I've pretty much always been of the philosophy that it's better to take the time to buy something for a person that is begging, and thus invest some of yourself in them too, than to just hand them some money and leave. I still think that investing some of yourself is important, but being as efficiency minded as I inevitably am, I realized that sometimes it is more efficient to help someone by giving them money than trying to buy something for them. In Kolkata, many merchants don't have set prices for things. As a white foreigner it is nearly impossible for me to get the same prices from these merchants that a native would.
Example A: A few weeks ago two of the women on the team bought some rice and dal (both Indian staples) for some mothers that live on the street. It came up sometime later that they had paid 50 rupees for the rice. The merchant had started with a price of 100 rupees, so they felt like they'd done an alright job of getting him to come down. One of our leaders told us that the going rate for that much rice was actually around 20 rupees. If they had just given the 50 rupees to the family, the family would have been able to buy over twice as much rice.
Example B: Monday afternoon I was buying something for several women that live on the streets. The merchant knew exactly what was going on, and knew that I had obviously already decided that I was going to buy. To walk away, I would have to tell the women "no," which he probably realized I wasn't all that likely to do. He claimed that his price was fixed, which is very unlikely for a street merchant that doesn't have prices posted. I argued with him, but he wouldn't budge. I finally decided that the price was still dirt cheap by standards for an American, and didn't want to waste any more time. I just paid him and left, feeling frustrated, but at least glad that I was able to provide some practical help. It was this experience that actually got me thinking about issues of prices for natives vs the "white tax" when trying to help out the people on the streets.
Clearly there are about a billion more factors that go into giving, but each one seems to offer new insights into how/when to give. It wasn't a simple problem to begin with, and it hasn't been getting any simpler. Still, I'm glad for the new insights and I'm sure that God has a lot more to teach me about it.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Sri Lanka
Our team leaves for Sri Lanka tomorrow. First we'll take a train down to Chennai. It's a long trip, and I'm not sure that it'll really be all that restful. You can certainly be praying for that. I think everyone on our team could use some good rest. From Chennai we'll catch a plane to Sri Lanka. We're doing it this way because it's way cheaper than a plane straight from Kolkata to Sri Lanka. We should arrive in Sri Lanka sometime mid-day on on Saturday.
In Sri Lanka our team will be working with Habitat For Humanity building new homes to replace those destroyed by the Tsunami. It's going to be a lot of hard construction work, and our sources say that Sri Lanka is really, really hot right now. Please pray our team to have energy for the work we are doing. I've been thinking a lot about Psalm 127 recently:
We'll be in Sri Lanka for about three weeks. After that we will fly back to India and visit several Word Made Flesh Homes in southern India. We will return to a Kolkata on May 2nd - One of the hottest months of the year.
I think our team is a little mixed on their feelings right now. I think we can all use the break from Kolkata, but several people are dreading the construction work. Kristin (leader) just hit a huge breakthrough in her work here in Kolkata, so she is disappointed that she has to put it on hold for a month. For me personally, I'm really ready for a break from Kolkata. This city has worn me down a lot, and I think the change of pace will do me some good. Hopefully we'll also be able to come back to Kolkata with fresh eyes to see things that we have become blind to.
During our time in Sri Lanka and southern India, my internet access is likely to be a lot more limited (I will have some). I'll keep posting whenever I can, but it is very unlikely that I will be able to post as often as I have been in Kolkata. Please keep sending me emails though, I love hearing from all of you and will make sure to keep reading them. Just remember that I may not be able to respond promptly (or at all).
While gone our team will be reading the following three books:
In Sri Lanka our team will be working with Habitat For Humanity building new homes to replace those destroyed by the Tsunami. It's going to be a lot of hard construction work, and our sources say that Sri Lanka is really, really hot right now. Please pray our team to have energy for the work we are doing. I've been thinking a lot about Psalm 127 recently:
Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain. In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat- for he grants sleep to those he loves. (Verses 1 & 2))That's really the truth our team needs to keep in mind while we are there. We need to be working for, and working through God.
We'll be in Sri Lanka for about three weeks. After that we will fly back to India and visit several Word Made Flesh Homes in southern India. We will return to a Kolkata on May 2nd - One of the hottest months of the year.
I think our team is a little mixed on their feelings right now. I think we can all use the break from Kolkata, but several people are dreading the construction work. Kristin (leader) just hit a huge breakthrough in her work here in Kolkata, so she is disappointed that she has to put it on hold for a month. For me personally, I'm really ready for a break from Kolkata. This city has worn me down a lot, and I think the change of pace will do me some good. Hopefully we'll also be able to come back to Kolkata with fresh eyes to see things that we have become blind to.
During our time in Sri Lanka and southern India, my internet access is likely to be a lot more limited (I will have some). I'll keep posting whenever I can, but it is very unlikely that I will be able to post as often as I have been in Kolkata. Please keep sending me emails though, I love hearing from all of you and will make sure to keep reading them. Just remember that I may not be able to respond promptly (or at all).
While gone our team will be reading the following three books:
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Blessed and Broken
Last night I had the privilege of joining a local pastor for a meeting he runs in a Muslim neighborhood. He was an amazing guy to talk to. Apparently his goal is to work with people of all denominations, and of course with the non-Christian population around him. He doesn't like the division of the Church through denominations, so instead of choosing into non-denominationalism like so many Americans have done, he chooses to very intentionally work with all of them. He has chosen to live his life as inter-denominational. I think that is an insightful approach that many Americans (myself included) could learn a lot from.
Rather than having a single Church that he is a pastor of, he does a variety of things. First, he is involved with many of the established local Churches. I met him when he was a guest pastor on Easter Sunday (The regular pastor was with his sick daughter at a hospital in Mumbai). The rest of the time he works in a Muslim slum. He runs many informal meetings like the one I went to out of people's homes, and I'm assuming must also work to build relationships with people in the area.
I gathered that the pastor has considerable financial means available to him because his children were well educated and moved to the United States. Yet instead of living it up, he has chosen a life marked by simplicity and love of the Gospel. The home that he has lived in for over 30 years is in this slum area, and is probably smaller than some of the dorm rooms I lived in at Harvey Mudd. Oh, plus these rooms are pretty basic. They have electricity, but you have to go elsewhere for water, or to use one of the community toilets. Each toilet, by the way, is generally shared by 10-20 families. On the plus side, he says his monthly rent is only 100 rupees (about $2.25).
Anyway, I'll get on to the meeting itself. People came and came until the room was packed. There was just barely enough room for people to sit on the floor, with a few people also on the lone bed. There were two chairs in the whole room. The pastor sat in one, and the other was saved for me. I'd say there were 20-30 people in attendance. Apparently there are usually more, but some of the kids that usually come were studying for final exams (that part actually sounds familiar). The meeting was a combination of prayer, singing songs of worship, scripture, and a sermon. The worship was largely in Bengali, but there was also a bit of Hindi and English. The only instrumentation they used was a single tambourine.
In spite of the simplistic melodies and my inability to understand most of the songs, I was struck by how genuine they were in their worship. They have so little, and yet they rejoice and praise God with more joy than any rich American I have ever known. I thought of a few of the luxuries that I currently enjoy by living in a middle-class Indian neighborhood:
In the midst of their having so little, they made me a guest of honor. In addition to getting one of the only two chairs, they gave me a full meal's worth of food when everyone else only received a snack. When the pastor picked me up and dropped me off at the subway station he even paid for us to take a taxi. It was certainly a short enough distance that we could have walked, but he chose to bless me. Everyone there treated me with incredible hospitality and asked when I would come back. They were all disappointed to hear that I would be gone for the month of April. I certainly plan to go to some more of his meetings when I return in May though.
All of this is seriously challenging my thoughts about giving. They need what they have far more than I need it, yet they have such compassionate, loving hearts that all they want to do is welcome me as their guest with what little they have. When I give, I'm usually worrying about the effectiveness of the giving and how much it is really needed. I'm generally not thinking about how I can choose to bless them the most or show them the most of Christ's love.
Another thought that Todd challenged me with recently was how often have I chosen to give until it hurts. Honestly, I have to answer never. I have never trusted God enough with my resources to give until I lacked. I have only given out of my abundance. Sometimes I have sacrificed luxuries by giving, but I have never given so much that I had to worry where my next meal would come from. I need to learn that type of sacrificial giving.
I am selfish, greedy, broken, and spiritually poor. How fortunate it is that I have a patient loving savior to show me my own spiritual poverty and transform my heart!
Rather than having a single Church that he is a pastor of, he does a variety of things. First, he is involved with many of the established local Churches. I met him when he was a guest pastor on Easter Sunday (The regular pastor was with his sick daughter at a hospital in Mumbai). The rest of the time he works in a Muslim slum. He runs many informal meetings like the one I went to out of people's homes, and I'm assuming must also work to build relationships with people in the area.
I gathered that the pastor has considerable financial means available to him because his children were well educated and moved to the United States. Yet instead of living it up, he has chosen a life marked by simplicity and love of the Gospel. The home that he has lived in for over 30 years is in this slum area, and is probably smaller than some of the dorm rooms I lived in at Harvey Mudd. Oh, plus these rooms are pretty basic. They have electricity, but you have to go elsewhere for water, or to use one of the community toilets. Each toilet, by the way, is generally shared by 10-20 families. On the plus side, he says his monthly rent is only 100 rupees (about $2.25).
Anyway, I'll get on to the meeting itself. People came and came until the room was packed. There was just barely enough room for people to sit on the floor, with a few people also on the lone bed. There were two chairs in the whole room. The pastor sat in one, and the other was saved for me. I'd say there were 20-30 people in attendance. Apparently there are usually more, but some of the kids that usually come were studying for final exams (that part actually sounds familiar). The meeting was a combination of prayer, singing songs of worship, scripture, and a sermon. The worship was largely in Bengali, but there was also a bit of Hindi and English. The only instrumentation they used was a single tambourine.
In spite of the simplistic melodies and my inability to understand most of the songs, I was struck by how genuine they were in their worship. They have so little, and yet they rejoice and praise God with more joy than any rich American I have ever known. I thought of a few of the luxuries that I currently enjoy by living in a middle-class Indian neighborhood:
- A small refrigerator
- A bathroom only shared by three of us
- A private place to take our cold, non-bucket showers
- More space per person than entire families have in the slums
In the midst of their having so little, they made me a guest of honor. In addition to getting one of the only two chairs, they gave me a full meal's worth of food when everyone else only received a snack. When the pastor picked me up and dropped me off at the subway station he even paid for us to take a taxi. It was certainly a short enough distance that we could have walked, but he chose to bless me. Everyone there treated me with incredible hospitality and asked when I would come back. They were all disappointed to hear that I would be gone for the month of April. I certainly plan to go to some more of his meetings when I return in May though.
All of this is seriously challenging my thoughts about giving. They need what they have far more than I need it, yet they have such compassionate, loving hearts that all they want to do is welcome me as their guest with what little they have. When I give, I'm usually worrying about the effectiveness of the giving and how much it is really needed. I'm generally not thinking about how I can choose to bless them the most or show them the most of Christ's love.
Another thought that Todd challenged me with recently was how often have I chosen to give until it hurts. Honestly, I have to answer never. I have never trusted God enough with my resources to give until I lacked. I have only given out of my abundance. Sometimes I have sacrificed luxuries by giving, but I have never given so much that I had to worry where my next meal would come from. I need to learn that type of sacrificial giving.
I am selfish, greedy, broken, and spiritually poor. How fortunate it is that I have a patient loving savior to show me my own spiritual poverty and transform my heart!
Monday, March 28, 2005
The Chemist
A few nights ago I visited a Chemist (small drug store) in hopes of finding some sort of decongestant to help clear me up and help me to sleep. It ended up being an interesting experience.
