Children Walking Tall

by Gee Sahota

Today is the beginning of a new tomorrow.
Ever since I set foot on Goan soil, I know I feel at home. Nowhere else in the world inspires this comfortable feeling of surrender; an earthy charm glittered with a tropical zeal of friendliness and warmth. How ordinary London seems in comparison. Now I have arrived, I am determined to fulfil my soul reason for being here – to purge the futile elements of my life and push the barriers to reach a more wholesome self.

What a wonderful opportunity I have been given to work with Children Walking Tall. I will cherish every moment, even the difficult times. I know that working with these children will hit me hard, but only to grow and understand what life is truly about and to realise aspects of my personality that have been bursting to help make a difference for so long.

Setting foot in the slum
Walking into the slum for the first time was inwardly distressing yet outwardly I remained cool and collected. It was a humbling experience. Rusty old tin shacks; around the size of only a king size bed envelope a mini banana plantation. Outdoors among the hazardous palm trees and dusty ground is where Children Walking Tall have set up classes and play games. It is also here where I will practice homeopathy for the next few months.

It's a filthy, bumpy surface and we sit on plastic mats. I’m glad I can speak some Hindi – and being one of only 3 speakers in the entire charity I have a great advantage to try and build a relationship with the slum families. There are 6 babies and 43 scruffy, barefoot children to look after. They are all semi dressed in clothes that have probably been worn five days in a row, stained with remnants of the previous nights’ dinner.

I’m both nervous and excited at being a fully-fledged homeopath. Thankfully, I am in the perfect setting to understand the health needs of the children as they are under my daily observation, and there is no typical consultation room that may make them apprehensive. The only thing I have to contend with is limited resources. Out in the open air, a plastic chair, notepad, pen, my books and case full of remedies is all I have. It’s pretty hard not having any privacy. The other children try and play with my hair and interrupt me when I am dealing with someone. They are simply curious, as any child would be.


Affectionate children and angry ants
Today, I stepped on a nest of red ants and my feet were nipped by over a dozen of the angry bugs. Tiny little needle pricks that had to be relieved by my bottled water, and then my remedies. There is no running water, and the luxury of a wash is provided by the river Mandovi a few kms away. And if that wasn’t enough, we had a narrow escape from a 2 metre banana leaf that fell a couple of centimetres away from the babies. I am getting used to the lonesome stray dogs roaming everywhere, including the cutest 3 week old brown speckled mongrel who joins our singing class - I have taken my karaoke renditions to a new height - in the form of 'head, shoulders knees and toes.’ By the end of the daily 2 and half hours I am sweating like the stench in a sewer and can’t wait to jump into a swimming pool.

It takes a lot of energy when children are vying for your attention; to the extent that they are mean to their peers. Nevertheless, the huge sense of satisfaction that imbues you when you evoke a smile and gain the children’s affection no words can describe. God only knows where these little hands have been when they hold your hand and touch your face. Many of them are clearly compensating for the lack of affection they receive from their own parents, especially some of the fathers who throw their love and affection at the whiskey bottle or literally throw the whiskey bottle at their children. There's a devastatingly harsh injustice that only a divine entity can comprehend.

I'm grateful every day for the life I have had, have and probably will have. I wouldn't wish on any soul the unfortunate circumstances inflicted on these poor souls.


My first prescriptions
I made my first prescription for 'S’, a 12-year-old girl, who got a gruesome black eye from her mother. She beat her with a stick for not cleaning up properly.
It’s heart wrenching to see the domestic responsibilities that are landed on the shoulders of the eldest child. I am witnessing girls as young as 7 years old who are looking after their toddler and baby siblings, whilst their parents go out rag picking. At, 7, I was still tying plaits in my Barbie doll!

Abuse is rife; physical and I'm sure sexual too. More upsetting was prescribing for S.A., the 5 year old boy who had his feet whipped by his alcoholic father for making masti (being naughty). The cuts and bruises on his tiny swollen feet would make anyone tearful. As a professional I have to remain detached, it’s tough but I am coping. He has the cutest smile and brightest eyes like all of his five brothers and sisters. And if that wasn't enough, being Muslim, they are singled out and bullied by the other Hindu children.

