ECTA - Empowering Communities to Transcend Adversity

Lindsey 3 months ago

Join ECTA's cause page!

Lora 5 months ago

Report from the World Economic Forum posted in Journals on the website at www.ecta-international.org.

Ryan 5 months ago

The little sisters of the house woke up early to make us breakfast. After our chapatti, curry and eggs, Basil Lepcha, Drew and I hit the trail. We were on our way to “Pigsville”. Drew and Basil walked ahead discussing the difference between the American and Indian governments. Basil seemed keen to use the English he had learned from listening to the BBC World Service and to clarify the facts he had gleaned from the same source. Despite the fact that we were head towards Sungurey at a quick clip, I trailed a bit behind and thought about points previous on the trail.
Drew and I spent Sunday on the ground in front of the defunct Rateygaon Primary School. The day had been scheduled for a village picnic. Once the bright orange bag of medications was opened and the BP cuff emerged (the magical device able to divine all the humors of health), the picnickers came steadily to our table like so many ants to watermelon. It was the typical blend of village illness, chronic ear infections, high blood pressure, pneumonia, etcetera. When it seemed that all the sick had been attended to, we stepped down from our medical thrones (in this case two red plastic chairs and a creaky old wooden table) and sat in the grass with the villagers.
“So what have you decided about the ideas that came up last time.”
“Our candidate for the health training says she is ready and willing. She just needs to know when and where.”
“Good, I‘ll let you know when it is all finalized. And the bridge?”
“We have to rebuild it. There are some alternative building sites lower down the river.”
“How much wider are they?”
“A little less than double.”
“Looks like we’re going to have modify our design.”
The date was set for April, since the weather will be good and the farm work ‘easy’. Out of the sixty or so children in the village, about half walk several hours up a mountain to school everyday. The other half do not go to school at all. The Headmaster of the defunct Government Primary School we were seated in front of simply refuses to come to a “remote backward village” like Ratey. Despite the fact he receives his monthly salary, the doors are never opened. At an earlier meeting we had discussed the prospect of starting a small primary school in the valley to combat the problem.
“Ryan Sir, this year we are a little late for the school. Let’s build the bridge first and get our health worker trained. It is most important that the kids who are already enrolled in other schools don’t have to cross swollen rivers to get there.”
If there is medicine for the kids this year, they will also be healthy enough to study next… first things first. After consuming large plates of rice and chicken curry with our bare hands, we headed off towards Basil’s house in Barbhot. The sun was dropping lower in the sky. There was not enough time to visit Chuikim and arrange for Dik Bahadur’s surgery (it ended up that a political strike would‘ve prevented it anyways). I felt a twinge of regret knowing that another week or month of living with a hernia would be added onto the 57 years he’d already suffered.


Drew and Basil’s conversation had progressed past American governance and had caught my ear. Basil works in a project organized by the Darjeeling Diocese called “Community Based Disaster Preparedness”. He was pointing out all the scars on the mountains of our landslide prone region.
“Sungurey is cut off on two side by rivers which are uncross able during monsoon. This of course makes educating the children and evacuating the sick very difficult. But 30 years ago those rivers could be easily crossed year round. Do you know what happened?”
I was actually still wondering why Basil’s accent sounded more African than Nepali, but his discourse continued to draw me in.
“The jungle here was so thick. There was only a small number of houses in this valley 30 years ago. People migrated in, the population grew very rapidly and the forest was burnt down for agriculture. The land couldn’t hold back the water anymore. The rivers started to swell. Then the landslides became very frequent. The good farmland in the valleys was covered by debris. This pushed people to farm the hillsides even more… which of course only made the landslides worse.”
Suddenly the interconnectedness of all the region’s problems was very real to us as we looked down into the valley and saw the 200 - 400 foot wide flood paths,
“See look at that. The grandfathers of the village say that before, you could step across that river in one stride. Now look. My job is to prepare people for this disaster, which is only getting worse. The village was called ‘Pigsville’ because there used to be so many jungle pigs that tigers came to feed on them. Where are they now? Where is the jungle?”

