I hate that song (for those that are fortunate enough to not know, the title to this post is a song). When I was in the states I was stunned not by the topic being sung about, but just the stupidity of the lyrics. Admit it. It’s stupid.
I have a lot of work to do. I am trying to finish it before Wednesday, and I am wondering if it will be possible to do so (my uncertainty is reinforced by the fact that I am blogging right now-not working...). So I came to a coffee shop in the city to focus and work but have found myself continually distracted by the stimulants around me.
Child labor. It breaks my heart and I see it every day. As I walked into the shop I was greeted by a 13 year old boy washing the glass door with a piece of old newspaper. He was working as a security guard. He is not in school, and at this rate can expect to remain in poverty forever.
The homeless. Homelessness is quite different here. Everywhere we are told don’t give money to the homeless- its harmful, doesn’t solve the problem etc. I believe there is a lot of truth in that but the man I claim to follow said “give to everyone who asks of you.” there are no caveats- give to everyone who asks of you. As I sat engrossed in my work I noticed a dirty 9 year old boy standing outside the glass window staring at those of us inside. We both knew he was separated by infinitely more than the half inch thick glass. He watched as we sipped our coffees, laughed, and enjoyed the cool AC. Jesus’ words surfaced immediately but before I could get up one of the workers opened the door to shew him away back into the street.
Music. The music is a conglomeration of western/bollywood/traditional[er] Indian. the speakers will throb with a popular flamboyant bollywood dance song only to be followed by “my first kiss...” (I don’t even know who the artist is who sings that song).
Customers. There are 2 girls sitting across from me having a great time laughing and talking. The man to my right keeps yelling “babu!!!” (literally “little brother”), just to make sure they still know he is in control. And I sit here working on a project to mobilize workers to come here.
The contrast between the songs from my country shaking the weary speakers, and the young boy standing outside looking in longingly stuns me. I wonder if this was the image Jesus had in mind when he told the parable of the wedding banquet.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Monday, November 08, 2010
A trip to the barber shop
I am suffering from early onset balding. However I refuse to be a victim and I have decided to take control of my life and show my rebellious hair that I am still in control- by cutting it all off.
This has lead me to quite enjoy my trips to the barber shop. A hair cut and a shave cost right around $2 and have thus become a regular part of my schedule. Today I walked to the barber shop and because of the rain noticed some had left their shoes outside the door. I briefly examined the shoes and then pictured the feet that must have been wearing them. Such a mental picture was just enough to persuade me to [at least] tentatively keep mine on. I walked in and saw the owner, with his shoes on, reading todays Telugu paper. He didn’t seem to notice me so I kept wiping off my shoes on the mat louder and louder. It didn’t work so I cleared my throat. That also didn’t work. So I walked up to him and said “hello. Sir. Yes. I want a hair cut.” This invasion of his personal space got me little more than an exhale out of his nostrils. But I refused to be deterred and began to walk toward the chair. This did the job. He sat up and shouted, “VISHNU!!!!!”
Vishnu is the gentleman that usually cuts my hair. He poked his head out of a back room, and upon seeing me was overcome with what seemed like happiness (or maybe hope for a big tip, but I will tell myself the previous). He was barefoot, wearing slacks and a fluorescent orange polo shirt and assumed the jumping jack position (arms and legs out in 4 different directions). In spite of such an entry still the first thing I notice about him every time is his mustache. It is fair to say that such a mustache could make any man second guess his ability to grow facial hair. Some times I catch myself looking at it instead of his eyes wondering if it could be his own “magic hat” from which he pulls a white rabbit.
He knows my routine, so he immediately set to work. I find haircuts incredibly relaxing, so it is not uncommon for me to close my eyes and begin to doze off. This time I was jolted out of my stupor by a pair of his scissors up my nose. Apparently while trimming my own meager mustache he noticed a few nose hairs. He set to work on those as well with the fervor of a mad lumberjack.
After this he looks at me in the mirror and asks “oil massage?” Of course I couldn’t turn down such an offer (to be fair I thought he meant head massage), and replied in the affirmative. He removed a small bottle of red something from the shelf and lubed up my freshly shaved head until it resembled a greasy ball bearing. This time he got “in the zone” and exceeded all previously set “norms.” He cracked every bone in my neck, back, arms and hands. I have never felt so “loose” (don’t take that out of context) in all my life. I paid the $2.50 for my hair cut and shave, and $1 for the 15 minute massage. Honestly, where else in the world could you get all that for less than $4?
As I walked home I stopped by Satish’s shop. He knows me and lets me keep a tab with him. I paid my previous tab and bought a dozen eggs and some onions. Satish is a smoker and was attacked by his angry lungs as he held my groceries. I took my freshly garnished goods consoling myself with the fact that eggs have shells and onions skin.
This was normal, and I love it. Nowhere else could you experience so much with so little money. Welcome to my life.
Incredible India.
r
This has lead me to quite enjoy my trips to the barber shop. A hair cut and a shave cost right around $2 and have thus become a regular part of my schedule. Today I walked to the barber shop and because of the rain noticed some had left their shoes outside the door. I briefly examined the shoes and then pictured the feet that must have been wearing them. Such a mental picture was just enough to persuade me to [at least] tentatively keep mine on. I walked in and saw the owner, with his shoes on, reading todays Telugu paper. He didn’t seem to notice me so I kept wiping off my shoes on the mat louder and louder. It didn’t work so I cleared my throat. That also didn’t work. So I walked up to him and said “hello. Sir. Yes. I want a hair cut.” This invasion of his personal space got me little more than an exhale out of his nostrils. But I refused to be deterred and began to walk toward the chair. This did the job. He sat up and shouted, “VISHNU!!!!!”
Vishnu is the gentleman that usually cuts my hair. He poked his head out of a back room, and upon seeing me was overcome with what seemed like happiness (or maybe hope for a big tip, but I will tell myself the previous). He was barefoot, wearing slacks and a fluorescent orange polo shirt and assumed the jumping jack position (arms and legs out in 4 different directions). In spite of such an entry still the first thing I notice about him every time is his mustache. It is fair to say that such a mustache could make any man second guess his ability to grow facial hair. Some times I catch myself looking at it instead of his eyes wondering if it could be his own “magic hat” from which he pulls a white rabbit.
He knows my routine, so he immediately set to work. I find haircuts incredibly relaxing, so it is not uncommon for me to close my eyes and begin to doze off. This time I was jolted out of my stupor by a pair of his scissors up my nose. Apparently while trimming my own meager mustache he noticed a few nose hairs. He set to work on those as well with the fervor of a mad lumberjack.
After this he looks at me in the mirror and asks “oil massage?” Of course I couldn’t turn down such an offer (to be fair I thought he meant head massage), and replied in the affirmative. He removed a small bottle of red something from the shelf and lubed up my freshly shaved head until it resembled a greasy ball bearing. This time he got “in the zone” and exceeded all previously set “norms.” He cracked every bone in my neck, back, arms and hands. I have never felt so “loose” (don’t take that out of context) in all my life. I paid the $2.50 for my hair cut and shave, and $1 for the 15 minute massage. Honestly, where else in the world could you get all that for less than $4?
As I walked home I stopped by Satish’s shop. He knows me and lets me keep a tab with him. I paid my previous tab and bought a dozen eggs and some onions. Satish is a smoker and was attacked by his angry lungs as he held my groceries. I took my freshly garnished goods consoling myself with the fact that eggs have shells and onions skin.
This was normal, and I love it. Nowhere else could you experience so much with so little money. Welcome to my life.
Incredible India.
r
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Diwali!
Diwali (dee-val-ee)
I think Diwali might be the happiest time of the year here. The debilitating heat of summer is fading into little more than a memory with temperatures in the mid 70’s every day. Night temperatures dip into what could certainly be considered “cold” or at least “chilly.”
Diwali is called The Festival of Lights. Although certainly true, practically speaking this is not the first descriptor that comes to my mind. I would name it “The Festival of Explosions.”
As I drove in from the city today I swerved around conspicuously placed advertisements for fireworks, each of which proclaimed itself “BEST IN THE WORLD.” At one intersection there was a life size version of Big Foot wielding a sub machine gun. Happy holidays.
Now technically Diwali lasts for 10 days, but it all culminates with a big bang tomorrow evening. People will set candles outside their doors leave gifts of food and trinkets for their favored gods in their domestic shrines. In addition they will paint ornate multi-colored murals all over the ground. At one large bookstore after ascending on the escalator you are greeted with such a flamboyant piece of art. Although certainly beautiful I wasn’t really sure if I should walk on it, or tip toe around it (I chose the latter, I may have been the only one, I don’t know). One of my neighbors will pay homage to the resident ant mound and offer both a mural, and gifts to the ants.
Now my flat (apartment) sits behind 2 restaurants both of which are open very late. Most of the firecrackers will be detonated in the earlier evening, however the employees at said restaurants never want to miss out on the fun and will begin their own celebration around 3am. Beneath my window.
I really enjoyed Diwali last year. With a complete absence of [enforced] laws regarding such explosions the whole city turned into a party of some form. Small children threw strings of firecrackers at busses and cars before running away laughing into their parent’s arms. People filled the streets (during traffic) seeing how long the wick would last before releasing their perfectly timed experiment. I expect this can become a journalist’s thanksgiving as the next day’s paper seemed to be littered with stories of festivities gone awry.
