Nepal, Bhutan Border, Himalayan Conference, and
Kolkata, India---J. Teufel
What follows are my informal observations and thoughts
from my January 2013 trip to Nepal, the border areas of northern India, and the
city of and villages surrounding Kolkata in West Bengal, India. Questions and
comments are welcome and photos will be posted later at:
Your friend, John Teufel
jdteufel@gmail.com (610) 767-7323
1—JFK
Airport and beyond
Greetings from Terminal 8 in JFK Airport. It’s the start
of our journey to Nepal, the Indian borders areas of Nepal, Bangladesh (the most
densely populated nation on earth), and Bhutan, and finally, to Kolkata, India.
The scariest part of the trip will possibly be going through the Bronx, NYC.
Fortunately, our driver Carlos is a native and chats
nonchalantly while navigating through amazing traffic. He actually got us here
4+ hours early. My trusty watch stops working and won’t restart. Perhaps it’s a
sign that I am about to embark into a different, less time-sensitive world.
I am more extensively packed that any of my three friends
and traveling companions from Overflow Ministries in Chambersburg. I am already
starting to be concerned how I will fare with all this stuff on the Buddha
Airlines “puddle jumper” airplane in Nepal.
. My friend Doug is carrying 4 gallons of coffee
flavoring for a transplanted friend who operates a coffee shop called Top of
the World in Kathmandu. Check-in goes smoothly—at least until Doug tries to
check in the flavoring. After considerable time, the TSA determines that the
contents are slightly hazardous and not able to be carried on a passenger
flight. Worth hundreds of dollars, we have no choice but to pay storage and
leave it behind in New York for our return.
Our Qatar Airways Boing 777-300 Jumbo Jet is full and my
knees feel like they are up to my chin before we even start. A concerned
stewardess took one look at me and somehow came up with a middle exit row seat
with legroom so I’d be able to walk later. I fell sound asleep after a
wonderful dinner. “We have a special vegetarian dinner for you, Mr. John.” I woke
up refreshed hours later over Southern Europe. This was a first for me—I’ve
never been able to sleep on an airplane. My companions who all fit much better
in airline seats slept little, if any.
I had an interesting conversation with a wonderful Long
island Christian businessman of Indian descent who was seated next to me. I
introduced him to Doug, Dave, and Ben. He was quite interested in our efforts,
especially in the tribal border area’s leaders and offered prayers, support,
and advice in the future. It’s great to be encouraged by someone so fluent in
that part of the world.
It’s time for breakfast before we arrive in Doha, Qatar
for a 10 hour layover.
A disclaimer: My proofreader is thousands of miles away
so please bear with the unedited stuff!
Day
2--Doha, Qatar
Greetings from Doha, Qatar. This tiny Persian Gulf
kingdom I am told is about the size of Harrisburg and is per capita the richest
nation on earth. It is the world’s largest natural gas producer and ranks right
up there in oil, too. This is the first leg of my journey to Nepal and India. I
am here because I booked all my economy class flights on Qatar Airways which
bills itself as a five star airline. (Justly from all I’ve experienced so far)
The airport is extravagant and there are convenient mosques built in for both
men and women.
Since we have more than a ten hours layover in our 27
hour journey, Qatar arranged for “overnight” accommodations before we leave for
Kathmandu, Nepal. Unfortunately that is till we have to leave at 2:30 A.M. with
little time to enjoy it. The good part is that it is the finest hotel I have
ever experienced—The Concorde. (http://www.concordedoha.com/) The discounted
room rack rate is $250 a night USD and they threw in an unbelievable $50 buffet
to ensure we were happy. Hard to believe we’ll go from this luxury to the
poverty of Nepal.
I am traveling with 3 younger, much more athletic
friends, all from the Chambersburg area Overflow DOVE Fellowship. It’s a
challenge following them in the airports. One is wondering, once we get to
Nepal if time permits, whether it would be possible to hike in the Himalayan
Mountains. Thankfully we are kind of busy when we get there!
The natives of this country are totally dependent on
imported foreign nationals from a variety of less fortunate countries to do
everything for them. As one young lady from Egypt told me, “All the people from
Qatar know how to do for themselves is count their money and they hire people
for that too!” Another jovial young man from Kenya, fresh from a night of New
Year’s revelry, said the Qatar people have run out of ways to enjoy themselves.
Every person I spoke to without prompting commented how boring and stifling it
is in this tiny country. Guess that should be a lesson learned.
I’ve got to get up soon so goodnight from the lap of
luxury across the Persian Gulf from Iran.
3—Kathmandu,
Nepal
Another stewardess
who thought my legs fit better in a bulkhead seat and another great flight.
Thank you. Darkness followed by sunrise over The Persian Gulf. Spectacular!
What a delight to be on board with so many ex-patriots
going home to Nepal from their time serving the natives of Qatar. They are
excited to be going home and are bearing “tons” of duty free gifts for family
and friends back home in Nepal. It is evident that some are not familiar with the
protocols of airline travel—they want to hold their gifts on their lap. All are
extremely friendly and it is a delight to hear their stories.
Flying along the majestic snowcapped peaks of the
mountains of Pakistan and northern India is a visual treat. I can’t imagine
what it will be like to fly out of Kathmandu and pass the tallest Himalayan
Mountain, Mount Everest, in a few days. I am glad we have experienced pilots as
we drop down out of the mountains into a valley for landing in Kathmandu, the
capital of Nepal. Nepal is surrounded on three sides by India and the other by
China. (Formerly Tibet) I can see the Oriental influence in the architecture as
we skim the city on our final approach.
The airport is a far cry from the Doha, Qatar airport’s
opulence—more like a bus terminal. Like many third world nations, you disembark
from your plane somewhere close to the runway and are taken bus to the
terminal. We are met once we get visas and clear customs by Dale, the Top of the
World coffee shop owner who is disappointed that we didn’t make it with his
four gallons of coffee flavoring extract but happy to see us. He arranged for
us to be part of a local Christian businessman’s Bible study that he founded
(along with many church plants) tomorrow bright and early. Our transportation
with our entire luggage to Bethel Guest House where we will be staying is quite
an exercise in logistics. Many potentially helpful tip-hungry folks wanted to
help get everything loaded on the roof of the Guest House van for us.
Bethel Guest House is in a narrow alley-like street and
would be impossible for me to find. Doug stayed here when he and his wife
adopted their daughter in Nepal several years ago. Our room is sparse but will
be fine. Just a few minor details when we arrive, there is no hot water and, in
fact, no water at all along with an electric outage right now. They do
thankfully have a Western-style toilet which “they will have the mechanic fix”
along with the water and electricity! Internet is working fine! The staff and
security guard are very friendly. There is no heat anywhere in Nepal and India
and everyone is freezing this time of year.(about 30-40 degrees F) I feel
comfortable and am glad to not have to experience the sweltering heat from my
last summer trip to India.
