May 2, 2012 Kolkata, Brickfields

Brickyards students line up

Distracted student making pretend bricks

Students displkaying their hand designs in their Hindi class

Sr. Jane explaining as we leave the Brickyards

This morning’s trip to the school at the Brickyard did not start smoothly, a communication mixup led us to a late start. As we crawled out of Calcutta we had more views of people living in squalid conditions, yet making do the best they could. Gradually city gave way to countryside. After a few missed turns, we finally arrived at the brickfields.

A few of us were desperate for bathrooms, Sarah in her hurry lost her flip camera but gained a story. The girls need an explanation on how to use the room reserved for the sole purpose of number 1. There was no hole, just a flat cement floor. The girls were relieved when the room for “number 2” had a drain of sorts.  

We walked into the Brickfields where migrant workers from Bihar came mostly as family units to work there for six months until the monsoon came in early June. Every family member was expected fulfill a quota. Children as young as nine were expected to work. We watched as a woman repeatedly filled a mold with laterite, a red soil, and created brick after brick. The owner did, however, allow a “school” to open up to teach the children. We saw two classes taking place under a poplar tree. The children sat on tarpaulins on the ground. The teacher had a trunk and a few teaching aids. Some children had slates. One class was learning Hindi and traditional crafts. They had made patterns on paper outlines of hands, similar to the henna that Nicki had on her hand yesterday. The younger ones were counting numbers. One child was filling a plastic toy brick with sand, mimicking the brickfield work.

As the younger class left, they lined up to shake Les’ hand. Some of their eyes were yellow with jaundice. One of the big health problems faced by these children is water-borne infection such as dysentery or, as is probably the case here, hepatitis. We saw a second part of the school and talked to some of the parents. They were happy that their children were in school. The heat and lack of food took its toll on us Nicki, in particular, felt faint. She was lead into a villager’s home. It seemed as though the entire town had their eyes upon her. We arrived back in Loreto Sealdeah near 3pm, and said goodbye to Sr Igora. We ate a late lunch of samosas and Madeira cake back at the Baptist Misssion.

No rest for us this afternoon, we were off with Sr. Flora to New Market. The van was crowded and hot. We were relieved when Sr. Flora led us into an air conditioned complex. Nicki, Michelle, Natalie, Jackie and Sarah bought Salvare Chemis. This was a bit of an adventure. The shop keepers took our measurements and tailored the outfits. We were required to pick them up 30 minutes after purchase. Ironically the tops were fitted well, while trousers were one size fits all. A useful draw string allows for these trousers to be fitted to everybody type. That is off course only when the drawstring is actually there. When Nikki looked over her newly purchased Slavare Chemis, she noticed that they had not given her a sting even though in her negotiations at the time of purchase she had explicitly asked for one. When she asked the shop keeper about this he said that it would cost extra. Natalie indignantly stepped in and told the shop keeper that if he did not give her a string, Nicky would return the outfit and  get her money back. The shop keeper taken aback obliged.

 From there we were driven to the Loreto Mother House for a concert by the Kolkata Police Band. There was a curious selection of music that featured the theme from the Godfather. Someone had a sense of humour!

After the concert we said our goodbyes to Sister Flora, giving her Jackie’s gift of a bowl full of cookies, some hand creams, Sr. Jane’s Body Creams, and Les’ set of 25 Questions books. After a long and exhausting day Jackie, Jan, Jane, and Michelle went directly back to Baptist Mission, while the rest of us had dinner at Punjaab Five Rivers again. By time we were finished supper, the heat broke and it was raining hard. Rather than walking home, the concierge summoned a taxi for us. Nicki, Natalie, and Sarah got in the back with little problem. Les was invited into the small cabs front seat even though it was already occupied by a rather sizeable gentleman. Les squeezed in beside the driver and his companion-- it was so tight that he had to take two or three pulls to get their door closed. We weren’t sure why the extra man was there he was there until we started our drive. Because it was so hot, the windows were completely covered in condensation. It was the man in the middle’s job to wipe the condensation from the window with his sleeve. All the windows were open to prevent further fog.  The girls in the back were drenched by the rain coming in through the windows. We arrived back at the Baptist Mission, with a short and sodden sprint to the doors.