HOW DID IT FEEL???

Upon my return from leading a group of fifty-four Rotarians and Friends of Rotary, from seven different countries, half-way around the world to India, I was met by a number of friends who asked, “How does it feel to have returned to India on your seventh trip?” “How does it feel to be home?” “How does it feel to travel to and witness what is no less than a paradox in society?” “How does it feel to be a part of Rotary International’s only corporate project – the eradication of polio in the world?” “How does it feel to have left your family, your job, your colleagues, your friends, your community to participate in a nationwide effort, with some 250,000 other volunteers, giving two drops at a time of life-saving polio vaccine, which may save the life of one child?”

Perhaps an underlying question which tacitly lingers just below the surface in the minds of many is, “Why did you do this?”

Nearly eight years ago, my wife, Jane and I traveled to Baltimore, where we attended a leadership conference for Rotarians in the northeastern United States. While there, each of us sat in on general plenary sessions, as well as numerous break-out discussion groups. One in particular remains in my mind, quite vividly. It was a breakfast meeting, sort of a round-table discussion. The topic was “Children at Risk”. The moderator of the session was a friend, G. Holger Hansen, a past District Governor for Rotary, from Pennsylvania. My first impression, when considering the topic, was to think we were going to be talking about youth in our society who are troubled within their families, their schools, their communities, and who unless intervening measures were taken, might well fall into a life of crime. This was not the topic at hand.

“Hogie”, as he was called, told us about a trip he was planning in January 2001, where he and other Rotarians would be traveling to India to participate in a National Immunization Day – where literally millions of children, under the age of five years, would receive polio vaccine, and all in a single day! It was at this point that my mind began to wander a bit. I remembered the mother of one of my father’s secretaries who was confined to an iron lung, to assist her in her breathing, as she was a victim of polio. I remembered a classmate in Portland, who had been stricken with the horror of paralysis and the inability to breathe. I remember the daughter of a friend of my parents who struggled to walk, because she had deformed legs, ankles and feet, and could barely stand without the assistance of a mother’s helping hand or a pair of wooden crutches. I remembered that as kids, we were not allowed to go swimming at the Boys’ Club or the YMCA, or drink from a public water fountain, for fear of contracting polio.

All the way home at the end of that weekend in Baltimore, Jane heard me say many times, “All I want for Christmas is to be able to travel to India to immunize kids against polio!” I told that to Jane, to my mother, to my daughter and son-in-law, and made up my mind that if it were at all possible, that I would be a part of that gathered force to work together to rid the world of polio. Christmas came and my wish came true. My family made it possible for me to purchase the ticket and pay for my hotels and my meals and the folks in my office agreed to cover for me during my two-week absence. To say that I was grateful would be a gross understatement.

As time neared, I asked my colleagues if there was anything in particular they might want me to purchase for them and bring home from India. There were trinkets and jewelry, clothing and carpets, but one request stood prominently before all others. One of the women in my office said, “Elias, don’t bring back anything for me, but sometime on that day, pause for a moment, as you squeeze two drops from the vial of vaccine onto the tongue of one of the children and think of me.” This comment stopped me for a moment and moved me at the same time.

A few weeks later, I was standing in the school yard of one of the grade schools in the oldest section of Delhi, facing dozens of children who were lined up awaiting their vaccine. As each child advanced and announced his or her name, or when a parent of an older sister or brother proudly presented a younger sibling for his or her drops, the exercise of administering the drops of life-saving serum became almost routine, almost monotonous. But something changed. As a young Muslim woman came forward to the head of the line, holding a tiny package in her arms, she looked at me from behind the burkha, which covered all but her eyes, and I guess determined it would be alright for her to entrust her most precious possession – her infant daughter, to me. At that moment, when I squeezed two tiny droplets into the mouth of her baby, I paused and looked up to the sky and thought for a few moments about my friend. My quiet thoughts were shattered by the crying of this tiny baby, who did not particularly care for the flavor of the drops, but who I am sure preferred her mother’s milk. I took a few moments and tried to calm the baby, by humming a soft tune, and when she stopped her crying, I gently passed her back to her mother. The woman, once again, looked at me and simply nodded in silence – a gesture of gratitude. But it was I who was most grateful for the opportunity I had just experienced, of knowing that through the generosity of Rotarians throughout the world, I might have served as the delivery boy for vaccinating this child – that I might have saved this tiny infant from the horrors of this crippling disease.

Seven years later, I still feel an enormous gratitude for the opportunity which first presented itself to me in January 2001. Knowing that somehow I was a part of a greater effort, not only to assist in the immunization of millions of children against polio, but to hopefully contribute to a greater understanding between cultures, which eventually will lead to a lasting peace in this world – for this I feel most grateful, I feel blessed, I feel humbled. Why did I do this? Perhaps the paperweight that sits on my desk, which shares a thought of Mahatma Gandhi, states it best: Be the change you wish to see in the world.