We catch a taxi through the congested streets of
Kathmandu to the PUMA (a Pennsylvania organization) home for girls and boys. We
get to spend some quality time with Mary, a Lancaster County native, and twelve
year and three month tenured house-mother before the kids come back from
school. She is hungry to chat with folks from back home. There are two rented
homes (male and female) that house 17-25 kids each. Doug’s adopted daughter,
Maya, spent time here and everyone remembers her fondly.
It’s a real treat to experience life with the kids once
they return from school. The kids stay in the homes at least through “class
ten” (tenth grade) and one who is in college came back to visit with us. The
kids are busy doing laundry, cooking dinner of rice and dhal (a watery
vegetable stew), and having fun playing with a rooster that happened by. Any
recognition brings shy appreciative grins—and that was before they knew the
guys brought candy for them along with a supply of some over-the-counter “real”
medicines from the states.
We are all exhausted and reluctantly say goodbye. We ply
rush hour traffic with a wonderful taxi driver/assistant Pastor. He has a
special grace for driving here. The sights, sounds, and smells remind me of
India. There are open sewage runoff ditches and animals everywhere that remind
me of Bangkok, Thailand many years ago. Many natives wear masks although I am
not sure it filters all the diesel pollution that is trapped in this capital
city’s valley.
With Doug leading, we walk down alley-like streets from
our guest house to a delightful little restaurant that he’d previously
discovered. There is no heat so the host pulls a barrel next to our table and
builds a fire. Great until a burning ember penetrates Dave’s favorite pants! We
had a wonderful dinner although it was difficult finding our way home in the
dark. When we got “home” we were rewarded by running water (haven’t checked for
hot) and even electricity for my C-Pap for a good night’s sleep. Now I just
need to get bundled up with warm sweats that Natalie packed to keep me from freezing
during the night. Thank heavens she labeled where everything is on post it
notes. I am almost afraid to move anything for fear I won’t be able to get
everything to fit again. Talked to her on Skype and miss her.
Great day and chilly dreams.
4—Kathmandu,
Nepal
Am adjusting to time difference—up at 2 A.M. today. It’s
difficult to adjust though to electricity being cut when I am sleeping with a
C-Pap machine. I wake up in a panic. It’s hard to find an acceptable time to
Skype back home. My body should be on local time in a few more days. Had both
power and hot waters; just no towels. Amazing morning meeting with local
businessmen from S. Africa, N. Zealand, Sweden, Detroit, etc. who have all
independently moved here to start micro/small businesses with a goal to make
local leaders financially self-sufficient. I had breakfast at one venture
called Top of the World Coffee Shop that can be run totally on solar power
(1KW.) in this area where power is allocated to a 60% outage level. The idea I
found most impressive was a hydroponic vegetable/fish farming venture up above
the city and pollution. The waste from the Trout and Tilapia sustains the
vegetables and the vegetable waste is composted to produce worms. Everything is
solar powered and/or water powered if needed. It was worth the trip to see this
and other visions in practice.
Nepal was the only officially Hindu Monarchy in the world
until 2006. There is a big Hindu presence here including some of the faith’s
holiest sites. The people are special and amazingly friendly. I am amazed to
see so many women driving motor bikes here which I didn’t see in India a few
years ago. There are schools and colleges everywhere—few accredited. There are
far less street children than in Kolkata which is a pleasant surprise. Like
India, the Communist party is a major force in politics.
I am still very concerned how I am going to meet the 20
kilo weight limit on luggage for the small plane on Friday. I have twice that
plus.
I had a wonderful dinner tonight. Couldn’t eat it all.
Power went out in the middle of it but they brought out candles and all was well.
We could see the outer wall of the North Korean Embassy as we walked home in
the dark. It’s less than ¼ mile from our guest house. Perhaps I’ll get a
daylight closer look.
Just lost power again so I need to go before my battery
is completely gone.
5—Final
day in Kathmandu, Nepal
Today has been another amazing day in Nepal.
I had breakfast at The Top of The World Coffee Shop next
to a wood stove. Amazing to feel some heat after quite a few days with none.
Even my shower this morning was 18 degrees Celsius which I guess is about 50
degrees Fahrenheit. (The heater showed that temp but didn’t boost the temperature
the way it’s supposed to.)
We hired a Pastor/taxi driver Karan (phonetic) for the
day again today. I asked him why he was so quiet yesterday while he was
driving. (and talkative the day before) He responded, “Oh, I was praying for
your team all day while I was driving and waiting for you.” I gave him a Life
Application Bible tonight as an addition to his worn and trusty English Gideon
New Testament. I’ll never forget the look on his face and the resulting big
hug.
We spent the day “doing tourist stuff.” Tomorrow starts a
rather hectic two week schedule of non-stop meetings and travel. That is, if we
don’t get fogged in. Fog can ground small planes in Nepal for several days at a
time.
Our first stop was the huge Boudhanath Stupa Buddhist
holy site, one of four World Heritage Sites in Nepal. It is a pilgrimage site
for folks worldwide because it is believed that the huge whitewashed dome
contains massive stored energy. In addition to the expected monks of every age,
I saw many westerners worshiping there. The site towers about 120 feet above
street level with beautiful streaming prayer flags and covers what I guess
would be a city block. The perimeter is completely surrounded by prayer wheels
of every size that the faithful spin as they circle the site. The outer
perimeter is wall to wall commercial shops of every kind including ones selling
machines to convert used plastic to electricity. I am utterly amazed how much
more progressive little Nepal is on energy conservation and efficiencies. Guess
it helps motivation and progress by having a power grid that can only function
most places for 8 hours a day.
The next site is one of the Hindu faith’s top holy
sites—the Pashupatnath Temple. The site was destroyed by the fourteenth century
Muslims which has resulted in hatred to this day. It is also located on a
rather dirty holy river whose banks host about forty funeral pyre cremations a
day, seven days a week, and twenty-four hours a day. Watching the family wash
the corpse and light the pyre from a strategic hillside vantage point was an
experience I’ll never forget. I cannot find the words to describe what I saw
and felt there as I watched the process from start to finish. It is a business
and fees of $300-$500 are collected by the government for the privilege. The
site also has many holy men who can legally stay stoned all the time although
it is against the law for anyone else. To achieve certain other high-level holy
man status, up until about one hundred years ago, family members were
sacrificed on a non-descript spot on this site. Presently, every March the site
also hosts special holy men with mystical super-human power. Western tourists
each pay hundreds of Dollars and Euros to witness their feats of strength using
unmentionable parts of their anatomy.
Karsan then drove us to a touristy area with an amazing
array of every kind of shops imaginable—everything from trinkets to Pashmina
woolens. Doug located a favorite vegetarian Israeli restaurant call OR2K. Great
place except you are seated on the floor and served on foot high tables.
Fortunately no one laughed at my efforts to stand up.
Our last stop was the famed Monkey Temple—both a Buddhist
and Hindu holy mountaintop sight overlooking Kathmandu. Yes, the place is
overrun by monkeys and yes, it is quite a hike up the mountain. The monks were
chanting from their prayer books just before sundown and the monkeys were
devouring all the food offerings. I enjoyed a battle between a fruit vendor
trying to defend his merchandise and the crafty monkeys. The monkeys would
divert him while others would circle in back of him to steal fruit while he was
focused on their allies. What entertainment! The vendor threw bricks, used a
sling shot, and physically chased the monkeys to no avail. His fruit
disappeared little by little as his rage and frustration increased.
