Where in the World is Sudie?
Archive for December, 2008
[Some of the boys from the Home of Love]
On Christmas Eve Achen, Kochamma, Binu (their son), and the six YAVs arrived at the Warangal railway station; we had survived a twenty-four hour train journey (complete with singing pilgrims), and were now in the state of Andhra Pradesh, Kerala’s neighbor to the northeast. Anu, Achen’s sister (x2 – by blood and by faith) was waiting for us at the station; she has lived in Andhra Pradesh since beginning her ministry with the area’s Parkal Mission and now runs a boys’ orphanage called the Home of Love. From the station we still had two hours left in our journey, so we all piled into the bus to drive the remaining distance.
Andhra Pradesh is a completely different environment than Kerala. Driving along its rural roads, we passed palmetto trees scattered among fields of cotton, newly harvested red chilies drying in the sun, and farmers riding atop hay bales, their Brahma cows under yoke. This is the backdrop of India’s agricultural center. However, despite the richness of its resources, Andhra Pradesh suffers under an obstinate feudal system that keeps the people of its agricultural sector impoverished. By the end of December we had spent four months in India, and we had certainly encountered poverty more conspicuous than any I have witnessed in the United States. However, this journey was our first exposure to the harsh conditions under which many Indians live, and it offered new insight into the extreme and humbling realities of economic injustice. The Home of Love is located amidst the cotton fields, in the state’s poorest district. A junction lies near the orphanage that boasts the area’s few shops, the church the boys attend stands across the street, and a ten-minute walk down the highway will take you to the Mission’s medical clinic. The remaining space is sparsely populated, with huts made of sticks and plastic sheets lining the roads and only the fields beyond.
Upon our arrival Anu, the staff, and the twenty-five boys living at the Home of Love welcomed us openly; the atmosphere of warmth and joy they had created was immediately apparent, and we were excited to be a part of it for Christmas. During our four days in Andhra Pradesh, we spent our time playing with the boys, seeing a few of the nearby sites (two temples and a lake), and visiting the Home of Love’s sister orphanage about an hour away. Every night we gathered for evening prayer, a time when we exchanged songs and skits and watched the littlest boys nod off to sleep. These evenings together formed some of my favorite memories from our visit. A return to Vacation Bible School days, the six of us reached into the recesses of our brains to find every song learned in Sunday school, complete with actions (which we pulled off with quite a bit of flare, if I do say so myself). Standards such as ‘This Little Light of Mine,’ ‘Hallelujah/Praise Ye the Lord,’ and ‘Father Abraham’ were received with energy and eagerness, and the movements even deterred the five-year-olds from sleep.
When December 25th arrived, it did not feel much like Christmas morning; I was lacking the day’s usual signifiers of cold weather, the smell of coffee brewing, and my sister waking me up at an ungodly hour. But as the day progressed, I realized I had never before experienced a Christmas where Emmanuel’s coming was met with such evident joy. Here we were, sharing in the celebration with children who had lost their family and whose visit from Father Christmas was purely a product of one community member’s generosity. Many of the people who joined us for worship on Christmas morning started their day in huts that couldn’t keep out the evening chill or the snakes, but they sang and clapped to the music of Christmas carols with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever experienced back home.
After joining the boys for worship at the church across the street, we accompanied Anu to a second service in a village a half hour away. We arrived to find a one-room church, beautifully decorated with streamers and balloons of every color, and empty save for the altar and a couple chairs in a back corner. The floor was covered with mats for sitting, and there were already enough women gathered to fill the left side of the room (the men’s side was significantly emptier). Kochamma, Ariel, Becca, Lindsey and I filed in right against the back wall, and the service began. Before long enough women and children had poured through the door to fill the right side of the church as well, and then enough to fill the aisle, and then the comfort bubble between the last row of men and the first row of women. People sat in positions that allowed them to occupy as little space as possible, perching on laps and putting knees at odd angles; the church was packed to the brim. And when the service ended and we stood to exit, I realized that this was where the men were, standing outside the doors for the duration of the service.
