A Feast

Dear Marc,


I am not sure if you will change the world…but for tonight, a community of people will go to bed with full stomachs, happy hearts, and giving thanks to God for the kindness of a seven year old.

Whenever I visited the ------- it seemed poverty was everywhere.  Families lived inside the broken remains of large pipes.  They made them into a dwelling by adding an additional cement slab brick room and maybe a little “patio” out front.  The living was simple and had been that way for years.  But this year, when I came back, all of the pipes had been destroyed.  Most of the families left but....for the few who remained, the conditions were much worse.  Now, they are living in homes made from cement and scrap metal.  There is no electricity and thus, there is no fan to move the air. The temperature in the rooms soar and it feels like an oven inside. Also, there is no water supply. The pipe company has closed but continues to promise future employment when they re-open.  Unfortunately, days have dragged to months, and those still waiting have no income.

Food, when they have it consists of rice and dahl.  They are hungry. So Marc, I know that you had hungry kids on your heart but I didn’t think you would mind if I made a slight change and included the adults. Tonight, they will have a feast.  Each family got 3kgs of rice, .5 kgs of chicken, and a small bag of vegetables thanks to you.  Additonally, they got a packet of milk, a few eggs, and some bananas.   I wish you could have seen their faces.  We told them all about you, your heart, your sprit, and your family.  They wanted to see your picture. I handed the oldest lady my camera and she kissed the image of you that she saw.  You may never meet them, but I know, that you and your family have a new prayer team that lives in a small village in a very poor section of India. We know that God hears the cries and prayers of the poor.  Marc, you have made a difference. 

Country Life

I have written about the clamor of city life but country life has a different clamor.  Days start early.  Hot water for a bath is heated over an outside fire (mine was graciously delivered in a steaming pot that was carried atop my neighbor's head each morning and right to my door).

While I was shocked the first day it happened....it was not uncommon for a herd of oxen to parade by on their way to the open grazing field, as I stood outside each day brushing my teeth (only feet from my bathroom, which was located outside the main part of the house and did not contain a sink).

By 8:00 am. I would walk a short distance to a teacher's house for breakfast.  The walk was short but as I took each step I carefully checked for snakes and made sure to step around mud puddles and oxen droppings. No matter how many successful walks I made I was always feeling nervous that a snake might be lurking somewhere (the number of snake killing stories did not help ease my fears).  Breakfast, lunch, and dinner was  served and prepared each day by the teacher's sister.  She was an excellent cook.  No meal was served twice.  Options were vada with corn....cilantro with coconut, and  tomato chutney for breakfast.  There was a delicious spiced carrot raisin dessert (I had no idea that shredded carrots could taste that good) and always a new curry to try for dinner.  Their  humble, straw roofed house was wonderful: two rooms in the main house and a washroom and kitchen out back.  The main room opened to a perfectly kept backyard which was a great spot for my morning tea. The walk to school was beautiful.  The sky always seemed to threaten rain; the clouds dark and heavy gave the sky a brilliant blue tint - providing a beautiful backdrop for the mounds of hay that towered above the houses' thatched roof tops.  Cattle grazed in people’s front yards and children in neatly laundered blue dresses waited to greet us. 

It was so much fun to spend a week living in the same village as the students.  It was great to meet their families and learn about their lives. I am so thankful for all the effort everyone put into accommodating me this week.  The teaching and time at the school could not have gone better.

I Like to "Move It - Move It"

I have visited new villages several times on this trip.  At one village, some college girls came along and taught the women and children a song.  It was a hit.  During my last visit, I went but without the “entertainers.” The ladies begged me to dance.  “Dance teacher, dance.”  After numerous attempts to explain my poor dancing abilities I relented and taught the Hokey Pokey. The women were not satisfied. “No teacher. Dance teacher.”  I thought, O.K....maybe..."The Chicken." 

I got the same response.  My dancing clearly was not what they had hoped for.  Then, one young lady whispered in my ear, “Like this.....I like to move it, move it...I like to move it....move it.”  J
 I guess some things cross all cultures.  Too bad I didn’t know the dance.