Great and tiring day—too tired to go for dinner. Yes, me!
Not sure of internet access up on the Bhutan border area
tomorrow night so the updates may have to accumulate till I can send them.
Goodnight.
(Previous morning there) 5&6—Siliguri & Bhutan
Border
I am concerned that we are over our allowed baggage
allowance but relieved that our Buddha Air flight from Kathmandu, Nepal to
Bhadrapur, Nepal on the Indian border is on a reliable ATR72 turboprop. The Kathmandu
domestic airport is like a bus terminal in the states. We are waved through
baggage checks and security with little ado—because we have American passports
someone says.
Our flight is slightly delayed because of fog in
Bhadrapur but not long. I am told that the airport can be fog shrouded for
three or four days at a time. The skies are clear once we clear Kathmandu and I
am delighted to get a window seat on the Mount Everest viewing side. We are
flying over mountains the height of our Rockies but along and below the peaks
of some twice that high. The mountains are plainly visible including Mount
Everest which is highly unusual. The flight is unusually calm for such a drafty
mountainous area. I’ve never had a flight that smooth over and around the
Rockies.
We land on a very short runway amidst dried up rice
paddies. Locals line the fence to view the plane. Baggage is loaded on a cart
(like I saw in train stations many years ago as a boy) manually pushed by two
men. Everything is out in the open, not in a building. Soon the plane and all
the other passengers are gone and we look to each other questioning what to do
next. Finally, two men in a little minivan speed up to us with a hand drawn
sign that says, “John Teufel-Speaker.” What a relief! We squeeze in with the
luggage on the roof and off we go. It is fascinating to see this rural rice
growing area—reminds me of Viet Nam. Only later did I find out that the cab
drivers on the Indian side of the border had gone on strike. We ended up with
two drivers and vehicles—one to take us to the Nepal side of the border and one
who would take us beyond the strike area on the Indian side.
Our driver was outstanding but scary. We stopped in the
city of Siliguri for lunch with Diganta’s sister Rakhi. She is now happily
married with a baby girl since I last saw her. After an extended lunch we are
off through the tea gardens to Malbazar in the Dors area. We squeeze in Diganta
and are off again for two more hours. Our trip to the Bhutan border area cannot
be described with mere words. The roads weave through high mountainous areas
with high bridges, no guard rails, and curvy switchback curves. The area has
slow military convoys because of the proximity to the Chinese border along with
extensive truck traffic, bicycles, and disabled vehicles. It reminded me of an
episode of Ice Road Truckers when they sent s experienced drivers to India and
one of the drivers quit within two miles. Our driver attempted to pass
everything in sight around any and every curve. The last ten miles there was
not paved and nothing that resembled a road even though it the only way for oil
trucks to get to Bhutan. India buys oil at $100 a barrel and sells it to Bhutan
for about $60 to keep them from siding with their other neighbor—China. The
“wash board road” was not paved and resembled something like a motorcycle hill
climb track after it was thoroughly rutted with huge ruts up to four feet deep.
This was all while dodging huge loaded trucks and vehicles without lights and
weaving from side to side. We are prayed up!
Our stay on the Indian side of the border has been great
except for a large visiting insect in our hotel. We were featured speakers
(Doug taught) at a four hour conference followed by lunch with the host
coordinator and his family. Our Indian host is a church planter with 31
churches and a Bible school after 12 years. I was delighted because it wasn’t
the high level leaders that we were told to expect but rather mostly ground
level young church planters, etc. They were wonderful and very heart touching.
We did a walking tour of Diganta’s target areas in the slums of Jaigon in our
mandated “preaching” suits—not a good idea. We also met his slum area children
as they were schooled and fed. Later, we
met with and watched women from trafficking areas sew sequins on shawls as a
means of earning money—one of Diganta’s efforts to free them. This is next to a
Mosque and one of the girls told us that terrorists and related activities are
now a part of life next door. We briefly slipped into the slum area of Bhutan
(illegal for us Americans without paying $325/day but OK for Diganta) to see
some land that would make a future school site. We talked to the Buddhist land
owner. I am amazed at the range of folks with whom Diganta has cultivated good
relations—many unlikely. He is drawn to and has favor with the difficult and
unlikely and is a self-described “risk taker.”
Off to bed—6 AM to the train station!
7—Bhutan
Border & Malbazar, India.
Our Sunday starts with an early morning ride to the train
station in an “auto”—a motor scooter with a body with two seats. How we ever
got six of us and all of our luggage in I still don’t understand. We stopped
once to ensure nothing had fallen off and everything was OK. The Indian Railway
is nationalized and our ticket was about $.50 for an hour and a half ride.
There is something to be said for India’s brand of socialism—it extends
transportation to everyone no matter what class or caste. Fuel, water, and milk
are price controlled.
Riding an Indian train is neat. A single old diesel
engine pulls about 50 cars. It was rather punctual picking all of us up from
about a quarter mile long platform and the ride was delightful. Yesterday the
train hit two elephants but, much to my disappointment, we didn’t see any elephants
even though they are numerous. Diganta bought some bread and butter along with
hard boiled eggs and we “dined” on the train while taking in the scenery. The
shells go out the bars on the windows for Indian recycling. We were parallel to
the road we just came up to the border on and it sent shivers just remembering
that trip. Our ride started with endless dry rice paddies and quickly grew to
include miles of tea gardens. (Fields) Forests inhabited by numerous animals
including elephants came next but no sightings. The trip was over all too soon
but I’ll get more next Saturdays night and Sunday morning going to Kolkata.
We arrive in Malbazar and are taken through the tea
gardens to a small tribal church with about 150 eager people packed inside on
the floor. Most of these tribal people still work in the tea gardens. The
British originally brought their ancestors here as slaves to plant and harvest
tea and they know nothing of little else. They are not far removed from their
days of partial dress. The people especially the children are shy but friendly
especially if you show them their picture on my camera. We were greeted in the
service by young ladies who put Hawaiian lei-type of things around our necks
and washed and dried our hands. Many in the congregation wanted prayer and it
was an experience I’ll never forget. At the end of the service I slipped out to
be with the children and we had a great time together. I wish I had brought the
Dum-Dums lollipops that Natalie packed for me.
After a great lunch I had my first bicycle rickshaw ride
to get back to our hotel. I felt for the poor driver—I don’t think he’d ever
hauled someone as big as me.
Soon it’s time for another service—this time outdoors
under a single light bulb. When we get there, the only ones there are three,
what looked like, street kids. I had a great time with them until everyone else
came. Ultimately about 50-60 people came and it was awesome to be with folks so
hungry for God. I am amazed how all the kids are worshiping. This time I have a
pocket full of dum-dums and our friendship really blossoms after the service.
No internet
although there is an internet café within walking distance. Too tired to eat
dinner so it’s a protein bar, Lays potato chips, and off to bed.
