Want to know how you're being a part of the solution? Read the stories of how CompassionArt-supported projects are putting miracles into flesh and blood.
Words by Craig Borlase, photography by Andy Hutch.
November 2007
I'd like to tell you a story. It starts with the words 'I was visiting a slum in Mumbai, India…' but I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I'm not one of those well-travelled writers who have a severely battered passport and a personal anecdote for every occasion. This trip was my first to a developing nation and I'd been waiting a long time for it to come around. So I was a little excited, to say the least, and had prepared fully for what I was convinced would be my reactions; a large dose of guilt at western-extravagance and a side-serving of impotence as I felt powerless to help. But I was wrong. Very wrong…
I was visiting a slum in Mumbai, India. It was the last day of the trip and up to that point I'd been experiencing what I'd been told were the usual first-time reactions to the country; a little overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, smells and chaos; mildly anxious about the prospect of coming down with food poisoning; and totally petrified by the high-speed taxi rides. But it was not until I was gently sweating in front of a classroom full of 79 smiling, singing, praying children that I realised I was experiencing something that would stay with me forever.
Finally it all made sense; at last I understood why Christianity and Justice are two words that were made to sit together. It's a little embarrassing to admit it, but it was only as I sat there in the education & feeding centre for kids of commercial sex workers that I realised how truly impressive Christianity can be.
I was feeling inspired, encouraged, challenged and incredibly proud of the work of Christians like Ratnamala – a social worker unlike any I've ever met; her tour of a handful of slum dwellings was a blend of Mother Teresa and Princess Diana – "because of her we will be accepted" explained the pastor who had brought us there, and he was right.
We met Indira – a mother of two kids that are both supported by the project – whose life was too private to share with a tourist like me. Pushpa told me she wasn't a Christian but that she was pleased her children has been helped by those that were, and that really didn't seem to be a problem for anyone. Ratnamala explained that these were both women whose lives could well improve through their work with their children. Sadly, HIV may have other plans.
Ratnamala and her three colleagues work with the kids who previously had to hide under beds while their mothers worked. She works with families of four who try to survive on 60 pence each day, with 12 year old girls coping with the aftershocks of rape, with the ageing man who has no chance of paying for the medicine he needs to help his ailing sight. She helps the young couple whose home is pristine yet whose hopes are all welded to the thought that one day they might move out and reach a little further up the ladder, leaving the slums behind.
The team work with proxy husbands – guys who are some way between the status of client, pimp and teenage boyfriend; the girls no longer work with other men, but the arrangement is more financial than emotional, as if the men have put a deposit down on a future purpose. The team work with them, offering love, support and the unswerving belief that these individuals whom life has threatened to overwhelm on many occasions are worth the very best that they can give.
I was left silent, but convinced that I had seen the most impressive thing on earth.