2008 INDIA TRIP DIARY
April 30- May 15, 2008
John Teufel
India trip #1
Wednesday night April 30th, 2008 till Friday very
late
Uneventful 5 PM Continental Airlines bus ride (in
place of a plane) from Allentown to Newark. Cleared security in a breeze, bags
had already been checked through to Kolkata in Allentown, although they got
pulled in Delhi and had to be rechecked. Got a bulkhead seat with extra legroom
in 3 abreast seating with no one in middle seat. Spent out first hour taxiing
at Newark, but great flight after that. Was expecting their routing to be over
Africa but was fascinated to find out that it went up past Poughkeepsie on to
Newfoundland, Greenland, and northern tip of Sweden, over Arctic Circle and
then dropping down over Russia just past Moscow. Came down the Ural Mountains
in western Siberia to Afghanistan and Pakistan and then into Delhi. (can't go
over Iran) Boeing 777 had a constant
display screen of our route, speed (600+ MPH), etc.
As you may guess, I was fascinated and also
especially with my seatmate who owns (called Director) an auto parts
manufacturing business who was on his way back from Alabama having bought a
closed US plant's machinery for ten cents on a dollar. He is 42 years old (and
burned out) and wants to "cash out of his business." He "grew up
on American movies and culture" and provided fantastic insight into the
Hindu and Indian mindset. He made several insightful observations.
He said that America has lost its values and was
not competitive anymore in many ways. When I asked him about the Hindu faith
and its future in India, he said there was no problem because "no one
would leave its traditions except the extreme poor who are drawn to Christian
proselytizing as a way to survive. Could it be the "blessed are the poor in
Spirit for they will see God"?
Delhi was 101 degrees at 9 PM and relatively
unsophisticated for an international Capitol airport. Bottled water is about twenty five cents US
and I am sure I'll go through a lot.
There were scads of people everywhere but I never
felt unsafe because there were soldiers and police everywhere-some with machine
guns. I lost one of my customs slips and the soldier (one of about 15) asked me
about it and then waved me through without opening or checking anything anyhow.
They were all so excited with a Cricket event on TV (like super bowl) that they
were all in a good mood and excited. Seems like there is at least one
supervisor for every worker and almost "a need to create jobs" from
my observation. One security check point was closed all night till 4:30 AM and
still staffed with three soldiers chatting all night.
Linked up with 2 Indian girls from Penn State and
Ohio State who spoke Hindi and we took turns watching each other's bags for the
next ten hours in the domestic terminal about 16 km from the international
terminal. One had had her flight cancelled with none rescheduled with the India
Air calling her parents in the USA to tell them instead of her. (Glad I wasn't
that Father). Staying awake was a real chore but about 4:30 AM the terminal is
swarming with people and check-in started for the day.
Most interesting notes are the lack of western-style
toilets (hole in floor) in airport and the telephone attendants who keep track
of your call and charge you accordingly. Something is wrong when ATT wants
$3.00+/minute from USA to India and I called and talked to Natalie for 280 rupees
for about 20 minutes ($7 including attendants time and/or commission).
Flight left on time but delayed on runway at 6:30
AM. Airline was outstanding-Jet Airways. Bus takes you out to planes (about 30
all over tarmac) and you board with steps. Service was outstanding with four
dedicated attendants who start you with a moist towel, followed by juice and
breakfast, finalized with tea in a china cup. There were headsets and many
other amenities on a full but uneventful flight.
Diganta and his Brother Sagunta met me with a warm
welcome and a garland of sweet smelling fresh flowers. WOW! They had a sign in
the window "AIDS worker" and the police let them double park right in
front of the airport. Wonder if they questioned what AIDS work would be done in
the airport, but there seems to be a general respect for people here involved
in humanitarian work. The trip from the airport was amazing- like a demolition
derby with extra lanes of traffic created at will out of "nowhere" in
whichever direction you choose. Amazing, and no one killed or even hurt! The
sights were amazing- how can people live like this?
We stopped briefly at the Congress political party
(Hindu dominated) that was pictured in the original video with the sign on
outside (now gone and replaced with the party's name) telling of "free
food and medicine (sic).” Several female aids and children came out to stare at
me but returned a wave with a big grin. I asked Diganta about the number of
children who came each day and he said it varied depending if there was the
distraction of "fresh garbage to pick through" (something I saw over
and over).
We arrived at their "new" home a short
time later-on a small "alley type" street. We passed the Hindu fellow
who had persecuted Diganta in October over not giving to the Hindu festival
that went on all that month. He looked mean and had a "band" of followers
who gave us a funny (wrong word- opposite) look (just like an Allentown gang).
He lives in the neighborhood- no escaping. A big field was down the street with
cows "lounging" and people "hanging out" watching soccer,
etc.
The house was a pleasant surprise. It had thick
plaster walls about a foot thick and about 6 rooms on two floors with a small
closet-type office on the roof. I was escorted to my room on the second floor
and it was delightful- about 12 by 12... It included a large double bed under a
ceiling fan and fully screened windows with wooden shutters and heavy iron bars
over them. There was a touching personal
note, a bowl of fruit and crackers etc. along with a bottle of water and a
thermos of, what I think is tea.
Across the hall was a concrete bathroom with a
Western-style toilet complete with a roll of toilet paper. There was a small electric water heater
(about 5 gallons and probably not needed because the water was naturally quite
warm coming out of the tap) on the wall and all water went on to the floor with
a common drain. Quite adequate and the toilet quickly dissolved one of my
biggest fears- not being able to balance and falling when I tried to relieve
myself! God and Diganta's family made my fear unnecessary.
It was extremely hot but slightly cooler inside.
The sun is unmerciful! When we ventured out, Diganta and Sagunta hoisted an
umbrella and I was secretly grateful for "that stupid hat" Natalie
made me buy. I baked without it and it was so hot I am not sure not having to
wear long pants and a long sleeved shirt would have been any better.
.
It would
have been impossible to sleep so we went to visit a YWAM ministry run by a neat
fellow named Peter who had come with his "disciples" from another
region and had been here a matter of months.
They proudly showed me the new bathrooms and construction they had done
to provide housing for about 4-6 young ladies and 9 men. Except for the new
bathrooms, the accommodations were extremely Spartan. Everyone stared at me
shyly and I tried to remember to greet properly without touching but I just
felt like hugging them all-male and female (absolute "no no"). I was
fascinated with the huge coconut trees that were bordering the building within
"touching distance." Diganta was upset that they didn't have the
place cleaned up for me. I assume that's what the all the frustrated Hindi
meant but I was impressed. There were materials from Billy Graham and Rick
Warren that they passed out for a nominal fee in their outreach.
Diganta had a concerned look on his face and
finally confessed that a fellow Pastor had died during the night and was
scheduled to be buried in about ten minutes. (We were 40 minutes away.) I
immediately thought about Rick Campbell’s desire that someone be raised from
the dead while I was here and honestly, at that moment, seriously considered
whether he had prayed that request. I told Diganta that I was fine with going
to the service and burial and he left word to call ahead as we sped (?!?!)
through the Kolkata traffic with Sugunta driving like a maniac (I can't think
of another term) and Diganta putting on a fresh black shirt in the back seat
while we drove. (I still had black outfit I had dressed in 2 days before in
Allentown on with appropriate beard, etc.) We had quite a discussion about an
expensive "American funeral" with the painting of the person's face
etc. that Diganta had witnessed on his visit to the States. I knew this would
be just the opposite because the heat had become oppressive for a body even a
few hours old. My mind went wild but was open to whatever God had in store.
When we arrived at a small church on a crowded
alley, it was empty. We walked past a small" cemetery" to a spot
where about 6 men and boys were already sweating profusely from putting the
first shovels (more of a hoe-type 90 degree spade) of dirt on the corpse with a
crowd of onlookers silently witnessing an earth ritual that was so profoundly
simple that I couldn't gather my thoughts. One son was silently waiting to put
two flowered garlands, like I still had around my neck from my festive arrival,
on the mound. Diganta spoke what words he could find to him and I muttered a
few myself. It was over quickly and "life in Kolkata" went on with
only the addition of a new mound of water-smoothed mud and a simple cross to
show a major life event. We went to visit the widow in her cramped home and sat
on the bed that had held her husband's sick body hours before. I was concerned
for her future welfare but Diganta said, "The two sons would take care of
her until they had wives and things changed."
We returned to Diganta's home and they wanted to
feed me, but I had no appetite at all- just an exhausted, sweaty thirst. They
had bought me a cold "American Coke" and I drank my first Coke in a
long, long time. I finally went to bed after "days" (I think it was
Friday and I had little sleep since my bed in Schnecksville Tuesday night).
Even the fan didn't help, but it was wonderful to lay with the heated breeze
blowing over me. I even figured out how to power my CPAP sleep apnea machine
and slept fitfully till the power went out for about five minutes until Diganta
produced a backup generator. Now I understand why we always got cut off in our
internet contacts even though he has a high speed DSL connection. I got up,
shaved, and took a shower- what a treat even though the water heater wasn't even
needed.