First off, he only understood very basic English. I think my Bengali may have been about as useful to our exchange than his English. Still, that doesn't help much since I don't know how to say "decongestant" in Bengali. Perhaps "going to the doctor" will be our next lesson. Gesturing didn't seem to be working all that well either. I whipped out my phrasebook in the hopes of finding the perfect word to convey my problem. Unfortunately the best I could come up with was "closed" as a word I could apply to my nose. I'm not sure if that actually got the idea across or not, but he seemed to understand something. He grabbed some nose drops for me. I was hoping for decongestant pills, but nose drops didn't seem like an entirely unreasonable form for such a drug.
I still wasn't really sure if he really understood what I needed. The box was in multiple languages (including English), so I decided to play it safe by double-checking what the box thought it was for. It turns out that the box didn't actually say what the drug was for. It did tell me all of the active ingredients, plus how to use and store the stuff. It even told me the price, which was nice so I knew I wasn't getting ripped off. Still, it would have gone a long way towards comforting me to see something like "Clears up stuffy noses."
The good news is that it hasn't killed me or caused any adverse side affects... so far. The bad news is that it hasn't really done a whole lot of anything. It might have loosened stuff up a little, but I'm honestly not convinced that there was anything more than a placebo effect going on. I'm still pretty congested, although I think it's starting to get better. Perhaps I'll be back to 100% by the time we leave for Sri Lanka on Thursday.
First off, he only understood very basic English. I think my Bengali may have been about as useful to our exchange than his English. Still, that doesn't help much since I don't know how to say "decongestant" in Bengali. Perhaps "going to the doctor" will be our next lesson. Gesturing didn't seem to be working all that well either. I whipped out my phrasebook in the hopes of finding the perfect word to convey my problem. Unfortunately the best I could come up with was "closed" as a word I could apply to my nose. I'm not sure if that actually got the idea across or not, but he seemed to understand something. He grabbed some nose drops for me. I was hoping for decongestant pills, but nose drops didn't seem like an entirely unreasonable form for such a drug.
I still wasn't really sure if he really understood what I needed. The box was in multiple languages (including English), so I decided to play it safe by double-checking what the box thought it was for. It turns out that the box didn't actually say what the drug was for. It did tell me all of the active ingredients, plus how to use and store the stuff. It even told me the price, which was nice so I knew I wasn't getting ripped off. Still, it would have gone a long way towards comforting me to see something like "Clears up stuffy noses."
The good news is that it hasn't killed me or caused any adverse side affects... so far. The bad news is that it hasn't really done a whole lot of anything. It might have loosened stuff up a little, but I'm honestly not convinced that there was anything more than a placebo effect going on. I'm still pretty congested, although I think it's starting to get better. Perhaps I'll be back to 100% by the time we leave for Sri Lanka on Thursday.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Sharing Everything
Part of community is sharing in each others burdens. To further this end, my body decided to share in the burden of Todd's cold. I'm super congested, and had a lot of trouble sleeping last night as a result. I'm really hoping I can find some decongestants around here. Not bringing any was definitely an oversight. Please be praying for healing and that I wouldn't pass it on to the rest of the team. It seems like such a minor annoyance, but it has really drained me of energy.
Was That Culturally Appropriate?
Yesterday during Holi, I pretty much hid inside all day until the afternoon when it had died down and I had to go to my language lesson. At one point Todd decided to go up to the roof to watch the festivities. While Todd was gone, I heard a knock at the door, and figured it was him needing to be let back in. To my surprise, it was a middle-aged Indian man. He commented that I was new and introduced himself to me. He then said something like, "Today is the Holi day" and began to reach into a bag filled with bright colored paint powder...
I shut the door in his face. Perhaps that wasn't the nicest thing to do, but I really didn't want paint getting all over me and my clothes.
On a side note, I did end up getting a little paint on my clothes today when someone threw a paint balloon at the window of a bus I was in. There are only a few specs here and there, but it's still frustrating. From what I've heard about this paint, I doubt it will come out completely, if at all.
I shut the door in his face. Perhaps that wasn't the nicest thing to do, but I really didn't want paint getting all over me and my clothes.
On a side note, I did end up getting a little paint on my clothes today when someone threw a paint balloon at the window of a bus I was in. There are only a few specs here and there, but it's still frustrating. From what I've heard about this paint, I doubt it will come out completely, if at all.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
An Encouraging Beggar Experience
I really feel like I ignore the beggars around me too much. Generally it is a combination of factors. I'm often in too much of a hurry so I don't want to take the time. This is much more of a factor for me than issues of money. I also find myself emotionally drained and just not wanting to deal with anything. Neither of these seem like particularly good reasons to ignore and avoid beggars.
Yesterday, after leaving the internet cafe I was feeling kind of low on energy, but I did have plenty of time before I needed to get back. Almost immediately after stepping outside I saw three women sitting at the side of the street. As I approached them one of them held out a hand. I stopped and greeted them. Before saying anything to them about giving or not giving, one of them invited me to sit down. In fact, not only did she invite me to sit down, she got off of the blanket she was sitting on so that I could sit on it. I sat down and started talking with them. They were all related as mother, daughter, and aunt/sister. One of them pulled out a small photo album she had with her and tried to explain to me who some of the people in it were. They asked me about myself, and generally just seemed to enjoy the interaction. After five minutes there hadn't been any mention of food or money, we were just talking.
About that time a young Indian man joined us. He said he worked nearby, and I got the impression he was pretty well off. He knew quite a bit of English, and pretty much took over the conversation. He pretty quickly started pushing me pretty hard to give them money. He told me that they were mad at me for not giving them anything, something I really don't think was true. I told him that I was already planning to help them, but he didn't seem to believe me until I would actually do something. At this point I was becoming somewhat frustrated with him because he had completely changed the dynamic of the exchange. I told the women to come and I would give them food. We went to a nearby egg roll / chow mien stand and I bought them all some food. Once I had done this the man left, but I was still feeling frustrated because of him. Rather than try to continue talking with them women, I chose to go home.
I hope I run into them again. I really enjoyed talking with them, and really just felt good about my interaction with them (Other than the parts about that man). I felt like I was actually able to relate and share with them across language, cultural, racial, and class barriers.
Yesterday, after leaving the internet cafe I was feeling kind of low on energy, but I did have plenty of time before I needed to get back. Almost immediately after stepping outside I saw three women sitting at the side of the street. As I approached them one of them held out a hand. I stopped and greeted them. Before saying anything to them about giving or not giving, one of them invited me to sit down. In fact, not only did she invite me to sit down, she got off of the blanket she was sitting on so that I could sit on it. I sat down and started talking with them. They were all related as mother, daughter, and aunt/sister. One of them pulled out a small photo album she had with her and tried to explain to me who some of the people in it were. They asked me about myself, and generally just seemed to enjoy the interaction. After five minutes there hadn't been any mention of food or money, we were just talking.
About that time a young Indian man joined us. He said he worked nearby, and I got the impression he was pretty well off. He knew quite a bit of English, and pretty much took over the conversation. He pretty quickly started pushing me pretty hard to give them money. He told me that they were mad at me for not giving them anything, something I really don't think was true. I told him that I was already planning to help them, but he didn't seem to believe me until I would actually do something. At this point I was becoming somewhat frustrated with him because he had completely changed the dynamic of the exchange. I told the women to come and I would give them food. We went to a nearby egg roll / chow mien stand and I bought them all some food. Once I had done this the man left, but I was still feeling frustrated because of him. Rather than try to continue talking with them women, I chose to go home.
I hope I run into them again. I really enjoyed talking with them, and really just felt good about my interaction with them (Other than the parts about that man). I felt like I was actually able to relate and share with them across language, cultural, racial, and class barriers.
Holi
Today starts a Hindu festival known as Holi. As part of the celebration, they take the morning tomorrow as an opportunity to "give color." To the best of my understanding, the American translation is "paint fight." All of the shops are closed, as well as public transportation. Todd and I are planning to hide in our apartment until the late afternoon when it should all be over. It isn't that I don't want to embrace the Indian culture, it's just that I don't want to ruin any of my clothes with a layer of paint. Oh, and Todd read something in the newspaper that implied that sometimes people use cheaper paints that aren't the safest to get on your skin. I want to avoid that too.
Whimsical Weather
Yesterday morning and afternoon it was sunny... up until about 4pm when it started drizzling a bit. By 5pm I started wondering if monsoon season was coming early this year. There were a few breaks in it, but the rain kept coming through a lot of the night and most of this morning. Around 1pm today it died back down to a drizzle, then stopped altogether. By 3pm the sun was out and Kolkata has started to dry up.
I'm no stranger to rain, or even minor flooding as the result of rain, but in Kolkata, standing water is just disgusting. There is so much junk and nastiness around that walking around outside feels like wading through an inch or two of sewage. I was wearing my sandals last night, and now the cushy layer on top of them feels like walking on a nasty wet sponge. I don't dare take my shoes out in this, and I don't have any boots. I think I'm going to pick up a cheap pair of sandals on my way home and designate them as my new sandles to use when wading. I'm just hoping my good sandals won't be too nasty when they dry out.
On a related note: Mom, thank you for making me bring that portable emergency poncho. It draws a lot of looks, but it is very functional.
I'm no stranger to rain, or even minor flooding as the result of rain, but in Kolkata, standing water is just disgusting. There is so much junk and nastiness around that walking around outside feels like wading through an inch or two of sewage. I was wearing my sandals last night, and now the cushy layer on top of them feels like walking on a nasty wet sponge. I don't dare take my shoes out in this, and I don't have any boots. I think I'm going to pick up a cheap pair of sandals on my way home and designate them as my new sandles to use when wading. I'm just hoping my good sandals won't be too nasty when they dry out.
On a related note: Mom, thank you for making me bring that portable emergency poncho. It draws a lot of looks, but it is very functional.
LAUP Website
Aileen put together a website about our time at LAUP this summer. I haven't had the chance to read it yet, and probably won't until I'm back in the states. I'm sure it's great through. Go check it out if you have the time. It can be found here.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Official Update Letter
Ok, here's my official update letter. If you keep up on my blog, it'll probably sound pretty familiar.
Hello everyone,
I've been in Kolkata for a bit over a month now, and it seems like
I've had more experiences than would fit in an entire lifetime. This letter will try to summarize things, but it won't be able to do it any real justice. For those of you that don't already know, I've been maintaining a blog at http://pvegdahl.blogspot.com/. My first post from Kolkata was on February 19th. Please take a look at it if you want more information on what I've been doing. I will continue to update it as often as I am able. I'll send out another one of these summarizing updates sometime in mid-April.
My first few days in Kolkata were very emotionally challenging for me. I felt completely overwhelmed just by the simple realities of day to day life. On top of that, the city is unlike anything I've ever experienced in America. It is busy, crowded, smelly, noisy, poor, dying... I could go on, but words really cannot explain what it is like being here. During my first few days I often felt like crying, just because of the incredible pain and suffering that I observed everywhere on the streets. After just a month of being here, so many of those things have just become natural parts of my everyday life. This isn't to say that I don't struggle with it anymore, because certainly I do. Rather it is just that I am no longer shocked to see it. Now it is part of my daily expectation to see those things.
Five days a week our team spends time in the Missionaries of Charity (Mother Teresa) homes. At first we all went to Kalighat together. Kalighat was the first home that Mother Teresa started, and is a home for the destitute and dying. After three days at Kalighat, our team was given the chose to switch to any of the Missionaries of Charity homes. We were asked to commit to investing in one or two homes rather than just bouncing around between all of them. Our team of six ended up splitting into pairs and going to three separate homes.
I have been going to a home called Nabo Jibon (Bengali for "New Life") run by the Missionaries of Charity brothers. It is split into three wards. The first ward is for handicapped boys. I spend a lot of time in there just trying to keep the boys active. Many of them have the physical ability to walk, although some of them need help or are confined to wheelchairs. The biggest problem is that they really need attention. This can take almost any form, but seems to be very important for them. Without any stimulation they often just sit around doing nothing and often seem very depressed. Spending time with these kids often seems unproductive, but God has been teaching me a lot about patience and love through my time there.
