Vijay is more like a tree than a mountain. About six foot tall and of steady build, he is not a remarkably large man, but he carries a settled strength and has given me a sense of protection since my arrival in India. He is handsome as can be with rich dark Tamil skin and signature dentures that illuminate his face with his frequent smiles. We celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday together. We gave him a cake and he gave us gifts, a glass globe and a ganesha in a case, some of the very few things that survived the destruction of his home in the tsunami. The flattened rubble pile that was his family home was our first stop when we arrived. The sea also destroyed his family�s boat and shattered their livelihood, like that of so many others in these fishing villages of Tamil Nadu. We launched an appeal for funding for a new boat for Vijay, and celebrated time with his fianc� (would-be) in Muttukadu. He has become like a brother.
Vijay was a principle on our outreach team, helping to conduct the searches of the villages for those in need of our help. Along with other team members Baskar and Dessapan, he stood by as we gave treatments, and then disappeared, only to return again with another in need. He was, like the others, both brick and cement for the project.
�Vijay�s true strength� Dhamodharan told me �is upon the sea.� �He knows it like no other.�
�You must take me out.� I told Vijay. With that a plan was set. Upon our return to Chennai we began to discuss our journey to sea. Vijay spoke with a friend and told us (through Dhamu�s translation) that Tuesday morning was our best time to take out a borrowed boat.
We arrived at the village on Tuesday morning with a sense of excitement. What we found there filled us with immeasurable delight. On the beach that had been empty only days before were numerous boats and catamarans, lining the entire beachfront and interspersed with bundles of nets. Fishermen were going through the nets removing fish. An elderly woman approached with a bucket, filled it with fish, and walked back toward the village. There was a sense of elation on the beach as Dhamodharan told us that this was the first day the village fishermen were returning en masse to their work. What had been a gloomy and grey environment seemed filled with life and activity. The boat was checked over by Vijay and his two-man crew. With rope slings they carried the heavy twenty-foot fiberglass boat down to the water, then mounted the diesel motor with its long prop to the back. They watched the wave patterns, catching the higher waves to lift the boat into the sea. Mitta, Dhamu and I, along with our captain Vijay and his crew, headed out to sea upon the Bay of Bengal.
We found our places of security in the open boat and settled in for the ride. Mitta and I turned to see Vijay, standing tall upon the back of the boat with his fisherman�s lungi wrapped around his shoulders. This was a different Vijay than I had known. Now he appeared like a mighty king, rudder in his hand like a scepter. With his eyes cast out upon the rolling swells, he guided us on our adventure. His crewmen cast lures into the water and wrapped the nylon line around their legs to troll the sea for catch. We motored out more than ten kilometers, watching the shoreline shrink behind us. From a distance it could have been Santa Monica or any other city by the sea, but the rich blue water was like no other I had seen before. We made a wide loop, each taking turns to stand �fisherman-style� in the boat with a rope rein to keep us secure. I fancied myself as tall and proud as Vijay as I too cast my gaze across the sea.
Our journey complete, Vijay turned the boat toward shore. We rode upon the waves to the beach, like a grand surfer. I turned to see that signature smile on his face, happy to had given us an adventure, but happier still to have been to sea, to his place of livelihood.
On the beach several of the villagers greeted us. By now Mitta and I had become familiar guests and many of the villagers had become our friends. A small girl, whom two days earlier we had given treatment to overcome her �tsunami fear,� approached Mitta and took her by the hand, guiding her back to the village. She beamed with pride as she escorted her new friend; there was a saunter to their walk as though they had taken similar walks many times before. She escorted us to her house, a small two-room block home on the beach that had been swamped; yet spared during the tsunami, only the emptiness, the waterline, and the fragmented roof bearing the tale. Her mother, whom we had also given treatment to and counseled regarding the challenge of enduring this season of despair, now appeared as a figure of grace. She was dressed well and her hair was fixed quite nicely with curls. She invited us to sit, and then produced the customary �cold drinks� of orange soda. On the other side of the room another woman was cleaning fish and cooking a stew. The house was filled with jubilation as the young mother opened her purse to show us her wages from her first day returning to work at the fish market.
We celebrated this renewal of village spirit. Our treatments, we knew, could help calm the broken hearts, but it was the return to the normal activities of life that created true healing.
Postscript:
Today is Monday, February 21. I have almost finished my packing, for tonight I will leave this dear India to return home. In the days of follow-ups to our treatments I have visited with many of those I have written about in my reports. To my astonishment, despite the heaviness with which we found them, there have been remarkable outcomes. A single intervention of love from these foreigners, with the aid of the local team, has been a catalyst for recovery. Even the young three-year-old Monica of Muttukadu, who had experienced paralysis of one side of her face, showed me how she can now close the eye on that side. The regular medical therapies and hands-on treatments of her parents are inducing a wondrous recovery. I came with hope; I leave with confidence.
I am so deeply grateful for the support we have received during this effort, both financial and moral. I have tried to reply to emails as I could, but if you have not heard directly from me, please be patient (I have a three-hour stopover in Singapore with email). Several pictures have been posted so far and I well post more upon my return. On Thursday I will give a talk at the University of Judaism in Los Angeles about this trip and the general mission of First Medicines. If you are in the LA area, please come be a part of this special event. Email me for details and I will send out the address info later.
Please continue your prayers and financial support for the victims of this tsunami disaster. As you can see, the recovery is just beginning. Our support must endure.
From India, Vanakam Nanthree (God Bless You and Thank You in Tamil),
Timothy
Home India Outreach