Moving home - bye bye Happy Valley

Its been just over a week since we packed everything in boxes and came over to our new home.

We have somehow emerged. Emerged from a haze of a string of late nights spent packing – and then the daze of the D-day of moving (mercifully with very little rain) and now a week of what can only be called a craze of the unpacking – and scrubbing every nook and cranny of the new residence. We have emerged somewhat intact – and in a pretty beautiful flat to boot!

Lets step into the a time machine and travel through the last fortnight again.

It all started just under a month ago. Enoch told Sheba that “wouldn’t it be good if we were living close to the Lok Hospital building.” Sheba told me. We talked and prayed and called Dr. Stephen. Could we move into one of the Bethany Trust flats which the nurses were vacating. “I don’t see why not” came Stephen’s reply.

The flat is a minute’s walk away from the Jeevan Sahara Kendra Community Care Centre at the Lok Hospital building. It is 5 minutes walk away from the children’s school (1 minute by scooter). We prayed and had a real peace to move forward.

And so with a sudden spurt our shift of house started.

Once the Bethany nurses had left the flat, we went to take a peek at the house. It desperately needed paint. The kitchen was caked in grease. Tears flowed.

We called a friend of ours who paints. He agreed to start in 2 days. A week later the flat was ready. During this week Andi burned the midnight oil – packing away different parts of our house in endless boxes.

The day before we were to move there was still work being done in the house. The day we moved the final painting and cleaning of the floors was still going on. But at 3 PM the truck and the 4 workmen came to our door. The shifting had begun.

All the boxes and the flotsam and jetsam of our Happy Valley home (minus a portion that we were able to give and horrors throw away) – all that was in boxes was transported out the door.

How some of stuff went out was a miracle. The sheer volume of it all meant that the truck had to do two journeys.

After it was all out – the Happy Valley flat – which has been our home for 6 long happy years – was eerily empty

Our stuff had all gone down and was stacked in the front of the building – and then packed in tight into the truck

They then drove the 2 km distance to our new house and unloaded everything. Most of the things went up by lift. But our elephant of a teak sofa would not fit in. So it was carried by hand. Four sets of hands and four backs did the work. Down 7 flights of stairs at Happy Valley – and up 6 flights to our new flat at Lok Upvan Ph. 1.

Needless to say a cheery chaos rained as the boxes kept flowing in.

Selvaraj – the owner of the truck told me that he had helped us shift when we moved into Happy Valley in early 2005. I vaguely remember him doing that. And then he said this us samay aap ka kum saman tha (you had less things then). Ouch – that hurt – and yet it was too true.

We tried to set things up – at least the basics – like the getting the gas hooked up.

And then it was suddenly 10.30 pm and time for our first supper.

We managed to set up the table and find the table cloth ….

… and then we sat down to eat our first meal in the new home. Food which we had cooked at Happy Valley and brought over with the boxes.

A tired foursome went to sleep in our old beds – but in a very new place

And a tired Daddy slept in later than usual the next morning (pic. by Enoch of course).

Over the next week the piles of boxes got smaller. The late nights continued. The war on grime was sounded again. Scrub, scrub.

On Tuesday night we had our first guests – Agnes and Annie who looked after Asha and Enoch while Sheba and I took the Bible study at Shanti’s home. On coming back we had a joyous meal together.

Finally on Friday most of the things were away.

We had a time of prayer to thank the Lord for His wonderful goodness in giving us a new place to stay – so close to our work.

We are so grateful for this new accommodation. We loved the Happy Valley flat – and are currently looking for someone to rent it from us – so that we can pass on the rent towards our new accommodation.

It is amazing to have shifted so quickly. Some things are still at loose ends – but all things considered it was a remarkably smooth transition.

We have been given such a god-like set of opportunities – to move when we want. How we want. So many of our fellow countrymen are stuck in the most horrible ‘homes’. Though we really enjoyed the 6 years at our Happy Valley flat – it is surprising how quick we were able to up and leave.

The pictures are now up. The books are (almost) all in place. Our family rhythms have started up in a new space. The key to it all – of course – is the amazing love that God has given for each other.

