Waste

After a few days of nervous waiting and a trip to a laptop shop, I'm back online. Hello! I'm writing from the lobby of our hotel in Andheri East where my classmates and I will stay until departing for Delhi on the 9th.

After a few days of leisure and sightseeing, our class excursion yesterday was shocking and difficult. We received a briefing at the offices of Americares India, an organization that provides free medical care, responds in disasters such as floods and bombings, and builds the capacity of healthcare professionals in disaster response. After some brief Q&A in their offices, we accompanied one of their field teams to a slum in Andheri. Here's a photo of the mobile health van we accompanied to the Govandi slum:

The slum lies at the edge of Deonar, a mountainous heap where all of Mumbai's trash is dumped. To put that in perspective, Mumbai is India's most populous city and the world's 6th most populous. According to an article I read online, this slum is home to the lowest Human Development Index in India and has overtaken Dharavi (made famous in Slumdog Millionaire) in size. I couldn't get a shot of the dump itself that did any justice to its size, but here's a photo of a fleet of garbage trucks at the base of the hill. The child in the foreground is searching for material to recycle and sell:

As I stepped off the bus, I inhaled and my stomach turned as the stench of garbage, shit and animals stung my nostrils. I had to pause and physically collect myself, willing myself not to gag. Followed by curious stares, we entered the slum and met up with Americares staff, who were setting up an intake station in an empty concrete stall. Even though we're students and here to learn, I was nagged by a feeling that we were poverty tourists. After snapping some photos and spending a few hours, we'd be on our van back to a parallel universe where this place and these people are invisible.

At the intake station, patients lined up and one by one. Staff recorded their chief complaints and vitals like blood pressure and weight. What you can't see in the picture below is that there's absolutely no privacy. One of our professors observed that the line of women would lean in as each patient spoke with intake staff. Considering the fact that they were surrounded by their neighbors, we thought it was likely that the women might censor themselves when reporting their medical concerns.

After handing women their prescription, staff took a photo of each patient holding it up with their name just below their face. Later in the office they'll align medical records with photos for more complete patient files. With their prescription, women met with a doctor in the Americares van and received medicines. This was a bit more private than intake, and I hope they felt more free to discuss any issues they may have held back on earlier.

After a few hours it was time to go. During the bus ride to dinner, my stomach was tight. More than sad, I felt angry. With so many NGOs working here, where is the impact? How can so many people, like the trash they live alongside, be discarded? Society's detritus. I'm still processing the experience and what I saw, and I don't think pictures or this post come close to doing it justice. Some more photos below might begin to paint the picture.

Thanks for reading and until next time,

C