Service Visit: Disabled Children's Home, Chennai, India

        The trip began with an invasive tour into the facilities for the displaced and disabled children of Chennai, India. A well versed and dressed woman led us throughout the old buildings and she seemed almost oblivious to our glances of horror. It was all so much to take in. What was most disturbing was the number of children who walked around with tops but no underwear, pants, or shoes. They also rolled around on the floors which were not clean and we feared the amount of diseases caught that way. Through the worn, old buildings we walked, peering into classrooms of rowdy, uncooperative and barely clothed students. Teachers often sat alone in the classrooms with a certain reservation while the children fought one another or strolled in and out. Another tendency was for them to scold, slap and drag the kids back in. They often paused, flashed us a smile and let the child go when any one of us was in sight. We were instructed to drop the toys and games we'd brought with us. We were then taken to look at the other facilities with the promise we would have the opportunity to come back and play with the children.
        We were led into the hospital ward. There was an minivan serving as the Ambulance and that was humbling to see.  Our guide simply blazed through each compartment without recognition of people waiting to be treated, or as we saw respect, for those in treatment. It was highly uncomfortable. She urged us to crowd around bed rests of sick patients who were suddenly swarmed with onlooking SASers. I decided against it and observed the instruments used to treat their illnesses. Many were old, rusty and the beds themselves were dirty. The walls were filthy as was the floor. I was further disturbed when we watched toddlers undergoing “physical therapy” scream in pain. We stood watching tears stream down these poor little kids faces while their arms and legs were bent in the most unnatural places. In spite of my limited knowledge of how physical therapy works, it didn't look the least bit accurate. The “nurses” looked really irritated with the children for “making them look bad” and some again, paused when we looked in. But the overall facility was not conducive to tending to the needs of anyone—not for adults, let alone children. Several of us walked out and had a moment. The discrepancy in medical and health care from that of the U.S. was huge. It was troubling and haunting to see it and many of us felt that we shouldn't have been exposed to things the way we had been. It was very invasive and showcased the lack of privacy and confidentiality of patients. At the same time, it revealed to us the true nature of how the hospital functioned and the types of treatment impoverished people experienced.
        We came back to the center for the Disabled Children with a sense of reverence and hoped to make a difference. We were put to work with miscellaneous tasks around the building. I was paired with someone and we cleaned, sanded and then painted a blackboard with black paint. There was a German student who was a sophomore in college completing a study abroad program working with the older boys and men who had the mental capacity of young children. It was refreshing to speak to someone who wasn't necessarily from the states but shared the same sentiment about the intensity of India. He was also relieved and confessed to having difficulty staying hopeful in his position because of the language barrier and the reality that most of the students are not prepared to be independent and live in the real world.
        We were then split into classes. All of the children had disabilities. Some were subtle, others obvious—all vary from the next. The teacher waved me over and was interested in drawing. She showed me a notebook full of her drawings and would give me a name of something she wanted me to draw. I am not an artist, but readily complied. It garnered the interest of a few kids. While they examined my finished product, I took in the kids in the classroom. Most looked uninterested in what we had brought. Some were receptive, some were not physically capable of participating in certain activities, some weren't mentally cognizant, some simply sat in the corner and did nothing. With such a range of responses in the classroom with the number of SASers assigned to the room, I couldn't imagine how much was taught by the teacher.
        A couple of classes had combined so that the children could listen and dance to one stereo with Indian music. It was a genius idea. We then brought our children down and it suddenly became a massive chaotic dance fest. Children were everywhere, arms flailing, screaming, dancing or simply fighting. It was a certain level of humor that came with observation. It was to balance out the easy accessible option of feeling overwhelmed. Later that evening, a small portion of the children also accompanied us to the ship for a tour, cookies, M&M's and ice-cream. It was a pleasure to have them but exhaustion was abundant when the trip finally and officially concluded.