8—Malbazar
Conference—Day 1
The locals are freezing—it hovers between 35 and 40
degrees F and is very chilly. I myself wake up freezing under my one blanket
(there is no heat anywhere) and I realize that the bathroom window is open. I
can’t close it. The glass is missing anyhow. Our hotel is fine especially since
Doug discovers the switch in the hall that turns on the hot water. What a
wonderful steamy shower the first time since Qatar!
The rooms and bathrooms are all marble—even cheap
apartments. Our bathroom has a Western-style toilet with a shower next to it.
There are no drains for the showers so the water runs across the floor to a
piece of PVC pipe through the wall and on out to the street. Indians are very
energy conscious and everything seems to be on timers (or the power goes out on
its own). I explained to Diganta’s wife Leena, who is cooking for us most of
the time, how to make cheese omelets. She has two for each of us ready this
morning along with fresh picked bananas and tangerines. Coffee in this part of
the world (and many others) is instant Nescafe packets.
My body is fully adjusted to the 10 ½ hour time
difference. I also love the lack of time and “to-do” pressures. My watch
suddenly starts working after mysteriously stopping in JFK airport a week ago.
It’s hard to explain what it’s like with no watch or working cell phone to
respond to.
Finally, we are with the students. It is an awesome and a
very humbling experience to see all those big brown eyes looking at you
expectantly. They are from all over the Himalayan Mountain region and some have
traveled days through mountain passes on packed buses to be here. Some came
without a place to stay and we are 20 over capacity. The ones that are here are
sleeping on the open floor with one small blanket each. I wonder how they all
use the limited toilet facilities. I have never seen such eagerness to learn.
The folks speak 6 different languages and sit almost 10
hours a day listening to things that sometimes are not in their language.
Interspersed with the teaching are tea times (Chai), meals of rice and dhal,
and practical application out into the neighborhoods for several hours each
afternoon. I have never seen God move like He has here and it’s only the first
day for us. (Second week for them) It is humbling and an honor to be in their midst.
They call me “Papa” and the Nepalese folks say I am “Yohanna.” It’s all music
to my ears. Most are “half my size.”
The highlight of my day is a spontaneous time of ministry
initiated by Diganta after lunch. I have never seen God presence move so powerfully
before.
Our car runs out of gas on the way back to the hotel and
it’s evident that most folks from this area are not mechanically inclined. Soon
the battery is dead as well. We do make it back safe and sound—Doug on a
motorbike. Two extra blankets tonight change everything and its curtains till 6
A.M. and another day.
9—Malbazar
Conference—Day 2
We arrive each day to the meeting to the sound of
singing—amazingly beautiful singing. The students here are mature adults but
with the simplicity and enthusiasm of a kindergarten class. They love to sing
and dance and are amazingly spontaneous. Their joy is infectious. I am sure
they are largely responsible for how wonderful I feel. In spite of the cold and
the limitations, our bond makes those things largely unimportant. I feel so
wonderful.
There are an amazing variety of nations, regions, and
tribes represented with no sense of tension or rivalry. There are 11 tribes and
tribal languages (there is also one common tribal language) represented along
with the Nepalese, Bengali, and Hindi languages. I am especially drawn to the
tribal people who have noticeably darker skin by heredity and because they
labor in the sun in the tea gardens. They are very shy and unassuming but
thrilled to have their photo taken.
Mariyam, a young 24 year-old friend who I met in 2008 in
Kolkata, takes a train from her ministry to the Bhutanese people on the border
to be here. Even though men and women don’t touch, she gives me a huge, much
appreciated, hug. I am thrilled to see another generation of this ministry. She
goes into areas where we can’t and has two other ladies in training.
Salvi, another young lady, reminds me in size and spirit
of some of the middle school students I have taught—between four and five feet
tall. She is quite fluent in English and is one of my translators. She touches
my heart deeply by bringing me a 10 Rupee bill “to sow into your ministry, Mr.
John.” She says she knows it is small to me but she has no idea how huge it
really is. It confirms to me that another English Life Application Bible will
have a good home and won’t be making the trip home.
The students are thrilled when I take an individual
picture of each of them to take back to far away America to show those who are
praying for them. They are amazed to realize that it is night there this
morning even though they all have cell phones.
Our teaching is going well—the students are hungry. It is
difficult to choose the proper illustrations. My choice of using a formation of
geese ended up being “big ducks” and losing the impact. Doug grappled with a
fast food illustration—no recognition for McDonald, but finally connected with
KFC.
Today is a “suit day”—we are scheduled to meet with 30
visiting Pastors. Only about 10 show up. It’s cold and most are coming on
motorbikes. God is doing amazing things through these Pastors—especially in the
tribal areas. The tribal people were long ago forced by the British to
relinquish their gods and become professing Christians in order to work in the
tea gardens and eat. Christianity is exploding—one Pastor has had 14,000 attend
a meeting. However, the real excitement is the students going out for practical
ministry into the neighborhoods each afternoon.
I am teaching this evening on Spiritual Mother and
Fathering along with focusing on people one by one. I survive over two hours on
my feet but can’t stand for some time afterwards. Getting old!
Another awesome time of ministry afterwards—absolutely
amazing to see God move through these students.
10—Malbazar
Conference—Day 3
I will miss these simple people—I love them more each
day.
The fog has lifted, the sun is shining, and as a result
the temperature rising. Leena remembered from 2008 and today served my morning
regiment of raw oatmeal and banana with milk. Milk here is often served hot
since there is often little refrigeration. She can’t understand why I take so
much “medicine” for my various conditions.
Diganta and Leena have had two more children since my
last visit—another daughter and a son. I love holding them on my lap in place
of the grandchildren I miss so much. Their sister Sneeha is seven and “too old
to sit on my lap anymore.” However, we have deep conversations and she is
anxious to talk with “Uncle.” She says she has no friends and is a lonely girl.
She wants to grow up to be my Cardiologist. Leena’s father and mother come
often and are special people. Her father pioneered Christianity in this region
many years ago. He is a humble man but a real giant of the faith. I am amazed
at the stories of tribal people being unable to kill him throughout various
circumstances. He is presently helping bring revival to the Northern India Anglican
Church.
Doug’s morning teaching, following up on my teaching last
night goes well. He also teaches on authority. We open the floor to questions and
they are all difficult—the place of women in the church, arranged marriages,
discipline in the church, and other “simple” matters. It is especially difficult because of the
range of denominations that are represented--ranging from Assembly of God to
Baptists.
The students all go out to the neighborhoods for
practical application during the afternoons. I am looking forward to going with
them but have not been able to so far.
After our teaching today we hire a car and driver to go
out “to the forest,” a nature preserve. Cars in India lack many essentials like
heaters, defrosters, and seat belts. To us, Indians are very aggressive drivers
and take a lot of risks. We witness a very bad accident many kilometers from
any medical help which I assume is fatal or will be.
