Our Cramazing May, Episode XX: Arriving at Basundhara

Bhubaneswar is called "The City of Temples".  There are temples everywhere you look because, as we learned, a temple can be a large building that you can walk into, or it can be a relic tied to a tree.  Anything can be used in idol worship...anything at all.  On our drive to Cuttack, Tuna shared with us about how he had come to know Christ and how he and Jeepu had met.  Jeepu is also a nickname; her family calls her that because she was born in a jeep.  True story.

 We continued to be so surprised at how much English we saw.  On street signs, on buildings, on the backs of vehicles.  We expected that in Delhi but really thought that Oriya would be the dominant language in Orissa.  And while it certainly was the dominant speaking language, you wouldn't have known it by looking around.

 The roadways are full of every kind of transportation imaginable, as well as people and animals walking on the road.  SUVs, motorbikes, autos (also known as tuk-tuks or auto rickshaws), taxis of all sorts, large transport trucks, busses....all of these share the road.  We didn't notice it while there, but someone later pointed out that women don't drive there much.  True...I can't remember ever seeing a woman driver.  But the women are certainly present, often riding side saddle dressed in their beautiful saris and on the backs of motorbikes, sometimes wearing a baby or carrying something large in their laps.  The balance needed is amazing!  And they do it all the time!  Often, a child is sitting on the front of the motorbike seat, and multiple times, we saw a family of 4 on one motorbike!  Auto rickshaws are everywhere, and later that day, we would get our first chance to ride in one!

Cuttack is a small Indian town of about 100,000 people, located at the convergence of three rivers.  Before getting into the city, we crossed over the then-dry riverbed, and again, the landscape changed dramatically.  We found ourselves in a Cuttack neighborhood with our driver and Tuna asking for directions from one person and then another.  Here, there are no fold-out maps, and the neighborhood streets are completely unmarked.  The directions are something like, "Go down the road to the white house on the corner.  Turn right.  When you get to the tire stand, turn left.  Go straight until you see a man on the corner selling pots and pans.  The road to the orphanage is over the sewer ditch a little ways up the road from the man."  I'm not sure what they were saying in Oriya, but it seemed like it must have been something like that.

Eventually, I caught a glimpse of the orphanage through the other buildings.  It is a distinctive color, and its three stories tower above the mostly one-story shacks, makeshift homes, and shops we were seeing.  When we saw the orphanage, our driver suddenly turned, and we braced ourselves for the bumps as we off-roaded up and over an open sewer ditch on two slabs of concrete that had been made into a bridge.  I quick snapped this picture...

 

 See the ditch?  See the concrete slabs?  Our car drove over two of those, one tire on each slab.  Not much surprises me when riding in a vehicle in a developing country, but that one did.  I just couldn't believe that this could possibly be the main entrance.  But each day that we returned to the orphanage, we drove the exact same way.  Eventually, we got used to it, but that first time was a little scary.

When we got back to the hotel that night and after my 2 "boys" were in bed (Daddy and Rex), I sat down at the computer and began to write about our day...

"I have been up late many nights in the last few weeks, but this night is different from any of the others.  Tonight, I sit here as a mama who hasn’t only looked at pictures of her son but has seen him with her eyes and held him in her arms.  He is precious and brave beyond words, and someday, he will probably grow to like us.   J

The trip has been full of adventures already and I will write more over time.  But for now, I must record the events of the day.

Walking into Basundhara was one of the most surreal experiences of my life, perhaps even topping the drive in to the Care Center in Addis Ababa, mostly because of the sheer amount of time that I’ve known about it.  I first saw their website just days after getting Jag’s referral, so I’ve been thinking of this place and this person for 19 months.  Wondering when we would go, hoping that we could go soon, and packing for the actual go.  And now, all of a sudden (not really—it actually took a week of travel to get to here), we were walking in the front gate.  I knew Basundhara’s yellowish color from a long way away….and here we were.

We were greeted by a man, who directed us to a woman, who went and got another woman, who took us upstairs to the room where we would wait for and meet him.  Thank goodness for parents and their blogs that have gone before us…otherwise, I wouldn’t have known what was happening."

This is the "family room" where all waiting families come to meet their kids.  It is also the room where our agency's social worker lives when she comes to Basundhara to visit each year.

Here we are...waiting for three to become four.  It had been a long journey, but we were finally here, ready--so ready--to meet him.  If you look closely, you can see Tuna in the mirror taking the picture of us.  Turns out that Tuna is quite a good photographer, too, which was a wonderful help!

While we were waiting, Tuna went outside and took some pictures of the orphanage compound for us.  It is really such a beautiful place...a haven in the midst of a grossly impoverished place.  We are so thankful, since he couldn't be with us yet, that Tom got to spend the first 2+ years of his life here!

In the center of the 3-sided building, there is a courtyard, and in it, a huge garden with flowering trees, fruits and vegetables, and gorgeous, great, big flowers!  When Tom came to the room, he would have flowers for me, taken right from their garden.

 

The wide porch is used for playing and for teaching, for dressing and for eating.  It is a wonderful space, actually.  People ask us sheepishly, "What was the orphanage like?" with a tone that assumes the worst.  But this place was so nice!  Was there dirt everywhere?  Sure.  Was it sparsely furnished?  Absolutely.  But the kids were loved, safe, and well-taken-care of.  And compared to the world outside the Basundhara walls, the kids were in a virtual paradise.

 

Our hostess during our time at Basundhara was Swati.  I grew to love Swati very quickly...she was kind, welcoming, and had the most beautiful smile!  If I understood her role correctly, she is one of the psychologists on the staff, and when I asked her how she got to Basundhara, she said that she had heard about the good work that they were doing there and wanted to be a part of it.

 In India, there is no hurry.  No reason to rush.  And no awkwardness with silence.  So when Swati and another woman came in and sat with us, it wasn't necessarily strange for them, but it sure was for us!  Not really, but it was kind of funny.  They brought us water and then just sat looking at us.  We tried to make small talk and figure out what was going on (Where was Tom?  When would he come?), but we just sat.  I love it, actually....different cultures have such varied cultural norms, and when you are a guest in a different culture, the best thing to do is to watch, observe, ask questions, adapt, and learn.  So we waited.  Until The Moment finally came.

 Tuna captured this special moment between the three of us, and I love it.  Rex was our first child...there was a day when we put him in the car and drove him home from the hospital.  Now, he was here, waiting with us for the delivery of his baby brother.