Pulling out onto Arapahoe just after midnight, I felt awash with conflicting emotions. It was something I’d done countless times but it felt so different. The pavement was smooth and black. There were street lights. The avenue was broad. Driving women in labor to the hospital was, of course, my job for quite some time. Next to me, Amanda held her belly through the increasing contractions as we quietly rolled towards Boulder. In between the pains, we joked and made light conversation. In the back of my mind a reel of images began to play; a road washed out by monsoon rains, casually edging an ambulance along the crumbling rim of a landslide, a young husband rocking back and forth holding the mother-to-be. In the background of my mind a subtle track hummed in time; the sound of creaking leaf springs, the groans of the mother as we hit a deep pothole, the squeak of seat and rumble of road. In the foreground, there was barely a sound.
I thought of Puran, Simon and Saran who were, more than likely, engaged in that same activity half a world away. “More than likely” is appropriate to use here given the political climate in the Darjeeling District. During the month of August, the roads and shops were open a grand total of 6 days. The rest of the month had been disrupted by “general strikes” which are used as a tool to demand separate statehood for “Gorkhaland”. During these protests, only hospitals and pharmacies are allowed to open their doors. Only ambulances are allowed to ply the roads. Our drivers were running non-stop, ECTA’s ambulances being the only link for rural villages in times of emergency. Saran alone transported 36 laboring mothers in August, each trip requiring 6-8 exhausting hours. His wife Binnu is expecting their first child herself later this year, so he can appreciate the need of those he serves.
As a cordial nurse, checked Amanda and I into the calm, quiet, clean and comfortable L&D at Boulder Community Hospital my mental screen played on; memories of having to bang on shuttered gates and locked doors in the middle of night, memories of terse nurses annoyed that we hadn’t “waited till morning” despite the emergency, memories of scared fathers thumbing through their rupees wondering how they would eat. Our room was spacious and homey complete with TV, DVD and free WiFi… not to mention a private bathroom. Despite being overjoyed that we were about to meet our new child, an ache crept into my heart remembering… remembering a single overflowing latrine for 60 women, remembering no running water, remembering women laboring on soiled mattresses strewn on the floor of the Government Hospital. Not only did Amanda have a large, clean adjustable bed… but I, with no medical needs at all, had a sofa sleeper to retire on incase I fancied a little shut eye.
The equipment at the ready just in our room, just for Amanda, exceeded what would be available in an entire L&D at the tertiary level in our District of W.Bengal which sees 40-50 deliveries a day. In comparison to the 3-4 nurses on duty for all those women, an entourage was assembling for Amanda’s VBAC. Hospital policy required a surgeon and anesthesiologist to be on call. Three different nurses assisted us throughout the night and a nurse midwife was present for the delivery. After a short and beautiful labor, Amanda gave birth to our first daughter, Juniper Sahara, at 5:16am. Finishing the requisite phone calls and postpartum care, Amanda rested in her clean warm bed. I, with a grateful heart, drifted off to sleep on the comfy sofa with my baby girl tucked in beside me. Later, I awoke to the visit of the Pediatrician.
I’ve experienced this intense bittersweet emotion with the birth of each of our children. After Asher’s birth via emergency C-section, I tasted the joy of my first born as well as the realization that, if I’d been born a Nepali villager, I would be a widower. With the miscarriage of Leaf Anjali, we experienced the bitter reality of substandard care and lack of access to emergency services as well as the sweetness of finding redemption even in that traumatic event. With Shepherd Ketan, Cedar Milan and now Juniper Sahara we experienced the joy of competent compassionate care in three very different contexts; a homebirth in America, a homebirth in a remote Indian village and a midwife assisted hospital delivery in Colorado. My joy and gratefulness in these 3 births has not been diminished by but instead tempered with the reality that my friends, neighbors and loved ones in India still do not have access to the standard of care they deserve. Our projects have brought them a few steps closer, but there is still a long journey to actualize holistic maternal/child care in South Asia.