Diwali is tomorrow. boom.
r
I think Diwali might be the happiest time of the year here. The debilitating heat of summer is fading into little more than a memory with temperatures in the mid 70’s every day. Night temperatures dip into what could certainly be considered “cold” or at least “chilly.”
Diwali is called The Festival of Lights. Although certainly true, practically speaking this is not the first descriptor that comes to my mind. I would name it “The Festival of Explosions.”
As I drove in from the city today I swerved around conspicuously placed advertisements for fireworks, each of which proclaimed itself “BEST IN THE WORLD.” At one intersection there was a life size version of Big Foot wielding a sub machine gun. Happy holidays.
Now technically Diwali lasts for 10 days, but it all culminates with a big bang tomorrow evening. People will set candles outside their doors leave gifts of food and trinkets for their favored gods in their domestic shrines. In addition they will paint ornate multi-colored murals all over the ground. At one large bookstore after ascending on the escalator you are greeted with such a flamboyant piece of art. Although certainly beautiful I wasn’t really sure if I should walk on it, or tip toe around it (I chose the latter, I may have been the only one, I don’t know). One of my neighbors will pay homage to the resident ant mound and offer both a mural, and gifts to the ants.
Now my flat (apartment) sits behind 2 restaurants both of which are open very late. Most of the firecrackers will be detonated in the earlier evening, however the employees at said restaurants never want to miss out on the fun and will begin their own celebration around 3am. Beneath my window.
I really enjoyed Diwali last year. With a complete absence of [enforced] laws regarding such explosions the whole city turned into a party of some form. Small children threw strings of firecrackers at busses and cars before running away laughing into their parent’s arms. People filled the streets (during traffic) seeing how long the wick would last before releasing their perfectly timed experiment. I expect this can become a journalist’s thanksgiving as the next day’s paper seemed to be littered with stories of festivities gone awry.
Diwali is tomorrow. boom.
r
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
kindness V.S. firmness
One of the fascinating things I have seen are disagreements. It is quite normal for people to yell, scream and insult the other (who is clearly the one in the wrong) in almost a vocal wrestling match. Both parties will flex their power and the first one to tap out must clearly be in the wrong.
Now to be honest it is nothing personal. Both people can walk away from a “heated” tussle completely unfazed and at the next meeting pretend as if they were natural born blood brothers.
I can’t do that. I am not a yeller. And I don’t really care to engage in a race to see who is most powerful. However the problem for me has been that sometimes, people do not plan to respond apart from intimidation. That isn’t meant to sound offensive. It is the simple fact that the people here have significantly thicker skin than me. Thats all.
A story.
I have a MacBook. I love it. it is pretty bare-bones and I quickly filled up my hard drive with important things like music and movies. So i looked at upgrading to a 500GB hard drive. I was quoted at just over $100 including installation. I thought WOOHOO! The drive had to be ordered and 2 days before installation I found out that the Mac store was putting in a Singaporean one that he promised* was just as good as MAC. Maybe. I was skeptical, but what put me over the edge was I knew that would invalidate my warranty. So I said no. Return it. I want my money back. I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t yell, I wasn’t even that angry. He refused, said it was impossible. No refund. Ever.
So I drove to his office and sat down with him. I told him that I was not aware he was putting in a different brand, and the consequences of it, and that I refused (this would be rude at home) to pay for it. that I needed all my money back in cash (I paid with card). He called his supervisor, and we 3 talked. I told the supervisor how good a job his technician had done in the past, I didn’t blame him for anything, but that I was in a dilemma and how could we fix it. That changed everything. Not only was there NO tension, yelling, or shows of power, but relationships were made stronger and I was refunded my $100 cash in less than 24 hours. The same thing in another culture handled that way could have been a fiasco of rudeness.
This was an example of it going well. It hasn’t always ended so happy, but that has been my benchmark. I am finding that I have to be much much firmer that I am used to, which in my black and white thinking is mutually exclusive of kindness, compassion, forgiveness and love, but I am learning to hold both- kindness and firmness.
its a process. enjoy it.
r
Now to be honest it is nothing personal. Both people can walk away from a “heated” tussle completely unfazed and at the next meeting pretend as if they were natural born blood brothers.
I can’t do that. I am not a yeller. And I don’t really care to engage in a race to see who is most powerful. However the problem for me has been that sometimes, people do not plan to respond apart from intimidation. That isn’t meant to sound offensive. It is the simple fact that the people here have significantly thicker skin than me. Thats all.
A story.
I have a MacBook. I love it. it is pretty bare-bones and I quickly filled up my hard drive with important things like music and movies. So i looked at upgrading to a 500GB hard drive. I was quoted at just over $100 including installation. I thought WOOHOO! The drive had to be ordered and 2 days before installation I found out that the Mac store was putting in a Singaporean one that he promised* was just as good as MAC. Maybe. I was skeptical, but what put me over the edge was I knew that would invalidate my warranty. So I said no. Return it. I want my money back. I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t yell, I wasn’t even that angry. He refused, said it was impossible. No refund. Ever.
So I drove to his office and sat down with him. I told him that I was not aware he was putting in a different brand, and the consequences of it, and that I refused (this would be rude at home) to pay for it. that I needed all my money back in cash (I paid with card). He called his supervisor, and we 3 talked. I told the supervisor how good a job his technician had done in the past, I didn’t blame him for anything, but that I was in a dilemma and how could we fix it. That changed everything. Not only was there NO tension, yelling, or shows of power, but relationships were made stronger and I was refunded my $100 cash in less than 24 hours. The same thing in another culture handled that way could have been a fiasco of rudeness.
This was an example of it going well. It hasn’t always ended so happy, but that has been my benchmark. I am finding that I have to be much much firmer that I am used to, which in my black and white thinking is mutually exclusive of kindness, compassion, forgiveness and love, but I am learning to hold both- kindness and firmness.
its a process. enjoy it.
r
Gestures
They say that communication is 90% body language. But I wonder if the body language of the one to coin the phrase said “I am lying.” Remember what crossing your fingers meant when you were a kid? Regardless, I certainly agree that a significant amount of communication is with your body. I also believe that Indians are far better than me at this. Here are a few of the gestures that I have learned.
the bobble head- Made famous by the tacky dashboard ornament in your first car. Here it is similar. It looks like you are trying to touch your ears to your neck, but not in a rigid side to side movement. More of a flowing loosening your neck movement. This simply means “I acknowledge that words are coming out of your mouth.” It does not mean yes, or no, or I agree, or even that I am listening to you. I just means "I see that you are talking right now." If you want some clarification, an accented “no?” on the end of your sentence will suffice. If the other party agrees he/she will tell you, if they do not agree, don't understand or weren’t listening you will get another bobble head. Occasionally I have switched to spanish in the middle of my sentence. If they respond with a bobble head I know they don't understand or aren't listening.
the raised pinky- If you make a fist raise it parallel with your shoulder, and stick your pinky straight out, as conspicuously as possible. The means “I have to pee.” technically the 2 fingers (pointer and middle) means I have to poop, but I have never seen that used. In the day to day the raised pinky suffices for both.
the wrist of fatalism- This is my favorite. Start with your forearm perpendicular to your body (elbow bent at 90 degrees) palm facing down. Then quickly rotate the wrist until the palm faces up. During the rotation though the pinky and ring finger should be brought in, and the other 3 left out. This is technically is followed by the phrase “what to do?” (except the words sound more like “watudu”), but often the words are left out. This can mean many things. Everything from I don’t know/care to you can pee wherever you want. If you are asking someone a question and are answered by the wrist flick you are free to proceed however you would like.
Drinking hand- This is tricky and I have messed it up a few times. You raise your hand to your mouth as if holding an invisible glass. As it gets close to the mouth you shake the hand. This literally means Drink? Depending on the context it can be do you wanna get a coke with me? or would you like some water? or did you have something to drink? However if the pinky finger begins to inch its way out from the other 3 the gesture will take on a new meaning. Said motion with an extended pinky means “shall we get a beer?” The extended pinky means the drinking will be exclusively alcoholic. Now I work in a very conservative organization, and going up to someone during working hours and gesturing “do you want a beer?” when I mean to say “do you want to go to the canteen and get a soda with me” can be a serious problem.
The flashing hands- Extend one hand (preferably the dominant one) and bring all 5 fingers to a point facing in front of you. Then open (not quite fully though) and close your hand a number of times. People on the road were doing this to me for a week before I had any clue. In brazil this means there are too many people on the bike, and my brazilian friends were completely lost (it is not uncommon to see 4-6 people on a motorcycle). It really only means that your lights are on. It is funny to me because many other abnormal things (cows in the road, people driving into oncoming traffic, pimped auto rickshaws etc.) don’t even receive a second glance. However if your head lights are on that is just over the top, you can be sure you will be corrected.
Hand over the bump- raise your hand to head level and move it in a 1 foot wide semi circle. This means next. Usually used in the context of directions, but that isn’t a hard and fast rule.