Sungurey is situated on a ridge which seems razor thin in spots. Once again the orange bag and BP cuff emerged and we prepared for the normal rounds of migraines and dysentery. It quickly became evident that the village’s health is also balanced on a razor’s edge… two cases of Hepatitis, two cases of possible breast cancer, a case of potential mouth cancer, a soaring case of hypertension, kidney stones et cetra. Pramila was a middle aged Buddhist mother of two. Phulmit was a young shy Hindu mother. Joseph Lepcha was a Catholic father. Basil had to return to Barbhot for a wedding, so this local trio served as our guide to the ill. We took a grand tour of Sungurey and the surrounding hamlets which involved several river crossings, steep ascents and descents. The trio bounced along the trails chatting happily and then, at seemingly every house we passed, one would declare, “Hey, there a sick person here too.”
The list continued to grow. There was a older women in need of a hysterectomy, a grandmother with a hip fracture and Joseph’s mother had an enormous diabetic ulcer on her ankle which had been festering for 16 months. There was a 13 year old boy with what seemed to be M.S. and a toddler with the signs and symptoms of Scrofula, a version of Tuberculosis which infects the lymph nodes. The toddler’s grandfather’s leg had been crushed by a falling tree 16 years earlier. It was seriously deformed and he was suffering from yet another bacterial infection.

There are only 17 homes in Sungure, 25 -30 if you count the hamlets.

“Sir, if someone gets sick we have to carry them 3 hours to Oodlabari along the river path. Once the river swells we have to carry them 5 hours up to Joreline, and then it is 4 hours in a jeep to the hospital in Kalimpong.”

The next morning, Pramila invited us to breakfast. Her house was very basic, no table and chairs. Yet she served us a feast of black dal, cabbage, mustard greens, fried potato fritters, tomatoes and hand beaten rice. Drew and I felt guilty for consuming so many of her family’s resources but at the same time felt blessed with a priceless offering.
We walked the “easy route” along the river towards the plains of India. After stumbling over loose rock for 3 hours and making 15-20 river crossings, we felt that Sungure’s best option wasn’t so great after all. The debris from countless landslides has washed down the Gis River. The rice paddies of the hills collapse and tumble down to cover the paddies of the plains. At the mouth of the hills lies a wasteland a mile wide and several miles long which covers what used to be green fields of harvest. On any given day, that moonscape is covered with thin, dark figures hunched on the ground. They sit all day pounding river stone into gravel by hand. Eventually a truck drives by to load up the pitiful fruit of their labor. The land which gave rice, now only gives stone. They trade that stone for just enough calories to sit and pound out another day’s work.

By that evening, Drew and I were in Siliguri. The stocks of medicines were running low. We also needed to buy something at Siliguri’s new retail destination, The Cosmos Mall. At E-Zone one can buy I-Pods, Sony Laptop’s, electric drink mixers and cutting edge LCD flat screen TV’s. We purchased an Epson Printer/Scanner/Copier combo for our work in Kaffer. The day’s walk had left us tired and hungry. While sitting and eating Domino’s it seemed hard to believe that Pigsville was only 25 miles away “as the crow flies”. I couldn’t help but wonder how many days worth of gravel I’d have to pound to pay for our pizza pie.
Now both of our families are in Darjeeling, working out the details of our plans with Hayden Hall. It is going to take a lot to change the fact that people are dying and mountains are collapsing. It is going to take a lot of help from a lot of people, churches and NGO’s. Fortunately the Darjeeling Diocese has the Paramedic Training Program through Hayden Hall and the Community Based Disaster Preparedness team through Anugyalaya. But they are both resource stricken and lack the scope to tackle the whole problem. Perhaps if we all can work together?
All we can do is have faith that God will knit together a community to meet these needs, hope that selfless individuals will donate their time and resources to make it possible and love those around us whether we can “fix” their problems or not.

Lora 6 months ago

New Journal Entry on the website, opportunities to serve with Ecta in India. Check it out!

http://www.ecta-international.org/blo...

