Sunday, October 29, 2006

Highlight

Many, many of you who have been following the blog say you don't know the outcome of the actual projects. I find this rather odd since it was, to me, the highlight of the trip. I suppose I just got carried away in all the other surreal moments of the trip.

The definite highlight is the fact that we got to get as many projects started as we did. Not only are we repairing the drinking/eating area at St. Helen’s school, but we wrote the check to begin the construction on 5 wells in 3 different villages. Cedric will return to the South in early December to check on the progress, and if all has gone according to plan we will then fund as many of the remaining 15 wells requested as possible. We are hopeful that we will be able to fund them all!

Here is a photo of a well that exists, and another photo of the place where a well will be built this month.

Top 5 Lessons Learned in India

I’ve been back in the states for 10 days, and have, of course, been having tons of conversation with friends and loved ones (and anyone who will listen) about my adventures. I am sometimes surprised to hear what comes out of my mouth when I try and put into words the experiences, lessons and opportunities I experienced while in India. I want to grasp them while they are here, as much of what I say seems fleeting and I am afraid I will loose it. India is already feeling like a distant dream. So here it is, the top 5 things I learned in India:

5. The human spirit is incredibly resilient. With all of the discomfort, pain, lack and poverty that I saw in India, the people remained joyous, loving, open and grateful. I would have thought that the surrounding misery would diminish the human experience, but I was wrong. I am far more adaptable than even I knew. In an environment where NOTHING was familiar I was able to adapt and adjust in ways that surprised even me. This became most clear when I saw the shock on the faces of friends and family as I describe the different situations I experienced. I adapted to changes in language, food, temperature, toilet usage, hand holding, traffic, anger, cows, beggers, bugs, smells, textures, sound, touch, travel partner and physical discomfort. I have said that 3 weeks was about all I could take, but the truth is, I can take whatever is given me. I’ll adapt.

4. We all long for connection. In India, people seem to automatically come in sets of two. Everyone seemed to have a best friend that they held hands with, walked arm in arm with, and were in some sort of physical contact with. I don’t think we were designed to walk through life alone. I think it is a deep human desire to have partnership, relationship, connection and contact.

3. Change is difficult. Regardless of which set of social norms and mores we live under, they are ingrained in such a way that we become comfortable with things just the way they are. It was uncomfortable when nothing was familiar and I was expected to do or experience things differently than my usual way. I think of times in my life when things did not go as expected, when others had their own idea about how things should go, or things turned out differently than I had planned. I think of times of loss or grief and how I can confuse that with change. Sometimes I think I would do anything to make it go back to my way. But, in reference to number 5 my resilience allowed me to adapt to all sorts of unexpected situations, and some of it was very difficult.

2. I have the responsibility of both gratitude and action. I have been of the belief that we create our own reality, everything is a choice, and I am responsible for much of my life situation. I continue to believe this is true, within reason. While it is possible that I have chosen where to be born and who my parents are, that is a philosophical discussion for a later time. I am talking about the day to day choices I make that create and mold my reality. Where I spend my time, how I choose my friends and work, where I live and what is important to me are all things within my control. I have now experienced a world where this is not the case. With the cast system strongly in place, and the prevalence of poverty, the people in India live in the station to which they were born, and this is not a changeable factor for the vast majority. They do not have the same freedoms or opportunities that I have. Many do not have the opportunity for higher education or choices in their work or even the ability to marry for love. There is a system and social order that I cannot fully comprehend, but I do know that it is very different from what I know. It is my obligation and responsibility to appreciate and enjoy the freedoms and opportunities and abundance of my life. I have no time for whining. I want to reach out and help those who do not have the same opportunities-here in Ashland OR in India-wherever I see a need. I know I have been gifted with the ability to advocate for those who have less of a voice, less of an opportunity and less of an option. I cannot “waste” all that I have been gifted with, and I feel a sense of responsibility and obligation to use these gifts wisely and freely. I now know it is why I chose to be born at this time, in this country, with these opportunities – and that is to appreciate and share them.