I think, in many ways, we live in a world not unlike the one Jesus knew. It is not the Roman Empire, yet we experience a time of globalization that arguably supports Western imperialism. Though the religious institutions wear a different façade than the ones Jesus criticized, we have formed churches that too often reinforce the status quo. And that which is holy now gets lost among the department store racks, like the temple was lost to the market . . . Two thousand years ago God sought out a humble woman of great faith to bear the Christ child, and that child lived with, ministered to, and advocated for society’s marginalized. In this world I believe God might choose to dwell among the farm laborers of rural Andhra Pradesh, relying on an Indian woman who can barely support her family, but shows great faith in God’s promise. After this Christmas I am certain that she, like Mary two millennia ago, would rejoice the most fully in the arrival of a liberating God made human.
(P.S. – It was certainly difficult to spend my first Christmas away from home. However, the tinge of homesickness began to lift as I realized I was singing ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’ with a worshipping community in Andhra Pradesh just as my church family back home was gathering on Christmas Eve to do the same. We are always more connected than with think . . . I hope everyone on both sides of the globe had a joyous Christmas full of peace, love, and hope.)
[With some of the boys from the Home of Love]
[Team India, Binu (farthest to the left on the top row), and some of our friends from the Home of Love]
[The ruins of a temple we visited near Parkal]
[A little taste of the An landscape, from the temple]
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[Lord Ayappan - the son of Shiva and Mohini (Vishnu's female form)]
For weeks shoeless men dressed in black dhotis have flooded Kerala’s railway stations. In addition to their attire, strands of marigolds tied to open train windows, chants echoing from neighboring compartments, and the sheer number of people makes them a conspicuous presence. These men are pilgrims, traveling to the Sri Ayappan forest temple at Sabarimala, around 50 kilometers east of Kottayam. According to my guidebook, this is the second largest pilgrimage in the world, one that culminates in mid-January during the festival of Makara Sankranti. However, for those who either cannot or choose not to participate (for instance, there is a centuries-old ban on women of menstrual age), there are alternative festivals to celebrate the deity Ayappan.
John, Lindsey, and I attended one such festival sponsored by the members of the Dalit Community where I tutor. Donning our traditional Kerala attire, the three of us joined my friends in a procession down the streets of Aluva, finishing at a shrine they had erected for the occasion. A group of men led the way with drums and dancing, the women followed carrying their decorative umbrellas and candles. John, Lindsey, and I (after losing our umbrella privileges . . . methinks due to inadequate handling) simply walked alongside, enjoying the energy of the evening.
[The procession for Lord Ayappan]
[The mother of one of the girls I tutor . . . reclaiming the umbrella]
[In my Kerala Sari]
“Truly he taught us to love one another
His law is love and his gospel is peace
Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother
And in his name all oppression shall cease”
- ‘Oh Holy Night’
The other day Achen’s guide for independent Bible study steered me to Luke 3:1-17, a discussion of John the Baptist’s ministry as one who prepares the way. This proved a rather appropriate text to stumble upon during this season of Advent, and one that left me wondering how we prepare for Christmas two millennia after Jesus’ birth.
This year preparing for Christmas has meant letting go of certain loved traditions: the advent wreath, Christmas carols in four-part harmony, the smell of pine trees and fireplaces, and watching Miracle on 34th Street with my family. I’m adjusting to the idea of celebrating Jesus’ birth in the midst of palm trees, and am learning to recognize the season by the paper stars that grace churches and Christian households. Bust most of all, as I identify differences between Christmas in St. Louis and Christmas in Aluva, I am left pondering this question of preparedness.
Christmas is about welcoming the Messiah - a baby born to humble parents who lay him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn. Despite reading the Christmas story every year, I think we often overlook the significant circumstances of Jesus’ birth . . . God did not look to the elite of society to parent the Christ child, but chose Mary and Joseph, individuals too poor to offer the recommended sacrifice at his circumcision (Luke 2:24). Mary delivered her baby in a stable - a fact so surprising it was met with wide eyes and dropped jaws when I explained it to my third graders during a lesson of ‘Away in a Manger.’ (‘No crib for his bed’ and ‘The cattle are lowing’ => Jesus was born in a ‘House for Animals’). But, in the face of rejection, there was no alternative for this couple; only the animals made them room. Finally, the angels shared the joyful news of Christ’s birth with the lowest of society – the shepherds watching o’er their flocks by night . . . God did not choose to dwell among the privileged, but among the marginalized.
However, in the materialism that surrounds Christmas in the western world, it seems we have lost sight of both Jesus’ humble beginnings and the essence of his ministry. As Mary suggests in her song (Luke 1:46-55), the coming of Emmanuel brings a promise of social and political change – “[God] has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.” And, standing with and for the marginalized, Jesus acts in accordance with this promise of justice during his time on earth . . .