The wiggly why- Begin with your forearm outstretched perpendicular to your body (similar to the wrist of fatalism above). Your palm (if you are using your right hand) facing to the left. Open your fingers a bit and and wiggle the wrist. Wiggle as if having a pole running through the forearm into the tip of the middle finger around which the hand is rotating/wiggling. This is best translated as ?. As the recipient it is your responsibility to know what the question is and how to answer it. I like this one also because if I am distributing the wiggly why the burden of communication completely put on the other person.
Invisible sweaty brow- fairly simple as well. bring all fingers to a point and touch to the forehead. Then throw them down as if discarding a sweaty rag. This means “finished” with the implication of “good riddance,” or “I am through with this/that.”
the 5 minute pinch- bring all 5 fingers to a point. Make sure the point is facing directly up to the ceiling and then tap your thumb against the other 4. This literally means “5 more minutes.” However 5 more minutes means “I need more time.” More time could be anything from 30 seconds (it almost never is) to 1 more month. As the recepient it is your responsibility to understand the increments being discussed (seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks etc.)
For example:
Approaching the restaurant:
Security guard: Flashing hands
Me: bobble head.
Enter the restaurant
Me- point to a table
Server- bobble head.
I sit down
Me: Drinking hand
Server: drinking with raised pinky and raised eyebrows (implying question)
Me: exaggerated frown.
Server: bobble head. 5 minute pinch.
Server brings water.
Me: raised pinky
Server: Wrist of fatalism
Me: Wiggly why (meaning I can’t pee here at this table)
Server: Hand over the bump (motioning toward an adjacent open field).
Returning back from the field to sit down
Me. Invisible sweaty brow
Enjoy meal.
;)
the bobble head- Made famous by the tacky dashboard ornament in your first car. Here it is similar. It looks like you are trying to touch your ears to your neck, but not in a rigid side to side movement. More of a flowing loosening your neck movement. This simply means “I acknowledge that words are coming out of your mouth.” It does not mean yes, or no, or I agree, or even that I am listening to you. I just means "I see that you are talking right now." If you want some clarification, an accented “no?” on the end of your sentence will suffice. If the other party agrees he/she will tell you, if they do not agree, don't understand or weren’t listening you will get another bobble head. Occasionally I have switched to spanish in the middle of my sentence. If they respond with a bobble head I know they don't understand or aren't listening.
the raised pinky- If you make a fist raise it parallel with your shoulder, and stick your pinky straight out, as conspicuously as possible. The means “I have to pee.” technically the 2 fingers (pointer and middle) means I have to poop, but I have never seen that used. In the day to day the raised pinky suffices for both.
the wrist of fatalism- This is my favorite. Start with your forearm perpendicular to your body (elbow bent at 90 degrees) palm facing down. Then quickly rotate the wrist until the palm faces up. During the rotation though the pinky and ring finger should be brought in, and the other 3 left out. This is technically is followed by the phrase “what to do?” (except the words sound more like “watudu”), but often the words are left out. This can mean many things. Everything from I don’t know/care to you can pee wherever you want. If you are asking someone a question and are answered by the wrist flick you are free to proceed however you would like.
Drinking hand- This is tricky and I have messed it up a few times. You raise your hand to your mouth as if holding an invisible glass. As it gets close to the mouth you shake the hand. This literally means Drink? Depending on the context it can be do you wanna get a coke with me? or would you like some water? or did you have something to drink? However if the pinky finger begins to inch its way out from the other 3 the gesture will take on a new meaning. Said motion with an extended pinky means “shall we get a beer?” The extended pinky means the drinking will be exclusively alcoholic. Now I work in a very conservative organization, and going up to someone during working hours and gesturing “do you want a beer?” when I mean to say “do you want to go to the canteen and get a soda with me” can be a serious problem.
The flashing hands- Extend one hand (preferably the dominant one) and bring all 5 fingers to a point facing in front of you. Then open (not quite fully though) and close your hand a number of times. People on the road were doing this to me for a week before I had any clue. In brazil this means there are too many people on the bike, and my brazilian friends were completely lost (it is not uncommon to see 4-6 people on a motorcycle). It really only means that your lights are on. It is funny to me because many other abnormal things (cows in the road, people driving into oncoming traffic, pimped auto rickshaws etc.) don’t even receive a second glance. However if your head lights are on that is just over the top, you can be sure you will be corrected.
Hand over the bump- raise your hand to head level and move it in a 1 foot wide semi circle. This means next. Usually used in the context of directions, but that isn’t a hard and fast rule.
The wiggly why- Begin with your forearm outstretched perpendicular to your body (similar to the wrist of fatalism above). Your palm (if you are using your right hand) facing to the left. Open your fingers a bit and and wiggle the wrist. Wiggle as if having a pole running through the forearm into the tip of the middle finger around which the hand is rotating/wiggling. This is best translated as ?. As the recipient it is your responsibility to know what the question is and how to answer it. I like this one also because if I am distributing the wiggly why the burden of communication completely put on the other person.
Invisible sweaty brow- fairly simple as well. bring all fingers to a point and touch to the forehead. Then throw them down as if discarding a sweaty rag. This means “finished” with the implication of “good riddance,” or “I am through with this/that.”
the 5 minute pinch- bring all 5 fingers to a point. Make sure the point is facing directly up to the ceiling and then tap your thumb against the other 4. This literally means “5 more minutes.” However 5 more minutes means “I need more time.” More time could be anything from 30 seconds (it almost never is) to 1 more month. As the recepient it is your responsibility to understand the increments being discussed (seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks etc.)
For example:
Approaching the restaurant:
Security guard: Flashing hands
Me: bobble head.
Enter the restaurant
Me- point to a table
Server- bobble head.
I sit down
Me: Drinking hand
Server: drinking with raised pinky and raised eyebrows (implying question)
Me: exaggerated frown.
Server: bobble head. 5 minute pinch.
Server brings water.
Me: raised pinky
Server: Wrist of fatalism
Me: Wiggly why (meaning I can’t pee here at this table)
Server: Hand over the bump (motioning toward an adjacent open field).
Returning back from the field to sit down
Me. Invisible sweaty brow
Enjoy meal.
;)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Truth or Comfort
I have a prayer. Before I tell you what I am praying for myself though I need to explain the background.
For the last year I have been intrigued by our ability to lie to ourselves. I have seen some people blissfully remain in their own fabrication of reality (in which of course they successful, needed, wise, informed etc.), with no apparent intention to find "truth." For example, take a debate between Allister McGrath (a leading Christian apologist) and Christopher Hitchens (a leading atheist apologist. I can guarantee you that 9 times out of ten, regardless of which debater "won," both Christians and Atheists will leave more sure of their previous beliefs.
Another example. I have never met someone that thought they were a below average teacher. However we could all attest to the fact that not only would logic demand there be many such teachers, but we have all suffered through their classes at one point.
Last example. I have never met a worker come off the "field" and say "I blew it." I could have done more. I could have adapted better, I was selfish, and a burden to those I worked with. However from this side I can see that some in all honesty would qualify as the proverbial "John Mark." These people have no idea though. They will return to their homes, and churches, and friends and accept all the praise and honor due to the most seasoned worker.
I have asked why is this? How can I be sure I am not self deceived. I initially thought I would pursue fellowship and community in an effort to prevent it. However I have seen people that are only able to remain self deceived with the help of "community." (this is how we can all leave an unproductive meeting excited at what we "accomplished").
Here is what I have concluded. We love comfort more than truth. We all do it. And if we love comfort more than truth we will gladly sacrifice truth for it.
I do want to be clear that this is something we all do. I am not writing this thinking of one person or situation. It is something I have seen in my own heart. When someone annoys me I can walk away and let that seed of irritation grow into some huge scenario completely devoid of truth and severed from reality, but in which, to my delight, I am justified in my irritation.
So my prayer. "Lord cause me to love truth more than comfort. Cause me to think rightly of myself and the world around me." I have a growing respect for those ahead of me that I see are doing this [increasingly difficult task] well
Some books I am reading on this:
Miroslav Volf "The End of Memory. Remembering Rightly in a Violent World"
Gregg A. Ten Elshof "I Told Me So. Self Deception and the Christian Life."
r
For the last year I have been intrigued by our ability to lie to ourselves. I have seen some people blissfully remain in their own fabrication of reality (in which of course they successful, needed, wise, informed etc.), with no apparent intention to find "truth." For example, take a debate between Allister McGrath (a leading Christian apologist) and Christopher Hitchens (a leading atheist apologist. I can guarantee you that 9 times out of ten, regardless of which debater "won," both Christians and Atheists will leave more sure of their previous beliefs.
Another example. I have never met someone that thought they were a below average teacher. However we could all attest to the fact that not only would logic demand there be many such teachers, but we have all suffered through their classes at one point.
Last example. I have never met a worker come off the "field" and say "I blew it." I could have done more. I could have adapted better, I was selfish, and a burden to those I worked with. However from this side I can see that some in all honesty would qualify as the proverbial "John Mark." These people have no idea though. They will return to their homes, and churches, and friends and accept all the praise and honor due to the most seasoned worker.
I have asked why is this? How can I be sure I am not self deceived. I initially thought I would pursue fellowship and community in an effort to prevent it. However I have seen people that are only able to remain self deceived with the help of "community." (this is how we can all leave an unproductive meeting excited at what we "accomplished").
Here is what I have concluded. We love comfort more than truth. We all do it. And if we love comfort more than truth we will gladly sacrifice truth for it.
