From: Gerald Nelson
CC: george nepert
Subject: Trip to the leper colonies
Date: Tue, 14 Feb 2006 20:39:17 -0500
George, you may want to put this in the Friends of India news letter. I will send a hard copy with
pictures later. Gerry
Dear fellow RPCVs Tuesday 24 of January,
The 35th reunion has finished and all enjoyed a grand time. Unfortunately, some of you could not
make the journey, but if the bridge holds and the creek doesn't rise too much, we will have
another.
I must relate a little story to each of you about Tom. I'm sure by now you have looked at some
of the snaps that were enclosed and focused on one with Tom in a hospital bed, thus the story.
In the wee hours of the morning, I met Tom at the Jharsuguda railway platform on the 3nd of
January. Our rendezvous was as impeccable as a Swiss clock, which was always an amazing event in
India.
I had been in India since the 21st of December and ventured from Mumbia vie the Gatanjali express
to Jharsuguda. Something strange happened there, although it always seems strange
things (unexplainable things happen to me). I'm not a believer in the supernatural;
therefore, this was strange.
When I was about to leave for Bhargarh with Father John, a brother by the name of Ceciel
approached me with a pink- enveloped letter. The letter was postmarked August 29th 2005.
The letter was addressed to Cox Colony (the previous name of Shanti Bhavan) and was
written by a Pamela M. Hussey. No forewarding address was given and the request in the
letter was for pictures of the old church and adjacent house. Both were supposedly on
the grounds of Shanti Bhavan and were purportedly constructed by the grand father, a
Richard E. Cox. Mr. Cox, a convert to Catholicism, had donated the land to the Catholic
Church on his death. Ceceil wondered if I could track this lady down. This did appear to
be a bit difficult, since no return address could be found on the letter or envelope. I
agreed to try, took the appropriate pictures and stuffed the letter in my diary. There the
letter was forgotten.
Father John, his driver and I drove off for Bargarh and Vikas Deepti. After a couple of days
in Bhargarh, I traveled to Bolangir, by train . I visited a dear friend and former language
instructor by the name of Gayatri. You may remember this beaming young girl with an occasional
migraine. Gayatri, was now married to a great guy by the name of Omul. Also, she was now an
accomplished author and principal of a girl's high school in Phutanagir. I found out that
Gayatri did not have a computer and decided to change that, since a computer would be a help
to her writing and her students.
A new computer franchise had arrived from Bhubaneswar. So, one afternoon, Gayatri, her husband,
brother Babu, and I ventured over to price out computers. After a bit of haggling, we managed
to purchase a computer and printer for $830.00 U.S. dollars. This price was fairly good, since
a computer without a printer in the U.S. would cost around $500.00. We took a few snaps of the
computer and Gayatri, shook hands with the owner, and agreed to pay for the computer by VISA on
reaching the main office in Bhubaneswar; since there was no credit card machine in Bolangir.
A few days were spent in Bolangir working on my rusty Oryia and visiting with family. Gayatri's
older brother and father had died, but Mama was still alive and actually looking less
emaciated and more talkative than in past remembrances. After a delightful stay, I said
my namascara to the family and caught the train back to Bargarh.
Father John loaned me a driver and the Vikas Deepti jeep and sent me off to Sambalpur. A
few days were spent visiting friends and re-orientating myself to Sambalpur. The city had
grown from 80,000 to 400,000 people. The infrastructure had not changed; just bigger, with
more of the same little shops and so much more crowded. The tiny hamlet of Dhanupalie where
Tom and I had spent our two years was as big as Sambalpur previously was. The village,
Jhankarpali, where Tom and I shared such great times with our departed friend Bhaban Pradan
(Chief of Jhankarpali village), was now serviced by rail that ran through to Bhubaneswar.
The new chief of Jhankarpali was Bhaban's youngest son Prekash. The other sons all left for
loftier jobs than village chief. I also visited Snigdha Nayak (Christion) and her lovely
family and an old HDW dokani friend, Chowhan, and his family.
After leaving Sambalpur, my driver and I left for Jharsuguda to pick up Tom. We spent the
evening at Shanti Bhavan (The Catholic retreat center).