Our driver waits for us while another car and driver
takes us through the forest. There are elephants, one-horned rhinos, peacocks,
and huge water buffalo in the forest. We only see peacocks and water buffalo
around the salt and molasses licks. The water buffalos look huge and docile but
two tribal villagers were recently killed when the buffalos charged after they
were shooed from a garden. Some of our students come from the islands of Sager
bund which are home to the famed man-eating tigers. The sun sets quickly and we
can soon hear various night-oriented wildlife, mainly birds.
We return to our original car and driver and are anxious
to move on from freezing in the back of an open jeep-like tour vehicle. Tribal
people live a tough life and many of the men have an alcohol problem. We return
to find our driver is drunk. We call for another driver and enjoy the awesome
starry night skies in India while we wait.
Eventually we end up back in Malbazar with good memories.
11—Malbazar
Conference—Day 4
It’s another chilly but wonderful morning. We breakfast
on oatmeal, bananas, peanut butter, cheese, juice, and boiled eggs—all
accompanied by beautiful heavenly singing of the students downstairs. This is a
camp-like atmosphere and takes me back to great memories over half a century
ago except that this is definitely winter camp not summer. The average age of
the students is a bit over twenty nine. (Dave is an MBA candidate and
analytical) They are not the “A” leaders who are busy running churches. These
are the Youth Pastors, Children’s Ministry Leaders, Evangelists, church planters,
and others who are the front lines serving people. Their average age of 29+
reminds me of the age of 30 that Jesus started His formal ministry. I sense
they are on the forefront of theirs, too. Miriyam, a 24 year-old I met in
Kolkata 4 years ago, already is doing amazing things on the Bhutan border area.
God is doing amazing things through these simple unassuming people of the
Himalayan region.
Our teachings go well today with a lot of interaction. We
are getting quite close to the students. They remind me of shy middle school
students. I see little male/female private interaction although several young
men took cell phone pictures of the computer screen shots of pictures I took of
female students “when I wasn’t looking.” (I took individual pictures of each
student for those back home that were praying for/supporting them)
This afternoon before our evening meeting we tour the tea
garden areas—miles after miles of tea. We also visit a factory that normally
has about 1200 workers and a total workforce of about 5000. We were accompanied
by the head of the union. The tea industry has been unionized ever since the
British abused their ancestors. This is the time of year that the tea “bushes”
are being pruned and there is no active production. (Only new leaves are used
for tea.) The tea “bushes” will flower in February and the flowers are eaten.
The tribal Pastor whose church we attended Sunday takes us to a new simple
small brick building that has been under construction for 2 years whenever
funds are available. They hope to raise $500 this year to put it under roof.
Chairs appear and customary tea and biscuits are served. The villagers,
especially the children, come to shyly stare at us. I forgot my dum-dums again
but connected anyhow.
We also visit a “golf course” with no visible holes or
sand-traps, etc. although I did find the first tee. I am not sure of the
significance of our visit—it’s just a huge open field next to about a half mile
wide dry riverbed but we politely marvel over this expanse. The mountains in
the background are fog shrouded this time of year but the outlines are sizable.
I am the only one of our group who hasn’t experienced
stomach distress. I wonder if it is the probiotic capsules I’ve been taking.
Everything has been normal even though I am not used to lunch at 2:30pm and
dinner at 8:30pm.
One young lady, Suhanna Neudane from Kathmandu (25 hours
by bus) shyly comes up tonight and gives me a wrapped present. When I open it
back in our hotel room it is an ornate piggy bank. I am deeply touched by her
and each of the 80 people who have squeezed into the conference and my heart.
12—Malbazar
Conference—Day 5
I still haven’t figured out how my roommate Doug gets a
steamy shower every morning. I even leave the water running to no avail. I guess my time here is getting short—my
dirty clothes are overwhelming the clean ones. Thanks to Natalie’s notes, I am
starting to know where everything is in my suitcases. I am starting to become
excited about but apprehensive about our upcoming possibly 17 hour train trip
to Kolkata tomorrow and Sunday. All that is available on the train are “squatty
potties” (a hole on the floor) and my knees and balance aren’t great. I am thankful
to have found western-style toilets everywhere so far on our trip even though
the toilet paper leaves something to be desired.
My friend Diganta has been running intermittent fevers
for the past several months and he wasn’t well yesterday. Cell phone service is
$2.00 a minute to the USA but I am able to leave a short phone message for
Natalie this morning—I miss her and there is no internet service for Skype.
The facility (normally rented for weddings) where we meet is rented along with everything
else—chairs, pots, pans, plates, etc. Thin rugs are spread on the floor but the
chill of the concrete still penetrates my feet when I sit.. Even though there
is bright sunlight outside, the concrete holds the chill. There are windows but
many don’t have panes and if they do, many are stuck open in 30-40 degree F.
temperatures. Birds routinely fly in to check for any food scraps. Many of you know
that I am relatively “warm blooded” but for these students these temperatures
border on agony. We come at 8 AM every morning and leave about 8 PM at night
but the students have been here 24/7 for the past two weeks. Even though I am
exhausted every night, they seem fresh and eager all the time. They are
disappointed that I am behind in technology and not able to transfer all of my
pictures to their cell phones. (They all have one.) They are anxious to go to
an internet café and see them when I post them on the internet.
I am drawn to all of these students but some are
especially noteworthy. My young 22 year old-friend and translator, Salvi
Tirkey, works with her father to translate the Bible into Sadri and other
tribal languages. She is 140 Cm. tall (I am 200) with a dark tribal complexion
and a sweet smile. I have a Bible ready to leave with her. The students know
their Bibles but seem relatively ignorant on spiritual gifts, teams, and other
practical applications. It’s exciting to see them realize their gifting(s) and
put them into practice. Doug is teaching this morning on evangelism and
effective cell churches. Everyone is hanging on his every word. They will apply
what they learn this afternoon on the streets and in the villages. It’s great
to hear the resulting stories.
Tonight is a very emotional time with a beautiful
candlelight prayer vigil and then amazing dancing and singing. I wish I had
words to describe. The enthusiasm is contagious. I love these simple people so
much.
12B—Malbazar
Misc.
The power goes off about 4:30 AM—no C-Pap breathing
machine. I have a slight respiratory problem that seemed to start after I
mistakenly filled my C-Pap with tap water—not a good idea. A fire siren goes
off every morning at 6 AM like it used to in my hometown at 6:30 PM.
Diganta’s wife Leena’s family and brother Lawrence come
to visit—what a delightful family. Her father came to the tribal people thirty
years ago. He baptized all the pastors we are meeting. It is fascinating to
hear Leena and her brother Lawrence tell stories of when they were growing up
and the ways the tribal people tried to kill their father. God protected him in
amazing ways. He is a slight humble man of 60. He is focused right now on
bringing revival to the Anglican Church and he oversees 30+ churches. He
bicycles everywhere and asked me to pray that God gives him a scooter.
Leena has a master’s degree and was a tutor for wealthy
families before she met Diganta. She had hoped to be a doctor. Her brother
Lawrence is a doctor in the tribal areas paid by the tea companies. He and his
wife Blessy who is the daughter of a Nepalese pastor have a ministry and school
for the poor of this area.