1. There is a piece of my being that remains unscathed. For years I have believed that there is a core in each of us that goes untouched and undamaged in even the most difficult of circumstances. It is the core that connects us to Source, to God, to Universe, to the One. In the hardest moments, facing the largest challenges, when I was in the greatest fear or discomfort, I found that I could always reconnect and feel the beauty, safety and perfection in each moment. Because I was pushed harder than I am accustomed, because I was out of my element or comfort zone, the return to source felt far more profound and real than it had in the past. I have now experienced that source as real and tangible and solid. I now know that I cannot be far away from source, for I am that source.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

In Closing

Oct. 20, 2006

I have had the opportunity now to re-read my blog, look at the pictures, and sort through some of my thoughts and feelings about the past three weeks. Today I am again awake at 4 a.m., and wondering if this is a schedule that is going to stick.
I am amazed at how much the blog does NOT include, and at the amount of emotions and thoughts that I am still unable to describe or assimilate. Below are a few of my favorite photos. My very own saree, meditating under the Bodi Tree, walking in the Rice Paddies, and of course, “the boys”. Thank you so much for joining me on my journey. Your support, encouragement, comments and love have carried me through the most difficult times, and continually helps to shape who I am. Blessings to you, blessings to your adventures and blessings in finding your bliss!

Friday, October 20, 2006

Back to civilization

Oct. 18, 2006

My trains, planes and automobiles moved along without any problem, and soon I found myself back in the Singapore airport. Walking off the plane into extreme civilization was a very peculiar feeling. Singapore if very developed, and this is said to be the best airport in the world. It has a gym, a pool, massage places, outrageous amounts of food and high end shopping to rival any Southern California mall. It is a model for consumerism and our huge level of consumption. Suddenly, the women in sarees looked out of place, and I knew I looked more than a little road-grubby. I could smell India on my clothing and in my skin between the scents of Chanel, coffee and Swiss Chocolate. It was a very peculiar transitional feeling, and already India seemed like a distant memory (and a partly contrived memory at that). How can both of these worlds exist so closely to one another?

I spent much of the flight home pacing along the back of the plane, and trying to put together the keynote I am returning home to give to a group of women in Big Bear on Friday. How am I going to be able to sum all this up in one hour, and what is the primary message I want to give? Is it about manifesting your dreams? Is it about compassion for others? Is it about humanitarian or peace efforts? Do I want to drive home the point that we in America have more than we ever could imagine in terms of not only material possessions, but opportunity and abundance, and it is our obligation to use it wisely? Do I talk about those who do not have these same opportunities? Do I want to compare and contrast, explain and describe or show and tell? Can I put together a slide show? Would people be interested in that? What the heck am I going to say?????

My flight from Singapore ended up coming into the States directly over the Golden Gate Bridge. I watched the California Coast out the window for the rest of the flight. I was able to spot all of the different areas I know so well…..Carmel, the Red Woods, central California agriculture, Santa Barbara, Malibu. I could see them all, and I knew I was home. I’m ready to be all the way home in Ashland, but this is my State and I am ready to be back. Already, I’m wondering if I’ll ever have the opportunity to visit India again. Already, I am wondering how India has changed me. Already, I am thinking about what is next.

An afternoon in Chennai

Oct. 17, 2006

I now had a 9 hour layover until I would catch my plane to Singapore. Again, I didn’t want to spend that much time sitting in the airport. This airport is very sparse, and it would make for a LONG day. So, I hired a taxi/tour guide to take me to the Oceanside resort of Mamallapuram. My drivers name was Auto, and he had very little English, but was really willing to play with the language barrier until we could figure out how to have conversations. The ride down the coast was unlike anything I had ever seen so far.

