We Will Remember You…

…It is with great sadness that I inform you of the death of one of our best students. Kishan Kumar was a delightful, diligent, and bright young boy. At only five years old, he wasn’t given many opportunities to succeed in life. I did not give him one either. Kishan was a strong contender for a seat in the Carmel Convent School. He even made my final round of selections. However, I left him behind in the slum this year because he was the youngest boy on my final list and I thought that I would have more time to acquire resources for him. As it turns out, I didn’t have much time at all.

Kishan was healthy and happy the entire time that I knew him. I was unaware that Kishan was sick until I received the call from Mithlesh early this morning informing me that Kishan had “expired.” Over recent days, Kishan had developed a severe case of pneumonia. Last night, he was finally taken to B.K. Hospital, the main government hospital in Faridabad where I volunteered for a month. Unable to properly care for him, the B.K. Hospital transferred him to the All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) in Delhi, nearly an hour-long ambulance ride away. After arriving at AIIMS, Kishan was pronounced dead only four hours later.

Ankit (left), whom we selected for the Carmel Convent School and is generously sponsored by Bert Graham, was one of Kishan’s best friends. Ankit and the entire slum are grieving his loss today.

–Kishan with his friends who are still waiting for a second chance–

We live in a society where education is taken for granted and where great healthcare is not just available but expected. Education can help improve our lives, but it could have saved Kishan’s. His parents cannot read or write. They aren’t even educated enough to know that they should have taken Kishan to the hospital sooner, let alone to one that could give him adequate care.

It is difficult for us to comprehend in this materialistic and luxurious bubble we live in that parents wouldn’t take their dying son to a hospital until the last minute, but they simply do not know any better. Even if they had the desire to learn what to do, these people could not read a book or operate a computer even if they had access to such items. They do not lack intelligence, they just lack knowledge and opportunity.

Kishan is survived by his parents, two brothers, and a community of hundreds of children who still might get a second chance. With less money than you can earn in a day, you can give an endearing child a second chance that he or she would otherwise never receive.

You can ignore these children just like the society around them. They will never know. But you can also take a stand and revolutionize their lives and the lives of their parents, siblings, future children, and entire lineage thereafter. For the price of an iPod or fancy pair of shoes, you might even save their lives. Donations made through Tuesday, May 15 will be accepted in memory of Kishan.

Once again, Kishan has taught me more about life than any other 5-year-old I know. I wonder where he would have gone and where he could have gone with our support. We will never know. I will always remember him and hope that you will too. Kishan, your family and friends are in our thoughts and prayers. Rest in peace.

Goodbye India…

…When I flew to India on the night of my 24th birthday, I flew out of my comfort zone. I flew toward 1.2 billion people without knowing a single one of them and toward a culture that mystified me. As the 747 climbed away from home and the lights of Phoenix disappeared behind, I remember looking out at the austere darkness and feeling very alone. When I landed in New Delhi the next night, I had no idea where I would go, what I would do, or whom I would meet. All I was told was to meet a man outside of customs who would be holding a sign with my name on it. The uncertainty was endless and anxiety stronger than I had ever felt.

Standing here tonight, five months later, I can hardly believe all that has happened since then. It just doesn’t seem possible even though I lived through it all. I came here to volunteer in hospitals and gain a more global awareness of medicine. I never planned on exploring slums, deciding which slum children would go to school and which ones would stay behind, or scouring entire communities for handicapped and disfigured people neglected by society. I never expected that I would be taken under the wings of Carmelite nuns, that my host family would treat me like their only son, or that I would feel like a relative to dozens of slum families among the lowest castes of Indian society. I never dreamed that I would bathe in the Ganges, ring in the New Year at the Taj Mahal, or be taken in a speeding ambulance to drink hot milk fresh from a buffalo.

I came to India because I wanted to make a difference and learn something that I could not from the comforts of home. I came with a positive attitude and a desire to expand my horizons. But I never imagined that I would be rewarded so magnificently by people from nearly every aspect of society.

This afternoon, I went to my final class with our spectacular students. Over the last three months, I have watched them go from a destiny of illiteracy and poverty to one of renowned educations and endless opportunities. Their lives have been changed forever and so has mine.

–Neha, our first student admitted to the Carmel Convent School–

–Komal, Gudiya, and Roshan, each of whom are excelling with nearly perfect marks–

–Ajeet, who when folded is conveniently the same size as my carry-on luggage–

–Anita, the girl who will turn around her family’s incredible misfortune–

–Akanksha–

–Pooja and Manisha–

–Kajal–

–Akshansh, Ajeet, and Sonu–

–Manisha and Akshansh–

–Our talented and devoted teachers, Deepa and Priya–

–Manisha, Anita, Neha, Gudiya, and Ankit–

–Madhu, Roshan, and Sonu–

We returned to the slum so that our students could change for my farewell party and I could say goodbye to the rest of the community.

