I have temporarily moved to my other blog. Please come on over.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Ten lessons only India could have taught me.
I have spent nearly four months in India this year. I'm a better person for it. I can't say the lessons learned have been easy and that India was a paradise. They weren't and it isn't. I'm so glad I went and here are just a few of the reasons why.
1. I have an appreciation for clean, pure drinking water. When Christ uses "living" water as figurative imagery in the Bible, I get it. I really get it. Safe drinking water was essential for survival in the hot, humid Indian climate and I learned to always carry water with me wherever I went. I'm grateful for the deeper understanding that experience gave me regarding the importance of never being far from another essential source: the words and teachings of the Savior.
2. I'm grateful for the scientists and doctors who have devoted their life's work to preventing and immunizing children against common childhood diseases such as measles and whooping cough.
3. I'm glad that I have been blessed with competent, accessible medical and dental care.
4. I appreciate the education that I and my family have received. We worked hard for that knowledge, but the tools for self-improvement were readily available if we put forth the effort.
5. I'm glad that I live in a world where women are respected and allowed to fulfill their dreams and ambitions.
6. I am forever proud to be a citizen of the United States of America, a Country that has not yet forgotten its poor and humble. It is a privilege and an honor to pay taxes in such a country.
7. I am so blessed to be able to read and to have ready library access to virtually any book that may catch my fancy.
8. I appreciate all the modern conveniences of a kitchen - running water, pots, pans, plates, silverware, glasses . . . . . .all of it.
9. I'm glad for traffic rules and regulations in the U.S. Even though I'm presently dodging a photo radar ticket, I'm still grateful for traffic safety.
10. I love our clean air, our clean streets, and especially the garbage pick-up service.
There you have it. I could name more, but ten will have to do. Thank you, India, for humbling me. Thank you for bringing me out of my self-satisfied, smug, secure cocoon. Thank you for teaching me that I'm made of tougher stuff than I imagined. And thank you for helping me to become a human being.
May I never forget you, India. I can't. You have all my money now.
1. I have an appreciation for clean, pure drinking water. When Christ uses "living" water as figurative imagery in the Bible, I get it. I really get it. Safe drinking water was essential for survival in the hot, humid Indian climate and I learned to always carry water with me wherever I went. I'm grateful for the deeper understanding that experience gave me regarding the importance of never being far from another essential source: the words and teachings of the Savior.
2. I'm grateful for the scientists and doctors who have devoted their life's work to preventing and immunizing children against common childhood diseases such as measles and whooping cough.
3. I'm glad that I have been blessed with competent, accessible medical and dental care.
4. I appreciate the education that I and my family have received. We worked hard for that knowledge, but the tools for self-improvement were readily available if we put forth the effort.
5. I'm glad that I live in a world where women are respected and allowed to fulfill their dreams and ambitions.
6. I am forever proud to be a citizen of the United States of America, a Country that has not yet forgotten its poor and humble. It is a privilege and an honor to pay taxes in such a country.
7. I am so blessed to be able to read and to have ready library access to virtually any book that may catch my fancy.
8. I appreciate all the modern conveniences of a kitchen - running water, pots, pans, plates, silverware, glasses . . . . . .all of it.
9. I'm glad for traffic rules and regulations in the U.S. Even though I'm presently dodging a photo radar ticket, I'm still grateful for traffic safety.
10. I love our clean air, our clean streets, and especially the garbage pick-up service.
There you have it. I could name more, but ten will have to do. Thank you, India, for humbling me. Thank you for bringing me out of my self-satisfied, smug, secure cocoon. Thank you for teaching me that I'm made of tougher stuff than I imagined. And thank you for helping me to become a human being.
May I never forget you, India. I can't. You have all my money now.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Three wonderful things about India
Michael, Vennila, and Stephen - what you do with your new lives is entirely up to you now. We aren't your babysitters, sponsors, or landlords. We're just your friends.
Now get busy.
Love,
Mike and Betty
Friday, July 6, 2012
WHEAR Your Seatbelts
Honestly. I'm thinking of applying for a work visa and coming over here for six months to clean house. The plan is to work for the Indian Government, what tattered remnant of that inept institution remains. I will apply for a position as an English translator. My sole responsibility will be to correct traffic and business signs. Our very favorite sign so far is "Tolet". We thought it meant "toilet" for DAYS. Then we realized there is no such thing as a public toilet. We were stumped. AHA. A light bulb went on (in Mike's head, I must confess). If a space is inserted between To and let, what do you get?
YES, my friends! There is a flat TO LET. Translation: Apartment for rent.
One thing the Indians have a great deal of confidence in is their ability to speak, read, and write English. I must sadly inform you that their confidence is ill advised. Adjectives, verb tense, adverbs, indeedy, even subjects, can appear anywhere at any time in oral conversation. "I be most pleesed to inform you Madam that your failure to understand a single word an "English Speaking Indian" is saying to you is undoubtedly YOUR fault because you are a not smartest person".
Forget trying to read anything an Indian writes. Here's the best part about the entire charade. Indians are blissfully unaware of their language limitations. They become highly offended when our eyes glaze over and we tentatively ask for a translation of the OBVIOUS written transaction. We have dozens of business transaction notices that are written in such a way that we may or may not have spent 60 rupees or 60,000 rupees at Shankar Ram's House of Physic Pleasures. Who knows? What fun it's going to be when we return home and get our Visa card bill. What we were charged for versus what we actually bought will most certainly be endlessly entertaining. We probably went to many exotic and exciting places we can't remember having ever visited.
So. Remember! WHEAR your seatbelts. and HELLMETS Save LIFES. We certainly can't fault India for its creativity. Could someone please send us an English Dictionary? We are forgotten our own selfs how to spoke the English Tong.
