Dirty Wall Project

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December  2009 Victoria ,BC, Canada

After the Sarwar health camp, my time in Jaipur and India was coming to an end for now . I am joining my  family in Victoria for what will be the first  Christmas I have spent in Canada for many years. 

With Christmas around the corner, I wanted to do a few more things for the children of Udayan.(see Udayan post)   Jaimila had mentioned that the stock of medicine at the orphanage was running low. The orphanage currently has 56 children and 10 staff members.  Because the orphanage is in a rural location emergency medical care is difficult. Last week a young boy climbing a fence injured his arm badly and needed immediate hospital care.  Another young girl had fallen and bumped her head quite badly.  Kids will be kids and the fact that they are allowed to run free at Udayan is part of the charm of this special place, but there are also inevitable injuries.

During a meeting with Jaimila and Hitesh and a wholesale medicine provider we worked over a list of general medicines the orphanage needed. Bandages, cough syrups, and pain medications were put on the list.  After a lengthy discussion the medicine provider left with the list of medical supplies the orphanage needed and was to call me in a few hours with a price.

Working with Jaimila and Hitesh over the last few months we have developed an enduring friendship.  They invited me to their house for dinner to discuss what Vatsalya and DWP had accomplished. We had a great evening of conversation and great food.  Arriving by auto rickshaw at the Gupta house I was greeted by Jaimlia. The evening would turn out to be a great think-tank as Delta Donahue from NCIF (a long-standing American NGO) who has worked with Udayan’s orphanage, and Sarah Andrews of Edge of Seven (a new NGO that organizes volunteers from around the world) were also at the house for dinner.  DWP is vastly different from all three of these organizations. We all have different opinions as to how and who should benefit from our different organizations. Much was discussed and it was a great opportunity for all of us to learn from each other.

Before I left for Jaimila and Hitesh’s house, the medicine provider phoned me with price for the list of medical supplies the orphanage needed. Once again I was amazed at the figure he presented. 8900 INR or $202 CAD would be enough to supply and re-stock Udayan’s medicine bank, providing the children and staff with preventative and emergency medications for the coming months. I agreed on the price and arranged for the medications to be delivered to their house during dinner that evening. 

With Christmas coming and DWP’s bank account slowly getting smaller, I felt it was time to head back home to regroup, fundraise and come back stronger in the new year.

I boarded the Mumbai/Jaipur Superfast Express train. There was 1200 km’s and 19 hrs of Indian rail lines between me and Mumbai and my flight home. The last seat on the train that I could get was in the 2nd class air-conditioned car. It should mean that I have my own vinyl bunk in an open car with lots of people to share my personal space. It turned out that I also had to share my bunk. There would be no sleeping lying down as my bunk mate and I had to share the same bunk, sitting cross-legged for the entire journey. There was lots of chai and samosas offered for  a few rupees, the sound of the train clacking down the tracks and a view of India out my window. It would be bearable.

I woke at sunrise the next morning as we entered Mumbai’s city limits. I sat in the doorway of the train watching the big city unfold around me. Much of the city’s poor lives in and around Mumbai’s vast network of train lines. Shanty-style dwellings made of corrugated steel and blue tarps line the rails. Men and women use the the rail lines as their toilets. As the train rumbles by, people dot the way. Children wave, women sit hunched over morning fires and men fetch water from beyond the tracks.

DWP’s first 3 months working in India has been fraught with frustration and amazement and has been a constant learning curve for me.

Here is a summary of what DWP has accomplished over the last few months…

• Over 1700 people have been examined and given free medicines.
• 150 people blood tested for HIV/Aids.
• 10 sessions of kidney dialysis given to patients.
• 250 meals and snacks served.

These are DWP’s major contributions with numerous smaller endeavours also accomplished and one project currently underway in Jaipur, Rajasthan.

I have since arrived home to Victoria, buzzing with ideas for the Dirty Wall Project and excited about it’s future.  With several ideas and new projects in the works DWP is set for an exciting year ahead.

Throughout January and February I will be fundraising and preparing for my return on March 4th.

