Angela

Immediately after returning from our house visit, Isabel sent us out for another job.  We travelled along with another local volunteer social worker to Banyan Mental Hospital for Women.  There was a former client and resident of MCCSS who we were to pick up and take to her family in a town outside of Chennai.  I have never been to a mental hospital even in the States, and therefore, had no idea what to expect about this one.

As soon as we pull up, it looks as if we have just arrived at a prison, with big metal gates closing out any traffic, and security guards around the entrance.  We are signed in and head inside to wait for the client.  Just walking up to the door was enough to make my stomach turn, for there was a dog outside, missing a hind leg, and dragging itself around on top of what appeared to be a large black tumor coming out of its stomach.

As I said, I have no previous knowledge on how mental hospitals work, and therefore have nothing to compare it to.  But I do know that working with those with mental disabilities has never been my strong suit.  I’ve always viewed those in this profession as angels, for they provide love and care in a way that most of us cannot.

In India in general, JB and I draw attention to ourselves.  In a mental hospital in India, we draw a crowd.  We never got more than 15 feet from the door, just walked in and had a seat on the bench to wait. However, in this particular hospital the patients are free to go around as they please.  And they came around to us. 

As JB put it, “the great thing about mental hospitals is that social norms go out the window.  If there is an empty 2 inches beside you, I’m going to sit there and just stare at you without saying a word.”  This couldn’t be more true. As we waited on the nurses to bring out our client, I wondered how they’d ever know where she was if they allowed them to roam anywhere.  Eventually, they did find her and bring her to us.

Angela* Bau Mary was a small 50-year-old woman just shy of 5 feet.  She had long graying hair with a grey face to match that sported no smile, but the kindest eyes I had met since being at Banyan.  Angela quietly got in the car with us and the social worker explained in English (so Angela couldn’t understand) that Angela’s family requested that she be brought home for 3 days so they could break the news of the death of her step-brother.  However, Angela refused to go home, so they had to lie that we were bringing her to MCCSS.

The long car ride to her hometown had my mind racing.  What would it be like to live in a world of complete oblivion? Do they call it sweet oblivion for a reason?  At times I feel that way here in India.  Life continuing on around me, in a language I don’t understand.

As the ride got longer, Angela would look up to me with her soft eyes and say something to me in Tamil, and all I could understand was “MCCSS.”  The social worker nodded her head frantically behind her and I followed her lead in the lie.

I tried to comfort Angela, but in normal situations where spoken language was misunderstood, I rely on body language.  Angela’s mind made her deaf to these words as well.  Eventually she began to recognize landmarks and her terrified eyes ripped through my heart as she said, “No. Home.”

Angela’s case and information were never disclosed to me, so I was left to only imagine.  As a former resident at MCCSS, there are a number of different reasons as to why she was there.  Poverty, abusive home, trafficking.

I will probably never see Angela again so I can only hope that the home that frightened her mind was not the same home in reality.

*Name changed for client confidentiality.