YES, my friends! There is a flat TO LET. Translation: Apartment for rent.
One thing the Indians have a great deal of confidence in is their ability to speak, read, and write English. I must sadly inform you that their confidence is ill advised. Adjectives, verb tense, adverbs, indeedy, even subjects, can appear anywhere at any time in oral conversation. "I be most pleesed to inform you Madam that your failure to understand a single word an "English Speaking Indian" is saying to you is undoubtedly YOUR fault because you are a not smartest person".
Forget trying to read anything an Indian writes. Here's the best part about the entire charade. Indians are blissfully unaware of their language limitations. They become highly offended when our eyes glaze over and we tentatively ask for a translation of the OBVIOUS written transaction. We have dozens of business transaction notices that are written in such a way that we may or may not have spent 60 rupees or 60,000 rupees at Shankar Ram's House of Physic Pleasures. Who knows? What fun it's going to be when we return home and get our Visa card bill. What we were charged for versus what we actually bought will most certainly be endlessly entertaining. We probably went to many exotic and exciting places we can't remember having ever visited.
So. Remember! WHEAR your seatbelts. and HELLMETS Save LIFES. We certainly can't fault India for its creativity. Could someone please send us an English Dictionary? We are forgotten our own selfs how to spoke the English Tong.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
The "Corpse Truck"
I can never take the good pictures. A couple of days ago, we breezed by what looked like a bread delivery truck parked on the sidewalk. On its side were written the words, "Corpse Truck. Death is not the end of life." They were picking up human remains from the street.
Just when I think I can't be stunned or surprised by India, she delivers another punch to the stomach.
Just when I think I can't be stunned or surprised by India, she delivers another punch to the stomach.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Maternity Ward
So many things to talk about. So little time. An internet 'service' that is possessed of evil, reincarnated spirits. But here I am for a few moments, anyway. And even though I write this for the benefit of everyone, I am especially thinking of Brad and Diane Lien, Hal and Kay Carman, and Kris and Adrian Carbine. Here is the way your beautiful children most likely got their start in life:
Last week, Vennila and I took a break from all the work we have been doing and we went to the hospital to see our friend who had just delivered a little baby boy.
I'll do my best to describe the scene for you, but I may not have adequate words or the emotional reserves. We'll see how it goes.
A public hospital in a third world country. H-m-m-m-m. How to tell you? When we arrived at the hospital, there were women everywhere in various stages of their pregnancies sitting or lying in the dirt outside of the entrance to the 'hospital'. The hospital itself resembled a parking garage - a very dirty parking garage. We walked up a long, filthy, enclosed bare cement ramp until we reached the maternity ward. This is what I saw:
We entered a large room with four rows of approximately 15 beds in each row. Upon each bed lay a new mother and her newborn baby. I did not see a single baby that was not underweight and malnourished. Our friend's baby weighed less than five pounds at birth. I'm not a doctor, but I didn't have to be to see that at least half of the babies there should have been in some kind of intensive care unit. No baby had a diaper on. No mother had even a blanket or a pillow. What little clothing the babies wore had been provided by their mothers. Forget the fathers. Nearly 50 of them were no-shows.
Our friend's 'husband' had already abused her and kicked her out to sleep in the streets many times during her pregnancy. She had the misfortune to be born with a leg deformity that causes a significant, noticeable limp. Undesirable women are married to 'men' (I use this term loosely) who are likely going to be abusive, alcoholic, worthless, jobless, jerks. Our friend's husband did not even bother to come to the hospital to see his son. When she leaves the hospital with her underweight child, she will have to throw herself upon the mercy of family members who may or may not feel inclined to care for or feed two more people. Her husband has kicked her out into the streets for good.
Brad and Diane, Hal and Kay, Kris and Adrian, this is very likely how your own beautiful children got their own starts in life. I hope enough time hasn't gone by that you don't kiss and hold them at every opportunity. Tell them that you love them every time you speak their names. For every child you rescued, there are thousands of children who have entered life with no safety net of any kind. India has the highest infant mortality rate in the world. India is a country with no soul.
Every day, we see such sadness, it overwhelms us. We are living out of the safety of an organized 'tour' group or service organization. We see things tourists are protected from seeing.
Our own beautiful Vennila's two beautiful boys each weighed less than five pounds at birth. She was fifteen when Stephen was born and seventeen when Michael came along. Her sons were born in a maternity ward like the one I just tried to describe. Her 'husband' did not come to see her.
This is so long. It is so sad. When I'm not poking fun of India and Indians, I'm crying. Mike has cried. We have been humbled every day. There is PLENTY of situations that have been hilarious. I would have rather told you about those. Somehow, it just didn't seem appropriate until I described how so many of God's precious children begin their lives. May God bless the children of India forever. Give them the souls that their government lacks.
The internet will be gone a few minutes. I did not and could not give this experience the respect and anguish that I felt. I'm so sorry. When Vennila and I left our friend, she was sobbing uncontrollably. All that I could do was tell her that with her baby boy, she had a reason to live, a soul to love, a future to work toward, and a son who would grow up one day to love her. Was I wrong to say so? Please, God. Don't let it be so.
Bye for now.
Last week, Vennila and I took a break from all the work we have been doing and we went to the hospital to see our friend who had just delivered a little baby boy.
I'll do my best to describe the scene for you, but I may not have adequate words or the emotional reserves. We'll see how it goes.