A brand new photograph exhibit  will be opening on Feb. 15th  at Sally Bun (1030 Fort St. Victoria) with all new photos from DWP’s first working trip to India, coupled with an event sometime in mid to late February.

This has been an amazing adventure so far.  The first few months have been an intense learning curve and I find myself in a much better position upon returning to India. Much of my time previously was spent learning how things work and establishing contacts.  This time I will return to India prepared with the knowledge of what DWP can contribute.

I’m  grateful to all of the Dirty Wall supporters as you’ve enabled me to be the messenger of your kindness…

To an exciting future….

Sincerely,

Kane Ryan

dirtywallproject@gmail.com

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December 2009   Ajmer District,  Sarwar Village,  Rajasthan

Over the last few months I have been working with the long distance truckers who are the bridge population carrying and spreading STD’s and HIV/Aids throughout India.  I was also eager to set up health camps with India’s female sex workers.

Dubbed the oldest profession in the world, female sex workers are a high-risk group for contracting STD’s and HIV. According to the National Aids Control Organization 2.5 million people have  HIV/Aids in India.

In most of the developing and developed countries I have travelled in, sex workers seem to be out in the open and more visible. In my time traveling in India, I haven’t been aware of prostitutes as they are more hidden, but very much there for those in the know.

One hundred and fifty kilometers south of Jaipur is Ajmer District and the Village of Sarwar.  Sarwar has a high population of sex workers. Rajasthan State Aids Society (RSACS) and Vatsalya have been working with the Village providing education, counselling and medical advice. Today, Dirty Wall Project and Vatsalya gathered at the office and after loading medicines into our jeep, the ten of us piled in for the two-hour drive south. Squished, cramped and happy we passed every motorized vehicle ever made from two wheels to twelve wheels.  Fifty kilometers from Sarwar we picked up three more men. They are local counselors and peer educators from the area.

A week earlier I had asked if it was possible to get a woman counselor, as we would be attending to the needs of women. India is a male dominated country and after much discussion my request was denied. They claim that women were more comfortable speaking with men. I disagree, as I believe women would be more comfortable speaking with a woman especially given the context to be discussed. This will be an argument I won’t lose for the next camp.

With thirteen people now in the jeep, we continued on our way passing goat herders, water buffalo and farming communities.

Sarwar is an urban village consisting of mainly one or two level buildings with a mix of both Muslim and Hindu residents. Groups of children followed our jeep as we neared the campsite.

Our camp today was in a one level unfinished building made of brick consisting of three rooms and a staircase to nowhere.  Inside women sat on the floor in a mix of brightly colored saris. Whispers and giggles echoed off the brickwork as I entered carrying our medicines. RSACS had also sent three people down to work with us administering blood tests.

The team expected to see 60-70 people during the camp but that number was soon exceeded. Women and curious children filled every room of the small building and we were filling prescriptions hand over fist immediately.

I had invited Dr. Ruth Kornfield  who I had met at my guesthouse, to come with us to this camp. She is a seasoned traveller and a researcher of HIV/Aids. She also works as a consultant to large NGO’s from every corner of the globe.  Ruth and I were invited into the home of one of Vatsalya’s peer educators who is also a current sex worker. She showed us the modest home she shares with her family. The room where she works is painted a pale blue with posters of male Bollywood stars. Over the course of an hour, with Omprakesh and Pradeep translating, we were able to ask her questions regarding her profession and well being.

Her husband is a long distance trucker who is away for three weeks at a time. Her daughter is also a sex worker. When asked about condoms, she stated that she refuses sex without a condom. I asked her if she ever faces abuse or problems when refusing a customer who wishes for unprotected sex. She answered with a silent shake of the head. There was a quiet sadness to this lady and I believe there were things she wished not to speak of. My help was needed back at the camp and I left Ruth and Pradeep to ask more questions as I felt she might relax with less of a crowd in her small room.

When I returned to the camp the Doctors were in full swing and Dr. Rahul called to me. In his usual jovial way he asked why I make him work so hard as he pointed to a line of women snaking into the next room.  I pointed to the waiting room where thirty more women sat and waited.  With a cheeky smile and something mumbled in Hindi to the woman he was examining he continued on.

