Yesterday, I went with my friend to visit the NGO she volunteers at. Naz, the NGO, is an orphanage for HIV positive children. The way Naz works is the first half of the day the children go to different schools throughout Delhi. Then, in the afternoon, volunteers help the children with the school homework and provide the children with personalized attention. Throughout my visit I went through several different emotions. Before arriving I was nervous-excited. I had never interacted with HIV+ children before. I had never been to an orphanage.
The orphanage was located in a very nice neighborhood in a nice house with several floors. Upon entering the house and walking up the stairs where girls and young boys lived, I noticed the bunk beds and cabinets, where children could keep their things. There were about 10 kids with kids coming in and out in a calm manner. One girl was playing with toy airplanes. Several girls where working on their schoolwork. A few very young children, maybe 4-6, were walking around and sitting with older children. I sat down with one sixth-grade girl, B*, and helped her with her homework. She had to read a story in English and define her vocabulary words. Then, she asked if I wanted to help her with her Hindi. I figured I would give it a shot, since I can speak pre-school level Hindi. She flipped open her literature-literature book and asked me if I could read Hindi. I told her I could—a wee bit. She handed me the book and said, “Okay you read.” I began to read at turtle-speed, it was like I was in Kindergarten all over again with my level-1 reading books. Plus, B was a strict teacher. She kept stopping to correct my Hindi. Several times she got frustrated that I wasn’t rolling my Rs properly and pronouncing the correct T sound (there are four T sounds in Hindi). I told her she was a very good Hindi teacher and that I was going to talk to my Hindi professor about hiring her as an assistant.
Somewhere, in the middle of reading an English story and reading Hindi, I suddenly got nervous that I was in this orphanage. A lot of the smaller children were coming and clinging to me. Many of the children had running noses and were coughing. I know the ways that the virus spreads, so I don’t know why I suddenly go so nervous. I also felt sad and happy for these children. It angered me that these children had been infected with HIV. I felt angry at the irresponsibility of parents if they knew they were infected and still had kids. Then again, maybe the parents were/are unaware of how HIV works. I also was happy that these children were being provided food and shelter at this NGO. Perhaps this is too awful and ironic to say, but honestly some of the children in this orphanage may be living in better conditions and eating better food than they might be having otherwise. Perhaps that’s to bold of a claim to make. I’m going to say it anyway, though.
Newsletter from the Naz organization!
*Can’t use her name.
The orphanage was located in a very nice neighborhood in a nice house with several floors. Upon entering the house and walking up the stairs where girls and young boys lived, I noticed the bunk beds and cabinets, where children could keep their things. There were about 10 kids with kids coming in and out in a calm manner. One girl was playing with toy airplanes. Several girls where working on their schoolwork. A few very young children, maybe 4-6, were walking around and sitting with older children. I sat down with one sixth-grade girl, B*, and helped her with her homework. She had to read a story in English and define her vocabulary words. Then, she asked if I wanted to help her with her Hindi. I figured I would give it a shot, since I can speak pre-school level Hindi. She flipped open her literature-literature book and asked me if I could read Hindi. I told her I could—a wee bit. She handed me the book and said, “Okay you read.” I began to read at turtle-speed, it was like I was in Kindergarten all over again with my level-1 reading books. Plus, B was a strict teacher. She kept stopping to correct my Hindi. Several times she got frustrated that I wasn’t rolling my Rs properly and pronouncing the correct T sound (there are four T sounds in Hindi). I told her she was a very good Hindi teacher and that I was going to talk to my Hindi professor about hiring her as an assistant.
Somewhere, in the middle of reading an English story and reading Hindi, I suddenly got nervous that I was in this orphanage. A lot of the smaller children were coming and clinging to me. Many of the children had running noses and were coughing. I know the ways that the virus spreads, so I don’t know why I suddenly go so nervous. I also felt sad and happy for these children. It angered me that these children had been infected with HIV. I felt angry at the irresponsibility of parents if they knew they were infected and still had kids. Then again, maybe the parents were/are unaware of how HIV works. I also was happy that these children were being provided food and shelter at this NGO. Perhaps this is too awful and ironic to say, but honestly some of the children in this orphanage may be living in better conditions and eating better food than they might be having otherwise. Perhaps that’s to bold of a claim to make. I’m going to say it anyway, though.
Newsletter from the Naz organization!
*Can’t use her name.
