A Hole in the Sky

A friend born in India sent the following saying, loosely translated, that describes how the seemingly impossible can happen by working together.

My interpretation of his poetry:

"Who says we can’t make a hole in the sky?

We can work together, throw a stone of ideas from our hearts here on earth, and—with that rock—create an opening in the sky to the heavens."

By joining together and taking inspired action, we can do anything.

If we all work together, we can make a difference in the lives of people who have been enslaved.

Here’s what two young women are doing:

* Katie advocates for female victims of slavery and other crimes.  Her blog is helping spread the word of Dress for a Good Cause. Visit!

* Maria helps women who are victims of human trafficking through her web site, Tiara Trade. Take a look at her blurb about “Stolen Sisters.”

Will you join us in lending a hand?

See what Katie and Maria are doing. Or click on The Women’s Journal article, “Dress for a Good Cause… Freedom,” to find another option for helping.

Together, let's make a hole in the sky.

What's in the Back of Your Closet?

The bridesmaid’s gown you really won’t wear again (even though you said you would), the prom dress you once adored, and the sparkly gala outfit and earrings everyone has seen (twice) could put a roof over a young woman’s head … and a meal on her stove… and a solar-powered street lamp on her lane for safety and security.

Please contact Carol or a member of the Rotary Club of West Chester Downtown to donate your gently worn dresses and jewelry for “Dress for a Good Cause.”

The fundraiser “Dress for a Good Cause” sells gently-worn party wear and picnic sundresses. All proceeds go to projects that benefit survivors of slavery. While local girls who might not be able to afford prom or graduation festivity attire—or simply may not want to spend a small fortune—end up with fashion statements, dresses stay out of landfills and provide funds for a worthy cause. When you donate your dresses, you can reclaim space in your closet and feel great about making a significant difference.

 

Funds from previous “Dress for a Good Cause” events have helped provide: motorbike and SUV for a boys’ rehab center and a small herd of cattle and a bio-gas oven for a women’s shelter in India. This year’s goal: a pavilion-type outdoor shelter at the center for survivors of human trafficking and sex slavery.

Worth Ten Thousand Words

If a picture paints a thousand words, a video is worth ten thousand. May the following two touch your heart and move you to action.


The first--a short but not sweet film about child slavery--left me with tears. 
http://www.rotary-ribi.org/districts/committeedetails.asp?DistrictNo=1080&DistSubCtteeID=437


The second, a chronicle of my November trip to India, shows what can be done to uplift humanity. Let it leave you with hope. The image of the vehicle presented at a slave-rehab center, within the video, is a prelude to my next blog entry: a request for you to help by looking in the back of your closet. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9S21FrpS20

Reflections on the Ganges

Like images of the sun rising or setting on the Ganges River, it is reflections—not direct observations—that enable me to make sense of my November trip to India.

True, reflections are imperfect. They are influenced by friends’ perceptions and feedback, reshaped by pain and happiness, and clarified by insight. Yet they are no less valid than the imperfect immediate perception of the experience.

After our team’s visit to Bal Vikas Ashram and meeting with Rotarians in Pratapgarh, we stepped off the river bank at Chunar and into a motorboat. We raised our pirate flag—a pretty red and black scarf tied to the pole our guide used to push us into deep water—and headed down the Ganges. It was my first opportunity to relax, enjoy the sunshine and allow the breeze to carry my thoughts whichever direction it pleased.

We passed steep banks with little temples and tall grasses where vultures soared overhead. We waved to boys in small fishing boats. I cringed inwardly at the sight of large pipes that channeled sewage and toxic chemicals into the Ganges. I watched with fascination funeral pyres with dead bodies—wrapped and covered in orange marigold petals—and thick, acrid, gray smoke rising into the air.

“Mother Ganga,” the Ganges River, grants new life, our guide told us. Indians commit the ashes or bodies of their loved ones to the river. In Varanasi—the final destination of our boat ride—people bathe in the water and perform religious rituals at its edge.

Just before we reached Varanasi for aarthi (evening prayers), my water bottle landed in the river. Unhooked from the carabiner that tethered my pure drinking water to my backpack and essentials, it floated in the muddy gray-brown water. Knowing I could never clean and sterilize the bottle for my use again, I mentally released it.  Who knows whether it ended up in the home of a fishing family, was sold to an unsuspecting tourist or became a vessel for the Ganges’ holy water? Only Mother Ganga knows the new life it was granted.

So it is with my experiences, reflections, my memories. Letting them go—through written blog entries or conversations with friends—is giving them new life.

Gratitude

On this holiday of thanks, I am grateful for good health--that I do not face the threat of polio everyday. I am thankful I slept on clean, soft sheets last night and awoke to a warm breakfast--I do not sleep nightly on a train station platform or scrounge food for my family.

Although I'm sad today that I was too sick to go to the women's shelter and had to return to the US early, I rejoice for the girls in the shelter whose family members were located this week and who will be reunited after treatment. And I'm sincerely grateful to be home with my husband and daughters, who have never known slavery.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Keys to Life

When we drove the new vehicle into the gates of Bal Vikas Ashram, I got a lump in my throat. When 33 boys, all survivors of slavery, began to sing, my eyes welled up. When I saw Mark Little--one of the key Rotarians to donating the vehicle to the survivors' rehabilitation center--crying unabashedly, my tears started flowing.

The boys we met at the center were rescued over the past six months from brick, carpet and plastic factories, stone quarries and a hotel where boys cleaned and served customers. Most recently, boys who had been trafficked to another part of the country to work in garbage recycling were rescued and brought to the center.

When I interviewed a few boys with the help of a local Rotarian and the ashram manager, they described waking at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. to get ready for work, dividing their daily food allotment to make two meals, and violence.

Under the dedicated care of ashram staff members, the boys are recovering. They are eating like elephants, learning songs and trade skills for later self-sufficiency, and preparing to return home.

The vehicle contributed by Rotary clubs in USA, England and India will enable staff members to perform raid and rescue operations, transport survivors to medical appointments and court cases, and restore the boys to their families and villages. (The vehicle also served as a Disney-World-type thrill ride for an afternoon as the boys crowded into the seats to ride up and down the driveway.)

It amazes me that a set of keys to one vehicle can provide the keys to life for so many children.

I'll provide more information and photos in later posts, as I get permission.

Everywhere You Look

We've come from Mewat (site of the immunization day) to Jaipur to Agra (home of the Taj Mahal) to Varanasi. The spectrum from poverty to wealth is extreme, like nothing the US knows. Entire families sleep on the ground at the grimy train station, where tiny children scrounge the remainders of Lay's potato chip crumbs from bags in the trash. At the other end, families shop for jewels fit for a king.

Everywhere among the poor and the rich, there is filth. Yet everywhere we look, there is beauty.

woman at the well

Taj Mahal

Taking care of hay in the village