Still no appetite or ability to eat (yes, me) and I
knew I bordered on offending. Soon we were off to the evening anniversary
service (first of three nights).There were over 100 people seated shoulder to
shoulder in a room about the size of the first floor of our Schnecksville home.
There was a small table top organ that you pump with your right hand and play
with your left. About 80-90% of the people were women with a few men and kids.
Diganta's daughter got over her shyness and sat on my lap-what a treat until I
was asked to stand and say "a few words." I felt like I was going to
need prayer to even stand up but finally was able to, with nothing to support
myself, as I stood in a crowd. What a treat to see God's love in the sea of big
dark eyes staring intently at me. I had to confess for some reason that I
sometimes had skipped church when there wasn't air-conditioning in the past and
they looked amazed and/or puzzled as it was translated. I talked for about ten
minutes, passed along your greetings from the Brothers and Sisters living
somewhere called America. I can't tell you how many times I repented in the
next several hours as the audience sat raptly hanging on every spoken Bengali
(or was it Hindi?) word and the Holy Spirit opened my soul.
At the end of the service people lined up in front
of me for prayer and I couldn't see anything for quite some time as tears mixed
with my simple prayers to a caring God. I felt so unworthy. I will never forget
the looks of faith in their eyes. I kept forgetting "to not touch-
especially women" but they seemed grateful and I just wanted to hug them
all. Diganta says there will be more people tomorrow night but I am not sure
how there could be. He also informed me that I was preaching Sunday and that he
would translate. I am glad I brought "a real Bible" along (not my
PDA) and know it will have to be God's spirit.
When we got home I went up on the roof and tried to
get an internet connection only to mess up Diganta's system or was the DSL down
now that the power was stable? I watch a GEICO gecko catch bugs and thank God I
have not had any mosquito exposure. Perhaps it is because Natalie sprayed all
my clothes before she neatly rolled them. (Wonder if the airport TSA
appreciated her efforts as much as I did although they didn't mention it on
their note that they had gone through my bag.) I want so badly to share with
Natalie and everyone back home but suspect that words will never properly
convey my heart and thoughts. Finally about eleven o'clock, I sat with the
family as they ate. (I still had zero appetite and was afraid that I would
throw up if I forced food.) I asked Diganta a lot of questions about his
ministry and am still trying to piece it all together. Went to bed after
midnight thinking about Diganta's comment about only having the kids Monday
through Friday and realizing that it was the weekend. Needless to say, I am now
up at my "normal" four AM to finish this and hope that the Holy
Spirit will give me a clue what I will preach in a day. I can hear people
talking just outside the window within ten feet as they walk somewhere and the
horns and barking have started for the day. A street vendor startled me “a few
feet behind me" with his cry for something (bread?) as he went down the
street. I am on the first floor several feet from the street so I can sit on
the only chair at a table to write-they sit on the floor like the disciples.
The heat has already started and I feel the first drops of sweat even though I
am under a fan. Oh, it's seven thirty-no wonder. Where did the time go? Must
get in bathroom before everyone stirs. What does God have in store today?
India #2 My first weekend continues to be exciting
with many new experiences. The Indian people are so hospitable that I am
amazed! It is especially so with my host family (which consists of 3 families
living together) who were all trained by Youth with a Mission in the gift of
hospitality for "Men of God." I am shown great respect by total
strangers and except for a few glares from some young men while walking through
areas with a lot of communist graffiti, am amazed at the warmth and shy desire
to please me. Yesterday I was out in the sun (with my hat, Natalie) waiting for
someone and a barber (there were few clues what he did other than a pair of scissors
and a razor) had me come and sit in his chair while he found an old fan to plug
in to cool me.
My host family eats communally on mats on the floor
using no utensils other than their right hand. (Left used for other things!)
Meal time is a joyous occasion with what seems to me (yes, me, with my huge US
appetite!) to be huge amounts of food. I love the food but still have zero
appetite since I came which concerns them greatly. I try not to offend but feel
so full that I am concerned that I would get sick by eating more than a bit.
Perhaps it is the heat or some new pills; I am not sure. They make sure a fan
is set up everywhere I go and have a chair (after watching me try to get up a
few times.)
I was expecting a one room house (which a friend
stayed in with these 3 families) but was thrilled to find 6 rooms and two
bathrooms tucked on what to us would be an alley. They have an Indian made jeep-like
diesel car and a Honda motorcycle. They really perform magic parking the car in
the street which I think of as an alley. The women walk to market (to get me
Coke which they are sure I need or bottled water) and the little two-year-old
girl goes to school with her mother on a bicycle-powered rickshaw connecting to
what I would call a subway. I haven't seen this density of people since the
Philippines, Japan, Vietnam, and Bangkok many years ago.
My room is spacious with a double bed and a night
stand and a ceiling fan overhead. They provided me with a small "dollar
type" pad lock so I would feel that my stuff is secure when I left; which
I used once at their insistence. I have a cement bathroom with a western-style
toilet and a shower pretty much all to myself. (There is a group of 21 coming
from Harrisburg next month that will be living on mats in the church.) The
street is within 6 feet of me as I type and it is strange hearing all the
morning sounds through the curtains (and bars) right behind me. I feel totally
safe without any reservations; even walking through strange dark places on the
way to church. I have not been bothered by any mosquitoes although the Indians
slap mosquitoes occasionally. I help put up Velcro fabric mosquito netting on
the church windows and doors one day. (4 feet of the ceiling is open!)
I don't see nearly the amount of cows that I expected
although I discovered one licking a new calf yesterday about 100 yards away.
There are a lot of scrawny dogs (which often lie in the street and survive!),
some goats, some ducks and chicken, and one emaciated cat that caught my eye
yesterday.
The ministry has two what I would consider
churches-one owned and one rented. Land is extremely valuable even though the
churches are in a very poor area. One of the churches is a school of ministry
with about 15 full-time students who live there; communally cooking, sleeping
on mats, etc. I happened to walk up Saturday on about ten of them in a room of
the church that was like an oven and heard the most angelic praise and worship
from the students, sitting shoulder to shoulder on a mat, oblivious to anything
but God. They make things out of straw and coconuts to support themselves; such
as cards and brooms. They had nothing to serve me, so one of the 30 foot
coconut trees, several feet from the church, sacrificed a coconut so I could be
served fresh coconut milk.
The students are amazing and I have been honored to
be in their presence and have them shyly ask me to pray for them. As I
mentioned, they have roots in an organization called YWAM who teaches them how
to be supported individually by faith just like one of my favorite passages in
my "Bible"- the Message.
Title: The Message: The Bible in Contemporary
Language
Edition: Third
Copyright: © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights
reserved. Electronic Edition STEP Files Copyright © 2003, Quick Verse, a
division of Findex.com, Inc.
Matthew 10:5-15 (TMSG) 5Jesus sent his twelve
harvest hands out with this charge:
"Don't begin by traveling to some far-off
place to convert unbelievers. And don't try to be dramatic by tackling some
public enemy. 6Go to the lost confused
people right here in the neighborhood.
7Tell them that the kingdom is here.
8Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick
out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously.
9"Don't think you have to put on a fund-raising
campaign before you start. 10You don't
need a lot of equipment. You are the equipment, and all you need to keep that
going is three meals a day. Travel light.”
I can't seem to capture the traffic in pictures or
by words. Kamikaze-style is the only description. The street are like our
alleys with bicycle rickshaws, pedicabs, dogs, and huge 2 ½ trucks and busses
fighting for the same right away. I have yet to see any accidents although you
drive with your rear-view mirrors folded in! Bicycle pedal powered
"trucks" haul everything, from 10 propane tanks to steel beams and
live chickens. The drivers are never overweight!
I have been blessed beyond description by the sea
of big brown hungry eyes that gaze up at me shyly and expectantly when I talk.
It is very humbling! Diganta is amazing when he is ministering and the power of
God is unmistakable. Last night a lady brought some eggs for the students when
the offering was taken and two other ladies who found work cleaning houses
brought bars of soap and some toothpaste with the few Rupees they earned. (The
only offering I have seen since I was here and no noticeable currency in
offering- all coins.) The four foot of the roof that was missing and covered by
plastic blew off with an unexpected storm during ministry and at the same time the
power went off last night. Those being prayed for seemed oblivious to the
drenching. What a lesson!
I am excited for what today will bring. I will be
with the street kids giving out pencils. Not to be melodramatic, but Diganta
says there may be less than normal if there is fresh garbage to search for
"treasures." Got to go-people are stirring and I am in the middle of
their eating area. Thanks for your prayers that made this all possible for me.
India #3
What a day! I won't be able to describe this day
even with the seemingly hundreds of pictures I took. The day was a very well
planned and orchestrated just for me. I loaded the pencils, etc. that had been
so graciously donated to me by one of my favorite suppliers (who I bought
little from -sadly to say.) It was the extra 21 pounds in my luggage that caused
me to have to borrow a bigger suitcase!