The local paper had sent a reporter to the camp. Pradeep, Omprakesh and I wrote a quick press release detailing our involvement.  The reporter took a few photos and he left to file the story.

Children had come from all over the village and we had to close the metal gates to keep the camp somewhat under control. A local teacher from the area asked me to come with him. As we walked to his home, children pulled on my shirttails and circled curiously around us. He was very eager to show me his home and his cows of which he was very proud. Through a small archway sat two large cows and a newborn calf.  After marveling over his cows, he introduced me to his sons and offered me chai. Sipping the chai he thanked me profusely for coming to his village and providing free medicines.

The daylight hours were soon ending and we had a 160km drive ahead of us.  But, before we were to leave we had been invited to the sacred Mazar (tomb) of Hazrat Khwaja Fakhruddin, a great saint and scholar.  Pradeep, myself and twenty giggling children walked while the rest of the team rode in the jeep.  A new batch of children followed me as I was shown around. Upon entering a Muslim tomb men must cover their heads. I had nothing to cover my head until a boy of about 7 years of age offered me his skullcap. I accepted his offering and after several attempts to get it over my large head, I placed it on top of my head, much to the joy of the children surrounding me.  After being lead through large silver doors I entered a beautifully adorned room. The ceiling’s centerpiece is a massive crystal chandelier hanging seven feet from the ceiling.  A beautiful green tapestry adorned with Muslim symbols hung from the roof. Worshippers form a single line and as I got close to the silver altar, a man roughly washed my face with a broom made of peacock feathers.  Upon reaching the altar and bending at my knees, a blanket was then pulled over top of me as I pressed my palms and forehead to the marble floor. A Muslim man chanted and beat a rhythym on my back until he decided it was the next man’s turn. Leaving the room I found my small friend and returned his scull cap and nothing but a smile was asked for in return.

A large crowd had gathered at the front of the temple as Omprakesh started the jeep. More than fifty men, women and children grabbed and pulled at us making a quick exit impossible. Omprakesh maneuvered his way through the crowd and I jumped on the back of the jeep, finding a seat on the spare tire.  We drove through the narrow streets, people waved and stared and we felt as though we were in a parade. The jeep gathered speed and I held on for dear life.  Although this is a dangerous way to travel, men are always seen hanging from vehicles on the roads here and it provides an ideal way of seeing the country side but also a scary first hand view of impending danger.

Eighty kilometers from Jaipur we pulled off the main highway once again and onto a dirt road. Four low level buildings sat in the middle of flat, parched brown earth.  As we got closer I ducked my head into the jeep to inquire where we were going. The jeep came to a sudden stop and a cloud of dust and dirt covered the jeep and me. Omprakesh jumped out and told me that this was a brothel. Vatsalya has one peer educator here and he wanted to show me another side of the sex worker’s trade.

The sun was setting and gave the area a purple hue as children emerged from around the building and women stood in the doorways. The scene seemed surreal to me. As we reached the buildings women and some very young girls holding children of their own came to speak to us. These four buildings in the middle of nowhere are a self-contained community of sex workers. Children play in between the buildings and chase dogs across the dirt yard while women sit hunched over small fires cooking dinner.

Pradeep and I walked further in and he showed me where the women take their customers.  The rooms were small, bare, with tiny crooked beds and an appalling lack of cleanliness. This is not only their brothel but also their home.  Children are raised, meals are prepared and eaten and lives are lived in these conditions.  While I was standing there, two men entered the yard and began speaking to a young woman of about eighteen.  They were negotiating on a price and which one of the females would service them. Pradeep told me depending on age and beauty, a woman can go for as little as $1 Canadian.

Vatsalya routinely drops off medicine and condoms to the women here and I could see that there was a good rapport between the groups. I felt that it wasn’t appropriate to take pictures here.

One thing that I have come to notice during my time in India is the brutal honesty about everything. With a billion people in their country, privacy is not a luxury they are granted.  Every faction of their lives is lived in full view of others. I find this very humbling and difficult to witness. In westernized countries we cover up our problems and hide them from view.