The second ward is for men with tuberculosis. Although there is no guarantee, the hope is that the men in this ward will all be able to recover and return home. There has been at least one man who recovered and went home since I started serving at Nabo Jibon. I have not been aware of any men dying, but I could have missed it. Some of the men in there are very weak. My time in this ward is purely relational. They don't speak much, if any, English, and I am far from fluent in either Bengali or Hindi. Still, the men enjoy me and I enjoy being with them. They have helped me practice the Bengali I am learning (our team receives lessons twice each week), and I have helped some of them as they try to learn some English.
The third ward is a general ward for men suffering from anything else. I have spent very little time in this ward, so I'm not sure exactly how things work in there. My understanding is that this ward has a combination of patients that are likely to recover, as well as some that are likely to spend the rest of their lives at Nabo Jibon.
On top of our work in the Missionaries of Charity homes, our team has daily interactions with natives throughout the city. Some of these interactions are with the people that live in our neighborhood, some are with people on the streets of Kolkata. Being white in Kolkata really makes you stand out, and the Indian culture doesn't have the same sense of privacy that I'm used to in America. When I get on the subway everyone stares. If I stop to play with a street kid, people will stop and watch. Some of the biggest challenges I face are how to interact with natives in loving ways, particularly when I am upset or frustrated with them.
On March 31st, our team will leave Kolkata for the month of April. We will spend the bulk of that month in Sri Lanka working with Habitat for Humanity rebuilding homes. We will also spend a little time visiting some Word Made Flesh homes in southern India. Kolkata has really worn our team out, and I think we all need a bit of a break.
Please continue to pray for our health. It seems like there is always someone sick on our team. Kolkata is a hard enough city to deal with without being sick. You can also just be praying for our energy. It has been getting noticeably hotter during the past few weeks, and that has really been wearing us out. As far as heat goes, it is likely to get a lot worse when we travel south, and be absolutely horrible when we return to Kolkata in May.
Please keep praying for us that we would really allow ourselves to be emotionally present in while we are here. It is really easy for us to distance ourselves emotionally because Kolkata is such a hard city to be in. Pray that we would continue to struggle with, and enter into the pain around us. Pray that God would help us take the small steps to love the people in this city.
I feel like I can't really express much of what I'm feeling in this letter. If you haven't already, please take the time to at least read a few of the stories on my blog. They will give you a much better picture of what I'm dealing with than this overview letter will.
Thank you again so much for your prayers,
In Christ's love,
Philip
April
She's one of the women on the team, and has been having far more health problems than anyone else. I'll spare you the details and just say that she's beginning to suspect that her digestive system may have taken on some extra help. Please keep her in your prayers. This has been really hard on her physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Guilty Without Trial
Kristin gave me a copy of the book Guilty Without Trial to read. It is completely optional, but I think all of our team is likely to end up reading it. The book takes a look at prostitution in Kolkata. It is written based on a lot of research and experience, and is written very objectively. It almost feels like reading a text book. I'm still in the middle of it, but I can already highly recommend it to anyone with a heart for those issues. The information in it is very eye opening, and therefore horrifying to me in many ways. I never realized just how complex and deep rooted many of the problems are, and as a result how difficult it is for any change to happen.
Celebrities?
Being white makes everyone on the team a very out of place minority in Kolkata, particularly in the neighborhood we live in. Different people react to us in different ways. Most adults just stare at us in silence as we walk by. I love the children though. They are always excited to see us. I feel like we are celebrities whenever children see us. They usually come running up to us as soon as they see us, shake our hands with great excitement, and practice saying "Hello, how are you?" I've had kids wave and yell at me from their balcony too. It may not seem so great in a couple more months, but for now, I really enjoy it.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Jaudis
Over the month that I've spent at Nabo Jibon, I've really tried to build relationships with the men in the TB ward. It has been hard because of the language barrier, and we've spent a lot of time just confusing each other without being able to communicate anything. Still, I've really enjoyed my time with them, and they always seem happy to see me. Jaudis is one of the first men I got to know in the ward. On my second day there he taught me to count in Hindi, his mother tongue. He was the man that once invited me to stay and eat lunch with him. He was always glad to see me and was so patient with me whenever we were struggling to communicate.
Last week (I don't remember which day) he was very excited to see me. He said something I didn't understand, while pointing out the window. Then he handed me a piece of paper. I looked at it and discovered that it was a dismissal from Nabo Jibon. He had recovered from his TB. This was even more amazing to me because he had been there a long time and was one of the men with a resistant strain of TB. He had also been there quite a while. I don't know exactly how long, only that Mother Teresa had actually brought him there (assuming I understood him correctly when he was trying to tell me that). It turned out that they were still waiting on a blood test before releasing him, but that all signs pointed to him being healthy.
Today when I walked into the ward, I looked around. There was another man in his bed. One of the other patients said "Jaudis," then motioned with his hand to indicate that he wasn't there anymore. I inquired a bit more and found out that he had left yesterday (Sunday). It leaves me feeling very bittersweet. I'm so glad that he's healed and able to rejoin his family in another city. Last week, he had been talking a lot about his family, so I know he was very excited to see them again. I can't say that I would want anything other than this to happen. Still, I am going to miss him. I will miss seeing him every day. I will miss trying to talk with him in Bengali, the closest thing we had to a language in common (Hindi is his mother tongue). I will even miss the times when he would try to convince me that I should give up on Bengali and try to learn Hindi instead because it is much more common throughout India as a whole.
You'll never read this Jaudis, and even if you did, you wouldn't understand it, but I'm going to write it anyway. Thank you for the love you showed me during the month of life that we shared. In spite of not understanding most of what you said, I was blessed to be your friend and I will miss you. God bless you!
Last week (I don't remember which day) he was very excited to see me. He said something I didn't understand, while pointing out the window. Then he handed me a piece of paper. I looked at it and discovered that it was a dismissal from Nabo Jibon. He had recovered from his TB. This was even more amazing to me because he had been there a long time and was one of the men with a resistant strain of TB. He had also been there quite a while. I don't know exactly how long, only that Mother Teresa had actually brought him there (assuming I understood him correctly when he was trying to tell me that). It turned out that they were still waiting on a blood test before releasing him, but that all signs pointed to him being healthy.
Today when I walked into the ward, I looked around. There was another man in his bed. One of the other patients said "Jaudis," then motioned with his hand to indicate that he wasn't there anymore. I inquired a bit more and found out that he had left yesterday (Sunday). It leaves me feeling very bittersweet. I'm so glad that he's healed and able to rejoin his family in another city. Last week, he had been talking a lot about his family, so I know he was very excited to see them again. I can't say that I would want anything other than this to happen. Still, I am going to miss him. I will miss seeing him every day. I will miss trying to talk with him in Bengali, the closest thing we had to a language in common (Hindi is his mother tongue). I will even miss the times when he would try to convince me that I should give up on Bengali and try to learn Hindi instead because it is much more common throughout India as a whole.
You'll never read this Jaudis, and even if you did, you wouldn't understand it, but I'm going to write it anyway. Thank you for the love you showed me during the month of life that we shared. In spite of not understanding most of what you said, I was blessed to be your friend and I will miss you. God bless you!
Change of Plans
A lot of you probably won't read this until Tuesday or Wednesday since I told you I'd be in the village. I found out Saturday evening that the three day trip was going to be shortened to a day trip on Sunday. I was disappointed, but still eager to go.
The day was still very different than what I had expected. First I'll briefly explain what we were expecting. The plan was that Kristen (non-leader), Rachel and I would meet up with the family, get to the train station, and then take a train out to their village with them. We would spend the day there, and then the three of us would return by train in the evening, leaving the family in their village. Kristin, our leader (Notice that the leader one is "Kristin" and the non-leader one is "Kristen.") had told us that we should pay all of the transportation costs, as well as giving the family money for food.
Now here's what actually happened: Sunday morning we met the family where they live on the streets whenever they are in the city. The father led us to a hired car which we all squeezed into. After a little while, we (Kristen, Rachel, and I) realized that this we weren't headed to the train station like we thought, but rather that the hired car was going to take us all of the way out to the village. We asked how much it would cost and found out that it was likely to be at least 2000 rupees. That's a ridiculous amount of money in India. In terms of buying power, that's probably around $300-$400 (A nice dinner is under 100 rupees. Monthly rent on a modest apartment is 1500 rupees). Needless to say, we didn't have that kind of money on us. We might have had 1000 rupees, but only because I had a 500 rupee note that I needed to break. I'm so glad we figured that out before we got very far.
The driver parked the car and we talked about it with the family through the driver as a translator. We talked about going on the train, or even just paying for the family to go home by train without us, but in the end we all ended up heading back to where we started. I'm very wary about people trying to cheat us since we're foreigners, so I had paid attention to the odometer. The round trip was only 7 kilometers, and the driver had quoted us a price of 8 rupees/kilometer (probably inflated too). The driver asked us for 100 rupees for the ride, just a tad more than the 56 it should have been. I "discussed" this with the driver for bit. He was understandably upset because he had just lost a giant fare, but I wasn't in the mood to compensate him for it. We ended up giving him 60 rupees, the closest we could manage without needing to convince him to make change for us, and then walked away.
The whole thing left me pretty upset, and like everyone was trying to take advantage of us. The family knew that we were going to pay for transportation, so instead of using the reasonable form of transportation they usually would, they chose something expensive and unnecessary. Then the driver tried to charge us about double the price he had quoted us and was upset that we wouldn't pay it. It keeps putting me back to the question of the money barrier and how to overcome it.
The day was still very different than what I had expected. First I'll briefly explain what we were expecting. The plan was that Kristen (non-leader), Rachel and I would meet up with the family, get to the train station, and then take a train out to their village with them. We would spend the day there, and then the three of us would return by train in the evening, leaving the family in their village. Kristin, our leader (Notice that the leader one is "Kristin" and the non-leader one is "Kristen.") had told us that we should pay all of the transportation costs, as well as giving the family money for food.
Now here's what actually happened: Sunday morning we met the family where they live on the streets whenever they are in the city. The father led us to a hired car which we all squeezed into. After a little while, we (Kristen, Rachel, and I) realized that this we weren't headed to the train station like we thought, but rather that the hired car was going to take us all of the way out to the village. We asked how much it would cost and found out that it was likely to be at least 2000 rupees. That's a ridiculous amount of money in India. In terms of buying power, that's probably around $300-$400 (A nice dinner is under 100 rupees. Monthly rent on a modest apartment is 1500 rupees). Needless to say, we didn't have that kind of money on us. We might have had 1000 rupees, but only because I had a 500 rupee note that I needed to break. I'm so glad we figured that out before we got very far.
The driver parked the car and we talked about it with the family through the driver as a translator. We talked about going on the train, or even just paying for the family to go home by train without us, but in the end we all ended up heading back to where we started. I'm very wary about people trying to cheat us since we're foreigners, so I had paid attention to the odometer. The round trip was only 7 kilometers, and the driver had quoted us a price of 8 rupees/kilometer (probably inflated too). The driver asked us for 100 rupees for the ride, just a tad more than the 56 it should have been. I "discussed" this with the driver for bit. He was understandably upset because he had just lost a giant fare, but I wasn't in the mood to compensate him for it. We ended up giving him 60 rupees, the closest we could manage without needing to convince him to make change for us, and then walked away.
The whole thing left me pretty upset, and like everyone was trying to take advantage of us. The family knew that we were going to pay for transportation, so instead of using the reasonable form of transportation they usually would, they chose something expensive and unnecessary. Then the driver tried to charge us about double the price he had quoted us and was upset that we wouldn't pay it. It keeps putting me back to the question of the money barrier and how to overcome it.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
One Month In and I'm Leaving Town!
One month ago today was my first day in Kolkata. It seems like I've been here a lot longer than that. I feel like I've had at least a year's worth of experiences in the past month. I've adapted to many of the daily realities that originally were very difficult for me, but there are still many things that seem so foreign to me.
Since it's a month in, it's about time for me to write my next "official" prayer update letter. It'll get posted up here too, which means a lot of you will get it twice since you're also on my email list. I'm sorry about that, it was poor planning on my part. At this point I just don't want to take the time to go through and edit my list down. Besides, I'm sure that if you have the time to keep up on all of the stuff I write on my blog, you'll have the time to deal with one unnecessary email. The real challenge for me is figuring out how to put everything I might want to say in a one or two page summary.
