I write today’s post amid the smell
of freshly ground coffee keeping warm from the fridge-like
temperatures outside by sitting beside the stove in my parents coffee
shop. We had bacon, scrambled eggs, freshly baked bread and real tea
for breakfast. Last night after getting in at what felt like half
past midnight we each had a giant bowl of my mothers minestrone soup
covered in a thick layer of cheese (oh sweet Lord, thank you for
English cheddar) followed by home made, toasted and sticky hot cross
buns. It's fair to say it's good to be home! However, the whole time
we've been back so far I've been unable to shake the feeling that
I've left something behind in India.
Our last few days in Coonoor were busy
and emotional. We have been trying our hardest to tie up all the
loose ends and finish as many jobs for the UK charity as possible.
Any outstanding jobs have been handed over to a mini team of our
American friends. We felt quite sad to let it go because we've put so
much work and quite a lot of ourselves into it over our time but felt
really reassured that we had handed over to some really competent and
well qualified thinkers.
Hardest of all was saying goodbye to
the children. On Friday afternoon we had a little party for them
where we bought some balloons (which went down a treat (by which I
mean they popped extremely easily)), chalk and henna and basically
had a full afternoon of chaotic messy fun. We played several balloon
based running-about-like-a-madman games which all the kids loved
before Emily went off with the girls to decorate the pavements with
chalk and hands with henna, and I took the boys to play some rougher
games. I introduced British bulldog which proved extremely popular
and proved just how tough the boys are. It was not uncommon to see
three or four tiny lads clamping into the legs of a fully grown man
in an attempt to bring him to the ground. Equally small children were
flying pel mel in all directions as overzealous bigger boys flung the
smaller ones about without a moments thought for their safety. It was
then suggested that we played dodgeball. What followed was two solid
hours of total carnage as boys of all ages pelted each other with
footballs left, right and centre and more small children were sent
flying all in the name of fun.
When the sun went down and after a
rather long and untimely power-cut we gathered the children together
to pray for them, say goodbye and give them each a little piece of
cake. We always knew this would be difficult and both found it hard
to maintain our composure as the children started crying and giving
us both big hugs. It was difficult to know what to say, the
temptation was to reassure them that we will be coming back soon but
in all honesty we have no idea when we will be able to come back.
These children have been the focus of everything we have done here.
All the work for the charity and for Sam have both been for the
well-being of these precious kids and we feel really attached to them
all and know we will miss them painfully. They have taught us so much
about love which is incredible considering the families they have
come from. We felt extremely humbled and touched as they gave us
little gifts either bought with what small money they have or taken
from their own meagre collection of possessions and seeing the look
of contentment when we gratefully received them.
Saying goodbye to the family was also
difficult. They have been so attentive in caring for us and so
thoughtful in welcoming us and making us feel at home that since day
one we have felt completely comfortable living in their home.
Considering we didn't know Sam at all before we came out it really is
something of a miracle that we have all got on so well. Our last few
evenings were spent roaring in laughter as we attempted to do
impressions of each others accents (and of course the Americans
accents) and playing little tricks on each other including feeding
unsuspecting victims spoonfuls of cinnamon.
My mother has just delivered us a
freshly baked brownie and I've just finished a large americano...the
benefits of being back!
Our journey back was long and fairly
uneventful. We took a sleeper bus from Coonoor to Chennai though
despite the name and a surprisingly comfortable double bed neither of
us got a wink. We arrived early in the morning and greeted the day
with a brisk shouted argument with a rickshaw driver over a fare (I
was forewarned and therefore prepared to fight my corner) and settled
into our hotel room for a few hours of early morning kip. Eventually
we convinced ourselves to get up and do something with the day and
caught a bus into the centre of town to go to an Easter service in
English. As we sat through the service I couldn't help feeling we'd
left something behind. What was it? After an afternoon attempting to
shop in Chennai's sweltering markets and grabbing a quick lunch in a
blessedly air conditioned restaurant we settled in for the night by
watching Slumdog millionaire of all things.
Our flight from Chennai to Delhi was
rather frustrating. Long story short they neglected to call
passengers for check in and as a result we sat for about an hour
waiting when we could have been checking in. When we finally cottoned
on that check in was open we briskly checked our bags and got
directed the wrong way though immigration. After almost an hour in
the queue they realised their mistake, whisked us out of the line,
hurried us though the process and ran us to get our hand baggage
checked. I enjoyed my second shouted argument in as many days as I
got frisked by one official and lectured about the importance of
being early for a flight by another. “Why are you so late? You have
delayed the plane! What were you thinking? You are making us late!”
not amused by being lectured by an Indian about the importance of
time keeping I responded with fervour, “Don't get me started about
being late! We've been here for three hours! It's your fault not
ours!” Perhaps not the most sensible course of action, arguing with
an official when your plane is due to leave in a matter of minutes
but having had no sleep the night before and woken at 4:50 that
morning I was not exactly bubbling over with merciful compassion.
Finally, after running though the rest of the airport and being
berated by numerous other airport staff we got onto the plane last to
see everyone else sat down waiting (oh the undying shame of being one
of those people) and
silently seethed as we took off on the first leg of our journey. As
we passed over mountains and plains I was again assailed with the
feeling we'd left something behind...what was it?
We landed in
Heathrow after eight and a half hours of watching films on the plane
(they had 'The Hobbit' so I was a happy chappy) and greeted my family
who had come to meet us. I love that moment when walk you spot your
family for the first time in months, suddenly returning to live in
the giant fridge that is Great Britain doesn't seem too bad after
all. As we drove back to Thame amid well behaved motorist on
blessedly smooth roads I realised what we'd left behind. We'd left a
family behind. Sam and Laisha, all the children, our friends from
church and friends from America. It's amazing how invested you can
get in three months. We both felt thoroughly at home in India and
completely comfortable in Sam and Laisha's home. Our return was
always bound to be bitter sweet. We've traded our Indian family for
our British one. It's not a process that can be defined with 'good or
bad' the emotions are too complex for that but the result is that
whichever family we are with from now on we will be unable to forget
the other because unavoidably we've left part of our hearts back in
India.
