Maya Update
Most importantly, Amaan is doing well, though amputation is still a possibility.
This is his leg after the stitches were removed.
This photo was taken about 2 days later.
This is a photo of his leg 48 hours after surgery.
Things started to go downhill a few days after the accident when my friend with a motorbike stopped accompanying me to the hospital. He has a business and a large family to attend to, so I am grateful for the time he did come with me and translate when needed. It was during these first few days that I think my presence meant the most for Amaan's treatment. The next week or so was alright, I often saw Amaan's "brother" (turns out he is just a family friend) who would sometimes treat me to a meal after a visit and even with the language barrier he was nice company and let me know he appreciated me. Amaan's mother came from Bihar to visit a couple days before the "brother" left.
I had been buying Amaan small gifts- a watch, a small FM radio and clothes to replace what was ruined in the accident. I also often bring cookies, crackers, other food and drinks, and of course pay for some of the treatment. The other day Amaan's mother specifically asked me to buy a powdered mix supplement, which I agreed was a good idea since the already thin boy has lost a lot of weight. She has since asked me to buy him some of the common undershirts men wear in India so Amaan can have extra at the hospital. Seemed reasonable. Then she asked me for shoes and a sari, and some clothes for her 5 year-old back in Bihar...
Since that moment I have begun to shrink back. I won't lie, it has never been easy being here, but somehow I got involved, and I started to help. There have definitely been times that I wished I had never seen the accident or even that I had walked away like so many others.
I am alone most of everyday, I go back to my guest house and spend my evenings alone, I walk to and from the hospital alone... Normally, I enjoy the solitude of travel, but the stress of the accident and the aftermath- the wound, the possibility of amputation, knowing he is lonely in the hospital, the heat of an Indian summer, my own loneliness... At the moment it is not easy to treasure this purdah, this isolation. The pleasing but intermittent conversations I have with people on the street or in restaurants aren't enough to sustain me. I have found myself crying in the street, or with tears like geysers as I lean into the shoulder of a woman I met at the hospital. Such public displays of emotion are out of the ordinary here, and I do try and keep it together. I feel really helpless, I have to say I feel also unappreciated.
My motives were never egoistic, but I could never claim total altruism. I do want some acknowledgment, but only from Amaan and his family, especially at this stage when everyone seems to want something from me. I have made two dozen trips to the hospital and I am feeling frustration with still being in Calcutta when I should have left two weeks ago. I'm not sure what the best course is at the moment. I'll start by limiting my visits to once a day instead of two, and I will not buy any more things for him or his family (aside from treatment, medicine or food). I believe his mother to be a good woman who has just found herself in a situation where she may be able to make things a little better for her family. Unfortunately this has led to me feeling taken advantage of. I just have to remember my initial goal- to do anything I could to help the treatment be a success. I can not save the world.
Yes, I can not save the world. But I very much want to believe though I am only one, and that there is strength in numbers, one is also a number... I'm going to keep trying.
This is his leg after the stitches were removed.
This photo was taken about 2 days later.
This is a photo of his leg 48 hours after surgery.
Things started to go downhill a few days after the accident when my friend with a motorbike stopped accompanying me to the hospital. He has a business and a large family to attend to, so I am grateful for the time he did come with me and translate when needed. It was during these first few days that I think my presence meant the most for Amaan's treatment. The next week or so was alright, I often saw Amaan's "brother" (turns out he is just a family friend) who would sometimes treat me to a meal after a visit and even with the language barrier he was nice company and let me know he appreciated me. Amaan's mother came from Bihar to visit a couple days before the "brother" left.
I had been buying Amaan small gifts- a watch, a small FM radio and clothes to replace what was ruined in the accident. I also often bring cookies, crackers, other food and drinks, and of course pay for some of the treatment. The other day Amaan's mother specifically asked me to buy a powdered mix supplement, which I agreed was a good idea since the already thin boy has lost a lot of weight. She has since asked me to buy him some of the common undershirts men wear in India so Amaan can have extra at the hospital. Seemed reasonable. Then she asked me for shoes and a sari, and some clothes for her 5 year-old back in Bihar...
Since that moment I have begun to shrink back. I won't lie, it has never been easy being here, but somehow I got involved, and I started to help. There have definitely been times that I wished I had never seen the accident or even that I had walked away like so many others.