We started at the church (which is perhaps
misleading because of the many uses of this simple building- now a school and
later other uses) and a small hot room of wonderful students of every faith
from the neighborhood. All of our shoes were outside with some size14’s
dwarfing everything else. The floor area was covered with mats and "wall
to wall" students smartly attired in blue and white uniforms and big
curious eyes. They welcomed me with songs and "Welcome Uncle" and a
big garland of bright orange flowers. (The first of 3 that day.) What a treat
and it was co-ordinated so that I could serve them lunch. They politely lined
up patiently for me to give them each a gift of a pencil and a balloon. The
staff were the same people who had been with me in church and were about 50%
Youth with a Mission students serving their outreach time. There was no
question that they loved these kids and the kids were living proof of their
love.
It was lunch time (Lunch time at all three places I
visited that day no matter what the time!) and I got to serve tin plates of
lunch. The children sat patiently on their mats waiting for the rice and stew-type
gravy which they mixed and ate with their right hands. When they were done, tin
cups of water were passed out and each washed their hands with a pitcher.
I then said goodbye and it was off to the next
school-this time in a poor neighborhood sandwiched between pockets of Hindu and
Moslem families. It was more of the same (smart uniforms, lessons, etc) except
it was in a rented thatched-walled facility down a path in a poorer area. I
couldn't get enough and one more time the simple gifts were special treats- no
fighting over color, etc. (It was the same with adults when I passed out
Indian/ American hat pins.) There are reasons beyond needs to be in poor
neighborhoods. Often landlords won't rent after a short period to “missionaries"
who specialize in AIDS because of the people who come. AIDS is everywhere,
largely because of the "secret sex" trade that many women conduct
very privately in their neighborhoods to feed their families. Many of the mothers
were curiously lined up to stare at me outside the building when I left. I guess there is no hope for someone my size
to go unnoticed when you are eye-level sitting down, on the one chair that mysteriously
shows up in any room I visit!
The visit to the last school was the reason I
haven't been able to sleep all night even though the sun will soon be up. This
school was one that I wasn't permitted to take my shoes off because of safety
and the “clean” mats on the floor had without exaggeration 20 flies per square
foot. It is a "Congress (Hindu) Party" political party building where
the rough porch-type area is used to school street kids. I have seen videos of
this site but I didn't realize the school was 50-75 feet from a major garbage
dump area. Amazingly, that is what drew the kids to the school as they scavenged
through garbage to survive. The kids were obviously "different"- the
same difference you sense between wild and tame animals-without belittling
them. You sense their instincts are tuned for survival with a certain sense of
sad fate except for one young fellow with many missing teeth. He grinned
constantly at me and I didn't want to laugh, but his donated pants held up with
a rubber band kept coming off-oblivious to him! (They are buying red and white
checked material to make uniforms whenever possible in the future.) They didn't
tell me until I left that the young boy of possibly age three or four (age is
difficult here in India for me) would be the next to dies soon of AIDS. I asked
what would happen when he died and they said that his body would end up on the
garbage next door- possibly in some sort of a bag. I asked if AIDS had ever
been healed and they said "not to their knowledge"- there is no hope.
Some of these children live in squatter shacks but
one sadly pretty young adolescent girl lives on the street. She has to be very
wary as she sleeps because roving Police patrols consider her fair game for
rape. Most of these kids are orphans now or will be soon. Their mothers go as
long as possible and then one day "are no more." I don't know what
these kids have seen and heard, but it must be horrible. When I ignorantly
asked how you can have prostitution where there are no buildings, the answer
was "a salvaged piece of plastic." There is no privacy in this
culture compared to our standards and people are oblivious of folks openly
relieving themselves in the street.
There is a bright side-I met one wonderful young
lady on staff who "graduated" out of these circumstances to come back
to help on staff. Also I went to look at a piece of property with Diganta to
pursue one of his dreams-an orphanage for these kids. It was very expensive and
not much of a property because it would be flooded by this time next month and
every year afterwards. However, since no one wants Christians bringing these
"wild AIDS kids" to their neighborhoods, it may be the best possible
scenario.
As I left the school, things had to be finished for
the day. My last glimpse was seeing the kids grinning at me while searching new
garbage with one hand and their new pencil and balloon in the other. I wonder what
their night was like and what today will bring and question after question. (All
the Bible scriptures about children to mind- seemingly all at the same time.)
Note: Please don't feel compelled to send money- I
have tried to keep this "toned down" so that it doesn't create a
situation for those reading it. It just "is what it is" and I can't
coat what I saw without being deceptive, but this isn't a "tear jerk"
sales pitch.
The next stop was fascinating! As twilight
approached, we went back to 'the church" which was now "a
factory" to provide support for women who may only be able provide by
being part of "the secret neighborhood sex trade." There were four
sewing machines set up. One was operated by a shy young lady who had been married
for three months and beaten every day like her mother before her, until her husband
divorced her. When she couldn't take it anymore and tried to go back to her
father's house, he told her-only if she brought money. (see above) She came to
the ministry for help and said that she would commit suicide if they wouldn't
help. (Not money- food and a place to sleep.) Divorce is “suicide justification”
in this society. They found a spot for her although it was created. To watch
her peacefully sewing, you would never know. I had prayed for her the previous
evening in church without a clue to her background.
I watched as ladies made "something out of
nothing" for support. There were greeting cards with hand-glued straw
designs and numerous sewn items. (One was a Moslem lady). Diganta is "the
George Washington Carver” of coconuts! There are about five or six coconut
trees within ten feet of the "church- school- factory” housing unit. He
has the girls make everything from brooms, to candy, to coconut oil, to door mats,
to rope, and on and on out of the coconuts and the branches, etc. This will
hopefully provide them jobs the way he had seen in a dream many years ago. It
was amazing to see all this even though it was staged for my benefit . (There
weren't enough ripe coconuts!) His dream is for land with two hundred trees and
three hundred people. (Tens of thousands of dollars in cost and 2 ½ years to
grow.) I love being associated with folks that are "dreamers and
visionaries.” Life is never dull around them!
Indian people are so hospitable; strangers would
offer to set up a chair (when they have one) and let me come in out of the heat
and possibly proudly turn an old electric fan on me if they have one (or
manually fan me with a coconut leaf if they don't.) There are mixed feeling
about Americans because of a largely communist influence. The headlines in the
newspapers told how "Bush blamed the world food shortage on India"
even though in context I think he meant that the higher standard of living here
has caused a shortage (which they deny and can "prove".)
Indians seem to live a rather stress-free life
(except for Diganta who provides basic needs for an unpaid family/staff of 22
along with the kids.) There is a certain sense of accepting “your lot in
life" that I guess comes from the Hindu background. I wonder what their
culture was like before the British and Westerners "tried to remake them
to be westerners" and decide what was right.
Sorry for getting off topic!
The final part of my day was setting up a generator
and screen among some coconut trees in a government-owned park, up a twisty
trail-like road. The setting was "right out of the movies" with the
night sky silhouetting the coconut trees and the small thatched houses of a
neighborhood. An Indian remake of the "Jesus” film" on DVD with the
sound cranked up to make any teen ager or Brooklyn street preacher proud! It
was just like America-all the Christians sat together in front of the screen (in
spite of Diganta's urging otherwise.) I enjoyed slipping to the back in the
shadows to be with the people on the fringes, the way my friend Carl would. A
pedicab from the Communist party, with loudspeakers blaring, came by slowly
right after the film started but never came back. Many of the people were the
parents of the children I had just been with down the road, earlier in the day.
There is no "American rush to convert folks to salvation"- that work
is done in and through the love, jobs, and friendships provided over time.
(Like Jesus and the Disciples maybe!)
People are up now and what should I say to their
customary "Did you sleep well?" (I told them "no" and they
were quite alarmed but there was no way to hedge without lying.)
I will never
forget yesterday. Enough for now- the heat is here and I am tired from reliving
my day and a sleepless night
India #4
Another interesting day! Guess they all are.
Watched ladies making greeting cards out of straw
and talked to neighborhood folks for a while.
Also went to look at property but the owner
wouldn't take responsibility for the political situation in the neighborhood.
(Communist and growing) It would be risky to purchase. Spent a lot of time in
the hot sun "in a swampy area" which he assured us he'd fill in. I
suggested a trial lease purchase if they could put a deal together but they had
never heard of anything like that. However, after a long time, the owner agreed
in principal to try it-no mention of price yet but a big piece of property
(100x500ft) underwater often every June but there is a reservoir scheduled to
relieve that. I am amazed at all the "hats" Diganta wears and how
well he does it.
This evening was a Jesus film showing. Have to make
multiple trips to get everything there and permission is needed by the Area
President. They dropped me off to go set up but there was a problem and
permission wasn't granted. Went to a quick "plan B" and lo and behold
got permission to show it 15 feet in front of a Mosque. Interesting! Will show
pictures when I come home. Drew a pretty good crowd but we turned the sound way
down when Moslems went to prayer at 8 PM. One gentleman discussed the situation
with me and informed me that this was a Mosque, etc. We discussed Jesus being a
great Prophet and he agreed that there would be little harm in “these” people
watching "because they were low class." Class is everything and I am
starting to understand "the least of these my Brethren, etc.” Amazingly,
they pulled up a bench for me to sit on and bought me some Sprite (Hindus, not
the Moslems) and we had a very interesting discussion. The Area President and a
big landlord sat with me and I gave them both American/Indian flag hatpins
(which all their people wanted too.) I had difficulty understanding the Area
Mayor (who controls everything in area) but he left and came back with his own
personal copy of the Jesus film. Wanted to show me on the label where it said
in Bengali that “Jesus died for our sins."