–Manish and his mother, Dolly–

–Neha, Saraswati, Ankit, Sonu, Madhu, and me in Ankit’s home–

–Moni with her father, Dablu–

–Madhu, which means “honey” in Hindi–

–Gudiya waiting for Ajeet while he prepares his gift for me (in Ajeet’s home)–

–Ajeet in front of his old slum school–

–Rani, the widow who carries bricks to keep Anita, Sindu, Indu, and Surendar alive–

We then returned to the Carmel Convent School where the final farewell was to take place. As suggested by Crystal and Heather, I bought an entire ice cream trolley full of delicious treats for anyone who wanted one and rode around the community with the kids all yelling, “Ice cream wala!”

–The two youngest members of my host-family, Naima and Naysa–

–The ice cream cart made me especially popular–

–Sister Pushpa and the most touching family I have ever met–

–Manish’s cousin, Anisha, who can often be found taking care of the little tyke–

Then the presents started to come. Nearly every family in attendance brought me a gift. I thought I was going to need another bag just to get home with all of the packages.

–Rani–

–Ajeet–

–Prianka, who will have her biopsy on Wednesday–

–Manish, who will be admitted to the hospital next week for new medications–

–The sisters and my host family with our lovely neighbors. Ironically, Mamta and Meenakshe (our neighbor) had never met before Heather, Crystal, Natalie, and I asked to meet Meenakshe. Now, Mamta and she are best friends and the kids play together nearly every day–

I then handed out my own gifts. I gave each family my favorite pictures that I had taken of them as well as photos of my family and me in America.

We then started to say goodbye. All of the kids came up to give me a hug. Madhu started to cry and I could no longer hold back my own tears. These kids have taught me lessons that have transformed my own existence. Their optimism and zest for life despite the conditions in which they live have inspired me since the day I met them. I have seen them nearly every day for the past 100 days and have watched them grow and adapt beautifully to a way of life radically different and more demanding than what they were accustomed to five months ago. They have exceeded everyone’s expectations, including my own. These precious children have become my family, my friends, and my world. I cannot fathom ever working for anyone who will be as grateful or passionate about what they do as these children. I will leave them behind tomorrow, but they will never leave my mind.

This time last year, I was waiting tables in a restaurant. I had been rejected from 17 medical schools. I felt lost and unproductive. I decided to go out on a limb to a place where people needed me and where my limited resources and experience could still make a difference.

–A plaque on a cabinet door in the Carmel Convent School main office–

If I had not been rejected from my own dreams of attending medical school, these children may never have had dreams of their own. I certainly would not be here right now and would likely never have met these children, sisters, doctors, and families who have so drastically changed my life. Sometimes, even the biggest disapointments can be blessings in disguise.

I am signing off from India, but don’t worry. I have the last month to catch you up on and will do so from home. In the last five months, I’ve taken 13,320 photographs and compiled enough experiences to keep writing about for months. In case you forgot, we also have 20 stunning students to follow for the next 10-12 years as well as a half-dozen disfigured and handicapped children to watch through their medical treatments, growth, and eventual educations.

To all in India who have shown me unsurpassed hospitality, thank you for the experience of a lifetime. To my family and friends who await me at home, I can’t wait to see you and express what I could not from a distance. To those who have followed this blog and supported me throughout, I owe you a tremendous amount of posts, stories, thank yous, and photos that will be coming soon. I don’t know how I will ever convey the lessons and perspectives I have gained here but I look forward to trying.

Finally, I must reiterate my utmost gratitude to those of you who have donated to the Squalor to Scholar Program. Without you, none of this would have ever happened. The swiftness and generosity of your donations have revolutionized the lives of everyone present this evening in only a few short months. I am happy to report that all 20 of our Carmel Convent School students are now fully sponsored for the next year! Some have been sponsored and committed to for even longer. However, this does not mean that we do not need new donations. I know more than 500 talented and deserving slum children who I am leaving behind tonight without being able to help at all. Every rupee of your money has been and will continue to be spent with great care to ensure that it makes the greatest impact possible in their lives. Everything you have seen and read on this blog to this date has been accomplished with $6,000. Imagine what we could do with more! If you’re looking to make an immediate impact, Prianka and Moni will be having surgeries within the next four weeks. Prianka needs approximately $300 and Moni $150 to cover their medical and transportation expenses. When you make your donation, please specify if you would like your money to go to one of these special young girls. Thank you.