It’s a grim reality, but it doesn't phase me. It merely moves me to continue with my efforts and give these children in some way or form a normality which we would take for granted in the western world. In fact, it's already breaking my heart that I will be leaving them in January.


Passion and persistence
Today I was asked to travel to the other slum that Children Walking Tall look after. From nausea to prickly heat and cradle cap were the maladies of the day. Word has got out and parents and grandparents try to seek me out.

Even volunteers at the charity, the resident kitten and dog have benefited from homeopathy or are in the middle of treatment. Cough after cough, fevers, infections, nausea, wounds, food poisoning, headaches; old injuries; all of these has been knocked on the head with a dose of this valuable medicine.

The pressure to see so many patients back to back has been positively intense but my initial nerves have ebbed away allowing fresh confidence to flow through smoothly. Now all I have to deal with is gently being pulled like a rag doll by the children and elders of the slums. I do my best and it's no big deal. Just need to keep up my energy.

It is my passion and persistence that is sustaining my current work. I believe in what I do, where I want to be and put my full heart into it. And I am ecstatic that it's paying its dividends. I’m even conducting yoga sessions with the children. May be that could something else to add to my repertoire?


The season of giving
Children Walking Tall has succeeded their target to distribute over 1000 Christmas presents to the local slums of Goa on Xmas Day. In the soaring heat, to organise so many children and parents to queue and patiently wait their turn is a draining task. I have lost my voice trying to get people to stay calm and not push ahead of the others to receive their present. Avoiding being mobbed by some of them was another eye opener. The memories of dashing away in our vans like we were film stars drilled home that they live for survival only.

Today’s emotional moment was being hugged by a mother. She cried to me in Hindi that we had been sent by God to take pity on their poor souls. “We are so poor that I could never buy such gifts for my child let alone know when the next amount of money will come in to feed us. Thank you so much.”
A tear rolled down my cheek.


More gratitude and humbling moments
Today, A.’s mother came up to me with arms open wide to tell me that he is no longer suffering. His stomach cramps have ceased, and he has slept through many nights without a nightmare or wetting his bed. A., aged 9 was electrocuted at a dangerous construction site two years ago and nearly died. Wow, to be at death’s door and then having to suffer such plaguing symptoms for so long!? It warmed me to hear his mother’s sweet words. It’s my job, nothing more.


Coming home
I arrived back in London yesterday and have been up since 4.30am. I have chosen to write the next part of my diary from the comfort of my own home, to impress upon me the contrasting lifestyle of the weeks gone by, and my now fine surroundings that I appreciate more than ever. Sitting here, I can receive the full impact of what I have achieved, the wave of emotions that have imbued me and the new sense of self that has emerged…………………
Was I actually in Goa for all that time? Did I really work with severely deprived slum children? Was I really a fully-fledged homeopath? Did I really teach yoga to the children? Did FEXCO really sponsor me to realise my dream? Were those real shooting stars – all SIX of them? YES !!!
Cliché I know, but dreams really can come true and if that wasn't enough, it can be more that you ever dreamed of….I could never have imagined this for myself a year ago. Six months on, I knew I had to do something special and that 'special' seed was born, I closely tended to that seed until it fledged, through sunshine and rain – no matter how torrent the downpour.

It's still a mere bud, but having anchored its roots in the fertile soil it will blossom and thrive. Nurturing the bud is what I'll continue to do and flourish it will.

I have realised this through my 'special' project. It is the most amazing thing I have done in my life so far and will certainly not be the last. Working with the slum children has permanently ingrained in me humility and gratitude. Trivialities of western day-to-day life are shunned and if ever these trivialities seep back into my being – I will make sure to stop and remember how good I've got it!

Once again, I'm grateful every day for the life I have had, have and probably will have.