Didn't understand anything else but was blown away! He invited me to his
home for tea but we were ready to leave so we made it "next time"! (I
am learning the Indian way of not saying "No." Now if I could figure
out how to keep them from bringing me all those sugared sodas. I’m scared to
check my glucose!)
It was two years ago, almost to the day, in DCFI
school that I had a hint that India may replace my long awaited trip to the
Holy Land.
God is alive and very, very well in India! (I am
increasingly tired as the heat slowly subsides.)
India trip #5
Time loses it hold on you in India. There are faint
streetlights shining through the curtains so it is hard to tell day from night.
There is activity day and night. From the rooftop I can see the twinkle of TV’s
throughout the neighborhood late into the night. Traffic never stops and I have
no clue what day it is or what my Outlook calendar (or wife) says I am to do
today. The Indian people have copied punctuality standards from some African
countries, I think (or vice versa)! Nothing is on time in spite of what I am
sure were the British Empire’s best efforts.
Yesterday seemed like a day filled with endless
questions. The folks I have prayed with or had contact with seemed to overcome
their initial shyness and now are full of questions- slowly at first and then
an endless stream. Most call me "Uncle" and it is "Uncle, may I
please ask you a question?" Their questions are quite simple- these are
simple "down home" people for the most part. (If they are not, they
let me know "that they are not like them.") Many want to practice
their English.
It is the answers to these simple questions that
are so difficult. How would you answer "Uncle, everyone in America loves
Jesus-Yes?" The phrasing of the question is appropriate because they
expect an affirming “yes” answer. They get totally flustered when I can't
truthfully answer “yes.” It never crossed their mind the struggle I have to go
through to be truthful and yet affirming of my culture, and that my beliefs are
not universal. One countered with "But Uncle, it says ‘In God we trust’ on
your currency" to help me out of my dilemma. As you know, that made
matters worse. The questions go on and on. Perhaps they'll never know that my
answers hurt me more than them and they are very uncomfortable for me having to
make some of my admissions. I am quite relieved to figure out how many
kilometers I live from a relative in Los Angeles for them.
A sampling of the questions I faced: "But
Uncle, your family all sits together on the roof at night to talk and pray? Why
are your children not with you? Everyone in America treats their elders with
respect, right Uncle? (This was not in any way connected to questions about my
children.) But Uncle, all your friends know Jesus, Yes? Why do you not trust
someone to pick God's choice of a wife? How much does it cost to call (on cell
phone) in America? Why so much? (Wish I could answer that too!) Why do you
‘paint’ dead people instead of burying them promptly? Do you live in the
mountains? (How do you compare Blue Mountain to the Himalayas?) Why is your
wife not here Uncle? Will she come next time? Why do you like Indian people?
Why does your Mother not live with you? Do you take care of her? Does she not
miss you?”
The questions go on and on. I wish there were
simple packaged answers to these and many questions. I am starting to get a
similar uncomfortable "gut anticipation" (perhaps based on what I
experienced not "fitting in" returning from Viet Nam) that I will
never be able to begin to effectively be understood. It must be how deaf/mutes
feel-in a world of their own with no way to be understood. I feel like I have a
foot in two different worlds and it is very uncomfortable and yet I know I have
to be "normal" again soon no matter what it takes. My senses are "on overload" and
many things that I am experiencing trigger memories that I “stuffed" forty
years ago coming back from Asia...
I just have to remind myself that this is a new
time in my life and there is a purpose and hope (and relationships) I didn't
have before. Sorry for my digression but as you can tell this trip is very
meaningful. I just had no idea it would hit so painfully and deeply to parts of
me that haven't been exposed for a long time.
It's a great day even with the steamy heat and
murky thoughts, and I look forward to tomorrow and whatever else is in store.
India #6
Another eventful morning!
It started by taking Diganta's wife Leena and daughter,
two-year-old Sneha to the Metro subway station to go to school. Don't know much
about the school but know she speaks French, English, and Bengali for a start!
Got in a bit of trouble because no photographs are allowed there. The two
relaxed chatting policemen sure came to life! Diganta had quite an animated
conversation in Bengali and all returned to normal. I said,
"Namaskar" to them with the traditional bow with folded prayer-like
hands and was forgiven. (I think, but didn't stick around!). Security is quite
high in some areas.
We stopped by the school for street kids next to
the garbage dump for another quick visit and to pass out pencils. They are
quite animated in their singing and it was a treat to see their beaming faces
as they sang. Several of the kids who were there yesterday weren't there and
there were some new kids there. I was relieved to see my friend labeled
"near dying" there again today. Don't know what I would have done if
he wasn't. The kids have learned that they can see the pictures I take so they
"mob” me each time I click a shot.
We then went to another area of the city where the
main Kali temple, Mother Theresa's Sisters of Charity and the main red light district
are within hundreds of yards of each other. Diganta cautioned me to look
straight ahead and not to take pictures at the Kali shrine. Kali is the goddess
of death and destruction and is the motivation for many Hindu believers to give
money or else! Priests came up to me and demanded money (now I understand what
Diganta was faced with last October.) There is heavy demonic power presence in
that area and the threats are not to be taken lightly. I didn't get much of a
look and hurried by. The filthy River Ganges is there next door and it looks
like a big heavily polluted stream with flowers from the faithful floating
downstream from the temple. I believe this is where many come to die.
Right next door is Mother Theresa's Sisters of
Charity home. I was able to go though all areas including the women's area
because Diganta knows some people there. However, no photos were allowed or
appropriate with the condition of the people. I don't need pictures- those
sights will forever be imprinted in my mind. About half of the volunteers were
"civilian" Westerners with one lady I spoke to from Paris and many
from Europe. They were lovingly feeding breakfast to folks- most of us wouldn't
get within ten feet of. Signs were posted that most people had TB and various
other ailment and most were extremely emaciated. One offered me a drink out of
her cup and was quickly stopped, but I was quite touched.
The men's area consisted of 54 narrow beds on 4 stepped levels in a
small room with the most terminal on the bottom row for accessibility. (Far
less women.) Many of them couldn't eat their food of bread, jelly (?), and a
cup of water and needed bed pans because they couldn't get up. There were
various signs on the wall with directions on how to handle various sores and
fluid discharges. I have never seen such love as those caring for these folks.
Very humbling! I was amazed to see they have branches all over the world
including Chester and Norristown, PA. The scriptures posted on the wall were
all very familiar to me, but oh, the meaning they have now!
As I gazed out over the city from the roof, what a
sight! The evil demonic Kali Temple
almost touching on one side and the red light district across a branch of the
Ganges on the other. Nowhere have I seen the forces of good and evil so real.
Death and destruction were everywhere! You could feel it! I am so thankful that
we have a God of life!
We walked through the red light district which
doubles as an open air market in the front. This is quite different than the
secret sex trade of prostitution that I've mentioned before. That is more of a
"home business." This is wholesale trade openly displayed and
merchandised. The most desirable women are light-skinned Nepalese women with
what I would consider to be "Mongolian slanted eyed" features. Most
were sleeping, after dawn finally signals that "their shift was over."
Their merchandise was replaced by ladies selling flowers and luscious
vegetables. I walked over to a bridge over the Ganges and stood looking at the
filth that was the "River of Life" to these people. The hopeful were
a few hundred yards upstream bathing in this filth and wishfully releasing
beautiful orange flowers. The water looked almost black and highlighted the
orange flowers released upstream, almost like a vivid high-definition TV
picture. I read that the Ganges is in danger of drying up because the glacier
that feeds it is rapidly disappearing. What will the faithful do then? Thanks
for a river of life that is never in danger of drying up. I guess I sound like
a broken record but one more time, "I'll never be the same after today."
I miss you all (and your weather!)
India #7
It's 3 AM (my computer still set for Schnecksville
time says 6:09 PM the previous night) and according to my pill box, it is
Thursday. My host family is amazed, but politely declines to make comments
about my pills, shots, and especially my CPAP breathing machine that I lugged
here for my sleep apnea. (Yes, it works on 220 volts, thank heavens!) They go
to the local markets, but fulfill their food needs with what looks like a 100
pounds of rice when they go to the village for the equivalent of $30. It lasts
6 months along with a 5 gallon container of popped rice that costs $.75. I
don't mean to paint an inaccurate picture- they're not "bumbling country
bumpkins" living in the jungle and they do have many big needs like we do.
(I filled their diesel in their ministry vehicle the other day for thousands of
Rupees.) It's just that they perceive that they have different (and less) needs
than I do, and they seem much more easily filled. They have high speed DSL
internet at 100mbps (which is as fast as mine) but may not have power to use
it. They seldom answer their phone because it is on the third floor on the roof
with the computer and no one hears it. Besides, everyone in India can be reached
by their cell phone!
