Bornfree Art School - Bangalore, India

This blog post is mostly a downer and the stories and pictures that follow are challenging. But I believe that it at least they have somewhat of a happy ending but it is not for those with a weak stomach.  So if this is you, you might want to stop now and not continue as the the stories and picutes are quite intense. 
Bornfree Art School for Kids

Bornfree Art School for Kids

Picturing a bright orange van with a viscous looking tiger leaping from back-end toward the front you might think of speed or power but this van was anything but that.  This 1960s van had seen far better days.  It required several people to push the van to a speed where it could be pop started, and would stall if it came to a complete stop.  The seats weren't securely bolted to the floor and it was missing several widows, which is probably for the best as the exhaust from the engine seemed to vent directly into the cab. It was an interesting ride with 12 children ranging from 4-18 years old pilled in the back.  The van stalled many times as the 15 year old driver navigated the streets of Bangalore on our way to the Bornfree Art School, only slightly missing cows, motorcycles and the pedestrian brave enough to try and cross the street.
There have been many times since I have arrived in India that I have worried about where I was going, what I would do when I arrived and if I would make it there safely but oddly this wasn't one of those times, even with a boy driver just able to see over the steering wheel snaking through the utter chaos that is Indian traffic.  For the first time I had found some purpose for coming to India and I knew that everything would be fine.

The prior day, feeling rather down and depressed I wandered aimlessly through a beautiful garden in the middle of Bangalore.  I was feeling rather unsure of why I was in India and if I would really be able to survive for a long period of time in a place that was completely backwards from anything I have ever known.  But as it always seems to happen, a solution to my problems always seems to arrive when I think that all is lost.  The wonderful girls I met in the botanical garden that day sent me down a path that has left me a different person.

As we  sat and talked in the garden eating a meal they had so generously shared with me I found myself smiling more and feeling more up beat than I had in sometime.  It was simple food, a little pumpkin curry, lentil gravy and dosa.  As we sat there talking and enjoying the food I noticed a rather rough and dirty man walking towards us.  As he moved closer I began to wonder why he was walking so deliberately in our direction.  When the girls noticed me watching intently behind them they turn and at once greeted the man who was in fact their teacher.  He joined us for lunch and as we ate he explain why they were in the garden and what his organization was all about.

The Bornfree Art School was established to help provide street kids, orphans and neglected children a safe place where art, culture and work ethics sit at core of their education not to mention a safe place to sleep and food to eat. As I spoke with John, the core founder of the school, he explained to me the background of children that attended his school. They had almost all come from forced child labor factories, sex trade, or begging on the streets.  Most had no family, no money, no education and no hope for the future but John was trying to change that one child at a time.  I was amazed at the work he was doing, so when he offered me a bed and food to eat in exchange for chance to teach the kids computers and English is instantly jumped at the opportunity.  If there is anything that can pull you out a bad mood faster than helping other people I haven't found it.

The sun began to set and the mosquitoes moved in so I quickly explained that I must go but I would be back in the morning ready to teach.  Having been cheated quiet badly the day before I was somewhat skeptical that something that seemed so good could have just fallen into my lap, so I thought it only prudent to do a little online research about John and his school.  When everything seemed to check out I packed my bags and prepared to make my first move since arriving in Bangalore.

The next morning as usual I was awoken by the Muslim call to the prayer but I was happy to be up and off on my next adventure.   At 8:30am I arrived back in the garden eager to start my teaching and to meet the rest of the children but as often happens in India I found myself waiting around for something to happen.  Organization seems to be a major issue in this country but maybe that is just my western perspective.  The kids gradually filtered into the bonsai garden with apparently no really direction or schedule and busied themselves with playful conversation and games, stopping now and them to introduce themselves and ask the normal series of questions, was I married, how much money did I make, where I was from, and how long would I be staying at the school. Around 11am I began to seriously wonder where this John guy was and if his offer was genuine.  It was only a few minutes later that this still dirty and rough looking man appeared from a small wooden hut I had completely missed sitting only a few feet from the large clay oven that sat billowing smoke into the air.  At first he didn't notice me but seemed surprised when he saw me there with a group of children sitting around me.  He staggered towards me obviously just awake for the day and greeted me with a smile and a hand shake.  He explained to me that he and a few other of the children had been up all night feeding the fires for the giant clay pot they had been curing in this large oven for the last 12 days.  The fires required constant tenting to maintain the correct temperature for curing the clay. He was teaching the children about ancient pot making not only about the creation and style but the process in which ancient people had to bake these works of art.