6 years ago, Enoch as a 2 year old stood up in the middle of the first night and said pointing to the door “home” “home.” He had spent the entire life till then in one place – the Vasant Vihar flat we were in then. Today Asha has moved 4 times in the 10 years of her life so far. How many more times will we (esp. the kids) move again? Who knows. What matters is that we are together.

And so we can go to sleep knowing that wherever we are – it is family that counts.

My family and other animals

Down in Nana Chowk – that large intersection west of Grant Road station in South Mumbai – next to the fire station – a 2 story bungalow juts out into the road. It’s the corner of the John Wilson Education Society compound and shares the wall with Mumbai’s finest. Every morning at 9 AM our fire-friends would test their air-raid warning siren. And every now and then a bell would peal and firemen would run pell-mell to the big red Bedford fire-engine – which would go clanking off to quell whatever fire had been reported.

We lived in that building. For over a decade. We arrived there by God’s grace when it was time for me to start my 1^st standard of the Cathedral and John Connon Infant school on Malabar hill. We left when I finished my 12^th at Woodstock School in Mussoorie.

In between were many amazing years.

This picture is from somewhere in the early 80s.

photo by Karen Swan

Our Nana Chowk house was a small ark.

Our home was the home to scores of animals. Pets which we acquired over the years. Most did not survive long. Some like the cats were multi-generational presences.

All were loved by us. As kids we would earnestly promise to look after the newest pet. But of course it was Mum who did all the work.

She would come in at the cat feeding time and have them tumbling over her feet – running ahead and behind her – making small jagging sorties with their tails held high like so many flags. Food time. They knew who it was who fed them. Never did our feline friends show such excitement to us kids.

Shall we count the animals?

In no particular order – and certainly not all at once – we had (ergo – Mum fed and tended for):

1. Cats (lots of them – sometimes as many as 4 at once – depending of the fertility of the then current mother cat). The originals were Snowy and Tiger – which were our first pets – right when we landed up in Nana Chowk.
2. Dog – one ½ Labrador (inherited from a Scottish missionary family). A real heart of gold. Would waggle her entire rear end when excited. Good rat catcher too.
3. Doves – 2 – they laid eggs – but they did not hatch – possibly because I put a crows egg in along with them…
4. Parrot – 1 – very loud.
5. Guinea pig – 1 – inherited from a family of German hippies who drove around the country in a modified truck. His original cage was a plastic milk carton.
6. Hamster – 1 – a birthday gift. He managed to escape and lived under the wooden floor for sometime. We managed to recapture him and loved him dearly.
   
7. Rabbits – many. They lived in a hutch outside. Sadly, they were eaten by folks when we went away to the US for a year in 1977. We were heartbroken at the news.
8. Fish – lots – mainly guppies. Some angel fish. A few neon tetras. The occasional "fighter" fish too.
9. Tortoises. A few. Another set of hand-me-downs. Never really bonded with these. Today having them would be illegal.
10. Chipmunk. 1 – I really loved him. Very sweet and small. Did not last long from what I can recall.
11. Budgies. A few. Didn’t last long as far as I can remember.
12. Owl – one – but that was in Mussoorie and that too only for 2 weeks before he decided to fly away – so it does not really count
13. Snake – one – but that also does not count since it was when I was in college. George was a boa from Venezuala that the infatiguable Nathaniel Tuggy smuggled into college – and then was banished to our off campus home. A very gentle fellow.
    

Hats off to Mrs. Noah – I mean Mum – for handling this vast menagerie (barring the last one of course)!

It was wonderful to grow up with animals.

18

He is 18.

Not his age.

This man has seen at least 35 revolutions around the sun since his birth.

18 is his weight.

18 kilogrammes.

He is basically skin and bones.

The ravages of HIV. The product of an immune system that has been run down – and allowed tuberculosis to take over. The result of many days of not eating. The end-point of many months of not being cared for.

We will call him Yohan. He came to the JSK Community Care Centre last week. He had been admitted at the civil hospital in Thane for 2 weeks without any improvement. They discharged him to die.