The family lives communally; with two brothers and
their wives; and their sister sharing their home and responsibility for a soon
to be three-year-old little daughter. Although they admit to some occasional
tension, I got a glimpse that not everything goes as desired among their staff,
life is amazingly harmonious and respectful. They sincerely like and desire
each other's company and love to enjoy chatting on the roof in the evening
after being together in ministry all day. Sounds like Acts; in fact they even
at one point sold a family field for the ministry.
My description of the Kali Temple and Mother
Theresa’s yesterday was a bit incomplete. I was in just one of many facilities
that her ministry has in Kolkata and worldwide-not the main one, but the first
one. They only deal with the dying not the sick- just making them comfortable
and giving last rights to those who don't understand. Hospitals dump their
dying here and there is controversy that the general poor and sick aren't
helped. There are multiple Kali Temples, but the one I referred to was the
biggest. I missed seeing the faithful drinking "one last drink from the
Ganges River" before they die and the funeral pyres because I was so
intent on getting by the demanding Priests and pickpockets going by the Temple.
Diganta showed me a newspaper with two articles last night. One showed pictures
and told how they can't stop the Priests dancing with human heads in the Kali
Temple and mothers throwing their children under their feet. The other article
told how 9 Christians had "reconverted" back to their Hindu faith
claiming they were duped and reregistering with the local officials accordingly.
I tried to be a good husband by doing some shopping
yesterday (which I hate.) It was a disaster! First the shopping area is like
the most crowded areas of New York squeezed together with three times more
people. When I tried to follow the guideline in my tourist guidebook, what I
thought was a "sure thing” and turned out to be an exclusive wedding Sari
shop that sold nothing else. I then went for the alternative "plan B"
marked in the book and followed it to the letter. I knew something was wrong
when they sent out to buy a cold drink for me and produced 4 velvet-covered
fancy wooden boxes that looked like they came from an exclusive jewelry shop.
Six people crowded around to watch as they hoped this American dressed in
"early Wal-Mart" was going to buy one of those unbelievable Kashmir
woolen shawls valued at 50,000 Rupees each. (many hundreds of dollars) I was
overwhelmed and even tried to call Natalie to no avail at home and on her cell
phone even though it was 5 AM. Escaping that place even to face rush hour
traffic was a relief! By the way, a side note, I have yet to see a female
driver among the many thousands I have seen including the human-powered
rickshaws drivers!
Last night we sat on the roof and Diganta shared
his ministry with me and the vision he has for it. He supports twenty two people
who help him. (No salaries-just their needs supplied.) He told me how YWAM in
Toronto where he went to school (along with Hilo ,HA) had offered him full room
and board plus $100/ week (a lot then to an Indian raised in a farming village)
to stay and work there quite a few years
ago and that he turned it down knowing God wanted him back in Kolkata. I went
through his registrations and records and was amazed how God has blessed.
However, I was even more amazed at his faith for God to provide; for him, debt
isn't an option. My mind raced as to how that orphanage would happen, but he
didn't seem to be the least concerned. "That God in His timing would
provide" to make it happen for battered women and street children. He has plans drawn and has had for a year. He
went out last night to negotiate on land that he has "no possible” way of
paying for. Even though he has made himself accountable to an Assembly of God
and a Baptist and another type of Pastor, Christian ministries don't seem
inclined to help each other-especially those who aren't part of them. He
returned most of my business/ financial questions with a blank look and "I
don't understand, I am just a simple man trying to do what God told me to do."
Is there anything else? (Once again, this not a "tear jerk" appeal
for money-I am just sharing my head and my heart.)
I have to get into the shower- we have to leave at
six AM to go get permission to show the Jesus film again tonight. Been turned
down twice "in good neighborhoods"-only possible in poor areas.
India #8
A fascinating day! (need to find better variety of
descriptive words-need Natalie here to help with more than proof reading!)
The day started with a trip about an hour out of
Kolkata through an area with progressively more and more Communist propaganda
as we traveled. (No alarm, there is an election next week and they are the
dominate political party, especially among the poor.) Diganta tries to do one
"Power" seminar a month and wanted to find a place to have one to
replace one that was cancelled due to pressure on the landlord. (Oh, do I need
Natalie with these sentences.) We found a place that was owned by a Christian
but it was a brick area of about 12X24 with a dirty cement floor and little
ventilation. Even at that morning hour the heat was stifling and my "fresh
shirt" was soaked just going in to look at the room. Diganta asked what I
thought. I tried to carefully relay
"the obvious" without offending. I asked how many people he expected
(within 36 hours and "unannounced") and how people could sit in here
for four hours at a stretch. He said, "Oh, about 100 or more and it you
have it, the word will spread through the village and they will come." His
only concern was room for some of the more demonstrative parts of his seminar.
Guess I am not used "to counting on God to fill the place" quite like
he is. Am counting on God to help me make it through personally the
seminar-back, knee, and kidney wise! Such Godly concerns!
We then left to visit Diganta's brother Sukanta's
in-laws home area that comes straight out of the movies. We started by stopping
at a small village open-air market because, to use what seems like Diganta's
most used phrase, "he was very hungry." I wandered around while he
and Sukanta ate and I was thoroughly enamored. The vegetables and fruit were
hours old and a sight to behold. Such beauty and variety. However it was the
poultry and seafood that kept drawing my attention. Bengalis are close to the
Sea of Bengal and very devoted to their fish and prawns. This was about noon
with no visible refrigeration and it made me glad to be a vegetarian. The
poultry were all fresh and “on demand." Both the people at the poultry and
fruit stands use a curved razor sharp knife (like a sickle) that they mount on
a board facing away from them to cut by drawing the item to be cut toward them.
I won't go into details other than to say in all my years of restaurant work,
I've never seen a chicken totally skinned in less than 2 minutes. These were
simple villagers and once we made eye contact; they smiled shyly, for the most
part. I am pretty sure I could tell which ones were "party officials"
because theirs was a totally different look. Anyhow, after many, many pictures
and memories, we soon got back on what increasingly seemed less and less like a
road.
We soon were driving on barely car-width paths over
what I would call dikes among ponds and dry rice paddies. I kept wondering how
we could get our suspension replaced when (not if!) necessary! It was amazing
to see the people laboring in the blazing sun separating the rice from the
stalks almost like wheat from chaff. The rainy season is approaching and it
will be time for theses parched fields to yield the staple of this society for
another season.
We eventually found the only place wide enough to
park, possibly in this whole region, and started down a foot path through
banana trees and lush vegetation. Along the way, we met Father Thomas on his
motor scooter and had a pleasant chat. (He had married Sukanta and his wife
several years before.) There were ponds on either side of us and I knew there
were a lot of feeding fish because of the hundreds of dimples in the water.
What a treat as I walked back the path over a bamboo pole "bridge” into
another time and place! Sukanta's father-in-law was sixty-plus years old and dressed
in a simple bath towel-like cloth wrapped around his waist and a twenty-year-old's
body. (Abs and all!) It was obvious that he was a “working man" as he
climbed out of the pond where he had been working. He quickly took his machete
and prepared a feast of melons and fresh off-the-tree bananas. His wife was
washing clothes, and she shyly, and three goats eagerly, greeted us. (Actually
the goats for the melons which were shared with them)! He proudly showed me two large sows and a
container with 11 piglets born three days before. There was an older lady
sitting on her heels cooking over a small wood fire under a lean-to style
structure. She obviously was the senior person and one of the few graying
Indians I've seen. But I was amazed to find out that it was his 94 year-old mother
who had been up working since her 4 AM prayers. Oh, to be that limber and
energetic! She prepared two fried eggs
for me to go with the fruit and I sat down for a feast. Their home was simple
but very functional. There was a small second "home" with a bed out
between the sow pens so that someone could sleep there when there was danger of
the sows being stolen. The main home was concrete and completely open-no doors
or windows on the outside with about a ten foot overhang of roof. The cooking
and food area was across the courtyard in a separate building and lean-to type
structure. There were some ducks caged by one of the ponds and it was very
evident that this self sustained life produced a serenity that would produce
millions of dollars if it could be packaged. Soon two daughters and a 9
month-old grandson appeared along with a sister. I was asked to pray for the
child because "he was having fits and spells.” I am still amazed at the
extended sense of family in India and how they thrive on being together so
much. I was given a tour to view their supply of coconuts, rice, and raw cotton
on the second floor of their home. They don't need to store fruits, vegetables,
or fish because they are “on demand" for the taking!
We then walked down into a dry rice field where
rice stalks were being hand thrashed. What hot dusty work! Recent rains, a
precursor to what was coming soon, had already softened the cracked earth and
tiny shoots were appearing in some fields. I felt like I felt when I watched
the Lion King; watching this whole "circle of life" unfold around me.
As we left, we were loaded with as much food as we
could carry to take back to Diganta's family. His family was in the rice
business and it was almost like dining on the Truckenmiller (Natalie's family)
farm in days of old- food, food, and more food! Now I see how they eat so much
for so little.
The only disturbing part of the whole visit was
when, as we were leaving, Sukanta's father-in-law proudly show me where he had
killed a large poisonous snake as he came out of one of these ponds. I am glad
the it was at the end of our visit. Made me respect Diganta even more for the
number of times he has climbed into ponds like these to baptize people
"out in the country."