Over the next few days I spent a lot of time still just waiting around wondering when I would find my time to teach or even get all the kids together for a single lesson but in the meanwhile I found opportunities to talk with the kids and learn more about their lives.  One of my favorite girls who goes by the name of Teena Das (but whose name is really Reshma) spent a lot of time talking to me about her life and asking me questions about every topic imaginable, most often than not about boys and her problems with them, which isn't surprising for a girl of 16.

Teena often spoke about her past.  She had come from good family with kind parents.  She told about how loving and gentle her father was to her and the beauty her mother.  She loved her family but this all changed when her mother died during the birth of her little brother.  Devastated by the lost of his wife and unable to care for the two small children Teena's father soon remarried.  The woman he married had lost her husband and was left to care for three children of her own, so it must have seemed like a good idea to join the two families and at first Teena was glad to have a mother to take care of her but this quickly changed.  Teena's new step-mother despised her and her brother, often refusing to feed them and frequently hitting them without reason.  One day Teena and her brother were asked join there mother to help with the days grocery shopping which for Teena was quite exciting.  As they walked there is no way that a young girl of 5 and her even younger brother could have imagined what was about to happen to them.

Teena's life was forever altered again the day her step-mother sold both her and her little brother to a factory where they produce bricks.  She spend 15 hours a day carrying sand and water to those who mixed it.  She was given one meal a day which consisted of one cup of  plain rice and some water which she shared with her brother.  She told me that she took comfort in working next to her little brother who was never far from her even though they could never speak to one another for fear of being severely beaten.  Only at night could the siblings exchange a few words of hope, never giving up that their father was looking for them and would soon rescue them from this hell and indeed her father was looking for them.

After what Teena described as a very long time she decided that she could no longer stay at this place and somehow in the night escaped with her little brother to the streets of Bangalore.  At night they wandered from place to place never feeling safe, begging for what little food they could manage.  Teena knew that if she could find her way home that her father would divorce the woman he had married and take care of her and her brother again if only she could find him and explain what had happened.  Through the broken English I couldn't understand how exactly Teena managed her way back home but once again she was met with tragedy.  She arrived back in her neighborhood looking for where her family had once lived only to find that her step-mother was gone and learned of her fathers suicide over the disgrace of losing his only children.  Teena was left with nothing but her younger brother who she must care for as he was too young to care for himself.

Teena's younger years where filled with begging and stealing, beatings and abuse, prostitution and rape.  Many times she and he brother were tricked into places that seemed like safe havens only to find themselves back enslaved in sex trade or forced labor.  Many time she was forced to do things that brough her to tears as she explained them to me.  But nothing worse than the night she was chased by "evil, bad men" as she calls them, beaten, raped and separated from her little brother.  To this day she still had no idea where he is or if he is still alive.

Teena is now one of the lead dancers at the school and is working hard to pass her 10th Standard tests.  She isn't sure what she wants to do with her life but she has found hope that things can get better and the world is not always and ugly and scary place.

Over the next few days I heard many stories like this from almost ever child that could speak enough English to tell me.  Most of these stories where almost unbearable to hear but each one who talked to me always said it made them feel better to talk to me about it.  The bravery of these little kids is unmatched   Although it was difficult to hear these stories it was even more horrible to feel completely powerless to help these kids, that I couldn't rescue them from this life and even if I could there are still millions and millions of kids just like them all over India that will never have the opportunity to even share their story with someone like me.