Ryan 6 months ago

“When I say run, run.”
“OK”
In a Swedish accent he yelled “Run!” and we ran. The next thing I knew I was falling past trees, past buildings, past ridges and towards the valley floor. Down in the valley there are villages, villages full of people. I know what the reality will be when I hit the ground.
______
Amanda finally got to meet Kemit. I’d been monitoring her for a few weeks. After Songmit’s successful delivery in Dabling, she was hoping to deliver with Amanda. Her 10 year old daughter mysteriously died last spring and as she told me the story. I could tell she was still grieving. Shortly after the death, she found out that she was pregnant. Her blood pressure was hovering at 150 over 100 and she was approaching her 37th week. Amanda tested her urine and found that it was flooded with protein. It was no surprise then when we saw pitting edema developing on her feet.
Knowing her story, it was difficult to break the news. “You are showing signs of a life threatening condition called pre-eclampsia. If you try to deliver at home, or even if you try to give birth with us you and your baby could die. You need to go and find someone to stay with in Kalimpong. I don’t know what your financial condition is but you have to deliver at a hospital. There could be serious complications. Meet with a “Delivery Doctor” there. If he doesn’t take you seriously because you are a villager, go to another doctor, and another until you find one who understands the seriousness of your condition. We will write a letter for you to show to the attending physician.”
Before we send someone to a hospital it is always necessary to weigh the potential costs… the least of which is financial ruin, the worst of which is picking up a hospital acquired infection such as Hep B, TB or even HIV. But with a high risk of eclampsia present, there is currently no other option.
______
As the wind rushes past my face and the valley floor get closer, I think to myself, “Why am I up here? Why am I strapped to a Swede? What am I doing?”
Above my head are layers of materials and bundles of cord, layers of safety and bundles of protection. They are the only thing keeping me from dropping and splattering across the valley floor. Below my feet are villages and villagers, most of which have no layers of safety and only cords that bind them. For the moment, I float above it all. In some ways, I’ve spent a long time floating above it all.
_____
Drew and I traveled to the village of Chuikim. I saw a poster showing that an NGO had built a Health Outpost there and was running and “Eco-tourism Home Stay” to improve the lives of villagers. Maybe we could partner in some way, I thought. The reality on the ground was different. The Home Stay project cost villagers more than it benefited them. The Doctor left and the Health Outpost had been turned into a momo shop. The village was jaded. We set out our wares and treated the sick. The NGO had hung up a sign declaring, “An Alcohol Free Village”. Despite the declaration, most of the patients were suffering from alcohol related illnesses or presently drunk. Dik Bahadur had been living with an inguinal hernia for 57 years. He was partially deaf and had a speech impediment. Being a latta, no one had thought to do anything about his hernia… including the previous Doctor. “Sir, when it gets hot… that’s when it gets really difficult. I get seriously constipated and can’t urinate. The pain is terrible. Now in the cold months, I guess its not so bad.”
We met a niece of Prakash (one of our best friends from Daragaon) and realized she would make a great health worker. The educated, young, married mother with a fat and healthy baby on her lap looked to be a perfect candidate. I hope we can train her soon. I hope a young mother can do more to transform the health of her village than a city doctor can.
______
Roger, my Swedish paraglider pilot, pulls the lines. We gracefully drift back and forth across the Himalayan landscape. I use the opportunity to get to know the geography of our region better. Squinting, I try to eagle eye villages that might have escaped my mental map. Below, the Relli River slashes through the mountain-scape. The large debris field makes me think of the raging rivers which isolate Rateygaon.
______
From Chuikim, we hiked on to visit my old friends in Rateygaon. Upon our arrival, they seemed a little grim and reserved. Drew and I helped them thresh out the rice which they a just harvested. After a while, Ram Kumar said, “Sir, the bridge we built together was washed away. It was the last rain of monsoon. A huge flood came and the 15ft tall abutments we built were completely buried in rubble. One of our brothers went out in the night to check on the bridge… and saw it being washed downstream still in tact. Just a week before, I was returning home late one night in a down pour. The river was so swollen it was hitting the bottom of the bridge. I thought ‘my God what would I have done without this bridge tonight’. Now its gone but the day before it was in perfect condition.”