For the past few weeks, I have been reading Naomi Klein’s No Logo (©2000) – a book that explores the dangers of multinational corporations, globalization, and free-market capitalism. It was disturbing to read her report of the world’s 1,000+ Export Processing Zones, all of which specialize in sprouting sweatshops throughout developing countries. Klein reveals that factories in Sri Lanka, India’s neighbor to the south and a country I will visit at the end of February, are notorious for human rights violations. Another of India’s neighbors, Pakistan, sees 10,000 children (many of them sold as indentured slave laborers) contributing to the mass production of Nike soccer balls. And a factory manager in El Salvador (not-so-far from our fellow YAVs in Guatemala) is guilty of firing 150 workers, simply because they organized a union drive to ensure humane conditions as they labored over Gap t-shirts.
Upon reading this, I opened my green, metal wardrobe (standard Indian) to find clothes bearing the labels of both aforementioned companies; my Gap t-shirts and Nike running pants traveled with me to India – a country that has approved tax breaks for Export Processing Zones in an attempt to keep pace with an increasingly global (and unjust) economy. This find reminded me that, through my purchasing power, I have ultimately contributed to the exploitation of people throughout the majority world. These are people who lie forgotten, hidden behind a curtain that runs between the east and the west; it seems our society specializes in disconnectedness, both enabling us to forget those who labor in sweatshops producing our goods and fostering a deep sense of helplessness when we realize our role in this oppressive system. It is an issue that seems particularly pertinent during Advent, a season that has turned quite materialistic with our quests for the perfect gifts. As a people whose most obvious means of preparing for Christmas is by hitting the malls, we largely neglect those who suffer the bonds of injustice . . . those among whom I believe God would still choose to dwell.
I do not mean to reproach our Christmas gift ritual; of course, there is something beautiful in the act of giving. God gave the world Jesus that we might learn to truly love and serve one another. This is the very reason gifts became central to the celebration of Christmas, and for me this is an important part of my family’s holiday routine. I love gathering around the Christmas tree, sharing in the excitement of opening gifts that have been selected with care, and I do not believe there is anything selfish in such an exchange. Instead, it is a celebration of relationships. On my birthday, I received gifts from the children I tutor in the Dalit Community. These are children who live in two-room, concrete-block houses that typically contain little more than a few pictures of whichever God they worship, some wooden benches, one or two beds, and enough to prepare and eat food. Yet, despite their material poverty, my students gave in a way that reminds us that genuine giving is essentially an act of love.
My hope for the Christmas season is that we can all give generously and sincerely, in a way that celebrates our existence as relational beings. But, more importantly, I hope we can give to our entire family – the family that lives under the same roof as well as the family that lives under the roof of a dormitory in an Export Processing Zone. As Christians we are called to love one another as Jesus taught us, and with that love comes true and complete justice for all people. In order to prepare for Emmanuel’s presence in our lives, we must commit ourselves to working toward this justice.
“‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because [God] has appointed me to bring good news to the poor.
[God] has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’”
(Luke 4: 18-19)
[Rimon and Afrah with two of the puppies]
One of my third standard students, Afrah, lives near U. C. College, and is the only other member of the Christava Mahilalayam community to share my bus stop. During my first week of teaching, Afrah invited me in for tea after school. I met her mother, father, and five-year-old brother, who welcomed me with smiles, delicious food, and the much needed feeling of family. Having both standard Malayalee hospitality and a knowledge of living abroad (Afrah’s father lived in England for six years), Sajitha and Sherif extended an open invitation to visit whenever I felt lonely, bored, or hungry. I have gratefully taken them up on their offer . . .
I now refer to Sherif, Sajitha, Afrah, and Rimon as my ‘pseudo host family.’ Whenever I show up at their door (usually after school, although sometimes on the weekends), Sajitha welcomes me with tea and snacks, and I spend a couple hours enjoying the closest thing to ‘home’ I’ve found in Aluva. When I’m feeling a bit livelier, I chase Rimon around as he speeds through the living room on his plastic tricycle; when I’m feeling particularly drained, I’m allowed to plop on the bed and watch television. Of course, the arrival of nine golden lab puppies in mid November shifted this routine a bit, but only added to the fun.