A public hospital in a third world country. H-m-m-m-m. How to tell you? When we arrived at the hospital, there were women everywhere in various stages of their pregnancies sitting or lying in the dirt outside of the entrance to the 'hospital'. The hospital itself resembled a parking garage - a very dirty parking garage. We walked up a long, filthy, enclosed bare cement ramp until we reached the maternity ward. This is what I saw:
We entered a large room with four rows of approximately 15 beds in each row. Upon each bed lay a new mother and her newborn baby. I did not see a single baby that was not underweight and malnourished. Our friend's baby weighed less than five pounds at birth. I'm not a doctor, but I didn't have to be to see that at least half of the babies there should have been in some kind of intensive care unit. No baby had a diaper on. No mother had even a blanket or a pillow. What little clothing the babies wore had been provided by their mothers. Forget the fathers. Nearly 50 of them were no-shows.
Our friend's 'husband' had already abused her and kicked her out to sleep in the streets many times during her pregnancy. She had the misfortune to be born with a leg deformity that causes a significant, noticeable limp. Undesirable women are married to 'men' (I use this term loosely) who are likely going to be abusive, alcoholic, worthless, jobless, jerks. Our friend's husband did not even bother to come to the hospital to see his son. When she leaves the hospital with her underweight child, she will have to throw herself upon the mercy of family members who may or may not feel inclined to care for or feed two more people. Her husband has kicked her out into the streets for good.
Brad and Diane, Hal and Kay, Kris and Adrian, this is very likely how your own beautiful children got their own starts in life. I hope enough time hasn't gone by that you don't kiss and hold them at every opportunity. Tell them that you love them every time you speak their names. For every child you rescued, there are thousands of children who have entered life with no safety net of any kind. India has the highest infant mortality rate in the world. India is a country with no soul.
Every day, we see such sadness, it overwhelms us. We are living out of the safety of an organized 'tour' group or service organization. We see things tourists are protected from seeing.
Our own beautiful Vennila's two beautiful boys each weighed less than five pounds at birth. She was fifteen when Stephen was born and seventeen when Michael came along. Her sons were born in a maternity ward like the one I just tried to describe. Her 'husband' did not come to see her.
This is so long. It is so sad. When I'm not poking fun of India and Indians, I'm crying. Mike has cried. We have been humbled every day. There is PLENTY of situations that have been hilarious. I would have rather told you about those. Somehow, it just didn't seem appropriate until I described how so many of God's precious children begin their lives. May God bless the children of India forever. Give them the souls that their government lacks.
The internet will be gone a few minutes. I did not and could not give this experience the respect and anguish that I felt. I'm so sorry. When Vennila and I left our friend, she was sobbing uncontrollably. All that I could do was tell her that with her baby boy, she had a reason to live, a soul to love, a future to work toward, and a son who would grow up one day to love her. Was I wrong to say so? Please, God. Don't let it be so.
Bye for now.
Monday, June 25, 2012
A Word About Servants, etc.
Well, after a few interesting unintended highlights, we finally arrived in India. Again. We did a nice little detour through Frankfurt, Germany and got to spend the night for FREE with all kinds of FREE food vouchers, thanks to United Airlines. (More on that later) In less than 24 hours we managed to eat everything in sight. Why didn't I think to stuff my pockets with food? I knew we were going to be in India for three weeks. I knew there's nothing worth eating in India. I just wasn't thinking. Or more to the point, Mike's along for the ride with me this time. I can't steal stuff when he's around.
So here we are in India. Again. The first time a person visits India, it's an "Innocents Abroad" kind of deal. If a person goes to India a second time, it's sheer stupidity. Mike fits the first description. Sort of. It's not that I didn't warn him. I most definitely fit the second definition. I'm a crazy, whacked-out, stupid person. I freely admit it.
I've been stifling impulses to laugh since the moment we walked out of the Chennai Airport and into the chaos of India. Watching Mike's face and his reaction to what he's seeing is priceless. And sweet. I want to help. I really do. But I wind up laughing.
Here's where the servant deal comes in. India's poor are housemaids, drivers, cooks, gardeners, and who knows what else, but there's LOTS of them. No matter where you stay, you're going to turn around in a very small space and there will be about five sweet faces watching your every move. You can't pick up an errant potato chip from off of the floor yourself. I haven't decided if the Indian people have figured out that we white people are helpless, infantile, paralyzed, morons, or if they really like being helpful. But let me tell you a little secret. You will never do anything private or personal again without minute examination and endless chatter and giggling.
Mike has been startled out of his wits at least a half a dozen times today. It's like watching a really scary stalker movie except this one is really happening.
Nobody can say nothing quite as long as I can. Right? For anyone who wants to know what's ACTUALLY going on, we're doing just fine. With the help of a menagerie of drivers, cooks, housecleaners, smilers, wavers, and gigglers. And we're not exactly staying at the Ritz Carlton. We are truly living with the Indians this time around. Mike is even wearing a Lungi - not exactly a diaper, but only because he refuses to take off his shorts. Wow. I never knew I had such an entertaining husband.
Well, love and kisses to all of you civilized people drinking potable water, eating edible food, and enjoying the cool weather - the weather is cooler everywhere than here in India. Enjoy your pleasant trips to the Grocery Store and the absence of witnessing public personal hygiene.
The servants are all smiling, waving, and giggling at you. Okay, everybody. All together now. SMILE!
So here we are in India. Again. The first time a person visits India, it's an "Innocents Abroad" kind of deal. If a person goes to India a second time, it's sheer stupidity. Mike fits the first description. Sort of. It's not that I didn't warn him. I most definitely fit the second definition. I'm a crazy, whacked-out, stupid person. I freely admit it.
I've been stifling impulses to laugh since the moment we walked out of the Chennai Airport and into the chaos of India. Watching Mike's face and his reaction to what he's seeing is priceless. And sweet. I want to help. I really do. But I wind up laughing.
