"My Name is Juwa"

We started off for our second visit into the slums late in the Thursday afternoon. For Kyle, it was his first chance to see Kolkata in the daylight. For twenty minutes or so, we rode with Shaji as we twisted and weaved through the streets toward the Pramodnager slum. We are going to see Rana, who works in the slum primarily with children, but also with their families. The streets are packed with people going here and there, carrying bags of fruit, toting sacks of recycled plastics, and doing any number of other things. The roads into the slums were especially bumpy and in need of repairs. The car often sways and jolts as we drive through the various potholes and crevices, all the while Shaji honks people, bicycles, and cars out of the way as we motor past them. The sun is beginning to set and it blazes into our eyes a very brilliant orange as we drive mostly west.

Thr car comes around one of the last corners as a large pond and a huge pile of trash behind it comes into view. “That is the dumping site for the northern district,” Shaji tells us. The garbage is many feet high and overshadows the back side of the small lake. “This lake is called ‘Gil’. It is known for people dumping dead bodies in it. People don’t like to go around this lake alone at night.” Shaji continues. “What?” I reply. “This lake is known for where they rape and kill the young girls. They throw their bodies into the lake after they are done. Later at night and early in the morning, drunkards gather around here. Then they bring the girls. That’s why people don’t like to come here alone…” says Shaji. He goes on to tell us that the Pramodnager slum land has been given to the slum residents to build on, now 20 years after its initial establishment. Accordingly, the families living in the slum have begun to build small houses made of hollow concrete, standing one or two stories high. This slum is known for housing criminals. Whenever there is crime locally, police will come to this slum and round up the “suspects”. Though the slum consists mostly of Bangladeshi migrants who moved into Kolkata for a better life, outsides look upon it with disdain, thinking it to be merely a group of thieves and murderers.

A couple of minutes later Shaji pulls into the slum and we park the car at the corner of a soccer and cricket field. Kids are running all around, yelling and enjoying the last few minutes of daylight they have to play in. As we get out of the car, a man tells Shaji that he cannot park there. Shaji responds in Bengali and the man nods his head slightly to the left, acknowledging that “it’s ok”, and we continue on. People are on the street everywhere: women coming out of their homes for various chores, children staring curiously at us as they talk to one another, men with mobile kitchens cook food on the side of the dusty road, and others are simply lounging around, apparently relaxing as the sun sets.

We walk down the narrow road past a few buildings and turn into the second or third door. Inside we see Rana, teaching and playing with about twenty or so children. Most are very young, with the oldest being about 13 years old. Rana motions for us to take a seat at the front of the class, and Kyle & I sit down on two, old, plastic chairs. Then Rana has the children sing for us. It is beautiful to see so many small children singing—some with their eyes closed, other with their hands clasped together as if in prayer—and it is a joyful, hope filled experience. After the song, I ask Rana what they are singing. He tells me that it is a song about Jesus being our eternal friend and companion. We take pictures of the children after the song as they are all very eager to be part of the picture, shouting and laughing as they all try to get a head into the frame. Rana calms them down and then has them do introductions. They are so excited and happy to practice their English, and even happier when we reply with a “Very good!” or “My name is Jacob”.

Afterward, we take more pictures and the kids are dismissed. Once this happens, chaos breaks loose and they begin running around the room while having fun and playing. Little kids begin shaking my hand and saying “Thank you”, even though we didn’t do anything. A little girl—maybe 10 or 11 years old--eventually walks up and says, excitedly, “My name is Juwa”. “My name is Jacob,” I reply. “Thank you,” she exclaims, and then runs away laughing and smiling.

All of these children are reaping the benefits of the hard work Rana and KCM are doing in the slums. In otherwise dark and dismal circumstances, Jesus is showing up through this work…and in the smiles and songs of these young children, singing about their eternal friend Jesus. I feel as if these early days spent in Kolkata are full of these experiences. There is the city and communities that are beaten down by the spiritual and physical realities of sin, but there is also those children, bringing a tangible hope in the dark.