A few days after Juniper’s birth, an unprecedented storm settled in on Boulder releasing a year’s worth of rain in under a week. Roads were washed out in this ‘monsoon’, landslides cut off mountain routes, people in remote towns had to walk hours in the rain to reach the nearest vehicle accessible road. Sounding very familiar, it dawned on me how similar Boulder is to Siliguri. It is the last town in the plains before the mountains. It is the place to come for all the essential services the folks “in the hills” need. For two weeks, our home in America tasted the reality that our home in India faces for 5 months of every year. The effects will last for months, maybe even years but there are some stark differences. This was a hundred… and some even say thousand… year flood. There is nothing on record which even comes close. The Himalayas will experience six times the rain this every year, not to mention every summer. Where we have emergency airlifts and FEMA, Himalayan villagers have their own two legs and arms. I do not mean to diminish the suffering which Coloradans have experienced but simply hope to elucidate the unimaginable reality of so many living half a world away.
One huge leap Amanda and I were able to make in linking Himalayan mothers with the care they need (especially in the heart of monsoon with all its perils) was getting “The Donkey” recognized as a Matriyaan Ambulance. Through this government sponsored program we are able to provide free transport to mothers to and from the hospital. One huge obstacle we’ve faced has been political grid lock in the region. ECTA/HIMserve has not received any reimbursements for our services since March. The cost for over 150 maternal transports has been flowing out of pocket and eroding our budget for the school and Community Health Volunteer training program. Some other local Matriyaan providers have buckled under the financial burden. Our vehicles have been able to provide unbroken service thanks to the support of our donors. Matriyaan has been tremendously successful in ensuring free access to essential medical services for families of every income bracket… but a government shutdown forced by partisan politics is threatening to reset the only tangible progress which has been made in the last decade. Just as the acute emergency of the Colorado floods reflects the chronic state of emergencies caused by the monsoon in India, I awoke this morning to find that our national politics are not so very different than the perpetual division and corruption which paralyzes India. Now Americans face a government shutdown as well. In both contexts, public health seems to be the collateral damage.
While it is tempting to focus on the bitter we can savor the sweet just as easily. We can do more than savor it; we can share it. We can do more than share it; we can create it. Here at ECTA we hope, pray and work to ensure that every mother, father and child can be “Born into love, Live in hope and Die with dignity”. Please take time to consider your roll in supporting this endeavor. ECTA needs to raise $1,500 dollars of recurrent monthly donations by the end of the year to make up for the Matriyaan deficit, maintain the organization and lay the groundwork for future initiatives. Every little bit helps. Automatic recurrent donations of $15, $25 or $50 dollars add up to meet our monthly goal. Donate at www.ecta-international.org/donate.html knowing that no one can truly be healthy, unless there is health for all.
Sincerely,
Ryan Phillips – Executive Director of ECTA International
I thought of Puran, Simon and Saran who were, more than likely, engaged in that same activity half a world away. “More than likely” is appropriate to use here given the political climate in the Darjeeling District. During the month of August, the roads and shops were open a grand total of 6 days. The rest of the month had been disrupted by “general strikes” which are used as a tool to demand separate statehood for “Gorkhaland”. During these protests, only hospitals and pharmacies are allowed to open their doors. Only ambulances are allowed to ply the roads. Our drivers were running non-stop, ECTA’s ambulances being the only link for rural villages in times of emergency. Saran alone transported 36 laboring mothers in August, each trip requiring 6-8 exhausting hours. His wife Binnu is expecting their first child herself later this year, so he can appreciate the need of those he serves.
As a cordial nurse, checked Amanda and I into the calm, quiet, clean and comfortable L&D at Boulder Community Hospital my mental screen played on; memories of having to bang on shuttered gates and locked doors in the middle of night, memories of terse nurses annoyed that we hadn’t “waited till morning” despite the emergency, memories of scared fathers thumbing through their rupees wondering how they would eat. Our room was spacious and homey complete with TV, DVD and free WiFi… not to mention a private bathroom. Despite being overjoyed that we were about to meet our new child, an ache crept into my heart remembering… remembering a single overflowing latrine for 60 women, remembering no running water, remembering women laboring on soiled mattresses strewn on the floor of the Government Hospital. Not only did Amanda have a large, clean adjustable bed… but I, with no medical needs at all, had a sofa sleeper to retire on incase I fancied a little shut eye.
