight tries to land, but due to the bad weather conditions, it could not land, as the clouds may cover the runway. In such cases, we wait longer; Till MAF comes in to help". He abruptly stopped. Perhaps he realized it was becoming a little too heavy for me to take it in. 

The sun was beating down on my face. I started to imagine what will life mean to me had I been born in that village? I'm sure he would have seen the reflected glint from the small teardrop peeping out of my eye. My privileges! My blessings! I'm grateful! 

Suddenly we heard the sound of the plane. It was coming down to pick us up. The plan was to pick us up, go to his village, drop him and then go to the base where I lived. The pilot got down and said, "Sam, we can't go to the village where 'S' lived today, the cloud cover is intense and quite low"; 

I turned to look at him. That smile was no longer there. His wait to go back to his village continued. To see his wife. Administer vaccines and drugs to his people. Perhaps a week more or even two. Till MAF could take him back.  If MAF is not there, he had to walk. For a few days perhaps. But he preferred to wait, for walking through the jungles could sometimes be dangerous. 

As I hugged him goodbye, I could see the despair on his face. I boarded the flight and flew away. To my world of abundance. 

'S' with the vaccines & Drugs for his village

Some store goods ready to be carried to the village

Getting ready for take-off

The run-way where we had our conversation

The walking path

Sometimes through a mountain

                                            

Sometimes through dense forests

Can you see the runway?

Flying past the mountains, to the world of the needy!

 "Kaakurus"," Kaakurus", yelled the pilot from the flight looking out of his window. I looked around as the children standing near me started to run behind the cocks standing on the runway. Yes, you read it right, there were cocks running on the runway. 

Children running behind the kaakurus

Well, if you have seen the video, you are wondering where is the runway! Well, the green grass is what it is. An airstrip in a remote village called Sendeni, Papua New Guinea(PNG). 

"Can you see the smoke from afar", the pilot told me. I turned left to look into the mountains. We were flying 10000 feet above and the earth looked like a green blanket. "Yes, I can see some smoke", I replied. "Yea, there it is, the airstrip, that is where we are landing" the pilot told me. 

The pilot looking for the runway

Can you see the smoke & the runway?

The pilot is on a mission, to reach the unreached. With rice bags and household goods and with teachers and doctors and health care and education materials to those who are not as privileged. Every other week he flies into this village. Every other day into multiple villages. Difficult terrain, bad climate, rains, and hills do not stop him from flying in. On those days when extreme fog indeed stops him, he tries again tomorrow. Till he reaches them. The poor and the underprivileged. 

The village hadn't seen electricity! 7 villages surrounding this airstrip hadn't. They know no roads either. They can walk through the forest for days to reach the nearest town. Rains do come often here and then walking is difficult as well. 

They showed me the school. But for the children playing rugby, I would not have identified the school. For there were a few huts and nothing else. They were the classrooms apparently. I even saw a small boy cooking and it was heartbreaking. 

The school

Children playing Rugby

The home in a village

The pilot loads in a few cargoes and a few men got into the flight. It is a small 9-seater aircraft and had a few seats removed to accommodate more cargo as the villagers sell coffee in this part of the world, and the ground coffee powder had to be taken back to the towns to bring in some money. 

The kaakurus were cleared and the pilot took off again, through the bumpy runway, and off he went. He took a steep right turn to avoid the mighty mountains standing right in front of the runway and flew away.

 

Can you see the bird flying past the mountains?

As he left me, I stood there looking at the mountains, thinking about the pilot. What if he had decided to take life easy, rather than fly into this god-forsaken place? 

Perhaps, he is flying here, coz God indeed remembered the place! and someone decided 

Measuring life!

"There was a private jet waiting for me, as I finished my lunch; Does it mean I have finally arrived in life?" I was just joking in the family group about my work trip. "It means you have arrived in the place you are meant to go and nothing else, don't talk too much, berated my dad". I apologized. I was just playing anyways. 

As I lay down last night after the grueling 24-hour journey, tired as I was, the thought never went away! What does it mean to arrive in life? How do we measure life? 

Are success and failures good enough indicators to measure life? In that case, what defines success and failure? 

Is money a good indicator of a successful life? or of life itself? But, money is a privilege, is a blessing, isn't it? not everyone is accorded the privilege. The more I travel, the more I'm convinced that money can never be an indicator of success in life. 

Last week I was in Singapore! The modern-day epitome of wealth and success. Clean roads. Swanky malls. Fancy cars galore. From there I entered the country I'm now in. You can see poverty and hopelessness on the faces of people here. Does it mean they have failed lives here and Singaporeans have done life right? No, there is so much left to chance if we measure life like that. 

Then can life be measured based on the influence one has on society? Like, if I'm a doctor and I save lives, can I be called successful? Then, does it mean, people who work hard in the fields fending for themselves and their children alone haven't had a life? 

Can life's meaning be measured by the amount of travel one has made?  If I travel to ten countries every year, can I be called successful? 

Leaving aside all these, can life be measured based on happiness? The happiest having done life right. 

Ah, the complexities of it all! 

