Daya Dan - One of the Missionaries of Charity Orphanages

There are no pictures for this leg of our journey.  Pictures are not allowed to be taken except by long-term volunteers on the last day of their volunteer term because of the disruption and distraction to the children. 

Fr. Laird arranged volunteer day passes for our group.  We were split into smaller groups to serve different facilities, partly because men are not allowed to volunteer in facilites for younger children or in facilities for females.  Also, the group was split up because a large group entering a single facility on a volunteer day pass would be overwhelming to the facility.

Ralph and Bob were assigned to Daya Dan, an orphanage for handicapped adolescent males.  The first challenge in our assignment was getting to the facility.  We were told that the orphanage is approximately 1/2 hour from the hotel, so we gave ourselves an hour to get there in case we encountered problems.  We naively thought that we would simply take a cab for door to door service.  We should have known better as we watched 4 or 5 hotel staff tried to figure out directions to our destination and explain the directions to our non-English speaking cab driver.

After about 1/2 hour, we arrived at a Missionaries of Charity building, only to learn from one of the Sisters that it was not Daya Dan.  Even she didn't know the directions to our destination so she summoned another woman to help.  We hailed another cab and the two tough ladies argued with the cab driver in Hindi.  We didn't understand the words, but it was clear from the tone of their voices and their body language that they were sternly telling him not to overcharge us or otherwise give us any trouble.

After a number of stops to find an English speaking pedestrian (or, at one point, a policeman) to get directions, we finally found Daya Dan one-half block down an alley off a remote street.  It had taken us an hour and a half to get there.

We entered the facility to learn that there were no Sisters at the facility at the time, only volunteers.  The volunteers were mostly college aged men and women and all of the volunteers were busy with the children, so we received no instructions or guidance on what we were to do.  The residents of Daya Dan are all severely handicapped.  All are mentally handicapped and many have physical handicaps as well.  We did our best to jump right in.  We learned pretty quickly that there are routines - unfortunately we had some trouble learning what the routines are and, again, none of the other volunteers seemed interested in giving us any guidance. 

It was now dinner time (referred to as "rice eating time" by the 3 or 4 staff women at the facility), so we were able to help the children with their dinner.  Because nearly all of the children needed help eating, having two extra sets of hands was welcomed and the long-term volunteers seemed to warm up to our presence.

We later learned from Fr. Laird that the reason for the lack of direction for the volunteers is that one of the primary goals in Mother Teresa's mission is sustainability.  To assure that their mission will continue, the Missionaries of Charity run a very spartan operation with as little overhead as possible.  They want to insure that basic needs - food, shelter, clothing and whatever love and care can be offered - are provided to as many people as possible.  The quality of care suffers as a result.  There are operating inefficiencies, but the basic needs are met.  We saw that principle in action today.

At the end of our volunteer shift, one of the volunteers helped us with directions back to the Mother House where we would meet up with Fr. Laird.  She suggested that the best way to get back would be by bus, but we told her that wasn't happening.  Cabs generally didn't travel down the street adjacent to the alley where Daya Dan is located, so we jumped in an auto-rickshaw (a rickshaw powered by a motocycle) to get to a street where we could catch a cab.  The auto-rickshaw ride is a little like one of the rides at the Minnesota State Fair, except that the auto-rickshaw has the added thrill that it felt like you could actually lose your life.  (As Fr. Laird later said, "Oh ye of little faith.) 

After some effort, we caught a cab.  Again, the cab drivers in this part of town don't speak English.  But our driver seemed to understand where we wanted to go - Mother Teresa's Mother House.  After a long drive, he pulled over in front of St. Theresa's Church (close, but no cigar).  Fortunately, a wedding procession just pulled up in front of the church and two of the attendees spoke enough English to give directions to the cab driver.  We met Fr. Laird at the Mother House and the three of us hailed a cab to take us home for the evening.