Nithin and His Many Naps

As my days at New Hope are growing shorter, I thought I'd pay tribute to one of my best little buddies here. I have written at length about Nithin, the runt of the bunch, the cry baby, the one that needs a little extra love. We have gotten really close and it is going to be especially hard to say goodbye to this short stack. He's a humorous little guy; he can make anyone laugh, and he melts my heart with his adoring smile and plentiful kisses. There is one thing to remember about Nithin -- he needs his rest. Beware if he doesn't get it, but most likely he will find a way, whenever and wherever the mood strikes. So here's to you Nithin, you and your many naps.

Update

Right after the previous post was written Nithin was taken out of our care because he was getting 'too attached.' This is bogus to me, and I can't help but feel really frustrated by it. He has made incredible behavioral, emotional, and linguistic progress since we have been taking care of him and given him the individual attention he needs. The way I see it, he is going to have a hard time when we leave here whether he is staying with us until then or not. Why should we be forced to withhold compassion and attention from the child who would benefit most from it? I was really burned by the news and sat and stewed a while, but once I realized there was nothing I could do about it, I played hopscotch with the girls and started to feel a bit better. (Even if I could only look longingly to my little buddy across the dividing wall.)

Night Howl

After a relaxing beach holiday, we came back to New Hope and our rickshaw was greeted by smiling and excited faces. It was welcoming and so cute, but slightly and immediately overwhelming. They all wanted a piece of us the second we walked in the door, trying to settle in and unpack after a 12 hour bus ride. I tried to fight it, but rather than feeling excited to be back, I was frustrated by a number of things. Home less than a day, I plucked a bug out of my hair and was immediately put in a rotten mood. The day went on to feature several bathroom accidents, bug infestations, and foul smells wafting from all over. I know that I only have a month left with these kids and I really want to enjoy it, to soak up the last days I have with them and cherish every second. Sometimes it's hard to do that in the moment when you're changing and washing the 5th set of pee-pee pants and battling a forcefield of flies outside (and inside) because no matter how many times you tell them, the kids wont stop leaving food all over the ground when they wash their plates at the spigot outside our door. Or when you have to pretend not to see the giant cockroaches out of the corner of your eye, or politely pluck the insect out of your food and tell yourself it's just burnt rice. I don't get too easily grossed out, but when you are constantly surrounded by filth, it starts to wear on you.

I had just turned out the light around midnight when the howling began. It was Nithin of course, and at first we tried to ignore it since Nina and I tend to exacerbate the problem due to his attachment to us. Finally, when it only grew louder and no one else went to tend to the issue, I went out to calm him. I walked out into the next room where the floor was strewn with slumbering bodies, the smallest one whimpering and writhing like a dog with an itchy back. The second I lifted him from the ground the sobbing ceased. His breathing slowed, peppered with the hiccupy gasps of a child who cries so much they cant catch their breath. I couldn't help but notice how peaceful he became just laying in my arms. There was nothing wrong, he just woke up scared and lonely and wanted to be clutched close to a warm body who's love he could feel enveloping him. I gently rocked the little boy in my arms as he clung to me like a baby koala and I began to realize that it is moments like this that are what I am really going to miss. Simple moments where I feel that my presence is really needed, or maybe just coveted, the moments where all I can hear is the whirring fan and the shallow breathing of this beautiful child sleeping soundly in my arms, the contours of his perfect little face barely visible in the moonlight. And in that moment I cant bear to think of the fact that after I leave here, I may never see him again.

When I loosened my grip and attempted to lay him down amongst the girls, he grasped at me desperately and the sobbing began again. I knew that everyone else's sleep was dependent on my keeping him quiet, so after a few more unsuccessful attempts to get him back to bed with the rest, I carried him to our room and set him on a mat on the floor. Silently and immediately he curled up and slept soundly for the rest of the night, waking only once with a whimper but after hearing my voice hush him, instantly slept again. As he lay there next to my bed I realized something. To this little boy, I represent safety. He doesn't even need to be cradled next to my body to feel that security, just knowing I am there soothes his anxieties. In the next room, placed between the other children, he writhed around shaking, hyperventilating, flapping his hands and squirming violently in some sort of toddler panic attack. But here, no more than ten feet away from where he lay before, resting beside my bed and knowing that I am near he sleeps like a baby. As an aunt, teacher, coach, and caregiver, I have represented safety to a child before (though usually a child with at least one parent to rely on.) I am there to catch them if they fall, feed them when they are hungry, change them when they are wet, and can be depended upon when something goes wrong. But the safety that I represent for Nithin is different. He is scared. Scared of being left, because he has been left before, scared of waking up alone because he has so many times, scared to be without comfort and affection because he knows what that deprivation feels like. He relies on us for everything and that dependence terrifies me. In a month I will leave New Hope. In a couple months I will be back in the United States. But Nithin will still be here. I wont have any control over what happens to him, wont know how much or how little love and affection he is getting, wont be able to shield and protect him from cruelty or someone else's misdirected resentment. The helplessness I will soon feel for this child whom I care so much about is frightening.