I am alone most of everyday, I go back to my guest house and spend my evenings alone, I walk to and from the hospital alone... Normally, I enjoy the solitude of travel, but the stress of the accident and the aftermath- the wound, the possibility of amputation, knowing he is lonely in the hospital, the heat of an Indian summer, my own loneliness... At the moment it is not easy to treasure this purdah, this isolation. The pleasing but intermittent conversations I have with people on the street or in restaurants aren't enough to sustain me. I have found myself crying in the street, or with tears like geysers as I lean into the shoulder of a woman I met at the hospital. Such public displays of emotion are out of the ordinary here, and I do try and keep it together. I feel really helpless, I have to say I feel also unappreciated.
My motives were never egoistic, but I could never claim total altruism. I do want some acknowledgment, but only from Amaan and his family, especially at this stage when everyone seems to want something from me. I have made two dozen trips to the hospital and I am feeling frustration with still being in Calcutta when I should have left two weeks ago. I'm not sure what the best course is at the moment. I'll start by limiting my visits to once a day instead of two, and I will not buy any more things for him or his family (aside from treatment, medicine or food). I believe his mother to be a good woman who has just found herself in a situation where she may be able to make things a little better for her family. Unfortunately this has led to me feeling taken advantage of. I just have to remember my initial goal- to do anything I could to help the treatment be a success. I can not save the world.
Yes, I can not save the world. But I very much want to believe though I am only one, and that there is strength in numbers, one is also a number... I'm going to keep trying.
posted by Maya at 12:54 PM
5 Comments:
You have a very beautiful name - Maya.
Thats what the world is.
Crying in the streets ? Perhaps you should go to the U.S. Consulate and find out where the expats hang out in Kolkata, and go socialize a bit.
Circumstances make people do funny things. Don't feel taken advantage of.
Given the circumstances I am not concerned about the small outbursts. I do have "access" to westerners in the tourist ghetto where I stay, and some locals who know the whole story have been good listeners.
My sentiments are not meant to reflect poorly on Amaan's mother or family. It is very clear that their culture and mine differ in ideas about gift-giving, obligation and expressions of thanks. The blog is merely a place for me to say how I feel, not record the world objectively.
That said, I do agree that that "circumstances make people do funny things" and I can decide or not if I am being taken advantage of. If I really felt this to be the case, I would leave.
Thank you for your comments.
This post has been removed by the author.
Maya Maya Maya -
Been thinking about you and wondering what you've been up to. I hope this finds you well.
Sounds like you've been up to some serious adventure. Though I must admit I got misty when reading about Amaan and nauseous after seeing the close ups of the leg. Whoa. . .
I must share with you stories from other friends who've visited India who I met in Alaska. The analogy involved how people talked about 'abject poverty' in India like 'cold' in Alaska. Unless you've lived it, they're just terms, lacking the ineffable quality needed to truly describe the environment.
20 below zero is just a number till you've felt it burn your eyes, and freeze the snot in your nose.
Being that poor isn't something I can readily wrap my mind around, but you've done a good job of sharing with me what it could be like.
Keep up the good work.
mm
Oh Maya,
I have been reading your blog to check in on your travels for some time. I was in India last year, only briefly compared to you, but my time there made me intersted in yours.
I was only in India a month and I cried in the streets a few times, mostly feeling frustrated at the inability to do basic things and feeling very isolated and alone. I can relate to a lot of the feelings you are describing.
You must take care of yourself, too, don't forget. Be friendly and compassionate to yourself - you've been through a lot! You're doing a good thing for this boy and his family but I know you must be feeling overwhelmed at being only one person in the face of vast broken system in a culture so different than your own. Try to give yourself the gift of meditative detachment - nonattachment- for at least some of every day, just as a rest and a way to give yourself a mental and emotional hug. It's okay just to rest and be upset and feel bad, and yes, to even feel bitter and taken advantage of or tired of helping. This stuff is hard and it's complex! Don't forget to cut yourself a little break from time to time, or you will find your subconcious forcing you to have a break by causing you to burst into tears randomly in the middle of the street!
Good luck,
-elly (le from fipi lele)
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