Go, Iraqi Voters!

The train pulled into Hyderabad around 7:30 pm. Dad called for a city cab, but one wasn't available for another ½ hour. So we wandered through the mass of taxi drivers begging us for business. Dad decided to walk further away from the station to get one, since they were already on the road and we wouldn't have to pay extra to just get out of the train station parking area. It also gave Dad a chance to "shop" for the best-quality auto-rickshaw. The road outside the station was jammed with auto-rickshaws. A traffic cop used a large wooden stick to smack the auto-rickshaws that were holding up traffic. I almost got blind-sided by the stick, but I don't think the cop noticed. Dad and I went in one auto-rickshaw, Mom and "L" in another. In the end, it would cost about the same as taking one city cab (about Rs. 60 x 2)

Dad and I took a walk to a nearby grocery store. We passed by the Maoist community across the street, one block away. Hammer-and-sickle symbols were painted on the walls of the homes, which were shabbier than the homes in our neighborhood and the puri on the other side of it. Announcements in Telugu about Maoist events accompanied the Soviet symbols. "CPI", also painted on the walls, stands for "Communist Party of India". Dad greeted a fellow in this area, someone he hopes to talk with about Christ. Dad describes this fellow as a Maoist gangster of sorts. Maoists who tend towards a more gangster/renegade/anarchist approach in their philosophy are referred to as Naxals or Naxalites. The Naxals often live out in the woods where they often plan acts of terror to make their political views known.

We got home, ate, took naps, and watched "The Amazing Race" and "Who's Line Is It Anyway?" Mom and Dad are feeling under the weather. We hope they don't get sick. The trip to Goa we're planning for them is looking doubtful at this point, considering it'll be double the train ride distance we just took to Vizag.

The rains came today, quite heavily. (The local Deccan Chronicle mentioned that a Muslim nazam was held yesterday to pray for rain. Thousands from the area apparently participated.) Mosquitoes abounded. Dad used a vacuum cleaner while I used a hand-held bug zapper shaped like a racquetball racquet that "L" bought in China for her parents. It's quite a nifty, fun tool, but I doubt it'll ever be sold in the U.S.---gov't safety issues and all. We killed quite a few today, but they still kept coming.

We watched CNN with interest re: the Iraqi elections. The Deccan Chronicle reported on its success and the hope for Iraq's future. The Chronicle did so despite the fact that it seems anti-Bush and anti-America, printing many op-eds from Western sources that don't favor Bush or America. Dad, Mom, and "L" are equally interested in the news developments.

If A Beggar Came By Your Church...

The sound of Hindu pop music blared loudly next door as we awoke. Rajiv said there was a wedding celebration going on.

We walked to the United Christ Church, Auntie "P" and her family's home church and just a few blocks away from home. About 200-250 people were in attendance. It was packed. The church looked a lot like the old churches on the U.S. East Coast, colored white with a large steeple. The pastor dressed in dignified white robes. The sermon was in Telugu, with some English sprinkled in between (Rajiv said the pastor used to speak more in English, but gave way to a demand that sermons be more in Telugu). Every Indian church I've been to so far does a "silent prayer" at the end of the service, just like my church back in the U.S. Except for a few exceptions, women and men sat on separate sides of the sanctuary.

Before and after the service, groups of cars, scooters, and motor vehicles loudly announced the presence of some VIP politician. Flags of the Congress party flew from many of them. Firecrackers blasted randomly around them. They may have been celebrating the 57th anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi's death, which I'd been reading about.

After the service, beggars lined the church entrance asking for handouts. Some gave, some didn't. I didn't blame anyone for not responding. How would churches in the America deal with such similar situations?

On the way home, I noticed a couple of scooters that had spare tire covers with a picture of the Seattle skyline on it! Surprising to see that in Vizag, off all places. I wish I had a camera at the time.

The next-door Hindu music was still playing when we came home.

We spent the afternoon packing. Sanjay wanted to play the games we taught him. Both he and Rajiv seem to be pretty good kids and show affection to their mom. Grandma played "10,000" along with us.

We said goodbye to the two grandmas. Auntie "P", Rajiv, and Sanjay accompanied us to the Vizag train station to say goodbye to us. They had to pay Rs. 3 each just to come into the station.

The train left Vizag around 5 pm. We shared our section on the train with a couple and their two small kids (one a tiny baby). The usual beggars and vendors walked up and down the aisles on our train. One boy wearing fake glasses and covered in silver paint emotionlessly pandered for money. Dad said he was dressing like Gandhi (apparently in observation of Gandhi's death anniversary?). Most folks gave him odd stares. We saw him walking along one station and then later as the train was moving. He then got scurried off at the next station, possibly to board the next train going in the other direction. Seems like the M.O. of most beggars.

"L" and I slept on the top bunk this time, while Mom and Dad slept in the middle. Though it was closer to the fans, it was still hot and thus hard to fall asleep.

Visiting Vizag, Part II

I took a bath (same way as at home in Hyderabad....heated water in a bucket and poured over body). The water seemed to drain right outside the walls onto the streets below, but not sure.