On Sunday (tomorrow) through Tuesday, part of our team is going to visit a family in a village outside of Kolkata. Since it is optional, only myself and two or three of our women (one is still undecided) will be going. The Word Made Flesh staff here in Kolkata know the family, but will not be going with us. I'm sure this will be a great experience (if for no other reason than clean air), but it will create some new challenges. First, the family don't speak any English other than "hello," so we will be entirely dependent on the little bit of Bengali we know, which is still pretty basic. Second, this is a rural area, which means it won't share the limited technological conveniences we have in the city. Third, as much as we're out of place as white Americans in the city, people are at least used to seeing whites occasionally. In these villages, whites are probably about as common as hamburger stands. We will be even more out of place.
I think that I'm unlikely to find any internet cafes in a village without indoor plumbing, so I probably won't be posting again until Tuesday or Wednesday. It may still be worth your while to come and read other peoples' comments. I've gotten a few thoughtful ones recently and I hope they don't go unread.
Anyway, thank you so much for all of your prayers, comments, and encouraging emails.
Since it's a month in, it's about time for me to write my next "official" prayer update letter. It'll get posted up here too, which means a lot of you will get it twice since you're also on my email list. I'm sorry about that, it was poor planning on my part. At this point I just don't want to take the time to go through and edit my list down. Besides, I'm sure that if you have the time to keep up on all of the stuff I write on my blog, you'll have the time to deal with one unnecessary email. The real challenge for me is figuring out how to put everything I might want to say in a one or two page summary.
On Sunday (tomorrow) through Tuesday, part of our team is going to visit a family in a village outside of Kolkata. Since it is optional, only myself and two or three of our women (one is still undecided) will be going. The Word Made Flesh staff here in Kolkata know the family, but will not be going with us. I'm sure this will be a great experience (if for no other reason than clean air), but it will create some new challenges. First, the family don't speak any English other than "hello," so we will be entirely dependent on the little bit of Bengali we know, which is still pretty basic. Second, this is a rural area, which means it won't share the limited technological conveniences we have in the city. Third, as much as we're out of place as white Americans in the city, people are at least used to seeing whites occasionally. In these villages, whites are probably about as common as hamburger stands. We will be even more out of place.
I think that I'm unlikely to find any internet cafes in a village without indoor plumbing, so I probably won't be posting again until Tuesday or Wednesday. It may still be worth your while to come and read other peoples' comments. I've gotten a few thoughtful ones recently and I hope they don't go unread.
Anyway, thank you so much for all of your prayers, comments, and encouraging emails.
Friday, March 18, 2005
It's Tough Being a Kid
Today at Nabo Jibon I spent a lot more time than usual with the handicapped boys. There was one boy in particular I spent most of my time with. It's hard to tell age, but I would guess that he's probably around twelve. His right arm is currently in a cast (new as of the last week or so). I'm assuming he broke it, but I haven't heard any official story. Anyway, he clearly doesn't like it. Whenever I could keep him occupied he was fairly happy, but as soon as he remembered he had a cast, he would start crying and trying to pull the cast off. Whenever that started, there wasn't much I could do until he just broke out of it.
I can't really imagine what it must be like for him. He's smart enough that he can speak a little, although I can't understand what he's saying. He probably doesn't, however, understand why he has the cast on his arm. To him it is probably just a burden, something that prevents him from interacting with the world in the ways he is used to. It also seems unlikely that he knows it is only temporary. He likely assumes that he will always be this way, and will never get his arm back.
I don't know what to do for him. I would hold his left hand, I would hug him, I even sang to him. I will have plenty more opportunities to love him in the midst of this particular suffering, I just wish I knew how.
I can't really imagine what it must be like for him. He's smart enough that he can speak a little, although I can't understand what he's saying. He probably doesn't, however, understand why he has the cast on his arm. To him it is probably just a burden, something that prevents him from interacting with the world in the ways he is used to. It also seems unlikely that he knows it is only temporary. He likely assumes that he will always be this way, and will never get his arm back.
I don't know what to do for him. I would hold his left hand, I would hug him, I even sang to him. I will have plenty more opportunities to love him in the midst of this particular suffering, I just wish I knew how.
Money Barrier
I am realizing more and more just how much of a barrier money can be in relationships. The same beggars on the street that you see day after day can either be your best friend or very cold to you, all depending on whether or not you give money. Anyone you do business with will try to charge you too much, usually double or triple the price they would offer to a native (and for the record, I hate bartering).
Even at Nabo Jibon I saw it today. The men in the TB ward asked me how much it cost for the plane from America to Kolkata. Obviously I didn't have to tell them, but I don't like holding back information when I feel like it's a reasonable question. I gave them a conservative estimate for a one-way ticket as half of a round trip. Their eyes and faces told me what they were feeling inside. They couldn't believe that I could have so much money to spend on a trip to Kolkata. It was a small fortune to them. Far more money than any of them have ever had at any one time. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if they've never known anyone (other than the volunteers) that had that kind of money. Just my ability to come to Kolkata creates a wall of money between us.
In a world that looks at people first by what they have, are true relationships across class lines truly possible? I need to believe that through the power of Jesus love, these relationships are possible.
Even at Nabo Jibon I saw it today. The men in the TB ward asked me how much it cost for the plane from America to Kolkata. Obviously I didn't have to tell them, but I don't like holding back information when I feel like it's a reasonable question. I gave them a conservative estimate for a one-way ticket as half of a round trip. Their eyes and faces told me what they were feeling inside. They couldn't believe that I could have so much money to spend on a trip to Kolkata. It was a small fortune to them. Far more money than any of them have ever had at any one time. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if they've never known anyone (other than the volunteers) that had that kind of money. Just my ability to come to Kolkata creates a wall of money between us.
In a world that looks at people first by what they have, are true relationships across class lines truly possible? I need to believe that through the power of Jesus love, these relationships are possible.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Keeping it Short
I've only got a little while to blog today, so instead of a lengthy new post about what I'm up to in Kolkata, I'll point you to a new blog belonging to Nathan, my brother. It can be found here and probably has very little to do with the poor of Kolkata. Then again... knowing Nathan it is possible that he will write a bunch on that topic specifically to prove me wrong.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Small World
Last night was our worship night. We had three missionaries from out of the country join us. I don't really know why they were in Kolkata (training maybe) or how they got hooked up with us to come to our worship night, but it was great to have them there. Afterwards I got talking with them, and it turns out that two of them went to Church with Musiki, a woman that shared the house with the women on my LAUP team this summer. Even on the other side of the world, I'm making connections that are a lot closer to home.
I'm Trying to Love
Yesterday afternoon, when I got done at the internet cafe, I started walking towards the Metro station to catch a train home. As always, I didn't have to go too far before I came upon a woman with an outstretched hand. Since I'm on this street a lot, I've probably walked by her dozens of times so far without even acknowledging her. This time I decided I'd try to love her, however that looked.
Using my mastery of the Bengali language I greeted her, then told her "food, come." We walked to Khalsa, a nearby restaurant, and I motioned her inside. We sat down and I handed her the single menu they had for us. She ordered a few items, and I ordered a lassi (yogurt drink). While we sat I got out my Bengali notes and practiced with her. She knew a bit of English too, so we were able to have a bit of a conversation. At first it seemed like she was just trying to get more money out of me, which was a bit frustrating. I sort of ignored those comments and tried to make conversation: "I live in America." "I work at a Mother Teresa house everyday." Everyday isn't quite correct (I only work 5 days each week), but it was one of my new vocabulary words, so I wanted to practice it. Pretty soon she started talking about herself. What I gathered, which may not have been correct, was that she used to live in Bangladesh with her husband. Her husband died and then she moved here (those may have been in the other order). She said something about a kid, although it was completely unclear to me what exactly she was trying to get across. She didn't have a kid with her, so I'm not sure if it was a child she has now, a child that grew up, a child that died, some other child that she just felt like talking about...
After she finished eating, I went over to pay the bill and she left the restaurant. Once I got outside I realized she was waiting for me out there. We walked back a little way together. She said that the food was good and was very thankful. She asked me about tomorrow. I didn't commit, but tried to get across the idea that I'd probably buy her lunch again sometime. I don't really want it to be something that she just expects from me, but I'd also like to help her and try to build some relationship there. I just don't want it to all be based around me giving her stuff. Once again I find myself without answers, but with a desire and conviction to love and bless the poor.
Using my mastery of the Bengali language I greeted her, then told her "food, come." We walked to Khalsa, a nearby restaurant, and I motioned her inside. We sat down and I handed her the single menu they had for us. She ordered a few items, and I ordered a lassi (yogurt drink). While we sat I got out my Bengali notes and practiced with her. She knew a bit of English too, so we were able to have a bit of a conversation. At first it seemed like she was just trying to get more money out of me, which was a bit frustrating. I sort of ignored those comments and tried to make conversation: "I live in America." "I work at a Mother Teresa house everyday." Everyday isn't quite correct (I only work 5 days each week), but it was one of my new vocabulary words, so I wanted to practice it. Pretty soon she started talking about herself. What I gathered, which may not have been correct, was that she used to live in Bangladesh with her husband. Her husband died and then she moved here (those may have been in the other order). She said something about a kid, although it was completely unclear to me what exactly she was trying to get across. She didn't have a kid with her, so I'm not sure if it was a child she has now, a child that grew up, a child that died, some other child that she just felt like talking about...
After she finished eating, I went over to pay the bill and she left the restaurant. Once I got outside I realized she was waiting for me out there. We walked back a little way together. She said that the food was good and was very thankful. She asked me about tomorrow. I didn't commit, but tried to get across the idea that I'd probably buy her lunch again sometime. I don't really want it to be something that she just expects from me, but I'd also like to help her and try to build some relationship there. I just don't want it to all be based around me giving her stuff. Once again I find myself without answers, but with a desire and conviction to love and bless the poor.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Umm... NO!
Sunday night, while I was waiting for some fried rice at a food stand in our neighborhood, I had a guy approach me and then pull me off to the side. He asked me if I wanted sex because he knew a woman. I made it quite clear to him that I was not interested. He then assured me that she was not a prostitute. He said she liked me. I find this very odd since cultural barriers have prevented me from talking to any of the women in my neighborhood. I'm wondering if she is a woman that wants to get herself attached to a rich American so that she can leave India and poverty. I once again made it clear to him that I was completely uninterested. We then spent about ten minutes talking about my Christian moral convictions about sex. I get the impression he found this hard to believe because of (A) American media and (B) the view that all Americans are Christian. In any case, it was a weird, uncomfortable conversation, and I suspect that it won't be the only time while in Kolkata that I will be approached in that way.
More Thoughts on Poverty
Yesterday I had a "date" (one on one check in time) with my team leader Kristin. We talked about issues of community, prayer, poverty, and probably some other stuff I don't remember right now. She told me some things that I really should have realized, but somehow in the craziness of everything I experience daily, hadn't. Work is hard to find in Kolkata, but generally possible if you're hard working... and male. I knew the gender role realities of Kolkata, but somehow it never really clicked for me. If a woman doesn't have a husband providing for her and her children (either because he's absent, or because he's an alcoholic/lazy/abusive/...), then she probably doesn't have any other options but to beg for money. Over time the deceit just becomes part of the job. She's trained for it out of necessity because it is more effective to lie.
I need to learn to look deeper into people's lives, into their hurt. They may be approaching me with very deceitful methods, but that doesn't mean their need is any less. This is a really difficult problem for me. I absolutely hate feeling lied to or deceived. It makes me bitter and hard hearted. The idea of giving in to someone's deceptions just about makes me want to vomit, yet I'm beginning to think that if I could learn to give with a loving heart, even in the face of lies and deception, God would have a much needed opening to grow my heart in love for the poor.
Please please be praying for me. I know that I don't (nor ever will) have all of the answers. I want to learn to love people in spite of how they are treating me. I want to learn to love them and love them fully, whatever that means and whatever that takes.