Education

"I don't know," she said in very broken English as I pointed to Telugu letters and asked her to tell me the sounds. I questioned further assuming that Telugu must not be her native language (it is common for people to speak more languages than they can read).. but shaking her head she said.. "No school."  She never got to go. 
Sometimes things like this hit me hard, especially when voiced by someone  I really care about. It reminds me how lucky I am to be able to read, write, and have attended school. How cool that her children are studying in university and she is a soon to be grandma. :)

Hesitant

In city schools(in India) most children have seen a white person, but this week, for some, I was their first.  Fortunately, at this school, none cried at the sight if me (that has happened), but for sure some were hesitant.  For one beautiful little girl, the only pictures I was able to take show her looking at me very skeptically - as if checking to see whether I was real.


Often, if I am sitting on the gound with the smallest ones, they will poke my arm or lightly stroke it as if to discover whether it feels the same. Children aren’t the only ones who are curious. Adults, of course, know my skin feels the same - yet a dance of sorts seemed to play out all week as my new hosts and I tried to figure each other out.  Sometimes, I felt a like a trophy, paraded to different homes just so I could shake hands with the occupants.  Young and old would watch through the gates and ask questions of the teachers or children who were accompanying me. 

The smallest little girl in this school was not sure WHAT to think of me.  Since she was the shortest she was in the front - first kid in the first row.  Her arms were crossed tightly with eyebrows furrowed; she stared at me during the entire morning assembly.  If I stepped too close, she'd back away. She was not sure what to make of me but was determined to figure me out.  Her demeanor contrasted with most of the children who usually clamor all around in order to shake my hand. Some, I know would shake once and immediately stick it back out to be shaken again. At recess, in order to walk across the school grounds, I sometimes had to refuse to shake any hands for when I shook one - all would come running .  After a day or two, the smallest ones followed the lead of the the older students and got over their hesitancy about me but that never happened with this smallest child.  Every morning for the entire week, the stare down continued.  On my last day, she sat in the doorway of her classroom.  No other children were around to notice so I bent to shake her hand....not sure of what to expect.  She looked at my hand....gave it a nice looooong stare....and quickly pulled her own hand out from behind her back and touched mine for one second. One second was all she was willing to risk and then shoved it deep into her lap and stared. I congratulated her for her bravery. I was hopeful that since the initial contact had gone smoothly she might try again with less fear. I stuck my hand out again. With her eyes darting between my hand and my face she shook her head no.  Once was enough.  I am hopeful our brief contact took the edge off her fears and I do give her credit for trying.

Everyday Heroes

If you have not read the book titled, Half the Sky, you should.  It is not an easy read but worth your effort.  It is a book that shook my heart. It speaks of women worldwide, the trials they face and the things they do to overcome them.  They are ordinary people who do extraordinary things in their villages and neighborhoods.  Today I met some “Everyday Heroes”.

The school I have been visiting this week is in the middle of a slum.  Families live in homes made from scrap metal, wood, and tarp.  The roads are winding and muddy.  Dogs, chickens, and pigs (lots of pigs) roam freely. There is no electricity, running water, or bathrooms. The school consists of two buildings – shared by seven grade levels.  The school rooms have only one window and no lights. Children sit on the ground on mats with their backpacks, a notebook, and a slate.  There  are no “luxuries” -  no crayons, no colored charts and only a few students have books.

Yet it is here that I found some “Everyday Heroes”.  All of the teachers specifically requested to be at this school. They could have been at schools with painted walls, multiple stories, and electricity but instead they asked to teach here. 

Hero # 1-  Stays after school every day for two hours of tutoring.  As I sat waiting for my ride I asked her how much students pay for tutoring. I assumed the small fee required would pay her expenses.  “Nothing,” she said.  “Then how do you get paid?” I asked.  “Well, I don’t. You see, the children's parents can’t come for them till late at night and the homes have no electricity so it is too dark to study.  I felt they needed a place to work, so , I stay.”