Here's where the servant deal comes in. India's poor are housemaids, drivers, cooks, gardeners, and who knows what else, but there's LOTS of them. No matter where you stay, you're going to turn around in a very small space and there will be about five sweet faces watching your every move. You can't pick up an errant potato chip from off of the floor yourself. I haven't decided if the Indian people have figured out that we white people are helpless, infantile, paralyzed, morons, or if they really like being helpful. But let me tell you a little secret. You will never do anything private or personal again without minute examination and endless chatter and giggling.
Mike has been startled out of his wits at least a half a dozen times today. It's like watching a really scary stalker movie except this one is really happening.
Nobody can say nothing quite as long as I can. Right? For anyone who wants to know what's ACTUALLY going on, we're doing just fine. With the help of a menagerie of drivers, cooks, housecleaners, smilers, wavers, and gigglers. And we're not exactly staying at the Ritz Carlton. We are truly living with the Indians this time around. Mike is even wearing a Lungi - not exactly a diaper, but only because he refuses to take off his shorts. Wow. I never knew I had such an entertaining husband.
Well, love and kisses to all of you civilized people drinking potable water, eating edible food, and enjoying the cool weather - the weather is cooler everywhere than here in India. Enjoy your pleasant trips to the Grocery Store and the absence of witnessing public personal hygiene.
The servants are all smiling, waving, and giggling at you. Okay, everybody. All together now. SMILE!
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Dear Vennila
Dear Vennila,
Tomorrow, we leave Portland to fly halfway around the world to India. Again. This time, I'm bringing Mike. We're coming just for YOU.
Remember when I left India last March? I told you I would be back for you.
A promise is a promise.
Our daughter, Sally, has asked me to convey a message to you when we get there and here it is:
Dear Vennila, Steven, and Michael,
Welcome to our family. We love you already even though we haven't met you yet. Be well. We are hoping for all good things to come your way.
Love,
Sally
Vennila, I know you can't read this message yet, but someday you will. You WILL. You CAN.
We will see you soon! Remember: God has your name engraved on the palms of his hands.
With love,
Mike and Betty
Tomorrow, we leave Portland to fly halfway around the world to India. Again. This time, I'm bringing Mike. We're coming just for YOU.
Remember when I left India last March? I told you I would be back for you.
A promise is a promise.
Our daughter, Sally, has asked me to convey a message to you when we get there and here it is:
Dear Vennila, Steven, and Michael,
Welcome to our family. We love you already even though we haven't met you yet. Be well. We are hoping for all good things to come your way.
Love,
Sally
Vennila, I know you can't read this message yet, but someday you will. You WILL. You CAN.
We will see you soon! Remember: God has your name engraved on the palms of his hands.
With love,
Mike and Betty
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Missing these two already, SO MUCH.
Dr. Sam Ward, my erstwhile deranged snake hunting companion.
And Vennila.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Let's Call It A Day
I'll be leaving for HOME in less than 24 hours. My Mother needs me worse than India and I need to go.
It's been a wild ride. I thank every one of you who have supported me with kind words and warm wishes. Thank you to everyone who kept up with my rantings. Thank you to those of you who loyally posted and voiced your love and support for me. I could not have done India without you.
I will miss this people. I will miss them so much.
Vennila, I'll be back for you. A promise is a promise.
Deepenraj
Joseph
Tammilakya
Pryanka
Theresa
Papitha
'Special' Sangeetha
Pasitha
Ambiga
Mahalakshmi
Shankar
Sujatha
Beulah
Gracie
Soniya
Krishmamorthy
Manadoya
Karpagavalli
Devi
Prithika
Keerthika
Nagalaksmi
Usha
Gracie (again)
Mani
Sumithra
Devi Prya
Sarenraj
Ashok
Rameesh
Vignesh
Divya
Buji
Shalini
Monisha
Monika
Vonodhini
Ashwin
Gopi
Pryanka (again)
Angelique
Vadavu
Kala
Nathan
Sankar
Rajah Kumari
Vinodhini (again)
Megala
Logashwari
Karchik
Sathya
My. Heart. Is. Breaking. Because of you, I will always be a part of India. Thank you for the hugs, the kisses, the spontaneous love, the smiles, . . . . . and for not giving me head lice.
I love you all, forever. May God be with you. May the wind be forever at your backs. May you bless your country with your skills and abilities. "Be the change in the world that you wish it to become." -
Mahatma Gandhi.
With so much love,
Mr. Johnson
It's been a wild ride. I thank every one of you who have supported me with kind words and warm wishes. Thank you to everyone who kept up with my rantings. Thank you to those of you who loyally posted and voiced your love and support for me. I could not have done India without you.
I will miss this people. I will miss them so much.
Vennila, I'll be back for you. A promise is a promise.
Deepenraj
Joseph
Tammilakya
Pryanka
Theresa
Papitha
'Special' Sangeetha
Pasitha
Ambiga
Mahalakshmi
Shankar
Sujatha
Beulah
Gracie
Soniya
Krishmamorthy
Manadoya
Karpagavalli
Devi
Prithika
Keerthika
Nagalaksmi
Usha
Gracie (again)
Mani
Sumithra
Devi Prya
Sarenraj
Ashok
Rameesh
Vignesh
Divya
Buji
Shalini
Monisha
Monika
Vonodhini
Ashwin
Gopi
Pryanka (again)
Angelique
Vadavu
Kala
Nathan
Sankar
Rajah Kumari
Vinodhini (again)
Megala
Logashwari
Karchik
Sathya
My. Heart. Is. Breaking. Because of you, I will always be a part of India. Thank you for the hugs, the kisses, the spontaneous love, the smiles, . . . . . and for not giving me head lice.