This piece of coast is far more developed in a resort kind of way. The beaches were beautiful and the wide open spaces along the shore were breathtaking. Auto showed me where the Tsunami had come, and told me the story of his experience with that life altering event. He had just driven a customer to one of these resort areas that morning, and as he sat at the hotel after dropping him off. Soon he noticed crowds of people running toward him and screaming. He was in a slightly elevated area and was able to look down and see the water rushing toward him. He could not figure out what had happened, and why there was water coming his way. He had never heard of a Tsunami, and stood in shock as the water came very close, but did not touch him. He also talked about how many people died, and how helpless he felt.

As we entered the coastal town of Mamallapuram we were charged an “entrance fee”. We were also charged every time we parked, entrance fees for every rock carving and park, and there were people selling drums, statues and necklaces at every turn. This little town was definitely a tourist spot, and they were hittin’ on me heavy to buy, buy, buy. I resisted until I was a approached by a young girl of 12 or 13 who had badly made necklaces. She was incredibly insistent that I buy, and followed me to my car. She was relentless and I finally caved. The instant I did I was surrounded by 7 or 8 women/girls all selling their own pieces of junk, all with babies, and all looking for a way to feed them. I had to wedge myself into the car as quickly as possible, and tell Auto to drive away.

Indian “Road Trip"

Oct. 17, 2006

Sunday began my travels home. The boys and a taxi picked me up at noon for the 4 hour ride to Patna. Anup has only been to Patna twice before, and Rajesh has never been this far from his Village. They were both excited to join me for the 4 hour drive. I explained the concept of a “Road Trip” and told them we’d have great fun. As it turns out, the taxi that showed up had no air conditioning, and it was a long hot ride.

Along the way I taught the boys a couple car games. One is a game I used to play with my kids when they were very young. Each person in the car “races” to find an object that begins with a letter of the alphabet, beginning with A and traveling to Z. I had to adjust it a bit, as there are few signs along this rural route, but the boys quickly caught on and it was GREAT fun to watch them try and think of how to spell words in English. As it turns out, Anup has the better spoken English, but Rajesh has the better written. They promise to help each other with these skills.

Eventually, both boys fell asleep, and I watched as their heads bobbed and they looked like they hadn’t a care in the world. What was their life going to be like? What does their future hold? Who will they become?

We arrived at the airport to see if we could find me a hotel nearby, but when we asked the airport manager he said, “we have a hotel right here on the premises, all Indian airports do”. OH MY wouldn’t THAT have been convenient information to have had prior to my last night in India!

Later than evening my room phone rang. It was the airport manager and he wanted to know if it would be to much of a bother to join him for a cup of tea. After my initial fears subsided (as I made up stories of being kidnapped and robbed-RIDICULOUS) I agreed. When I arrived in his office he was thrilled to see me. He loves any opportunity to visit with tourists, and wondered if I would tell him a bit about my country. The conversation lasted for hours, and by the end it was as if we had known each other for a long time. We spoke about traffic, castes, educations, marriage, the new piece of property he just purchased to build a home, his rate of pay (he even pulled out his last paycheck stub to show me how much he makes, saves, invests and pays to the government), recreation, food and more. It was my first opportunity to really talk to an educated, middle caste man about things OTHER than the fisherman villages or bottom castes. It is said that India is only one country, but it is filled with many different people. I primarily only have experience with a small amount of those different kinds, and mostly all the lower “backward” casts.

It was interesting to talk with him about the boys. When I had first arrived I came into his office with Anup. The manager was a little suspicious of Anup and asked who he was. I said he was my student. This made Anup acceptable. Later, when the manager and I were talking, he said that he knew both boys were of a lower caste, and that they were also of two different castes themselves. The boys had mentioned to me that they were of a different caste, but neither could really explain to me what that means. When I asked how he could tell, he could not identify why. He just “knew” it to be true. The boys, to me, just look like two average boys. I don’t know how that is identified.