The equipment at the ready just in our room, just for Amanda, exceeded what would be available in an entire L&D at the tertiary level in our District of W.Bengal which sees 40-50 deliveries a day. In comparison to the 3-4 nurses on duty for all those women, an entourage was assembling for Amanda’s VBAC. Hospital policy required a surgeon and anesthesiologist to be on call. Three different nurses assisted us throughout the night and a nurse midwife was present for the delivery. After a short and beautiful labor, Amanda gave birth to our first daughter, Juniper Sahara, at 5:16am. Finishing the requisite phone calls and postpartum care, Amanda rested in her clean warm bed. I, with a grateful heart, drifted off to sleep on the comfy sofa with my baby girl tucked in beside me. Later, I awoke to the visit of the Pediatrician.
I’ve experienced this intense bittersweet emotion with the birth of each of our children. After Asher’s birth via emergency C-section, I tasted the joy of my first born as well as the realization that, if I’d been born a Nepali villager, I would be a widower. With the miscarriage of Leaf Anjali, we experienced the bitter reality of substandard care and lack of access to emergency services as well as the sweetness of finding redemption even in that traumatic event. With Shepherd Ketan, Cedar Milan and now Juniper Sahara we experienced the joy of competent compassionate care in three very different contexts; a homebirth in America, a homebirth in a remote Indian village and a midwife assisted hospital delivery in Colorado. My joy and gratefulness in these 3 births has not been diminished by but instead tempered with the reality that my friends, neighbors and loved ones in India still do not have access to the standard of care they deserve. Our projects have brought them a few steps closer, but there is still a long journey to actualize holistic maternal/child care in South Asia.
A few days after Juniper’s birth, an unprecedented storm settled in on Boulder releasing a year’s worth of rain in under a week. Roads were washed out in this ‘monsoon’, landslides cut off mountain routes, people in remote towns had to walk hours in the rain to reach the nearest vehicle accessible road. Sounding very familiar, it dawned on me how similar Boulder is to Siliguri. It is the last town in the plains before the mountains. It is the place to come for all the essential services the folks “in the hills” need. For two weeks, our home in America tasted the reality that our home in India faces for 5 months of every year. The effects will last for months, maybe even years but there are some stark differences. This was a hundred… and some even say thousand… year flood. There is nothing on record which even comes close. The Himalayas will experience six times the rain this every year, not to mention every summer. Where we have emergency airlifts and FEMA, Himalayan villagers have their own two legs and arms. I do not mean to diminish the suffering which Coloradans have experienced but simply hope to elucidate the unimaginable reality of so many living half a world away.
One huge leap Amanda and I were able to make in linking Himalayan mothers with the care they need (especially in the heart of monsoon with all its perils) was getting “The Donkey” recognized as a Matriyaan Ambulance. Through this government sponsored program we are able to provide free transport to mothers to and from the hospital. One huge obstacle we’ve faced has been political grid lock in the region. ECTA/HIMserve has not received any reimbursements for our services since March. The cost for over 150 maternal transports has been flowing out of pocket and eroding our budget for the school and Community Health Volunteer training program. Some other local Matriyaan providers have buckled under the financial burden. Our vehicles have been able to provide unbroken service thanks to the support of our donors. Matriyaan has been tremendously successful in ensuring free access to essential medical services for families of every income bracket… but a government shutdown forced by partisan politics is threatening to reset the only tangible progress which has been made in the last decade. Just as the acute emergency of the Colorado floods reflects the chronic state of emergencies caused by the monsoon in India, I awoke this morning to find that our national politics are not so very different than the perpetual division and corruption which paralyzes India. Now Americans face a government shutdown as well. In both contexts, public health seems to be the collateral damage.
While it is tempting to focus on the bitter we can savor the sweet just as easily. We can do more than savor it; we can share it. We can do more than share it; we can create it. Here at ECTA we hope, pray and work to ensure that every mother, father and child can be “Born into love, Live in hope and Die with dignity”. Please take time to consider your roll in supporting this endeavor. ECTA needs to raise $1,500 dollars of recurrent monthly donations by the end of the year to make up for the Matriyaan deficit, maintain the organization and lay the groundwork for future initiatives. Every little bit helps. Automatic recurrent donations of $15, $25 or $50 dollars add up to meet our monthly goal. Donate at www.ecta-international.org/donate.html knowing that no one can truly be healthy, unless there is health for all.
Sincerely,
Ryan Phillips – Executive Director of ECTA International
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