India has many problems, but if you’re willing to help, the people of India are willing to show you their lives for better or worse.

As we piled back into the jeep I claimed my spot on the rear tire and looking back I saw women and children smiling and waving.

India – forever humbling.

Stats for the day

• 171 women were examined and given free medicine.

• 70 women were blood tested for HIV

• the total cost – 14,400 INR or $327 CAD

Sincerely,

Kane Ryan

dirtywallproject@gmail.com

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12►

November 2009,  VKI Industrial Area, Jaipur, Rajasthan

Waking this morning at seven a.m., I headed back out to the VKI Industrial Area to help everyone prepare the schoolyard for the Trucker’s Gala.  Early mornings are chilly here and my open-air rickshaw offered little relief from the cold.

Arriving at the Kushi Clinic, I saw men emerging sleepy-eyed from their trucks. Vendors stirred steaming pots of chai and another day in India had begun.

I entered the clinic only to realize that everyone was already busy working down at the school where the Trucker’s Gala would be held. I walked the two blocks to the school and was instantly amazed by the transformation. The team had been very busy since I left the site 12 hours earlier. A beautiful archway had been constructed, green matting covered the dirt yard and a red carpet ran from the entrance to the main stage. A young girl drew beautiful colored powder designs called Rangolis at the entrance to welcome guests.  There was excitement in the air.  Pradeep was eager to show me what work had been done since I had left. Workers hung colored ribbons from the tents and promotional banners from the major sponsors were being displayed. Mukesh ran across the yard carrying the Dirty Wall Project’s (DWP) new banners and a cheeky grin. He had pulled some strings and had driven all over town to get the banners made in time and was excited to show them to me. The banners looked great and we hung them immediately. It was amazing to see the Dirty Wall Project logo alongside the large corporate sponsors.

Doctors began arriving and setting up their stations. All aspects of healthcare were covered today. The TCI (Transport Company of India) had sent two female doctors to counsel and to administer blood tests.  Jaipur’s largest ENT hospital had sent Dr. Faruq who has worked with DWP on our previous IOC camps. Eye Specialists, General Physicians (Dr. Parihar) and STD Specialists were present. Dr. Rajesh Pasricha from Bhagwan Maheveer Cancer and Research Hospital had a booth providing information on cancer related illnesses.

We began setting up our tables where we would fill and distribute DWP’s free medicines. Outside the school gates a cycle rickshaw with attached microphone was promoting the day’s events to the surrounding areas while two members of Kavach (see Avahan) were handing out pamphlets to passers by.

I climbed up to the roof of the school and looked down as people zigzagged across the yard putting the finishing touches on their respective booths.  Outside the gates buses were packed to the roof with morning commuters with numerous men hanging outside the doors as the buses rocked, squeaked and wheezed diesel into the air. The national highway overpass runs fifty metres from the school with a continuous stream of trucks carrying goods south.

Our first patients were now in the yard and it wasn’t long before we filled our first prescription.

To help promote the camp a young man with a pair of stilts was hired and I walked with him as he handed out pamphlets. The site of a ten-foot tall boy and a blond haired foreigner walking the street was hard for anyone to ignore.

Inside, the health portion of the camp was in full swing with all of our doctors seeing patients and plenty of people wandering the yard.  Maasti, an Indian condom company had arrived and set up a booth. I assumed that condoms would be provided for free, but soon learned otherwise. I inquired as to how much each box of condoms was and ended up buying five boxes for a total of 5oo condoms, all for 540 INR or $12.50 CAD. I dropped the condom boxes off at each of the doctor’s stations. Condoms would now be free to whoever wanted them.

To bring some fun to the day several games and activities were planned including what proved to be the most popular…the “Trucker Arm Wrestle” competition.

All morning, groups of men gathered around a wooden table while a Kushi Clinic staff member gave a play by play via megaphone to the delight of all the men. Smiles, laughter and cheering could be heard across the yard.  As I was taking pictures of the crowd the newest champion challenged me to the table. Fearing a loss, but too embarrassed to back down, I entered the circle amidst cheers and clapping as forty young truckers watched eagerly. The crowd was silent as the countdown began. After what I thought was a valiant struggle on my part, I lost to Balo. He was immediately immortalized for beating the foreigner and with a smile from ear to ear Balo rushed towards me with open arms. Beaten, hugged and hands shook, I left Balo to defend his title.

