Today we spent all day a 90 minute taxi ride away into a greener and more mountainous area outside the city in a boys' home for children with HIV and AIDS.
At the home we were greeted by much excitement. Several of the boys were familiar faces from our last visit. We played games with them and did all kinds of craft projects with them. Charlotte, who has a black belt, taught the boys some great defensive karate moves. It was a big hit. And I have a bruise to prove it! Trudy bought shoes for all the boys for the soon coming monsoon season. After sharing a simple meal with them we were able to interview the "mom" and "dad" of the boys' home as well as some of the boys. Most of them have no family at all.
One of the boys saw his own dad throw kerosene on his mother after an intense argument and lit her on fire when he was two years old. The boy tried to save his mother. The fire took four of the fingers on his left hand and greatly severed his leg. His mother died before his eyes and his father ran away. In the hospital they gave him blood transfusion; however, through it he contracted HIV.
Before we left I went with two of the youngest boys to get ice cream for everyone. It had been a long time since they had enjoyed this type of treat so they were really excited. As we were walking along the dusty road to the ice cream shop one of the boys took my hand. The entire journey to the store and back to the home he did not let go of my hand. As we were walking he kept pressing my hand tighter with his little fingers about every other second as if to really take this "experience" with him for a long time. I was something of a "dad" and a big "brother" for a few minutes. It was really special. It also made me sad because it was clear that behind the smiles there was still a lot of brokenness. It was no longer about making some boys happy with ice cream. This was about a little boy who needed love. Much love.
Later my two "ice cream carriers" took me out on a field where they were in the process of building new housing complexes to teach me cricket. We had so much fun! They outscored me in every way but it was still a great time.
When we landed in India I got some terrible news. Two boys, Sachin (8) and Vilas (14), whom I and another Saved by Nails board member had spent time with on our previous visit had died of AIDS. I have tried to process this sad news since we got here but it has not been easy. I only have the strength to share about Vilas at this time. The staff of the boys' home shared about his life and his last moments on this earth. The cook had spent eleven years with Vilas watching him grow up as her own son. She broke down crying as she related the story of his life. It was tough knowing this child had been been in my arms not long ago. He died at 4 am on a Sunday morning. Everyone we talked to shared how he was a good kid, who was loved by everyone. He never gave anyone any trouble. He took care of his friends. And he was bright. I talked to his best friend. You could tell that he really missed Vilas. He still has nightmares about the tragic passing of a beautiful little boy. On the long road back I wrote the following poem, which is dedicated to Vilas.
I Held You In My Arms
You were weak, you were small
Your form could only be carried
Your eyes would not stay open
You could not speak, only cry
and the sun was going down over your life
You were a good boy
You were lovable
You were kind
Your friends were many,
and you took great care of them
The shadow would not let go of you
Your life slipped out before our eyes
In a breath your little life was gone
When the sun rose you were no more
and we are left asking why?
We will sing your song
We will carry your voice
We will remember your life
One day our mourning will be gone,
but until then our tears will remain
At the home we were greeted by much excitement. Several of the boys were familiar faces from our last visit. We played games with them and did all kinds of craft projects with them. Charlotte, who has a black belt, taught the boys some great defensive karate moves. It was a big hit. And I have a bruise to prove it! Trudy bought shoes for all the boys for the soon coming monsoon season. After sharing a simple meal with them we were able to interview the "mom" and "dad" of the boys' home as well as some of the boys. Most of them have no family at all.
One of the boys saw his own dad throw kerosene on his mother after an intense argument and lit her on fire when he was two years old. The boy tried to save his mother. The fire took four of the fingers on his left hand and greatly severed his leg. His mother died before his eyes and his father ran away. In the hospital they gave him blood transfusion; however, through it he contracted HIV.
Before we left I went with two of the youngest boys to get ice cream for everyone. It had been a long time since they had enjoyed this type of treat so they were really excited. As we were walking along the dusty road to the ice cream shop one of the boys took my hand. The entire journey to the store and back to the home he did not let go of my hand. As we were walking he kept pressing my hand tighter with his little fingers about every other second as if to really take this "experience" with him for a long time. I was something of a "dad" and a big "brother" for a few minutes. It was really special. It also made me sad because it was clear that behind the smiles there was still a lot of brokenness. It was no longer about making some boys happy with ice cream. This was about a little boy who needed love. Much love.
Later my two "ice cream carriers" took me out on a field where they were in the process of building new housing complexes to teach me cricket. We had so much fun! They outscored me in every way but it was still a great time.
When we landed in India I got some terrible news. Two boys, Sachin (8) and Vilas (14), whom I and another Saved by Nails board member had spent time with on our previous visit had died of AIDS. I have tried to process this sad news since we got here but it has not been easy. I only have the strength to share about Vilas at this time. The staff of the boys' home shared about his life and his last moments on this earth. The cook had spent eleven years with Vilas watching him grow up as her own son. She broke down crying as she related the story of his life. It was tough knowing this child had been been in my arms not long ago. He died at 4 am on a Sunday morning. Everyone we talked to shared how he was a good kid, who was loved by everyone. He never gave anyone any trouble. He took care of his friends. And he was bright. I talked to his best friend. You could tell that he really missed Vilas. He still has nightmares about the tragic passing of a beautiful little boy. On the long road back I wrote the following poem, which is dedicated to Vilas.
I Held You In My Arms
You were weak, you were small
Your form could only be carried
Your eyes would not stay open
You could not speak, only cry
and the sun was going down over your life
You were a good boy
You were lovable
You were kind
Your friends were many,
and you took great care of them
The shadow would not let go of you
Your life slipped out before our eyes
In a breath your little life was gone
When the sun rose you were no more
and we are left asking why?
We will sing your song
We will carry your voice
We will remember your life
One day our mourning will be gone,
but until then our tears will remain
Wherever you are in the world today please take a moment to remember the life of a beautiful, lovable 14-year old boy named Vilas.
I am one voice,
Vijay
