Day 77 : Thursday May 27th. RTU

After early morning Mass at 6.00am, I said goodbye to Brother Jim, and slipped him a birthday present from John Le Seve and family. He was going to Bodi, with a bus full of children, and I would not see him again. Perhaps ever.

Brother Jim was very gracious in thanking me 'for everything' and he wanted me to convey his thanks to my dad too. I knew that he was grateful for the sponsorship money that my generous supporters had donated, and I think he must have been a little bit touched that this over-50 year old cycled half way across the world to be with him on his birthday, but perhaps it was the plate of chips that was on his mind at the time.

But the truth is that I was grateful to him, for all he'd taught me all those years before. I suppose that was why I'd come all this way to see him. At that time, he was one of the very few people in the world I felt I could believe in and I knew then, as now, that he was an exceptionally good man. I knew that the work he was doing was right. He had a simple faith, he lived a simple life, he worked hard to serve the poor and he relied on God's help. That was it. And he didn't stop. It was clear that he'd not changed much, unlike the rest of India.

Over the weeks of my journey, as I made my way to this place on my cycle, my friends would sometimes say 'When the going gets tough, the tough get going', to encourage me (or perhaps to shame me) into keeping going. But for sixty years this old soldier had been slogging away, making the world a better place for some forgotten souls in Kalluppatti and the surrounding villages. For much of the time, and in more than one sense, he was on his own.

Murthu was the first person to speak to me, apart from Brother James. She had the loveliest smile I'd seen in India, and I grew fond of her in a very short time. She was very kind to me and I'm grateful to Murthu for making me feel so welcome at RTU. I have included her picture here so that, if any person should be reading this and visiting RTU, they might thank her on my behalf.

Thirty years before, Mayandi worked in the Leprosy Rehabilitation workshops, and during my final year there, he was married to another leprosy patient, and I attended their wedding. It was a wonderful occasion. He is still married, and his wife works at the Pushparani Clinic every day. I was very pleased to see them both. Jacinta had also attended the wedding.

After breakfast, I was picked up by staff from the house building department to have a ride out to some villages to see houses under construction.

At a certain point in the day, the light from the sun can get under the ferrocement tiles, making it look as if they might not be watertight. But they are. Years ago, we used to use timber in the roof construction, but these days no wood is used in any part of the house. The roof tiles are supported with steel angle.

The walls are made from hollow concrete blocks, which are both very strong and also good thermal insulators. The edges of walls, such as at door ways, are reinforced with additional cement and concrete lintels support the weight of the blocks above.

The weight of the roof is carried by the welded steel angle roof frames and slats which in turn rest on the hollow block walls. Where walls do not exist, such as over the verandah area, additional steel is used.

The window frames and the window shutters are made from ferrocement at RTU, complete with hinges, catches and steel security bars. The assembled units are brought on site ready for inclusion in buildings when required.

The cooking area includes a stove and a storage area, and additional ventilation to allow smoke to escape from the house.

All houses come with an additional shelf to keep items off the floor, and the new owners might add further shelves or furniture in due course.

The houses are constructed and finished to a very high standard. This can be seen in the quality of the raw materials and the proportions used in mortar and concrete mixes, the accuracy and smoothness of the floor finish, the equal spacing and pointing between concrete blocks, the even gaps in the edges of doors and window covers within their frames and so on.

Every house has an external private toilet and bathroom - but it is part of the main building, adjacent to the verandah. This is a very popular feature of the RTU houses, as previously the people would go to the toilet in the fields.

The verandah provides an area where the family can sit out in the shade. The bench is used for sitting on - and sometimes sleeping on. For three years I slept outside on a concrete bed a little wider than this.

The walls are a little taller than the houses we constructed thirty years ago - when the line of the verandah roof was set at a shallower angle to the main roof. The additional height helps to keep the houses relatively cool.

This shows the difference between the old and the new. There's no comparison. The temporary house, made from coconut leaves, has been lived in by the family for five years, although it has been repaired a number of times. The new house, which is also very much bigger, will be good for at least fifty years, and probably a lot longer.

The cooking area from the old house is basic but effective - if there's no wind. The new kitchen has a similar stove, though made from concrete and set at a convenient height. Very little wood is used in these stoves.

I was kindly invited into the old house of the family. The mother and father came from different castes, and they got married. I understand they were then disowned by both families, and found themselves in big trouble. The family has few possessions, just a few pots and pans and the clothes they wear.

I saw many families who were just moving in to new homes, and their gratitude was very obvious. These poor families, who'd previously lived in unbearable conditions, had been given a new start in life by the kind people who supported RTU and Brother James. It was a real honour for me to be able to spend a little time with these good people.

At around 3.00pm I had one of the pain killers that Bro James had given me - some fancy American tablets - because I knew I would be in for a rough ride on the bus to Chennai.

In the afternoon, I cycled over to Batlagundu to say goodbye to VJ and his family. We had a fruit juice inside the house, and chatted for a while before I ran out of time once more. I wondered if I would ever see VJ and his family again.

On the way back from Batlagundu, progress through the town was even slower than usual due to a procession. It was some kind of festival celebration, and these women were all heading for the temple.

As I made my way back to RTU, the sun was setting over the hills of Kodaikanal for the last time. In the morning I would be hundreds of miles away. I thought about Chennai, but I also thought about my family and my home, because the journey to Chennai was the first leg of my journey back to my family.

Later in the evening, I had supper and a second pain killer. I hoped that by the time I was on the bus the tablets would take effect and give me a chance of some sleep during the long bus journey to Chennai.

I packed up as best I could. As I was about to load the bike into the Jeep that was to take me to the bus station, my mobile phone failed to switch on. Although it was fully charged, the on/off switch had given up completely, so my phone was out of action - the only means of communicating with home and the person I was due to meet in Chennai. Fr Anthony gave me a spare phone and I inserted the SIM card from mine, and the numbers which had been saved on the SIM were accessible, so I was back in contact with all my contacts again. As I was wondering how I could repay Fr Anthony for the phone, he escorted me to the bus station. By 9.30 the Air Conditioned bus to Chennai arrived and the bike was loaded into the luggage compartment and I was shown to my seat. I was on my way home. I was excited. I was also tired. The pain-killers were working. I fell asleep.