Nithin where he would prefer to sleep if I let him - in my bed.

Though sometimes it feel like the moments of frustration outweigh the ones of bliss, I find myself wondering how I am going to just go on without these children. How will I get by without those grubby little hands grabbing my head and pulling it down to plant kisses all over my face? I have never met a child who is so utterly grateful for my presence and whom I provide so much security for just by simply existing here with him. I see the anxiety he feels with us just in the next room and it worries me for the future. I know what anxiety feels like but I can't imagine the magnitude of it for a child barely older than a baby who already feels so alone. I can't withhold my affection and comfort just because I am leaving soon and know he will then be without it. I simply can't justify that. But I am afraid that when we leave, he just might crumble.

And Then There Was One.

Yesterday we had some parents show up unexpectedly to claim their children. Swetha's mother came in the morning to collect her for the remainder of summer break, and during the afternoon nap time, Nithin and Nishmitha's mother arrived. There was a meeting upstairs with George and the other caretakers about whether or not she could take them. The mother of these two is irresponsible and self-centered, and as stated in a previous post, left them here initially because they were a 'hindrance to her happiness.' I can't help but feel guarded and suspicious when she comes, watching her like a hawk, as I have become increasingly protective over these two. After all, we take care of them every day, doing everything a mother does for them from bathing to potty training, hiney wiping, dressing, laundry, feeding, and tucking them in at night. She will show up randomly, fill them full of biscuits and juice, and after 45 minutes or so, casually saunter off as they stand sobbing at the gate. She doesn't get excited to see them, cuddle, play with, or love on them during her visits as one might expect. In the past she has come and refused to see Nithin, only Nishmitha. I don't understand her, and I have to feel pity for her for not knowing what she is missing out on, and for whatever has caused her to treat her own children this way. They are so special and bring delight to anyone they meet, but she can't even look beyond her own selfish desires to see what amazing little creatures she has created. These children are human beings, they need structure, stability, discipline, care, and above all else, love and compassion. They aren't dolls that you can pretend with when you feel like playing the part, and then stick in the toybox when you don't feel like being Mommy anymore.

(above photo: Nishmitha and Nithin goofing around at nap time)

This time she came and wanted to take Nishmitha, and only Nishmitha, home for a week. At the meeting, the caretakers and George told her she could not take just one of her kids, explaining the emotional damage it could cause the already severely distressed Nithin. Finally she accepted and left toting the two smiling children by the hand, excited to finally feel wanted by their mother. I can only imagine what it is like for them at home, and pray that they, especially Nithin, aren't being neglected and are receiving the love that they so desperately need from their mother. I couldn't help but wonder to myself, did she even notice he had a black eye?

And then there was Nakshathra. Poor Nakshathra, the only girl left in the house. I feel sad for her, knowing that all of her friends are off with their families when she doesn't have one. Occasionally her sister will visit, but the last time she took Nakshathra and her brother Ganesh, they were gone for a year, living on the streets acting as nannies for her own children. Due to her selfishness, they missed out on a year of school, a proper home, and much needed physical and emotional nourishment.

Nakshathra jamming out to Loverboy on my ipod. I think she likes it as much as I do!

Nina and I are on a mission to replenish that nourishment in any way we can. She has come leaps and bounds with her english, now reading small books when she barely knew the alphabet a few short months ago. But more importantly, we have smothered her with love and made it our priority to show her how special she really is -- that even if she doesn't have family, she is never alone, that there are so many people who love her, and that we wouldn't have hesitated to come all this way even if she was the only one here. That being said, Nakshathra is about to be spoiled rotten....friendship bracelets, ice cream sundaes, movies, nail polish, crafts, hanging out in our room whenever she wants.... We are going to turn what could be a sad and lonely time for her into one in which she is the center of attention, because when all the other kids get back, there wont be as much of our attention to go around. We go to the boys room often to eat meals, watch movies, play games, or make crafts so she is with the rest of the 'family,' and around other kids.

Nakshathra and her ruby red smile after a make-up session

My goal is to leave here having been a big contributor to the confidence, happiness, and love that we have already begun to see from the once quiet, sad, and subdued Nakshathra. We are making progress and are hopeful and confident that she will continue to flourish and grow through love and learning. That is real nourishment. Now if only we could get some meat on her bones..