It is interesting to hear how Leena and her brother got
married. Leena didn’t want to marry a missionary and locked herself in her
room. Her brother had a young lady run away two days before their scheduled
wedding with people coming from as far away as Mumbai (Bombay). His father
talked to his pastor friend’s network and found Blessy and kept all the
festivities on schedule! They are a wonderful couple.
Lawrence runs a 20 bed clinic and has a heart for the
people of the area. His said most medicines are of high quality and
inexpensive. Rarely are prescriptions needed. Mental health and such issues are
uncommon and rarely treated, at least locally.
Leena’s uncle comes from Mumbai and is a commissioned
(1%) clothing salesman. Mumbai is about 48 hours by train from here. He is a
delight like the rest of the family.
Sneeha, Diganta’s 7 year-old daughter, wants to play
cards with me. Maybe on the long train ride to Kolkata. I miss having her grown
up to where she is too big to sit on my lap like her 3 year-old sister and 2
year-old brother do. I miss my grandchildren.
We give the students a chance to ask us any personal
question. They ask Doug what kind of soap he uses. (Dove) They want to know my
waist size (44). Later they give Doug some Dove soap as a going away present.
Dave set me up to tell one couple that they would make a
nice couple. Turns out they are fond of each other—now all they have to do is
convince parents.
13—Malbazar
Conference—Day 6
We have so many bags that the car that comes for us this
morning after we check out of our hotel can only fit in the bags and me. Doug,
Ben, and Dave walk. Something to be said for traveling with jocks!
Graduation day for the 80 students. (20 over capacity,
but someone donates a hundred kilos of rice to make it happen.) What a celebration! There is beautiful
spontaneous singing. Ben learned a song in their native tongue. (He is a
worship leader.) He brings down then house when he plays it on a guitar and he
and Dave sing it.
Several groups of students do native dances—they love to
dance. I know one group was Nepalese and another from Sikkim. Such excitement!
Several of the guest pastors quiz Doug on what doctrine
we’ve been teaching. (none, we are very careful) They want to know how we handled
questions about women leaders, head coverings, and other “important” issues. We
passed!
Everyone is in their finest including us. The girls have
on makeup and the young men act like they don’t notice even though there are a
lot of quick cell phone shots.
They bring us gifts—tons of flowers and other items. (3
pens, personal notes, and photos, etc.). I wonder if this is how a rock star
feels. We have flowers encircling our necks up to our ears. I’m not sure
whether we can bring flowers through customs. The diplomas are special to these
folks and it’s a real joy presenting them and seeing the pride spread across
their faces. Soon the formality disappears and almost everyone wants a hug. We
pose for individual pictures with the students for at least 45 minutes and one
big group photo. I assure them that I will pass their individual photos to
sponsors and prayer supporters back in the USA.
There have been four sessions a day for the past five
days that we’ve been here. I think there was a similar schedule the week
before, too. (We were in Nepal.) It seems that there is a lot of preaching in
this area but little hands-on practical teaching. These students are like
sponges, sucking up all the teaching right up till dinner time about 8-9PM.
They never tire or show anything but 100% enthusiasm.
My new ATM card finally came a week late to Rakhi’s home.
We’re going to try to get it from Durai in the Siligori train station tonight
when we stopped for several minutes to load and unload passengers. Not sure how
it will work but this is India—anything is possible. Got to get ready to go to
the train station for the next chapter in this adventure.
14—Express
Train & Kolkata
Our “day” starts at 6:38(+) P.M. as we, along with
hundreds of others, board the overnight “express” train in station destined for
Kolkata 688Km. and many hours away. Our new tribal friends help us get all our
bags on board—the train is only in the station about 5 minutes. My friend
Diganta doesn’t have a confirmed ticket for him and his family and finally buys
a general class ticket for about $3 to assure that he and his family of 5 can
share a seat. It is my mistaken understanding that I have a seat and a sleeping
berth. Actually it is just a berth and an overhead one at that. I am sharing a
compartment with two couples with a name ending in “jee” which indicate that
they are from the highest social class. I confirm that with them and they beam.
All bags must fit under the seat airline-style and I have 4—one very large. I
have quite a time climbing up into my berth which reminds me of one on a Navy
ship suspended by chains. Doug pushes the back end up and finally I am in.
There is an outlet for my C-Pap and the “jees” are fascinated with the
contraption. It hits me—how do I get out if it is this hard to get
in—especially for someone older that makes numerous night time trips? Doug and Diganta
do some sort of a switch with seats and berths and I end up with a lower berth
and after a dinner of biscuits and a protein bar, a good night’s sleep. (They
both were relatively sleepless.)
I grew up next to a railroad and to me the train whistles
throughout the night are a soothing journey into a less hectic past. Vendors
jump on the train at every stop selling essentials such as tea, coffee, food,
and computer thumb drives. The train is old but clean. One staff member sprays
an air freshener; one is the “Windex man” and cleans glass, while several
others sweep the floor. In spite of many photographs of filth and what we term
garbage in India, the Indian people are very clean and tidy with fastidious
personal hygiene. I see many bathing frequently outdoors in freezing cold.
My last apprehension about this trip is put to rest. In
addition to an Indian “squatty potty,” there is a western commode- type of
toilet on the other side of the train car.
India has progressed noticeably toward western ideals in the urban areas
since my last trip almost five years ago including a lot of our type of
restroom facilities.
Daylight reveals Indian life along the railroad tracks.
Our train seems to stop frequently for no reason and it is fascinating to open
the outer door and look out at the humanity that calls the area around the
tracks “home.” There are stray Jack Russell Terrier-type dogs (that seem to
bark every morning at dawn like Roosters crowing) everywhere but I have only
seen one scrawny cat anywhere on the trip.
Finally we enter Sealdah station in Kolkata—the end of
the line, a bit after 9 A.M. Diganta’s brother Sukanta meets us. He’s
successfully parked in front of the front door with an “HIV/Aids Emergency
Vehicle” sign prominently displayed. Not sure that would work in the US.
15—Kolkata
Kolkata seems strangely quiet with less traffic than I
remember this morning. Then I realize that it is Sunday morning. (Thing get
hectic later in the day on weekends) Sukanta
takes us to their church/school/ ministry center where we will be staying. I
had envisioned sleeping on the floor and outdoor showers like it was the last
time I was here. Now it’s got the comforts of home including a microwave.
It’s warm here—60 degrees. The first time we haven’t been
chilled to the bone in weeks. It is chilly at night but the daytime sunlight is
refreshing. Reminds me of Texas this time of year. I wear a tee shirt until
it’s time for evening church.
I visit Diganta and Suganta’s home for a wonderful
reunion with Suganta’s wife Sonali and their two “new” children. Natalie and
another lady provided a set of Veggie Tale DVD’s for the five children in these
two families and they are delighted. The younger children spend all day on a
large oversized bed (king plus a single) in a single room. Their parents are
reluctant to let them play with any children except at church and the children
are lonely for any diversions.