I need to learn to look deeper into people's lives, into their hurt. They may be approaching me with very deceitful methods, but that doesn't mean their need is any less. This is a really difficult problem for me. I absolutely hate feeling lied to or deceived. It makes me bitter and hard hearted. The idea of giving in to someone's deceptions just about makes me want to vomit, yet I'm beginning to think that if I could learn to give with a loving heart, even in the face of lies and deception, God would have a much needed opening to grow my heart in love for the poor.
Please please be praying for me. I know that I don't (nor ever will) have all of the answers. I want to learn to love people in spite of how they are treating me. I want to learn to love them and love them fully, whatever that means and whatever that takes.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Rickshaws
India has a form of transportation that is pretty much unknown to Americans. I am referring to their use of rickshaws. The rickshaws come in three varieties:
I feel sort of conflicted about the other ones. A large part of me is repulsed by the idea of paying someone else to carry me around, especially since I'm already a rich, white foreigner. It feels like I would just be using them like an animal. Also, since they are human powered, any distance they can take me I can probably travel by foot without too much trouble. As a result, I haven't used either a bike or foot powered rickshaw.
I'm starting to see another side of it though. The rickshaw wallahs (pullers) are all living in poverty and many are trying to support a family. They have chosen to work a back breaking job rather than choosing to beg for money. As it is they are probably just barely scraping by, and in many cases I suspect they make less money than some of the professional beggars. So now I'm contemplating if it may actually be better to make use of them to support the hard working wallahs.
I feel so conflicted, I want to support them, but I don't want to de-humanize them. For any and everyone out there reading this, what would you do?
- Rickshaws: These are the originals. They are a cart with a small bench seat and are pulled by a man on foot. My understanding is that these are no longer used... except in Kolkata.
- Bike Rickshaws: These are similar to the regular rickshaws, except that a bicycle is attached to the front so it can be pulled by pedal rather than by foot. Still, the energy to more the passenger is still provided by a man.
- Auto Rickshaws: These look sort of like golf carts. They have both a front and a back seat, and are powered by a small engine. Based on my observation, the controls seem to be similar to a motorcycle. Unlike the previous two types, which are hired like taxis, the auto rickshaws run along a specific route, similar to a bus, except the routes are much shorter. It is fairly common for 6 or more people (including the driver) to crowd into a single auto rickshaw.
I feel sort of conflicted about the other ones. A large part of me is repulsed by the idea of paying someone else to carry me around, especially since I'm already a rich, white foreigner. It feels like I would just be using them like an animal. Also, since they are human powered, any distance they can take me I can probably travel by foot without too much trouble. As a result, I haven't used either a bike or foot powered rickshaw.
I'm starting to see another side of it though. The rickshaw wallahs (pullers) are all living in poverty and many are trying to support a family. They have chosen to work a back breaking job rather than choosing to beg for money. As it is they are probably just barely scraping by, and in many cases I suspect they make less money than some of the professional beggars. So now I'm contemplating if it may actually be better to make use of them to support the hard working wallahs.
I feel so conflicted, I want to support them, but I don't want to de-humanize them. For any and everyone out there reading this, what would you do?
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Community
Last night our team discussed the book Learning to Love People You Don't Like. Yes, it is a kind of silly name, but the book was very worthwhile. It wasn't anything I would exactly call new or profound to me, but it was a very solid look at issues of unity within Christian community. There were a lot of things that really hit me as areas I need to work on... a lot. If you're part of a Christian community, then I suspect this book has something to offer you.
After discussing the book, our team discussed expectations and desires specifically for our community. Because of my years in IV in Claremont, and especially because of my summer at LAUP, there are a lot of things I really expect a community as small as ours (6 + 2 staff) to be able to do. I am having to realize a lot that the way I want our community to function isn't the only way. There are several ways I feel kind of disappointed about our community right now. You can definitely be praying for all of us as we seek God's (and not our own) desire for our community. I know we aren't ever going to be a perfect community, but I know there's a lot of ways that we can grow during our time here.
The next book our team will be reading is Rich Christians In an Age of Hunger. This book is much longer than either of our previous two books, so we'll be spending three weeks on it rather than just one.
After discussing the book, our team discussed expectations and desires specifically for our community. Because of my years in IV in Claremont, and especially because of my summer at LAUP, there are a lot of things I really expect a community as small as ours (6 + 2 staff) to be able to do. I am having to realize a lot that the way I want our community to function isn't the only way. There are several ways I feel kind of disappointed about our community right now. You can definitely be praying for all of us as we seek God's (and not our own) desire for our community. I know we aren't ever going to be a perfect community, but I know there's a lot of ways that we can grow during our time here.
The next book our team will be reading is Rich Christians In an Age of Hunger. This book is much longer than either of our previous two books, so we'll be spending three weeks on it rather than just one.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
What a Morning!
I woke up at about 6am this morning to the sound of very heavy rain and lots of thunder. We had some light rain last night, but other than that, this is the first time we've had anything but sunny (through the smog) and hot. I've heard that when Kolkata gets heavy rain, it means that you get to wade through sewage. With that thought in mind, I lay in bed wondering if it was really worth getting up. By 6:30 the sound of the rain was mostly gone, and I decided I should probably bite the bullet and get going. I took a cold shower (I'm not sure I'll ever get used to those), then woke Todd up and told him it was kind of on the late side. Todd was nice enough to rush through his morning routine, so we actually left about the same time as usual.
Once out of the apartment, I realized that my fears were entirely unjustified. A few hours of heavy rain only made the road a little muddy, with small puddles here and there. We caught our usual train and bus, then made it to Nabo Jibon by about 9am. I didn't feel much like having tea, so I grabbed my Bengali notes and headed to the TB ward. I've brought my Bengali notes there before, and even once had a patient request that I go get them when I came without them. Very few of the volunteers attempt to learn Bengali, so the patients get pretty excited when one comes through that is trying to learn.
Yesterday afternoon was our first Bengali lesson on verbs, so suddenly it feels like my ability to communicate in Bengali is about twenty times better. Granted it is still pretty limited, but it was way more limited without knowing any verbs. Anyway, I sat down with about three of them, and started using my verbs. I had to keep referring back to my notes, but they're used to that. Often they look at my notes to try and learn the English. Usually a lull will hit after I've been there for an hour or so, but not today. I was in there when their lunch time hit at 11am.
One of the men I was talking with managed to communicate that he wanted me to eat lunch with him. He disappeared for a couple of minutes, then returned with two plates of fish curry and rice. Up until today, I have always used silverware (not an Indian thing) to eat because it was available. Today, I just dug in with my right hand (The "clean" hand in Indian culture). It was weird to do, but functional enough. The curry was spicy, but not unbearable. I told him that it was spicy, and he offered me water. Not knowing where the water had come from, I didn't feel like I could safely drink it. Water that is safe for a native's well adjusted system could still do a number on me. After I was done eating he gave me water and a moist towelette to wash with. We tried to talk a little more, then I left to go spend some time in the chapel.
This man's hospitality really blew me away. We can still hardly communicate, but he clearly really wanted to share a meal with me. He did everything I could possibly imagine to serve me. Oh, he's the same guy that I was worried about because of his resistant TB. We had an American doctor visiting this week and he told me that the ward was plenty well ventilated and none of these patients were all that bad. Basically he said don't worry about it unless they're coughing on you. That in and of itself was a huge blessing.
So, the upshot of this morning was that on a day when I contemplated not getting out of bed on account of the weather, God provided some amazingly wonderful blessings. I never would have known what I was missing if I hadn't gotten up out of bed.
Once out of the apartment, I realized that my fears were entirely unjustified. A few hours of heavy rain only made the road a little muddy, with small puddles here and there. We caught our usual train and bus, then made it to Nabo Jibon by about 9am. I didn't feel much like having tea, so I grabbed my Bengali notes and headed to the TB ward. I've brought my Bengali notes there before, and even once had a patient request that I go get them when I came without them. Very few of the volunteers attempt to learn Bengali, so the patients get pretty excited when one comes through that is trying to learn.
Yesterday afternoon was our first Bengali lesson on verbs, so suddenly it feels like my ability to communicate in Bengali is about twenty times better. Granted it is still pretty limited, but it was way more limited without knowing any verbs. Anyway, I sat down with about three of them, and started using my verbs. I had to keep referring back to my notes, but they're used to that. Often they look at my notes to try and learn the English. Usually a lull will hit after I've been there for an hour or so, but not today. I was in there when their lunch time hit at 11am.
One of the men I was talking with managed to communicate that he wanted me to eat lunch with him. He disappeared for a couple of minutes, then returned with two plates of fish curry and rice. Up until today, I have always used silverware (not an Indian thing) to eat because it was available. Today, I just dug in with my right hand (The "clean" hand in Indian culture). It was weird to do, but functional enough. The curry was spicy, but not unbearable. I told him that it was spicy, and he offered me water. Not knowing where the water had come from, I didn't feel like I could safely drink it. Water that is safe for a native's well adjusted system could still do a number on me. After I was done eating he gave me water and a moist towelette to wash with. We tried to talk a little more, then I left to go spend some time in the chapel.
This man's hospitality really blew me away. We can still hardly communicate, but he clearly really wanted to share a meal with me. He did everything I could possibly imagine to serve me. Oh, he's the same guy that I was worried about because of his resistant TB. We had an American doctor visiting this week and he told me that the ward was plenty well ventilated and none of these patients were all that bad. Basically he said don't worry about it unless they're coughing on you. That in and of itself was a huge blessing.
So, the upshot of this morning was that on a day when I contemplated not getting out of bed on account of the weather, God provided some amazingly wonderful blessings. I never would have known what I was missing if I hadn't gotten up out of bed.
Source of the Problem
As I've mentioned before, Kolkata is a very dirty city. Much, much dirtier than any other city I've ever been in. The is a sign in the train station near our apartment that explains the problem:
Cleanliness: Our duty, your responsibility.Hmmm...
Friday, March 11, 2005
Beggars
On Wednesday night our team had our second poverty discussion. This one was specifically about how to deal with beggars. We each shared our experiences with them so far, and then looked at some passages from scripture. I won't go into detail on all of it, but I will say a little. It is certainly an issue everyone is struggling with and I think everyone has had experiences since getting here of both giving and holding back. We also didn't come to any final, all-encompassing answer about the perfect way to handle each and every one of our daily encounters with beggars.
We looked at several passages, but one in particular really struck me, Acts 3:1-10. There are many reasons I really liked this passage. A lot of them come down to the fact that it gives a wonderful example of loving a beggar, without really trying to answer any of the questions I often find myself stuck on. Is it good, bad, or neutral to give money? They don't have money, and they don't really say whether or not they would give the beggar money if they had any. You could argue all day on the question, but when it comes down to it, the passage doesn't give a clear answer one way or the other.
What they do give the beggar, even without the miracle is amazing. First, they both look him in the eyes. They acknowledge him and engage him as an actual person. I don't like to admit it, but it is very rare that I will acknowledge a beggar in that way. Heck, I have sometimes worn sunglasses specifically to avoid eye contact with beggars on the street. No matter what I do, surely it cannot be out of love if I don't treat them as a person. After that, Peter goes a step further by offering him a hand. I have rarely if ever touched a beggar on the street by choice. Many times they will cling to me while begging, and it makes me uncomfortable. They seem dirty to me and I don't want whatever is on them on me. All of this is dignity that they give the beggar. They could have done nothing else for him, and they still would have shown him more love than most beggars in Kolkata ever receive.
Then there's the miracle. A helpless crippled man regains a fully functional body. They gave him a gift that allowed him to work and provide for himself. They pulled him out of his poverty and despair in a way he couldn't have pulled himself. I don't really know how to do that for any of the beggars in Kolkata, but I really want to. I'm sure that often (perhaps always) God is calling me to smaller, less life changing acts of love. I need to learn to be faithful in those, and pray that God will use me for greater things too.
