Christmas Abroad

I realize it has been far too long since I last wrote a blog entry and part of the reason is because of the holiday season, which I have found stays busy no matter where you are in the world. The other part of the reason, however, is because I was lacking the inspiration I needed to write, as this period has been somewhat spiritually dry for me. I have been faced with challenges during this stretch of time, some of which I anticipated, others I did not. Of course I am appreciative of the challenges I have been faced with, as I have found in retrospect that the times I struggle the most are the times I grow the most. One of the challenges I’ve been faced with is finding someone in the community to really understand me. There is still a language barrier and many cultural differences so I don’t feel like there is anyone with whom I can really talk to about my inner most thoughts and feelings. Also, I recently have become less patient with the constant staring of passerbyer’s on the street. Even though I know the staring is harmless, mostly out of curiosity, I feel a bit frustrated that I had been in India for over four months and I still feel like somewhat of an outsider, especially when I step out my door into the street.
A big challenge came in December with the oncoming Christmas season which brought with it the gradual awareness that I was far away from home and my friends and family, who were, at that time, all getting together to spend time and love with one another. I was surprised by my sudden sadness as I had, in my opinion, did surprisingly well, up to that point, in a completely new and unfamiliar place. But the more I pondered Christmas the more I yearned for the feeling of home. However this thought lead me to another thought. How many people each year don’t have a place to call home or don’t have family to come home to? This thought just increased my sadness and as it usually happens I was left feeling helpless, as I thought about the situation of the world and how so much inequality still exists today. To make matters worse, my mom had called to tell me her mother, my grandmother, had passed away. She had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s some years back but in the last two years her condition rapidly worsened and we suspected she wouldn’t have much longer to live. I was not surprised by the news of her death, however, I did not feel any better knowing that I was across the world when my mom’s family reunited for the funeral.
Although in the days leading up to Christmas I experienced feelings of missing home, the actual days of Christmas were some of the most meaningful that I have experienced yet. Thomas John had arranged for his family, wife and son, and the six volunteers to spend Christmas at a boy’s orphanage in Andra Pradesh, a state north of Kerela and a twenty-four hour train fide away. His sister Anna John had taken a vow of devotion to God several years ago and now was the mother of all 22 boys who lived in the orphanage at present and many boys who had more or less graduated from the orphanage and now had jobs and life’s of their own. For a mother of so many boys she had one of the most peaceful and serine demeanors of anyone I’ve met, truly a woman full of grace. The days we spend in Andra were hot and dry, around 80 degrees, very unlike Christmas in Kentucky. Christmas eve was spent getting to know the boys and joining in on some amazing music sung in ‘Teligu’, the mother tongue in Andra. The style of music we participated in was typically a combination of voice and percussion. The boys used drums, tambourines, shakers and the like, which gave the music a great rhythm and beat and it felt as though we were getting a real tribal experience of music. Christmas day was celebrated going to different village churches, where the praise and worship far outweighed the building structure. The second church we went to was a small concrete room with only four windows and two doors and a small table alter. However, there was not a place on the floor to sit. Everyone was cramped together and many more people were outside the doors looking in. There is nothing quite like a worship service held in a packed room or people praising and singing to their Lord. The rest of our time in Andra was spent visiting other areas of the Parkel mission, started over a hundred years ago by missionaries. Along with the boys orphanage, there was sister orphanage of girls and more then fifty small churches in surrounding areas. We also took several evening trips to a couple of beautiful lakes and two old temples that were essentially abandoned after the tsunami came and flooded them. One of the temples was built in 1200 made with massive blocks of marble and stone. Statues of cows, elephants, and other Hindu Gods surrounded the temple. It was indeed a meaningful Christmas and by the end of the trip I was feeling a new sense of family with the volunteers and the boys in the orphanage. God’s family was my family this Christmas.