Seven of us (Dad, Mom, Auntie "P", Rajiv, Sanjay, "L", and I) piled into the Indicar. Rajiv drove us all to Sundar Beach. Several families were there as well. It was a sunny, breezy day. We waded in the ocean water, which was somewhat warm. We learned that the tsunami did impact that area, albeit not significantly....a section of light brown sand far up the beach outlined where the waves stopped, which wasn't more than 100 yards from where the water was while we were there. Some boys were playing cricket on the beach. Dad talked with a Hindu boater about faith and prayed with him. We bought some roasted, lime-and-salt-covered corn-on-the-cob and also coconut juice from some street-side vendors.

We drove to a roadside restaurant and had a light lunch. The restaurant was easy to miss and we caught as we were turning a curve. The restaurant was part of a large garden. Work towards access to the beach was apparently still under construction. It was not busy. We ate a meal of Singaporean noodles and puri with some kind of curry (Rs. 427 altogether....not bad).

Rajiv drove us to a lookout point atop a small mountain. Rs. 25 entry fee for a car. The view of the city and beach was nice, albeit hazy. Afterwards, we wound through the city and along the waterfront. We passed by an old Soviet submarine that was docked, apparently as a tourist attraction. Lots of people hung out, including many couples. Vizag, Rajiv believes, is ripe for expansion economically. About 200,000 people live there and it's growing.

We later went to a shopping mall called CMR (not sure what it stood for). It seemed quite modern, with trees in front fashioned totally out of lights and large posters advertising its wares. I tried to take a picture, but a cop told me not to.

Rajiv been driving since he was 18 (legal age in India to drive). He learned from his dad. He said he doesn't get nervous or stressed driving through the wild traffic, as he's been used to it growing up. He does admit getting mad at drivers who just stop in the middle of traffic, which happens often. Rajiv honks a lot while driving, which is how drivers let each other know they're passing. We chatted a bit about the differences between driving in the U.S. and in India.

We arrived home to once again eat dinner at 11:30 pm. That's pretty late, even for Indians, who usually eat no earlier than 8 pm. Rajiv and I scootered out to pick up some milk and fruit juices. The fruit juices were made fresh. The vendors noticed my American dollar bill as I took out rupees to pay for the drinks. Rajiv says most people have never seen foreign currency and assume it's all American. He also said the reason why most signs and billboards outside businesses are in English is because it's for show....it denotes quality. If a business advertises in another language, people won't be as apt to cater to it.

Visiting Vizag, Part I

The bunks in the train cars stack three high in groups of 2 per section (making 6 bunks per section) on one side of the train, two high on the other side. The middle bunks fold up, allowing the bottom bunks to be used as benches. I slept in the middle bunk on one side of our section, "L" in the middle on the other side. Mom and Dad likewise occupied the bottom bunks. Despite having room to stretch lying down, I didn't sleep all that well. It was quite warm, even with 3 fans blowing from the ceiling in our aisle. The bed was hard and the sheets we brought kept sliding around. I was conscious of wearing only shorts in public (no one else was wearing them), so I used my lungi as a thin blanket.

Price for one-way train ticket from Hyderabad to Vizag = Rs. 1034 for four people. That's about US $25 a person. Not bad.

We got into Vizag and navigated through masses of disembarking passengers and men asking to help us carry bags or offer taxis. We met Rajiv, "L's" 19-year-old cousin. He and his driver friend loaded up their Tata Indicar (about the size of a 4-door Geo Metro) and took us to their home. We met Sanjay, Rajiv's little brother, and Auntie "P", their mom (she's Mom's youngest sister). Uncle "R" was in Nasig and would be for a few years at least. We won't be meeting him during our time in Vizag. We also met Auntie "P's" mother ("L's" grandmother), who lives with them, and her mother-in-law, who lives alone in an apartment below them.
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We mainly hung out at home for the rest of the day. "L" and I taught Auntie "P", Rajiv, and Sanjay how to play "Hand & Foot" and "Pounce". "L" also taught a dice game called "10,000".

The weather seems a bit cooler, albeit more humid. Vizag is next to the Bay of Bengal. The beach is about 10 km away.

Rajiv is studying info technology at a Muslim college. It takes him 1.5 hours to get there. Sanjay is in 8th grade. He likes to play more than study, but he seems to be a good student, judging from the homework we saw of his. Sanjay attends a Catholic school, which he said is not as harsh as the public schools, which make students go to school for longer days, more days in a year, and would often hit students for not doing well.

We ate dinner quite late, around 11:30 pm. It's normal to eat dinner in India after 8 pm. Auntie "P's" home has a cute little sink in the corner of the dining room. Those who can afford it always have one, so people can conveniently wash their hands before and after eating dinner with them. By the way, I'm getting pretty used to eating with my hands now.

Rajiv spent the evening trying to get a DVD player to work in his computer, but wasn't able to, even after downloading countless drivers. We were hoping to see the DVD of our wedding that Auntie "S" made for us in Boxford.

We learned that the tsunami didn't affect Vizag too much. Some people did die here, but it was mainly because they were out in the ocean taking a Hindu holy bath. There was little property damage, if any. Rajiv and Auntie "P" said they could feel the vibrations of the waves crashing on the coastline. Makes a bit of sense, since the tsunami was just energy created by an earthquake.

Dad and I got into a spirited discussion about the place of Biblical philosophy in developing government policy.

