It was only two days ago that I was wallowing in self pity, feeding on your empathy, quite sure that it was the end of the world for my kids. Their imagination stamped upon, their creativity stifled, poor misunderstood, unappreciated babies. Ah woe is me.
Until I picked up the paper and read this. Tribal children in Jharkhand – poverty stricken and diseased. Hot rods driven into their distended stomachs to kill worms. One rebels against the image that the West has of our country. Uneducated, superstitious, poor, neglected. Each time a foreigner brings it up, we find ways to disprove them. Our IITs, our malls, our metro systems, the new shining India.
And then something like this happens and everything else is wiped out. Is insignificant in the face of something like this. When all it takes is a little bottle of Zentel once in 6 months, why is it that its not getting to these poor tribals? Where are the government hospitals? Are they staffed? Are medicines available? And they probably aren’t if people are resorting to plunging hot rods through a child’s stomach. Some as young as three years old. As young as my little Bean. Read more at Tracking Hunger.
What are we going to do about it?