I love you all, forever. May God be with you. May the wind be forever at your backs. May you bless your country with your skills and abilities. "Be the change in the world that you wish it to become." -
Mahatma Gandhi.
With so much love,
Mr. Johnson
Thursday, March 22, 2012
The Lonely Planet's Travel Guide to India
Forget the Taj Mahal. Forget bathing three times in the Ganges River. You aren't going there. Your travel in India will be confined to the little villages and dirt roads of rural India.
1. Please stop by your local bookstore and pick up the 1,500 page illustrated book entitled "Dangerous Snakes of India". Memorize this book. After your lengthy stay in India has completely emptied your brain of logic and good sense, you will be out in the dead of night with one other equally deranged person. You will be looking in the bushes with a tiny flashlight for snakes. You're going to want to know what it is that just slithered over your foot. There are lots of possibilities. If you're packing the actual book, it may come in handy as a weapon. Drop it. Run for your life for about a mile. Stop. Laugh. Go back for the book. And whatever is under it that you just killed.
2. You are going to get deathly ill in India. Count on it. You only think you're invincible. You're not. You WILL end up in a ball on a bathroom floor. At this point, whatever swear words you may be thinking, are perfectly acceptable. Just try not to say "Holy Cow, I'm sick." H-I-N-D-U-S. Sh-h-h-h.
3. As a corollary to #2, you will feel an increased desire to repent of all your past deeds including swearing. You will want to repent for any future mis-deeds you even thought of committing in an effort to strike a bargain with God which goes something like this: "I, (your full name here), swear upon my 1,500 page "Dangerous Snakes of India", that if I miraculously survive (insert hourly death defying experience here), that I will never (insert latest sin and weakness here). Think stuff up if your bad habits aren't bad enough. You've got to get God's attention.
4. Men are going to stare. Stare back. Walk into ditches, doorposts, vehicles, and off of steep cliffs and stairs. Hold that stare. This will require practice. So many men are staring, you will have to be selective. Choose the one without a mustache. Refine your staring technique. Learn to gracefully exit that sewage drainage ditch you just fell into while holding the stare. Work it. Looking isn't free.
5. Never try to 'guess' what it is that you may be eating. It's red rice. Pretending that you don't know it's red rice will only lead you down the path of delusion, illusion, and delirium. Guessing is the first step. You KNOW it's red 'gravel' rice. What's that you said? "Where's the Indian cuisine?" You, my friend, have taken the first step into delusion. Bon Apetite.
6. You will wear 'modest' clothes that make Charlie Chaplin look like a fashion statement. Your pants look like two flour sacks with a waist. Your top will not even be in the same orbit as your pants. India is in love with color. Any color, in any combination, in any style. You're not seeing things. You really are wearing a red and purple striped top with orange pants. Super! Super!
7. Never ask anyone for directions to anywhere. There is a fine possibility that you could find yourself in the middle of an Indian 'cemetery'. If bad directions lead you to a dirt road careening off into nowhere, suppress your natural tendencies to explore. If there are flowers strewn along the road, GO BACK. You are entering a burn area. And I don't mean wood.
8. Never get a ride one-way into 'town'. You're going to be hiking five miles back home. There will be buses full of men. Rickshaws full of men. Bicycles with men pedaling. Motorcycles with men. NONE of these drivers are interested in the safety of pedestrians. Please see step #4.
From your Lonely Planet travel guide, this is a work in progress. Stay tuned.
1. Please stop by your local bookstore and pick up the 1,500 page illustrated book entitled "Dangerous Snakes of India". Memorize this book. After your lengthy stay in India has completely emptied your brain of logic and good sense, you will be out in the dead of night with one other equally deranged person. You will be looking in the bushes with a tiny flashlight for snakes. You're going to want to know what it is that just slithered over your foot. There are lots of possibilities. If you're packing the actual book, it may come in handy as a weapon. Drop it. Run for your life for about a mile. Stop. Laugh. Go back for the book. And whatever is under it that you just killed.
2. You are going to get deathly ill in India. Count on it. You only think you're invincible. You're not. You WILL end up in a ball on a bathroom floor. At this point, whatever swear words you may be thinking, are perfectly acceptable. Just try not to say "Holy Cow, I'm sick." H-I-N-D-U-S. Sh-h-h-h.
3. As a corollary to #2, you will feel an increased desire to repent of all your past deeds including swearing. You will want to repent for any future mis-deeds you even thought of committing in an effort to strike a bargain with God which goes something like this: "I, (your full name here), swear upon my 1,500 page "Dangerous Snakes of India", that if I miraculously survive (insert hourly death defying experience here), that I will never (insert latest sin and weakness here). Think stuff up if your bad habits aren't bad enough. You've got to get God's attention.
4. Men are going to stare. Stare back. Walk into ditches, doorposts, vehicles, and off of steep cliffs and stairs. Hold that stare. This will require practice. So many men are staring, you will have to be selective. Choose the one without a mustache. Refine your staring technique. Learn to gracefully exit that sewage drainage ditch you just fell into while holding the stare. Work it. Looking isn't free.
5. Never try to 'guess' what it is that you may be eating. It's red rice. Pretending that you don't know it's red rice will only lead you down the path of delusion, illusion, and delirium. Guessing is the first step. You KNOW it's red 'gravel' rice. What's that you said? "Where's the Indian cuisine?" You, my friend, have taken the first step into delusion. Bon Apetite.
6. You will wear 'modest' clothes that make Charlie Chaplin look like a fashion statement. Your pants look like two flour sacks with a waist. Your top will not even be in the same orbit as your pants. India is in love with color. Any color, in any combination, in any style. You're not seeing things. You really are wearing a red and purple striped top with orange pants. Super! Super!