Voyage To Vizag

We got up at 6 am to say goodbye to Uncle Mamaya, who is leaving for Mumbai and then home to Oman. He'll be missed. We've been blessed by his presence.

We had breakfast with Mr. "K". We had an interesting chat about visas to the U.S. and life/work in Oman and the Middle East.

Dad's relatives (about 12 of them) from the coastal villages stopped by for a visit. They were going on a tour around town. One of their stops was to visit me. They listened to Dad and me talk for a while, but did little talking themselves. "L" says they talk a lot if they were using their own language at their own home. Mom from Vancouver called in the middle of the visit, which was nice.

The rest of the afternoon was spent packing for the train trip to Vizag. We watched "Oprah" during the time, which featured an 14-year-old Iraqi boy who turned his insurgent father over to the U.S. and gained asylum to the U.S., and 7 American children stranded at a Nigerian orphanage, abandoned there by their adoptive mom. "L" talked on the side about what it would be like to adopt those 7 kids. I love that she thinks on the edge like that.

We took a city cab to the train station. We boarded a train heading for Visakhapatnam, aka Vizag. Vendors selling all sorts of food wandered up and down the aisle. Beggars also took advantage, though they weren't supposed to. A cop accosted one beggar boy and told him to get out, but that didn't stop others from coming. On one occasion, three "women" in sarees got a little demanding and touchy with the man sitting next to me. "L" suspected they might've been transsexuals, since Indian women wouldn't normally act like that towards strange men. Other women, some blind, walked by singing songs (sometimes Christian Telugu songs). "L" encourage Mom and Dad to give to some who were obviously disabled (one guy had pointy stumps for arms). We gave some samosas (triangular dumplings) to a couple of them.

The toilets on the train were clean, but smelly. Flushing dumped the toilet contents outside onto the tracks below. Of course, no flushing was allowed at station stops. Wouldn't want to be stinking up the areas where people stand.

The train made several stops in villages along the way, but no announcements were made as to where the stops were. Guess you just need to know when/where to get off on your own.

Much of the journey went through lots of open space, which surprised me, since India's so populous and is relatively small in land mass compared to China.

Happy Republic Day! Happy Reception!

Today is Republic Day in India, which is like Independence Day in the U.S. Many places around the city prepared for celebrations. Some places, I read, chose to tone festivities down out of respect for those who died in the tsunami and in the recent stampede at a Hindu temple near Mumbai.

We had breakfast with Mr. "K", Uncle Mamaya's wife's cousin's husband. Mr. "K" is a Muslim. He went to the Hajj last year during his stay in Oman last year. He was in Oman because his wife was there teaching English for a year. Mr. "K" had just taken voluntary retirement to spend a year in Oman. He took advantage of being so close to Mecca to take part in the Hajj, along with his wife. Uncle Mamaya said Mr. "K" became more devout in Islam after his Hajj pilgrimage. We invited Mr. "K" to tonight's reception, which he said he would try to come.

We spent the morning and afternoon getting ready for the reception tonight. We tested the VCR, computer, and projector to make sure it was working together properly. Dad rented a Ambassador cab for the day, allowing us to go back and forth to the Taj Tristar freely.

Time went by as more things needed to be done. I was getting concerned as the minutes and hours passed that we might not make it to the Taj Tristar at the 6:30 pm time. We managed to leave home around 6:30 pm. We stopped by the "5th Avenue Bakery" to pick up a cake. Things felt being rushed out, which didn't feel too good.

The reception, however, turned out much better than expected. About 150 came, although it seemed like more. More than half came after we started, even tho' it was a hour later than we had planned. We scrambled to get things set up. The only thing that didn't work right was the computer speakers; we used Dad's portable P.A. machine instead. We showed a Powerpoint presentation that "L" put together, along with the video of the wedding, and then part of the reception on the DVD. "L" and I cut the cake, fed each other, and exchanged garlands with each other, to the applause of the audience. Uncle Mamaya did a superb job MC'ing the entire affair, given that he had little time to prepare.

After the ceremony, everyone lined up to congratulate us and give us gifts. It was quite a line of people. Many were from SBF and Sram Ashram, others were relatives. I met Dad's side of the family. Dad's older brothers all gave me hugs. Dad's oldest brother hugged me the most. I was very touched and surprised by this. Their acceptance was something of a surprise to me, as "L" was worried how I, being a non-Indian foreigner, would be received as an in-law. It seems they received me quite warmly.

The highlight of the evening was the moment when everyone sang "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" on cue with the video at the point when it was sung at the Boxford wedding. I was moved to tears immediately upon the first strains of the hymn, which the group sang loudly. I guess it was the awe of witnessing two different bodies of believers, on completely different days, and in completely different countries (Boxford, USA and Hyderabad, India) and cultures sharing a common spiritual bond via this amazing and wonderful hymn of praise. It was truly magical and divine. I took took the mic afterwards and told our guests how much "L" and I were blessed by this unforgettable moment God provided for us. Everyone applauded in agreement.

Mr. "K" did make it to the reception, along with about a dozen of Dad's relatives. Some of Dad's relatives are Hindu, along with some of the hotel employees present, I'm sure. Along with Mr. "K", we hope they got to experience a bit of God's spirit in the ceremony.