Four in the morning found me standing on the station platform waiting for Tom. Amazingly
after a 24 hour journey from Mumbai, the train was on time, and Tom was standing at the
train door waiting to disembark. I think he was equally amazed at this departure from the
norm. We jumped in the jeep and headed back to the leper colonies and the crippled
children's rehab center at Vikas Deepti in Bargarh.
Father John Maliekal (The director of Vikas Deepti) has, since Father Flemings death,
directed the Father Fleming Foundation. Father John has done a miraculous job with the
leper colonies and everything else that he has touched. In the past 13 years he has
built a Catholic Church and hospital. He has transformed the 10 acre Vikas Deepti
grounds from a reed covered brushy landscape to one with two fish ponds, rice and
wheat paddies, a hog, chicken, cattle and vegetable farm and an educational and
rehabilitation hostel for crippled children. Plus, he has converted the forgotten
and left-to-die leper colonies, whose inmates struggled to exist by begging, to an
entrepreneurial rickshaw, goat herding, pig raising and gardening cooperative.
Father John had also started replacing the leper hovels with rat proof cement
blockhouses. This was started after a leprosy-riddled woman approached father John
one day and asked for a house. Father John almost jokingly replied, " What kind of
house would you like?" The leper woman said, " a house where the rats will not gnaw at
my fingers and nose while I sleep." Father John knew that this was not a joke;
this was reality.
All of this was truly a miracle --- the work of one man. I found Father John to be
extremely gracious and humble. He would never take credit for such awesome
accomplishments. I hope that some day each and every one of you can meet Father
John. He makes me feel like a prince, but after seeing his works; I felt my
contributions have been meager at best.
Now back to the story.
Tom and I spent the day at Vikas Deepti (Bhargarh) and the adjacent leper colonies.
I first must divulge that my digestive tract was giving me problems. During that day,
I had seen a doctor and had blood work done due to recurring flatulence and burping
up a rotten egg gas, an embarrassing phenomenon to say the least. The Doctor said,
" You should be going to Kalinga hospital in Bhubaneswar and taking one ultra sound."
Since the symptoms had me exhausted, I decided his advice should be followed. Little
did I know the events that were about to unfold???
We had purchased an overnight train ride from Bhargarh to Bhubaneswar, with a sleeper
from Sambalpur to Bhubaneswar. I quickly fell asleep on reaching my top bunk and began
snoring according to Tom (although I think this is a fabrication, since I never snore.)
Unfortunately, Tom was not so lucky. He was up and down all night long, heaving his
guts out with a bad case of diarrhea. By the time we arrived in Bhubaneswar, he had
had no sleep and looked like death warmed over. He hung onto the bunk like that was
the only way he could stay erect. (Trains are not the place to get sick.)
In the early morning hours we grabbed the first auto rickshaw we could get and preceded
to Kalinga hospital. Since the doctors were not on duty, we had to go to the Casualty
Ward (Emergency ward). Now let me tell you, every one that comes through that door is
treated as a casualty and Tom did look the part. Tom was hooked up to an I.V. quicker
than two shakes of a Chitviti's tail. The first warning flag went up when I was told
that Tom needed an I.V. (We had to be in Puri for the reunion that morning). Another
warning flag popped up when I was informed that the deposit was 5000.00 rupees in
addition to the 400-rupee bed, which was the cheapest bed I could get. And this was
in addition to a whole sack full of electrolyte I.V. solutions and antibiotics,
another 253.00 rupees. After bargaining them down to a 1000.00 rupee deposit, I
ditched the idea of getting my ultra sound and decided instead to go pay for
Gayatri's computer. As I walked out the door of the casualty ward, Tom was on his
back with doctors checking vital signs and a nurse inserting I.V. tubes into his arm.
Remember-everything in India is always an adventure.
The time was now about 10:00 AM and I took off in an auto rickshaw with a driver that
knew less about Bhubaneswar than I did. That was bad. I eventually found the owner of
the computer store and he was so happy on selling a computer, he wanted to spend the
rest of the day with me. I explained that my friend was in the hospital and we were
missing an appointment in Puri.