Our trip home was relatively uneventful and all
four wheels survived! We stopped at a local printer to prepare handbills for
tonight's seminar and they promised to have them printed by 8 AM for
distribution, for about $5. There were 4 people in the shop, which was amazing.
All ledgers are by hand, like in a Dickens’s movie, and all typesetting is
picked out of big trays with amazing speed and wrapped in binder twine when
finished. Jobs are so valued in India that you "always split one at least
three ways" and this was no exception!
My evening consisted of going to two different neighborhood
children's programs-one in the "church" and one in a home rented to
house staff-and conduct Bible studies. I love these kids! Even though this may
have been possibly staged for my benefit, it was amazing to see what God does
in these kids. One young man "was a piece of work," always pushing
the envelope. I fell in love with his
high spirit and obvious potential. He was a real "ham" and was the
star of a skit they put on for me. Even though I couldn't understand the words,
it was obvious that he was demonstratively picking bugs and/or lice (sin) off
another kid in their play. What a delight! At the end they told me that those
authorities had just jailed his father (a gang leader) for multiple murders. I
passed out more of the pencils and die cast cars as the children waited
patiently and shyly. I tried needlessly to give appropriate colors, but it
wasn't even remotely necessary for this "clientele."
They asked me to talk to the children and to greet
them on behalf of all of you. I will never forget those eyes (and hearts) as
they hung on every word and wondered where America was. As requested, I prayed
for the kids and gave a blessing before they disappeared into the night. It was
hard to let them go when it was done. I watched them and their pencils for as
long as possible and then again as I went by some of their homes in the car as
I was leaving. They were waiting and waving!
There are mostly people who resist Jesus in these
neighborhoods and the staff and YWAM folks tried to pass out literature to
folks as we left with little success. I suggested that we try left over pencils
for children who weren't to the program and everyone seemed puzzled. "Why
give to people who didn't attend?" (even in India!) I told them that I'd
learned a long time ago personally "that children and gifts were the
key" to parents. The amazing thing is that this ministry is so effective
but has some familiar mindsets. They promised they'd try walking the
neighborhoods "two by two" passing out pencils till they are gone and
then maybe balloons (Maybe imprinted later-my mind keeps going!)
We had a huge storm and there was flooding
everywhere. The taxi stands were lined up for literally ½ mile and traffic was
snarled with many flooded cars and motorbikes everywhere. There was water
everywhere and I am glad I won't be here for "the rainy season"- bad
memories. I've been missing pictures of the human-powered rickshaws every time
they flash by in traffic. I finally found one stopped under the metro downtown
and hopped out to get a firsthand look as he loaded a merchant's goods for
transport. With the difficultly he had hoisting the bundles up onto his head to
load unto his rickshaw, I would say they each weighed 75 plus pounds and he
loaded about 8 of them. The frame of the rickshaw bent noticeably, but soon he
was off running down the street at a rapid pace (similar to a horse at a trot.)
National geographic had featured an article on the people recently and said
that Kolkata was the last place that they are known to exist because they have
no other possible employment. The man looked Nepalese to me and I am assuming
is the male counterpart to the ladies in the red light district. Diganta wanted
to know if I wanted a ride on one after he finally found a way to retrieve me
from traffic. I said, "No, thank you. I just wanted to observe." I
would have felt abusive and guilty but didn't tell him that.
On the way home we stopped (pulled over) next to a
shanty town of squatters. (I think Mongolian). It was not prudent to get out of
the car (in my opinion) in this mess of squalor and cardboard. However on one
end we spotted three unidentified slight figures squatting, huddled together
under a concrete overhang with their garments opened only enough to see. Amazingly,
they all sprang to their feet and ran to the window of the car. They were too
small to be a threat so I rolled down the window to a greeting of "Good
evening, Uncle." It was the young adolescent girl that I had mentioned with
concern that she would be raped by the police, and two younger children from
the school by the garbage dump. What a treat as they eagerly reached out to
touch me! We chatted briefly and then they disappeared back into whatever the
night had in store for them.
Life in India-more and more I am awed by the way
I've been blessed and must reread the responsibilities that go along with it.
Thanks for your patience in my efforts without my
proof reader-I miss her (and you all) so much.
India #9
I'll be brief tonight because there weren't a great
deal of eventful things today.
I spent the morning preparing for this evening:
showering, etc. About 4 PM, we left for the area I described yesterday. Segunta
had already taken sound equipment etc. early in the afternoon so now it was all
of us being transported including Sneha, the almost three-year-old and a full
car load. We needed to go about 30 km out of Kolkata and as I mentioned
yesterday, things progressively change rapidly as you leave the city-especially
the roads. All was fine until the car stopped dead in the middle of the road
(literally even though they drive on the left) and we coasted off the road.
Since this is a diesel vehicle, there is not much to check other than coolant,
fuses, and fuel. All were OK. The closest anything was for any service or fuel
was 20-25 km back in Kolkata. I quickly realized that I didn't have my passport
or money because I was not sure it was wise to carry things identifying myself
as an American in a Communist area. Segunto finally stopped a motorbike and
asked for a ride to the village where our meeting was. The ladies and Sneha
went next in an auto (a scooter-type vehicle with a back seat and room on
either side of the driver for passengers.) Next, it was Diganta and my turn
with one fellow staying behind to guard the generator, a prize in these parts.
What a ride! I commented yesterday about feeling like the wheels would fall off
the car-try it with 8 other passengers on twelve-inch scooter tires on an
"auto" with no springs. We finally got there several hours late and
there were just a handful of people waiting patiently. I was seated on
"the chair" (only) facing the open doorway (no door) and watched some
fellows come up to plant a Communist flag about 20 feet outside the doorway
(for the upcoming election, I hoped.) They came to the doorway, looked, turned
around, and went out by their flag the rest of the evening. (Diganta said we
were next to their headquarters and he was concerned that they would turn me in
for deportation if I did anything that would violate my tourist visa. (The law
and all the police are Communists.) We kept the sound system "way low." I personally, even with some hearing loss,
didn't think we really needed one, but who can have church without a sound
system?!?! Service went well and it was evident that God was there. A few more
people came, about 30, but we found out most of the people were directed to the
wrong place (being a few hours late didn't seem to matter.) Sometime, a few
hours after dark, Segunta came and told us that the car was fine. He had
borrowed his father-in law's motorbike, driven back into Kolkata and brought
back a mechanic somehow. Diagnosis-a fuse. (We had checked all 6 of them-it's a
simple car.)
I am not going to question anything, I am just glad
to be back in the “safety" of Kolkata. How ten days change your values!
The gecko isn't doing a good job with bugs up here on the roof tonight so I'll
say goodbye for now. All is well in Kolkata and you are all missed.
PS By the way, Natalie, thanks for packing your
glasses for me. Hope I don't need them!
India #10
Hot and humid today. The climate is like what I
remember of Houston, TX. I remember fondly the great seafood, especially
prawns, from Houston. Makes me sad I don't eat them anymore because there are a
lot available here too. Bengalis like their seafood and eat a lot. If fact,
they eat a lot of everything; especially bulk, such as rice. Dinner plates are
metal and the size of a medium pizza pan. They are normally filled at least
once and often more. I have to say "no more" at every meal multiple
times because it is polite to say no once and then accept the second time.
We had another "crisis" this morning with
the car. This time the horn on the car didn't work. Bengalis would feel safer and more comfortable
driving without brakes than their beloved horn! The same mechanic who rescued
us from the "boondocks" found the problem and then "upsold"
us to a louder horn. Total bill for yesterday (60 km rescue) and today for an
hour was 200 Rupees (about $5.) I'll have to show pictures of his
"shop" but it was straight out of John King's domain. I was treated
like a Raja (King) and given "the chair" after it was wiped, and
offered tea. The mechanics had so much incense burning that I don't know how
they could see to work, let alone breathe. All repairs were in outside bamboo
stalls that reminded me of the revetments that we kept fighter jets in while in
the Air Force. Some had scooters ready for bodies to be made into taxis and
others had cars being refurbished.(Everything is recycled multiple times
because of the excess labor.) The horn and the rest of the car checked out good
so we're going back to our area of breakdown last night again tonight. Another
Jesus film showing was cancelled because of possible damage to our equipment if
we drew people from the Communist rally.
Mid-afternoon Diganta and I left to go pick up some
clothes I had ordered downtown. We got about ¼ miles from his house and the
street (alley) was completely blocked off. Turned out it was a sacrifice
(looked like a party) with a priest and a group of what I guess were
neighborhood folks about to sacrifice two scared goats to the goddess Kali.
Although it's hard to describe, there was an iron anvil-type piece of metal
with a U- shaped top and a pin that went
through it (to secure the neck?) set up and a young boy grinned as he flashed
the knife for me. I understand that this was probably "payoff" to
Kali for granting some request, like having a son. These people live in total
fear of Kali but keep coming back for the "power." They parted enough
for us to proceed, so we went on downtown.
