Posted on March 18, 2017 under Storytelling with 6 comments

My saving Grace

Anybody who has been a parent has a potty training story.

Looking back, training a young person to use the toilet is child’s play compared to some of the other challenging aspects of child rearing. But it takes a lot of time and patience to teach a toddler the niceties of where and when to expel body waste… preferably not in a busy dentist’s waiting room or in a lineup at the grocery store.

Many of us thought we would do our bit for the environment and decided to go the cloth diaper route. That charming experience lasted about as long as the gestation period of an opossum : 12-13 days. Of course, our parent’s generation had no choice. With large families and always a couple of youngsters in diapers, seeing a long clothe lines full of them was common. On the coldest days of the winter, they would be as rigid and hard as a rock, standing at attention like a guard.

Disposable diapers are not as environmentally friendly and are costlier than the real thing but most of us threw in the towel ( the cloth diaper ) and “pampered” ourselves. Even dads could figure out how to affix one of these to a smooth butt. We all went through a period, especially with our first child when we wondered if they would be crossing the stage at high school graduation wearing a diaper, such was the slow progress in figuring out how to use the toilet.

We all naively counted up the savings we would realize when the disposable diaper days ended.

And even when we thought that our child was fully trained, there would always be a small accident.

Shopping is like potty training for men like me. The only difference is that I still keep having “ shopping “ accidents at the age of 65.

After a couple of particularly challenging weeks in India , I decided to have a “ time out” day and head to a town nearby to do some shopping. Things must be bad when I will willingly and knowingly head to a large department store but desperate times call for desperate measures.

After all these years, I know a thing or two about shopping and I have my own “ code of conduct.” #1. Stay home. Do not go shopping. #2. If you absolutely must go, make sure you’re accompanied by a woman. # 3. Repeat step #1.

I “ doubled down” on step #2 and asked two women to accompany me to Pothy’s , a seven floor glass and steel emporium of merchandise in Nagercoil. I know exactly three words of Tamil and one verse of a song in Malayalam, the two languages spoken in the state of Tamil Nadu. These two women would act as my fashion consultants and translators. We entered the modern, air conditioned building and I swear that half of the population of Tamil Nadu was working in this store. I have been known to wander aimlessly through Walmart without finding a solitary salesperson.

I was hoping to add to my extensive wardrobe ( three shirts, a pair of shorts, 5 pairs of underwear and a bathing suit ) by adding a new spring wardrobe of Indian clothing. It didn’t take long for the women to find me a new white kurta , even though most of the offerings made me look like a priest. Then it was on to a pair of pants to complete the ensemble. These kinds of pants are loose fitting at the top but narrow and bunch at the bottom.

A pair of maroon colored pants was recommended and I went into the change room to try them on. I found it very difficult getting the pants over my heels but I am a determined shopper if nothing else and I tugged and pulled until I got them on. I modeled them for my two friends and the sales clerks. I got the “two thumbs up” from all quarters. I re-entered the change room and found out that getting the pants off was far more challenging than getting them on. So difficult in fact that I had to go back to the sales clerk and ask him to come into the change room. It was quickly determined that these pants were not coming off in a conventional manner.

I was paraded through the store amid stares and grins from the other clerks. I was marched into the alterations room and the head seamstress carefully removed enough stitches from each pant leg to allow me to remove the pants. I walked back to the change room looking like I had purchased a bargain pair of pants from Frenchy’s , with pieces of thread dragging behind me on the floor.

The checkout procedure was interesting, to say the least. Another clerk ( not the one who sold me the goods ) walked me over to a table to secure an invoice of sorts which I was instructed to then take to the cashier. My merchandise was then shipped to another location ( the pick up spot ) where I would go once my bill was paid in full. I quickly found out that the credit card machines in this ultra modern facility are not synchronized. Regrettably ( through translation) I discovered that they only accepted “international “ credit cards on the 2^nd. and 7^th. floors. I was on the 3^rd.

