Happy Christmas from Shanti, around 2 weeks old and weighing in at just over one and a half kilos. She was born to an under age mother and her grandmother was discovered at the Govt. hospital where she was born, trying to sell her. Now she is here at the orphanage, a little bundle of instincts, a survivor…wriggling and settling herself against me, she regularly falls asleep feather light in my arms, in fact mostly she will only sleep if you hold her. Oh and often she sleeps with one eye open. Like i said, she is a survivor. Happy Christmas!!!
Some of the proud artists of the previous post, with their works. I actually find it very important to photograph the kids with their work. It gives them a real sense of pride which i think you can see in their faces, click on individual images for a better view:
Have not done this for a couple of years…I get the kids to write their name down the centre of a page and then trace a mirror image of it. The drawing is then turned vertically and they must transform it into a new drawing. Maybe its a little gory but i really love the above drawing by Naveen!!!
Check out some of the other marvellous creations my students came up with, click on the thumbnails for a closer look:
Its also a very democratic process i think because the transformative possibilities are endless, so something as unpromising as this:
can then become this rather lovely raggedy mouse drawing…
Night falls very quickly here in Andrha Pradesh, at dusk round about 5.30 i usually finish my after school photoshop lessons, if i am in BH in the more remote orphanage, it means hitching a ride home with the milk van. The distance is only 15 km but it takes us more than an hour to get home with all the obstacles…bad roads, herds of goats and sheep, buffalo…the usual…
The milk van is a robust little jeep…no doors, just a bar to hold on to in front of you and obviously no seat belt!. I have made this journey hundreds of times, the 2 hour round trip 3 times a week drives me a little nuts really…but i kind of love it too. We go from rural countryside, through remote villages, to railway crossings and chaotic major roads. We cross our fingers to miss the train crossing stop…we can be there for a quite a while, waiting for the longest freight trains you can imagine to pass by or a passenger train, crammed to the gills with passengers perched on the exit stairs to get some fresh air.
To turn into this main road…well you just need to plough in…against traffic (and common sense) with massive lorries hurtling by either side, a lot of people on foot, bikes, auto-rickshaws, motorbikes…EVERY vehicle honking its horn constantly…show no fear and just plough in…somehow it kind of works…though i have seen a lot of accidents…
..nearly home now…they do weddings at this sparkly palace… i get back around 6.30pm, pitch dark. Night falls quickly here.