Message to Sponsors…

Dear Sponsors and Donors,

Over the past two weeks, we have been conducting Skype chats in the slum school, in the Carmel Convent School, and in our children’s homes to fulfill the commitment I made to you when you made your donations.

As I have told some of you, this is the first time any of these kids and families have ever used the internet. Most of them look like deer in the headlights as they try to fathom what is going on in front of them. However, they are loving the ability to see the special people sponsoring them around the world, from Beijing, China to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.

I have attempted to contact all of you by email but have not heard back from everyone. There are only six days left for me to provide you with the ability to Skype your student. This is the last call for any sponsors wishing to take advantage of this incredible opportunity.

If you haven’t already, please email me at squalortoscholar@gmail.com with the following information:
1. If you would still like to Skype with your student
2. Your mailing address
3. Your phone number
4. Your Skype username (if you have one)
5. A full-resolution photo of you (as an attachment)

I will then get back to you with instructions and availability for a Skype chat.

Thank you for your continued patience and support. I can’t wait to fill you in on what has been happening.

Yours gratefully,
John

P.S. Joy Walker, I’m sorry but I do not have your email address and have therefore been unable to contact you. Please email me at squalortoscholar@gmail.com when you have the chance. Thank you for your generous donation!

Race Against Time…

…I sincerely apologize that posts have been delayed recently. With only three weeks remaining in India, I am now in a race against time to ensure that our students have the best opportunities in place to maximize their success and arrange operations for as many deserving children as we can. Without giving away too much too soon, I want to give you a preview of some pictures and stories to expect in coming weeks.

After only eight weeks in school, our 18 students from the local slum are surpassing even my own optimistic expectations. In February, they could hardly write their ABC’s and had never attended a day of school in their lives. Today, they are reading with moderate fluency, writing with better cursive than my own, and showing potential to rapidly become some of the best students in their classes.

These children, their parents, and this entire slum community of 25,000 people are extraordinarily proud of our students and grateful for your continued donations and support. Without you, these students would have likely never set foot inside any school, not to mention the best private school in town.

What began as a small endeavor to help Manish find a cure for his disfiguring case of infantile hemangioma has now turned into a full-fledged medical support network. We no longer have to search for children to help. They are coming to us from as far away as Bihar, a state 600 miles away.

I have so many meaningful experiences to share with you now that I would hate to spoil them by rushing to get posts out the door. On behalf of our enthusiastic students, trusting patients, and dedicated volunteers, thank you for your patience and continued benevolent support. None of this would be possible without you.

A Special Goodbye Gift…

…When my fellow volunteer Crystal Graham arrived in India in February, I guarantee that she never dreamed of leaving like she did tonight. Her surprise farewell this evening was the most special I have ever been a part of. As revealed in previous posts, Crystal’s mother and sister have committed to supporting Anita and Ankit for their entire educations. The community here cherishes Crystal and her family’s generosity and this fact showed brilliantly tonight.

–Indu serving as Anita’s mother–

As we left class with all of the students at 5:00pm today, our children and their guardians escorted us to the slum. Underlining how the influence of our efforts has impacted these families is Anita’s sister Indu (age 12). Indu takes Anita to and from school nearly every day. While Anita studies, Indu goes to work by herself cleaning homes in nearby neighborhoods to make $22 per month. Anita and Indu’s mother, Rani, works incredibly hard but is still unable to support her five-person fatherless family by herself. As always, Indu was there today with a smile on her face, and without a hint of jealousy, to watch her sister obtain the most valuable gift their family will ever receive, a single seat at the Carmel Convent School.

We arrived in the slum thinking we were just going to play with the kids for a while and say goodbye. We were wrong. As we sat in the slum school, the kids and their families started to pour in.

Not knowing what was in store, Crystal hugged all of the mothers goodbye as some of them wiped tears from their eyes.

–Hugging Ankit’s mother, Rekha–

Ankit arrived looking better than ever. Thanks to Crystal and her family, his life has also been revolutionized over the past eight weeks.

In a move that even I did not anticipate, we were soon seated for a more formal ceremony. As a big shiny gift sat in the corner, everyone was given tasty bread pakora and refreshing soda.

Then, the party gathered around as I pointed out on a map and globe where Crystal would be flying over the next 24 hours. I pointed to Faridabad, India on one side of the globe and Guatemala City, Guatemala on almost the exact opposite side. I told them that when we go to bed tomorrow night, Crystal will be waking up there, on the other side of the planet. None of our children or their parents has ever been on or even around an airplane. For them, going such a distance is as unfathomable as going to Mars.