The Aftermath of a Mean Old Woman

It was a good call to stay home when everyone went to Mysore, because we made a couple of good saves. Amma was left in charge of the kids, and with her irrationality, that is just a recipe for disaster. At about 8:30 am while the girls were doing their chores and before we went next door for games, I heard those haunting sounds again. After what we had witnessed between Amma and Nithin just a day or two before (see previous post, Smackdown on a Smackdown) I quickly got Nina and we went next door to see what was going on. We went up to the boys room where Nithin had been staying since we caught her beating him, and there she was, at it again. Nithin sat bellowing on a cot, while she towered over him on some sort of twisted power trip. Nina didn't skip a beat and without saying a word, marched in, grabbed Nithin and took him next door with us. When we got ahold of him we noticed something truly sickening. Around his left eye was a swollen shiner, Amma induced. We felt ill and began to realize the true severity of the situation. I'm sorry, but you have got to have some serious issues to give a helpless toddler a black eye. Though everyone was enjoying their day off, I called George to tell him what had happened, and he told us to keep Nithin with us. Amma gave us death stares and major attitude all day long, but we didn't care, he wasn't leaving our sight.

Nithin and his Amma-induced black eye

Later that night she came into our house with dinner for the girls and proceeded to hoot and holler in Telegu, which Ganga later told us was about us, how she has taken so much care of Nithin and then we come along and he cries when we leave so she beats him, blah blah blah. I'm sorry but I don't give a damn, no one hurts a child like that and gets away with it, I don't care if you're from India or Russia or Timbuktu. She is a mean old woman, crotchety and ill-equipped to work with children. Her behavior is completely and utterly unacceptable. Luckily, these thoughts weren't ours alone. We were worried that the other staff members would think that we were making a big deal out of it because we are Americans, but they whole-heartedly agreed with us and hopefully some strict action will be taken.

But just because he is out of her care, doesn't mean the scars she has left on him have disappeared. Nithin's behavioral progression has regressed, we presume due to his abuse issues from Amma as he cringes when she is near and you can physically see how scared he is of her. He had a bathroom accident yesterday (appropriately we once again had no running water in the house) and had another mishap this morning. He woke up crying several times in the middle of the night, and finally at 4 am, tired of getting in and out of bed, I retrieved him one last time and brought him in our room where he slept soundly beside me for the rest of the night. This morning when he started stirring, I tried to keep sleeping and hoped he'd follow suit. Rather than get up and signal that he had to use the bathroom (waving his pinkie in the air) he proceeded to wet my bed, and me in the process. Of course I flew out of bed in a tizzy, and surely sensing my frustration, Nithin had an 'nam-style Amma flashback and soiled himself. In the middle of all of that and the resulting cleanup, an ant infestation in the rest of the house had to be dealt with using flaming newspaper and craft glue (you really have to be innovative over here.)

It was quite a rude awakening, and in the midst of the whole situation, Nina and I just had to have a good laugh because really, what else can you do?

Smackdown on a Smackdown

As the house grew quiet and Nina and I were getting ready for bed, we noticed a howling in the big house next door. We immediately recognized it as Nithin's cry and at first shrugged it off, assuming he was getting a bath. When it didn't stop, and I thought I heard other suspicious noises along with it, I stepped outside to investigate. Since we moved out, Amma, who had lived downstairs with us and whatever children happened to be living with us, was alone so little Nithin had been brought back downstairs to live with her. It made me nervous knowing that he would be down there alone with her, as I know she can be really rough, especially with him. I have gotten used to her love taps for him, even her more disciplinary swats, but the repetitive sounds I heard from another house and several rooms away made me sick to my stomach. As I stepped outside and peered in through the kitchen window I could see Amma in the living area and could hear her yelling in Telugu, obviously at Nithin. As soon as I saw her raise her hand high and come down with a loud, nauseating smack followed by a piercing scream from Nithin, I knew we had to do something. We immediately went upstairs (even though in our pajamas we were wearing our most inappropriate clothing -- shorts) and reported what we saw to Assin, Bendang's wife. With Amma, one has to be careful. The language barrier is high and her temper can flare. I love her, but she has her own plethora of problems and often takes her anger out on helpless little Nithin. Bendang went in and there were some strong words exchanged (though we couldn't understand them) and soon Nithin was headed up to stay with the boys.

2 year old Nithin

How could anyone in their right mind lay a hand on this innocent little babe?

There is no way we could have slept knowing that he was over there being manhandled by an old and cantankerous woman. Maybe we are just as afraid of Amma as Nithin is, after all we did hide behind the stairs watching to see that he got out rather than face the beast ourselves, but as long as we brought the beating to someone's attention, then we have done our job for today. Whether they think we are softies or not, no matter the cultural differences, it is never okay to treat a child that way. Never.