The same flood had wiped out several levies and practically destroyed the bazaar of Bagrakote down in the plains, so I had no doubts about our workmanship. It was just a natural disaster. Then men had stopped threshing, so I said, “Well, sometimes that happens. At least the children had safe passage to school for two years. It’s not a huge loss. There’s no need to be frustrated. It only cost us 5,000 rupees and a week’s worth of time to build the first one. The real question is what are we going to do about it?”
_____
Our paraglider began to circle around the landing zone. Amanda had arranged the flight for me as a Christmas present and it was almost finished. Children emerged from their houses. They were shouting and whistling and running in our direction. And after soaring over the mountains like an eagle we landed on our butts in the dirt. The children whose cheeks were chapped and cracked by the dry winter sun stared at us with open eyes and mouths agape. Part of me felt guilty. A wad of rupees had been spent for my 20 minute joy ride. I wondered if all these kids were going to school and if the money could have been better spent on educating them.
Reaching down, I unclipped my harness and stepped away from the tangle of safety cords.
As Roger packed up the parachute, I noticed that he was speaking to the children in Nepali. It seems the full Swedish accent compliments the language better than most of the American ones I‘ve heard. We sat down in a bamboo hut to have tea and momos. The conversation progressed and I found out more about the Swede with the white beard. He had lived in Calcutta for a long time working with street children and helping out Mother Theresa’s mission in various ways. Being a Bengali speaker it was an easy transition to spend a season living in Bangladesh. Now he was living off the money he made as a paragliding pilot. In his spare time he had developed a ‘charitable trust’ to develop the little village he was living in outside Kalimpong. He sent its poor children to school at his expense. So in a way, the money spent on my Christmas joyride did educate some village kids after all.
_____
Instead of catching the jeep back to Kalimpong, I threw on my pack an walked back to Kaffer. Enroute I had plenty of time to think as I passed through multiple villages. Throughout our childhood and adolescence we are inculcated with one seemingly infallible truth. Study hard, get into a good school, pick a good career (meaning one that pays well), live a life of upward mobility and there will be room for you on the top. No one communicates the fact that the pinnacle atop a mountain of achievement is a very lonely place… only room for one after all. At the outset of adulthood, I certainly sat atop a mountain of blessing. I was educated, healthy, loved and had the freedom to choose any path I wished. The last decade has been a joyride from off that mountain, slowed by so many layers of protection and cords of safety. There were times in which I would liked to have cut those cords and taken the plunge. Maybe I should have. But that would be foolish and irresponsible right? After all, few school teachers encourage us to take a path of downward mobility. As a matter of fact, few Sunday school teachers encourage us to take a path of downward mobility… even though that is the path which Christ chose. It must have been quite the flight from heaven down to Bethlehem.
Our health insurance has expired, my personal resources are tapped and starting this month I’ll be making a minimum wage salary from ECTA. As an “Aamerikaan” in India, I’ll always be seen as a rich man. But by our own society‘s standards, we’ve hit rock bottom… we’ve landed on the valley floor. But here I can give away a higher percentage of my income than a wealthy individual seeking tax write offs. Here I can live a life that is not tangle up in the cords that are supposed to protect me. Here when I fall out of the sky and land on my butt in the dirt, the kids are waiting there with smiles on their faces. Here all the benefits and privilege I’ve had on this joyride of mine are translated into a few more kids that get to go to school and a few more mother’s who don’t have to mourn the early death of their children.
This weekend Drew and I will hike back to Rateygaon. We will be talking to the candidate they’ve selected for the Health Training, planning to rebuild the bridge and entertaining the idea of starting a small primary school there. From there we will head to Chuikim, where we will offer to arrange an operation for Dik Bahadur. After that we will head on to Sungurey, “Pigsville” to do a medical camp… and who knows what we will find there.
_____
This morning, Kangchenjunga is silhouetted against an azure winter sky. A wind is obviously ripping across the summit, for a cloud of snow is streaming away from it. A frigid granite pinnacle is exposed atop the massif. I think to myself, “There’s probably always “room at the top” because no one could possibly survive there for very long.”

