Once the Storm is Over
Tuesday, October 07, 2014
People have told me time and time again that age 27 to 28 are years for lots of change and learning. I'm almost 28 and I have to say so far everyone has been pretty spot on. One thing about crisis is that it makes you learn a lot about yourself. I, for one, turned to Coca Cola drinking, nail biting, and cursing. I've been thinking and reflecting a lot. It's taken me a while to find the calm after the storm, the light at the end of the tunnel, and my way back to normal, but I'm starting to feel like I'm almost there.
If someone had tipped me off a few months ago that a very sick newborn baby and a flood were on their way, I'm not sure I would have believed them or handled it very well. Things were already so busy, the days so full, minute to minute. What this experience has taught me is that you never know what's around the corner but whatever it is, you can handle it. You can get through anything, anything, anything. Crisis happens. It's unexplainable. It doesn't usually make sense why or how. But these bad awful horrible times make you savor the good ones. They make you hug your children a little more and remember to tell people you love them. I've been doing a ton of that these days.
When the floods hit, I was in Kathmandu sleeping on a cot about a foot outside of the door at the NICU. Early in the morning my phone rang. It was Kelly. She was in the office preparing for a day of professional development with our teachers when suddenly everyone began to realize how bad the floods were.
When I got the call I was already on edge, in and out of sleep, and panic set in. The first thing I thought was: there's just no way. This is a nightmare. Then I instantly thought of all of our students who live beside the riverbeds and told Kelly to do everything she could to bring them to our school and get them to safety. Kelly stayed calm, remained stoic, and assured me that the teachers were all going out to search for our students while I barked off orders and started to lose it. For the rest of the day the phone lines were down, our team was scattered all over the map, out of touch, and all I could do was pace the hallways of the hospital. It was by far one of the worst days of my life.
I am so proud of what ensued at Kopila Valley the days during and after the storm. The team really sprung into action. It was nothing short of miraculous. What they were able to accomplish in those next few days immediately after the flooding brings tears to my eyes. They stayed so calm, mobilized, and worked around the clock to shelter and feed nearly 200 refugees.
I have a lot of stories and half-written posts to share from those weeks after the floods. All the babies and pregnant women (two sets of twins!), visiting the flood relief camps, sitting in government meetings (losing my cool), collecting everything we possibly could, and collaborating with other organizations after the floods. But there's one story that has stuck with me that I don't think I'll ever forget.
For the past three years consecutively there has been this one little girl named Laxmi who has come to apply to Kopila Valley during admissions time. Our team gets anywhere from 800-1200 applicants, and every single year for the past 3 years Laxmi's name has made it to my final short list, on my wrinkled piece of paper with handwritten notes scratched out all over it. I was drawn this kid. Laxmi was smart, bright-eyed, outspoken, and had Kopila Valley written all over her.
Every single time her application or her little being was in my presence I knew I wanted her in our school and I had an overwhelming urge to stamp something on a piece of paper. We have a really good admissions process that we've curated and refined over the years and it's gotten to a place where we make decisions entirely as a team. The first year Laxmi applied we cut her at the last minute because she was still too young. I justified it in my head because we could take her the next year. But the next year she applied and made it to the list once again, and once again there was an overwhelming amount of need. At the very last minute she got cut.
I have a very forgetful brain, but somehow I never forget a face. There are times when a kid walks into my room for their admissions interview that I think, “Oh no, this one again!" because they're that kid I've been teetering back and forth on and I know it's time to make a decision.
This year Laxmi applied for the third time, but we had so many orphan cases that even though her parents were disabled and really poor, she didn't make the list. Still, every time I saw this little girl or her mom by the riverbed, I would feel this little pang in my gut because she was one of the ones I wanted.
A few days after the floods, when I returned to Surkhet, I found out that Laxmi was swept up by the floods. I couldn't even look at her mom. I just sat there staring at the ground absolutely shocked. This was the first time it all really hit me, and it hit me hard. I found my mind constantly playing scenarios over and over in my head like a movie where I could go back to the past and change things. "Would Laxmi's fate have been different if she had gotten picked? Where would she have been that night? What if I could travel back in time and put her name on the list? Why didn't I just pick her?!?! I knew I wanted her, I should have just listened to myself and put her in our school. I hate flash floods. I hate natural disasters. Why do kids ever have to die?"
We visited so many people in so many camps, but I couldn't get my mind off of Laxmi. I guess because she wasn't just a number. She wasn't just one of a thousand faces. She was a real little girl who didn't deserve to die in a flood.
Almost two months have passed. The Nepali festivals are here. It's Dashain, the month-long celebration which is basically the Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's equivalent in Nepal. It's the holiday season and sadly the flood victims are all still in camps, living under tarps. Sadly, not much has changed. Along with other organizations, we're doing everything we can to keep the victims comfortable & healthy, and to make sure their basic needs are met. But now it's just a waiting game until the government decides where they will all be relocated and we can focus on phase two of rebuilding.
In the meantime, Ravi is at home sweet home. We set up a little nursery in a room attached to mine. He spends his days being cuddled, sleeping, playing with his toys, and drinking his milk. He's 4 months old and 9 pounds and all smiles!!! If you follow us on Facebook or Instagram you know we're pretty in love, and a little obsessed. I've fallen hard. So hard, it can be difficult to get work done. Even when he's sleeping I find myself staring at his little face, his little feet, his little body, and watching his chest move up and down. Even when he wakes me up every hour of the night, I think, "He's awake, he's alive, he's a miracle!!!" Where does all this love come from? How can anyone or anything be so cute and so perfect and so innocent? Luckily I have a team of fellows and aunties and uncles who are all in the same boat so I have lots of help with this little guy, lots of people to share in my love for him who let me brag about how he's going to be the next Ghandi, or a big CEO, or a baby genius. (By the way, I put fish oil in his formula every day.)
During the Nepali festivals, schools are shut down. It's been really nice because I've gotten a lot of time to soak up with all the kids and be at home a lot. We made our usual Dashain vacation bucket list that we are slowly chipping away at. There's a brand-new hotel in town that built Surkhet's first swimming pool and on special occasions we go to swim. Last year only 4 of my kids could swim and now about 24 of them can! We also have kiddie pools on the roof to cool off. They spend hours splashing around. We're cooking lots of yummy meals together and watching lots of movies, and reading lots of books, and flying lots of kites, and going on adventures.
The fellows organized a summer Dashain camp so we can keep our eyes on the kids during the holidays and keep them busy. We have volunteers helping us run it. We have so so much to bring you up to speed on and I promise to start writing more. I needed some time to adjust to the new baby and focus on recovery from the flood, but I feel like I'm ready to come back to the surface. Last but not least, I wanted to share a quote that I just read and to thank each of you for carrying me through the past few months of the storm and always being there for me and my children. I am so grateful.
"AND ONCE THE STORM IS OVER, YOU WON'T REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE IT THROUGH, HOW YOU MANAGED TO SURVIVE. YOU WON'T EVEN BE SURE, WHETHER THE STORM IS REALLY OVER. BUT ONE THING IS CERTAIN. WHEN YOU COME OUT OF THE STORM, YOU WON'T BE THE SAME PERSON WHO WALKED IN. THAT'S WHAT THIS STORM'S ALL ABOUT." - HARUKI MURAKAMI