I can no longer keep track of the moments here which have opened my eyes to the needs of my neighbors. Since my first day, I was forced to face the reality of the suffering and abject poverty of those directly outside my door. I have been approached literally hundreds of times by beggars--mothers holding naked babies, small children in dirty and torn clothing, frail and starving men with empty eyes, women who habitate the same street corners week after week--and am paralyzed by how their needs far exceed my own capacities, resources and abilities.
"Just some rice, di di."
The image of small children coming up to my window in traffic putting their hands to their mouths will be etched in my mind forever. So will the masses who sleep on cardboard boxes lining both sides of every street at night. There is no way that I can help them all.
But as paralyzed as I feel by the poverty, I know that Jesus has not called me to turn my face to those in need. The question I have asked over and over throughout the past few months is where God might like me to give.
You know those moments where you meet someone and you know that God has orchestrated it? After meeting a new friend this weekend, I believe my prayers have been answered and I now know a clear and tangible way that I (and you!) can make a difference.
On Saturday I was introduced to a friend of a friend and was given the opportunity to learn about her work among girls in a nearby village. We met Saturday afternoon and without any hesistation she invited me to her home for Easter lunch. I was really touched by her hospitality.
Rupali* spends 4-5 days a week traveling 90 minutes each way by train to a village on the outskirts of the city. In this village she and her husband have established a community center for the girls. The village is remote and it is ruled by the tenants of fundamentalist Islam. I have read about the lack of rights these girls have in books like Half the Sky and in the occasional article on oppression against women, but I have never heard first-hand accounts. Many villages here are rigidly patriarchial.
Rupali is married to a man who grew up in this environment. She is familiar with the culture, the beliefs and the traditions. When she arrived in this village, she saw for herself that the girls are not valued. They are given no worth, no skills, no future, no opportunities, no freedom and no ability to be creative or express themselves in any way. Forced to wear a burka revealing only their eyes, none of them have been allowed outside the four walls of their homes. They are silenced from speaking up. They aren't allowed to have toys, to go to school, to learn how to spell, to go to the doctor, or to learn any skills. Boys can have all of these things. They are bred to serve the men in the home and are married at around age 14, often as just one of multiple wives to men in their 30s and 40s. For the rest of their lives, their job is to serve their husband and keep the house.
Suicide takes too many. Those who don't go that route live in constant fear, anguish and loneliness. Poverty has contributed to the culture to think of the girls only as a financial burden, incentivizing families to marry off their daughters as soon as they can to whoever will pay for them. The culture often breeds traffickers-- men posing as prospective husbands who are easily able to gain permission to swap some money for the young girls--to turn around and sell them into sex slavery. Rupali has seen girls sold right in front of her eyes. They are at a huge risk.
A couple years ago Rupali sensed a calling to work with these girls. Her purpose was to find a way to show them that they have a value and that their lives have worth. She wanted to be in the community and to educate them, teaching them basic skills that could change the course of their futures. She and her husband spent the first year gaining the trust of parents in the community so that they might allow the daughters to learn how to sew for free. Her focus is on girls from age 4-20. Because the training was offered without cost, the parents were much more likely to give permission. They weren't losing anything in allowing their daughters to learn a simple skill, but they instead saw value in the girls' contributions to the family. If the daughters could make money, feeding them might no longer be a burden. Some said no, but most have said yes.
The community center has grown. Each day, the girls arrive at 10 a.m. and remove their burkas to reveal brightly colored salwar suits and contagious smiles. Rupali has taught them the alphabet. She has taught them how to sign their names. She has taught them to stitch, to sew and to mend. She has given them toiletry kits and has seen them awestruck at how shampoo makes their hair silky. She provides coloring books for them and has watched them marvel in seeing a colored pencil for the first time. She recently took a group of them to see one of the city's most famous palaces. The girls couldn't believe what they saw.
"Is this the world?" "Are these people actors di di?" They had never before seen civilization.
Rupali's mission is to first give them a skill and show them they are talented and have value. Access to a sewing machine enabled one girl to make 100 rupees ($2) in her first 15 days- an impressive feat to someone who had never had a single rupee of her own. With that money, she can now feed herself and will not have to be given up for marriage as a child. Another girl was able to obtain a job simply by learning how to sign her name. Girls are learning quickly and have dreams of opening their own tailoring shops, of being beauticians, of being teachers. Their lives are being transformed.
When I was sitting in her home, seeing photos and hearing stories, I could not stop hearing "This is it." This woman is doing this work on her own initiative. I asked her what needs were the greatest, as I am well aware that financial limitations often place hindrances on people's capacity to work. She said that new sewing machines and school supplies are the most pressing needs as the center is growing. New machines enable the girls to take rotations using them and allow for the greatest output of work. This directly affects their ability to make money, to create value and to gain the confidence that has been stripped of them in the oppression of the larger community.
So here it is, my shameless plug for the ministry of Rupali which seeks to reach behind the veils of these girls and share love to a segment of the population who is desperately seeking someone to care for them. I simply cannot imagine living like they do.
Each sewing machine costs $150 USD. I would like to be able to present Rupali with the funds to purchase 5 new machines by the time I leave here in June. Please contact me if you feel led to cover the cost of one.
"And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'" - Mathew 25:40
