Gently the summer wind blew
On a swing he sits
Unseen he wept
Silently, for no more tears can flow
No greater sorrow has he known
Ever to compare this grief
Death, dark as a shadow upon him
Hath snatched his beloved
Only her memory lingers
Marietta’s cry from afar
Rip his heart in two
What ugly fate rise before
This sweet, innocent child
Alas! Never to know a mother’s love,
Never to hear sweet lullabies,
No one to counsel or guide
He needs to be all of those
Yet he had no strength alone
Then he saw her coming
Baby Marietta in her arms
She sits besides him silent
Gently, the summer wind blew
She of all understood his pain
And he knew why she came
“I did promise to love your child,
Long before she was born,
I come now to fulfil my vow”
As the summer wind blew
From when he met her first
Long forgotten years flash by
His first love, his true love
United in soul they were
Fate favour them once more
He knew he’ll find comfort,
In her arms again
For love of him she comes
For love of a motherless child
She remains
Her love surpasses all
Who can deny a woman’s love?
-by elizabeth haokip
Friday, June 12, 2009
a visit to mark and katy
A visit to Mark and Katy
The visit had been pending for a week. But our spirit of enthusiasm was kept alive by the bits and pieces of news that reached us through our most important source of information- the cell phone. We finally planned our visit for a Tuesday. After many stretches and groans I stumbled out of my warm bed to get ready for the visit. The temperature was typical of Delhi winter and the waiting was also typical of a JNUCF expedition (everyone waiting for one another, the coordinator glued to her cell phone, and the taxi, as always, prompt). After losing precious minutes, loaded with several cartoon boxes filled with clothes and articles that members donated generously, we headed for our destination.
The taxi ride was comfortable enough under the circumstances (seven adults crammed into a little space) thanks to the weather. So was the metro ride to Shahdara station. There you have the famous trans-Yamuna area, so often heard of but so seldom frequented. We had a delightful rickshaw ride from the metro station till Katy came to pick us up from a certain point and led us to where they stayed.
Mark and Katy and their two sons live in a one room flat on the second floor of a building in Janta colony, a slum area. But it gets plenty of “sunshine and fresh air” was what they assured us. Their room combined as a living room cum bed room cum study. On one corner was the bed (not proper elevated bed, just thick mattress on the floor) which is also a most comfortable sofa. On the walls are pictures made by their sons as well as postcards sent to them from their loved ones. To the left hand corner as you enter the door, you can see a wall of unplastered bricks forming a partition which we thought was the bathroom rather than the kitchenette it turned out to be. Mark made us all a very nice cup of chai. As we sipped the brew, we exchanged stories and names, trying to know each other better. The conversation was pleasant and touched upon topics ranging from JNU politics, to their marriage, to their kids’ school anecdotes, to their ministry. Questions and answers flowed back and forth easily. Clearly Mark and Katy were quiet open and unhesitant to our queries.
Their main purpose in living in the slum, they said, is to help bring a change in the social condition of the people in the area. They also help them gain access to facilities provided by the system, facilities which most of them in their illiterate status do not know about. They render help not financially but by giving them advice on what to do and where to go depending on their circumstances. This way they get to know a lot of people, befriending them and trying to let them realize the value of a community life free of unwanted social vices.
We decided to take a tour of the area they live in and meet certain people. We broke up into two groups: the boys (Athang, Rocco, Mauremi and Sam) went with Mark, while Katy took me and Sanjivini along. The galli was crowded and damp. Most places looked rundown and dirty. There were mud and sometimes worse things on the small path. We took a quick round of the colony, market place and living areas. On our way back Katy took us to see a lady who was sick, and whom they have been looking after. But the lady had gone to the hospital and instead of her we ended up meeting her daughters. Katy spoke in the same easy flowing manner with no difficulty in language. The area has a predominant Muslim population and greetings of “Salaam Aleikum” rang everywhere to which Katy responded. Obviously she very much blended in with the community. Then we went visiting their landlady. Here too Katy was at ease chatting to them in her uncomplicated fashion. I do not mean to exhibit an “All Praise Katy” attitude. What I have tried communicating here is that, in her, I have seen a different approach to dealing with people. Apparently Katy and her family were a novelty for the people around them initially, as she herself confesses. But soon this novelty wore off and they were accepted as part of the community. It is not easy to leave your roots and implant yourself totally in a new environment which you have only heard of. And to live there totally absorbing every aspect of that lifestyle regardless of its alien culture, is I believe, a pretty difficult task as you can imagine. But then once you do you share a perspective similar to the people around you it is so much easier to help understand their problems.
One has to remember that this area has a very low literacy rate. The people here do not have access to most governmental schemes. And here is an example of why: in order to avail of “widow pension”, the widow needs to have a ration card; you can’t apply for a ration card without having a proper address; and certificate of address is unavailable without a bank statement or a telephone bill. Now a widow living in a slum, perhaps illegally, whose house is made up of tar and with a plastic sheet for roof, and who earns just Rupees fifty per day washing clothes since she is physically handicapped, can’t possibly have in her possession a telephone bill or a bank account, can she? You can imagine the irony of the situation. Such a lady lives some metres away from Mark and Katy. They took upon themselves to help her, ran around the bureaucratic circle and finally an official from the government visited the area. He made the necessary concession and now the widow is entitled to Rupees four hundred per month drawn from the pension scheme.
