Youth Against AIDS Clubs

We are losing too many people to HIV/AIDS.

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At Jeevan Sahara Kendra we are committed to helping people with HIV and their families - at whatever stage of the disease they are in - just found out - or well into the sickness - or at the end of life. We are here to help and to see people living with HIV/AIDS and their families receive hope, health and eternal life.

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But after 6 years of working and over 130 of our friends passing away - we also want to see people not get HIV in the first place.

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One small set of steps we are taking towards this is youth-focussed and run HIV prevention programme that we have been trying to nurture called Youth Against AIDS.

At the end of last month we had an amazing training which Ken Mcrae from the Dehradun Youth Centre facilitated. We had gathered to learn how to run Youth Against AIDS clubs (YAA clubs for short). A small group of us gathered at the Bible Centre in Pune for an intense time of learning.

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And intense it was.

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Ken started out by telling us how he became involved with young people in Dehra Dun. In the space of a year, he found out that 4 young people had committed suicide in a small neighbourhood of 800 odd middle class families. Two of these were from families who attended church. Ken waited for some time and then met with the pastors to find out what they had done since the tragedy had taken place. One pastor said that everyone was sad and determined to do something - but what? The other pastor said that the boy in question was a ruffian anyway.

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Spurred on by a desire to see real change for young people, Ken and his team did a survey among local schools and found that young people overwhelmingly wanted to have a place where they could drop in and talk. They wanted people to come to their schools and speak straight with them about sex, relationships, drugs, changes. Ken and the DYC team took up the challenge. Today there is a network of relationships among the young people - with youth reaching out to youth and bringing hope.
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We were the blessed to have Ken walk us through a series of sessions aimed at helping us reach out to young people. Ken hammered home a simple message. We have to love each person - and let them know that they are loved and accepted - no matter how rotten and mixed up they may feel (and may be).

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Each person, each thought, each confidence is precious.

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We have to do a lot of listening - and put our judgements on hold - to build a level of trust where a young person is able to tell from the heart what he or she is going through. Clubs offer a unique opportunity to break out of the straight-jacket of fear that stops youth from speaking the truth of their lives to figures in authority. This silence can be deadly - as the 4 suicides that started Ken on this path show. Clubs are wonderful at building friendships - and affirming the value of each person - as well as that of the group. We learned again and again that even more than the content of what we talk / discuss / teach during the club sessions - it is how we do it that will shape the lives of our friends.

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The Barthe Kadam curriculum which we used as the basis for the YAA clubs is a powerful tool to this end. It is open-ended and user-friendly - specially designed to include everyone in meaningful and fun activities that lead to discussing things that matter. Dr. Jameela George and her colleagues at EHA have used this programme across north India with adolescent groups - especially in the rural areas they serve. The principles are the same for the urban setting - every young person has dreams - and yet so few attain even a fraction of them. The changes that take place during puberty and early adulthood are often so poorly understood that before the young person knows it, they have made choices that bring only sadness. Our experience with so many end-of-life experiences with people who are in their early thirties and dying of AIDS only serves as a sad back-drop to this.

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At the same time, Ken helped remind us that the process of change, of maturing and experimenting with life that young people go through is full of such wonderful potential as well. Parents find it threatening to see their children make decisions of their own - and of course some of these end up with harmful results - but the very fact that youth are choosing things points to their taking their destiny into their hands. What a tremendous set of ideas and energy young people bring to the table - and how sad that the older generation usually loses out on the many chances to channel the energy and potential of youth because they elders are too afraid to trust young people. What marvellous opportunities for new partnerships we see!

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As with all good things - this camp came to an end too. Ken had to go back to Dehra Dun (and then on to China where his daughter and her husband are working - in the very area the earthquake took place). We had to return to our colleagues in Thane and all the other work JSK is doing. The youth leaders and pastors who attended had congregations to return too as well. Our hope is that every participant would be able to start a YAA club through their local youth fellowships. Lets see what happens when we all get back 'home'!

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At a last evening bonfire we reflected on what we had experienced over the 3 days till then. Each person was deeply moved and changed by the experience. It was exhillerating to be with Ken and get deep insights from the people he and his colleagues have worked with. There was a deep bonding and fellowship among all the participants and we left the camp as friends. The exercises were engaging, the food was superb, the worship was great. Each one of us was deeply challenged to work with young people with a new urgency - and a new friendliness and respect. Each one of us was challenged to be more honest and transparent in how we work through tough issues ourselves - and to be a friend and helper to this upcoming generation. We are once again aware of the power of God to change lives and shape destinies!
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Please pray for the YAA clubs this year. Though each person who came was a blessing - we were sad that so many others missed out on such an amazing time. The YAA club concept, using the Barthe Kadam materials is moving forward though. Just this evening I heard from bro. Joshi that his team had recently used the materials among the girls at Mukti Mission - and met with a tremendous response from them!