The power went out momentarily so we all went outside where we could see. All 18 students gathered for a photo and to present, in unison, their gift to Crystal.

All 18 kids reached out and up to get at least one hand on the gift as they passed it to Crystal. Although it doesn’t seem possible, I think these students love us as much as we love them. Mithlesh joked that Crystal’s gift, a giant laughing Buddha, wasn’t supposed to make her cry.

As Crystal broke into tears, our kids and families realized just how meaningful these experiences have been for us as well. We have given them knowledge but they have taught us lessons about life and happiness that we would likely never have learned without meeting them.

As dusk faded into night, 47 people walked us out of the slum. While talking with some of the kids, I found Madhu crying alone as we walked along. She is truly an angel. I ran her up to Crystal who was leading the parade. As we reached the busy road that divides the slum and our neighborhood, Crystal stopped to say her final farewell. To pay their respects and ask for blessings, the children ran up to Crystal, bowed to touch her feet, and touched their foreheads and chins. We crossed the street and walked into the distance as the crowd of nearly 50 students, mothers, fathers, and community members stood waving goodbye.

Ever since Crystal departed, our kids point to every plane in the sky and shout, “Crystal Didi!!” Best wishes in Guatemala, Crystal and in the remainder of your back-to-back circumnavigations of the globe. You have a new home here with dozens of people who will always welcome you with open arms if you ever feel lonely anywhere else. Safe travels from all of us here in Faridabad. Thanks for the memories.

Moni, Manish, and Chandni…

…On Sunday, two new highly motivated volunteers joined us. Merril Guzman of South Lake Tahoe, California, and Win Le of Vancouver, Canada, could not have arrived at a more inspiring time. Yesterday, they met our slum children as we accompanied them to school for the first time. Today, the three of us took Moni, Manish, and Chandni to the hospital to see the plastic surgeon.

When we arrived in the slum, all of our patients were waiting with their mothers and one grandmother. We walked a few hundred meters out of the slum to the nearby Delhi-Agra highway that serves as the main road through Faridabad.

Like crossing any streets here, there are no crosswalks, street lights, or stop signs. Even to cross the main road between a city of 18 million people and a city of 2 million people, the common procedure is just stick out your hand and signal traffic to stop while you start walking. This is partially the reason why it takes so long to drive anywhere in India. Even on the main highways, traffic is always stopping for pedestrians, animals, and slow vehicles to cross the road.

Once safely on the other side of the highway, we became the center of attention for passing traffic as we waited to flag down an auto-rickshaw going our direction.

There are two ways to take auto-rickshaws here. The most common way is to take a ‘shared’ auto. Starting at 7 rupees (14 cents) per adult for most distances within 5 km, you just hop in with up to 17 strangers going the same general direction. The other option is to hire a ‘separate’ auto. The cost for separate autos is essentially what it would cost to buy all 8 seats to go the same distance.

After a few tries and only about 60 seconds of waiting, we found a shared tuk-tuk going directly toward our destination. We jumped in with two families who must have wondered what in the world was going on with three foreigners and three disfigured children boarding their auto.

–Chandni with her mother, Reena–

–Manish with his mother, Dolly–

Down the road, we stopped at the gas station so the driver could fill up on diesel while Manish appeared to try some calculations.

–Moni with her grandmother, Pyaree–

After about 20 minutes and less than a dollar spent for the entire ride, we arrived at the hospital and waited to see the surgeon.

Manish was the first to see the doctor, who took dozens of photos and measurements of Manish’s hemangioma and called the pediatrician to let him know we were coming to see him too.

Before today, Moni had never been to a doctor. Cleft lips can usually be repaired as early as 3 months old and cleft palates as early as 6 months old. Now, she is 5 and is suffering socially and psychologically because nobody around her seemed to know that such surgeries were even possible. She wasn’t very happy about her first visit with the doctor. Little does she know how much a surgeon is soon going to change her life.

In government hospitals like B.K. Hospital where I volunteered for a month, cleft surgeries are free. However, we are treating these children as if they were our own. I want to get them the quality of care and service I think they deserve. Unfortunately, here at this hospital, the cost for a cleft lip surgery is Rs 45,000 ($900).

That’s when the doctor got on the phone. Thirty seconds later, we were scheduling an appointment with another doctor at a well-regarded hospital in Delhi who operates in partnership with the US-based charity Smile Train. We will visit him on Monday to schedule a surgery generously paid for by Smile Train.