The Taj Tristar staff were very accommodating and friendly, in spite of the sometimes-tense negotiations leading up to the event. They heartily wished us all well.

Folding Arms Have Different Meanings

We had good breakfast and lunch discussions with Uncle Mamaya, Mom, and Dad. We talked about different body languages, some of which surprised me. Did you know that in India, folding one's arms across one's chest during conversation is considered a gesture of humility and deference towards the speaker, whereas in the West, most consider it defiance or defensiveness?

Around 6 pm, Dad, Mom, "L", and I rented a city cab to go to a restaurant in Kukatpally to attend a 10th anniversary party for the stepdaughter and step-son-in-law of Auntie "R", Mom's younger sister. It was quite far, about 25 km and Rs. 250-300. Dad quite in a bit of an argument with the driver, who he felt was being dishonest with the cab meter.

The ceremony was simple, with a sermon from a Telugu pastor and some hymn-singing. Dad and Uncle Mamaya also spoke (in English, for my benefit, they said). The husband/wife being honored exchanged thick garlands, a part of the Indian tradition of honor. A surprise came when the pastor asked us to come up to be prayed for. It was a way of recognizing us as newlyweds. We were asked up again later, on stage, to exchange garlands ourselves, courtesy of Auntie "R" and her husband. It was a bit awkward, as I wasn't familiar with the custom, but it was fun. I was touched by the gesture and the prayers.

Remembering Peddamma

We went to Uncle "W's" apartment around 3:00 pm. His apartment has two bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The apartment was old and somewhat decrepit. The bathrooms weren't very clean. Its doors and walls were worn, beat-up, and stained. It'd been a while since it'd been occupied. He and Peddamma and their 3 kids lived there for 20 years before moving to New Zealand, where Peddamma passed away 2 years ago. Even tho' they haven't lived there for a while, Uncle "W" still keeps it as a place for them to stay in India. He still keeps his power, cable modem, and cable TV running all this time. We hung around waiting until 6:30 pm to set up for the service. People trickled in slowly, including families and kids "L" didn't know. We sang hymns and listened to people share about Peddamma. A pastor shared some words from the Bible, along with Uncle Mamaya and Dad. "L" wrote some thoughts for me to read aloud, since she was too emotional to do so. Dad translated into Telugu. We later ate dinner and met some more relatives before piling into a city cab heading home. Dad had bought 10 chairs for use during the service. We brought them home, along with other things. It was a tight squeeze, but we made it.

Visiting The Shanties

Dad and I scootered early to go to church. Dad taught Sunday School. About 15 people showed up. He taught on 1 Corinthians.

Pastor "E" gave a long sermon on evangelism. He exhorted SBF to do more in the area of reaching out to the growing English-speaking community of Hyderabad, Secunderabad, and soon-to-be Cyberabad. We sang hymns out of an 50-year-old Baptist hymnal that had "America the Beautiful" and "The Star-Spangled Banner" in it.

While leaving, I took some pix of Secunderabad traffic. I didn't notice this before, but there is a HUGE squatter area right across the street from SBF. Several acres covered with small huts where families lived.

During the afternoon at home, we watched "Mr. Bean" on TV.

Around 4:30 pm, Dad and I joined "Y" (one of Dad's workers and a mid-20's pastor of a church reaching out to the poor) and some of his colleagues to visit some families who lived in a nearby squatter area about 2 km from Dad and Mom's home. There were 4 small, A-framed huts there. A covered latrine sat nearby. Chiseled stones arranged in circles provided the families with fireplaces. Litter was strewn about. Pigs and chickens wandered through towards the nearby Kalyan "downtown" area. The fathers of the families, along with their kids, came to listen to Dad speak on various topics. I told the little story about the boat and the lucky T-shirt to the kids, using paper they provided (Dad wouldn't let me use the paper scraps strewn about the ground). The kids really like seeing their pics on "L's" digicam. It started to rain a bit. Dad and "Y" passed out candy. Four Bibles were given to four men (presumably the dads). We left shaking hands with everyone. The kids said in broken English, "Thank you, sir" and "Bye, bye". The families, I learned, had attended "Y's" church once. They are of Hindu background. "L" and Mom said that many such families don't try very hard to take themselves out of poverty because of their Hindu beliefs in karma and of the caste system. Some still spend lavishly on Hindu festivals, in spite of their indigent state.

"Bee" Careful When Ordering Fast Food...

Slow day today. "L" and I went to the Internet café for a couple of hours. We took some pictures as well. One favorite was that of a herd of buffaloes being led across a residential road.

Dad and I went out to "5th Avenue Bakery" to pick up 4 small pizza, 2 hamburgers, and 4 drinks (all for Rs. 260). The place is quite popular, owned by Iranians who don't speak the local language well. There were large bee/wasps that swarmed part of the ceiling, which was a little weird. Probably a hive nesting somewhere in the restaurant ceiling. Yikes!

That's Eid as in "Eden", Not "Eyed"

Today is a Muslim holiday, Eid-Mubarak. I believe it's the celebration of the end of Hajj.