I do want to be clear that this is something we all do. I am not writing this thinking of one person or situation. It is something I have seen in my own heart. When someone annoys me I can walk away and let that seed of irritation grow into some huge scenario completely devoid of truth and severed from reality, but in which, to my delight, I am justified in my irritation.
So my prayer. "Lord cause me to love truth more than comfort. Cause me to think rightly of myself and the world around me." I have a growing respect for those ahead of me that I see are doing this [increasingly difficult task] well
Some books I am reading on this:
Miroslav Volf "The End of Memory. Remembering Rightly in a Violent World"
Gregg A. Ten Elshof "I Told Me So. Self Deception and the Christian Life."
r
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Back!
Although travel has become increasingly accessible over the last few decades it is still taxing. Even more taxing still is traveling on a budget. This is where I find myself.
I flew out of Los Angeles at 7 am on monday morning. Said goodbye to the city that can rivals all others in both "green consciousness" and pollution and made my way to Atlanta. I spent only a few hours in Atlanta, the majority of which was trying to get access to my bag that had been checked through to Johannesburg. I had planned to carry the bag on, but at the last minute they made me check it. I had over $200 in it, and the keys to my apartment- both of which I was sure would be stolen in Johannesburg (they were). Long story short they would not let me get it. So I took off my belt, shoes, hoodie, ipod, removed my phone, change, opened my bag, removed my laptop and waited in line to go through security (again). I flew out of Atlanta Monday evening, arriving in Johannesburg over 15 flying hours later (not including time change). The entire flight I just wanted to be in India. I didnt want to read, or watch a movie, or sleep- I just wanted to be in India. Unfortunately for me, this didnt speed up the flight.
Half way through as I was staring off into space a woman in front of me passed out and fell down in the aisle. I looked around and everyone was asleep and the flight attendants were in the back. I didn't really think much, I just unbuckled, knocked my "personal t.v." to the side, nearly tripped over the blanket and dropped the books and ipod that were in my lap before reaching her (10 feet from me). As I got to her I realized "oh crap, I have no idea what to do," so i did the only thing I could remember from first aid/CPR class 5 years ago- ask her if she can hear me. She could and thankfully thats when someone intelligent came up and I could sink back to the haven of my media induced coma.
I arrived in Johannesburg and had a 6 hour layover. In line I met a guy my age named Omar. He was a malay guy who was getting his masters degree in Islamic Studies in Durban. Cool kid, very devout muslim, good talk. From there I flew to Doha Qatar where I endured a riveting 14 hour layover. At one point I fell asleep in a chair with my cheek pressed up against the abnormally high armrest. I woke up literally 8 hours later. I had actually some how cut the inside of my cheek with my teeth while I was asleep and had a huge sore inside (there is still an incision I strangely enough feel the need to stick my tongue in from time to time).
From there got on the most "culturally charged" flight of my journey. Doha to Hyderabad. This flight was quite chaotic as most of the people did not see the need to sit in their assigned seats. They figured we should function on a first come first serve basis. This lead to making the (tiny) aisle walk way a 2-way street. good times. I landed, and got home at 5 am today (thursday). It is now 11:37 am and I am ready for bed.
All that to say- I made it. I am back [finally]. If I was made of cash I would have flown direct from the states, but... im not.
peace,
r
I flew out of Los Angeles at 7 am on monday morning. Said goodbye to the city that can rivals all others in both "green consciousness" and pollution and made my way to Atlanta. I spent only a few hours in Atlanta, the majority of which was trying to get access to my bag that had been checked through to Johannesburg. I had planned to carry the bag on, but at the last minute they made me check it. I had over $200 in it, and the keys to my apartment- both of which I was sure would be stolen in Johannesburg (they were). Long story short they would not let me get it. So I took off my belt, shoes, hoodie, ipod, removed my phone, change, opened my bag, removed my laptop and waited in line to go through security (again). I flew out of Atlanta Monday evening, arriving in Johannesburg over 15 flying hours later (not including time change). The entire flight I just wanted to be in India. I didnt want to read, or watch a movie, or sleep- I just wanted to be in India. Unfortunately for me, this didnt speed up the flight.
Half way through as I was staring off into space a woman in front of me passed out and fell down in the aisle. I looked around and everyone was asleep and the flight attendants were in the back. I didn't really think much, I just unbuckled, knocked my "personal t.v." to the side, nearly tripped over the blanket and dropped the books and ipod that were in my lap before reaching her (10 feet from me). As I got to her I realized "oh crap, I have no idea what to do," so i did the only thing I could remember from first aid/CPR class 5 years ago- ask her if she can hear me. She could and thankfully thats when someone intelligent came up and I could sink back to the haven of my media induced coma.
I arrived in Johannesburg and had a 6 hour layover. In line I met a guy my age named Omar. He was a malay guy who was getting his masters degree in Islamic Studies in Durban. Cool kid, very devout muslim, good talk. From there I flew to Doha Qatar where I endured a riveting 14 hour layover. At one point I fell asleep in a chair with my cheek pressed up against the abnormally high armrest. I woke up literally 8 hours later. I had actually some how cut the inside of my cheek with my teeth while I was asleep and had a huge sore inside (there is still an incision I strangely enough feel the need to stick my tongue in from time to time).
From there got on the most "culturally charged" flight of my journey. Doha to Hyderabad. This flight was quite chaotic as most of the people did not see the need to sit in their assigned seats. They figured we should function on a first come first serve basis. This lead to making the (tiny) aisle walk way a 2-way street. good times. I landed, and got home at 5 am today (thursday). It is now 11:37 am and I am ready for bed.
All that to say- I made it. I am back [finally]. If I was made of cash I would have flown direct from the states, but... im not.
peace,
r
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Live from Los Angeles
I am nearing the end of my time in the states. I am excited to get back, ready to hit the ground running and get back to "normal life."
I have spent the last 3 days in the car. My brother and I drove from Greenville SC, to Los Angeles. It took us a few days but we both had a great time. Was able to visit with friends at every stop. He is coming out here for college and my friend is getting married so I bummed a ride with him. Planning to spend a few days here, before traveling back.
It looks like I will be able to hit the ground running. We have conferences, and classes planned through december- cant wait!
I have spent the last 3 days in the car. My brother and I drove from Greenville SC, to Los Angeles. It took us a few days but we both had a great time. Was able to visit with friends at every stop. He is coming out here for college and my friend is getting married so I bummed a ride with him. Planning to spend a few days here, before traveling back.
It looks like I will be able to hit the ground running. We have conferences, and classes planned through december- cant wait!
Saturday, September 04, 2010
'merica
This last week I spent some time at a local High School discussing what it means to be a Dalit. My goal was just to widen their perspective a bit and show them what people their age are facing. I was hardly 16 when I left America for the first time and spent a month working in the slums in India, so I think they have a greater capacity for change than they are sometimes given credit.
I spoke to 6 different classes 1 hour each. I had a lot of fun, but in all honesty by the end the last thing I wanted to talk about was India (I had just spent 6 hours doing it). During my last class a boy on the front row asked a question.
I will never forget one of my first encounters with the best professor I had in College. First day of class he said something along the lines of "you were always told there are no stupid questions. Thats not true. there are many stupid questions so think before you ask." Mr. front row asked me a stupid question last week.
While I was talking his hand shot up in the air while his forehead wrinkled with irritation. His predicament was "If we are Americans shouldn't we just focus on making America a better place? There are many needs here." The first time, like a good teacher, I somewhat blew him off and moved on. However, to my disappointment, he was more intelligent than that and did exactly what I would have done if I was him- keep asking over and over. Eventually I calmly smiled and said some of us would rather help those in need instead of making sure we have enough gas for our huge SUV's and entire aisles full of different types of bread."
It is interesting what you notice returning and those were 2 of mine. It was a pretty stupid response, but oh well. I realized though that his question must be answered. I also realized that it is most likely his parents that taught him that.
First of all those of us that are Christians are not first Americans. We do not pledge our allegiance to a flag, a nation or a president but a to a king and a kingdom. His kingdom is much greater (in every sense of the word) than the 50 states.
Second we are humans. Regardless of your nationality or religion everyone holds to some form of understanding as to what it means to be human. For example if I were to be found having a slave in my home town of Greenville everyone would be appalled. Why? Because it is inhumane. They would be upset because that person deserves to be treated better. I take it one step further and say if that is happening 10,000 miles away you should be equally appalled because they are people (regardless of the culture they are in).
In short my heart breaks for that kid. His parents have taught him things about us as a nation and his role in it that have led him to a selfish ethnocentrism and he is the one that is going to suffer because of it.
I spoke to 6 different classes 1 hour each. I had a lot of fun, but in all honesty by the end the last thing I wanted to talk about was India (I had just spent 6 hours doing it). During my last class a boy on the front row asked a question.
I will never forget one of my first encounters with the best professor I had in College. First day of class he said something along the lines of "you were always told there are no stupid questions. Thats not true. there are many stupid questions so think before you ask." Mr. front row asked me a stupid question last week.