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May we see many young lives changed - for the long term good! Its time we stopped AIDS - and the only way is through changed lives. Impossible in the eyes of the world - but with the help of the Holy Spirit?

Grey Rain

300 mm in 4 days. Welcome to the wettest start of the Mumbai monsoon in 7 years.

Its as if someone emptied a huge celestial bucket on us. Last week we were sweltering. This week drenched. No subtle transition. No lingering thunder in the horizon. Just a straight drench. The buildings already their monsoonal grey. All roads sprouting their muddy potholes - I saw a man suddently sink down to his calves in one - thinking it was just a shallow puddle.

Though we crib about our leaky walls - in our 7 year old appartment building - there is real unadulterated misery in the vast sprawl of shanties/substandard tentements where the bulk of our people live. The water just doesn't stop - there is no place to dry anything - all turns to damp - and mould. And then there is the matter of walking about outside. Liquid filth swirls. No way but through it - pants rolled up as much as possible...

The thing I noticed this year - in the very first week of our dear monsoon is the lack of light. We are so used to the sun - to not see it all day - to be overcast with grey brings a sombreness to everything. It makes me remember the grey days of school in 3rd standard - the weak tube-lights in the cavernous rooms and the vague menace of the school books.

And all of this for me who has an almost God-like freedom to go where I want - whenever. On Monday I was whizzing around on our scooter, doing some odd jobs, and passed a man in the rain. He was using an orthodpaedic walking frame to move forward, his leg was in some kind of a cast/bandage. It was sheathed in plastic. He had a black plastic bag he used as a hood. Where was he going? Why did he need to walk so far in such a pathetic state? Who looks after him? What was he doing out there - soaked?

And what of the man who can't even leave his bed. The steady drip and dampness his only companion. Or Mrs. Mimosa whose roof (if you can dignify it with that name) is riddled with holes? Her alcoholic son off to work for 12 hours a day. The little girl she has to help her showing up occasionally as she was beaten by the son. A small alarm clock tells her when she has to take her ART medications at 9 AM and 9 PM - but she rarely gets to eat food - let alone be cared for in comfort in her leaking shack.

There may be green on the hillsides. But it is looking pretty grey in the great city of ours.

Mangoes

A small tribute to the king of fruits. The amazing mango.




Where can you get such a combination of sweetness and tang - of the goodness of juice just running down your hands - and yet you want more?

Each mango is so totally different. You never know till the first bite - will it be tart? or sweet as all the gulab jamuns in the world?

I am a 1/4 though one as I write this in the middle of a mercifully quiet night. The slightly acid taste of the current mango puckers up my lips - and makes me want more.

Another few bites separated the last para and these lines. The cheeks are almost done. Now what all that is left the to suck and gnaw at the seed. The proverbial gutli. Please excuse me while my hands get gloriously yellow!

Bead

As I swept the floor this morning, out from under a couch rolled a single orange bead.

It was a cheap plastic number but it set my mind back.

The bead was one of the sack-full of beads which were in Mr. Zacheus' 'store-front' home. A tiny room right on the main road of a neighbouring slum, where the door was a metal shutter that opened up or shut the street to the room and vice-versa. Mr Zacheus, wasting away on his bed, was looked after by his illiterate wife while his four children played around him.

The beads were a small way of making some money. The mother and kids would sit on the floor and string them. Cheap orange things. For each 'necklace' they would earn a few paisa. A day's work did not get them much. But it did get them something. And it meant they could do it in their little room - and when they wanted to. Paid by the piece.

On one of our last visited to this home, Mrs. Zacheus had given a few beads to Asha. The one that rolled out from underneath the cot must be one of the last survivors.

Where are you Mrs. Zacheus? You left in sorrow after your husband died. You went off to the village in far-off Uttar Pradesh saying you would return. But other after a few calls we have not heard from you. We pray for you - occasionally - and know that you will need medication for your own HIV disease - which will continue to eat away your health.

And what of the kids? How big they must be by now? Are you able to nurture them? What do they remember of their father? What do they remember of their early years in urban Thane? Who do they call themselves now?