The next morning was the beginning of my big day of travel, and it started off with tea with the Manager. I headed out and 7 hours later landed back in Chennai.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Education in India

The last few days has been filled with discussions about education, English and the future of our boys. School here is very different than school in our developed countries. “Going to school” in India simply means the students are given the requirements of each subject, and then students go buy their own books, and hopefully find (and can afford) a “coach” or “tutor” to help them study, or they study on their own. As students complete their studies for the school year (mostly independent) students pass the grade by taking a final exam. Because the final exam takes a lot of study, the students are not required to actually GO to school for 3-5 months before their exam so they can study independently. (Anup spent this time working in the fields, and did not take his final exam yet) So in the months leading up to their final exams, they do not actually ATTEND class!! CRAZY!

Regular school goes to tenth grade. 11th and 12th grade are considered optional and are called “college”. These two years are intended to prepare students for a 4 year University. (however, these two years have NO math included). These two years of “college” run 11-3:30, with a lunch break, and have LOTS of “holidays”. Currently, the college is closed because they are painting, students go back in a week.

There are two different English institutions here. The best plan is to attend institution at the same time you are going to College to improve your English. India has 1600 different languages, and English is the common one that is needed to get around here, as well as outside the country. It is also the language that is most likely to set these boys up for any sort of success. If you do not have good English, you have absolutely no chance of bettering your station in life. (ps these boys LOVE email, if any of you would like to correspond with them just let me know! It is a great help to their English as well.)

The plan is that the boys will spend the next two years in much more organized and structured education setting than usual, and be well prepared to attend University in Delhi in 2008. Anup will be one year behind the other three. It is a plan fraught with difficulties, cultural distractions and challenges. We have coordinated a good support structure for them with both Siddartha and the tutor, and now it is up to them. I have high hopes that they will continue to break the chain of their casts and improve the world around them as well. I wish I could do more, and, I am hopeful.

A Trying 24 Hours

Oct. 15, 2006

Well, it happened. Damn it.

I have secretly prided myself on the fact that I have not gotten sick during my time here. I have eaten cautiously, taken my anti-bacterials and anti-parasite supplements daily, and stayed away from meat, fruit, raw vegetables and local water of any sort. I’m not sure what thing finally pushed me over the edge……the LONG walk through the rice paddies in the blistering Indian sun-no hat, no water? The market bananas I allowed myself because I was so very hungry? Sheer exhaustion? Overwhelming emotions? I’m not sure, but the last 24 hours have been spent in close proximity to the bathroom (thank god we have a western style toilet here!!!). I’ll save the grizzly details, but suffice to say it wasn’t pretty. (No pictures for this entry) I slept most of yesterday, and this morning I am feeing much, much better. This is really good news, as I START my travels back to the states today. I am, however, disappointed that I missed a day of Bodhgaya, the travels with the Doctor, and time with the boys.

My car and driver will arrive at noon – Anup and Rajesh are joining me for the 4 hour ride to Patna. I am glad they are coming along, Patna is intense and it will be good to have them help me find a hotel and such (and, of course, I enjoy their company). I fly out of Patna Monday morning – so I’ll be there on my own for a night. Cedric will stay here in Bodhgaya for the next few days, finalizing the details on the boys tutoring and schooling that we are coordinating. He is contemplating spending the next month here working with the school and students. He has a tremendous amount to offer them in terms of computer education, budgetary planning, program development, awareness and over all scheduling.

Trying to coordinate the education for these boys has been very frustrating. We met with the tutor last night to set up the schedule for the boys studies. We have learned some interesting things about education in India.

More on Marriage in India

Siddartha talks to me about some of the deep seated problems that continue to hold this country back. He says arranged marriages are one of them. He explains that what these marriage really are is cattle trading. The sons are thought of as cows, and the fathers are anxious to sell them off to the highest bidder. Sons are a financial commodity, not because they will help support the family through their labor, but because the good ones bring a higher price. Anup’s father is currently thinking about selling him. He is only 16.

He says these marriages that do not include love are very painful, especially to the women. The women are kicked around “like a football”, and made to serve the mens every need, and to tolerate all sorts of abuse and behavior from their husbands. This causes a very negative family life, and the pain is just repeated over and over again. Siddartha has announced to his family that he will not be sold into marriage. His father is disappointed as he would bring a very good price, but Siddartha says he’ll get over it.