While I was talking his hand shot up in the air while his forehead wrinkled with irritation. His predicament was "If we are Americans shouldn't we just focus on making America a better place? There are many needs here." The first time, like a good teacher, I somewhat blew him off and moved on. However, to my disappointment, he was more intelligent than that and did exactly what I would have done if I was him- keep asking over and over. Eventually I calmly smiled and said some of us would rather help those in need instead of making sure we have enough gas for our huge SUV's and entire aisles full of different types of bread."
It is interesting what you notice returning and those were 2 of mine. It was a pretty stupid response, but oh well. I realized though that his question must be answered. I also realized that it is most likely his parents that taught him that.
First of all those of us that are Christians are not first Americans. We do not pledge our allegiance to a flag, a nation or a president but a to a king and a kingdom. His kingdom is much greater (in every sense of the word) than the 50 states.
Second we are humans. Regardless of your nationality or religion everyone holds to some form of understanding as to what it means to be human. For example if I were to be found having a slave in my home town of Greenville everyone would be appalled. Why? Because it is inhumane. They would be upset because that person deserves to be treated better. I take it one step further and say if that is happening 10,000 miles away you should be equally appalled because they are people (regardless of the culture they are in).
In short my heart breaks for that kid. His parents have taught him things about us as a nation and his role in it that have led him to a selfish ethnocentrism and he is the one that is going to suffer because of it.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
A Day in the Life of a Dalit
Tomorrow and Thursday I will be speaking at a local public school. I have been asked to visit a few classes to discuss Social Injustice in India. I have some pictures, and a little presentation prepared that should last about 30 minutes or so. The total time they are giving me is an hour each class so for the second half I will be giving them some group work. I plan to break the students into groups of 3-5 people and then give them a scenario that many people find themselves in. My goal is to make the students think outside of our experiences, and put themselves in the shoes of the oppressed. Below are the five scenarios I am giving them.
1) Both you and your spouse are Dalits. Because of this the village you are living in has been taking away your farm land and charging you extra fees for things they don’t charge other people. Eventually its gets to the point that you have almost nothing. You would like to leave and go somewhere else, but you have no money to get there, and no skill except farming. You also have 1 thirteen year old daughter who is malnourished because you can’t afford food. Although you have done all you can, her health is declining. One day a man offers to marry your daughter. He is about 25 years older than her (she is only 13), and you know very well that he will abuse her sexually, physically, and emotionally. However he will give her food, and if she stays here she will continue to starve. What do you do?
This is actually a true story. The name of the little girl was Phoolan Devi. Her parents did in fact allow the man to marry her. She was abused so much she tried many times to run away back home. However if her parents allowed her back it could have easily lead to the husbands family trying to kill her or her family for shaming him. So they consistently sent her back to him until she ran away from the village all together.
2) Both you and your spouse are Dalits. You both work very hard every day but still are barely surviving. In order to have enough money to survive you had to take your 13 year old son out of school to work at a restaurant bussing tables. You hated to do it, but he was starving and this is the only way your family can make enough money to eat. One day a very well to do man comes to your village. He tells you and your spouse that he sees how much you are struggling, and has a solution for you. He offers to give you a large sum of money on loan. He then offers to train your son to work for him in a professional job in the capital city. This is the kind of opportunity you have been praying for, but although you are familiar with the company you don’t know this man very well. What do you do?
This is a very common story. The unfortunate thing is it is never as good as it seems. This boy will be taken to the city and forced to work 18 hour days for very little pay. He will be forced to pay off the loan given to his parents, but will be charged interest at such a rate he will never be able to pay it off. His task-masters threaten to harm his family if he tries to run away.
3) You are a 15 year old Dalit girl. Although your family was unable to provide you with an education or a job you are all very close to each other. Life has been difficult, but not impossible. One day a lady in the village that you know very well tells you that jobs in America can pay as much as $50 a day (your family might make that in a month). The woman explains that she has friends that can get you to America but it will cost $4,000 to get there (passport, visa, plane ticket etc.). The woman is kind enough to loan you the money. This is the kind of opportunity you have been hoping for and it would take care of your entire family, but America is very far away and a $4,000 loan is very expensive. What do you do?
This is a common story as well. Unfortunately it is extremely unlikely she will ever make it to America. What happens is instead she will end up in brothel. The "owners" will tell her she can leave when she pays her debts, but again for the same reasons as #3 it is very difficult to pay of the loan. She will also be told that her family will be harmed if she tries to escape.
4) You are a Dalit man. You have been married for 15 years and have 2 boys. Your family has lived in the same village for generations and you have been able to make a decent living farming. However a few months ago your wife became very sick. You have no idea what it is but she can hardly get out of bed. Although the local hospital is supposed to be free the doctors have demanded bribes before they look at her. On top of that the medicines they prescribe are very costly. Eventually you had to sell all your land and you have almost nothing left, but your wife still needs 2-3 more months of medication before she is cured. An upper class man in the village offers to give you a loan that is just enough to cover the costs, however you have to send your oldest son to work for him in order to pay it off. You know it will be close to slavery for your son so what do you do? Your wife or your son?
Again not an uncommon story. Unfortunately there is no easy solution. It is easy for us to point our fingers and explain how horrible it is for someone to "sell" their children, but many of these people have sent their children off with tears in their eyes because they didn't know what else to do.
5) You are a Dalit woman who found out she was HIV+. Although you were faithful to your husband your whole life your husband wasn’t and you got it from him. You are breast feeding your baby daughter and the doctor tells you that you must stop otherwise although it is not guaranteed the baby could get it also. However bottle feeding is NEVER practiced and people will assume you have HIV. If they find out you are HIV+ you will be kicked out out of the village with your baby, and your husband will disown you. Being kicked out of the village means that you have no means of survival (for you and your baby) except prostitution. What do you do?
This was actually edited. the full version is that many times the husband will keep seeing prostitutes and then refuse to wear a condom with his wife. So she will get many different forms of HIV each of which working differently to destroy her body. When it does come out that she is infected her husband may blame her for both of their infections.
The purpose of these scenarios is not to shock, but rather to give people a different perspective. To think outside of ourselves and put ourselves in their shoes if only briefly. I hope that after walking in their shoes for even just a moment it will lead us to compassion, and a desire to bring hope to the hopeless.
r
1) Both you and your spouse are Dalits. Because of this the village you are living in has been taking away your farm land and charging you extra fees for things they don’t charge other people. Eventually its gets to the point that you have almost nothing. You would like to leave and go somewhere else, but you have no money to get there, and no skill except farming. You also have 1 thirteen year old daughter who is malnourished because you can’t afford food. Although you have done all you can, her health is declining. One day a man offers to marry your daughter. He is about 25 years older than her (she is only 13), and you know very well that he will abuse her sexually, physically, and emotionally. However he will give her food, and if she stays here she will continue to starve. What do you do?
This is actually a true story. The name of the little girl was Phoolan Devi. Her parents did in fact allow the man to marry her. She was abused so much she tried many times to run away back home. However if her parents allowed her back it could have easily lead to the husbands family trying to kill her or her family for shaming him. So they consistently sent her back to him until she ran away from the village all together.
2) Both you and your spouse are Dalits. You both work very hard every day but still are barely surviving. In order to have enough money to survive you had to take your 13 year old son out of school to work at a restaurant bussing tables. You hated to do it, but he was starving and this is the only way your family can make enough money to eat. One day a very well to do man comes to your village. He tells you and your spouse that he sees how much you are struggling, and has a solution for you. He offers to give you a large sum of money on loan. He then offers to train your son to work for him in a professional job in the capital city. This is the kind of opportunity you have been praying for, but although you are familiar with the company you don’t know this man very well. What do you do?
This is a very common story. The unfortunate thing is it is never as good as it seems. This boy will be taken to the city and forced to work 18 hour days for very little pay. He will be forced to pay off the loan given to his parents, but will be charged interest at such a rate he will never be able to pay it off. His task-masters threaten to harm his family if he tries to run away.
3) You are a 15 year old Dalit girl. Although your family was unable to provide you with an education or a job you are all very close to each other. Life has been difficult, but not impossible. One day a lady in the village that you know very well tells you that jobs in America can pay as much as $50 a day (your family might make that in a month). The woman explains that she has friends that can get you to America but it will cost $4,000 to get there (passport, visa, plane ticket etc.). The woman is kind enough to loan you the money. This is the kind of opportunity you have been hoping for and it would take care of your entire family, but America is very far away and a $4,000 loan is very expensive. What do you do?
This is a common story as well. Unfortunately it is extremely unlikely she will ever make it to America. What happens is instead she will end up in brothel. The "owners" will tell her she can leave when she pays her debts, but again for the same reasons as #3 it is very difficult to pay of the loan. She will also be told that her family will be harmed if she tries to escape.
4) You are a Dalit man. You have been married for 15 years and have 2 boys. Your family has lived in the same village for generations and you have been able to make a decent living farming. However a few months ago your wife became very sick. You have no idea what it is but she can hardly get out of bed. Although the local hospital is supposed to be free the doctors have demanded bribes before they look at her. On top of that the medicines they prescribe are very costly. Eventually you had to sell all your land and you have almost nothing left, but your wife still needs 2-3 more months of medication before she is cured. An upper class man in the village offers to give you a loan that is just enough to cover the costs, however you have to send your oldest son to work for him in order to pay it off. You know it will be close to slavery for your son so what do you do? Your wife or your son?
