30 March 2014 – A Breath Before Leaving

Sunday morning. About 8 my time. I have just turned on BBC Radio 3, which is the classical music station. Nothing quite like that for a Sunday morning. I sometimes think it strange how Sunday morning always ‘feels’ different – no matter which country I am in and even before churches etc have started. Even here when Friday is the important Mosque day (40% Muslim), Sunday is still the day that feels different. All I need now, as I used to say to Nicolas, a Frenchman, is croissants and coffee!

Maybe I need to go to some other countries!

*****

You know something? No-one else but myself takes a blind bit of notice of my schedule! I cannot understand why they are not as interested in it as am I!

*****

A week at Chingari: (ignore my spelling of the names)

  



Khattek is one of the older children. He arrives in the second batch of busses and makes his way to our room. His legs are folded under him and of little use. He swings along using his hands and this is making his spine rounded. He also has some spondylosis which of course does not help. He has a wonderful smile.

Zoya has also seen me every day. She is a young hyper-active child, doesn’t speak and also has weak musculature. Initially she wanted to play but I have managed to have her lie down for a short time, as you see. She is more interested in the camera of course!

This little boy, Manmohan Singh, is about a metre tall and 10 years old. He is a bright lad for his age but suffers with Muscular Dystrophy (MD) and Hydrocephalus. That is his mother with him on the left and his little sister. I think he shows an amazing calmness – Rishi treats him on most days.

Amman is another of the (seemingly increasing) number of boys with MD. He is the left-most boy, just to the right of the sports teacher. This may look like just a board game but it involves flicking a disk with a finger to knock another disk into a corner pocket. They used to play it at Sambhavna. So it is good practice at hand-eye coordination as well as exercise for the fingers which are often among the most affected muscle groups.

This Friday, Huma and Rishi were messing with my hat so I have to show them here:

Huma

and

Rishi

20 March – it’s another Holi-day

(Written on 20^th but unable to upload because internet not working!)

I am returned now from Vietnam and, thank you for asking, had a really good time. I was on a Body Harmony conference/workshop which attracted many people from that side of the globe. (Does the globe have sides? – Well, I use it as a manner of speaking/writing.) There were a few old friends from Europe, I was the lone UK representative, but many from Australia and couple from Thailand.

If you want to know more about Body Harmony, you will have to ask me elsewhere and/or request a session on my return to UK, as this blog is about my work and life in Bhopal and not me personally. But here are a couple of pictures of Vietnam.

Our Hotel

The group Gathers

My Son Valley

*****

5 decorated volunteers!

I came back on Sunday to a public holiday on Monday for the Festival of Colours, Holi, and such things in India seem to take on their own life and extend in indeterminate ways to their maximum extreme! So today, a Friday it is the ‘5 days after Holi’ festival which takes place only in certain regions of India, Bhopal being one of them.

Both Sambhavna and Chingari are closed which is why I am writing this today, though I may not get it posted since there is no internet access, as there wasn’t last night. Our routers are working so it must be the provider’s server that is out.

It has been a funny week. Monday was the ‘proper’ Holi festival with a Government holiday when we went out and got coloured and then had a picnic with a large family on the grass outside the main Shiva temple, high on a hill with lovely views over the city.

On Tuesday I went to Chingari to start and met the two new (since my last trip) physiotherapists then to the Collector’s office to see about my visa but the young man dealing with that was absent at a Holi event.

Outside the offices is a row of shelters where sit people, some probably lawyers, with typewriters, writing letters and completing forms for people who cannot read or write. This is a common sight in India where forms are almost a way of life. In Sambhavna, one frequent task is the writing of letters to hospitals on behalf of one of our patients.

On Wednesday I returned to the office as requested and spent most of the afternoon there seeing the Deputy Inspector General (the DIG) and the, new, Superintendent of Police discussing the extension of a tourist visa. All the other visas can be easily extended by the local office but tourist visa must be done by the government office so is more complicated and takes much longer. “Why?” You might ask. “Why?” I did.

Thursday was a more-or-less normal day at the Chingari centre which, I may have mentioned, gives treatments therapy and education to children born with disability as a result of their parents exposure to the gas, the water or both. We are 2 or 3 generations down the line and, if anything, the rate of disability is increasing.

I saw only 4 children as attendance was light because of the extension to Holi. A little hyperactive girl with weak musculature and 3 boys, one with Cerebral Palsy (CP) and two with Muscular Dystrophy (MD). MD afflicts only boys.

(Sorry about the random placing of the pictures, but I cannot work out how to do it properly in this googly limited word processor)

I will post more pictures of the children as they become more familiar and it won’t disrupt us. These are from my previous visit.

*****

Summer, or fiery spring, has arrived in Bhopal. When I left just over 2 weeks ago it was getting warm but only just warm enough at 0730 to start my yoga practice. Now, at 0730 it’s almost too hot to continue! The cold water is luke warm. Katrina tells me that the web gives it as 36°C. She is really suffering and as the temperature rises so does hers. She is talking about going north to a cooler part of India.

These pictures are taken from the same place just three months apart, you can’t feel the cold or heat but you can see the light.

*****

Listening to Jean Michel Jarre; 1976, Oxygene - who remembers?