Mark and Katy told us several other stories. But what has remained with us is that they are very welcome to the idea of people staying with them and helping them out in their endeavours, whether it is for a few weeks, a month or even a year. All you need is to live with them, befriend people, take them to government institutions, hospitals, and schools or try helping the youths get jobs in the private sector. It will not cost you that much other than a major chunk of your time. As we departed from the place, I could not help wondering what they gained by choosing to stay in the slum. But then I also remembered that we ought to do things not to gain something out of it, nor for personal spiritual upliftment and certainly not for the experiences, but because our Lord Jesus commands us to do so. We are called to love our brothers and our neighbors. And if you would like to follow this commandment of our Lord, I am sure a visit to Mark and Katy would just be the right step.
The visit had been pending for a week. But our spirit of enthusiasm was kept alive by the bits and pieces of news that reached us through our most important source of information- the cell phone. We finally planned our visit for a Tuesday. After many stretches and groans I stumbled out of my warm bed to get ready for the visit. The temperature was typical of Delhi winter and the waiting was also typical of a JNUCF expedition (everyone waiting for one another, the coordinator glued to her cell phone, and the taxi, as always, prompt). After losing precious minutes, loaded with several cartoon boxes filled with clothes and articles that members donated generously, we headed for our destination.
The taxi ride was comfortable enough under the circumstances (seven adults crammed into a little space) thanks to the weather. So was the metro ride to Shahdara station. There you have the famous trans-Yamuna area, so often heard of but so seldom frequented. We had a delightful rickshaw ride from the metro station till Katy came to pick us up from a certain point and led us to where they stayed.
Mark and Katy and their two sons live in a one room flat on the second floor of a building in Janta colony, a slum area. But it gets plenty of “sunshine and fresh air” was what they assured us. Their room combined as a living room cum bed room cum study. On one corner was the bed (not proper elevated bed, just thick mattress on the floor) which is also a most comfortable sofa. On the walls are pictures made by their sons as well as postcards sent to them from their loved ones. To the left hand corner as you enter the door, you can see a wall of unplastered bricks forming a partition which we thought was the bathroom rather than the kitchenette it turned out to be. Mark made us all a very nice cup of chai. As we sipped the brew, we exchanged stories and names, trying to know each other better. The conversation was pleasant and touched upon topics ranging from JNU politics, to their marriage, to their kids’ school anecdotes, to their ministry. Questions and answers flowed back and forth easily. Clearly Mark and Katy were quiet open and unhesitant to our queries.
Their main purpose in living in the slum, they said, is to help bring a change in the social condition of the people in the area. They also help them gain access to facilities provided by the system, facilities which most of them in their illiterate status do not know about. They render help not financially but by giving them advice on what to do and where to go depending on their circumstances. This way they get to know a lot of people, befriending them and trying to let them realize the value of a community life free of unwanted social vices.
We decided to take a tour of the area they live in and meet certain people. We broke up into two groups: the boys (Athang, Rocco, Mauremi and Sam) went with Mark, while Katy took me and Sanjivini along. The galli was crowded and damp. Most places looked rundown and dirty. There were mud and sometimes worse things on the small path. We took a quick round of the colony, market place and living areas. On our way back Katy took us to see a lady who was sick, and whom they have been looking after. But the lady had gone to the hospital and instead of her we ended up meeting her daughters. Katy spoke in the same easy flowing manner with no difficulty in language. The area has a predominant Muslim population and greetings of “Salaam Aleikum” rang everywhere to which Katy responded. Obviously she very much blended in with the community. Then we went visiting their landlady. Here too Katy was at ease chatting to them in her uncomplicated fashion. I do not mean to exhibit an “All Praise Katy” attitude. What I have tried communicating here is that, in her, I have seen a different approach to dealing with people. Apparently Katy and her family were a novelty for the people around them initially, as she herself confesses. But soon this novelty wore off and they were accepted as part of the community. It is not easy to leave your roots and implant yourself totally in a new environment which you have only heard of. And to live there totally absorbing every aspect of that lifestyle regardless of its alien culture, is I believe, a pretty difficult task as you can imagine. But then once you do you share a perspective similar to the people around you it is so much easier to help understand their problems.
One has to remember that this area has a very low literacy rate. The people here do not have access to most governmental schemes. And here is an example of why: in order to avail of “widow pension”, the widow needs to have a ration card; you can’t apply for a ration card without having a proper address; and certificate of address is unavailable without a bank statement or a telephone bill. Now a widow living in a slum, perhaps illegally, whose house is made up of tar and with a plastic sheet for roof, and who earns just Rupees fifty per day washing clothes since she is physically handicapped, can’t possibly have in her possession a telephone bill or a bank account, can she? You can imagine the irony of the situation. Such a lady lives some metres away from Mark and Katy. They took upon themselves to help her, ran around the bureaucratic circle and finally an official from the government visited the area. He made the necessary concession and now the widow is entitled to Rupees four hundred per month drawn from the pension scheme.
Mark and Katy told us several other stories. But what has remained with us is that they are very welcome to the idea of people staying with them and helping them out in their endeavours, whether it is for a few weeks, a month or even a year. All you need is to live with them, befriend people, take them to government institutions, hospitals, and schools or try helping the youths get jobs in the private sector. It will not cost you that much other than a major chunk of your time. As we departed from the place, I could not help wondering what they gained by choosing to stay in the slum. But then I also remembered that we ought to do things not to gain something out of it, nor for personal spiritual upliftment and certainly not for the experiences, but because our Lord Jesus commands us to do so. We are called to love our brothers and our neighbors. And if you would like to follow this commandment of our Lord, I am sure a visit to Mark and Katy would just be the right step.
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