I'm not sure exactly how to tie this in, but it's an experience with a beggar during my second day in Kolkata that really struck me: I was in a group of four American males standing outside a sort of nice hotel. A beggar woman wearing a makeshift burlap saree came up and started asking for money really insistently. The hotel greeters told her to go away (I'm guessing at the words based on their gestures). She wouldn't go away, so they finally got out a coin (not sure how big), held it up and pointed toward the gate. They gave her the coin and then turned her around and gave her a little push. She did leave, but she was crying a bit. It was so so so de-humanizing to see them paying her to leave. It broke my heart but I didn't know what to do. I don't know the language and at the time I didn't have any money on me (longer story as to why not). In any case, I realized that if my giving was just a means of dealing with them and wasn't given out of love, then it was totally dishonoring to God. Then again, I can't say that just walking by them on the street as if they were scenery is any better. This was a very powerful experience for me. It didn't leave me with any clear answers, but it certainly convicted me of the importance of making sure that I only act out of love when dealing with beggars.
We looked at several passages, but one in particular really struck me, Acts 3:1-10. There are many reasons I really liked this passage. A lot of them come down to the fact that it gives a wonderful example of loving a beggar, without really trying to answer any of the questions I often find myself stuck on. Is it good, bad, or neutral to give money? They don't have money, and they don't really say whether or not they would give the beggar money if they had any. You could argue all day on the question, but when it comes down to it, the passage doesn't give a clear answer one way or the other.
What they do give the beggar, even without the miracle is amazing. First, they both look him in the eyes. They acknowledge him and engage him as an actual person. I don't like to admit it, but it is very rare that I will acknowledge a beggar in that way. Heck, I have sometimes worn sunglasses specifically to avoid eye contact with beggars on the street. No matter what I do, surely it cannot be out of love if I don't treat them as a person. After that, Peter goes a step further by offering him a hand. I have rarely if ever touched a beggar on the street by choice. Many times they will cling to me while begging, and it makes me uncomfortable. They seem dirty to me and I don't want whatever is on them on me. All of this is dignity that they give the beggar. They could have done nothing else for him, and they still would have shown him more love than most beggars in Kolkata ever receive.
Then there's the miracle. A helpless crippled man regains a fully functional body. They gave him a gift that allowed him to work and provide for himself. They pulled him out of his poverty and despair in a way he couldn't have pulled himself. I don't really know how to do that for any of the beggars in Kolkata, but I really want to. I'm sure that often (perhaps always) God is calling me to smaller, less life changing acts of love. I need to learn to be faithful in those, and pray that God will use me for greater things too.
I'm not sure exactly how to tie this in, but it's an experience with a beggar during my second day in Kolkata that really struck me: I was in a group of four American males standing outside a sort of nice hotel. A beggar woman wearing a makeshift burlap saree came up and started asking for money really insistently. The hotel greeters told her to go away (I'm guessing at the words based on their gestures). She wouldn't go away, so they finally got out a coin (not sure how big), held it up and pointed toward the gate. They gave her the coin and then turned her around and gave her a little push. She did leave, but she was crying a bit. It was so so so de-humanizing to see them paying her to leave. It broke my heart but I didn't know what to do. I don't know the language and at the time I didn't have any money on me (longer story as to why not). In any case, I realized that if my giving was just a means of dealing with them and wasn't given out of love, then it was totally dishonoring to God. Then again, I can't say that just walking by them on the street as if they were scenery is any better. This was a very powerful experience for me. It didn't leave me with any clear answers, but it certainly convicted me of the importance of making sure that I only act out of love when dealing with beggars.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Cricket
In India they have this game called cricket. You may have heard of it. Apparently it is a pretty big deal in many countries other than America. Anyway, there are some kids in the neighborhood where we live that will drop by to visit Todd and I once every day or two. They often come right after playing cricket together. On Monday when they dropped by they invited me to come play Cricket with them sometime. I guess they play at about 5pm on most days. I told them I'd play on Wednesday, so yesterday they dropped by and grabbed me to come play cricket with them.
I followed them around the neighborhood to an area I had never been to before. They hopped a fence to get into a field. It felt sort of weird and wrong to do that, but I did want to play with them and start getting to know them better. Besides, I figured it was probably just a shortcut. Once on the field I noticed that there was not any way to enter the field without hopping a fence or opening a locked gate. I started having visions of being arrested by the Kolkata police for trespassing. I don't think that's a phone call Kristin would have appreciated. There were other people in the park, and I never got arrested, so it seems like that's just an accepted part of life.
There were about 5 Indian boys (early teens I think) and 3 young men (early to mid twenties) playing... plus me. I had no clue what was going on, and they tended to talk with each other mostly in Bengali. I think they wanted to make me a team captain, but I declined. Then they had me up to bat first. I asked them what I was supposed to do, and they seemed surprised. Apparently they assumed I already knew how to play cricket. To teach me, they had me sit and watch while someone else batted. Someone else pitched, and the batter hit the ball off into far left field. One person went and got the ball, but everyone else just stood there. They informed me that our team now had 4 runs. The same guy batted again. After a few more bats they said he was out. It wasn't at all clear to me what caused him to be out or if that even means the same thing as in baseball. Now it was my turn. I hit the ball a few times, then they told me I should go stand over by the pitcher. I think I was out, but I wasn't really clear on it. They told me our team had 13 runs and was doing well.
We played some more, sometimes they told me to stand in certain areas and try to stop the ball from crossing certain boundary lines. Sometimes the batter would start to run towards the pitcher after he hit, but then would turn around and run back to where he was batting. Multiple times play would stop and they would start yelling at each other in Bengali. I think they were arguing about a call, but I can't say for sure. Maybe they were just excited about an amazing play that I missed the significance of. After about 45 minutes we stopped playing. I don't know if my team won or lost. I don't even really know exactly who my team was. I certainly don't know how in the world the game works, but I think I'll go play it with they again sometime. Perhaps I'll wait until after I read up on the rules of cricket online.
After the game I spent about another 45 minutes wandering around the neighborhood with a 25 year old Indian man named Indranil (Not sure on the spelling). He showed me some areas I didn't even know existed, then took me back to his home where his mother served us an amazing cup of cha (tea). He was a really nice guy and I enjoyed spending time talking with him. He only lives a block or so away from Todd and I, so I hope to continue building a relationship with him during my time here in Kolkata.
I followed them around the neighborhood to an area I had never been to before. They hopped a fence to get into a field. It felt sort of weird and wrong to do that, but I did want to play with them and start getting to know them better. Besides, I figured it was probably just a shortcut. Once on the field I noticed that there was not any way to enter the field without hopping a fence or opening a locked gate. I started having visions of being arrested by the Kolkata police for trespassing. I don't think that's a phone call Kristin would have appreciated. There were other people in the park, and I never got arrested, so it seems like that's just an accepted part of life.
There were about 5 Indian boys (early teens I think) and 3 young men (early to mid twenties) playing... plus me. I had no clue what was going on, and they tended to talk with each other mostly in Bengali. I think they wanted to make me a team captain, but I declined. Then they had me up to bat first. I asked them what I was supposed to do, and they seemed surprised. Apparently they assumed I already knew how to play cricket. To teach me, they had me sit and watch while someone else batted. Someone else pitched, and the batter hit the ball off into far left field. One person went and got the ball, but everyone else just stood there. They informed me that our team now had 4 runs. The same guy batted again. After a few more bats they said he was out. It wasn't at all clear to me what caused him to be out or if that even means the same thing as in baseball. Now it was my turn. I hit the ball a few times, then they told me I should go stand over by the pitcher. I think I was out, but I wasn't really clear on it. They told me our team had 13 runs and was doing well.
We played some more, sometimes they told me to stand in certain areas and try to stop the ball from crossing certain boundary lines. Sometimes the batter would start to run towards the pitcher after he hit, but then would turn around and run back to where he was batting. Multiple times play would stop and they would start yelling at each other in Bengali. I think they were arguing about a call, but I can't say for sure. Maybe they were just excited about an amazing play that I missed the significance of. After about 45 minutes we stopped playing. I don't know if my team won or lost. I don't even really know exactly who my team was. I certainly don't know how in the world the game works, but I think I'll go play it with they again sometime. Perhaps I'll wait until after I read up on the rules of cricket online.
After the game I spent about another 45 minutes wandering around the neighborhood with a 25 year old Indian man named Indranil (Not sure on the spelling). He showed me some areas I didn't even know existed, then took me back to his home where his mother served us an amazing cup of cha (tea). He was a really nice guy and I enjoyed spending time talking with him. He only lives a block or so away from Todd and I, so I hope to continue building a relationship with him during my time here in Kolkata.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Suffering
Every Tuesday night our team has a worship session. It is a combination of music, scripture, prayer, and usually a brief message. Each one is based on one of nine themes:
Just as Jesus suffers alongside of us, He is calling me to do the same for those around me. I realized once again how hard and selfish my heart is. I see so much poverty, suffering, and death around me every day in Kolkata. Yet I keep myself at a distance from all of it both emotionally and spiritually. If I have a concrete answer to a problem, then I may try to help, but most days I refuse to enter into the suffering of those around me. In particular, I realized how this has been affecting me at Nabo Jibon. I go every day and spend time with some combination of mentally handicapped boys, and men who are ill and/or dying. I choose to spend time with those that are easier to deal with. I have avoided the man with one shoulder swollen up to the size of a bowling ball. It is uncomfortable to look at him. Today I sat briefly with a man who can only barely move (neck injury I think) and whose fingers all bend the wrong way at the middle joint. Several of us were gathered around as he sang a song in Hindi. Yet my mind was stuck on my own discomfort from looking at him. In fact, my biggest worries at Nabo Jibon have all been about me: Is that kid's hand clean? Why did he just spit on me? Am I in danger of catching TB?
This needs to change. I need to learn how to enter into their suffering and share it with them. I don't have the power to heal them physically, but God has given me both the power and job of suffering along side of them, to let them know that they are not alone or forgotten, but that they are loved.
I want to close by sharing a prayer that was posted in Kalighat, Mother Teresa's original home for the dying:
- Brokenness
- Community
- Humility
- Intimacy
- Obedience
- Service
- Simplicity
- Submission
- Suffering
Just as Jesus suffers alongside of us, He is calling me to do the same for those around me. I realized once again how hard and selfish my heart is. I see so much poverty, suffering, and death around me every day in Kolkata. Yet I keep myself at a distance from all of it both emotionally and spiritually. If I have a concrete answer to a problem, then I may try to help, but most days I refuse to enter into the suffering of those around me. In particular, I realized how this has been affecting me at Nabo Jibon. I go every day and spend time with some combination of mentally handicapped boys, and men who are ill and/or dying. I choose to spend time with those that are easier to deal with. I have avoided the man with one shoulder swollen up to the size of a bowling ball. It is uncomfortable to look at him. Today I sat briefly with a man who can only barely move (neck injury I think) and whose fingers all bend the wrong way at the middle joint. Several of us were gathered around as he sang a song in Hindi. Yet my mind was stuck on my own discomfort from looking at him. In fact, my biggest worries at Nabo Jibon have all been about me: Is that kid's hand clean? Why did he just spit on me? Am I in danger of catching TB?
This needs to change. I need to learn how to enter into their suffering and share it with them. I don't have the power to heal them physically, but God has given me both the power and job of suffering along side of them, to let them know that they are not alone or forgotten, but that they are loved.
I want to close by sharing a prayer that was posted in Kalighat, Mother Teresa's original home for the dying:
DEAR LORD, THE GREAT HEALER,
I KNEEL BEFORE YOU,
SINCE EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT
MUST COME FROM YOU.
I PRAY, GIVE SKILL TO MY HAND,
CLEAR VISION TO MY MIND,
KINDNESS AND SYMPATHY TO MY HEART;
GIVE ME THE SINGLENESS OF PURPOSE,
STRENGTH TO LIFT AT LEAST A PART OF THE
BURDEN OF MY SUFFERING FELLOWMEN,
AND A TRUE REALIZATION OF THE
PRIVILEGE THAT IS MINE.