I’m consistently amazed at this family’s ability to rejuvenate me; their household is filled with warmth and humor, and the four automatically make me feel a part of it. The first day that I truly felt the pangs of homesickness, I came home with Afrah after school and Sajitha appeared with a homemade pizza as I sat watching Beauty and the Beast with the kids. Without knowing it, they care for me in a way that makes the distance from my own family feel a little more manageable.
And for the dog-lovers among you, I have included a few pictures . . .
[Tipsy - the proud mama]
[Enjoying having a puppy to nap in my lap]
Since my family arrives in 26 days (weeeee!), this seemed an appropriate time to publish those tidbits of information I wish I’d had before coming to India. Some of these points are irrelevant to those who will be in Kerala for a short time, but I hope they will be helpful to any future YAVs or long-term visitors . . .
1 ) I hear that standards of modesty differ throughout India, but in Kerala it is certainly wise to be cautious with the amount of skin you show (especially for women). Always keep your shoulders comfortably covered (I would recommend about a third of your upper arm), and avoid shirts with low necklines. Knee-length pants/skirts are acceptable, but most women above age 15 wear clothes that hit at the ankle. Also, pack a shawl that you can use to cover your head (or chest) if necessary. Just for your information . . . the churidhar shawl is used to mask your bosom . . . it’s not there because it’s fashionable. I’ll have to turn this topic over to John or David to discuss what is most comfortable/practical for the men.
2 ) Women always wear earrings, a necklace, and bangles. If you happen to forget such items, people will probably ask you why you’re not wearing them (or will just assume you’re Pentecostal).
3 ) Unless she’s in elementary school, a woman usually has long hair. And I mean long hair. It is a practical option . . . when in a humid climate where air-conditioning comes in the form of fans or open windows, it is much easier to keep hair pulled back in a braid or low ponytail. Also, if you’re spending any time with 8-year-olds, they will ask why you only have ‘this much hair.’ (Obviously not for the short-term visitor. But if you’re planning to move to India, don’t get a haircut).
4 ) Indians usually wear sandals/flip-flops – they’re cool and easy to slip off when entering a house or church (I wear Chaco flip-flops every day). Also, get in the habit of checking outside shops for abandoned shoes to see if you should remove yours.
5 ) Always have a ‘torch’ (flashlight) handy . . . there are scheduled half-hour power outages every night, and you never know when the ‘current’ will go.
6 ) Many Indians carry umbrellas (preferably with a metallic lining) to ward off the sun. You will sweat sunscreen off in two seconds flat.
7 ) Handkerchiefs are your best friends . . . toilet paper and tissues are hard to find, and you need something to wipe the sweat away.
8 ) Hand Sanitizer is usually a travelers’ necessity, but you may find it particularly useful in a culture where people eat with their hands. All restaurants (called ‘hotels’ here) have sinks in the corner for washing, but you never know when someone will drop food in your hand. I just wash as often as possible.
9 ) Mathi [ma (as in mother) – tea (as in the beverage)] is the most useful Malayalam word. It means enough, and is used quite frequently at meals. Equally helpful is venda [vein (as in the thing your blood runs through . . . with a hint of a ‘w’ in the ‘v’) – da] which means I don’t want. This is also useful at meals, and when propositioned by a shopkeeper or taxi driver. In fact – Malayalees are surprised to hear a white person use this term and may sometimes get quite excited or even say ‘thank you,’ even though you just rejected their sales pitch. In case you do happen to want something, the response is venum.
10 ) In Kerala, affirmation and thanks are not commonly communicated verbally. The best way to show appreciation is though action. This definitely pertains to meals . . . so eat well.
11 ) If you are visiting Kerala for a short time and are not feeling particularly adventurous, bring your own toilet paper. If you are feeling adventurous or are visiting for a long time, prepare to use your left hand as you have never used it before.
12 ) Always be conscious of interactions between the genders. This is particularly important when in a church or on a bus where men and women sit on different sides of the aisle (usually women on the right, men on the left). Also, men and women rarely touch in public . . . however, it is completely appropriate to hold hands with friends of the same gender.
13 ) I would recommend using the long plane ride to memorize a couple songs (especially ‘My Heart Will Go On’ from Titanic). You WILL be asked to sing.
Fellow YAVs – if you have anything to add, feel free!
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