7. Never ask anyone for directions to anywhere. There is a fine possibility that you could find yourself in the middle of an Indian 'cemetery'. If bad directions lead you to a dirt road careening off into nowhere, suppress your natural tendencies to explore. If there are flowers strewn along the road, GO BACK. You are entering a burn area. And I don't mean wood.
8. Never get a ride one-way into 'town'. You're going to be hiking five miles back home. There will be buses full of men. Rickshaws full of men. Bicycles with men pedaling. Motorcycles with men. NONE of these drivers are interested in the safety of pedestrians. Please see step #4.
From your Lonely Planet travel guide, this is a work in progress. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
HO HUM
On the bright side . . . . . . . . . . the concept of "Mr." and "Mrs." has been nearly impossible to make students understand. I try on a near daily basis. I surrender. So -o-o-o-o-o. I have been Mr. Johnson for three months now. Mrs. Johnson, how is Tax Season going for you?
Saturday, March 17, 2012
God and My New Ecco Sandals
It is a two-hour drive one way to Church through the most incredible traffic imaginable. Motorcycles, Rickshaws, buses, cement trucks, bicycles, and every driver with a strong death wish. I begin my Sundays with a prayer for safety and end them with a prayer of thanks.
Today, I have a little something more for which I must express my thanks and I want to thank Him publicly.
I was told before I came to India that I should wear only closed-toe shoes. When I got here, I realized that advice was not going to work out very well. Everyone wears sandals. It's too hot to do anything else. Thankfully, I had brought a pair of rubber flip flops for the shower. I have been walking around for over two months in rubber flip flops and frankly, the tread was wearing a little thin. The situation was exacerbating some foot problems I already had and I felt desperate for some kind of solution. I couldn't exactly run out on a shopping spree and buy me a pair of good sandals.
So God went shopping for me.
There is a closet here full of the cast-offs of my predecessors. Every time I look in there, I'm reminded of the personal belongings of pioneers strewn along the Oregon Trail as they 'lightened' their loads. I had been through those cast-offs a number of times looking for some kind of shoe that might replace my shower flip flops. I never found anything.
Last week, in a desperate move, though I had already searched the shoe selection quite thoroughly, I decided to look one more time. There, in plain view, rested a beautiful pair of Ecco sandals, just my size. I hesitate to admit this, but I stood and cried. Those shoes hadn't been there a week ago. We hadn't had a volunteer group come through since the last time I looked, so the sandals hadn't been left recently. Apparently, I had just missed seeing them all this time . . . . . . . . . . . .Or not.
I dusted them off, cleaned them with a damp cloth, and put those babies on. I have died and gone to heaven. Wait. Maybe. Heaven couldn't possibly be this hot. Uh-oh.
God has good taste. My sandals cost over $100 on Amazon.
Today is Sunday. The Sabbath.
Thank you, God. Thank you. I love you. Credit given where credit is due. Even though I'm in India, you still know where I am, you are still aware of my needs, and you love me back.
Amen.
Friday, March 16, 2012
The Beauty of an Indian Sunrise
The early mornings are my favorite time of day here. It's eerily quiet. I suddenly realize why. There is absolutely no noise pollution. None. Zero. Zip. Nada. Zilch. I have not seen a single-engine airplane since I left Portland. I haven't seen any type of aircraft, large or small, flying around since the Indian Air Force buzzed the school building about eight weeks ago. That was my exciting, eventful aviation experience in India. Someone wanted to know what country could possibly be flying fighter jets so low in India. I said, "W-e-l-l, this IS India. Let's think about that." Then I uttered a silent, fervent prayer that those fighters weren't Pakistani.
There are early morning bird calls and lots of raucous arguing in the trees, but even the birds take cover with the arrival of the heat and humidity. There is very little traffic on the dirt farm road outside the gate. Occasionally, there is a motorcycle or a farm cart pulled by cows. Once in a great while, a little truck of sorts goes putt-putting by. With those few exceptions, it's utter silence. I never knew how nostalgic I would get for the hustle and bustle of the Sunset Highway.
Sudden, awkward change of subject . . . . . . .
The school is not air-conditioned. The kiddies would freeze in air conditioning. There are fans in the classrooms, but they're pretty useless. When they are turned on, they have one speed: Hurricane Katrina in a bad mood. There are four of these bad boys in every classroom. I wait to comb my hair until I get to school. The fans do it for me with half the trouble. Oh, and did I mention that when the fans are on, there is PLENTY of noise pollution? As in we use sign language so we can communicate? It's such a perfect environment for Second Language Learners. I can't hear them. They can't hear me. Klassroom Karma Dharma. There is one word that I'm pretty certain my students know very well: WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? Repeated, oh, about a thousand times a day.
Oh, and here's just one fine example among many of my well-honed teaching abilities. Yesterday, I gave a 7th Standard kid a wedgie. He was long overdue. Today, he informed me that I had permanently damaged his 'man parts'. I used that precious teaching moment as an opportunity to introduce and illustrate the amazing science of a sports cup. His eyes were as big as saucers.
If only they would stop asking me when I am going to leave. I could bear this much better. I'm deaf, hippie-looking, sunbleached, and drinking more water than your average fish. That's why there are so many hippies in India. Underneath that unwashed, unkempt, bleary eyed exterior, is a buttoned down, tailored, widdo pweppie heart.
But that sunrise. . . . . . . . in the quiet, beautiful, stillness of another Indian morning, I am. Still. Here. Thank you, God.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
"This Swamp's Gotta Be Drained" HOOYAH
That's a direct quote from the new Program Director of this school! Well, partly. The HOOYAH is my own addition. It represents my relief and joy that major changes are afoot - changes that will improve tremendously the education offered to these kids. It had to happen.