The crying and waiting finally wore Moni out. She slept for most of her visit with the pediatrician.

Chandni, who is 6 months old, was next. We learned that she has a condition called hemifacial microsomia (HFM). HFM is the second most common facial birth defect after clefts, with an incidence of about 1 in 4,000 births. It is caused by lack of oxygenation or blood supply to cells that have already differentiated to become parts of the face during about the 4th week of gestation.

Nothing can be surgically treated yet for Chandni. If the surgeons operated now, they would risk exacerbating the problem by damaging growth centers. Chandni will have to wait until she is seven for her face to develop to an extent that surgery will be safe and maximally beneficial.

In the meantime, we will get Chandni a Brainstem Evoked Response Audiometry (BERA) test to ensure proper functionality of the inner ear as well as an ultrasound to check for renal and cardiac malformation (other defects occasionally seen in combination with HFM).

–Chandni’s underdeveloped ear is called a microtia–

To me, what is even more shocking than these deformities themselves is the fact that all of these children live within an area only slightly larger than a football field. It makes me wonder just how many children are out there just like them.

The Day of a Lifetime…

…Today was one of the most special days of my lifetime. It was meaningful, magnificent, and memorable on a level that I could not have even imagined six months ago. It was made possible by weeks of tireless effort and sacrifice of nearly a dozen people and by the compassionate generosity of donors from around the world. Words can no longer adequately convey the extent of my love for our students, my gratitude for your support, and my pride to be a part of the miracles that are occurring all around me.

Today was an event that I did not anticipate to see until this week. It was the first day of the new school year and our 18 students were the most glowing in attendance.

–Anita, Gudiya (left), and Neha (right)–

I had no trouble waking up before dawn today because it was one of the most significant days of our students’ lives. Forty-six days ago, none of this was even a dream. Most of these children were never going to spend a day of their lives in a classroom. Today, however, this new dream became a striking reality.

In only 46 days, the lives of this entire community have been changed. These 18 students do not inconspicuously head out to school or return quietly home. They are radiant symbols of hope to a society that desperately needs it. Their pristine red, white, and blue uniforms convey the power of knowledge to people who do not value the concept of school. They are discrete packets of a society hindered by discrimination and poverty that now socialize and study with children from opposite walks of life. Over the years, they will assimilate into the structure of higher levels of society but will unlikely ever lose sight of their roots. Although they go off to a school with the wealthy and privileged, they return home every day to the squalor and filth around them. These students, more than any others, have the ability to open eyes and instate change to radically improve the world in which we live.

–Komal and Gudiya–

Our children are already ambassadors of the poor and suffering. I never thought that first graders and kindergarteners could teach me this much about life, happiness, and success. But they have. The feelings of pride and fulfillment that I receive here every day may never be duplicated. No amount of money or fame could ever satisfy me like a day here in the slum watching our children cherish their new lives and ferociously devour the influx of knowledge we are delivering.

–Ajeet–

When we arrived in the slum at 6:11am, I was surprised to find that our students were already rinsed, dressed, and on the streets ready for their first day of school. Bright white shirts and red hair ribbons could be seen running around from hundreds of meters away.

You can’t wake up most 7 to 10-year-old kids at 5:30am (while it’s still dark), have them shower under cold water from an outdoor communal hand-pump, watch them dress themselves in uniforms that they washed by hand without your help, and be excited for school as if they were going to Disneyland. However, these are not most kids. They are more driven, more passionate, more enthusiastic, and more responsible than any children their age that I have ever seen. Their zest for life brings tears to my eyes. I was proud of them this morning as if they were my own little brothers and sisters. In fact, that is now exactly what they are. I am their big brother, their role model, their liaison, and their biggest fan.

–Neha and her mother Guyatri–

–Gudiya and Neha on February 9–

The picture above was taken only 46 days ago. It was the day that I accompanied Gudiya, Neha, and their parents Guyatri and Ramotar to the Carmel Convent School for the first time. It was the first day Sister Pushpa met any of our students. It was the spark that opened eyes and hearts around the world and right here in this community.

Forty-six days ago, Neha and Gudiya walked inside the Carmel Convent School barefoot, illiterate, and unaware of what lay ahead. Today, Neha and Gudiya walked into the Carmel Convent School with shoes on their feet, the ability to read entire passages in English, and with striking understanding of what a revolutionary opportunity this is for them.