I haven’t seen Sukanta and Sonali since we drove to
Toronto to see them at the Toronto Airport School in January of 2010. This
unassuming young mother is now an accomplished preacher—a far cry from the shy
girl I saw years ago in her village. She attributes it all to God and Diganta
and it is wonderful to come back to see such fruits. God is alive and well (and
thriving) in India.
We do a quick field trip before church to the downtown
areas. Now it’s the hectic Kolkata that I remember. Kolkata has more population
it is estimated (there is no accurate census data) than New York City. Diganta
lives in an area that would be like Queens. We visit a large building about the
size of the US Capital that is dedicated to Queen Victoria. There are mobs of
folks so we just view it from a distance. I ask Sukanta to find an area where I
can buy a belt and he does a quick swerve in a dense shopping area. (That a
policeman informs us later that we weren’t supposed to enter.) It’s wall to
wall people but I am in and out in less than ten minutes and that includes the
time it took for my credit card to clear.
Our friend Philip has joined us from Mysore in the south.
I first met him last year in the US and fell in love with him in the few
minutes we spent together. He is Kenyan by birth and Indian by choice. He is on
a student visa and has been here for the past 17 years. He has amassed 5
different degrees over that time including law and divinity degrees in order to
keep his visa. He is a pastor and a real delight.
Church is packed—about 80 in what I guess is a 20 by 40
room. There are more children than there were the last time and my bag of 250
Dum-Dums is going fast with three schools to visit tomorrow. The women don’t
have head coverings like they did the last time I was here—I am not sure why.
These are shy working-class people who quickly avoid eye contact when I catch
them staring at my amazing bulk. Their worship is awesome like it has been
throughout our trip. Doug preaches, we are presented with flowers, and then
they come to us for prayer. It is very humbling to stare into those expectant
big brown eyes and realize what a huge opportunity God has given us to see Him
and His work in the masses of Asia.
16—Kolkata
I awake to the Moslem call to prayer at 5:30 A.M.
followed by dogs howling for another half hour. Soon I hear the sounds of young
children downstairs in our same building as they come for morning kindergarten.
They are returning from winter holiday and are “wired.” Many are crying. They
are all in uniforms and are adorable. They all have backpacks, tippy cups, and
all the essentials—just like the US. I try to calm the kids with my Dum-Dum
remedy and Dave, our only non-parent, says, “And you’re trying to solve the
problem with sugar?!?” Their singing is wonderful and we speak to them and pray
for each of these wonderful children. Ben sings to them in Hindi and the
children are enraptured. Soon the parents are lined up at the door and it is a
treat to watch the children do a show and tell for their parents and disappear
down the “alley.”
When I step out, other older children are playing
badminton in the street. The rackets have more holes than strings and the
shuttlecock is—or rather was some time ago, chicken feathers. I am invited to
try and soon other kids and then adults want to play. We have a spirited
session and my long arms come in handy in retrieving the shuttlecock from
various places.
Soon we’re off to see Mother Theresa’s grave and the
Sisters of Charity main headquarters. It’s very somber site and it’s very
moving to watch folks pray over her crypt. Philip chats with one of the Sisters
in Swahili (she spent 18 years in Africa before coming here). We meet a YWAM
team from all over the world there and have a great chat.
Kolkata traffic is lighter than normal—it’s a Hindu
holiday. I finally catch a picture of a human powered rickshaw. I tried in vain
my whole last trip—they just run too fast and disappear too quickly. Kolkata is
the only city where you can still find them transporting people and goods.
We lunch at Diganta’s house and as usual Leena provides a
real treat. I enjoy looking at their wedding album until their seven year-old
daughter reminds me that I promised to play cards with her. (She won.) Hillary
Clinton visited her school and she has a laminated commemorative card to prove
it. Both Clinton and President Obama are
quite popular here for their “progressive world views.” My Kenyan friend Philip
says that the O in Obama is the prefix for “any man” and that Obama is a very
common name.
We head out midafternoon (we end up eating about 2:30 PM
and then 9 PM) to visit some school/ministry centers that Sukanta and Sonali
started. These are very different than the morning session—most of the
children’s clothing is clean but ragged and mismatched or not the right size the
“school” is in an open concrete shell that didn’t even have four walls. The
kids are amazing. One reaches out to touch my white skin and soon many others
“risk” it too.
We do one other school/ministry stop as dusk
approaches—this one with about 80 children squeezed into a room. I don’t have
that many Dum-Dums left. We feed each of the children welcome plates of fried
rice. Simple—no utensils needed in this culture.
Just before total darkness I get to see the land for
Diganta’s proposed orphanage. We pray over the land and for the orphanage for
Kolkata street kids. I acquired a copy
of the plans for this orphanage about 5 years ago and accidentally got deeply
involved about three years ago in a land deal that went sour because promised
funds never materialized. The land is owned by a man named Swapon and his 3
sisters (relatives and neighbors of my friend Sonali’s family) and he needed to
use the proceeds for a marriage dowry. When the funds didn’t materialize before
the wedding, Swapon went to a loan shark for a short term loan till the funds
came. It became a real mess and split the two former friends and neighbors.
I got to meet Swapon after dark in the market on neutral
ground to apologize and ask his forgiveness. I got to pray with him in person.
(I’ve been praying off and on for him for years.) He gave me permission to give him a big hug.
He invites me to come to his home but time didn’t permit.
We finish the evening visiting Sonali’s parents and
sister. They are simple farmers who live in a completely open adobe home with
no windows or doors situated among coconut and banana trees. They cook eggs for
us like the 92 year-old grandmother did for me 5 years ago except this time it
isn’t over an open fire. I experience the scariest moment of our trip when I
navigate across a 50 foot “bridge” (3 lashed together bamboo poles) across a
pond by the light of a flashlight and back again. I am unsteady even walking
sometimes! We have a wonderful time and return to Kolkata bearing many fond
memories and gifts of tree ripe bananas and a lemon the size of a grapefruit.
We are finally able to get a Skype phone connection but
unfortunately Natalie isn’t home. Tomorrow is another big day. I will get to
see the street kids again and start the long journey home in the wee hours
following. All is great here in Kolkata.
17—Kolkata
(last day)
I sleep fitfully on my last full night in Kolkata as
going home thoughts fill my mind. Tomorrow night it will be twenty-some hours
on a plane. Beds in India are “extra firm” since Indians are normally used to
sleeping on mats on the floor. Maybe that’s where the “mat” in mattress comes
from.
It’s warm and sunny and I am soon sweating after my
shower. I also experience the first major signs of mosquitoes. (The climate
here is like Florida.) Wonderful after freezing without heat in the mountains
for several weeks.
We start our day in a small corrugated tin school in a
primarily Muslim area. As always the children are a delight and after they eat
a meal, they do songs with motions for us outside--there is no room inside. We
bend low as they also put beautiful necklaces of flowers around each of our
necks. This is repeated several more times during the day. The last visit is a
return to my favorites—the street kids. Many of them are victims of AIDS either
directly or indirectly and they live on the streets next to the attracting
garbage area.