TAKE FROM MY HEART ALL GUILE
AND WORLDLINESS THAT WITH THE SIMPLE
FAITH OF A CHILD I MAY RELY ON YOU.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Exhausting
It hit me again today just how exhausting Kolkata is. I stayed up a bit too late last night talking with people, and was a little low on sleep going into the day. Nothing like what I used to pull at Mudd though. The bus rides generally wear me out quite a bit. The combination of a very bumpy ride, poor seats (if I even get a seat), the heat (which is still going to get a lot worse while I'm here), and the general stench of the city just combine in bad ways for me. I often feel nauseous while riding the buses.
Today was like that, plus a little added excitement on the way to Nabo Jibon. When I got there, I went over to the boys side and spent some time playing with them. I was really enjoying myself, and they were laughing, yelling, and generally showing signs of enjoyment. After being there for a bit over an hour though, I just hit a wall. I suddenly didn't have any energy. I went upstairs and laid down on a bench in the dining room.
When I got up it was the morning tea break, and some of the brothers asked me if I was feeling alright. I talked to them a bit, and they suggested I may be dehydrated. I already suspected that I hadn't been doing a great job of making sure to drink enough. One of them helped me mix up something that he said would help me retain water. It was a mixture of freshly squeezed lemon, salt, sugar, and water. It didn't taste great, but it didn't taste bad either. It was just kind of weird. I had some more water then, as well as with lunch, and I've been feeling pretty good ever since. I'm definitely planning to work harder at pushing fluids during the day.
Today was like that, plus a little added excitement on the way to Nabo Jibon. When I got there, I went over to the boys side and spent some time playing with them. I was really enjoying myself, and they were laughing, yelling, and generally showing signs of enjoyment. After being there for a bit over an hour though, I just hit a wall. I suddenly didn't have any energy. I went upstairs and laid down on a bench in the dining room.
When I got up it was the morning tea break, and some of the brothers asked me if I was feeling alright. I talked to them a bit, and they suggested I may be dehydrated. I already suspected that I hadn't been doing a great job of making sure to drink enough. One of them helped me mix up something that he said would help me retain water. It was a mixture of freshly squeezed lemon, salt, sugar, and water. It didn't taste great, but it didn't taste bad either. It was just kind of weird. I had some more water then, as well as with lunch, and I've been feeling pretty good ever since. I'm definitely planning to work harder at pushing fluids during the day.
Obey the Traffic Rule
That's what it reads on the backs of many of the buses in Kolkata. I'm sure that it's just a poor translation and they really meant "Obey the Traffic Rules" ... Then again, I have trouble even coming up with a single rule that they consistently seem to follow. In any case accidents seem to be pretty rare. Today was the first time I saw an accident, and I've been here for over two weeks.
I was on a bus, crossing the major bridge in town. The driver braked suddenly, and then I felt and heard something hit against the bus. All of us passengers held tight, and no one seemed to be thrown around too much. Out the right window I saw a small white car spinning around in the other direction of traffic. Then I saw what looked like a small windshield. Finally, we passed a vehicle turned on it's side. It was an auto rickshaw, and as far as I could tell, its top was completely missing. I didn't see any bodies anywhere, so I have no clue how badly people were hurt. All I know is that a rickshaw is about the last vehicle I would want to be in if I was in an accident.
The bus continued to drive across the bridge as if nothing had happened. It stopped at a bus station and I got off to transfer to another bus. I thought about running back to make sure people were ok and try to help, but I realized it was pretty much just some desire to be a hero and there really wasn't much of anything I would be able to do to help. Then I realized that I was wrong, and took some time to pray as I waited for my bus to come.
I was on a bus, crossing the major bridge in town. The driver braked suddenly, and then I felt and heard something hit against the bus. All of us passengers held tight, and no one seemed to be thrown around too much. Out the right window I saw a small white car spinning around in the other direction of traffic. Then I saw what looked like a small windshield. Finally, we passed a vehicle turned on it's side. It was an auto rickshaw, and as far as I could tell, its top was completely missing. I didn't see any bodies anywhere, so I have no clue how badly people were hurt. All I know is that a rickshaw is about the last vehicle I would want to be in if I was in an accident.
The bus continued to drive across the bridge as if nothing had happened. It stopped at a bus station and I got off to transfer to another bus. I thought about running back to make sure people were ok and try to help, but I realized it was pretty much just some desire to be a hero and there really wasn't much of anything I would be able to do to help. Then I realized that I was wrong, and took some time to pray as I waited for my bus to come.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Animals
Among all of the people crowding Kolkata, there are also a bunch of animals inhabiting this city. Although I've heard stories of monkeys in other parts of India, I have yet to see any here. I've also only seen one cow, another animal I was expecting a lot more of. I did see a group of sheep being led down a semi-major road once, but again, they aren't something I see day to day.
The animals I do see all the time are cats and dogs, with a strong majority of them being dogs. Almost anywhere I go, I can just look around and see at least one. Unlike pets in America, no one is taking care of these ones. They pretty much all look awful. They are clearly diseased. They are missing spots of hair or sometimes don't even have much hair left. They have unsightly growths all over them. I would probably be fearful of them, except that they move slowly and I have never seen them try to approach a human. They seem to split their time between sleeping and digging through garbage looking for food. Garbage, by the way, just sits in piles all over the place. It is one of the many factors contributing to the general stink of the city. Saturday was the first time that I saw one dead. It was laying on the side of the road. There was a swarm of flies all over it and the eye sockets were empty. I'm actually kind of surprised I haven't seen more.
Like so many other things in Kolkata, it is hard to see. I love animals, but these ones just make me cringe. In the midst of all the other problems, they don't seem all that important, but I still hate seeing them live such horrid lives. I'm not really sure why I felt like sharing all of this. It's just another part of my daily life here in Kolkata. It isn't the hardest thing I have to deal with, but it does get to me after a while.
The animals I do see all the time are cats and dogs, with a strong majority of them being dogs. Almost anywhere I go, I can just look around and see at least one. Unlike pets in America, no one is taking care of these ones. They pretty much all look awful. They are clearly diseased. They are missing spots of hair or sometimes don't even have much hair left. They have unsightly growths all over them. I would probably be fearful of them, except that they move slowly and I have never seen them try to approach a human. They seem to split their time between sleeping and digging through garbage looking for food. Garbage, by the way, just sits in piles all over the place. It is one of the many factors contributing to the general stink of the city. Saturday was the first time that I saw one dead. It was laying on the side of the road. There was a swarm of flies all over it and the eye sockets were empty. I'm actually kind of surprised I haven't seen more.
Like so many other things in Kolkata, it is hard to see. I love animals, but these ones just make me cringe. In the midst of all the other problems, they don't seem all that important, but I still hate seeing them live such horrid lives. I'm not really sure why I felt like sharing all of this. It's just another part of my daily life here in Kolkata. It isn't the hardest thing I have to deal with, but it does get to me after a while.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Cups
Our team had our discussion of Can You Drink the Cup last night. As seems to be usual of Nouwen's books, it was short but deep... and I definitely didn't read through it slowly enough.
After talking about it, Kristin had each of us journal about what our cup is for Kolkata, and then share our journaling with the group. It's a pretty open question of who we are, what God has for us here, what we brought into the trip, etc. I pretty much sat their for half of the time not sure what to write, and then decided to write about the feelings about community that I brought into this trip. I think I came into this trip with more specific ideas about community than anyone else on the team. I have certainly had to do some adjusting as I realized that not everyone shared my visions about community.
After that, Kristin gave each of us a gift. They were all cups to use as symbols to remember what we read, talked, and shared about. We used the cups to toast each other. This basically meant an affirmation time. It was amazing to realize how much we have already seen of each other in just two weeks. I wrote down what people said about me in my journal. I find that sort of thing to be an invaluable weapon when Satan starts speaking lies to me about my value on the team. I later compared that list with the same sort of list that I brought out of LAUP. There were certainly some similarities, but a lot of differences too. I wonder how much of that is how I've actually changed in the past six months, and how much is just the differences in people and surroundings that bring out different sides of me. In any case, it was really good to hear what everyone said about each other.
The next book our team will be reading is Learning to Love People You Don't Like. We will be discussing it as a team next Saturday.
After talking about it, Kristin had each of us journal about what our cup is for Kolkata, and then share our journaling with the group. It's a pretty open question of who we are, what God has for us here, what we brought into the trip, etc. I pretty much sat their for half of the time not sure what to write, and then decided to write about the feelings about community that I brought into this trip. I think I came into this trip with more specific ideas about community than anyone else on the team. I have certainly had to do some adjusting as I realized that not everyone shared my visions about community.
After that, Kristin gave each of us a gift. They were all cups to use as symbols to remember what we read, talked, and shared about. We used the cups to toast each other. This basically meant an affirmation time. It was amazing to realize how much we have already seen of each other in just two weeks. I wrote down what people said about me in my journal. I find that sort of thing to be an invaluable weapon when Satan starts speaking lies to me about my value on the team. I later compared that list with the same sort of list that I brought out of LAUP. There were certainly some similarities, but a lot of differences too. I wonder how much of that is how I've actually changed in the past six months, and how much is just the differences in people and surroundings that bring out different sides of me. In any case, it was really good to hear what everyone said about each other.
The next book our team will be reading is Learning to Love People You Don't Like. We will be discussing it as a team next Saturday.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Breaking Down the Language Barrier
Our team has now had two lessons in Bengali, the prominent language in this part of India. That, however, has nothing to do with what this post is really about.
Today Todd brought "his" (really WMF's) guitar along to Nabo Jibon. He played some songs for the handicapped kids and I joined him on vocals. We started with a bunch of worship songs we know, but did some other stuff too... including a kid's song we realized part way through that we didn't know all of the words to. The kids seemed to love it. Some listened, some danced (as much as they were able anyway). Todd sang the Spanish song about the faith of a mustard seed and moving mountains. I can't tell you the name of the song since it's in Spanish. This caught the attention of several volunteers from Spain. They loved hearing it. I suspect they don't get a whole lot of Spanish in Kolkata.
After the kids were in bed for their post-lunch naps, we moved on to the TB ward and general ward. We sang exclusively worship music there, with a lot more hymns mixed in than with the kids. Although the patients probably couldn't understand most of the lyrics, they clearly enjoyed it and clapped for us when we finished. Thanks to our limited knowledge of Bengali we were able to understand one of the patients. "Jeshu gan" (Jesus song). I don't know exactly why, but it was really encouraging that they knew we were singing about Jesus.
Todd and I won't do that every day, but it was clear that music is a language that can communicate across language barriers.
Today Todd brought "his" (really WMF's) guitar along to Nabo Jibon. He played some songs for the handicapped kids and I joined him on vocals. We started with a bunch of worship songs we know, but did some other stuff too... including a kid's song we realized part way through that we didn't know all of the words to. The kids seemed to love it. Some listened, some danced (as much as they were able anyway). Todd sang the Spanish song about the faith of a mustard seed and moving mountains. I can't tell you the name of the song since it's in Spanish. This caught the attention of several volunteers from Spain. They loved hearing it. I suspect they don't get a whole lot of Spanish in Kolkata.
After the kids were in bed for their post-lunch naps, we moved on to the TB ward and general ward. We sang exclusively worship music there, with a lot more hymns mixed in than with the kids. Although the patients probably couldn't understand most of the lyrics, they clearly enjoyed it and clapped for us when we finished. Thanks to our limited knowledge of Bengali we were able to understand one of the patients. "Jeshu gan" (Jesus song). I don't know exactly why, but it was really encouraging that they knew we were singing about Jesus.
Todd and I won't do that every day, but it was clear that music is a language that can communicate across language barriers.
Encouraged by Scripture
Life in Kolkata is full of ups and downs. Sometimes I feel like there is no better place for me to be. At other times I feel completely useless and wish I was back enjoying the comforts of the United States. It seems like most days are filled with both of those feelings. Several passages I have stumbled upon recently have offered me quite a bit of comfort.