I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be asked to the Prom this month. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, that's true. The addendum to that sage advice is that the squeaky wheel is annoying, loud, unpopular, and demanding. I'm fine with that. I will leave here having made a difference. Speaking of Prom, what I wouldn't give for a big piece of Costco carrot cake right now. It's amazing the things a person begins to dream about. I wouldn't touch Costco carrot cake at home. Now, I could eat the whole cake right down to its cardboard box.
Yesterday, I reached into a small bag and pulled out my cellphone. "What is THAT?"
I temporarily forgot, that yes, I do have access to another world. I have a whole bank of phone numbers for people I used to call. That funny little keyboard is what I used to text people on. Weird. That life of ease and access is so foreign to me now. Who ARE those people in my cellphone address book? Did I used to know them?
I think my contact with the outside world is about to get much worse. The power cord to my computer is gradually cooking itself to death before my very eyes. Not even a step down transformer is going to save it. I'm trying to coax another 23 days out of it, but I'll be lucky, very lucky if we make it. I'm going to be so heartbroken. Don't be surprised if I hold a funeral service for my power cord and a graveside dedication. No, I won't be able to replace it until I get home. Yes, that leaves me out of touch, out of luck, and out to lunch for another three weeks. Alas and Alack. T.I. I. - This Is India.
I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be asked to the Prom this month. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, that's true. The addendum to that sage advice is that the squeaky wheel is annoying, loud, unpopular, and demanding. I'm fine with that. I will leave here having made a difference. Speaking of Prom, what I wouldn't give for a big piece of Costco carrot cake right now. It's amazing the things a person begins to dream about. I wouldn't touch Costco carrot cake at home. Now, I could eat the whole cake right down to its cardboard box.
Yesterday, I reached into a small bag and pulled out my cellphone. "What is THAT?"
I temporarily forgot, that yes, I do have access to another world. I have a whole bank of phone numbers for people I used to call. That funny little keyboard is what I used to text people on. Weird. That life of ease and access is so foreign to me now. Who ARE those people in my cellphone address book? Did I used to know them?
I think my contact with the outside world is about to get much worse. The power cord to my computer is gradually cooking itself to death before my very eyes. Not even a step down transformer is going to save it. I'm trying to coax another 23 days out of it, but I'll be lucky, very lucky if we make it. I'm going to be so heartbroken. Don't be surprised if I hold a funeral service for my power cord and a graveside dedication. No, I won't be able to replace it until I get home. Yes, that leaves me out of touch, out of luck, and out to lunch for another three weeks. Alas and Alack. T.I. I. - This Is India.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Civilization leaves me bit by bit and I begin to think simply . . . . . .
. . . . . . .I function more freely. - Paul Gauguin.
When I arrived in India on December 31st, I had three suitcases, a carry-on and a large bag. When I return home, I'll have less than half of one suitcase, a carry-on, and a bag. I should probably give some more of it away and come home with just a carry-on.
I have learned to live more simply. I know that I can do without. I have learned how unimportant most things are. I should list all of the things that I brought that I thought were necessities. I came to India as a spoiled, naive American. I will leave India much less concerned with what I own than with who I am. I am indebted to the Indian people for lessons in resourcefulness, selflessness, patience, friendship, and creativity. They are amazing. I am ever so humble and humbled to be in their presence.
Yesterday was a special day. I couldn't do much because of a nasty critter bite on my foot, so I hid out with the maids, my favorite thing to do. Together, we tried to catch up on a mountain of laundry from the other 'guests'. We washed, hung out, and folded all day until the little tiny washing machine broke down. I'm not sure why it is so much fun because we probably understand about ten percent of what the other person is saying. I'm discovering that the important communications need no translation. Doing laundry is a universal task. Hanging out the clothes is a peaceful, fun activity to do with friends. Folding clothes with two Indian maids is hilarious. I found out that EVERYONE has a special way to fold sheets and NOBODY is backing down.
Here is a photo of four of my Indian friends. They are all dressed up for a festive occasion. Indians love festive occasions. They cook up any excuse to have one. This grand fete was nothing more than a school science fair, complete with visiting dignitaries and the sprinkling of rose water everywhere. Don't you love how they wore complementary saris! To get the full effect of a sari, it's necessary to watch how Indian women walk when they are wearing one. Their gracefulness is amazing. Michael Jackson stole his 'moon walk' from an Indian woman wearing a sari.
When I arrived in India on December 31st, I had three suitcases, a carry-on and a large bag. When I return home, I'll have less than half of one suitcase, a carry-on, and a bag. I should probably give some more of it away and come home with just a carry-on.
I have learned to live more simply. I know that I can do without. I have learned how unimportant most things are. I should list all of the things that I brought that I thought were necessities. I came to India as a spoiled, naive American. I will leave India much less concerned with what I own than with who I am. I am indebted to the Indian people for lessons in resourcefulness, selflessness, patience, friendship, and creativity. They are amazing. I am ever so humble and humbled to be in their presence.
Yesterday was a special day. I couldn't do much because of a nasty critter bite on my foot, so I hid out with the maids, my favorite thing to do. Together, we tried to catch up on a mountain of laundry from the other 'guests'. We washed, hung out, and folded all day until the little tiny washing machine broke down. I'm not sure why it is so much fun because we probably understand about ten percent of what the other person is saying. I'm discovering that the important communications need no translation. Doing laundry is a universal task. Hanging out the clothes is a peaceful, fun activity to do with friends. Folding clothes with two Indian maids is hilarious. I found out that EVERYONE has a special way to fold sheets and NOBODY is backing down.
