Here we are, again, on a different track.
Immobile I have planned and fantasized to go volunteering.
One of my greatest dreams has always been to fly and see Mother Teresa’s little helpers.
So freedom kidnaps me one more time for another life’s ticket to ride.
Her orphanages are spread all-over Asia, especially in India and in Sri Lanka.
I had already been in India to visit them and to donate the money I had.
But these letters and words that stuck, tied, sown, one to the other will spring a feeling inside you
are totally consecrated for my trip in Sri Lanka.
Colombo,
your eyes start to grasp, they can’t handle all of that blazing mess, those colors, the smell of the
incense dancing out ubiquitously along with cows, cats, dogs, people and children begging for
money, the social fabric of all the religions buried and stitched in that city.
Gazillions of yellow tuk tuks are hurtling in front of me, mules carrying carts, humans still whip
and exploit the animals in a cruel way.
I have seen their dead bodies lying on the floor.
We decide to rush before Mother Teresa closes her doors.
After a couple of hours, we finally arrive, it hasn’t been easy to find this place without a map.
My heart’s beating fast and blood’s flying through my veins.
I have a look at the old, ugly black rusty gate and think: “This is where the poor abandon their
newborns”. We get in, a big and fat figure comes to receive us, but it’s not the greeting I had
expected.
No kindness, she seemed marble sculpted. Later I understood, after you’ll comprehend.
Wait…Don’t judge.
I commence to talk to the sister and she introduces me to all of the others.
The first part was the most shocking, no the second, the first, oh both!
In front of my eyes all little cradles, cribs full of orphans crying.
They were alive from a couple of weeks, already suffering, from the day they were born.
I think to myself, what kind of life could they have?
How much will they have to fight?
What color are their feelings going to be?
Black
Grey…
…and blue.
The sisters were all feeding them, making sure they were protected by the mosquito nets.
Why?
Because in many places in Asia and Africa, people and especially kids, still die if they are bitten by a mosquito.
They can contract malaria, dengue fever, since they are not vaccinated and die easily.
The money that I donated was used to buy the mosquito nets for the kids. One useful thing done in
my life…
Then it happens that the sister brings you upstairs, in the first room there were the youngsters
affected by the Down’s syndrome, we couldn’t get in, only they could.
In the second big room I see around 20 kids dancing and singing, so I fearlessly take my shoes off and get inside.
Two little girls come and take my hand, carrying me in the middle of the room and start laughing.
These two little slips start climbing on my legs like cubs, reaching for my chest, I found myself
having four little mademoiselles willing to kiss and embrace me.
For a second, they reminded me of when I was in Rome at the dog shelter and in the morning I
found abandoned puppies in front of the gate.
The despair was the same, their need of love resembled those pups.
It seemed as though for a second they wanted to stick their heart to mine.
I’ll never forget that time of my life, they didn’t even know who the hell I was, poor little creatures
begging for love.
A vortex of emotions was immediately tattooed inside my skin forever, when I’ll be old, I’ll still
remember those faces and smiles.
Little kids asking for a bit of attention, from me, a stranger to their fragile grey lives.
A traveller like me, a ghost, a specter that had flown from the other part of the world to see them, to
donate a morsel of help.
After having spent a couple of hours playing, the nun calls and says: “You don’t have to touch the
kids, you mustn’t hug them! We never do it, so you know, they suffer less, the moment they go…”
“Oh, yes I understand, I’m sorry sister”.
Today, their eyes have talked to me, they have begged for love, but I couldn’t give it to them, I’ll
never be able to.”
I was shocked, empty-handed, feeling incapable of doing anything, at a loss even to know where to
begin.
I cried when we left, powerless, helpless, stupid human.
(Orsetta Lopane)