I arrived back at the hospital about 1:00 PM and I find Tom in a third floor room,
which looked amazingly like a civil war field hospital. I walked down the rows of
patients lying in bed and found Tom fast asleep. I figured Tom had slept enough, so
I jabbed my pointer finger into his ribs. Sure enough, he woke up. "Well, how are
you feeling Tom?" " Oh, I am feeling much better". I told him to get some rest as
I had to get my ultra sound, but we best leave. That was when I got the bright idea
that this situation looked like one great photo op. So, I whipped out the digital
camera and started taking pictures. Also, this floor contained a whole bunch of
really cute nurses (If you are going to get sick in India, this was the place), --
the head nurse did not like the idea of some foreigner taking pictures. I thought she
was going to rip the camera out of my hands. This was where knowing a little Oryia
came in handy. Once they found out Tom and I spoke Oryia, we became instant celebrities.
They were so involved in speaking Oryia with us they completely forgot about the
pictures. (And I repeat, they were really cute nurses.) As one nurse wiped the
moisture from Tom's brow, another tucked the blankets securely around him and a
third gave sustenance. I figured that I should probably leave for a bit and get
my ultra sound. Thus, I excused myself, as I knew Tom was in secure hands.
Everything in this hospital was pay-as-you-go. Four hundred and fifty Rupees later,
I got my ultra sound and they told me to come back about 2:30 and they would read me
the verdict. So, up the stairs I went again to see how Tom was doing.
The nurses had taken such good care of Tom; he was now sleeping like a baby. I was
thinking, " We have got to get out of here." So I jabbed my pointer finger in his
ribs again. He woke up, " Yes! I'm feeling much better".
I explained to Tom we had to leave. Tom agreed, so I told the nurse that we wanted
to check out. Well, we couldn't just check out, we had to check with the doctor. So,
I told Tom I would go down stairs and ask the doctor if we could leave.
I went downstairs and back to the original doctor, who said, " No, I am not being in
charge of discharge, you must be seeing head surgeon Dr. Gupta". I finally found a
blood-soaked head surgeon operating on some poor soul. When he saw me, he immediately
dropped his scalpel and we had a nice engaging conversation. He wanted to keep Tom at
least 24 hours, if not longer. He finally agreed to let me check him out, if I took
full responsibility in case he should die walking out the hospital door, but he first
would have to come up and see Tom. Then he casually asked if Tom had a defective
kidney or gallbladder that he needed removed or any back problems. I guess he did
spinal taps too. I could see why they put this guy in charge of discharge. Then he
says, "I be coming up around 6:00." I presumed he meant that day. I told him we had
an appointment at 4:00 in Puri. And he promised to come up soon.
So, great! I trudged back up the stairs and told the nurse the good news. Since we
just had to wait for the surgeon, I decide to get my ultra sound read. Back down
stairs again. A new casualty doctor was sitting in the Emergency ward and he read
my ultra sound. Everything looked great - kidneys, gall bladder, bladder, pancreas,
and prostrate all checked out. Except for an enlarged fatty intrusive liver. That
was bad - after I swore that I would give up alcohol (five times) they let me go.
Upstairs I went again. I had visions of pushing Tom out of the hospital with an I.V.
in his arm.
Tom was again fast asleep. Yes, I had to wake him up so he could get dressed. So, I
used the old pointer finger in the ribs again. He groaned, rolled over and the
conversation went like this, " How you feeling Tom, " Much better now - except for
this pain in my ribs." I told Tom that we had to leave immediately. "Get out of the
bed and do not faint or fall on the floor when you get up or we will be here for
days!". When Tom started to move, the nurses got excited - (but not quite as
excited as when I started taking digital pictures!) Now remember they still had
Tom hooked up to this I.V. Eventually a nurse inventoried the meds and I.V.
containers. Ah! We can leave!
But not so fast. The head nurse informed me that I had to go get a release form.
Plus, the head surgeon had still not officially checked us out. The word I was
thinking about this time starts with S---.
The time is now about 4:00 PM. Oh! Great, I had run up and down those three
flights of stairs about 8 god zillion times by now. So down I went again.
