Lauren In Bangalore: Saris and Manicures: Sumanahalli HIV Rehabilitation Centre

To my pleasant surprise, the Sumanahalli HIV Rehabilitation Centre allowed for Ana and me to be the exception to the no-camera rule. Below is a journal entry about my experience followed by some photos taken during the visit. Enjoy.

(Journaled on March 29, 2012)

I began my journey to the Sumanahalli HIV Rehabilitation Centre with Ana at 8:15am on Thursday, March 29, 2012. I knew that the day was off to a good start when the first auto driver that we approached knew our destination and automatically switched on the meter. The auto driver was also in a good mood. As we hugged the corners, he would reach out and slap his friends, fellow auto drivers who were hanging out on the side of the road, on their backs. About two kilometers into the ride he flagged down another auto and transferred us to him. Fortunately, I have learned how to get to the HIV Centre, so I was able to navigate the driver directly to Sumanahalli.

Ana and I arrived just as the common room was filling for the family meeting. We seated ourselves on the female side of the room and waited for everyone else to come. Ana and I decided that we would ask the Sister if we could be the exception to the no-camera rule for volunteers. Fortunately, the Sister responded to our request with a bright smile followed by saying, “Of course”. We didn’t know this at the time, but one of the younger female patients ended up taking the initiative to help us document the visit by using Ana’s camera to take hundreds of pictures. The family meeting began as usual with beautiful prayers sang by the women before everyone went around saying how they are doing. Over the past visits I have become aware of the social dynamics within the Centre. There are a few younger patients who appear to be relatively healthy and always seem to have control over the conversation during the family meetings by responding to everyone’s commentary. Then there are the patients who are clearly in the later stages of HIV/AIDS who simply shake their head instead of verbally stating how they are doing. And finally, there are the patients who are socially awkward during the meetings by having outbursts. These socially awkward individuals are not welcomed by most of the other patients. The social rejection of these few individuals was apparent during the meeting today when none of the female patients would make room on the bench for the awkward woman to sit. Towards the end of the meeting, the male counselor voiced a complaint about the quantity of tea being requested by the patients. The only patients to respond to the counselor’s accusation were the young and extroverted.

After the closing prayer of the family meeting, Ana and I went to the women’s courters and started a round of songs. We each sang a few verses of our favorite song. After a dozen songs or so, we moved into some tic-tac-toe and drawing. While searching her purse for another pen, Ana found turquoise nail polish. The women did not hesitate to begin painting Ana’s nails. I took this opportunity to put my manicurist skills to the test and began to paint the nails of one of the women. Painting her nails was really fun to begin with, but I was having too much fun by taking extra measures to make her feel as though she were in a salon. I gently blew on her nails before switching to the next hand and made sure that none of the paint got onto her skin. Watching her admire her own hands after I finished was so rewarding to me. I knew that I had accomplished my goal of making her feel special and pampered.

Amidst the different activities was an incident between one of the older women and a young boy. I looked to see what was going on and the older woman had grabbed a wooden paint-stirrer and waved it in the air as a warning to the boy. Confused, I asked what the boy had done and they indicated that the boy had hit one of the other patients. When the young boy did not apologize, she lightly tapped him on the lips and cheek with the stick. He burst into tears. It was painful to restrain myself from comforting him, but I knew that it was not my place to interfere with their disciplining of the boy.

Apparently I had been so distracted with the commotion that I had not seen Ana go inside with one of the women. When Ana emerged from the back room she was dressed in a burgundy and gold Sari. The women then proceeded to decorate Ana by tying her hair and placing a red flower in it. She looked absolutely beautiful. Before I knew it, I was being led to the back in order to be wrapped in a vibrant pink and white Sari. The sight of us dressed up tickled everyone. The women were giggling and repeating, “Hindustani! You Hindustani!” Ana and I were then urged to walk to the main building in order to show the rest of the Sumanahalli family. Every person who we modeled for laughed hysterically while attempting to give us compliments. After being paraded around for 10 minutes, we returned to the women’s courters and visited for about 15 minutes.

The last part of the visit was very touching. One woman unwrapped the Sari from me and I helped her fold the long cloth. As she put the pink Sari away in a small compartment under her metal bed, it struck me; the Sari that had been wrapped around my plump waist was the same Sari that this shockingly thin and petite woman wraps around herself. While in her compartment, she pulled out an old box that housed an old envelope with photos in it. She handed the photos to me, describing each photo to me with a combination of broken English and hand movements. I felt honored that she had opened her personal life to me. Ana and I were both disappointed when we realized that it was time for us to leave for our afternoon classes at Christ University.