Last week, a few friends met together after 20 years. As dreamy-eyed young boys and girls, we parted ways. Life took each of us in its own way. Not one of us followed the same path as the other. Each of us lived our own lives. The way we were taught to/provided to live. 

So why do I have to measure life in the first place? 

I live mine, and you live yours. I respect yours, and you respect mine! 

One year of fatherhood

I was flying way above the African continent, sitting right next to the pilot asking him all sorts of questions. We are doing Monrovia to Harper on a small 9-seater aircraft in western Africa and the Swiss pilot was incredibly kind in answering everything with aplomb. 

"Sir, what was the most difficult flight you have ever done"? I asked him. Remember, the man flies in the remotest of jungles getting off and on amidst rough and difficult terrains. 

"I have three children and helping them soar above the clouds of life has been the most challenging flight of my life", came the reply. 

I smiled, for I knew then that I had just embarked on that journey of parenthood. Suddenly today, it is already a year since. Phew, the time has just flown by. 

'K', has been the cause of Joy, despair, love, anger, insecurity, happiness, tiredness and every other human emotion possible in the last year. As someone who prides himself in not letting emotions overcome me, the year has been one heck of a ride. Yet, it has only just started. 

Early today morning as I was fighting jet lag and sleep deprivation and lying down in faraway land, my dad called me and woke me up to check on me. I was angry. Whoever calls anyone so early, I berated him. Then it just hit me; It is part of his parenting journey, how much ever long it has been, to have that call, to hear that voice of his son. It doesn't bother him that the son he taught to talk, talks back ever so loudly. He just wants to listen to the voice. Ah, parenting, what can it do to you? 

I don't know how long my journey with K is going to be! Perhaps it is going to be a rough ride. I'm sure there will be anger and insecurity. Surely times of absolute despair. Yet, I absolutely look forward to it. Just like my dad looks forward to hearing my angry voice every day early in the morning. 

For through all the bumps on the road, this has been the most satisfying and happiest journey I have ever done. 

Year 2, here I come! 

First Birthday celebration

What a joy he is! 

Sad face coz appa scolded him

His search for life

The footballer

His love for the ball

Like father like son

20 years since the day that broke my heart!

Time flies! Yet memories linger on, like the afterglow of the sun lingering on the horizon. I can recall the day like it just happened yesterday. I can feel the pain as I write this. Phew, time hardly heals heartbreaks. 

I can understand if you thought I had had a failed affair. Yes, you are right. My first love, broke my heart this day, 20 years ago. 

Indian cricket team played Australia in the world cup final in Johannesburg. Of course, the Indian cricket team was my first love. As a passionate young man then, still in his teens, and playing district-level cricket tournaments, still harboring a dream of one day playing for India, cricket was all I dreamt. A World cup final win was all I wanted. Watching India beat Australia was all I lived for. 

When the world cup started, I was writing my class XII exams. Class XII examinations! The so-called most important phase of life. Yet, world cup cricket was all I cared for. 20 years since I don't remember one word of what I studied then. But remember everything about the cricket match on that day. I told you, I was in love with cricket. Whoever forgets love? 

India had a pretty good team. We had only been beaten once before we entered the finals. Once, but that by the invincible Aussies. But hope is a beautiful thing. We hoped that the finals will be different and we can beat the Invincibles. 

It was a hot day. My Indian parents had taken the TV off my radar; I was writing class XII exams you see. So I went to my uncle's house to watch the match. Listened intently to every word of what Mandira Bedi said in the pre-match session. Who forgets Mandira Bedi? Match started! First over. Zaheer Khan, one of India's greatest went on to bowl the worst first over in Indian history. I was still not panicking. When you are in love, the reality is hazy, I suppose. The writing was on the wall. Indian cricket team would not beat the Australian cricket team. Not that day. Not in a world cup final. 

The Aussie batsmen pummeled Indian bowlers. The captain scored a scintillating century. Then the Indian batsmen failed in the run chase. Every time a new Indian batsman walked in, the heart created a flutter. Perhaps this man will do it for us today, I told myself. Till the last man got out.

Then the long cycle back home. I cried the whole way back. As I entered home, my mom, the typical Indian mom started the tirade. "12th Exams ah vachikittu cricket paarthitu varaan paaru (You have exams, and you are watching cricket)". The penny dropped then! It hit me hard that the love of my life ditched me. I cried and cried and cried. My mom didn't know what has hit me. She perhaps didn't know my love then. 

Twenty years later, as I watched Australia defeat India yesterday, my mind took me back to those days. I don't cry anymore. Cricket is no longer the be-all and end-all of life. Not the first love for sure. 

Yet, there is a small portion of my heart that pained, even yesterday. Perhaps, first love can never go away. 

Truly, it is beautiful for a sport to be a teenager's, first love. Isn't it? 

Medical camp in a Eastern African village

 "We walk two days to sell the cows in the market; these days the cows are so skinny and tired that after two days of walking nobody is willing to purchase our cows", N said. You can see the pain in the eyes. Though the smile never left him. 

Drought in Eastern Africa is so severe that people living in remote places are managing to have only one meal a day. One MEAL! I tried doing it for a few days in the name of "Losing weight" and the headache was unbearable. There were children; most of those who looked 15 were carrying babies. 