Yohan came to us with very little hope.

His friends brought him. Strapping lads. Who promised that they would be with him.

They have kept their promise so far.

There is always someone with Yohan. It may be his aged mother – who herself has suffered a stroke. Or one of his friends. Vikas is a particularly faithful presence.

Yohan is being loved. Our nurses are caring for him. Bathing him. Feeding him.

Sheba is with the nurse on duty as I type this. It is 10.10 PM. Yohan has a full bladder but cannot pass urine. They are working to help him.

Yohan came semi-comatose. He could not speak. He could barely move.

This morning there was a twinkle in his eye. He has started eating some food. He polished off a masala dosa yesterday. Two chappatis today. He has started saying a few words.

Yohan still has a long road to go. He needs lots of calories. He needs to overcome his TB. He needs to be knit back together again.

Yohan has a bed sore on his back. It was from the previous hospitalization. He has so little flesh that unless he is physically shifted every 4 hours – more sores will emerge. Our nurses are dressing the wound. The saintly Sister Chinnamma takes special joy in caring for Yohan. We are blessed to have a team like this serving at the Jeevan Sahara Kendra Community Care Centre.

Every morning and every evening – and several times in between Yohan is prayed for. It will be a miracle if he pulls through. But even if he does not – and we are working hard to keep that from happening – even if Yohan does not live too much longer - we know that his last days will have ones where he experienced some comfort and love in the midst of his sufferings.

Ringside

Our kids are part of who we are.

They are growing up hearing the words "HIV" "death" "orphan" and "widow".

But they are also in a ring-side seat - watching their parents live out the calling that God has given us.

They see our short-comings. And they see the amazing ways that God has used us and the team to touch people's lives.

Asha is in the JSK building as I type. She has morning school and came here at 1PM. As I had to go to Mumbai for the CORINTH meeting - Sheba (who had brought Enoch to the hospital at 11 AM) stepped out to drop Enoch off at school and pick up Asha.

In the meantime Sheba admitted a very sick woman. Anita (as we will call her) has a sudden on-set hemiplegia (partial paralysis). She has a fever - and it is probably due to a viral meningitis (brain infection). All this because her immunity is very low due to her HIV. A church partner of ours brought Anita in. Sheba admitted her. Anita may die. But that is what we are here for. To try to do what we can. To treat. To pray.

Asha got a ringside view of this.

And at the same time - had a wonderful afternoon. Agnes (Sheba's cousin) who is off duty also lives in the same building (all our single female staff are now housed with the Bethany Hospital nurses who live in the 2nd to 4th floors of our building). Asha went up to Agnes' room and spent a wonderful rest of the afternoon. She just popped in - her hair done up in two adorable pigtails - and asked for money to buy snacks at the canteen down stairs.

Its a wonderful life. A strange and trying one at times. But one where our children are part and parcel of the God-drenched solutions we are working through.

Dealing with Discouragement

We all love to hear happy stories. Especially when a person has been terribly ill and is now so much better.

Its heart-breaking when that person relapses back to their previous situation. Mr. Bali, for example. We first met him when he was at death's door. A long-term alcoholic, he lived in a shack 50 meters from our clinic. He was HIV positive and dying from TB.

Our JSK team got him started on TB treatment, nursed him back to health, fed him, talked and prayed with him. And amazingly he pulled through. He stopped drinking. Started walking. Got a job as a security guard. Things were rosy.

They are not anymore. Mr. Bali is back to the bottle. Our staff try to meet him, but he is nowhere to be found. When they do find him, they can hardly talk to him as he is in a drunken stupor.

He is still walking, but how long?

Our staff feel like they have been kicked in the gut. No happy, happy tales at this point. But they continue to try and meet Mr. Bali. We continue to pray that somehow he will listen to the still small voice to God speaking to him. We keep trying to reach out to Mr. Bali - with the hope that he will listen.

Listen and not drown out the voice with another plastic packet of country liquor.

Listen and act, making real steps forward into hope. Again.