Again not an uncommon story. Unfortunately there is no easy solution. It is easy for us to point our fingers and explain how horrible it is for someone to "sell" their children, but many of these people have sent their children off with tears in their eyes because they didn't know what else to do.
5) You are a Dalit woman who found out she was HIV+. Although you were faithful to your husband your whole life your husband wasn’t and you got it from him. You are breast feeding your baby daughter and the doctor tells you that you must stop otherwise although it is not guaranteed the baby could get it also. However bottle feeding is NEVER practiced and people will assume you have HIV. If they find out you are HIV+ you will be kicked out out of the village with your baby, and your husband will disown you. Being kicked out of the village means that you have no means of survival (for you and your baby) except prostitution. What do you do?
This was actually edited. the full version is that many times the husband will keep seeing prostitutes and then refuse to wear a condom with his wife. So she will get many different forms of HIV each of which working differently to destroy her body. When it does come out that she is infected her husband may blame her for both of their infections.
The purpose of these scenarios is not to shock, but rather to give people a different perspective. To think outside of ourselves and put ourselves in their shoes if only briefly. I hope that after walking in their shoes for even just a moment it will lead us to compassion, and a desire to bring hope to the hopeless.
r
Monday, August 23, 2010
Re-entry
I have been in the states fora few 2 weeks now and I am in the middle of what many call “re-entry.” Although I am not staying here, there is still an adjustment process. It is somewhat difficult to put my finger on exactly, as the struggle is very subtle (but persistent). In many ways I have grown accustom to the way of life in India which is very different to that of America. I can give you a few examples of adjustment the last few days.
I still have to make sure I am driving on the right [pun intended] side of the road. At almost every intersection I have to double check to make sure I didn’t turn into oncoming traffic.
I met a man two days ago that was imprisoned for a month for driving without a license. Rules and regulations in India all have exceptions and generally more fluid than our black and white policies here.
I am not used to eating so much. We eat a lot. Often.
I am not used to the transparency. India is a shame based culture and is naturally less open and vulnerable than American culture.
Topics of conversation. Because I have been gone a year I haven’t followed popular t.v. shows, heard the new music on the radio, or seen any of the previews for movies in theater. These are a big part of our culture and it can sometimes be difficult to relate on these issues that were once very easy and natural for me.
I am also not sure how to answer the question “how was India.” I can say “good” but that comes so short of doing justice to my experience that I wonder if its worth even saying. It is difficult to explain something that is so vastly different from what is considered “normal” here. It is like explaining to a fish what it is like to be dry.
I thought I was doing really well. I like America, I love these people, my church, my family. It is so refreshing to be here and hear how the Lord has been working the last year here. The last 2 days though I have had a headache, but I wasn’t sure why as I never get these. Yesterday I realized that I am tense. I realized this because I had been clenching my jaw all day which was causing some pretty rough headaches.
I still have to make sure I am driving on the right [pun intended] side of the road. At almost every intersection I have to double check to make sure I didn’t turn into oncoming traffic.
I met a man two days ago that was imprisoned for a month for driving without a license. Rules and regulations in India all have exceptions and generally more fluid than our black and white policies here.
I am not used to eating so much. We eat a lot. Often.
I am not used to the transparency. India is a shame based culture and is naturally less open and vulnerable than American culture.
Topics of conversation. Because I have been gone a year I haven’t followed popular t.v. shows, heard the new music on the radio, or seen any of the previews for movies in theater. These are a big part of our culture and it can sometimes be difficult to relate on these issues that were once very easy and natural for me.
I am also not sure how to answer the question “how was India.” I can say “good” but that comes so short of doing justice to my experience that I wonder if its worth even saying. It is difficult to explain something that is so vastly different from what is considered “normal” here. It is like explaining to a fish what it is like to be dry.
I thought I was doing really well. I like America, I love these people, my church, my family. It is so refreshing to be here and hear how the Lord has been working the last year here. The last 2 days though I have had a headache, but I wasn’t sure why as I never get these. Yesterday I realized that I am tense. I realized this because I had been clenching my jaw all day which was causing some pretty rough headaches.
Visas and Funerals
A few weeks back I sat down with one of my leaders to discuss the increasing difficulties of my visa. The government has now decided that every 6 months not only do I have to leave the country, but I have to be out for a total of 2 months. We have been waiting to see if this was actually implemented and if so how strictly and as time has progressed we have seen that this is in fact the case.
We discussed all the details and mutually agreed that it would be most beneficial (and cheaper in the long run) if I applied for a different visa. In order to do that I had to apply in person in Washington DC.
I had purchased my tickets to Johannesburg a long time before hand but added on a 1 week trip to the states before returning to India. I was never sure exactly what the Lord was planning through the whole ordeal but was (and am) confident he had something specific in mind.
Strangely while I was in South Africa a handful of peculiar circumstances made us re-visit our decision for me to get a new visa. We decided that my applying for a new visa would add a new element of risk and scrutiny to the work and we decided it wasn't worth that scrutiny. (I know thats vague- talk to me in person).
Within a few hours of deciding this my grandma passed away. So instead of traveling to DC for a new visa (which was no longer necessary), I went directly to Chicago to help get everything ready for the funeral. This in itself is a blessing because if I hadn’t been on my way back to work out my visa I would not have been able to attend her funeral
What this means though is that I will be in the states for substantially longer than any of us planned. I have not rebooked my flights yet, but we are looking at me flying back out mid-september (because India requires I stay outside the country for a total of 2 months).
So I do ask for your prayers. That the Lord leads me in his purposes for my time in the states. There are many many things that I could do, but I want to be purposeful with this new found time that I have. I also need prayer against “reverse culture shock.” I have been out of the country for a year now and have grown accustom to a different way of life. Yesterday I gasped as my dad turned to drive down the right side of the road, the day before I grew irritated with the rigidity of the airline officials and customs officers, and today I found myself in Target staring at an advertisement (eyes big as saucers). It is honestly not that difficult yet, but I need to depend on the Spirit as I move forward.
Thank you for your prayers, and I hope to see you soon.
We discussed all the details and mutually agreed that it would be most beneficial (and cheaper in the long run) if I applied for a different visa. In order to do that I had to apply in person in Washington DC.
I had purchased my tickets to Johannesburg a long time before hand but added on a 1 week trip to the states before returning to India. I was never sure exactly what the Lord was planning through the whole ordeal but was (and am) confident he had something specific in mind.
Strangely while I was in South Africa a handful of peculiar circumstances made us re-visit our decision for me to get a new visa. We decided that my applying for a new visa would add a new element of risk and scrutiny to the work and we decided it wasn't worth that scrutiny. (I know thats vague- talk to me in person).
Within a few hours of deciding this my grandma passed away. So instead of traveling to DC for a new visa (which was no longer necessary), I went directly to Chicago to help get everything ready for the funeral. This in itself is a blessing because if I hadn’t been on my way back to work out my visa I would not have been able to attend her funeral
What this means though is that I will be in the states for substantially longer than any of us planned. I have not rebooked my flights yet, but we are looking at me flying back out mid-september (because India requires I stay outside the country for a total of 2 months).
So I do ask for your prayers. That the Lord leads me in his purposes for my time in the states. There are many many things that I could do, but I want to be purposeful with this new found time that I have. I also need prayer against “reverse culture shock.” I have been out of the country for a year now and have grown accustom to a different way of life. Yesterday I gasped as my dad turned to drive down the right side of the road, the day before I grew irritated with the rigidity of the airline officials and customs officers, and today I found myself in Target staring at an advertisement (eyes big as saucers). It is honestly not that difficult yet, but I need to depend on the Spirit as I move forward.
Thank you for your prayers, and I hope to see you soon.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
June-July
Hi there. June is over, i can't believe it. My mom and aunt were able to visit for a bit in June which was a huge blessing. We traveled around a bit, showed them what all was going on here, went to the Taj Mahal etc.
Also during june we had our ELT training. 99 students from all over the country came to the base for leadership training. it has been great, lots of good biblical/practical teaching. The program ends today and by sunday they will be traveling home.
Also I will be leaving the country for a bit next saturday. Because of my visa I am required to leave the country every 2 months. it seems far, but i will actually reach there quicker than it took me to reach Nepal last February (last February involved a 30+ hour train ride). I have a friend that has been working there for a few years so it will be good to see the work going on there.
Pray for me for safe, uneventful travels!
Also during june we had our ELT training. 99 students from all over the country came to the base for leadership training. it has been great, lots of good biblical/practical teaching. The program ends today and by sunday they will be traveling home.
Also I will be leaving the country for a bit next saturday. Because of my visa I am required to leave the country every 2 months. it seems far, but i will actually reach there quicker than it took me to reach Nepal last February (last February involved a 30+ hour train ride). I have a friend that has been working there for a few years so it will be good to see the work going on there.
Pray for me for safe, uneventful travels!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Slums and Surfing
The term slum here means something vastly different than the way we use it in the states. What we call a slum in the US is called “middle class” here. Here a slum is a conglomeration of mud/dung brick shanties all shimmied adjacent to one another in an effort to share walls. There is no water or electricity and all the sewage runs through the streets. Children when fully clothed are still nearly naked, all of which have no hope for an education (yet). The average salary: 1-2 dollars per 12-14 hour work day. This is a slum.