Mr. Zacheus has gone to a better place. No platitudes here. Facts.

Mrs. Zacheus? Where has she gone? Is she still alive? Does anyone know?

Friends

How precious friends are. And how few we all seem to have when it gets down to the nitty-gritty. Being real. Being part of our lives. Being there.

John and Nalini Gabriel fit the bill. When we came to Mumbai 6+ years ago they were part of the local Hebron assembly we attended – and lived just round the corner from us. With a daughter Asha’s age – and then adding another to complement our Enoch’s arrival – we were blessed to have such a loving couple who took us in and were there for us.

Enoch, Jasper, Asha and Nikita get ready to dig into some rice and prawn curry!

We are a good 5 years on since moving over to Thane – and our friendship still holds. The years have seen some difficult times in the lives of both families – but it has been a privilege to keep growing with each other.

This past week Asha and Enoch spend 3 days with their dear friends Nikita and Jasper. Being the last week of their summer holidays the kids had a ball.

The Eicher and Gabriel kids dig into all natural ice-creams - Asha's bear Gloria and Nikita's Twixie are also on hand.

As parents we were able to meet and participate in a prayer meeting at John and Nalini’s place when we went to drop off the kids. Though mid-week, we were able to spend the night with our friends (including a trip to a natural ice-cream parlour at 10.30 PM) before an early-morning bus took us back to Thane.

Asha had had appendicitis the week before. John and Nalini’s prayers were among the first and most fervent. We are so glad Asha recovered so fast (and without surgery – though it seems we may have to go for it later). Seeing her tuck into Auntie Nalini’s prawn curry, you would never have imagined that this was the same girl in such pain just a week prior!

We know that God does not bring us randomnly into people's lives - and vice versa.

Thanks John and Nalini - for being friends. We are so grateful to God for you!

Being used

While we were on holiday with our parents in Mussoorie last month we had an unexpected visitor: Mrs. Gladys Staines.

Mum and Dad knew Gladys from her days with OM in the early 80s – before she met and married bro Graham Staines and settled down to serve in Orissa.

Sister Gladys had some work in Dehra Dun and took the opportunity to come up the hill and meet Mum and Dad for some fellowship and prayer.

Sheba and I and the kids were privileged to meet this humble servant of God in such an unexpected setting – while drinking coffee on the terrace of Shanti Kunj, with the evening air taking on its first crispness as the sun painted the oak forests golden.

One of the things that struck me from our chat was this: Sister Gladys talking about how glad she was to be able to teach scripture in Australian public schools. She shared that since she is living with her daughter who is studying medicine, she found out that the Australian state still teaches Scripture as a subject in schools – but that there is always a shortage of willing teachers.

Sister Gladys and another lady decided to take on the challenge for a local school and found it to be so meaningful. There as such a joy in seeing young lives interact with God’s word and changes taking place. Sister Gladys also shared that though she did not start the teaching with this in mind, it did allow her to be with young boys of an age her younger son was when he died. Looking at Enoch she mentioned that he had died when he was still at home with her.

Looking back on the conversation, what strikes me about Sister Gladys is her willingness to serve. Though she is known the world over now – and has many speaking invitations – she retains the essential willingness to serve – to be used in whatever way possible. I wonder how many of those little boys realized who their tall lady Scripture teacher was –and what her life has already seen.

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies....

Another ending

Mr. Langru died on Friday.

We were in our afternoon staff meeting and had discussed his case. He was unconscious and his wife refused to visit him in the government hospital. We had suggested she bring him to the Jeevan Sahara Kendra facility so that at least some dignity could be experienced by Mr. Langru.

She refused.

She was afraid that in her absence their things would be stolen from her pavement hovel.

Rahul and Shanti had gone to visit Mr. Langru’s brother to try and persuade him to do something. Though he had previously refused – saying he would only come after Mr. Langru died to do the last rites – he actually paid a short visit, but nothing else.

In reviewing Mr. Langru’s condition, one of the staff pointed out that he had said a simple prayer to Jesus before he had slipped into the comatose state he was in.

We talked and prayed about the situation. I told our staff that we had done what we could. It was heartbreaking, but this is the reality that so many face. Mr. Langru had been spared from death – but his return to health and work only lead to a bitter slipping back into alcohol. His bridges were burned. Other than our staff who visited him in the hospital he had no one.

As we finished the meeting some time later – a call came for Sheba. It was Mr. Langru’s wife. He had died. She wanted our staff Rahul to come and help.