My translator friend

In our second medical camp, one of our local translators named Chandann Raiputt laughed when I asked him to tell a female patient that we needed to palpate her stomach. “Go find a girl to do it,” he said. “This is India.” I promptly asked Turja to do the exam, which he of course did successfully. I tell this story because it’s the only time I can remember Chandann being wrong during the past two weeks. I also know that Chandann was receptive to what he learned about medicine in this situation, just as he has been receptive during the rest of his life.

Chandann has told me snippets from his life and promises to write to me with many more details and anecdotes. His parents died during his early years (Chandann has no idea when they died nor does he know how old he is now), leaving him with nowhere to go. He told me that in the state of Bihar, it’s typical for violent land-grabbing locals to force orphans to run for their lives. Chandann made it on the streets for some time, living off scraps from trains. One day, he fell asleep on a train and ended up in Kolkata. When he disembarked alone in India’s third largest city, a pair of street children grabbed him and took him to their leader. Chandann was told that his job was to continue scouring the trains for products and money that he could take back and share with the pack. He lived around the station for a long time (again, he doesn't know how long), forced to become part of the blackmailing and battles between children fighting to survive. But he knew he was quickly dying. When the founder of Future Hope woke him up at the station one morning, Chandann decided to go with him, aware that he could be another victim of legendary organ harvests.

Chandann is still thriving at Future Hope and now has the opportunity to study layout design for automobiles in the UK. Pratit is extremely fortunate that he’s studying in Kolkata for the time being. First, he has been by far our most reliable translator, volunteering at least 25 hours of taxing translation work during our medical and education camps. Without him, we would have had to scramble and probably pay for translators. Second, he has been an intelligent guide and liaison to the city. Turja does a wonderful job at this, but we needed someone else to help us get around. Chandann knows the back roads. Third, Chandann has become a friend to all of us. He's been out to dinner with us and come over to hang out at our flat four nights in a row. It’s clearly been eye-opening for him to experience our lifestyles, but I don’t think this adjustment has been much of a challenge for him. Finally, we know that Chandann is receptive to any type of discussions, including those involving Pratit's relationship with locals. He always provides thoughtful responses.

I’ve debated a lot in my head how we can overcome the language barrier here. In my opinion, securing reliable translators, whether that involves payment or not, seems to be the essential first step. However, I don’t expect to find other translators with Chandann’s unique and truly inspiring character. Maybe Chandann will help us find others with similar qualities. I want to meet more people here that can become my friend like Chandann, people that can make me feel like I’m connecting with the city and its people, not just trying to help the city and its people.