With all of his talking about the subject, he has not been able to change the minds of his older students. This is a deeply rooted cultural belief that is very difficult to change. He believes this sort of change will come with the very young ones, primarily the orphans that he has the greatest influence on. Anup says the arrangement of the marriage is okay, and he wants his father to choose, but he is going to insist that he get to meet the girl first so that they can “interview” one another to make sure what they want in life is the same. He also says he is still paying off his debt for what he was required to give to his sisters dowry. What he is really hoping for is to become a monk, and then he will not need to marry (although many monks do marry, he says those are “fake” monks, and he will be a “real” monk)

Siddartha a an agent of change. Bless him.

Meeting with Siddartha

When I went to meet with Siddartha he drove me to a remote spot outside the village for some peace and quiet. I explained that I am thinking about sponsoring these boys education, but that I need to know if that is a good thing to do. I do not know the culture, I do not know the realities, and I trust that he knows how best to assist these young people. Initially he is hesitant to “endorse” this plan, as these boys are “clever and will survive”, while there are other students in the orphanage “whos very lives are in jeopardy.” But as I explain my intentions, and the boys dreams, he answers me with this story:

There was once a man who stood before God and asked, “Why is there so much suffering? Why did you need to create heaven and hell? Why is earthly life so much like hell?” And God said, let me show you heaven, and let me show you hell.

As God showed the man hell there was a huge pot of soup in the center of miserable, suffering people. The soup pot held a very long handled spoon. The people sat around the pot in deep, deep pain and misery.

Then God showed the man heaven. Here was the same pot of soup with the same long handled spoon, but the people were dancing and singing and living merrily along.

The man was confused and said to God, “What is the difference? They both have the same pot of soup and long handled spoon, so why is one group so miserable and the other so happy?”

God said, “The people who are in hell continue to try and feed themselves with the long handled spoon, but struggle and cannot reach their own mouths. They are hungry and poor and full of disease. Those who are in heaven have simply learned to feed one another. By feeding each other, by giving to others first, everyone can experience heaven on earth. It is all a choice.”

Siddartha went on to explain that the soup is not just mortal food, but the food of the spirit and soul and heart and people. It is the soup of all things, and those of us who serve are those who live the happiest lives. He could see how much I want to help, and that my motivation is for the betterment of the boys. “In that kind of giving, mama, you cannot go wrong.”

Naranja School and Siddartha, Sujata Village


In the two years since Cedric was last here, the growth and expansion of this school and orphanage is absolutely remarkable. The orphanage has expanded from 8 boys to 67 boys and girls. There are 16 boys right now, the balance of the boys and the girls move in by the end of the month when the new building is completed. The current school has 4 classrooms for 350 children, the new school, that will be occupied by the end of the month, has 4 stories of rooms, including a new dormitory for the boys. Currently, the boys dormitory is a classroom during the day. The students sit on the orphans beds to do their studies. (a “bed” is a wooden platform with a blanket).

Siddartha is the visionary behind this project. He is a young (30 something) Indian man who has a heavy heart for the pain in his country, and mostly for these children. Two years ago the new school and computers and a jeep was a distant dream. Today he has it all. His next greatest challenge will be opening the girls orphanage wing. He explained how boys are easy and can be put anywhere, but the girls that are coming are in much more dire need of services. They have almost entirely experienced numerous rapes, child bearing, still births (induced), beatings and abuse.

Some of the children here are support directly by Siddartha. His pay as school director is very small, and so he is leaving for 3 months to go earn “real money” in Japan so that he can come back and continue his work here. He does not want to leave.

The rooms of the school they are now in are small and cramped. A ten foot square room has 19 students stacked in it. The larger classroom (30x10) has over 50 of the smaller children stacked in side by side. The school runs in shifts to accommodate all the students. The secondary students are 7-9 a.m. the middle age students are 10-1 and the youngest students are 1:15-3:30. The new school will feel like a mansion!