I missed two more shots of human-powered rickshaws
trotting along like a machine because I was so enamored by the beauty of the
boulevard. There were flowering trees everywhere. Such beauty-too bad you can't
have it in more comfortable (to me) climates. I write perhaps too much about
the unusual and weird. There is tremendous beauty and serenity even amidst the
squalor and poverty.
We're back to square one with the horn. It doesn't
work again, but there is now a "spare" (like a spare tire!) for such
an essential item so we're able to drive. It's just not as easy shifting gears
with your finger on the dash horn button. Horns are so essential that when we
went to the mechanic yesterday, we had quite a variety to choose from. Bit of a
blessing to be slightly hard of hearing. (Not enough!)
Our trip out to our service was relatively
uneventful although it was evident that we were very close to time for the
elections by the increase of Communist propaganda even from the day before. We
closed off the door by hanging a mat. We didn't use the sound system and the
power only went out a few times. Great service; many of the same people
returning for prayer. I talked and Diganta preached and ministered. One
epileptic lady was touched and had to have two of her friends on either side
support her as she staggered out sleepily to go home later. We loaded quickly
because there was another political party having a loud rally and it looked
like the supporters would eventually meet the Communists and we didn't want to
be there when they came together. Only one problem-no keys! When we loaded, one
of the fellows from YWAM took the keys to unlock the car and was now on his way
to Kolkata in an "auto." (Scooter-type passenger transport) Found a
seat and feasted on fresh bananas that some people brought along with a bottle
of "Tom Thumb" (domestic cola-no Coke this far out) Fortunately Sagunta
hopped on a motor bike and returned about an hour later with the keys.
I am exhausted and must pack to leave on a two day
"holiday adventure to the village" at 6 AM. Good night!
India #11
What an absolutely delightful and relaxing several
days!
Early Sunday morning we headed out of the city of
Kolkata across the broad Ganges River. (I didn't realize what I had seen
earlier at the Kali Temple was a branch.) The river is similar to crossing the Delaware
into New Jersey. As we approached the bridge, they were driving a herd of
several hundred goats down the highway for a short distance. I assume they were
destined for slaughter, but never figured out why or what they were doing in
that area. Perhaps sacrifices on the Ganges? Very little (compared to normal)
traffic-a weekend.
We soon were on a turnpike. (After showing our AIDS
placard and considerable "discussion" with several levels of authority-it
was free instead of 60 Rupees=$1.50) The road was quite good by Indian standards
and the speed limit was 65 kmh. They don't limit access so everyone bordering
the highway uses it for their transit to the next thresh hold-be it bicycles or
other assorted transportation. I thought I had seen everything so I started to
put my camera away when two elephants and their driver came down the road. I think
I got pictures to prove it-if they came out.
Most of this part of India I've been to is
agricultural except for the major city of Kolkata and the rice paddies and fish
ponds are endless. There are cows and goats everywhere once you get out of the
city (and quite a lot in it.) The rice generates considerable straw and what
isn't used for house roofing get transported somewhere-lots of bicycles and
scooters rigged to act as small "trucks." There are "gas
stations" every so often but they commonly have no customers when I went
by because they are not a lot of private vehicles once you leave the city (and
even there.) We stopped at a "rest stop" that had an admission fee
although most men seem to have no concern relieving themselves anywhere. This
was an election holiday and people were lined up in many schools for hours to
vote with armed soldiers dispatched by bus from Kolkata to keep the peace.
Eventually we left the turnpike and things declined
rapidly road-wise but grew more interesting. They were crews of "low class
women" that are not free to get any other work, doing road work for
contractors for meager pay in blazing sun... It's accepted here that that is
their "karma" or lot in life. Many bridges are out and appear to have
been that way for some time. Mechanization is not a priority and is rare. There
is usually five times the number of people that I would consider adequate to do
any given job but jobs are scarce even for the educated.
The people and scenery are fascinating. If the
signs are any indication, the Communists will win handily. The village I am
going to visit has been controlled politically by the Communists for 30
years. Its part of life in India that I
thought faded with the Soviet influence. There are people everywhere and it is
expected with China's declining and India's increasing birthrates that India
will be the most populated nation by 2025. This land is a sleeping giant in
every way and one that many of us pay little attention to. The birth rate is
the largest among the poor and I suspect that is why the Communists do so well
and the Moslem community growing. I thought all the Moslems had gone to
Pakistan in 1947-48 during the same period of the Israel/ Palestine British
partitioning but it appears that isn't true. There are Moslems everywhere:
mostly laborers and domestics, very poor and humble people. When I shook their
hands, I could feel many callouses.
During the last hour of our trip, we didn't see any
cars at all. The road was like a "cow path." That is just as well-there
is no place to pass and the ruts are bone-jarring. We passed one truck and that
involved some maneuvering.
When we entered Diganta's family village, voting
was in full swing in the village school, under armed supervision. I was
cautioned not to take pictures, but it was something to view "raw
democracy" with people standing in stifling heat for hours. Men and women
voted separately. (No one could explain why-just like no women drivers.) Each
person was given a paper ballot and an ink stamp to stamp their ballot after
showing their voter identification. Their finger was then colored with purple
dye to avoid re-voting. Some people were turned away. I don't know why. Most of
the people were chewing betel nut tree leaves just like villagers do in Viet
Nam. I think it is mildly narcotic.
The Maity home is large with 6 rooms and both a
Western and Indian style bathroom. (lucked out again!) The windows and doors
are open with no screens and they pull iron lattice work over the opening for
security. There is no hot water and they heat water on a propane stove for
"bath/ showers" and then you pour it over yourself with a pitcher.
They have “a $10/ week maid" who is a neighbor whose husband divorced her.
There is no welfare safety net in India and women and children of a divorce are
on their own. The hidden sex trade is only the only way to eat unless they can
find domestic work.
The villagers congregated in front of the house and
watched my every move. Diganta's older brother came over. He has an orphanage and school in the village
as well as having a small church of about 35 people. I spoke to his staff and
kids and they prayed for me. I will never forget their hearts and eyes.
I also walked into a poor Moslem section with lots
of kids and cows. A potter gave me a great demonstration of his hand pottery
making and I passed out pencils for the kids. I had a big trail of kids behind
me coming home.
I went with Leena and Sanali to the market. A crowd
followed us everywhere. Checked out one stand that sold lighters and novelties.
We chatted about prices but I had to move on because it was jamming everything.
As I mentioned, there is no refrigeration so this market is essential.
I stopped to watch the village bakery operation. It
consisted of a huge brick wood oven and two men mixing dough with their hands
in a huge "trough." I stopped back about 10 PM when the bread came
out of the oven-what a treat! The Communist leader of the area owns the bakery
and had to come on his motorbike to give change for me. He pays these men 120
Rupees (which they split) for a ten hour shift-about 6 Rupees an hour or
$0.11/Hr for hot grueling work.
I slept "like a baby" with very few bugs
and no mosquitoes. There were a few hornet-type flying insects when I first got
into my room but an Indian-style coconut leaf broom made short work of them.
There was continuous electricity and they had brought a generator from Kolkata
for a backup.
I am multitasking:writing this and eating
breakfast.
Breakfast consist of Quaker oatmeal, banana, and
milk. (Just like home.) The only difference is that the milk is scalding hot.
(I guess because there is no refrigeration in the village.) and the bananas are
off the banana tree.
A neighbor just walked into my bedroom while I was
eating and typing and proceeded to give me an extensive massage. It was a bit
"rough" including pulling all my joints and my hair. He talked the
whole time, mostly in Bengali. However I did understand: George Bush, the fact
that his parents died, and that he considered me his Father. My computer went
into screen-saver photos and he was fascinated with pictures of my family. A
bit baffled by Rocky Mountains and a Christmas tree. When a picture of Natalie
came on the screen he looked and said “my Mother." (He had told me I was
his Father). Soon he had a helper "who had to be part of this." They
seemed quite competent, but a bit baffled by my belly-few in India and none in
the village! I could easily get spoiled in the village. A crowd follows me
everywhere, especially children. Many have never been around someone like me,
especially my size. They are curious if I know George Bush who they view as a
type of king who can do anything he wants for anyone.
We went on a day trip about 40 km away to the
"sea beach" on the Bay of Bengal. Haven't seen that kind of beauty
since DaNang in Viet Nam. Found an awesome beach that had beautiful sand and
was virtually deserted except for some people fishing with nets and a group of
people "having a party around a bonfire." My mistake-a funeral pyre,
when I checked it out! Wow! Almost
everyone came to see me except the priest and I felt foolish for interrupting.
The fishing was very limited with a few 6-inch fish on ever so many times with
the nets but they seemed OK with their meager catches.
The smoke
was bothering Sagunto so we went to another beach. This time it was very
crowded and totally 3-5 foot boulders. No one seemed to mind. We drove right up
to within 50 yards of the beach and parked. The water bordered on being hot and
was like extremely warm bath water.
It was something to see women in saris, and men
mostly clothed trying to navigate waves. Many of them confided in me how scared
they were-they'd never seen the ocean before. Quite a few of them worked up the
nerve to ask if their friends could take a photo of them with me to show their
friends back home. The next comment usually had to do with where I came from
followed with a comment about George Bush and occasionally George Washington.