We spent the morning relaxing, talking, and having breakfast with Uncle Mamaya, Mom, and Dad. We talked about Uncle Mamaya's life in Oman. He invited us to come sometime. Muscat is apparently very modern, clean, and orderly, almost like any Western city, which explains why ex-pats growing up there may not want to leave.

We watched "American Idol" together. I've never watched this show, except once on someone's video tape. To think I had to come to India to see it for the first time.

Pastor "E" from SBF (a local church) dropped by for a chat. Dad and Uncle Mamaya talked about life as pastors. Pastor "E" has done some work with Ravi Zacharias. Actually, he kinda sounds like him. Later Uncle "R" (from Vizag....Mom's cousin who also married Mom's youngest sister) and Uncle from NZ dropped by. Listening to them talk about the faith community in India and abroad was fascinating to say the least. Pastor "E" said a prayer before he left.

"L" and I took a walk around. Small, A-frame squatter shacks dot the neighborhood. Barefoot children played outside in the shadow of small stores, farms, and a couple of Hindu temples. Two girls and a boy dressed in kung fu outfits practiced on a dirt field, perhaps awaiting their instructor (a sign off the road said kung fu lessons would be held there). The usual cows, chickens, stray dogs, stray cats, and pigs, of course. The sun was large, red, and soft. We took a few pix on the terrace.

Hitting A Wall

We dressed to go to a betrothal ceremony for Mom's cousin's son and his fiancé. It was outdoors. Festive marigolds, jasmine, and balloons half-dipped in psychedelic paint decorated the stage. The audience was coverd by a large, colorful, worn, quilted cloth held up by large sticks cut from trees. Several men, including Dad and Uncle Mamaya, took turns making speeches, reading the Bible, praying, and singing. Some present were Hindus, who didn't pay much attention. Many of them were colleagues of the bride-and-groom-to-be. Not as many family members were present as they wished, which made our presence all the more meaningful to them. The entire service was conducted in Telugu. The families of the groom gave gifts to the bride's family. Rings were exchanged. The bride and groom were stoic for the most part, but after the service, they seemed more loose. We went up to the stage later and congratulated them. There were plates of flower petals on chairs next to them. People would sprinkle them on the bride and groom's heads as they congratulated them.

For the first time, I felt I hit a wall culturally. I felt stifled by the traditions and expectations on me as a foreigner, American, and member of an Indian family. It's one thing to be a foreign observer, tourist, even aid worker. But having intimate connections with a family via marriage brings about new challenges I'd never anticipated. I felt too restricted, too nagged, overwhelmed by what's considered proper and improper in India. India seems more restrictive in allowing social and casual self-expression than the U.S. Expression in media (which India and the U.S. are about par) is one thing --- social interactions are another. Maybe it's still early and my education into this side of culture is at pre-school level. I also acknowledge my history of bucking, questioning, and challenging the traditions and cultures I grew up with (American, Asian, Christian). Doing so as a newcomer to a more rigid (or at least seemingly so) culture like India's is not as easy. I sometimes wonder if those close to me in India grow weary of hearing my questions about things that may be more obvious to them. So rather than try to do the "right" thing culturally, I felt for the moment it was easier to take the path of least resistance and say/do nothing or as little as possible, to avoid doing the "wrong" thing. However, I risk alienating myself or coming across as cold, impolite, and unfriendly. "L" and I had a good talk about this and cleared up some misunderstandings.

The "city cab" was a bit hard to come by, apparently because many taxi drivers are Muslim and are taking the day off for Eid-Mubarak. Also, many Muslims are taking what taxis are left for the celebration, further diminishing the supply.

Beggars are all around the streets, knocking on car windows asking for money or something to eat. Two little girls saw a half-drank bottle of Coke I had and excitedly motioned how they wanted it. I opened the window and handed it to them. They immediately snatched it and drank it together greedily.

A Man From Oman

Dad and I scootered to the airport to pick up Uncle Mamaya from Oman. Uncle Mamaya is Mom's younger brother.

Dad commented that Hyderabad used to be very simple, uncrowded, mild, back 10 years ago, but now it's become more and more like Kolkata and Mumbai. More traffic, pollution, crowds now. He said that many places just on the outskirts don't have traffic lights (I noticed very few traffic lights around where we live), which is because the twin cities (Hyderabad/Secunderabad) haven't quite caught up with the immense growth around it.

We waited for a "city cab" taxi, but couldn't seem to get one, even tho' Dad called in for one several times. Uncle Mamaya and I climbed aboard an auto-rickshaw instead. We had a good conversation along the way. Uncle Mamaya serves in an international church in Oman. He's been there the past 8 years, although he's thinking about moving on. He originally did some work in Rajasthan with the Muslims. His wife is a Christian convert from Islam and was ostracized by her family.

We had a prayer meeting at 7 pm. No one came for the first half-hour, during which time Mom, "L", and I sang songs while I played guitar. Two couples came later. We sang more songs and then shared. Dad came by eventually. We shared requests and then went around the circle to pray. One woman named Samla shared how she'd been sharing with customers at her store. They'd been asking questions about her faith and she welcomed the opportunity to share. All the ones she shared with come from a Hindu background.

