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.