Sitting on the edge of a mountain I look out over the valley. It is green and yellow. The green is a sign that there has been enough rain this season. The yellow is a color that captures my attention. It is the harvest time color of rice. It blows in the gentle wind. The yellow hues are lighter then darker as the stalks sway in the breeze. I can see a long distance. Directly below me is a small thatch hut. It has no sides, and is quite low. There are harvesters crowded in the hut, sitting on the ground, having a break from the heat of the afternoon. The men have been either swinging a sharp sickle or sythe to cut the rice. The women dressed in colorful saris have bent over for hours as they scoop arm loads of rice stalks to bring to the mat outside the hut. On the mat, there are children and other young people having what looks like a party. They are dancing, singing, laughing, tussling with each other. Knowing it was probably an extended family group working together, there was a lot of familiarity among them. This dancing was enjoyable, it seemed, but I also came to know that this act of dancing was really the threshing process. Beating, or in this case, jumping on the rice to free the rice from the head. A small fire to make tea indicated to me that they intended to stay the day, and perhaps even over night until that field was fully harvested. My eyes look out across the valley below me. Though I cannot see detail of each hut, I see the smoke rising at six more little fires, telling me there is quite a lot of harvesting taking place today. This is Nagaland, India, a far east state near the Chinese border. It is a picture out of National Geographic, I think. Behind, there are other sounds - that of little girls, playing and singing. On my right there is the sound of a hoe, where I watch the older girls weeding a vegetable garden. There pots and pans clanging together – the sign of a late supper being prepared. As I sit there, I don’t need to know what and who is behind me. They are the girls who live in Noah’s Ark Home – a loving and nurturing home for orphan girls. There are 15 girls growing up as sisters. They go to school each day and have learned English. They speak politely and confidently when asked a question. Their daily chores prepare them for womanhood in India. I know I will only be there for a week. When I get back home, there is something I need to work and talk about. Noah’s Ark Home needs a sturdy house. Currently the structure is made of bamboo. It is barely sufficient. However, complaining is not their way. They are sincerely thankful for what they have, feeling rich for the family and closeness the home offers all who live here. But when I go back to Lancaster County, I will tell the community how we must help this family of orphan girls. A much sturdier house to protect them from yearly cyclones, cold winters, and even hot summers. I thought of my conversation last night with Mama Asenlui, the homes’ mother. She said $75,000 US dollars would build them a six bedroom house. Naga style. Nothing fancy. Every space useful for more than one function. It seemed out of reach for her, of course “We can help.” I silently whispered to myself.

This is Nagaland, India, a far east state near the Chinese border. It is a picture out of National Geographic, I think.

Behind, there are other sounds - that of little girls, playing and singing. On my right there is the sound of a hoe, where I watch the older girls weeding a vegetable garden. There pots and pans clanging together – the sign of a late supper being prepared. As I sit there, I don’t need to know what and who is behind me. They are the girls who live in Noah’s Ark Home – a loving and nurturing home for orphan girls. There are 15 girls growing up as sisters. They go to school each day and have learned English. They speak politely and confidently when asked a question. Their daily chores prepare them for womanhood in India. I know I will only be there for a week. When I get back home, there is something I need to work and talk about. Noah’s Ark Home needs a sturdy house. Currently the structure is made of

bamboo. It is barely sufficient. However, complaining is not their way. They are sincerely thankful for what they have, feeling rich for the family and closeness the home offers all who live here. But when I go back to Lancaster County, I will tell the community how we must help this family of orphan girls. A much sturdier house to protect them from yearly cyclones, cold winters, and even hot summers. I thought of my conversation last night with Mama Asenlui, the homes’ mother. She said $75,000 US dollars would build them a six bedroom house. Naga style. Nothing fancy. Every space useful for more than one function. It seemed out of reach for her, of course “We can help.” I silently whispered to myself.