In Him,
Ryan, Amanda, Asher and Shepherd

Brenton 7 months ago

ECTA Journal
--------------------

Hello all,
Since we are unable to send you Christmas presents from India (they would be stolen by the Indian post office) we thought we would send you the gift of our ongoing story...


Dave and I were having a discussion via email. The subject was the difference between Indian and American culture. Holiday and birthday celebrations were the topic. I mentioned that in America we receive gifts on our birthdays but in Indian people give gifts to others on theirs. The difference between the two traditions communicates something deep about divide between our cultures. One says, “I’m so thankful that I got to live another year that I wish to bless those around me.” The other says, “I got to live another year… now give me a pony!”
One morning I received an email from Dave saying that he was going to try the Indian method this year and see what people’s reactions were. That was the morning of Asher’s birthday . Being partly American, we gave him a toy train as a gift. Being partly Indian, we gave him a bag of Cadbury éclairs. Asher went into the main room of the student’s hostel and gave all the other kids candy as his birthday koseli.
Later that day, we were closing the clinic for lunch. Two ladies came up and beckoned Amanda. They spoke in hushed tones. A woman in Dabling was in labor and it wasn‘t progressing. Binita, Asher, Shepherd, Amanda and I piled into Rabin’s white van. The van sputtered and stalled. I pushed it through the rough spots. Outside the expectant mother’s house Asher let the neighbor kids play with his birthday train. I played with Shepherd on the porch. Inside Amanda and Binita attended to the mother and she gave birth to a healthy baby boy after several hours. Asher shared his birthday with all his new friends and received a “little brother” with the same birthday as his.
_____
A mother from the Landslide Camp carried her 10 year old for a half an hour to reach the clinic. Mingma had been playing with a sickle and cut his wrist. As soon as I unwrapped the wound a bright red stream of blood surged out of his wrist and onto the bed. Drew came down from the market to assist. We applied pressure, he bled. We elevated the wound above the heart, he bled. We applied a tourniquet, he bled. We told the mother that he had severed an artery and needed to go to the hospital. She said that they didn’t have any money. She said that the man of the house wasn’t home and couldn’t send him to the hospital without consulting him. She said that the reason that she didn’t have any money was that a landslide had wiped out her house, her fields, her cattle… her life. During the landslide, Mingma was left screaming in a room which remained high on the mountain. The rest of the house rode the muddy wave down. The mother crawled out of the mud with a toddler clinging to her chest. Since, her family has lived in a shack in the jungle. The thirty families of the Lanslide Camp are living in impromptu buildings very similar to the stables used for their livestock. We carried the boy on a stretcher to that stable, told his mother the warning signs to watch for and prayed that the compression bandage we’d applied would stop the bleeding. I stopped in next door to check on Rosemary who was a few days past her due date. We made plans for the eminent birth.
_____
In Sidim a woman was laboring in the middle of the night . The girls caring for her had never seen a birth before. They got scared that the baby wasn’t coming so they tied the pregnant woman in a chair, tied a head strap around it and carried her one by one through the dark jungle. They reached the hospital in Git Dabling. The doctor was in Calcutta. They reached the dispensary at the convent. Sister Johanna was in South India. They called the jeep to drive them to the Kalimpong Hospital. It was broken. At 1:30 in the morning a frantic Sister Matilda called us and asked for help. Over the phone we instructed the family not to cut the cord, wrap the baby and placenta in warm blankets and to nurse the baby immediately after it was born if the midwife hadn’t yet arrived. Amanda slung Shepherd onto her back, grabbed her things and took her turn walking through the jungle that night. As she reached the clinic to grab her midwife kit, Sister called again and said, “The baby is being born and the cord is wrapped tight around it’s neck. We can’t get it off.” Amanda jumped into the same sputtering, stalling white van and headed out. En route the driver’s mobile rang. He picked it up to see who was calling. Another passenger yelled, “Hey we’re going to go off a cliff.” The driver overcompensated. The van hit the uphill embankment and flipped onto its side. Amanda landed on top of 2 other passengers. Shepherd landed in Amanda’s lap and only cried for a moment. They climbed out of the wreckage unhurt and flipped the tiny van up onto it’s wheels. Seeing that the vehicle was now soaked in petrol… they decided to walk the rest of the way.
When Amanda finally reached Git Dabling the baby was set aside on the floor. He was ice cold, purple and barely breathing. The mother had not nursed him. In frustration the midwife asked, “If I don’t put a hat on my baby everyone criticizes me and tells me the cold will make him sick. What is this? Why would you do this? Why didn’t you listen to my advice on the phone?”
“We found it awkward to put the baby with the mother since the placenta was still attached.”
“?!?”
Amanda set to work hoping to revive the hypothermic neonate.