Forty-five minutes later, I dragged myself (plus enlarged liver) up the stairs
with a paid bill and release form. I don't know how Tom managed to do it, but he
ate up those 1000.00 rupees and then some. I told Tom (who still had the I.V.
stint in his arm) "we are leaving. Lets go!" He winks at a nurse who is clutching
his arm like she was coming along. We said our fond namascaras and started walking
down the hall as the nurse released her grip and pulled out the stint. The time
was 5:00 PM.
Tom's expenses were a grand total of $42.30 for the whole stay, doctors, medications,
and the Casualty Ward visit. My costs were $9.00 for the ultra sound.
I forgot to mention, by the time we left the hospital, the head surgeon finally
arrived and waved goodbye. The nurses waved their hankies and wiped their tear
stained faces, a couple had shyly mentioned something about coming with us to
America. We were truly heart breakers. The day was almost shot. We just wanted a
nice comfortable taxi ride to Puri. Not To Happen!
No taxis were available, so we caught an auto rickshaw. He said he would take us
to the taxi stand. Emphasis here should be placed on the take.
After riding around for some time, we found the only taxi available was 660 rupees.
The auto rickshaw Walla said he would take us for 300. We offered 250 and he finally
agreed. We figured this would be at least a one and half-hour ride. We did not more
than get out of town than the rickshaw Walla said the auto rickshaw needed a fill of
gas. So we filled the tank -150 rupees. Off we went, whining down the road, the old
rickshaw completely wound out. Tom was counting off the mileage markers, and I was
about ready to fall out of the rickshaw from exhaustion. The mileage markers slid by
and we crossed the Mahanadi River, as a giant-red-orbed sun was setting. The sun acted
as a backdrop to a herd of coal-black water buffalo eating in a rice paddy. Scattered
among the buffalo were snowy white egrets. I could not manage to get my camera out
quick enough and this picture-post-card scene was only an image in my mind. So, on
we went into the dusk. We finally arrive at Puri and the driver did not have the
slightest idea of how to find the South Eastern Railroad Hotel. (I cannot figure
these things out; since these people live their whole lives there). So he asked a
couple of guys who were standing around in the market place - one jumped in next to
the driver and began directing him. In short order we arrived at the South Eastern
Railroad Hotel. The Hotel was now the BNR hotel. I was thinking as Tom paid the
rickshaw Walla, I hope he doesn't give the guy any tip. But as the rickshaw Walla
and his new buddy drove away, laughing with a huge smile on their faces, I thought
to my self, "I bet that Tom gave him a big tip." As we were walking up the lane of
the hotel, Tom said, " Shit, I forgot about the 150 rupees I paid for the gas and I
gave him 300 more rupees." - That's one way to create a smile.
We found Debbie, Russ and family plus Cheryl and Fred already there and about ready
for supper. After a few hours of getting acquainted and reminiscing we hit the sack.
Then a new situation arose. Tom and I had two beds, but they were pushed together
because there was only one big mosquito net. I immediately went to sleep, completely
exhausted after the god zillion trips up and down those three flights of hospital
stairs. I woke up about 2:00 AM to dead silence. Something was definitely wrong.
Anyone that knows anything about Tom knows that his snoring will wake the dead. I
looked over at Tom and he was lying on his back, nose in the air and not making any
noise. The first thing that came to my mind was, " He died on me". I thought if I
watch his chest, I would see his chest rising and falling. I stared for about a
minute - nothing! I said to myself, "By gol he is dead." Well, I wasn't about to
start notifying the next of kin, especially after I realized I was the next of kin.
Plus, I certainly was not going to lie there all night next to a corpse, so I took my
pointer finger and jabbed him in the ribs.
If any of you would like to contribute to the purchase of the Gayatri's computer, I will
gladly accept your donations. Any amount, which may go over the purchase price, will be
sent to Vikas Deepti and the leper colonies at Bargarh. Those of you that have already
contributed, many thanks. (By the way Tom mumbled something incoherently about a pain in
his (I didn't catch the last part), he rolled over and started snoring).
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