Today I went surfing. We are a few hundred miles from the coast, but one of the local resorts has recently opened a “surf simulator,” where they make a wave that you can legitimately surf on. Today was 106 degrees (that is considered “cool” for this time of year) so my So-Cal born roommate and I drove out there to pay a visit to the “Flow-Rider.”
As you reach the peak of the wave you can feel the rush of dropping in, but you can also see the slum 200 feet from you. As we enjoyed the cool water and the fun of surfing, a few hundred feet from us were people that were only worried about feeding their children for another day. We spent roughly $10 for an afternoon of surfing- but that is an entire weeks pay for them.
I have hesitated for sometime to post something like this, because I don’t have a solution. However this illustrates my greatest struggle here thus far. The inequality is horrifying. On the way to my apartment you will pass a Mercedes dealership. The Mercedes sign happens to serve as the corner post for a small tea stall. This tea stall is across the street from a very large slum- literally in the shadow of a billboard advertising “Luxury Villas.”
So what do we do? Is it wrong to drive a Mercedes, or live in a luxury villa? Or in my case is it wrong to spend $10 to surf for the afternoon? Is it wrong to give your children a good education, to have insurance, or proper medical care? Is it wrong to have running water and electricity?
See the thing is most of us are willing to draw a line somewhere, but it is conveniently in a place we haven’t yet crossed (and as we near it, it often suddenly moves). The truth is none of the previously mentioned luxuries are sinful or wrong. However the lawfulness of something has little bearing on its profitability.
I am filthy rich. I have an apartment. I have water. I have electricity. I have a motorcycle. I have insurance. I have an education. There is an inequality that frankly even in my most valiant efforts will never be surmounted.
This is my struggle. Please pray for me. I don’t think God made me to simply surf and enjoy life, but I also can not say that he is leading me to live in utter poverty simply because others do. Pray that he leads in a way that I am able to best serve, love and represent him to the world.
Thanks,
r
Today I went surfing. We are a few hundred miles from the coast, but one of the local resorts has recently opened a “surf simulator,” where they make a wave that you can legitimately surf on. Today was 106 degrees (that is considered “cool” for this time of year) so my So-Cal born roommate and I drove out there to pay a visit to the “Flow-Rider.”
As you reach the peak of the wave you can feel the rush of dropping in, but you can also see the slum 200 feet from you. As we enjoyed the cool water and the fun of surfing, a few hundred feet from us were people that were only worried about feeding their children for another day. We spent roughly $10 for an afternoon of surfing- but that is an entire weeks pay for them.
I have hesitated for sometime to post something like this, because I don’t have a solution. However this illustrates my greatest struggle here thus far. The inequality is horrifying. On the way to my apartment you will pass a Mercedes dealership. The Mercedes sign happens to serve as the corner post for a small tea stall. This tea stall is across the street from a very large slum- literally in the shadow of a billboard advertising “Luxury Villas.”
So what do we do? Is it wrong to drive a Mercedes, or live in a luxury villa? Or in my case is it wrong to spend $10 to surf for the afternoon? Is it wrong to give your children a good education, to have insurance, or proper medical care? Is it wrong to have running water and electricity?
See the thing is most of us are willing to draw a line somewhere, but it is conveniently in a place we haven’t yet crossed (and as we near it, it often suddenly moves). The truth is none of the previously mentioned luxuries are sinful or wrong. However the lawfulness of something has little bearing on its profitability.
I am filthy rich. I have an apartment. I have water. I have electricity. I have a motorcycle. I have insurance. I have an education. There is an inequality that frankly even in my most valiant efforts will never be surmounted.
This is my struggle. Please pray for me. I don’t think God made me to simply surf and enjoy life, but I also can not say that he is leading me to live in utter poverty simply because others do. Pray that he leads in a way that I am able to best serve, love and represent him to the world.
Thanks,
r
Thursday, February 04, 2010
the train ride
I had a great blog entry that got deleted. So im going to try to remember, and write it again.
I took a 30+ hour train ride across the country. It was wonderful. Below my bed there was a Punjabi Sikh man. I could tell he was a Sikh because of the meticulous way he wrapped his turban so as to accentuate the prominent bulge of hair that had never been cut. He wore a solid metal silver bracelet to maintain balance and harmony. His graying beard was very long but tied up under his chin in the traditional Sikh way. He shared that he also carried the religious knife, and wore the religious underwear. In reference to said underwear he explained, “I wear the brief kind, not the French kind so if I take pant off now- no problem.” Thankfully he didn’t elaborate.
He was a very kind man, always making sure I was safe and as comfortable as possible. He was very moral, as most Sikhs are, and extraordinarily sincere in his pursuits. The snapshot of his life that I saw on the train was easily more moral than the average Christian’s. At one point I looked at him and was stunned by the fact that same “kind” man would one day look in the face of God in complete horror as he is told that he had never been known by God. So I asked the father for an opportunity to share
About halfway through our journey as I began to mix my rice and curry by hand he said to me “you have a very good opportunity!” I paused and asked him what he was referring to and he explained that he was going to spend the next hour giving me a class on Sikhism. I realized this was an answer to my previous prayer and indulged him. He began like this “6 day creation is bullsh*t. The bible is bullsh*t.” This led into an hour log tirade of head bobbing and hardly intelligible logic.
He continued at breakneck speed for the entirety of the conversation. I noticed he was slightly dehydrated because as he spoke small beads of foamy spit would form on his lower lip until large enough to be launched by the next aspirated syllable. From time to time I would interject loaded questions (i.e. in reference to the statement “everything must be proved scientifically” I asked “can you prove history, math, or even that statement scientifically”) but it was clear he was only waiting for his next moment to begin talking, as his responses rarely had any relevance to my questions.
Eventually I remembered his unhindered candor at the offset of our conversation and thought I would return the favor. So mimicking his boldness and illogical and non-linear progression of thought I gave the good news. I just said it. I didn’t lead into it. I didn’t butter him up for it- I just said it. From my perspective it couldn’t have been more ineffective, however that’s not my role.
The entire conversation reminded me of Psalm 114 and Christ’ allusion to in when he said “they have ears that do not hear, and eyes that do not see.” That Punjabi man had become as lifeless as the idol he worshipped, so much that the words of life (john 6) were anything but intelligible to him. I’m going to do the best dang job that I can- but the Lord changes hearts.
I took a 30+ hour train ride across the country. It was wonderful. Below my bed there was a Punjabi Sikh man. I could tell he was a Sikh because of the meticulous way he wrapped his turban so as to accentuate the prominent bulge of hair that had never been cut. He wore a solid metal silver bracelet to maintain balance and harmony. His graying beard was very long but tied up under his chin in the traditional Sikh way. He shared that he also carried the religious knife, and wore the religious underwear. In reference to said underwear he explained, “I wear the brief kind, not the French kind so if I take pant off now- no problem.” Thankfully he didn’t elaborate.
He was a very kind man, always making sure I was safe and as comfortable as possible. He was very moral, as most Sikhs are, and extraordinarily sincere in his pursuits. The snapshot of his life that I saw on the train was easily more moral than the average Christian’s. At one point I looked at him and was stunned by the fact that same “kind” man would one day look in the face of God in complete horror as he is told that he had never been known by God. So I asked the father for an opportunity to share
About halfway through our journey as I began to mix my rice and curry by hand he said to me “you have a very good opportunity!” I paused and asked him what he was referring to and he explained that he was going to spend the next hour giving me a class on Sikhism. I realized this was an answer to my previous prayer and indulged him. He began like this “6 day creation is bullsh*t. The bible is bullsh*t.” This led into an hour log tirade of head bobbing and hardly intelligible logic.
He continued at breakneck speed for the entirety of the conversation. I noticed he was slightly dehydrated because as he spoke small beads of foamy spit would form on his lower lip until large enough to be launched by the next aspirated syllable. From time to time I would interject loaded questions (i.e. in reference to the statement “everything must be proved scientifically” I asked “can you prove history, math, or even that statement scientifically”) but it was clear he was only waiting for his next moment to begin talking, as his responses rarely had any relevance to my questions.
Eventually I remembered his unhindered candor at the offset of our conversation and thought I would return the favor. So mimicking his boldness and illogical and non-linear progression of thought I gave the good news. I just said it. I didn’t lead into it. I didn’t butter him up for it- I just said it. From my perspective it couldn’t have been more ineffective, however that’s not my role.
The entire conversation reminded me of Psalm 114 and Christ’ allusion to in when he said “they have ears that do not hear, and eyes that do not see.” That Punjabi man had become as lifeless as the idol he worshipped, so much that the words of life (john 6) were anything but intelligible to him. I’m going to do the best dang job that I can- but the Lord changes hearts.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
A cow and a bicycle.
How much is your daughter worth? Now I'm single so i know the question isn't nearly as potent for me, but nevertheless it still strikes a nerve. One of the leaders here gave me a biography of a lady named Phoolan Devi- the Al Capone of the 80's here. I will spare you the details, but when she was 11 she was sold for a cow and a bicycle to a 31 year old man as his wife. The journalist writing the book asked her mother the question that comes to everyone's mind "why?" Her mother could only say one line "it is a scary thing what poverty will make you do." See at the time they were in the middle of a land dispute which as farmers was their only source of income. They were hungry, and had no food for their daughter or themselves. Their rational was, sure this man will abuse her, but is that worse than starving to death? They couldn't provide for their daughter, and this man said he would at least feed her.