The day we returned from Andra I went to pick up my brother from the airport. It was so good to see him and I could feel myself calming in his presence. Together we attempted to experience Kerela in eleven short days. We went to Mandiram where we were able to spend time with the Amaci’s and Apachin’s (all elderly folk are addresses as grandmothers and grandfathers here). I think Dave got a good sense of community life in India as well as the humility experienced when serving others. Then we went to Kumerakum and explored the backwaters of Kerela, also referred to as “The Venice of India.” The backwaters are bodies of water where salt water from the ocean mix with fresh water and form a maze of small rivers, canals, and waterways that trail through the coastal land. Boating in traditional style or modern style boats through the backwaters is a big tourist attraction. We took a three-hour boat ride through the winding canals and out onto the lake. Coconut trees and other green vegetation stretch over the riverbanks creating a mirror like image in the green water below. It was absolutely beautiful and we were able to observe many kinds of birds and other forms of wildlife. We then spent a couple days at one of the beautiful beaches of Kerela called Varkala. Varkala felt more like a hot European spot than India. Foreigners from all over speaking an impressive array of languages occupied this beautiful beach. There were hardly any Malayali’s, natives of Kerela, even the people running the hotels and restaurants seemed to be mostly from other states of India and the menu’s had a wide range of dishes from all over the world. But as I told Dave, tourism is definitely a growing industry in Kerela. After our more touristy experiences we were ready to be further immerged into cultural India. We made our way down the coast and entered into the next state, Tamil Nadu, which occupies the southern most tip of India. Kanniyakumari, which means, “Virgin Goddess of the Sea” is the sacred meeting point of the Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean, and Arabian Sea at the southern tip of the subcontinent. Many pilgrims come each day from all over India to this holy place where three seas meet. There is a famous temple that can only be entered by Hundu’s and inside the temple is the Kanya Devi, the virgin goddess. Adjacent to the temple are two rock islands side by side about 500 meters from the shore where supposedly you can see the footprints of the virgin goddess (we were not able to go because the boats were closed due to rough water). Also on the island is a temple and statue of the ancient Tamil saint Thiruvalluva that stands 40 meters high. We were told that during the Tsunami in 2005, the statues head was covered by the waves, however the waves broke away from the statue so it survived the storm. We also went to Gandhi’s memorial, designed so that the sun strikes the very spot where Mahatma Gandhi’s ashes were laid, prior to their immersion in the sea, at noon the day of his birthday, October 2nd. The crowd of people coming to watch the sunset was overwhelming and the poverty was quite pronounced, evidence of the tsunami which brought great destruction to that area and took with it many lives. The amount of street children that keep tugging on our clothes asking for money was heartbreaking. We of course couldn’t give to all of them and wondered if by giving money we were just feeding the problem, making them more dependent on others. After that experience, we were ready to make our way home to Mavelikara. We stopped along the way in Haripad where one of my friends Malini lived. We visited her temple, which was actually closed, and ate a traditional Kerela meal served on a banana leaf. We then ventured over to Malini’s best friend Gopika’s house. We were able to see an old traditional palace, over 200 years old, where Gopika’s family, descendents from a line of Brahmin Kings, used to live. The now used the palace as a place for family gatherings and to welcome guests. The palace had huge wooden doors and a traditional Asian style roof, the corners raising upward to the sky. Inside there was one big room and in the center of the room there was no roof, only two trees that stood in the ground, basking in the natural sunlight. The plot of land around the palace once operated as a joint family unit in which all family members lived together and shared all the child rearing and household responsibilities. Also, on the property, was a family temple, a family pond, to wash and bath, and more houses occupied by other family members. It was amazing! We then reached Mavelikara where Dave got to briefly experience, more or less, my day to day life in India. We went to Bishop Moore College and the Lower Primary school where I teach and interacted with the students who adored him. We also visited some people in their homes and spent time at the hostel with the girls who were enthralled with David. We then went with a good friend to a natural reserve called TenMala, up in the Ghat mountain range. It was a beautiful area with a large dam and a lake surrounded by mountains. We also drove up the mountains a ways to see a giant waterfall. No one was there when we first arrived so we all jumped in and swam under its cold flowing waters. It was great being in a place where we weren’t surrounded by hundreds of other people. We hiked a bit through the forest and stopped to observe the monkey’ss along the way. That night we stayed with my friends Aunt and her two children and together we all slept on rolled out mats that covered the floor, like one big family. By the end of the trip we were feeling we got a rather thorough experience of Kerela, one that encompassed all sides, the tourist, the rural, the urban, the family life, and the cultural. It was amazing to experience India with my brother.
The days following Dave’s return however were especially difficult, as I had to once again get readjusted to being alone in India. I had been away from my site for so long that I felt I needed some time to reconnect to the community. I felt lonely and frustrated and sad. But within some days I started feeling apart of the community again and my spirits improved. To top it off, I received a package full of little Christmas presents, from my best friend, wishing me a belated Merry Christmas. Being over here has helped me see how truly important my friends and family are and I am realizing that maybe I am not called to be a missionary in another country, but to be involved in my own country, where many problems exist, and where I can be close to the family God has given me. I think I had an ideal that in order to serve God I needed to get away from everything, get away from my “old” life. I was attracted more by an ideal or serving in a foreign country. But I am learning that serving is a lifestyle and it is important for me to live my life close to the place God has laid my roots. The place I will always call home.