The team had gathered at the front of the yard as one of the distinguished guests, the CEO of TCI had arrived for the opening ceremony and ribbon cutting.  After the ribbon was cut each member of the team including me had a red dot placed in the middle of our forehead. Pieces of rice were then pressed into the wet dot and with a flick of water the camp was official.

While Omprakesh showed him around I decided to help promote the camp. With a stack of pamphlets under my arm I headed towards the street.  Cynthia, a biology major and pre-med student from San Diego who is in India working with Vatsalya on HIV related issues had arrived and was eager to help. Together with two Kushi Clinic staff members we set out on foot handing out fliers and telling the locals of the camp and the entertainment available. These are incredibly poor neighborhoods and I would wager a guess that we were the first foreigners to work in the area. Smiling children came up to us as curious adults stood around trying to figure us out. We wandered in and out of shops and stalls and through the truck yards speaking to anyone that would listen.

Back at the camp a local news channel had sent a video camera to the event and I followed him as he shot footage of the camp in action. By lunchtime our nurses had filled over 300 prescriptions with hundreds more examined by the camp’s Doctors.

Huge pots of potato curry and rotis were delivered and the team and I sat behind the main stage devouring our meal and sharing some laughs. Continuing where we left off, lineups of patients resumed and a hum of activity filled the schoolyard. Speakers and lighting equipment started to arrive and the electrician began gearing up for the night’s performances. By five p.m., our doctors and nurses tired and all the medicines gone, we tallied the final patient count as musicians and dancers set up on the main stage.

During the setup anyone and everyone was encouraged to dance or sing on stage. Several men and young children sang their favorite Rajasthani songs in varying scales of ability. Groups of men took turns gyrating to Hindi pop songs to the delight of friends and onlookers. A DJ played excessively loud Hindi techno and pop songs as the sun dropped behind Jaipur and over 1000 people filled the courtyard occupying every seat available.

Several prizes had been donated by JK Tyre, TCI and Vatsalya and were to be handed out to the day’s competition winners. My main responsibility for the evening was to capture the festivities from behind my camera.  As I was taking photographs, I heard “Mr. Kane” being called to the stage. I was to hand out the prizes to the respective winners alongside the General Managers of the corporate sponsors. Everyone was in their Sunday best, wearing suits and formal wear. I was in jeans and flip-flops, making me stand out from the crowd even more.

Another ribbon cutting ceremony took place on stairs leading to the stage followed by speeches from the CEO’s including Dr. Hitesh Gupta of Vatsalya.  Dr. Hitesh was kind enough to speak of the Dirty Wall Project’s involvement here in Jaipur.

Throughout the night dance groups strutted on stage in unison wearing outrageous Bollywood costumes entertaining the crowd.  Local funny men, young singers and one particularly energetic 12-year-old boy danced his heart out on stage.  After hours of speeches and entertainment, the night was drawing to a close.

Vatsalya and the Kushi Clinics entire team consisting of more than twenty people took the stage for one final thanks.  After a round of applause for the team’s effort, the DJ blared a Hindi pop song and an impromptu dance involving everyone on stage took place. For several minutes the team bounced, spun and gyrated to raucous applause.

Once the crowd was gone, the team stood and a sense of relief was shared. That moment quickly passed as we realized that a massive cleanup was next on the agenda.  We packed up hundreds of chairs, took down our banners and then hopped on motorbikes headed to a celebratory dinner. Twenty-five of us crowded into a local restaurant and ate a delicious vegetarian meal.

By the end the day the Dirty Wall Project  supplied 526 people with free medications, bringing our total in the last month to 1400 people served.

With more projects planned in the coming week this number will rise and it is all thanks to the Dirty Wall Project supporters.

Thank you very much,

Kane Ryan

(dirtywallproject@gmail.com)

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