I’ll never forget boxing day 2005. A tsunami hit Asia and 100s of thouands had been either killed or made homeless

It was time to mobilize the troops. Myself, 2 of my sisters, a cousin of mine and a few pals who were also Scientologists were in India by the 28th of Dec and in a disaster zone, boats hanging out of 2nd floor window kinda of place. After 2/3 days of travel and being shot with jabs for malaria and what not we were ready to work.

Groggy but keen.

After 36 hours I’d gotten over my protein deficiency attack (thanks to 3 omelettes a day, as ordered by the doc) and had manage get the team to work to get us to where we needed to be. Nagapattiam. Bus/train/taxi travel etc was arranged.

As we watched the BBC news report to the world that India had it under control and needs no help we saw trucks dump grain and grain into puddles of mud at the bottom of a 2km dirt driveway to feed a nunnery being used to house around 1000 homeless. The conditions were appalling when we arrived, just chaos.

We established something of a routine. We’d arrive in the morning and await the grain delivery and take it off the truck. Head up to the nunnery with it in our mini bus and then the day would kick off.

With better grain.

My little sis Jo got the nickname Queen Bee and she just owned all the kids in the nunnery. Every one of them. She had them outside playing, singing and making toys from stones and sticks and rope All day, she loved it and aye got bored and had her lunch when the wain napped. The genius of it brought joy in itself.

That to me was that it’s own miracle.

The joy of joy.

The rest of us had other duties. Getting the loo’s cleaned and yes we told those there to help us to do it. Got a kitchen going with running water… We were not moving in, we’d come to help them get out of the need for a nunnery etc. Usual.

Got the place a bit more ship shape.

As a trained counselor in Scientology though I had another duty. Delivering touch assists to the ill.

Anyway, I ended up with a name for myself and one morning a wee lass maybe 8 about the size of a 4′ nothing was tugging on my shirt. I paid attention put the box of grain down, watched her gestures and followed her into the nunnery.

Her mood was urgent.

When I got to the room her grandfather was lying on the bed in obvious agony and fever.

I did take over.

I demanded quiet and started what is known as a touch assist. It simply reconnects the spirit to the body in laymans terms. It involves ‘laying on hands’ but it’s actually a bit more scientific than that. You touch the left shoulder then the right, the left elbow then right, then each finger tip, left and right in sequence. It’s an actually technique not just prodding people with fingers or laying on hands.

The a journalistic imbeciles take on it.

Anyway this granddad was in a bad way. Thin as a rake, hadn’t eaten in 2 days, constant diarrhea and vomiting, typical of a high temperature. I gave him a touch assist. The room was quiet and calm while I did this for half an hour each day, I did it for 3 days.

It’s common in India in normal out and about everything dandy that white people are deferred to. In a disaster situation we were seen as the salvation and folk knew it.

Because we were.

To this day I can not tell you what saved this chaps life.

A) The touch assists

B) The 1/2 hour peace and quiet per day and some ‘extra’* TLC.

C) The improved sanitary conditions and sound of happy kids playing outside or even just his own immune system.

*There’s a wee x factor in there, white ‘specialist’ people of any sort showing up in India right after a disaster has some weight by the way. Especially among lower caste people. A prevalent condition and one we never paid any heed to.

For us people needing help were people in need and that has it’s own power to. Might be placebo or otherwise.But being there and doing the deed makes a difference.

Whatever the answer I have this to say. On my fourth day at the nunnery I was doing the usual rounds. Giving out grain etc when the granddaughter came up to me.

She grabbed my t-shirt and cried into it. I thought her granddad had passed away in the night but the reverse was true. She then stood up and hugged me. She ran off upstairs with me in tow holding my hand. Again I was not being asked.

The grandfather was sat up in bed.

She sat me down on the bottom corner of his bed and he gleamed at me. She offered tea I think. Alot of emotion was shared in that 15 mins and I got a cup of tea handed to me, in it all. The daughter was faffing about (or mother, for the bairn).

The grandfather was convinced I’d saved his life by the touch of my god.

Scientologists do not have one, but ok.

So was the daughter and granddaughter.

I checked his pulse/heart rate and temp and left them to it. Obviously a lovely family.

Gave the Granddad a wee quiet salute no one else noticed on the way out. As in well done, no just good job.

I’m none the wiser or able to say.

Other than I mind it to.

But I will say this, 3 days later about 11pm we were leaving the nunnery and he came up to me. Shoulders broad, having some swagger and grabbed my right shoulder with his right hand and my right hand with his left and said thanks. I never understood a single syllable of what he said but I totally understood what he was saying. The daughter and grandaughter were stood behind him and there was no mistaken the look in their eyes.

I was almost moved to tears.

I was, but I saved it to the end of my shift.

The grandaughters name was Angel Marie David.

The only other miracle I’ve witnessed is the birth of my wain.

Georgi.