In the slum, we walked around quickly to see as many kids getting ready as we could. I was stunned to find that each of them was either already dressed or just putting on the final touches of their uniforms. There was not a hint of grogginess or tardiness. In fact, much of the community also awoke to see our students departing for their first big day at the best school in town.

–Manisha with her parents Ramesh and Munni–

Smoke from a cow pie burning stove and a sense of excitement were billowing out of Manisha’s house as we arrived. As I poked my head in the door, Manisha and her parents jumped up with enormous pleasure that we had come to escort everyone to school.

Next, we caught up with Rani, who was just climbing down the ladder from her family’s small rooftop dwelling to head out for her big day.

–Rani leaving home for her first day of school–

We found Roshan riding to school on the back of his father Rajesh’s bicycle.

Some students went to school with their parents, others came with us, but everyone was walking (or in Roshan’s case, riding) on air.

Although they no longer need to walk to and from school in a line, the students want to. Everywhere they go, they become the center of attention and discussion. Even as we entered school for the first time, with intimidating older students all around, their confidence and pride were unwavering.

Our children face an uphill battle that would cripple the spirits of most children their age. But our students don’t back down from challenges, they demand more of them. They grasp wholeheartedly the grandeur of the opportunity that we have bestowed upon them. Even though they are struggling to understand most of what their teachers are saying, you won’t find any of them complaining about it.

While the students joined their new classes and friends, we used more of your donations to buy their 144 books that had just arrived at the bookstore as well as 18 of the strongest backpacks we could find.

On our drive back from the bookstore, I noticed an unfortunate woman moving an entire wall of bricks by putting each and every one on her head.

Then, I recognized her. It was Anita’s mom, Rani. I knew that Rani worked hard to keep her daughters alive, but I didn’t know that she went to this extreme. As a widow and now single mother of five children, Rani is illiterate, unskilled, and partially blind. However, as you can see, Rani’s motherly love is undeniable.

I made sure to wait until she had unloaded her bricks across the street before I approached her. When she saw me, a massive smile came over her face. She shook my hand and allowed me to take some pictures of her cautiously going about her work.

It is one thing to help people who need it, but this is almost surreal. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of our support than a woman and family like this that works so hard just to put food on the table. Today, Rani humbled me to my core. I wanted to give her a big hug but I was already gathering enough attention from her construction site. I tried as hard as I could to let her know what a special lady I think she is.

Forty-six days ago, Rani wasn’t interested in even allowing Anita to attend school. Anita can’t make money or help out around the house if she is sitting in a classroom. However, this morning, Rani and Anita were some of the first people out on the street.

As Rani worked diligently to move an entire wall, brick by brick, her daughter Anita sat in her first class ever assembling walls of knowledge, brick by brick, in her mind. Anita has the determination and level-headedness of her mother, which she has used to rapidly become one of our best students. I get the sense that her mom is very proud of her.

We returned to the slum to run a few more errands. While our students still studied away in the Carmel Convent School, their friends woke up late in the slum, ran around barefoot, and played under the water pumps with no plans for their futures.

In the slum, we set out to find a precious 4-year-old girl named Moni with a cleft lip and cleft palate. I called this morning and scheduled an appointment with the surgeon to bring her in for her first visit ever to a hospital. We went to tell her and her family that we will be going to see the surgeon tomorrow morning.

–Moni–

I have never seen Moni smile and I cannot blame her. She should have been taken to a hospital when she was an infant. Now, she lacks confidence and is an outcast from society; she rarely speaks and cannot enunciate much when she does; and she is malnourished from the inability to properly chew many foods.

Fortunately for Moni, she was outside when we walked past her home yesterday on another errand. Tomorrow, she will see the surgeon and within a few weeks she will have a beautiful smile on her face and so will everyone else around her.

Our next stop was to visit a little girl named Chandani, who has facial deformation on the right side of her face and head. We told her mother that we would also like to take her to the plastic surgeon tomorrow morning. She agreed without hesitation.

And, of course, no one can forget Manish. He is now a week into his steroid treatment and is experiencing the expected side effects. His tummy is filled with gas and he is not as hungry as he used to be, but he is just as cute as can be and will also join us for his weekly trip to see the plastic surgeon tomorrow morning.

Then, we went home for lunch. Yes, that was all just one morning in India. I wish every morning could be as productive and meaningful as that one.

As we ate lunch, our students also went home from school to have their own. While all of the other Carmel Convent School students stayed at home for the rest of the afternoon, ours returned to the school from 3-5pm for their special class. They are in boot camp now and they love it. They were just as enthusiastic to come to school this afternoon as they were at six o’clock this morning. We distributed the new books and backpacks to all of the students, each of whom thanked us for every single book as we handed them out.

