Namaste, namaste, namaste from Charan

Today was my last day in Charan. Was a pretty challenging morning, walking down to the camp knowing that this would be the last time I see the kids. I arrived early so I sat up on the road looking down on those black tents, pondering everything that's happened around this little community and how it has impacted me. Part of me wanted to turn around and go back so I wouldn't have to say so many stupid good byes. I hate good byes.

Three army trucks rumbled past, filled with soldiers wearing camoflage and turbans. They stopped at the tail end of what looked to be a traffic jam at least a kilometer long. At the source of the congestion, two trucks faced each other head on, locked in a standstill in the middle of a single lane bridge (the other lane under construction). Behind each of the stubborn vehicles, an endless line of drivers waited patiently with blank expressions on their faces, as if this was a regular occurance. The absurdity of the situation cheered me up enough to walk to the school tent and get things rolling.

Ritu, one of my more advanced students, taught a simple lesson to the younger children. "Excellent," she praised her peers for answering a question correctly. I chuckled with pride; I taught her to say that. Ritu completed her lesson to applause from the other students (they are incredibly supportive of each other). Most of the day I had the older children take on teaching roles while I gave cueues from the sidelines. Foreign volunteers don't stick around forever, but a local community Pradhan (chief) can work wonders. I know some of the students will become teachers and leaders in Charan. Others may even take larger leadership roles within the government, if their low caste status doesn't hold them down.

After class we played a game - they made sure I won. I attempted to say some words of inspiration, thanked them for being such great students, then began my long, sad walk out of the camp. It's hard not to feel a bit choked up with three kids hanging on to my shins asking me not to leave, with another hanging onto my arm (quite good exercise, lifting kids), and a fifth trying to lift me off the ground. I should point out that the children are extremely well behaved (well, most of the time) during class; such shenanigans are not permitted until after learning time stops. I've had to do my share of scolding, too, but right then and there I felt far to warm and fuzzy to do anything but smile and laugh. Blasted kids... Leave it to them to make a softy out of me!

Along the way a gaggle of 12 year old girls (also my charming students) surrounded me and wouldn't let me leave unless I gave them my phone number in the US, even though none of them have phones and if they did they couldn't afford the long distance fees. I wish women my age fought so fiercely to get my number. Just kidding.

Kashmiri Lal, one of the community leaders, came along to say goodbye. He held his baby son in the crook of his elbow while he shook my hand with both of his. "Tell your family we wish them namaste, namaste, namaste, very much."

My boggled mind can hardly comprehend how wonderful some of the people are. They have nothing and yet they are so happy, so sincere, and so giving of themselves. Little Ajay, who shines shoes for ten cents a day, offers me his crackers; meanwhile his neighbors, who collect rubbish for less than ten cents a day, want to make me chai and cook me dinner. Half of the little ones have one parent (or none), work all day, but still show up for school with big smiles, bubbling energy and impeccable (well, most of the time) manners. To be fair, there are some unfortunate cases of alcholism, domestic abuse, and, well... Obviously there's a lot of room for improvement, but there's no harm in focusing on the positives once in a while.

I will miss Charan. Almost everything about it.