So THAT'S How You Spell "Chudidar"

Dad, Mom, "L", and I went out to check out a restaurant/hotel called Taj Tristar. It was nice. We considered the price of Rs. 160+ tax/gratuity per head for vegetarian buffet, but are considering a non-veg arrangement, which would curiously up the price to Rs. 320+ tax/gratuity per head. We considered the dates of Jan. 26 and 28. Dad prayed with the hotel manager and his colleagues.

A curious thing to note: most signs around Hyderabad are written in English. Few are written in Hindi, Telugu, or Urdu. Yet most folks speak a language other than English.

"Chudidar" and "gagra choli"....so that's how you spell these Indian women outfits. It helped to see signs advertising these things at the mall.

Dad and Mom went to the airport to meet an auditor for Sram Ashram. By 12 midnight, they hadn't returned. We got pretty worried. "L" suggested we pray. I started praying, and before I finished, the phone rang. It was Dad! He assured us they were okay, that they ran late, and were on their way home. I cried over the goodness of God and the instantaneous answer to prayer, which hasn't happened to me that often.

Fetching Pails Of Water

I heard a loud siren sound in the neighborhood today. No, it wasn't a fire. Just the opposite. The municipal water truck sounded its alarm, letting the neighborhood know it was around. This is how Mom and Dad get their good water for cooking and bathing, as opposed to the running tap water used for washing clothes, dishes, mopping, etc. This truck comes about once every 4 days. You never know when it'll come around, which can be a hassle, especially when you're low on water. Kinda like waiting for the cable guy.

Dad and I rushed out with around 10 large buckets and jugs to fill them up. Other neighbors jostled for position beside the spigots of the water tanks. I ran out to help, but "L" and Mom beckoned me not to go out with Dad. They worried what the neighbors would think, since I was a foreign guest. They worried that it would appear they were "rudely putting their guest to work", even when I offered to help. They said it wasn't any problem offering to help inside the house, since it won't be noticed by neighbors. "L" explained that it was more not being a "stumbling block" of sorts to the neighbors. Mom insisted on distributing the water where it was to go, since she knew best and felt it too complicated to explain.

So You're From China, Eh?

We attended church today. "L", Mom, and I took a 3-wheel motorized taxi known as an "auto-rickshaw" there. It costs Rs. 8 to start. A guest speaker from North Carolina came to deliver the sermon. During announcements, the church's pastor introduced us as newlyweds. Thinking I was born in China (which I'm not), the pastor added a joking, political comment about a dowry in the form of giving back land China took from India. Beats me what he was talking about, so no offense taken.

With that, they prayed for us and our upcoming trip to China.

A Dedication And A Concert

Dad and I scootered to the new training center, where it'll be dedicated. Riding a scooter (moped) through the streets of India is no small thing. Especially when carrying an electronic keyboard, as I was doing. The training center is about 2 miles away. About 35 men and 10 women attended. Dad said many were involved in church planting among the poor and are quite influential. One of the women and one of the men worked for World Vision India. Much time was spent divided up in prayer in separate rooms.

The training center is being donated by a family who lives next door. The elderly couple living there originally built the home to house their daughter and son-in-law. But the daughter and son-in-law moved to the son-in-law's parents to care for them, since they are ill. So the couple (the husband was a colonel in the Indian army) and the son-in-law decided to rent it out to Sram Ashram as a training center instead.

We ate a large lunch with everyone. Most people sat orderly on the floor. "L" and I sat with the colonel, his wife, Mom, and Uncle "V" and his son (who live across the street from us). The colonel asked me questions about why Americans don't know much about India, even tho' Indians dominate fields there such as medicine and technology. I told him that the only people who could inform Americans about India are people from India and that Indians need to share about India via media vehicles in the same way people in India learn about America (e.g. TV, radio, magazines, newspapers, etc). Simply put, Americans don't subscribe to Indian stations the way Indians subscribe to CNN, ESPN, MTV, etc. I don't see that as Americans being disinterested in India as I see it Indians being fascinated by America. Overall, it was a spirited discussion, which I enjoyed. I like the colonel....a pleasant guy to talk with.

Speaking of newspapers, I'm very surprised to see how much is written about the U.S. in the local Indian newspapers, like the Deccan Chronicle. They even print editorials written by American columnists like Maureen Dowd ranting about "Bush's failed policies with Social Security". Now why Indians halfway around the world would concern themselves with things like America's Social Security policies is beyond me (other than the local Indian press eagerly print anything that denigrates Bush, which is quite common here, I'm finding).

Back to the colonel....colonel served in the 3 most recent wars India fought, including one with West Pakistan in 1971. India apparently sided with East Pakistan at the time, winning their independence from West Pakistan and helping them transform into Bangladesh. The colonel said, however, that Bangladesh is now even more hostile to India than Pakistan is. He feels it's mainly because of religion and "jihad", that Muslims in Bangladesh may have felt ashamed to have been liberated by non-Muslims and express their humiliation as animosity against their liberators.

