FOSTERING - WITH LOVE AND CARE
For time immemorial, mothers have been epitomes of love and sacrifice. Ancient mythology and modern literature alike are full of stories of mothers whose boundless love for their children instilled humane values in them. While we do see mothers in our daily lives, in the family, among friends, neighbours, I have also met several women whose lives were full of challenges that would seem insurmountable – women with difficult husbands who are alcoholic, drug pushers, petty criminals, women who were widowed or deserted or abused, women who were engaged in backbreaking jobs on roads and buildings. But wherever they were, their primary concern was their children, most of whom would accompany them to places of their work. The challenges were multiplied if they had children who needed special attention – children with disabilities, children who were abused, children who were ill and malnourished.
It was this ability of women to love and care for children that Bro. Kimpton had faith in. He used to come in regular contact with children who were orphaned and abandoned, children in dire need, with nowhere to go. There was no way, in many cases, to trace their antecedents.
It must have been in the late-sixties. One day, someone approached him with five children, siblings, who had lost their parents. They hailed from Kodaikanal, a beautiful town nestling in the Kodai hills of Tamil Nadu in south India, 60 kms from where Bro. Kimpton lived. He met them at the church, about 10 kilometers from where he stayed, where he used to go for his morning and evening prayers. When asked if he could take care of the children, he had no hesitation in refusing. He had a home for poor boys who lived in small cottages. All of them were poor, many of them were either orphans or had only one parent. They were aged 6-14. He had made arrangements for their stay and for them to go to the nearby government school. But here were five children, 2 of them girls, both of whom and a boy were below 6. They all looked very under nourished. They apparently had not been going to school. There was no way in which he could take care of them. But he prayed for them in the hope that some kind soul would take care of them. Somewhere in his mind though, the thought of these children troubled him. They looked so sad and miserable. But then, there was only this much one could do, he comforted himself.
The same evening, a frail young lady, probably in her mid-twenties, came to meet him. She had a child with her. She had been deserted by her husband or was probably a widow. She had nowhere to stay. Could she be accommodated somewhere? Could Bro. Kimpton take care of her? Well, the answer was simple. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t! He did not have a programme for destitute women. There was also the question of money. These were early days when he had not yet been able to identify enough sources of funds to support his activities on a regular basis.
He was perturbed. Something told him that he had not taken the right decision. He got on to his motorcycle and went to the top of a hillock nearby. He sat, lost in his own thoughts. An inner voice seemed to tell him, “Go, bring the children back with you. Keep them with you”. His restlessness grew. He stayed on, trying to concentrate, to meditate and overcome his restlessness. A little later, he came down, got on to his motorcycle and went back to the church to meet the parish priest and tell him that he would take care of the children.
The priest was delighted. He accompanied the children to Bro. Kimpton’s place, 10 kilometers away in his jeep and saw off the children, content in the knowledge that they would be well taken care of. He then asked the woman who was still waiting in the hope of getting some help from him. “Can you take care of these children if I give you a place to stay here”, he asked. “Oh yes, readily”, the woman replied, her eyes lighting up with joy and expectation. She saw a ray of hope in this unexpected question. If she had a place to stay, she could also see to it that her own child was secure! “But”, Bro. Kimpton said, “I want you to be a mother to them. It’s not just taking care of them, feeding them and attending to their needs. It is about giving them love. It is about caring for them as your own children”, he said. She agreed readily, once again.
And that was the modest beginning of the foster family programme. As he got more support for the programme, he built small little houses as a dwelling unit for a woman who was called a ‘foster mother’. These women came from poor backgrounds and were invariably single – widowed or destitute. Some of them also had their own children with them, and in addition, they cared for children who found their way to RTU – abandoned, orphaned, sick, disabled. Most children came at a very young age. In the area which was notorious for female infanticide, it was no surprise that most of the children were girls. Some of them were just a day old.
But however weak or disabled or difficult a child was, the foster mothers welcomed them happily and soon got down to the task of settling the children in their new homes. They would go about the usual ceremonies with great joy – naming ceremony, feeding ceremony, ear piercing, tonsuring….well, just about anything. And more importantly, they gave them love. They would often reflect on their past, about the difficult circumstances that brought them to RTU and feel content about the security of their new abode. When the children went to school, they would spend time in learning a new skill. They also got counseling support on parenting, as some children were indeed very difficult because of the traumas or shocks they had faced in their lives. And as the children grew into adolescence, there were new challenges to be faced. They also were conscious of the high degree of accountability expected of them, for they were dealing with the lives of these children. The way they brought them up and instilled values in them would ultimately determine the type of human beings they would grow up to in life.
Many children ‘graduated’ from the programme. Most of the teenagers, and especially the boys, moved out to a hostel as they were now old enough to take care of themselves. Eventually, the children who moved out of the programme got married, had children. But they could never actually sever the bond that existed between them and their foster mothers. Each vacation, they came home, to spend time with their mothers. Each time they came, they brought with them nice little gifts that their pocket money could afford. Each time their mothers fell ill, they would come to visit them. Marriages were of course only with the blessings of these foster mothers, who often then took leave to oversee the delivery of their daughters or daughters-in-law.
It may sound like romanticizing. It may also seem like ‘gender stereotyping’, of women being seen prominently as ‘care givers’. But then, this was different. These were women who were not just doing a ‘job’, which they could well get away with. Most of them had invested much more into this ‘job’. They had invested tons of love and volumes of care, a true tribute to humanity !
