The Road to Bhadrachalam

At around 5am on May 31st Nina and I hopped into the Qualis along with George, Tataji, Sunder, and Simon to make the long journey to the small village of Maredubaka near the city of Bhadrachalam, home of the Koya tribes. We blew our final kisses to New Hope and sadly realized as we pulled out of Bens Sathya Enclave, that it would be the last time. The trip was to take 15 hours, but due to something we like to call 'Indian Time,' making a thousand stops, lollygagging if you will, it took closer to a full day. The previous day the Qualis had spent all afternoon in the shop, but on the way we still spent an hour at a service center in the middle of nowhere, Andhra Pradesh, and two hours on the side of the road with a flat tire. (It took all I had not to step in to help the men, as tire changing is my strong suit. It turns out they were missing part of the jack.) Nina and I spent the first hour climbing trees with iguanas and watching giant wild hogs play in the swamp, and the second guzzling water and trying to keep from getting heat exhaustion underneath an outside fan. I'm pretty sure we spent the past few days in the hottest place on earth.

'Shark Cows' in the paddy behind the village

We awoke at about 2am as the vehicle crawled over rough terrain, lined with giant palms and an occasional hut. Suddenly we saw two figures standing in the road, and within minutes we were ushered into our room for the night, the village church, a thatched-palm hut, walls built semi-open from sticks spread far enough to see out and let the wind blow through. Our beds were so comfortable, homemade from four wooden posts with woven canvas straps that acted like a hammock, and the room was illuminated by a homemade kerosene lamp. We went to sleep alone, but awoke in the middle of the night to a room full of women and children, rain pouring down outside.

Eating breakfast in our hut

When we got up for the day Sreenu's wife Melanie (the couple that will be running the children's home here) came in and helped us get ready for the day. She brought us to the 'bathroom,' a sand pit surrounded by a fence of palm fronds. As we walked in she said 'urine' and gestured to the bathroom, then held up two fingers and pointed to the fields. Nina and I tried to hide our amusement, but I lost it when I stepped inside the fence and saw what I was to use for a toilet. There was a sand pit and three large stones and I looked at Nina and said 'What am I supposed to do with this?' After a few moments of attempting to muffle our laughter, she said 'Just flip over a rock, pee under it, and flip it back over!' (for a photo of the bathroom, see Nina's blog) We had no idea if that was indeed the way to do it, but the language barrier was too high to try to ask. Besides, it was pretty funny. After that, we 'bathed' with a pitcher out of a giant pot while standing on the rocks. There is no running water, and no electricity aside from one building with a small current box.

Nina under a tall palm out in a paddy

By late morning the villagers had begun to gather for the ceremony celebrating the inauguration of the children's home. It was hot, but at the last minute, Nina and I decided to don our sarees, so George sent Melanie and some other women in to help dress us. I felt really honored to be a part of such an important day for them. George, Nina, and I each got to cut a ribbon in the doorways of the thatched roof hut which will be home to thirty children, all total orphans. We were the first white people to ever set foot in their village and they were so happy that we wore their traditional dress for the occasion. At the conclusion of the inauguration, some of the adults performed a traditional Koya dance and then everyone ate a special lunch of spicy meat curry.

The New Hope Children's Home in Maredubaka, home of the Koya tribe. (The beds outside were where we slept the second night.)

The men and women performing a traditional Koya dance

The heat was oppressive, and we retreated to our hut for a long afternoon nap (while villagers and children stared at us from the doorway.) That evening we went to Melanie and Sreenu's house for dinner where I sampled some wild boar that they had hunted specifically for George's visit. He is coveted here, everywhere for that mater; he does so much for so many people that they treat him like a king. That night we brought our beds outside and slept under the stars, cooled by a fantastic breeze. The giant palm trees sounded like ocean waves with the wind passing through their fronds. We slept like babies. We awoke with the sun and set out early for some Koya villages really far out in the bush.

We had to cover some rough terrain to get to the villages, and when we got there the children ran. We are the first white people they'd ever encountered and the sight of us was frightening. They slowly started to come out of hiding, and came to retrieve the biscuits we brought for them. The children were absolutely beautiful. The needs were so great here -- there was no running water, no electricity, no proper sanitation, but more immediate were their needs for proper food and clothing.

Three Koya siblings stand with their mother

Many of the children were covered in a bubbling skin rash that looked incredibly painful, and the clothes they wore were the threadbare remains of the single set George brought them a year ago. We spoke a few words to them, translated by George into Telugu, and by Moses into Koya. (Telugu is the state language of Andhra Pradesh, Koya is the spoken language of the tribes here.)

A little tribal boy most likely suffering from a bad case of worms

The village stood about 12-13 pothole filled km from the main road. With no means of transportation, and no doctors in the village, if someone needs hospitalization, they must create a makeshift gurney out of two wooden posts and old strips of fabric, and walk that distance carrying them. Since medical attention is so hard to obtain, many parents do not get treated and die, leaving their children orphaned. It is a sad fact, and it leaves an overwhelming feeling of helplessness if you let what that means really seep in. There is so much that these people need, not in the form of imparting our ways of life on them, but in basic needs -- food, shelter, medical care. When there is so much to do, where do you start?

The Villagers

The answer is love. You start with love. You give them a smile and make them feel safe. You fill their bellies before you try to help them change their lives. You meet their needs and help educate them so that they can transform their village's future generations. The task of this transformation is daunting. The change itself isn't up to us. As outsiders, we can help to provide the means, but the rest is up to them.

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I feel so blessed that I have been given all of these amazing opportunities. This last one, coming to stay with the Koya people, being welcomed into their village, treated as family, and to see firsthand the ways of people that are so different from my own, has been absolutely incredible. This is something I must keep doing, I cannot allow myself to become jaded or easily fall back into my comfortable life west of here. I need to keep submerging myself in this and trying to make a difference. I have been given so much and I feel that it is my responsibility and my purpose to go forth with that excess and help someone else. I don't know where or when my next move will be, but I don't need to, because when the time is right my next opportunity will be presented to me.

I know I will accept it with vigor.