the street kids of mysore...and UPDATE!

Our last day with the kids.

Sad Good-byes

Nanjunda and Loekesh in the restaurant, watching footage from the day before.

"Team"

Nanjunda, Erica and Sunitha

Pallavi needed to be held a lot. We witnessed her mother hitting her with a stick numerous times.
"Tracy of Operation Shanti handing out the morning snack"

This morning I received an email from "Operation Shanti" in Mysore, India. Below is an excerpt from that email as well as some photos and parts of a blog from a couple named Mark and Erica who are currently in Mysore helping the street children and filming as well as working with operation Shanti.

First the excerpts for the email....(the photos are in reverse order..)

hi tracy -i wanted to share something with you about our kids... first, a blog from some people who came to India to film street kids.

i then sent them the following message today after reading their entry on the5th of june, as we just admitted seven of the kids they talk about to the boarding school for poor kids in the area, joining two kids who are returning from last year. it's a bit long, but the contrast between their life on the street and, today, seeing them enter the dormitory, and having that chance fora new life, was just really something... i thought you'd just like to know about the kids (you may need to bring nine less pairs of shoes now that they are in shelter and school!!! or we can always find needy kids who need them...): End of Email.

Blog is below..

Every morning for a week we met up with Tracy outside the KR hospital near the Nandini milk stand, working with mothers and children who live on the street. The gathering would include baby wipes face washing, vitamins, basic first aid, a snack, and a lot of play. During the hour long session, we focused most of our energy on the younger children. I played my jaw harp and we danced in the street, gave an endless supply of piggy backs and swings in the air, each time I put one down another waiting. We played Ring-around-the-Rosey and sometimes Erica and I just held them, comforting them for as long as they needed. We communicated through the universal language of gesture. So much was said.

We witnessed a lot of abuse between some of the mothers and the children. The children’s lives are tragic, but despite it all, there is so much joy and laughter.

Leaving the smaller children each morning was difficult. Most of them wanted to follow us and join in with the big boys adventures. Tears flow easily.
We would spend the rest of the day with the older boys. We were their protection from street vendors, store owners and a large proportion of adults who look at them with disgust. The stray dogs in India often cower when approached, so used to the abuse they receive. I saw parallels with the boys, in terms of how society treated them. But there was no cowering among the boys. They are fiercely brave and courageous warriors. They always stood up for themselves, seemingly unafraid of the consequences. I suppose their survival depended on it. I saw them deal with drunk angry men and stand unflinchingly to the raised hands of vendors. Their cuts, bruises and burns are physical testaments to their strength. Their emotional scars can be seen in their eyes.

Layer after layer was shed, the more time we spent with them. They let their guards down and we became family. We smuggled them into the touristy parts of the city, showing them sights they could only otherwise see from a distance. I thought that living on the street brought a certain freedom, but because the children are viewed as vermin by most of society, there are invisible walls everywhere. With them as tour guides and us as protection, we broke a lot of walls down. It makes me laugh to think of us all piled in for a horse and carriage ride and traipsing through crowds of clean tourists and Indian families on holiday. Laughing all the way. We had ice cream and took memory cards full of photos. It felt like a family holiday, Erica and I with a small mob of the most beautiful children in the world.

We took Loekesh and Nanjunda to dinner at a middle class restaurant one evening. Although there were some smiling and understanding faces in the restaurant, the majority looked at us with disgust. A mix between, “how dare you bring them in here”, and, “are you crazy?”.

It is bringing tears to my eyes, as I think of the suffering in their lives. Manikanta, one of the youngest boys, has been in and out of his family since he can remember. When we met him, he was one week into making a final decision to leave, choosing the street over the torture at home. We learned that his mother rubs cayenne pepper in his eyes as a punishment.

So many of the stories are the same. Abusive and neglectful parents who push their children out onto the streets, or single mothers who raise their children on the same streets they were raised, or children who are treated as slaves at home and choose the streets as a sanctuary. Hardly a sanctuary though. Basic daily needs are a struggle. Food, shelter and clothing scraped together from their little “businesses” selling light pens and the charity of amazing organizations like Operation Shanti.

Saying goodbye broke my heart. They all asked for our phone number in Canada and as I passed it out, I began to cry, knowing they wouldn’t be able to call. My tears provoked the others and the toughest boys in Mysore began to sob. “Please, no solution”, I cried into Manikanta’s 10 year old ears. “Team, team, team”, I cried pointing in a circle around the group. They nodded with tears rolling down their cheeks. As we began to leave, we got bombarded with gifts. Spending what little money they had on key chains with their initials on it and “gold” necklaces with stickers instead of diamonds. “So you remember”, they said.

These are some of the children whom the shoes will be going to. I will be taking photos of them while I am there...so you will see who gets the shoes you send!

Now it looks like the shoe count is down to 25. If you have any shoes that your children have worn only a few times and you would like to give them...please see my older post for my address and the sizes that we need. I have only one pair so far, a pair for boys age 15 years old.

And...if by chance I receive any extra pairs we will give them to the street children as well!

Om Shanti~