Pilgrimage

Its 11.15 PM. The walls of our house are empty. There are cardboard boxes in every room. Some empty. Some full and taped shut and marked with black sketch pen.

We want to know what is where - and will soon be trying to figure out how to fit everything in at a new place.

The Eichers are moving again. It seems barely possible that we would do so. To leave our own home and take up a rented flat. With the hope that we will find people to rent ours.


The reason for our shifting?

Ever since we started work at the Jeevan Sahara Kendra Community Care Center at the Lok Hospital building - we have found our closely choreographed days slowly unraveling.

Asha now starts school at 7.15 AM in the morning - which means she needs to be down at the bus stop at 6.30 AM. Enoch still has afternoon school - so he goes at 12.40 PM. Asha returns at 1.30 PM and Enoch comes back at 6.40 PM. One of us has to be home when our kids are. And so the dance has become stretched and wonky.

Plus this - with the new phase of our work, we are going to be dealing with new HIV positive people who will present to us in a very sick condition - since they are coming to the JSK CCC for admission for complex (and usually grossly untreated) conditions. Sheba already had a night call last week - where she arrived at 8 PM only to find that the poor man had expired already.
With no other doctor in sight - we expect a lot more of this in the time to come.

And so the rather sudden decision to pull up and move. We are shifting from our Happy Valley flat over to an apartment at Lok Upvan Phase 1. We will be a 1 minute walk away from the Lok Hospital building. The children will be 5 mins walk from their school (though I think their Daddy will be dropping them off alot on the scooter).

And so every night over this week we have been packing. Putting things away. Decided on what to keep - what to give - and what to bin. It is good to do this. We sequester so much stuff away. Time to carve out the fat (though most seems to be disappearing into the boxes to be hauled off to the new place...).

In the mean time our new place is getting a painting and cleaning up. The process is (as usual) painfully slow. We go over everyday to see to the workman (yes it is one guy with the occasional side-kick) is doing.

Today we said the classic lines: "You want to move in by Saturday?" As if he had never heard of such an idea. As if we had not been telling him this since he told us 'one weeks time' 10 days ago.

Its only been 2 weeks since we made the decision to shift. And it looks like in 2 days we will (at least we hope to).

There is still more packing and paper work awaiting me before the midnight hour strikes.

Our latest leg of this raggedly grand pilgrimage that we are on together as a family unfolds.

Onwards ever. Backwards never. Or at least not most of the time.

Prayers always accepted on behalf of the Eichers. Strong backs and willing arms welcome on Saturday afternoon too (D.v.).

Not again.

The SMS beeped on my phone at 8.19 PM last night.

I was washing dishes.

The SMS was from a friend telling me he would not be able to come to our home for the regular Wed. nite men's prayer meeting

"Bro i cant come today here very tight traffic bcoz of blast"

Because of blast?

A minute later I called up Jolly (one of our elders).

Yes. 3 bombs went off in Mumbai. 20 dead so far. Many injured. Rush hour. Crowded market places.

I felt sick. The whole day the rain had been pouring down. Things were pretty grey. And now this.

Sheba was with the kids. What to tell. Another blast. Should I wait till the kids sleep? But they will find out anyway. In I go. Tell the news. Another blast.

The BBC website tells us that 21 are dead - so far - and over 100 injured. Over the next few days their stories will drip in. Some will die. Some will be maimed. Some will fade away. More numbers to the cruelty of the human heart.

What a world Asha and Enoch are growing up in. One where parcels are to be feared. Where the news flashes and then people pick up their phones to check if everyone is accounted for and ok.

How long till I know someone personally who has died in a blast? Pakistan has seen over 30,000 people killed by fellow Pakistanis over the past decade. We are not as high in this sorry contest - but the drip drip drip of killing continues.

We were three of us who met for prayer last night. Three men praying from 9.30 to 10.30 as we do every Wed. night. Three men calling out to God as the rain pounded down in the darkness outside.

Come Lord Jesus and set things right. Come Judge and King and Restorer. We need you more than ever. The brutality of yesterday tells us this again and again.