Hero# 2-  Helped start this school.  Each school day I spend 45 minutes with the teachers,  sharing and discussing teaching strategies.  One day I noticed that this teacher was just leaving the school an hour after the school day finished.  Another teacher commented that she stayed late today in order to make up time with the children that she didn't get to during the day. She knows that education is hope. Today, this same teacher showed up late to my session.  Later, she apologized.  She explained that a particular family had been on her heart all morning. As she prayed and fasted at lunch she felt moved to check on them. She found that the couple was fighting.  She opened her hand to reveal what looked like black rocks.  “Poison,” she said.  “The husband was going to feed them to his wife.  I had to stay until it was settled.”  She knows this community, lifts them up in prayer, and in this case saved a life.

Hero # 3- A nurse, quiet, English speaking but timid when using English.  On her own, she would not have made my hero list because she would never share how hard she works.  Only when the others on the staff spoke of her dedication did I come to know that she stays late - sometimes until 8:00 in the evening. She goes into the village, checking on people and taking them to the hospital if necessary.  She stays long past her time.

Hero # 4- A student in fourth class (around age 9).  She is lovely. Her hair is neatly braided and she has a sweet, shy, smile.  Her teacher say she is very bright but has difficulty focusing on studies. This is understandable since I learned that her father abandoned the family and her mother has seizures.  The young lady leaves her home by five each morning in order to arrange fruit at the market. She and her 11 year old brother are the only money makers in their family.  She returns home in time to make breakfast and feed her mom and brother.  Next she heads to school. When she returns home it is time to cook and clean again. 

Hero # 5- I met her a few years back but didn’t know her very well.  In school the lessons are memorized and understanding is expected.  For those who don’t understand it can be a lonely battle.  There are so many students to reach so giving individual attention is not easy. But this hero is well aware of the strugglers in her class.  I watch as she rests her hand on the back of one student and reassure him that mistakes are alright and she will help.  When asked about how she teaches she says, “I want the children to learn to think - not to just memorize.”

Hero # 6- Cleans at the school. She is tall and lean, her cheeks sunken, and her hands rough.  After school a small two year old becomes her shadow.  This little one's mom and dad are still off at work.  Her cleaning task would go much faster if she shooed this little shadow out the door but she does not. She lets the toddler help by giving her a job and nurturing her pint sized, strong willed spirit.  The small amount this woman earns is just enough to feed her children and herself.  Her husband has left.

As I was leaving today Hero #2 asked what she should be doing differently in her classroom and what she should improve.  My response, “Nothing..... I cannot answer that question,” I said. “You are my hero and I should learn from you.  You reminded me that I should pray for my students and care for my families as you do. In this case, I feel that I should be the learner.”

 Maybe, I was lucky enough to have shared an idea that will assist her in her desire to reach all of her students.  She certainly was receptive but, in this case, in the presence of these ladies I can only stand in awe and be humbled by what I have witnessed.  I am blessed to be here and to meet true “Everyday Heroes”.

Cheap Good

Crossfitters please don’t judge. Today, it is possible, that I ate spoonfuls of sugar straight from the bag.  I was feeling desperate (I should not have felt desperate since I DID also have ice cream today...a rare but wonderful treat). I took just a tiny dab of peanut butter and attempted to satisfy my craving by coating it in sugar.  UGHH!!! Not only should I not have needed the second dessert but I certainly should not have picked sugar straight from the bag.  I could have walked to the store and easily picked up a small chocolate or something but I didn’t.  I ate spoonfuls of mildly satisfying sugar from the bag.  Sounds a bit like life sometimes.  I find that I often settle for things that are kind of good because they are convenient and familiar and easier than walking to the store or making a change. I like comfort (who doesn’t) but I don’t want to settle for something comfortable and familiar if giving up the something comfortable and familiar could lead to something great.  But mostly, unfortunately just like today, I pick to eat bagged sugar on a spoon instead of striving for something more satisfying.  So, I guess my prayer today is that my life choices do not reflect the eating choices of July 19, 2012.