Siddartha asks me to return next year to work with his girls. He also asks if I have any friends or family who would like to come spend time here with the children. Any takers?

Like a Dream

10-14-06

The days here in Bodhgaya and Sujata have passed rapidly. So much to say and share, but we are on the move today so I do not have long to write. We are meeting Siddartha shortly. I am going to join him and the local village doctor as they provide medical services to the street children. I am not sure my heart can take much more, but Siddartha says it will be healing for me. The last two days have been a blur. As Cedric dedicated his time to Guhlan and Ravi, I was “adopted” by two young boys, Anup and Rajesh. I have barely seen Cedric in days, but I know that we are both captivated and in love with “our boys”. The boys here come in sets of 2. Everyone has a best friend that they are inseparable from. “My” two explain their friendship to me, and how invaluable it is. Anup says, “this way, you always have someone to support you, to encourage you, to give you good advice and who wants the best for you.” Anup has the better English of the two (which is still very choppy), but Rajesh tries really hard. Anup wants to be a journalist-monk one day, but his guru told him he must get an education first, as a monk without an education can do no good, and he wants to do good for his people. His father is a farmer, and because the family is very poor his education is often times interrupted with the need to work in the fields. However, the land will probably go to Anup’s older brother, and so Anup would like very much to change career paths. This is not easy to do in India. Rajesh has no father, and he too wants to help his village. He wants to be a teacher, but his family is very poor and there is no money for further education at this point. He is destined to be a rickshaw driver or field hand. They take me to their homes, I get to meet their siblings, extended family, and most importantly their mothers. Both mothers are in strong agreement that the boys best chance is a good education. They both say education comes first. The boys take me around Bodhgaya for two days. There are 110 temples here, and is a mecca for spiritual pilgrims. Bodhgaya is home to the Bodhi Tree where Siddartha gained enlightenment and became Buddha. We spent quite a bit of time under that tree, listening to the monks chant and meditating. This is one of my absolute trip highlights. Because Anup has been studying Buddhism, he is able to tell me all about the differences in the religions, the traditions behind Hinduism and Buddhism, and the symbolism and meanings of the millions of signs, statues, trees and monuments. I think it is no accident that I get paired up with the student who wants to be a monk. In a way, we already talk the same language. I have not purchased many gifts while being in India. Most everything is just crap and I don’t feel motivated to carry any of it. But the gifts here are different. There are beautiful carvings and silks and things. The boys offer to take me to market, but first make me agree that I will only point out what I want and then walk away and let them deal with the pricing. “Otherwise”, they say, “you will be very cheated.” (Sundar did the same thing for me in Kanyikumari). At the end of our shopping spree Anup insists on giving me a written receipt for each item so that I know exactly how much I gave them and how much they spent. I am out of space in my bag, but I sure would like to shop some more! There are a few items they deem too expensive, I’ll have to go back there myself today and pay the price. I mean really, $25 bucks is not too much to me! One of the sites we visited was the cave where Siddartha, before becoming Buddha, sat for 6 years without eating. The boys were excited to take me there and said it wasn’t very far. They also felt compelled to warn me about the beggars that would be along the path. There are beggars at the entrances to all the holy sites. The boys said it is very difficult to see, and that I must be sure to not give to these beggars as that only makes matters worse. I was hesitant, and unsure I could take much more of that sort of view, but I did want to explore outside of the little village, so we went early in the morning before it got hot. It turned out to be a 45 minute autorickshaw ride over narrow, bumpy, dusty, rural roads. At one point I laughed outloud to myself – observing where I am and what I’m doing. I mean, OH MY GAWD, I am in the middle of Rural India with two young boys I do not really know, no one knows where I am and home is far, far away. I don’t think I could call Kayla for a ride home. When we arrived it was quite a hike up a huge hill. The sidewalk was lined with beggars with all sorts of ailments. Many of them were girls the age of 12 or 13 with babies of their own. There were open wounds and leprosy and blindness and crippled people everywhere. They all greeted me with Namasta and Hello, but when I did not give to them I could feel their curses and hear their spitting behind me. Once we reached the cave, there were many people praying and meditating and a small class was being taught in what I think was Tibetan. Once again, India shows me he most startling of contrasts. I was overwhelmed. The boys are continually showing concern for me. I don’t know what I looked like, but they kept checking, “you okay mama?”.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