We went to the Hillsong concert. We went with a few families, piling into two cars. The Hillsong concert was at Nazim College in Hyderabad, about a 25-minute drive. The concert was outdoors, attended by perhaps 10,000 or more. Someone said 30,000 attended yesterday. We sat in the VIP section, since Uncle "A" is a leader of Gospel Mission India (GMI). We drove backstage and walked to the section. A talented Telugu band played first, singing Telugu praise songs. The music was quite loud. Cotton balls in ears helped. The stage was filled with technical gadgets. A video on AIDS and abstinence, featuring Indian actors, interviewees, and narrators, was shown. "L" was quite surprised by its overtness (using words like "sex" and "condom" freely). The Hillsong group consisted of 8 British and 8 Australian members. They jumped and danced about a lot. Most of the audience up front did likewise, jumping up and down in a "mosh" style. Mostly teen boys did, but some girls in saris and chittidars did as well, which was curious to watch. A woman named Christine Caine gave a forceful message and altar call. Several hundred people raised hands making a profession of faith in Christ. I asked if this was against the law, since I thought foreigners weren't allowed to share the Gospel. Uncle "A" and Dad told me that having Hillsong deliver an anti-AIDS message may have helped their cause a bit, along with the possibility that the Indian gov't may not have cared to enforce it anyway.

Someone in our group opined that the messages delivered by Hillsong may have gotten lost on the crowd because the main speaker was a woman, white, and a Westerner with a checkered past (born illegitimately and abandoned by her biological parents), who dared to lecture "holier-than-thou" Indians on moral and purity issues. They thought this may have been seen as hypocritical within the larger Indian society.

Sankranti? Um, I'll have coffee instead...

Am told that today is the beginning of a 3-day Hindu festival called
"Sankranti". What it is, I'm not sure, but maybe this might shed some light....

8:23 pm, 14 Jan 2005

Okay, finished reading it....still not clear. So far, I haven't noticed any festive changes in the air. Then again, I haven't been in town long enough to know what's different about it.

Checkin' out the local textile fair

Dad, Mom, "L", and I attended an exhibition (similar to a county fair) in Hyderabad. It's called the "65th All-India Industrial Exhibition". Textiles from all over India and Kashmir abounded. We bought a bunch of scarves and a couple of lungis (pronounced "LOON-ghee") wraparounds for men to be worn at home. "L" said the vendors noticed my "foreign" presence and hence were being sticklers while bartering, so Mom asked me to keep my distance. Most things were listed at fixed rate anyway. A lot of Muslim women dressed in abayas were there. Dad said there seemed to be more people dressed that way than ever before. He thinks it's because Muslims are feeling the need to be more bold in the faith. A number of boys ran around selling everything from balloon animals to mothballs to toys. Quite the fair.

Rangolis

"L" and I took a walk though the neighborhood. The sun shines brightly with nary a cloud. It's quite warm, but not sweltering. Chickens, roosters, goats, cows, and buffaloes share the area along with homes, cars, motorbikes, and people.

Curious, intricate drawings covered the driveways of many homes. They're called "rangolis" (they may be called different things in other states). "L" says they're there to ward off snakes. The powder used for the drawings irritate the snakes. "L" said there aren't many snakes in the area and that it's mainly a custom more than anything, not related to any religion per se. Dad and Mom don't do this.

We visited "L's" god-family. We met "Dy" and her mom. They have a feisty, 10-month-old golden lab named Cushy (Hindi for "happy"). Along the way home, we stopped by "L's" friends, "A.N." and "A.C.". Their mom was home. Their dad, who's a pastor, came home later. Their 2 dogs scurried mischievously about. "A.N." has a master's degree and teaches in a school. She teaches full-time and makes about Rs. 1000 /month (USD $22). "L" encouraged both "A.N." and "A.C." to consider teaching English in China, which pays much more working less hours.

Baths/showers are taken by filling large buckets with warm water heated over a gas burner. The water is then scooped by a small pail onto one's body. Mom and Dad get their drinking and bathing water from a tanker truck that comes by every 4-5 days, which they have to fetch using buckets and carrying it into the house.

India at a glance

"S" here, reporting from India for the first time. I've never been here before. It's been quite a feast for the senses, to say the least....the smell of exotic spices/flowers and some not-so-exotic roadside items.....the sound of incessant traffic, car horns, and bellowing street vendors.....the sight of cows, pigs, packs of stray dogs, chickens, beggars, pedestrians, and vehicles sharing bustling streets together in chaotic harmony.....the feel of accepting hugs from family and friends I'd never met before.....the taste of curry, puri, rassam, daal, gulaab jamun, mysore pak, Indian donuts, masala popcorn, chicken tikka, samosa, bhel puri....

Just the tip of the ol' proverbial iceberg....

India...

We arrived in India last night...it was pretty late by the time we got to our parents, but we did have a fitful sleep. There is so much to say between these last couple entries.

[Detour: some of these entries are backdated due to limited access to the internet. We have been keeping track of things that have been going on to update you, but since we won't be online frequently, for clarification purposes, we'll be making loads of entries on one day, with their original date. Hope that makes sense]

It's hard to believe we were in Seattle less than a week ago - feels like centuries. S. will probably be more helpful and descriptive in his entries, since this is all very new to him. I'm home!

Tsunami Relief Supplies Delivered In Nick Of Time

The water in the shower was scalding hot! Yeoowwww! We learned later that the cold water is under repair. Strange....in the 3rd-world countries I've been to, it's usually the hot water that doesn't work, not the cold.