I had just flown into a remote Tanzanian village with the govt health workers. If the phrase "in the middle of nowhere" has an address, that is the place. The place was dry and had absolutely nothing. We landed on a dusty dirt-filled airstrip. The pilot proudly said this is one of the best airstrips he has flown into.  As I got down from the tiny 6-seater aircraft I was a little surprised. I was imagining being taken to a village, but this place had absolutely nothing. Just plain barren land. A few minutes later people started to trickle in and slowly started assembling beneath one of the few trees. 

The six-seater dropped me off and went to pick up the health workers. Within a few minutes, four smartly dressed govt health workers from the nearest hospital 40 km away dropped in. Yes, you read it right! The nearest hospital is 40Kms far, or as 'N' put it, it is 40 km near. 

"So what do you do in case of emergencies, I asked". We walk to the hospital, said he. Walk? 40kms? yes, we do. It takes us 2 full days of walking. "But in case of emergency?", I asked again. "Yes sir, only in case of emergency we go to the hospital. For small illnesses, we cannot afford to walk the distance, lest we become sicker, he complained". I think it made sense for the sun was scorching hot. Even I, who has been born and brought up in the scorching hot plains of South India, felt the heat. In fact, my lips got burnt. Yet, the woman walked without chappals. They couldn't afford one. 

The smart health workers weighed the neonates. Checked on pregnant women. Issued vaccines to children. Even did a small house visit nearby. Before taking the flight back to their place. 

"Where did you learn such good English N", I asked him. Nobody else in that community could understand me. "Ah, I went to school in the city"; So what are you doing here, why can't you go and work in the city?  I was about to ask, when he replied, " I can't leave my people in this tragedy and be in a city". So I decided to be here and rear cattle instead. I had 21 cows a few years ago. I have 4 now. 17 of them died of hunger". My eyes were getting moist by now. Yet he smiled throughout the interview. 

A few hours away from that place, houses some of the greatest wildlife safaris in the world. Foreign passengers thronged the small airport. There were many small aircraft waiting to carry them all to the forests To get a glimpse of the grand spectacle of the jungle. I guess one day I will do it too.

With a questioning brain, a tired body, and an aching soul, I came back to my cushioned fancy bed and slept like a log. Tomorrow is another day at work; another day to complain about bumpy car drives, interrupted power supplies, and the absence of spice in the food. 

I just hope and pray, that in all the luxuries of the world and mundane complaints of my life, I don't forget to remember the pain and the suffering of the world. 

                            

In awesome ways I cannot see!

Once immediately after a church camp a friend and I was discussing our future. We were both in college then and the question about the future was imminent. We had just recently sung the song "In awesome ways, you cannot see, God will make a way" in the church camp. The discussion veered towards how in the future we will be led in awesome ways which we haven't imagined so far. Well, we had just come back from a church camp. The aftereffects of a camp take time to wither away, I suppose. We were still talking about God, you see! 

More than 20 years since that day, I look back and think of that statement again! I have done things that I hadn't dreamt in the wildest of dreams. Well, dreams show you things only that you know of. I'm living a life that I never even knew existed. Leave alone dreamt. 

One such dream happened today!

I boarded a small flight and flew around Uganda today! Yes, you heard me right. I flew in a 12-seater flight around an African country. Refueling twice. Landing in some of the remotest airfields in the world. 

A few of us boarded at a small airfield near the capital of Uganda. All of them are social workers who have dared their lives to serve the people around them. What am I even doing there?

We went to five different airfields in Uganda. Refueling twice. I met and spoke to some incredible human beings. 

Just to think my job entails this! What?? Why?? How?? I still pinch myself to check on the reality of it all. 

One of the airfields we landed had cows coming in between! COWS! Hundreds of them. We stopped our flight. Waited for them to cross. Started it again. In one airfield, children waited on the side of the runway, dancing to welcome one of the passengers. Different world for sure from mine. But isn't it incredible that such a world continues to exist in the same world as I exist? It is actually stupidly unbelievable that I never knew this world existed.  

"Sir, my eyes are failing. I need to be operated on, can you help me with this?", the chief of black cat security in one of the airbases asked me. I had tears. Didn't know how to answer. I promised him I will see what best I can do. The chief security officer of the airport in my city will have his eyes operated on the best of facilities. The best the world can offer. 

As I got into the last leg of the flight, one of my co-passenger from the US, who has worked a few weeks in South Sudan, asked, "Do you miss your son? I miss my children terribly, she said". My heart missed a beat! I took my phone and saw the picture of K. Ah, his smile! 

As much as I am thankful for providence to have opened my eyes to a world beyond me, I wish 'K' can learn to look at the world beyond him. 

Perhaps one day providence will show K the world in awesome ways he hadn't seen! 

                                                                                My flight

The runway we landed in Moyo (Bordering Uganda and south sudan)

The chief of blackcaps security of the airfield

    

    

                                                                        Airport - Adjumani

Can you see the cows crossing the runway? 

Children dancing to welcome a passenger