Most of the shoes etc. washed away as the tide came in, creating quite a bit of
confusion. There was sugar cane strips for treats and fresh coconut milk along
with other things I couldn't identify. I used a half a bottle of sun block and
managed to survive the blazing sun. I felt quite happy to leave because I had
eaten some cashews and they were working on my system.
I experienced quite a few firsts on that trip.
First time that I saw lotus blossoms, cashew trees, peanuts growing, betel nut
trees, eucalyptus leaves, fresh water lobsters, and prawns, Indian elephants,
and possibly more that I'll recall later.
It's been a real fascinating trip each day and one I couldn't have
possibly planned or imagined. On the way home we stopped by the garbage-picking
children and they rushed out to see "Uncle" and touch me again. It's
hard to resist picking them up but they sometimes have skin diseases that
Diganta said should be avoided. It brought me back to the main reason I am
here-to see the work in the streets of Kolkata. Above all else, I will never
forget these "nobodies" that God loves so much. There is no question
that this trip has changed me forever-perhaps not understandably, or visibly,
or describable, but deep inside of me-profoundly!
Now it's time to try to fit too much in my
suitcases and prepare for a 36 hour trip that will be coming up soon. Back to
those who mean more to me than ever before. God is good!
India #12
Created a bit of a stir accidentally! My host had just
washed (mopped to us) the 10 concrete steps to the second floor and my bare
feet lacked proper traction. Not sure how I could make much noise on concrete
but everyone came running with looks on their faces that I haven’t seen since
my heart attack 15 years ago. Turned out there was no damage other than a bit
of blood, scrapes, and bruises, and a damaged ego. (Black and blue elbow, hip, etc). Was sliding
as I fell and many prayers for my safety were answered. Thank you.
I took my host
families out to dinner for a special treat at a downtown restaurant of their choice
with American-style service and eating utensils. I felt quite comfortable but
could tell that this was “foreign” to them and they were less than relaxed
although I think they enjoyed it. They were especially uncomfortable with the
duties of the service staff and didn’t seem to realize that the staff would
function without being directed. I could only eat half of my vegetable fried
rice, but my friends “were starving.” They usually consume many times the
amount of food served and consume tremendous amounts of bulk, although not
necessary quality, food. It was a bittersweet time for all of us. My young
friend Sneha was going to be three the morning I left so I got the Maitre De to
bring ice cream with candles and we sang “Happy Birthday” to her. Reminded me
of my grandson Owen, although I don’t think he speaks four languages yet.
Had a difficult time sleeping and was fearful that I’d miss
my flight. Borrowed a cell phone alarm from Diganta. (Glad I did-was the only
one up at appointed time.) Fortunately my fears of fitting everything in my
suitcases and carry-ons were unfounded and the zippers closed. Kolkata was
unusually quiet at 5 AM and we made the airport in less than an hour. Goodbyes
were difficult, to say the least, so much so that I even forgot to take
pictures.
Security seemed unusually tight and I saw more machineguns
than I remembered. Turned out there had been seven co-ordinated bombings in
Jipur below Delhi and 60 plus people had been killed. My luggage was soon
security strapped and I was left to begin “several dreaded days of sitting”
while traveling. This was the thing I dreaded most, but turned out to be
strangely “do-able” for a “professional multitasker”- just sitting doing
nothing. Once we were bussed out to our plane, the service was delightful.
Every foreign flight I had was wonderful with a young, eager to please staff and
wonderful food and service. (Wet towels and china teacup in economy!) This was
opposed to American airlines who are manned by staff with “a million years of
seniority” needed to get these long 3 or 4 times a month flights with a lot of
time off to go with it. They all seemed to be more like some of my middle
school teachers and very much “in charge”!
Our two hour flight turned into six because of high typhoon-like
winds in Delhi. We had to turn around and find a place about 500 miles away to
refuel because of the fuel burned in a holding pattern. Once we finally got to
Delhi, I had to find my way quite a few miles around the airport to the
International terminal. I had a 12 hour wait and the machine gun-armed security
guard wouldn’t let me into the airport until 4 hours before flight time. There
is a private waiting area across the street for a fee of 30 Rupees and that
gave me a place to sit down. I needed to find a bathroom and couldn’t carry all
my stuff with me. I turned to the man next to me who was reading; let’s
see…….First John in a Bible! I asked him
if he’d watched my stuff and he said, “Sure.” Had several hours of fascinating
conversation with him, a totally faith supported missionary named James John on
his way to Houston. Got an e-mail from him this morning saying he believed our
meeting was ordained and I agree. He was only one of more than two handfuls of
faith supported people I encountered on my trip and it left me very “sheepish”
about my own “needs” and requirements to do God’s work.
Security was very extensive because of the bombings. I
wasn’t aware that the US State Department had sent Natalie an e-mail detailing
their concerns for Americans there, as I blissfully continued on. With no place
to wait after clearing several security checkpoints, I finally paid the
attendant $20 for admission into the Continental Airlines One Pass facility.
They even had cheese sandwiches (the little dainty kind that take
embarrassingly too many to fill up on) and a bunch of magazines which were,
unfortunately, all in German.
When it was finally time to board our 16 hour flight, it was
a bit disturbing to see 300 people and many children all going to be together
in “that big tube in the sky” with only 9 restrooms. Not to be prematurely
concerned, but I especially felt for the mothers of crying babies. My concern
was premature because in the jet way before boarding there was one last
security check (#5) for everyone including a full body search. Another hour and then we were off. Every seat
had had extra legroom on my flights and this was no exception. Thank you, Carol,
for your specific prayers.
As we climbed to altitude, I had strangely mixed feelings. I
had had a wonderful trip. However, to answer some of your questions: No, I
wouldn’t want to live in India (if it was my choice.) I missed Natalie,
Schnecksville, family and friends a lot and this is my home. I ordered an American-style
omelet breakfast instead my normal vegetarian one (which was always Indian) and
left the sausage behind. Tasted good! As we proceeded over Pakistan, Kabul,
Afghanistan, and on over Russia and the daylight of the edge of the Arctic Circle,
I got more and more anxious for home.
I hadn’t been through immigration and customs for forty
years, but it went fine and soon I was waiting another 5 hours for a quick hour
and a half Continental Airlines bus ride home. What a treat to finally look out
the window to see Natalie waiting for me. She grew even more lovely while I was
gone. A six hour “catch up” nap in my own bed put me back on the path to
slowing my body the nine and a half hour time difference.
Even though my recliner, my favorite Chinese restaurant, and
the rest of being home feel great, I feel strangely different in indescribable
ways. Something has changed and I don’t know what it is. When I see familiar
sights and hear and smell familiar sounds and smells, different more reflective
thoughts are triggered. As I prepare to go see my friends at church today, I
think fondly of being squeezed like sardines shoulder to shoulder on the floor
of a building half way around the world. The thoughts of the oppressive heat
have faded and there is an elusive bittersweetness of a memory remaining.
“Church” (and all the activities associated with it) will never be a building-based
association again for me. I wonder if I’ll ever feel what I felt again in an American
home setting. I hope so. I want more, but hopefully without having all that I
experienced to get it. Or is that possible? Guess time will tell.
It was exactly two years ago this weekend that I had the
first hint that India was in my future. As I waited and watched things unfold
in a manner beyond anything I could orchestrate, I’ve marveled as I’ve been
prepared. As the Bible says, “behold, old things have passed away and…….” I am anxious
to utilize whatever it was that India instilled in me but am totally unsure of
what that is. I just know that there are some “jewels” that I don’t want to
fade into the “day to day” here. A friend said, “Gee, I guess you’ll have to
unwind for a while.” I told him sadly, it would be just the opposite. I have
never been so relaxed in my memory and it will be difficult “to have to r-acquire
the cares of the world” necessary for life that I left here in Schnecksville. I
hope to leave some behind forever and move on to be a different person
capitalizing on my new “freedom to be remade.”
As for the relationships that constitute the most important part of my
life, they are more precious than ever. Perhaps now that I am at least
temporarily free of some of the mental clutter, I’ll be able to act to align my
heart with my time and actions with you a bit better.
I am working on my pictures (2500) and hope to get them down
to a point where I can post them on line for those of you who are interested. I
will never forget my “garbage kids” and the eyes and hearts that spoke volumes
into my sprit. I am so grateful to have been taken from the lowest caste and
granted the status and privileges of the highest caste even though I didn’t
deserve it. Perhaps someday I’ll get to experience my sidelined dream of
walking where Jesus walked in Israel. If not, I am grateful that Kolkata pr-empted
it and gave me a new, much needed, perspective.
Thank you for reading “my ramblings” over the past several
weeks. I am grateful that you are part of my life and pray that this trip will
serve to strengthen our relationship in perhaps small but significant ways. I
may never be prepared for the chorus of “How was your trip?” and hope my
written thoughts and future actions will show you in ways that the pictures, no
matter how numerous, ever will.
Thank you from a grateful, happy, and blessed “new” man.
You’re more special than ever to me as I look forward to seeing more of what
God gifted into you.