It was late at night, lightly raining, and as we were bussed from the airport to our hotel we passed through some of what is normal living for much of their population – shacks and shanties, tarpaulin-covered living areas, sheets of tin pulled up against anything to form some shelter for those who needed it – altogether a distressing and upsetting sight.

Alongside that, in some cases, could be a large house or hotel, gated and guarded by security guards.  (Wherever we travelled there were armed guards or soldiers).

It was hard to sleep that night, the images floating around in our minds - probably also a bit of jet-lag but a definite feeling of unease and of being out of our comfort zone.

From then on we slowly became (almost) accustomed to the constant (and I mean constant) horn-blowing because – “horn must be blown whenever driver wants to overtake!” – or remind another vehicle that he is behind or to warn a pedestrian, or a cow, or a bus or a tuk-tuk or a motorbike or a bicycle or whatever – that the vehicle is about to pass!!

But – the unbelievable traffic just melded together, cars drove up the wrong side of the road, cattle wandered everywhere, little children ran and skipped between cars begging for money or food, armed police and soldiers walked about - and we only saw one accident on all the roads we travelled.  For all the chaos and seeming confusion, their bus drivers must be among the best in the world, to be able to cope with that every day.

Our journey for Rotary polio vaccination took us to India several years ago, but the memories are still very clear in our minds.

During the trip, we saw much of their culture.

We saw women everywhere in beautiful saris digging in the road, we saw little children being carried by their bigger brother or sister, begging for money or anything. We saw little ones just so dirty that our hearts ached to take them home and give them a bath and warm meal.  We saw important professional people, well-dressed, and with such a command of the English language that we thought we were in England.

We saw water so filthy that we couldn’t believe it could be classified as water – and of course we were strictly warned that we must never drink the local water and always disinfect our hands.

We saw toilets we couldn’t describe, and yet which people accept as the norm – although it is rare to find a public toilet!  We saw huge palaces and ornate hotels which nearly made our eyes pop and we saw people who earn 9c a day labouring (and they are the lucky ones because they have a job – no social service over there!).

We saw garbage everywhere – piles of it wherever we looked.

What a journey – what a learning experience for all of us – and what a wonderful opportunity to see how so many of our fellow human beings are living – in such stark contrast to our way of life.

My final thoughts in my diary read:

Just so grateful to be able to participate in such a worthwhile program.  The time we had with the End Polio campaign people, the vaccination clinics, the dear little children just opening their mouth so patiently for the drops, and the excitement of the parents that their children are now safe from at least that disease.

Can’t wait to get home – was a wonderful trip – so very well organised and a real kaleidoscope of feelings and thoughts – all mixed up with little kids, extreme poverty – and mixed up again with hope and vision and determination.

The people we saw and met have all combined to make this a life-changing two-and-a-half weeks.  I don’t think I will ever be the same – I hope that I will look at things in a different light now – and please God don’t let me “sweat the small stuff”!

The polio program took me so far out of my comfort zone in India, but I learned that polio is not just a word – it’s an action! And we can change things – one step at a time!