Another voucher was produced and I was off to pay my bill. The good news is that my card worked flawlessly but when I saw the clerk grab a fistful of rupees ( 500 or so ) to hand to me, I knew something was amiss. He had entered the incorrect amount and I ended up getting “ cash back.” All of these transactions were carried out in Tamil. I knew right then that my shopping trip would have lasted maybe 30 seconds if I had come to the store unaccompanied.

 As my new kurta and pants were being altered one floor above, we decided to go to the fifth floor to purchase a few pairs of shorts. You guessed it. When I went to pay, I had to go two floors above to pay and then come back to claim my goods. My final purchase was a new backpack and this was on the 6^th. floor. There were many trips up and down stairs and escalators to pay and then secure the items that I had purchased. True. They had an elevator but I have seen molasses flow uphill quicker than the one in this building.

After having afternoon tea at a nearby restaurant ( called a “hotel” in India ), I bade farewell to my two fearless accomplices and took a bus back home. I decided to model my new threads for my friends only to discover that the maroon pants had not been altered. Thankfully, my shopping buddies’ mom was a seamstress and a few days later, Grace had me back in business.

Now that I have had some “Pothy training” I just might go back to this store someday. But I won’t be shopping. I will be standing in the middle of the sari floor admiring the thousands of beautiful dresses.

 For me, shopping should only be a spectator sport.

Posted on March 16, 2017 under Faces in the Crowd with one comment

Grace and poise

 

“ My dream is to be able to support my niece and nephew so that they can get a good education.”

Meet Gracie Akrose.

The eldest of five children, Gracie was born in Vallavallai, Tamil Nadu, India in 1977. Her father was a fisherman and her mother sold fish at the local market.

At the age of one, Gracie was dealt a blow as she contracted polio. Polio or poliomyelitis is a disease caused by poliovirus. It can cause lifelong paralysis and can be deadly. By the time she was five and with more children in her home, her parents were no longer able to cope and sent her to live at Mercy Home, run by an order of Roman Catholic Sisters. Initially, this was a very traumatic experience for Gracie but eventually she settled in and spent the next ten years with the Sisters.

She began school and by all accounts was a very good student. Upon completion of her 10^th standard ( grade 10 ), she returned home. She was sad to leave the convent as she had been very well treated. Over the next two years she studied tailoring at a convent run by the Sisters of Bethany. She learned quickly and discovered a new talent which was both satisfying and practical. She began doing sewing jobs at home with a machine provided by the Sisters.

Over time her new found abilities became crucial to the survival of the family as a string of misfortunes made her the sole income earner. Along with her parents, she was also supporting a sister, a niece and a nephew who were all living under the same roof. Gradually it became very difficult to run her small business with all of the other distractions at home.

In January of 2017, the Sisters at Sanditham Bethania School offered her a teaching position and also provided her with food and accommodation at the adjacent convent. In addition to a modest monthy income from teaching, she is also able to earn additional money by doing private work for people in the community. She loves living at the convent where she finds peace by attending mass.

As hard as Gracie works, she still finds it very difficult to pay the mounting medical bills, food and repairs at the family home.

Gracie’s future is uncertain as there are no guarantees that she can keep her position at the school and the convent. She worries about her family, especially her niece and nephew. She knows that their best chance to succeed in life is to get a good education but after the 10^th. standard, government funding for education ceases. In order to continue their education, these children must pay and there is simply no money for this.Gracie is hoping that with a newer model sewing machine, she can increase her output.

Gracie has no bitter feelings or regrets about the cards she’s been dealt. “ I accepted my physical limitations a long time ago.” Polio has slowed her down but it has not dampened her indomitable spirit. She hasn’t ruled out marriage although she figures that her age and physical challenges present obstacles.

But nothing would surprise anyone who meets this wonderful woman with the perpetual smile and positive outlook on life.

 

 She lives life with dignity and grace.