We spend time in the central downtown market area
shopping. It’s fun watching men make
assumptions about what would be good for their wives. The area we are shopping
in is filled with hundreds and maybe thousands of small street vendors. I stand
and watch one—a salad vendor as he slices and dices with deft strokes making
fresh salads to order. I would love to have one but know the vegetables aren’t
washed properly for my Western immune system. I have “dodged the bullet” on
digestive problems and will just stay with my respiratory challenges instead.
I am amazed how many employees are required to man a
retail establishment—I counted 16 standing in a small clothing store with no customers.
Efficiency in India is far lower on the priority list than finding a job for as
many as possible of the billion+ people.
Much of the afternoon is spent on the roof of my friend
Diganta’s home chatting about his life and ministry. It’s wonderful to get a
face-to-face update instead of our usual Skype. He’s a fascinating man of God.
He has passed up many opportunities abroad to be here in his home country
caring for folks few others care for. He’s like “the Energizer Bunny” but
lately has fought continuing fevers, fatigue, and headaches.
We get a chance to watch the women he takes into his
ministry doing sewing and other money-making endeavors. They seem very happy.
One course of training is instructed by a profession bridal makeup artist. If
you’ve never seen an Indian bride, I found the makeup and adornment amazing.
Huge amounts of money are spent and this looks like a great course for future
sustaining income. Hopefully, we can link some of the “tent making”
self-support ideas we learned from our South African friend Bill in Nepal, too.
Our now dear friend and church planter Philip from
Mysore, India (South—close to Bangalore) has to leave before we do and casually
said he’d get a lot done on his long 48 hour train ride home. He’ll still be on
the rails of India when we get home to NY. He’s a very amazing, special man who
quickly captured a place in my heart. I hope to spend time with him again soon.
Kolkata traffic is clogged even close to midnight but we
finally make it to the airport and say our goodbyes. My legs are stiff from the
short hour long ride to the airport. Qatar Airlines grants me extra legroom on
both legs of my flight—I can’t say enough good things about their airline and
customer service. I follow some rude, pushy Chinese tourists through security.
Air China flies to Kolkata and actually has the cheapest flights from New York.
(41 hours) I wouldn’t fly it for any price if these folks are on it.
Soon I’ll be heading home.
18—Kolkata,
Doha & NYC
My “last day” starts a day early, ends a day late and
spans parts of 3 days although technically the date stays the same (spanning an
extra 10 ½ hours traveling west). We have been up all day after I at least
sleep fitfully the night before. Kolkata traffic is clogged even close to
midnight but we finally make it to the airport after some really scary moments
in traffic—some of the worst we experience. (Tuesday your time) My legs are
stiff from the short hour long ride to the airport and my nerves are shot. We
reluctantly say our goodbyes. Kolkata has built a brand new state of the art
airport—unfortunately it won’t be open for several weeks. The waiting areas are
very crowded.
Our 6 hour flight to Doha, Qatar (in a row with 2 adjacent
empty seats, only place on plane) and connection to New York is wonderful even
at the 3 A.M. departure time. Having worked on big aircraft during another part
of my life, I am always enthralled with the giant Boeing 777-300ER long range
aircraft. The nineteen member flight crew does a superb job serving the
approximately 335-380 tired passengers. They are always “on their game” and
alternate resting in 4 hour shifts “upstairs” in the back of our aircraft.
As happens frequently, God links me to some interesting
folks. I sit down in my seat and it’s next to my delightful Indian/American
friend and seatmate Sam from our flight 18 days earlier. (What do you think the
probability is?) What a delight except that I am in seat “D” instead of my
assigned seat “C.” I move to seat “C” with no one next to me, have a “Mr. John
vegetarian breakfast,” and doze off. I wake to a find a gentleman sitting in
the seat between me and the USA born Muslim cleric next to the window. Turns
out Sam, a Nigerian native is on his way home to his wife in California from a
disastrous Nigerian construction venture. He’s lost much of his money and has spent
a year there trying to recover it, to no avail. I am thankful that I’ve had a
little indirect exposure to Nigeria and the perils of business there. We chat
off and on during the 14-15 hour flight and talk to God about the situation. He
says he’ll call me in a few days.
Customs goes quickly and smoothly. There are very few USA
citizens on our flight and in our citizen line.
I feel strangely melancholic. My time in Nepal and India
reintroduces me to a simple lifestyle I first witnessed over forty-five years
ago in the Philippines, Viet Nam, and to a lesser extent, Thailand. I am
extremely anxious to see family and friends but know it will again be frustratingly
impossible to convey when folks say “tell me about your trip” all that I’ve experienced.
I know I march to a “different drummer” but hope that I don’t have to go
through the agonizing, lonely readjustment again that I experienced after my
last trip. I don’t want this elusive, indescribable (I now know what it’s like
to be dumb and not able to communicate) experience to slip away like a “dream”
the way it did after my last trip to India. I would so love to bring home some of the
hungry young Christians who are touching this part of the world and me so
profoundly as a sort of “show and tell.” I will be looking at 80 of them on my
computer screen saver as a perpetual reminder (copy attached). I will never
forget Karzan, Miriyam, Salvi, and so many others and am deeply honored to be
part of their contagious and courageous spiritual journeys. Their simple humble
childlike faith in telling about Jesus is infecting many that they meet
everywhere they go. There are no programs or campaigns. It’s just like what
I’ve read about in Matthew 10 except for the fact that they’ve made it their
personal and very effective story and calling.
Matthew 10:5-10 ( TMSG )
Jesus 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.
Go to the lost, confused people right here in the neighborhood.
Tell them that the kingdom is here.
Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously.
“Don’t think you have to put on a fund-raising campaign before you start.
You 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.
Matthew 10:5-10 ( TMSG )
Jesus 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.
Go to the lost, confused people right here in the neighborhood.
Tell them that the kingdom is here.
Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously.
“Don’t think you have to put on a fund-raising campaign before you start.
You 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.
News about this Jesus is more than alive and well in an
exploding number of eager hearts on the Asian subcontinent. Yes, it’s the same
Jesus but different than the one we take for granted and “know” so well.
I am sorry that due to technical problems with my
distribution list and lack of local internet that I haven’t been able to send
out daily email updates as I’d promised. I’ve been able to communicate only with
Natalie and by Facebook on an erratic basis. I hope to have an edited complete
version once I get home to broadband and my lovely personal proofreader. (Everything
I wrote was hurried and “seat of the pants.”)
Thank you so much to those of you who prayed for me and
those with whom I served. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know that special
grace, favor, and rest that I’ve seldom experienced to this extent accompanied
me with every step and in every relationship. There were specific special times
that I knew that there was special intercession as I am sure some of you know. Thank
you from the bottom of my heart. Even though I often feel inadequate but
thankfully, I am seldom scared. I feel like there is nothing that can’t be done
with the support of a team of praying people like you. Thank you also to those
who sponsored leaders from the Himalayan region for the past two weeks. We were
funded for sixty and somehow eighty showed up—some traveling from 25 hours away.
Hopefully names and photos will follow soon if there aren’t technical problems
with that too.(one attached)
Thanks again. I am anxious to see all of you wonderful
friends and family back home in beautiful Pennsylvania very soon.