Forty-six days ago, Ramotar’s cycle-rickshaw was used to carry his family home to the slum. Today, it was a school bus that carried the hopes and dreams of his community to and from their new lives.

You can see from the photos the elation that your donations are giving to these children and their families. The smiles on their faces are smiles of gratitude and appreciation the likes of which I have never seen before.

I said 46 days ago that I could not wait to buy Neha and Gudiya their backpacks and supplies, to put them in brand new uniforms and shoes, or to watch them attend school for the first time. When I made that comment, I never thought that we would achieve these same goals for them and 16 other students in less than seven weeks.

We have been the facilitators and ambassadors, but you donors and sponsors have been the real heroes. We are here on the front lines but you are the ones sending us resources and supplies to stand up for what we all know is right.

Your donations are not just providing lessons for our children, they are teaching an entire slum society of 25,000 people about the importance of education. Every day here is a new opportunity to not just see a need but do something about it. Today, as Rani carried bricks on her head to feed her five children, her daughter became the first person in her family to ever attend school. Rani and the community now fully understand what we are trying to accomplish here. She and her neighbors realize that if Anita and the other children use their heads to learn now, they won’t have to carry bricks with them later.

Please know that medical expenses for children like Manish, Chandani, and Moni are not coming out of your donations to the Squalor to Scholar Program. For the time being, my family and I are covering these expenses. If you would like to sponsor an operation or its associated costs, please email me at squalortoscholarprogram@gmail.com and I will get back to you.

There is a backlog of fascinating events that I have yet to tell you about. I apologize for the delay of this post. However, please know that I am always thinking about your support. Thanks for staying tuned in and please consider a donation if you haven’t yet. These lives and smiles (some of which still need to be surgically corrected) are worth every penny. Thank you.

Poornima (aka Kashak)…

…I know I have great friends; but I didn’t know they were this great! Recently, my friend and fellow Washington University in St. Louis alumnus and recent graduate Laura Pridmore decided to sponsor one of our deserving children for an entire year. I am excited to present Laura with her new “daughter,” Poornima.

In many previous posts, I have referred to Poornima by her “house” name, Kashak. In the slum, Kashak is still Kashak. However, at her new school, the Carmel Convent School, she is known only by her real name, Poornima. In a way, this duality of names underscores the double lives that she and our students now live.

–Poornima riding in the tuk-tuk to get the shoes and uniform Laura bought her–

–Poornima trying on her first pair of real shoes–

–Gudiya, Versha, and Poornima arriving at the Carmel Convent School for the first time–

–Poornima with her sister Versha in Sister Puspha’s office–

Poornima and Versha’s parents, Gudiya and Rustam, are steadfastly appreciative of our efforts here. They have insisted that I come to their home two times now, where both times they have had an ice cold Limca soda waiting for me. As I sit on the bed that takes up most of their home, I always make a point to show my satisfaction after every sip. To receive such heartwarming gratitude and hospitality from people who have so little to give away is truly special.

Rustam works as a machine operator in a local shirt factory. His family may not have many clothes, but the ones they do have they wear with beauty, pride, and dignity. They continually look better than most people with 100 times the income.

–Gudiya climbing the ladder into their home with Poornima’s uniform in hand–

Like Ajeet, Poornima also runs home to wash her uniform after school even if it isn’t dirty. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

I took this picture of Kashak on January 2 so that I would be able to remember her name. Now, I will never forget either of her names. She has become a part of the Squalor to Scholar family and will remain as such for many years to come.

Laura, I hope Poornima and her smile melt your heart as much as they do mine. Her beautiful mother, Gudiya, is illiterate. However, thanks to you, Poornima will not be. You can consider Poornima’s home your own. If you ever come to India, Laura, your new family will be waiting to welcome you with open arms, a seat on their bed, and an ice cold refreshing Limca.

Pedal to the Metal…

…I was under the impression that our students would not start first standard with the other students. However, as usual, the plans have changed. Over the past week, we have been gearing up for the first day of the 2012-2013 school year on Monday, March 26. Late March and early April in India are the equivalent of Late August and early September for the American school year. Our timing for starting the Squalor to Scholar Program could not have been more fortuitous. To take children without any education who live among the chaos and filth of this…

…to the peace and serenity of this…

…to their first day of actual school at the best school in town in under six weeks has been a massive undertaking. Many thanks to my fellow volunteers Natalie Wills and Heather Barnes, our wonderful sponsors, the Carmelite sisters, and our patient teachers for their help in preparing these 18 students and their families for the big day.