 

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If you would like to make a contribution towards a new sewing machine for Gracie ( $500 ) please go to my fundraising page at http://www.week45.com/supporting-the-daughters-of-mary-in-india/

Posted on March 13, 2017 under Monday Morning Musings with 3 comments

Sunrise

“ Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Quickly flow the days”

Sunrise, Sunset. Fiddler on the Roof

 

I completed the “ daily double” yesterday.

No, I didn’t go to the race track and pick the winner of two horse races nor was I playing Jeopardy. I wasn’t even referring to the iconic Canadian coffee combo, a Tim Horton’s “ double double.”

Kanyakumari, India is the very last city on the Southern tip of India and is surrounded by three Oceans: The Indian Ocean, The Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal. Because of its location, it is a very popular tourist stop. The primary reason that most people come is to view the sunrise and sunset. Most of us from the Atlantic Provinces might find this surprising as this is just a way of life for us. But in India, the sun is an important religious symbol and devotees come to worship.

It is quite a spectacle. Long before the sun comes up, the buses start to arrive near Sunrise Point and all along Beach Road. During certain festivals the number of buses can be in the hundreds. And these are not just your garden variety buses. These are touring buses with all the creature comforts. They are small, self-contained micro communities. The buses are resplendent with flashing colored lights and all kinds of decorations. If they are transporting young people, then you can expect loud , thumping music and lots of screaming… especially when they spy people like me!

Once parked, they go through their morning rituals. They bring all of their own food and prepare it right on the spot. The city provides huge tanks of water for washing up and drinking. There are “pay toilets” scattered throughout the area. As the sky brightens, there is a heightened sense of anticipation as people get as close to the water as possible… thousands of them. Many people sit quietly and meditate.

While there are several places to watch the sunset, there is one focal area called Sunset Point. Everyone goes there. There are all kinds of vendors and hawkers… and people handing out religious pamphlets. I am a regular consumer at one of the mobile ice cream vendor carts. Part of the beach is strewn with very large boulders that gradually thin out into a pristine beach suitable for swimming. Many people just sit on the rocks in the hour leading up to sunset while others frolic in the water. For some, it is the first time that they’ve ever dipped their toes in the ocean. As the sun begins to dip, everyone stops what they’re doing and simply watches. It is quite something to watch thousands of people entranced by one of nature’s finest moments.

And then they cheer and clap… and stampede for the exits!

The next 15 minutes is sheer pandemonium as everyone seems to be in a rush to go somewhere. The parking area is filled with buses, taxis and auto rickshaws and the road leading out of Sunset Point is narrow and poorly maintained. Pedestrians travel at their own peril in the waning light.

So yesterday, I completed both ends of the double double. The sunrise and sunset didn’t disappoint but just watching all of these people was every bit as entertaining.

My 14 young “ aspirants” ( girls studying to become nuns ) left on the weekend. I spent a lot of time with them over the past month, helping them with their English. We became very close and I was really sad to see them leave.

If you’re not a Facebook person, you would have missed a letter that I posted the other day. It was written in Tamil by Mariyappam, a recipient of one of the wheelchair tricycles. He presented me with the letter the evening he received his bike. I was very touched by his sentiments. “ I have nothing to give in return to show my gratitude. But all I can do is pray for all blessings to be showered upon you in abundance.” He signed his name and in brackets wrote ( “ The differently abled.” )

Thank you to everyone who contributed to the water taps, the wheelchairs and the wheelchair tricycles. It has made a big difference in the leprosy community. May blessings be showered upon all of you in abundance.

Story time. Coming up this week, I have a shopping story. It is called “ Pothy Training.” Pothy is the name of a large department store. I could just as easily called it “Potty Training.” Stay tuned.

“ Quickly flow the days.” I only have three more weeks in Southern India before flying to Delhi to meet up with brother Don to do some traveling in North India. Before I know it, my six months in India will be over and I’ll be winging my way back to Canada.

Looking forward to coffee and chats will old friends and new.

Have a great week.

 

Sunset