day in the life

I awoke from deep incoherent slumber to pitch black and creaks of old plumbing and aching bones. Took chai and watched the girls doing their morning chores, offering assistance they only giggled at. I asked if I could join them for yoga (I'd seen it on the schedule) only to find they trickled into the empty room and stared at me as I stretched, finally mimicking my movements. I led them through a few sun salutations and warrior series, and they particularly enjoyed the tree pose, toppling over with laughter. (I had to resist the urge to hollar timber so as not to disturb the sisters' morning prayers.) Next I observed mass, my first since childhood, listening to the sweet voices of my little sisters and wondering at the strange practices of the priest and his assistants. I chose not to consume the body of Jesus, as I was never baptised and heard that is immediate cause for eternal damnation.

A quick breakfast and it was off to my first day of class, as a teacher this time. Rocky start as I tried a name game involving alliteration and grammar with kindergardeners who also knew all the songs I had prepared to teach. The next class was no better, for they were so small they barely understood what I said and after explaining duck duck goose found myself being chased in circles by the entire class. The following two went much smoother, and I hit a home run with "head, shoulders, knees and toes" and "row your boat" though I don't think we'll be making rounds anytime soon. I fell in love with two girls from the orphanage who clung to me like chimps and resembled them even more as they plucked the lice from eachothers' hair. Their clothes were stained, pinned together and in tatters, and their faces were covered with scars and snot, but they smiled sweetly and wrestled over who got to hold my hand. I tried to have snack with them but apparently the tree the kids sit under drops poisonous catterpillars that can cause your skin to swell.

Home for lunch, Sister Alice gave me a bouqet of three roses, pointing to each in turn and chanting "We love you". Over lunch she told me about the issues they're having in acquiring land, and I confessed to her how frustrating it was for me to come home to such affluence after a simple summer. I indicated that if I could only get three women in Beverly Hills to sell their purses we would have enough money to by space for a new orphanage. She replied, "God gave us all everything, to share" and shook her head at how unevenly the wealth had been distributed. After school a walk into the hills brought me to the other side of the mountain, with a full view of Hyderabad. I was surrounded by the reality I came here for: a woman feeding her goat rubble, one spanking her child with one hand and shoveling cement with the other, and a family with a yellow swollen baby who begged me to take their photograph. Skeleton buildings flourished with plumeria and housed families of butterflies. A few turns later I found myself lost in a slum. The road turned to dirt, the structures to shelters. People gathered in clusters to watch me pass and held out hardened hands. No one spoke English or knew my way home. Luckily I happened upon a rickshaw and payed him tripple fair to take me back to my sanctuary(which amounted to one dollar).

After I'd rested and took more chai the sisters escorted me to the bazaar to get me some new clothes (which is probably a kind way of them indicating that my sheer shirt was inappropriate for the Father's visit tomorrow). A thin alley offered all the wonders of the world, much like Ariel's cave of gadgets and gismos a-plenty. Sinister villans and beggers lurked in dark corners, but I had a guardian angel on each shoulder. It was tricky to try things on over what I was wearing but amazing to watch Sister Alice haggle, waggling her finger at men and demanding they "Give a fair price! You wouldn't cheat a nun." I got the full makeover, and the next morning the girls would look at me like a movie star. Traffic back was deadly and fumes of exaust seared my eye sockets. Happy to return home I had little time before we went to a nearby house to give a Rosary prayer, which included 50 Hail Mary's, several readings, and hymns in Telugu. The soft cadence resembled a lullaby; it lulled me almost to sleep. Afterwards we feasted, and I ate with my fingers the home-cooked delicacies. All I wanted was a bath bucket before bed but the water seems to have run out, which means it's time to call it a night and wake someone else up with the leaky pipes come sunrise.