It wasn't all day trips.......... Old Age Home

Much as we'd enjoyed our forays into teaching, we thought we'd like a change when we got to Goa. It was with some trepidation, though, that we decided to volunteer in an old age home in Margao, a market town 10 kms from Colva. It's not something that we've had much experience of in the past but it seemed a worthwhile project which nobody else was keen to do, apart from Tim who's training to be an occupational therapist. (In India we saw no sign that they have ever heard of occupational therapy.)We thought that his expertise & enthusiasm would make things easier for us &, of course, we reckoned that our own common sense & life ski ls would help too ................ & it hadn't seemed such a terrible place on our 1st visit.

We weren't expected to help in any physical way with the residents or "inmates" as everyone else seemed to call them (the connotations evoked of prison inmates or poorhouse inmates weren't so far off the mark, unfortunately). No cleaning, changing beds or heaving people about was to be required. We were aiming to provide the little extras that institutional life doesn't always make available.

We took in art materials (paper, colouring books, pens, paints, pencils, scissors), games (cards, chess, draughts, sudoku), books, newspapers, musical instruments, the paraphernalia necessary for manicures & pedicures (scissors, massage oil, files, nail polish), & balloons ( as suggested by Howard's Mum, Judy, to encourage participation in exercising!). We got a few people interested in all of the above, but the vast majority were either resistant to trying anything outwith their ordinary routine or were unable to participate for various reasons - we weren't allowed access to some poor souls whom we think were suffering from dementia & some had disabilities such as missing limbs, strokes & paralysis. Our activities were confined therefore mainly to the able-bodied & to the talkative.

Music, in one way or another, gave us the most tangible feeling of success, during our brief weeks of visiting the home every morning. We organised a concert by girls from the nearby orphanage which really lifted everybody's spirits. This was thought to be so successful & such a fresh, exciting idea that the staff of IDEX have vowed to make it a regular event. On our last day, a more informal sing-along really drew people in & proved, as always how music can overcome many barriers. Howard sang a few songs from his repertoire, we had requests for Beatles' & Cliff Richard's songs & the ex-advocate resident who thought himself a cut above everybody else astonished us with a spirited rendition of cowboy songs! Everybody when we had to call it a day.

Just talking & listening, though, proved to be the most practical thing that we could do., notwithstanding the language barrier, of course.

Sadly, the experience as a whole did not leave us with a warm glow. Most of the rooms were ranged along the sides of a covered balcony bordering a sparse courtyard garden & the rooms were reasonably spacious & airy - hence our initially favourable impression. Day by day, however, we became aware that it was not a very pleasant place to be. The residents had to wear uniforms. They were allowed few personal belongings - apart from anything else, there was nowhere to store them. The floors were regularly mopped over but the tables, chairs & walls were not clean. When we pointed out the sticky remains of meals, one of the residents was ordered to waft a dry cloth over them.

The outdoor toilets were dirty. Residents with continence problems were not provided with incontinence pads, had the mattresses removed from the beds & if they didn't have the wits to protest (for instance, if they had had a stroke) they were not given clothing on their lower halves. There were chamberpots set into the middle of the wooden beds which other residents had to empty. Some old people were left lying on the bare boards of their beds day & night, wearing only shirts, reliant on their room mates to help them over the potties or to mop up the bed if the need arose. We were so horrified that we protested to IDEX & suggested that, at the least, they could fund waterproof sheets being bought & the cost of laundering soiled bedlinen. we were even more horrified when we learnt that the government provides these things but the staff in the Home don't want the extra work involved in having to change sheets & clothing frequently.

The orderlies, who are government employees have well paid jobs, & pensions, for life & can't be sacked! There's no incentive to do a good job & they don't seem to care. They are always warned when a government inspection is expected so are known to lock some of the rooms, with residents inside, & clean the rest of the place up when inspectors come to call. There were 2 nurses but they see their job as merely to dole out medicine, check blood pressure & apply bandages. Once! One old lady showed us where she had fallen & the dressing was obviously days old & filthy but we were told there was no need to change it. Doctors paid occasional visits but seemed to have no power or will to ensure that proper care was provided. One 84 year old lady, hauled out of bed to sit huddled uncomfortably in a plastic chair, turned out to have a fractured pelvis. a man with a broken back was given no physiotherapy & had to rely on charity for the provision of a walking frame or wheel chair. Those with missing lower limbs also had to make do with donated prosthetics which were incredibly old fashioned (no working joints), were given no padding to make them bearable & no training as to how to use them.

We could go on & on with the horror stories. We became increasingly depressed, disheartened & angry. Part of our angst might have been the result of discovering that there were people of our age in there! How could we change anything? Even if we did, how could we ensure that changes would be permanent? Nobody seemed to accept responsibility for any of the problems. In fact, we're not sure that anyone in authority there thought that there were problems. Culturally, it's thought to be shameful to end up in a Home, in the sense that it shows that you have no family to care for you & to have no family is is to be a social outcast. So the residents don't think that they deserve anything more & much of society seems to agree.

There were local volunteers who organised hospital & dentists' visits plus free medical care, local people did donate food, priests & neighbours organised donations of equipment (which often ended up unused in cupboards) & very rare outings were organised, in the state-provided bus that sat rusting at the doorfor the able-bodied & continent but none of it was enough to make up for the inadequacies of the system as a whole. We certainly felt helpless to change anything! We also felt that a nation which can afford nuclear weapons, a huge army, supposedly the best airforce in the world & a booming economy could do better by its own citizens. Maybe the future will bring changes & maybe we gave a few people an idea of what those changes could be - a fairly lame way to have ended up feeling about the situation but what more could we have hoped for?