Chennai Experiences Part IV

I'm back. And what a myriad of experiences it's been...

...sniffing the air, like one does in a new place, head swivelling from side to side trying to catch the view... finding that the sights and sounds (and sniffs) just somehow fit the city's character, and adjusting to it, like slipping into a pair of shoes for the first time, and slowly getting used to it- the way it fits around your toes, or how it pinches a bit at the back; and just when I was starting to get the feel of the shoe, having to ease them off and leave them behind, with the feeling that there were still places to see and things to do...

...meeting the dedicated workers at CMCT, with their different jobs and responsibilities, each one striving to do the best with what God has entrusted to them, to help their fellow citizens... seeing how they go day to day carrying out the hard work of making tough decisions on who they can help best and how; going by faith on where their monetary and material help comes from, and depending on God for all help... and through everything still smiling, still laughing, still all-rounded in their concern and knowledge and capabilities, and very helpful to a bunch of students who were more of a hindrance...

...being in contact with the people they work among, seeing how they live- in one-room affairs with everything thrown into that tiny space- sleeping quarters, clotheslines, cooking and dining area, storage space, pet compound, etc., and not a hint of a special place for washing up... hearing their stories, some okay, some horrid, yet told with a straight face... seeing their smiles of gratitude when they receive things which they can ill-afford- good medical care, nutritious food, funding for education... yet finding out that these people have great self-dignity, preferring to find work on their own to support themselves and their families rather than just depending on doled-out help...

...seeing the destruction the tsunami wreaked on Chennai and its surroundings, and how it influenced its people... seeing people on the streets, living with the remains of their houses right around the corner... experiencing the joy the villagers feel with the arrival of much-needed help, and their simple hospitality and open-ness... yet realising that help for them is fraught with many snags and loopholes and frauds...

...taking BP after BP while trying to set each person at ease with a wordless smile, where my words would only cause them to shrug, the stethoscope in my ear till it ached bad... watching talented doctors perform surgery in the small operating theatre in the CMCT's Bethany Clinic... having quiet delight in helping the dentist prime his antiquated anaesthesia syringe, and cringing as he non-chalantly wrenched out teeth from his patients' mouths...

...visiting one of the government hospitals... seeing its rundown condition and cramped quarters, haphazard planning and crowded hallways and rooms... observing operations done with minimal materials and minimal fuss and sterilisation... holding my breath in the burns unit where the smell of rotting burnt flesh was almost too much to bear... walking around the beds of the burn victims, faces and torsos and hands and legs turned lobster-red and butter-yellow and ash-grey from their burns... hearing to their grunts and cries of pain as their bodies try to heal their ravaged flesh and skin... listening to their stories: a suicide attempt gone wrong, a cooking-oil mishap; all in dismal conditions, yet the nurses, and the patients, and the doctors, make do...

...teaching, playing and talking with the children both in and out of CMCT... seeing the bright sparks of intelligence in their eyes and faces, unsullied by the realities of their lives... hearing their tinkling laughs, their parrotted voices, their sweet voices lifted in song, and them calling out "Hallo Aunty!"...

...my heart being brought up to my throat more than once on the streets by near-accidents as I perceived them... standing in awe as the bus I'm on does a tight but neat 3-point-turn in a crowded slum area... bargaining for auto fares... standing up for my rights against crafty operators...

...living with two vivacious young women... feeding them unsavoury Maggi Mee... trying to keep sugar and eggs away from one of them, and taking a treasured electronic device from another... playing game after game of ginrummy to while the night away before retiring to books and bed...

...standing in front of row upon row of books, each one sporting an unbelievable price, and going through them slowly, picking out choice selections... James Herriot... Agatha Christie... Margaret Atwood... P.G. Wodehouse... Jonathan Stroud... Paulo Coelho... Damon Galgut... the Alexander Solzhenitzyn (unfinished), Guy de Maupassant, "Goodbye Mr Chips" and "Mister God This is Anna" (unfinished) I stood to read... and my "favourites": Langman's embryology and Katzung's Pharmacology...

...just seeing the remarkable hand of God in each and every one of the acitivities in CMCT, guiding and sheltering them from major harm... a gentle but strong presence manifesting Himself through the prayers, the songs, the daily chapel services, and the people who do His work...

As time passes by, some things will be revealed, and some other things will be lost. Yet with this trip, with all its shocks and delights and highs and lows, I think more memories will stay than fade. It's the sort of thing that sticks in your mind, and molds your thinking and perspective about things. My outlook on medicine is the same, yet less cloudy like it was becoming - the mists cleared by this different perspective. And I love Malaysia very very much. :>

I've also seen the amazing power of agape and faith and resilience. Of hearts for God doing things for God. Of people seeing a need, and filling it, with only trust to spur them onwards. Of the shortcomings and the excuses I've had for not doing the same. Perhaps I shall finally learn from all of this.

To the two vivacious ladies (:>), thanks for livening the trip up. To Dr Redit and everyone at CMCT, thanks for the warmness shown to us. To my parents, thanks for not throwing up a fuss about going to a foreign "dangerous" land. (And no, this is not an Oscar acceptance speech.) And to God, thanks for the open door.