_____
Kumari came to the Ocean of Mercy Health Center looking to have an abortion. Her first child was older and she wasn’t planning on having another. She didn’t want the inconvenience of tending to another baby. When her mother-in-law found out she was pregnant, she almost beat her. She told Kumari to get it “cleaned out” as the Nepali idiom goes. Amanda gave her a prenatal anyways. She shared her thoughts on abortion, told her about the health risks (especially in the Indian hospital setting) and showed her pictures of fetuses as developed as her own. Kumari left with a smile on her face saying that she wanted the unwanted child after all. Amanda wasn’t so confident. But after a few months, she is still coming regularly for check ups, got an ultrasound in Kalimpong and is taking her vitamins diligently.
_____
Rosemary’s husband Rabin, is the driver of the white van. At 3:45 a.m, he called to let us know that she was really in labor this time. Thanks to the bumpy road, it took an hour to reach the landslide camp. Inside the kitchen of the makeshift hut, his wife was well into active labor. Our health worker Binita and Amanda prepped for the delivery. Rabin burned incense in front of the family altar. The women of the house made tea. The birth was progressing normally. Rosemary was doing well considering she had already been in latent labor for 4-5 days. But as the head was being delivered Amanda noticed the ‘turtle sign’. The baby’s shoulder was jammed against the pubic bone and stuck leaving it stuck in the birth canal. In this scenario, there is usually only a 3 minute window to save the baby. With a transport time of at least 3 hours, the mother’s life was also in grave danger.
Within the first minute the baby’s head had turned purple. After 5 minutes Amanda had tried every technique in the book without success. Around the 8 minute mark she again inserted her hand beside the baby’s head, pushed on the shoulder which, for some reason, this time dislodged the baby. The baby was born limp and lifeless. Amanda fumbled with the AMBU bag but couldn’t get it assembled quick enough. So she threw it aside and covered the baby’s mouth with her bare lips. For the next 8 minutes she compressed the little girl’s chest with her hands and filled it with breath from her lungs. Then the baby made a slight wheezing sound. The midwife stopped and prayed. Suddenly, the baby’s eyes opened and she screamed. Her cold purple body turned a warm pink. She was placed against her mother’s breast and began to suckle.
_____
Drew, Debby, Ashlyn, Amanda, Asher, Shepherd and I have moved to a new house. We found a four room house available for rent. It was built as a tourist home stay but the business didn’t pan out. It is situated in the midst of the dwellings of a large Tamang Buddhist family. They are an easy going, jovial and creative family who has warmly received us. Soon after our arrival the families eagerly asked us if we would celebrate Christmas with them. They wanted to see what it was all about. We are making preparations. Asher and I spent this morning building a miniature stable to house the Nativity set we found in Kalimpong.
Christmas, of course, is birthday celebration. Some baby, somewhere, long ago was born in a filthy stable. But why celebrate that? Even today, babies are sometimes born in stables. We saw a baby born in a stable this week. In the middle of every stable is a manger, a food trough. A manger usually holds fodder or slop made from organic waste. They are damp, dirty, gnawed on and covered with animal spittle. At the center of every human is a heart. Christmas is the day in which we recognize that the Christ Child can be born and laid in the empty manger of our souls. Often times our hearts are also dirty, battered and bruised . Our only job is to accept this blessing from heaven and allow our mangers to be transformed into a throne, our stable into a temple.
Some, like Mary, accept Him and allow Him to be born through them. Some fear the inconvenience He will cause and seek to abort him. Some carry Him inside their hearts for 9 months or so. But when He is finally born they are uncomfortable with the afterbirth. They sit him aside in the cold. Some change their mind and the unwanted child is finally wanted. Some want him more than anything but are only delivered with great pain and suffering. And oh, the child of peace, faith, hope and love can seem so frail. All the signs might say that he is dead. In fact, it is often a life and death battle to keep him alive. But his silent cry is this, “Give me the gift of your breath. Place your hands on my chest and make the blood pulse in my veins. Show me that you love me. Show me you want me.”
In that dark and dirty stable the Christ Child received the gifts of 3 wise men on his birthday. In Git Dabling he received warmth. In a stable in India he received the breath of life. But He doesn‘t only receive. He gives and oh, how he gives. This Christmas, this birthday celebration, receive. Receive the gifts of peace, forgiveness and life. But don’t let it end there. This Christmas give because you are thankful to have lived another year.


Merry Christmas 2009,
Ryan, Amanda, Asher and Shepherd


--
ECTA International
___________
www.ecta-international.org
www.causes.com/ecta (facebook site)

"Charity alone is without fear. Having given all that it has, it has nothing left to lose." - Thomas Merton
"Small things done in great love change the world" - Mother Theresa
"Be the change you wish to see in the world" - Mahatma Ghandi
"There is no use in walking anywhere to preach, unless your walking is your preaching" - St. Francis

Ashley 7 months ago

This is a non profit founded by some dear friends of mine in high school that works to provide health care to people in the rural villages in the Himalayas. Many may think, "Well, some affordable health care would be nice for ME, as well," but these are basic services and medicines for children who are not within a few miles of a hospital and lack the resources we have here in the US. It's not too late to help those in need this holiday season! Even a small donation would improve the quality of life of a child in need.