Here is a photo of four of my Indian friends. They are all dressed up for a festive occasion. Indians love festive occasions. They cook up any excuse to have one. This grand fete was nothing more than a school science fair, complete with visiting dignitaries and the sprinkling of rose water everywhere. Don't you love how they wore complementary saris! To get the full effect of a sari, it's necessary to watch how Indian women walk when they are wearing one. Their gracefulness is amazing. Michael Jackson stole his 'moon walk' from an Indian woman wearing a sari.
Friday, March 9, 2012
The survival clock is ticking down.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
I fought a good fight . . . . . . . BRAVEHEART, Indian Style
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
What!???
Quite frequently, parents bring their little ones to the school for registration, hoping the child will be accepted. The public schools in India, particularly in the rural areas, are a joke. It's not unusual to see an entire school of several hundred students and nary a teacher in sight. They have all gone fishing or whatever it is they do here when they call in 'sick'. So parents try anything to find a better education option for their children. Because this school is a private school run by Americans, poor, desperate Indians assume their children will get a better education here.
I have noticed parents and their children coming in the morning around 8AM and they are still waiting as late as 12:30 PM. Sometimes their children are as young as five years old. This morning, I noticed a worried looking father with his beautiful little 5-year old boy waiting. It was 9AM. The following conversation with our erstwhile principal then occurred:
Me: "Celina, did you notice the father with his little boy waiting to register?"
Celina: "Yes. I make new registrants wait for a long time on purpose."
Me: "Celina, that's cruel. That's really cruel. Why would you do that?"
Celina: "Okay, okay. I'll take care of them after the bell."
I have never met anyone so cynical and cruel. We are also ankle deep in raw sewage because the same person insists on throwing toilet paper down the toilet, something the Indian septic system was not designed to accommodate. Remember? Indians do not use toilet paper. Just when I think it can't get worse - it does.
On the bright side! I feel giddy. I feel giddy. I feel giddy and witty and gay! It's the lyrics to an old show tune just in case you're wondering. I got bettah!
I have noticed parents and their children coming in the morning around 8AM and they are still waiting as late as 12:30 PM. Sometimes their children are as young as five years old. This morning, I noticed a worried looking father with his beautiful little 5-year old boy waiting. It was 9AM. The following conversation with our erstwhile principal then occurred:
Me: "Celina, did you notice the father with his little boy waiting to register?"
Celina: "Yes. I make new registrants wait for a long time on purpose."
Me: "Celina, that's cruel. That's really cruel. Why would you do that?"
Celina: "Okay, okay. I'll take care of them after the bell."
I have never met anyone so cynical and cruel. We are also ankle deep in raw sewage because the same person insists on throwing toilet paper down the toilet, something the Indian septic system was not designed to accommodate. Remember? Indians do not use toilet paper. Just when I think it can't get worse - it does.
On the bright side! I feel giddy. I feel giddy. I feel giddy and witty and gay! It's the lyrics to an old show tune just in case you're wondering. I got bettah!
Monday, March 5, 2012
I was wrong about Sally
Dear Sally, (my daughter), the record still stands. I have never met a Sally I didn't like.
This Sally that I know here in India was a little harder to get to know because I felt that we were at opposite ends of a philosophical belief system. I saw things in a much different way than Sally did. Or so I thought. I was wrong. I know when I should admit it.
Sally has a big job on her hands. She will be trying to manage a school for 200 children, most of whom are from the Leprosy Colonies of India. She has listened, even when the news was hard for her to hear, personally. She has read everything I have written. She is going to get some things done. She will be a hands-on manager of this school. She is exactly the change that the school has been needing.
So . . . . . . . Sally, my own daughter, Sally. We love you so much. The record stands. I have never met a Sally I didn't like. Even though the other Sally will never read this blog, my heartfelt prayers go with her as she undertakes such an important task - providing the best education she can possibly give to these children. I love them. They have become a part of who I am. I will always think of them and be pulling for their every success. I feel confident that 'Sally' feels the same way. I can go home in peace.
The children are already asking when I will be going home and wanting me to write to them. I'm headed for heartbreak hotel. I care very little about what most people think of me, but I DO care very much about what the Indian people think of me. They matter to me and I want to always treat them with the respect and admiration they deserve.
I'm so glad that I stepped forward. I'm so glad that someone listened. I'm so glad that I have made so many wonderful Indian friends.
This Sally that I know here in India was a little harder to get to know because I felt that we were at opposite ends of a philosophical belief system. I saw things in a much different way than Sally did. Or so I thought. I was wrong. I know when I should admit it.
Sally has a big job on her hands. She will be trying to manage a school for 200 children, most of whom are from the Leprosy Colonies of India. She has listened, even when the news was hard for her to hear, personally. She has read everything I have written. She is going to get some things done. She will be a hands-on manager of this school. She is exactly the change that the school has been needing.
So . . . . . . . Sally, my own daughter, Sally. We love you so much. The record stands. I have never met a Sally I didn't like. Even though the other Sally will never read this blog, my heartfelt prayers go with her as she undertakes such an important task - providing the best education she can possibly give to these children. I love them. They have become a part of who I am. I will always think of them and be pulling for their every success. I feel confident that 'Sally' feels the same way. I can go home in peace.
The children are already asking when I will be going home and wanting me to write to them. I'm headed for heartbreak hotel. I care very little about what most people think of me, but I DO care very much about what the Indian people think of me. They matter to me and I want to always treat them with the respect and admiration they deserve.
I'm so glad that I stepped forward. I'm so glad that someone listened. I'm so glad that I have made so many wonderful Indian friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)