Naaman's servants went to him and said, "My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, 'Wash and be cleansed'!" (verse 13 of 2 Kings 5:1-15)Naaman is told to do something simple, but refuses to do it. He sees a big problem (his leprosy) and expects to do something great to change it. When no great option is available, he chooses to do nothing instead. This is a trap I fall into a lot too. I see the problems of this city, or even just those of a single person. They seem so overwhelming and I want to change them. The problem is that I want to do something great, but can't. I am left feeling useless because I am unable to be great. Yet God generally isn't calling me to do great things, for greatness is for Him alone. Instead God is calling me into simple acts of love. Through those acts He can work great things, but first He needs me to give up my own desire for greatness.
"I tell you the truth," Jesus said to them, "no one who has left home or wife or brothers or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God will fail to receive many times as much in this age and, in the age to come, eternal life." (Luke 18:29-30)So often while I am here in Kolkata I find myself longing for things back home. Sometimes it is a person, sometimes a thing, sometimes just a breath of clean air. It is a great comfort to me when I realize that through my sacrifice, even of just four months, God promises far greater things for me. It is can be easy to lose sight of God's daily blessings (like my amazing team) when I get so strung up on what I don't have.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Poverty Discussions
Last night we had the first of our weekly discussions on poverty. In future weeks we will actually be studying scripture, but for the first week we just talked about poverty and had a brief teaching from Kristin. It was interesting to see all of the different places and experiences people were coming from. I was also deeply struck by some of the difficult realities of poverty.
One situation in particular really struck me. There is a family in a village outside of Kolkata that have a better house than those around them thanks to the generosity of some past Word Made Flesh staff. They still don't have a lot, but I am glad for what they do have. This has created a large problem. The family is trying to get their daughter married off. In India, that requires giving the husband-to-be a dowry (Don't get me started on how much I hate those). The specific man can clearly observe that the family is better off because of the American money. As a result, he is requesting a completely unreasonable dowry (A house in Kolkata!). On top of that, the current relationship between that family and Word Made Flesh staff has been hurt because the family just expects money from the WMF staff. It is a really messy situation resulting from moving money around without changing the underlying structures.
When we were done with the discussion our team just took some time to pray about issues of poverty in the world. It was a really great time of coming together in Christ and letting our hearts be broken for the things that break God's heart.
A closing thought: If you are helping to fight poverty by giving money, but aren't willing to be directly involved, in your heart are you really helping, or just paying not to have to deal with the difficult issues of poverty?
One situation in particular really struck me. There is a family in a village outside of Kolkata that have a better house than those around them thanks to the generosity of some past Word Made Flesh staff. They still don't have a lot, but I am glad for what they do have. This has created a large problem. The family is trying to get their daughter married off. In India, that requires giving the husband-to-be a dowry (Don't get me started on how much I hate those). The specific man can clearly observe that the family is better off because of the American money. As a result, he is requesting a completely unreasonable dowry (A house in Kolkata!). On top of that, the current relationship between that family and Word Made Flesh staff has been hurt because the family just expects money from the WMF staff. It is a really messy situation resulting from moving money around without changing the underlying structures.
When we were done with the discussion our team just took some time to pray about issues of poverty in the world. It was a really great time of coming together in Christ and letting our hearts be broken for the things that break God's heart.
A closing thought: If you are helping to fight poverty by giving money, but aren't willing to be directly involved, in your heart are you really helping, or just paying not to have to deal with the difficult issues of poverty?
Goodbye Nepal Team
Today the Nepal team left on a train for southern India. By Tuesday they will be in Sri Lanka. After that they will finally make it to Nepal where they will spend the rest of their time. It seems unlikely that I will get to see all of them again, particularly with one of the women being from Uganda. I guess I'll just have to trust that if God wants it to happen then we will cross paths again.
Even though we only had two weeks together, they were probably two of the most intense weeks of our lives. God blessed me through each of them, and they all became very dear to me. I am going to miss each and every one of them.
I do, however, realize that it wouldn't have been good for them to stay with us the whole four months. It was really hard to create deep team intimacy with eleven of us. With only six left, we should be able to grow much closer as a team. Although there wasn't a single person I could have picked out to leave, I am glad to have the smaller team.
Gloria, Jen, Jesse, Julie, and Liz: I love you all! You will all be in my daily prayers. Thank you so much for sharing your love and your lives with me. Wherever you end up in life, I know that you will be serving God in humility and love.
Even though we only had two weeks together, they were probably two of the most intense weeks of our lives. God blessed me through each of them, and they all became very dear to me. I am going to miss each and every one of them.
I do, however, realize that it wouldn't have been good for them to stay with us the whole four months. It was really hard to create deep team intimacy with eleven of us. With only six left, we should be able to grow much closer as a team. Although there wasn't a single person I could have picked out to leave, I am glad to have the smaller team.
Gloria, Jen, Jesse, Julie, and Liz: I love you all! You will all be in my daily prayers. Thank you so much for sharing your love and your lives with me. Wherever you end up in life, I know that you will be serving God in humility and love.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Worn Out
This morning at Nabo Jibon was really hard on me simply because I was really worn out. I knew it as soon as I got there, but just went at it for a while. Eventually I just hit a wall. I went up to their dining room and laid down on a wooden bench. It helped a little, but I still didn't feel great. I'm wondering if the dirt of this city is starting to catch up to me. I'm finding that while riding the buses in heavy traffic (traffic is always heavy) I often start to feel a little nauseous because of all of the fumes. Walking around the city when there are piles of garbage just sitting around doesn't help either. Tomorrow (Thursday) is a day off for us, so hopefully the extra rest will help me to start feeling better. Please be praying for my health and the health of the rest of the team. It is hard enough being in Kolkata when I'm feeling 100%.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
New Struggles From Nabo Jibon
Today was my fourth day at Nabo Jibon. As always, I was blessed to be there, however there were several new challenges. Both came from talking with one of the brothers there. First, he pulled Todd and I aside to talk about the TB patients. He warned us about several that we should be particularly careful about being around because they have unusually resistant strains of it. When he pointed them out my heart dropped. One of them was a man that I had really been working to build relationship with. I really enjoy his company and he has started asking when I will be back again. I don't feel like in good faith I can just pull away from him when he sees me interacting with the other men. What does it mean that his TB has been particularly resistant to medication? Am I in danger of catching an incurable case of TB? Please pray for Todd and I as we struggle with these questions and search for ways to greater love the men in the TB ward.
The second hard thing is what the brother showed us. He led us outside to show us a new patient that they had just brought in off of the street (Twice each week they make trips looking for men dying on the street that they can bring to Nabo Jibon). There were several men around him operating on him. I saw just enough to know that I didn't want to see any more. There was a large open wound on the back of his upper right thigh. In the wound there were maggots crawling around. Flies were swarming around him. Todd and I stood at a distance, both of us feeling a bit weak at what we had seen. The brother saw it in our faces and reassured us that he was like that originally too. Over his years of service at Nabo Jibon he has learned to get past the wound to love the wounded.
I am very grateful that Nabo Jibon exists and that there are men there that have dedicated their life to God's service in this way. Please pray for them and pray for Todd and I as we learn how God is calling us to serve the men there.
The second hard thing is what the brother showed us. He led us outside to show us a new patient that they had just brought in off of the street (Twice each week they make trips looking for men dying on the street that they can bring to Nabo Jibon). There were several men around him operating on him. I saw just enough to know that I didn't want to see any more. There was a large open wound on the back of his upper right thigh. In the wound there were maggots crawling around. Flies were swarming around him. Todd and I stood at a distance, both of us feeling a bit weak at what we had seen. The brother saw it in our faces and reassured us that he was like that originally too. Over his years of service at Nabo Jibon he has learned to get past the wound to love the wounded.
I am very grateful that Nabo Jibon exists and that there are men there that have dedicated their life to God's service in this way. Please pray for them and pray for Todd and I as we learn how God is calling us to serve the men there.
Incomplete Story
This isn't a post that I really want to write, but I feel that out of honesty I have to write it. If you haven't read this post from yesterday, go back and read it first. This post will be a continuation of the story I began in that post.
Yesterday I went back to the armless man on the street. Once again I brought an egg roll that I could feed him. It still seemed like a small, insufficient thing to do, but I was glad to do it. Unfortunately things just weren't the same this time. Several things happened that complicated the situation a lot. First of all, as I walked up to him I saw him scratch himself with his right arm, then hide it away under his body. I realized that I had been fooled into believing that this man's condition was worse than it actually was. Still, he was disabled, and I had an egg roll for him. I began to feed him.
Jen was along with me this time, and a man from London started talking with her. Apparently he's been in the area for several years working with the Missionaries of Charity and some other NGOs. I didn't like what I heard from him. In fact, at first I was angry and wished he would go away. I realized (eventually) that he knew better than I did though. There is a MC (Missionaries of Charity) home where physically disabled people are trained and given the equipment to make a living. Most of the people there have leprosy, but that isn't a necessity. Anyone living on the street would know about this place. Unfortunately they also know that they can make a better living by begging. Many of the beggars do better than the street merchants. It isn't that they don't have other options, it is just that they choose to beg as a profession. It makes me think I should be paying more than seven rupees for my egg rolls to support someone who is likely equally poor, but is willing to work.
I will say that spending a few rupees now and then on professional deceivers isn't the end of the world. I'd rather not do it, but it won't kill me either. Here's what really upsets me: There are still people on the street that genuinely cannot get food for themselves and/or their children in any other way. Unfortunately they usually aren't as good at begging as the professional beggars. Thus because of the professional beggars, little if any generosity makes it to them. As far as I'm concerned, the professional beggars are stealing from those that are truly needy. This reality is very disturbing and upsetting to me.
I realize, however, that they is an even greater evil. Every day Satan is working to harden my heart and every other generous heart in Kolkata. This is a hard city to live in, and the harder I let my heart get, the easier it is to get through the day. I know, however, that this is not the heart of God. Please be praying for softness of heart for me and for the team. Please pray that God will guide us as we struggle with the difficult questions of when to give, what to give, and how to give in a loving way that is honoring to God. Our team will be struggling with this issue throughout our four months in Kolkata.
Yesterday I went back to the armless man on the street. Once again I brought an egg roll that I could feed him. It still seemed like a small, insufficient thing to do, but I was glad to do it. Unfortunately things just weren't the same this time. Several things happened that complicated the situation a lot. First of all, as I walked up to him I saw him scratch himself with his right arm, then hide it away under his body. I realized that I had been fooled into believing that this man's condition was worse than it actually was. Still, he was disabled, and I had an egg roll for him. I began to feed him.
Jen was along with me this time, and a man from London started talking with her. Apparently he's been in the area for several years working with the Missionaries of Charity and some other NGOs. I didn't like what I heard from him. In fact, at first I was angry and wished he would go away. I realized (eventually) that he knew better than I did though. There is a MC (Missionaries of Charity) home where physically disabled people are trained and given the equipment to make a living. Most of the people there have leprosy, but that isn't a necessity. Anyone living on the street would know about this place. Unfortunately they also know that they can make a better living by begging. Many of the beggars do better than the street merchants. It isn't that they don't have other options, it is just that they choose to beg as a profession. It makes me think I should be paying more than seven rupees for my egg rolls to support someone who is likely equally poor, but is willing to work.
I will say that spending a few rupees now and then on professional deceivers isn't the end of the world. I'd rather not do it, but it won't kill me either. Here's what really upsets me: There are still people on the street that genuinely cannot get food for themselves and/or their children in any other way. Unfortunately they usually aren't as good at begging as the professional beggars. Thus because of the professional beggars, little if any generosity makes it to them. As far as I'm concerned, the professional beggars are stealing from those that are truly needy. This reality is very disturbing and upsetting to me.
I realize, however, that they is an even greater evil. Every day Satan is working to harden my heart and every other generous heart in Kolkata. This is a hard city to live in, and the harder I let my heart get, the easier it is to get through the day. I know, however, that this is not the heart of God. Please be praying for softness of heart for me and for the team. Please pray that God will guide us as we struggle with the difficult questions of when to give, what to give, and how to give in a loving way that is honoring to God. Our team will be struggling with this issue throughout our four months in Kolkata.
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