Can you imagine asking yourself that question? "which is better for my daughter? To give her to a man that will molest her? or let her starve to death?" I cant.
Now for the sake of honesty and clarity, this although much more common here than in the west is not something that everyone goes through. Not every villager is faced with these issues, but many are. I want you to have an accurate picture rather than simply a dramatic one.
Can you imagine asking yourself that question? "which is better for my daughter? To give her to a man that will molest her? or let her starve to death?" I cant.
Now for the sake of honesty and clarity, this although much more common here than in the west is not something that everyone goes through. Not every villager is faced with these issues, but many are. I want you to have an accurate picture rather than simply a dramatic one.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Instant
Yesterday was christmas for me. My wonderful family sent me a HUGE box of happiness. Things like Mac & Cheese, toilet paper, theology books, Starbucks, and a 'fresh' pair of rainbows. Honestly I don't think there could have been a better care package. They really do know me.
This morning my roommate was looking at everything and he didn't know what any of it was. So I said um, this is a bag of beef jerkey you open the bag and eat it (beef is his favorite so its ok). This is instant grits you just add water. This is instant coffee, you just add water. He looked at me totally confused and said "What does 'instant' mean?" He is very good at english but the idea of instant is completely unheard of here. So I said i would show him.
I boiled some water and added it to instant grits and in about 10 seconds we had breakfast. He was shocked. He said thats food?!?! Already?!?!? Its like magic!! Then I said "do you want a cup of coffee?" and I poured the rest of the boiling water into a cup of instant starbucks (which is actually really good- try it). He laughed and laughed saying "here 1 meal takes one hour to prepare!" Then he said something very interesting he said "no wonder it is so difficult for foreigners to come to my india."
I think he really hit on something there. See I don't care if I have to wait for the bus, or wait at the market or the bazaar or whatever. But because I come from an instant culture it is hard for me to some days to not understand this culture to the extent that i want to. See the first few months I learned a lot of simple things. Don't shake with your left hand, bobbing you head means yes, drive on the left side etc. Those are easy lessons that can be learned instantly. However really understanding and becoming like this culture takes much much longer. Thinking like them, laughing like them, reasoning like them that doesn't happen by "just adding water." It takes time, it takes relationships, and it takes abiding in Christ. These are the things I want to learn/become and often i want it instantly.
A few months ago I was in Philly with my friend Phil. We went to the Art museum. He is very gifted with art (his cd ghosts of the great highway is one of the best i have heard in 2009). Now part of the time i walked around the Museum and said "oh that picture is nice that one is nice" based only on my appreciation of the aesthetics. However when he walked with me he would give me the background behind each painting. Once he explained to me that some of the artists were actually communicating a very strong message (often a very rebellious message) some of the paintings I didn't enjoy previously became remarkably beautiful because I knew how to understand them. I think it is this way with culture also. I can look at it and appreciate it for what is on the surface, but i want to understand why this culture has been painted this way. What each stroke is communicating.
Not sure if that makes a lot of sense, and forgive me if I am taking the analogy too far, but i think it is a fair illustration of life here.
r
This morning my roommate was looking at everything and he didn't know what any of it was. So I said um, this is a bag of beef jerkey you open the bag and eat it (beef is his favorite so its ok). This is instant grits you just add water. This is instant coffee, you just add water. He looked at me totally confused and said "What does 'instant' mean?" He is very good at english but the idea of instant is completely unheard of here. So I said i would show him.
I boiled some water and added it to instant grits and in about 10 seconds we had breakfast. He was shocked. He said thats food?!?! Already?!?!? Its like magic!! Then I said "do you want a cup of coffee?" and I poured the rest of the boiling water into a cup of instant starbucks (which is actually really good- try it). He laughed and laughed saying "here 1 meal takes one hour to prepare!" Then he said something very interesting he said "no wonder it is so difficult for foreigners to come to my india."
I think he really hit on something there. See I don't care if I have to wait for the bus, or wait at the market or the bazaar or whatever. But because I come from an instant culture it is hard for me to some days to not understand this culture to the extent that i want to. See the first few months I learned a lot of simple things. Don't shake with your left hand, bobbing you head means yes, drive on the left side etc. Those are easy lessons that can be learned instantly. However really understanding and becoming like this culture takes much much longer. Thinking like them, laughing like them, reasoning like them that doesn't happen by "just adding water." It takes time, it takes relationships, and it takes abiding in Christ. These are the things I want to learn/become and often i want it instantly.
A few months ago I was in Philly with my friend Phil. We went to the Art museum. He is very gifted with art (his cd ghosts of the great highway is one of the best i have heard in 2009). Now part of the time i walked around the Museum and said "oh that picture is nice that one is nice" based only on my appreciation of the aesthetics. However when he walked with me he would give me the background behind each painting. Once he explained to me that some of the artists were actually communicating a very strong message (often a very rebellious message) some of the paintings I didn't enjoy previously became remarkably beautiful because I knew how to understand them. I think it is this way with culture also. I can look at it and appreciate it for what is on the surface, but i want to understand why this culture has been painted this way. What each stroke is communicating.
Not sure if that makes a lot of sense, and forgive me if I am taking the analogy too far, but i think it is a fair illustration of life here.
r
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The little things add up
I just got back from an American family's home tonight. We had an awesome dinner and really just hung out for awhile. It was very interesting to me because I realized a few things. After we prayed we walked into the kitchen to get food and the first thing I noticed was the size of the cups. I know it's weird but just hold on. See American cups are bigger than the vast majority of other countries. There XL size is our small size. So when I got things for my flat I got "normal" size cups (normal=small, we are the weird ones) and they are made out of stainless steel. Everywhere you go plan on drinking out of like an 8oz cup. However this family brought out the HUGE plastic cups and it was wonderful. Its funny the things that you notice when you don't have them.
Its also funny the things that are insulting/complimentary. An American took me aside and asked "how do you bob your head like that?" The culture here shakes their head a little, ok a lot different. I certainly made an effort when i first got here, but don't really notice it anymore. Apparently I am doing it without thinking, as weird as it sounds thats encouraging to me.
r
Its also funny the things that are insulting/complimentary. An American took me aside and asked "how do you bob your head like that?" The culture here shakes their head a little, ok a lot different. I certainly made an effort when i first got here, but don't really notice it anymore. Apparently I am doing it without thinking, as weird as it sounds thats encouraging to me.
r
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Diwali
So yesterday was Diwali. Well technically it lasts for 3 days, but yesterday was the bulk of the celebrations. Diwali is called the festival of lights and is a celebration of the birth of Krishna. It was amazing. See in the states we shoot off firecrackers, but here they call them "bombs." Now I figured that this was just a linguistic thing and maybe they didnt know the english word for firecrackers, or fireworks. False. Many of these were much closer to bombs than any firecracker I have seen. The streets erupted with "bombs" and everywhere we went we now had to dodge these "bombs."
At one point I had just finished my run for the day. I had my ipod in, hands on my head sucking in air, and my eyes closed. All of the sudden there was a flash of light, a burst of wind and the loudest BANG I have ever heard. Naturally i thought I was dying so I hit the deck only to realize that I had walked into a kid's "bomb" throwing path. The kids thought it was hilarious, and lets be honest it was.
We went into town last night and literally people would set up roman candles, strings of firecrackers EVERYTHING in the road. and we would just drive through. However after that it was time for bed. So about 11pm I settled down to sleep. No No, the "bombs" didn't stop until 7 am the next day. A group of kids thought the best place to blow things up would be right below my bedroom window. soooo i dint really sleep.
Anyway Happy Diwali! (its pronounced D'vall-ee)
At one point I had just finished my run for the day. I had my ipod in, hands on my head sucking in air, and my eyes closed. All of the sudden there was a flash of light, a burst of wind and the loudest BANG I have ever heard. Naturally i thought I was dying so I hit the deck only to realize that I had walked into a kid's "bomb" throwing path. The kids thought it was hilarious, and lets be honest it was.
We went into town last night and literally people would set up roman candles, strings of firecrackers EVERYTHING in the road. and we would just drive through. However after that it was time for bed. So about 11pm I settled down to sleep. No No, the "bombs" didn't stop until 7 am the next day. A group of kids thought the best place to blow things up would be right below my bedroom window. soooo i dint really sleep.
Anyway Happy Diwali! (its pronounced D'vall-ee)
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Hugs and Stuff
I saw something interesting today. Nobody else found it interesting but me. There were a bunch of Americans in the Cafeteria (canteen) today. One of the girls in their group saw a guy she [I am assuming] she hadn't seen in a long time because she screamed ran across the room and gave him a huge hug. The Americans didn't think it was funny because it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The Indians didn't think it was funny because they were just stunned. See in their culture there is not interaction across sexes beyond a brief conversation. I looked around and the whole room was staring at these 2 people hugging, and they were completely oblivious. It would be about as shocking as a couple making out in the middle of the room would be to us.
I have said it before but I am continually amazed by their hospitality here. They are so patient with us as we stumble through learning their culture.
I have said it before but I am continually amazed by their hospitality here. They are so patient with us as we stumble through learning their culture.
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