Six days a week for the past three weeks, every student has shown inspirational enthusiasm to attend school. They walk single-file in perpetually pristine uniforms to and from school as if they own the streets. They do their homework at night and show up early the next morning to attend the slum school, where we provide tutoring and more homework. When we assign homework, they shake their heads, wiggle their index fingers, and say, “No” while indicating that we did not assign enough work. I have never seen students ask for homework before. When we started, I just hoped our children would enjoy school. Now, they can’t seem to get enough of it!

One of my favorite parts of the day is taking attendance in our afternoon classes. I know that all of our children are present every day. No student has missed a day of school yet, or even been late. But I began taking attendance at the teachers’ insistence and am glad that I did. Each student will jump out of his or her seat with a hand raised high and beaming voice call back, “Present, Sir!” The first time I took attendance, the kids just about brought tears to my eyes.

Discipline, manners, and values are subjects of much emphasis for the teachers. The regular Carmel Convent School students are accustomed to sophisticated, strict, and rule-abiding ways of life. Our students, on the other hand, have grown up in an environment with little order and few concepts of propriety. Our students are used to hitting one another, going to the bathroom wherever they want, and running around with reckless abandon. Changing these core instincts takes time.

–Getting treats and saying thank you to the sisters–

–Sister Prasanna, Sister Asha, and Deepa–

Deepa is our neighbor and one of the most adept teachers I have ever seen. She has been a blessing from the beginning. Deepa is a full-time first standard Carmel Convent School teacher. Fortunately, she fully understands our goals and needs. Deepa told me, “Your dream for them is my dream too, we will fulfill our dream.”

–Versha in her brand new uniform–

Diagnosis…

…This morning, we returned to Fortis Escorts Hospital to see the plastic surgeon, receive a full diagnosis, and discuss different treatment options for little Manish. For the first time, Manish’s father Kusun was also able to come along.

It is apparent that Manish’s condition is quite unique. The chief radiologist, chief plastic surgeon, and chief pediatrician at Fortis Escorts, as well as physicians at the All India Institute of Health Sciences in Delhi, have had difficulty pinning down what is causing the tumor on Manish’s face. Is it a vascular malformation or a hemangioma? I wish we could say with certainty, but even the best doctors in Faridabad and New Delhi cannot definitively diagnose his condition.

While three of the top doctors in Faridabad stopped their other patient flows to discuss the case even further, we had Manish’s blood drawn for a CBC (complete blood count). The doctors wanted to see if Manish’s tumor was hogging platelets. Manish was adorable as he looked with such curiosity at the needle before realizing the pain that it would inflict.

The doctors finally agreed that, given the flow patterns on the contrast MRI scans, the tumor is most likely a hemangioma. The pediatrician prescribed Manish (9.52kg) with tablets of Omnacortil (20mg) to be taken once daily. This is a strong steroid treatment that will hopefully slow or even stop growth of the hemangioma until it enters the involution stage.

The bad news is that Manish may have to live looking like this for the next 5 to 8 years. We could perform a surgery now, but any hemangiomatous tissue left behind could still continue to proliferate. The risk of infection, especially so close to the eye and brain, caused by opening the tumor is prohibitively high. It is far better for Manish to be disfigured for his youth than to become permanently blind, develop meningitis, or die. This has been an incredibly educational few weeks for me. I had no idea something that looks so out-of-control could actually take care of itself with time. Although I feel somewhat powerless, this is yet another lesson that we are all just human. Life, even if it is disfigured, is still beautiful.

The great news is that Manish is otherwise healthy and will hopefully respond to the medication in time for it not to proliferate to the extent that it covers his right eye. Manish was on medication previously, but not a proper dosage. If you live in a slum in India, you can’t just call up the public hospital to ask about your prescription. They would laugh at you on the phone. It sounds like Dolly and Kusun have been confused about proper use of the steroidal syrup they were prescribed before. Since Manish showed no typical signs of steroid medication (such as swelling, lack of appetite, or gaseousness), the doctors here at Fortis Escorts believe that Manish’s previous treatment has had little if any impact.

We bought Manish’s tablets at the pharmacy and his parents will start his treatment today. Next Tuesday, we will return to the hospital to see how Manish is reacting to his treatment and determine the extent of its side effects on him.

Manish isn’t just a celebrity in the hospital here. He is quickly gaining medical attention on the other side of the planet. I am working on having Manish’s MRI scans uploaded to radiologists and a renowned leader on infantile hemangiomas in Canada. Many thanks to these generous doctors for helping to provide truly global care to Manish.