08/11/10….From Kolkata with love – the realities of life as a slum dog

FOLLOWING the huge success of the film, Slum dog Millionaire, many of us have some impression of what life in the slums of India are like for those who have to live there. But for Eddie Francis, who lived and went to school here in Thame, his recent visit to Kolkata (or Calcutta as we are more used to calling this, the second most populous city in India) the reality came as both a cultural and an emotional shock. But it was an experience he will never forget and one that has cemented Kolkata firmly into his heart.

Here is Eddie?s story, a story of poverty, disease and hardship in many ways, but one of a place nevertheless where hope, pride and possibilities for the future are never too far away thanks to charitable organisations like The Hope Foundation with whom Eddie works to raise funds:

IT hit me the second I stepped out of the airport and into the hordes of expectant locals waiting excitedly for the return of their families, neighbours and fellow villagers; each one of them jostling for a bit of rail to cling to whilst they peered through the doors into the arrivals hall. This is a city where, for many, flying is still a big deal!

I choked in the smog, bewildered by the humidity, heat and sensory overload that smack even the most seasoned visitor in the face, as the frenetic buzz of this overcrowded metropolis swallows you up and holds you in its talons until you leave. Our trolley of bags was whipped away from us by a small gang of street kids who had perfected the English phrases they needed for their work. Once I was reassured that our bags were not at risk, we headed over to our jeep and driver, attracting an ever-increasing clamour of personalities eager to cash in from us, for we were the only white faces in sight. Kids and mothers with babies surrounded us, palms cupped expectantly for ?rupees or your local money sir?. A couple of pounds lighter in the pocket, we made it into the jeep, hands ? and in one case a stump ? still prodding us desperately through the open window before the driver whisked us away.

I was in Kolkata with The Hope Foundation, a charity I have been promoting and supporting for eighteen months, to see how the money raised is being spent. I?d heard all about it, seen the pictures and watched the videos so I thought I knew what I was in for. Boy was I in for a shock!

Wedged into the back of the jeep, we left the airport and clattered, hurtled, honked and squeezed our way through the most insane traffic I have ever encountered. ?Clapped out? buses, pre-war yellow taxis, rickshaws, tuk-tuks, hand drawn carts, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians and cows fought for poll position in a never-ending rally of one-upmanship. Most vehicles don?t have wing-mirrors here, and even if they do they are folded in. Here the horn is king where brakes seem like an ego-denting last resort. On the footpaths families go about their daily business, cooking, washing, cleaning and sleeping, making a living in whatever way they can. The poverty here is overwhelming; unavoidable, blatant and unforgiving yet a sense of pride runs through this city amongst those who have so little. To survive with literally nothing in this heat and humidity amid relentless smells and smog that makes a blue sky impossible, seems unimaginable.

The poorest children all over the city are left to fend for themselves, scraping a living on the roadside and in the slums; competing with dogs, pigs and other animals for tit-bits. Children who are entitled to a state education are put to work by their parents out of necessity for food is the obvious priority. Existing in the squalor, filth and the stench of the roadside and slums, often subjected to abuse and at least harassment ? this is the harsh reality of existing in absolute poverty in an apartheid of the richest and very poorest in the second-fastest growing economy in the world. These forgotten communities have been left behind and they need our help. It is our moral duty to do what we can to affect even the smallest change for the better to even just one person?s relentlessly impoverished life – a life that is incomparable to anything to be found here in the West.

Cocooned by the faded colonial glamour of our hotel, the Tollygunge Golf and Country Club, we immediately relished the serenity and the respite from the chaos of the city. Over breakfast we set about drawing up an agenda for the week. The Hope Foundation runs or supports 64 projects around the city so our choice wasn?t exactly limited, although the mind-blowing spectrum of work undertaken by the Foundation would only become apparent to me as the week went on.
Throughout our all- to- short week, we met children with heart-breaking stories and unimaginable pasts; illness, abuse, abandonment, separation, destitution and death touch the souls of so many. The Hope Foundation gives these children a route out of this unimaginable existence, and a better future to look forward to.

Diep is 3