For time immemorial, mothers have been epitomes of love and sacrifice. Ancient mythology and modern literature alike are full of stories of mothers whose boundless love for their children instilled humane values in them. While we do see mothers in our daily lives, in the family, among friends, neighbours, I have also met several women whose lives were full of challenges that would seem insurmountable – women with difficult husbands who are alcoholic, drug pushers, petty criminals, women who were widowed or deserted or abused, women who were engaged in backbreaking jobs on roads and buildings. But wherever they were, their primary concern was their children, most of whom would accompany them to places of their work. The challenges were multiplied if they had children who needed special attention – children with disabilities, children who were abused, children who were ill and malnourished.
It was this ability of women to love and care for children that Bro. Kimpton had faith in. He used to come in regular contact with children who were orphaned and abandoned, children in dire need, with nowhere to go. There was no way, in many cases, to trace their antecedents.
It must have been in the late-sixties. One day, someone approached him with five children, siblings, who had lost their parents. They hailed from Kodaikanal, a beautiful town nestling in the Kodai hills of Tamil Nadu in south India, 60 kms from where Bro. Kimpton lived. He met them at the church, about 10 kilometers from where he stayed, where he used to go for his morning and evening prayers. When asked if he could take care of the children, he had no hesitation in refusing. He had a home for poor boys who lived in small cottages. All of them were poor, many of them were either orphans or had only one parent. They were aged 6-14. He had made arrangements for their stay and for them to go to the nearby government school. But here were five children, 2 of them girls, both of whom and a boy were below 6. They all looked very under nourished. They apparently had not been going to school. There was no way in which he could take care of them. But he prayed for them in the hope that some kind soul would take care of them. Somewhere in his mind though, the thought of these children troubled him. They looked so sad and miserable. But then, there was only this much one could do, he comforted himself.
The same evening, a frail young lady, probably in her mid-twenties, came to meet him. She had a child with her. She had been deserted by her husband or was probably a widow. She had nowhere to stay. Could she be accommodated somewhere? Could Bro. Kimpton take care of her? Well, the answer was simple. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t! He did not have a programme for destitute women. There was also the question of money. These were early days when he had not yet been able to identify enough sources of funds to support his activities on a regular basis.
He was perturbed. Something told him that he had not taken the right decision. He got on to his motorcycle and went to the top of a hillock nearby. He sat, lost in his own thoughts. An inner voice seemed to tell him, “Go, bring the children back with you. Keep them with you”. His restlessness grew. He stayed on, trying to concentrate, to meditate and overcome his restlessness. A little later, he came down, got on to his motorcycle and went back to the church to meet the parish priest and tell him that he would take care of the children.
The priest was delighted. He accompanied the children to Bro. Kimpton’s place, 10 kilometers away in his jeep and saw off the children, content in the knowledge that they would be well taken care of. He then asked the woman who was still waiting in the hope of getting some help from him. “Can you take care of these children if I give you a place to stay here”, he asked. “Oh yes, readily”, the woman replied, her eyes lighting up with joy and expectation. She saw a ray of hope in this unexpected question. If she had a place to stay, she could also see to it that her own child was secure! “But”, Bro. Kimpton said, “I want you to be a mother to them. It’s not just taking care of them, feeding them and attending to their needs. It is about giving them love. It is about caring for them as your own children”, he said. She agreed readily, once again.
And that was the modest beginning of the foster family programme. As he got more support for the programme, he built small little houses as a dwelling unit for a woman who was called a ‘foster mother’. These women came from poor backgrounds and were invariably single – widowed or destitute. Some of them also had their own children with them, and in addition, they cared for children who found their way to RTU – abandoned, orphaned, sick, disabled. Most children came at a very young age. In the area which was notorious for female infanticide, it was no surprise that most of the children were girls. Some of them were just a day old.
But however weak or disabled or difficult a child was, the foster mothers welcomed them happily and soon got down to the task of settling the children in their new homes. They would go about the usual ceremonies with great joy – naming ceremony, feeding ceremony, ear piercing, tonsuring….well, just about anything. And more importantly, they gave them love. They would often reflect on their past, about the difficult circumstances that brought them to RTU and feel content about the security of their new abode. When the children went to school, they would spend time in learning a new skill. They also got counseling support on parenting, as some children were indeed very difficult because of the traumas or shocks they had faced in their lives. And as the children grew into adolescence, there were new challenges to be faced. They also were conscious of the high degree of accountability expected of them, for they were dealing with the lives of these children. The way they brought them up and instilled values in them would ultimately determine the type of human beings they would grow up to in life.
Many children ‘graduated’ from the programme. Most of the teenagers, and especially the boys, moved out to a hostel as they were now old enough to take care of themselves. Eventually, the children who moved out of the programme got married, had children. But they could never actually sever the bond that existed between them and their foster mothers. Each vacation, they came home, to spend time with their mothers. Each time they came, they brought with them nice little gifts that their pocket money could afford. Each time their mothers fell ill, they would come to visit them. Marriages were of course only with the blessings of these foster mothers, who often then took leave to oversee the delivery of their daughters or daughters-in-law.
It may sound like romanticizing. It may also seem like ‘gender stereotyping’, of women being seen prominently as ‘care givers’. But then, this was different. These were women who were not just doing a ‘job’, which they could well get away with. Most of them had invested much more into this ‘job’. They had invested tons of love and volumes of care, a true tribute to humanity !
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