Not all the time I was there was as difficult as hearing the stories from the kids.  There were also happy moments as I shared a bag of instant oatmeal or cooked applesauce for them, a treat they will likely never have again as apples are extremely expensive in India or teaching English.  When the kids weren't studying or working to tend the fire they spent time teaching me simple survival skills for India like how to shop at the market, how to wash my laundry or cross the street without being killed.  I learned to cook a few simple meals that were all prepared over an open fire, using bits of trash, sticks or anything they could find for fuel.
My nights at the school were often sleepless as my mind was often plagued by the events of the day and state in which these kids live.  Even though there were rats, cockroaches and mosquitoes in the room and I slept on the floor I knew that both me and these kids still had it far better than a large portion of the kids in India.




Next story...

Suman is a 14 year old boy who is staying at the Bornfree School with his little sister.  I don't know much about Suman's life as he neither or his sister could speak any English   When I first went to the Bornfree I spoke a lot with the other teacher there, who I know only as Mioi San, a Japanese lady who had been working with John for the last 8 years. As I talked with Mioi I mentioned that I was a Boy Scout when I was younger and had learned a wide variety of useful skills, such as outdoor survival skills, personal finance and first-aid.  When I mentioned that I knew first-aid Mioi's face lit up and she quickly explained to me Suman's situation and asked me if I could please look at him as he was suffering greatly at the moment.

Suman had been in a very serious rickshaw accident 8 days prior to our first meeting.  His collarbone had been shatters and he had long, deep lacerations to both his knees and one of his feet.  After the initial visit to the hospital the school was too poor to take him again to receive the proper medical attention he needed.  When I first saw Suman he looked rather ill, his bandaged soaked through with pus, blood and other fluids, dirty beyond belief from the conditions in which he was living.  Although, I have had a few broken bones, cuts and surgeries in my life and have seen my fair share of infected wounds, none of this prepared me to for what I was about to do.

The Bornfree School is in a very remote area of Bangalore but fortunately the nearest medical supply store wasn't too far away, so I took a quick walk with one of the other boys and purchased the things I would need to tend to Suman. Unfortunately there wasn't a pharmacy anywhere near by to purchase some painkillers that would be strong enough to help this little boy deal with the intense pain he would surely feel as I worked on him.  I still debate if giving at little boy alcohol was a good decision but I didn't know what else i could give him for pain besides that and some ibuprofen I had brought from home.

Since the bandages had not been changed since the his original visit to the hospital the dressings had fused to almost all of the healing surfaces except for where bright green fluids continuously drain from the wounds.  I had no other option but to soak the bandages with hot, antiseptic water .  I know that for Suman the pain was excruciating  but to my amazement he never made a sound nor shed a tear but rather would tremble throughout his body as I slowly and carefully soaked and removed the filthy bandages.

After nearly 2 hours I had the bandages mostly removed setting one of the little girls to work with a fan trying to keep the flies from landing on his exposed wounds.  It took me another hour to properly clean and redress the wounds.  Most of the wounds looked okay if not a bit infected but his foot really concerned me.  It was very infected and had swollen to almost twice the size of his other foot.  I took extra care to clean and properly dress this foot, informing him that he must keep the foot elevated so that it would hopefully relieve some of the swealing.  I shared a few of the general antibiotics I had brought from home in hopes that it would help with the infection.

Being emotional drained and exhausted from the work I returned to the other part of the school, more than 1km away from the boys dorms to take a nap and recover a bit from the days events.  A few hours later I awoke to a soft knocking at the door.  When I opened the door there was Suman's little sister holding two small roses she had cut from a near by bush.  At this point I could no longer cope with everything I had experienced of the last few days and broke down into sobbing mess.  I think that the little girl was rather shocked at my reaction because she promptly left.

Over the remainder of my stay I visited Suman several more times repeating the process but each time seeing great improvement in his condition.  The swelling in his food had gone down by almost half and he was up and walking around a bit.   Last time I saw Suman he certainly seemed to be on the up and up.

These are just a few of the experiences I had during my short stay at the Bornfree School.  I could write for many more hours about my time there but most of it I would rather just leave in the past.  I like to believe that the therapy these kids receive from the dancing, singing, working and learning they do is making a real difference but in reality I know this but a tiny, tiny fraction of the atrocities so many children face not only in India but throughout the world.  No children should have to live this way.