"L" and I took a walk outside. Chipmunks played in the sand near the courtyard....a curious creature to be seen on a Sri Lankan seashore. We strolled along the beach. We picked up many seashells along the way. The beach and water, albeit nice and warm, for the most part was barren of people.

We met Clarissa, a frail, old woman selling colorful wraps. Other beach vendors accosted us as well. We were a bit overwhelmed. We decided to forgo buying to continue our walk on the beach. We did promise Clarissa we'd buy something from her later.

We met five Sri Lankan kids who appeared to be siblings. We talked a little bit and took a picture with them. They didn't speak much English, but one of them asked for money, saying something about the tsunami. Negombo, which is where we were, was pretty much untouched by the tsunami, since it's on the western coast of Sri Lanka.

Clarissa waited patiently by the beachside for us while we played in the ocean. We eventually bought two wraps from her for Rs.1000 SL (US$11).

Clarissa asked if we had any spare T-shirts she could have to wear. I went back into the hotel and pulled out a red, blank T-shirt. I didn't give it to her right away, as I was cleaning myself up, but during that time, Clarissa waited patiently outside our balcony for her T-shirt.

The breakfast and lunch were free. We did end up paying Rs.800 extra for the 4 fruit drinks we didn't know they were charging us for. Still a bargain all around. Anyway, it felt good to spend some money there. Most folks tell us business has dropped off since the Dec. 26 tsunami.

I spent Rs. 80 to call Godfrey from http://www.nceaslanka.com, whom I contacted via email before we left for Asia about donating medicines and supplies for tsunami victims. We'd gotten a few things donated by friends and family back home (if you're one of them and are reading this, NCEASL sends you their gratitude). Godfrey said he would send someone to pick them up. They were in Colombo, which is 30 km (1.5 hours) from Negembo, where we were. I think Godfrey thought we'd be closer to Colombo. Fortunately, they were able to send someone out, altho' it was to take a while. I worried whether they would make it in time before we had to leave the hotel for the airport. Jagath from NCEASL eventually walked through the hotel doors a couple of hours later just as we were checking out. Great timing!

I tried tipping the driver on the way to the airport, but the driver politely refused.

We saw quite a few Muslims at the terminal dressed in white thobes and head scarves. They were all heading to the Middle East. Evidently, the hajj is just around the corner. We stood from a mezzanine to watch many of them going through security checks. Military personnel, possibly American, stood in line with them, only to be taken to another line. We couldn't help but enjoy the irony of seeing American military alongside Muslim pilgrims, given the world-renown tension between what the two groups represent. Later, we were shooed away by an airport staff to stop watching.

We flew from Colombo to Hyderabad. Dad and Mom met us a half hour later. We took a taxi to their home in Kalyan Gardens, while Dad rode a scooter home. We learned later that Dad and Mom almost got into an accident on the way to the airport. I shudder to think if they did.

Sri Lanka

We landed in Colombo today around 12 midnight, traveling from Hong Kong via Bangkok. The flight was smooth. Service on Sri Lankan Airlines was good. The flight attendants all seem to be dressed more scantily than most airline personnel I've seen, but maybe that's because midriffs are standard in South Asia women's wear.

We waited an hour for the bus that would take us to the Blue Oceanic Hotel. Many folks were waiting as well. A group of Marines walked through the terminal with equipment. Two guys sat at a table outside customs registering for http://www.volunteersrilanka.org. It was set up partly by Microsoft, evident by their logo on the banner. Signs directing aid workers for the tsunami disaster were posted everywhere.

Blue Oceanic Hotel is next to the beach. Though we couldn't see it, we could hear it. The hotel staff were quite helpful, as well as the driver, but I was unsure whether to tip. We ended up not tipping.

It is about 1:30 am now. I'm in a pensive mood. I can't help but ponder about being in a country where only two weeks ago, such horrific tragedy befell and from which they still reel from. I can't help but think of the ocean waters just outside my window and the carnage those very waters wrought on the people of Sri Lanka. It is sobering to say the least. I say a prayer for the dead, dying, and living before going to bed.

Bon Voyage

Well, we leave today...next stop Tokyo :) No, it's just a layover, we're landing in Hong Kong...and then it's off to India, via Bangkok and Sri Lanka. (This wasn't planned recently...we'd already bought our tickets weeks ago.) Can't believe next week this time we'll be with my parents and I will be S's tour guide for a change.

We've spent the last week packing like mad, especially the last couple days. S and I took turns sleeping for an hour last night...i'm pretty bushed right now and i'm pretty sure S is too. If we can make it through the next few hours, we hope to sleep well on the plane...but even that is a pretty thin hope.

S's mom and sister and our neices came down to see us off and with the help of a few friends we've been doing pretty well on the "getting things done" bit. A HUGE blessing has been giving to us by a friend who is willing to stay in our apartment...D, you have blessed us, man! Thank you!

Well, that was a fun break...better go get the last minute stuff done...so it doesn't wait until the last minute...

See you on the other side...

...and a Happy New Year

Well, it's 2005...

Seems like Y2K was much farther than just 5 years ago...

We brought in the New Year with friends and watched fireworks at the Space Needle from a distance. It was lovely and very nice with the small mist falling over the city. (It got much colder soon after).

This next week is going to be all about packing...we have less than one week now and we're in the midst of a chaotic flat...

See you all soon...