Chennai, 28 Jan. 2006:

Today I met Carmel, a woman who, along with her husband Steven and her daughter Lucy, runs the NGO Share & Care (S&C). After lunch we headed out to one of their projects on the outskirts of the city.

At 3:00 p.m. on the last Saturday of each month. Carmel and a few dedicated staff and volunteers bring food, toiletries, and medicines to a group of fifty elderly men and women—mostly women—who are very poor with no one to care for them. S&C rents a van and driver for the afternoon, and loads it up with 10-kilo sacs of rice and plastic bags full of a month’s supply of soaps, sugar, tea, dal, garlic, spices, wheat flour, and a kind of semolina-like grain. The staff has prepared these the night before. There are also cooking oils, and coconut oil for the hair. The bundles are piled into the back of the van, and off we go on a 30-minute drive to the facility.

We pull up a little late, and an orderly queue of seated elderly men and women greets us. Tables and chairs appear and are arranged for the various stations. The elderly are served tea and biscuits—this always comes first, as some of them have traveled here with much difficulty. Charts are given out to each person, and they carry these throughout the afternoon. The charts provide a written record of the food, medications, and financial assistance they have received since they first came to the project.

Carmel motions for me to sit with her to help give out the medications prescribed by the doctor. At first they come, one by one, but after about 5 people, they arrive at our station quickly and there is often a backlog. Before us they have been weighed and seen by the doctor. Carmel and I work as a team—she puts together the pills at the top of the list, which are usually the more prescription types, and I bring out the cough syrup, eye drops, tonic, another bottle of a strengthening preparation, along with pills of calcium, multi-vitamin, and vitamin B. We move as quickly as possible, Carmel gracefully counting out the pills, and I somewhat more clumsily doing the same. The pills are dropped into a makeshift bag of recycled newspaper, handed over to the men and women with some instructions on how to take them from Carmel. Then with a namaskar, off they go.

After our station, they meet with Lumina, Carmel’s daughter, who sits at a table just outside. Here they talk about how their month has been—health, family issues, and anything else on their minds. They receive their monthly rations and 50 rupees, which is really not much, but allows them a bit more comfort. Finally they dip their finger in ink and place their fingerprint next to their name; this acknowledges that they have gotten all these things. In groups of 4 or 5, they help each other home with their sacs, because one by one they could not possibly carry what they have.

Some of the elderly come with a family member, others with no one. The blind are helped by others who can barely walk themselves. Mostly they express appreciation, but a few seem distant. Some walk upright, others are bent over. If they were not given these rations they would starve.

Towards the end a group crowded around a worker to ask about joining the program. The very unfortunate situation is that there is funding for only the 50 most desperately needy cases, and until one of them dies, there is no room for anyone else. They put their names on a list, and if someone does die, they will be checked out to determine if they qualify.

On the ride back Carmel speaks about these deserving elderly, and how, at the end of their lives, they should feel as though there are some people who care about them, and have some reassurance. Coming from her is a deep respect and love, manifesting in kindness and care for these elderly poor. Although they may experience some relief due to the medicines, it seems that the main effect of these afternoons is that someone is looking out for them. With so little time left, they receive attention and respect. I had only admiration for the elderly who made an incredible effort just to show up, and for all the staff who worked with them with such gentleness.

Funding for the program comes from HelpAge India. However, it looks like funding will cease in May due to lack of resources. If no new funding agency is found, these people will starve to death.

With love from Chennai,

Ellen

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