Tuesday, February 5, 2013

2008 India trip "Morning Musings"


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.

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 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.