The Difference Dinner Makes

10-11-06

After settling into our room, and gaining my composure, we head out for dinner. Awhile back, Lonely Planet recommended “The Pole” restaurant to travelers. There are now 5 Pole restaurants, and each says THEY are the recommended restaurant. We ate at “the original pole” restaurant – whatever THAT means.

I am already surprised at the different feel of this village. Here we are greeted with “Namaste”, and there is a friendly feeling in the air again. The young man who helped us with our luggage was very excited to see us, and was hesitant to take the tip. He just wanted to visit. His name sounds something like Sandwich.

After dinner, I asked to walk to the bridge to see the water. The sunset was nice and it felt good to breathe again, but it was getting dark. Cedric continued across the bridge. On the other side is the village where his friends live, but we were not planning on going there until tomorrow. As we walk we are approached by a young boy on a bike, Pernod, who asks our names and where we are from – already it is feeling very different here than it has. As our conversation with him continues Cedric asks if he knows Ghulan (said Julian) and Ravi, and he does! He says they are his friends, he says he can take us to them. Soon we are also approached by two younger boys, who say they live next door to Ghulan and they will also take us there. It is dark now, and we are on a rural village road with children all around, talking to us in their broken English. I am getting a little frightened, but there is no going back. We enter into the village Sugata, people are cooking dinner on the side walks, and we are greeted at every turn. Soon, we are into the alleys and streets of the village, a rat scurries across my feet and my scream startles the boys around me. There is much laughter. We walk on.

This has been a walk with no motorized vehicles around, and soon a car approaches. As the car passes the man yells out the window, “Brother Cedric? Is that you?”. This is the man that inspired Cedric to come here, the man who runs the orphanage, the man who wants to build a better school. This man is Siddartha.

Siddartha is thrilled to see Cedric, and very welcoming to me. He says we have arrived at exactly the right time as they are celebrating the opening of the new school building and that there is a big party for us to come to. Soon we meet up with the boys who are good friends with Cedric, they are so excited to see him. They call him Brother, and reminisce about the wonderful times they had when Cedric was here before. They want to show us the school, and they are very polite and concerned for my safety. They constantly hold my hand and say, “come please” as they lead me around the school. They call me Mama.

We are treated like honored guests. They have much to tell us about their growth and success over the past two years. They want us to see it all. It is a 4 story school, with running water and toilet facilities and a small computer lab. The boys who are friends with Cedric have graduated from this school, and are now attending college. Ghulan says he is in college because of Cedric.

It is very, very dark now, and with the very, very dark faces of the boys it is difficult to distinguish one from the other. But there is one with a red baseball cap who stays close to me. He is sure I get everywhere safely. He wants me to see the orphanage, and to meet the orphans. There are 16. When we arrive, they are on the open patio outside their dorm, washing up for the night. They range from 6-12 years old. There are approximately 16. They are very excited to meet us, and each shakes our hand, asks us our name, tells us theirs, and asks where we are from. I want to stay here. This is why I have come.

My oh my, the difference a dinner makes.

Tonight, I sleep like a rock.

Meltdown Moment

10-11-06

We are in Patna. We traveled all day yesterday from the South. It was a long a difficult day of travel, and I am exhausted. We arrive late, and get the last cab at the airport to take us to the hotel we requested. Lonely planet says this is a fine city in the day, but do not be out after 8 pm. We arrive at the hotel, and the front entranced has a locked cage over it, and we are asked to enter through the side. The driver spends the whole ride telling us how bad the train is to Bodgaya, and that we should hire him instead. It is 10 p.m. and stiflingly hot. The hotel lobby is FILLED with bugs, and a beat up, rag taggy butterfly that looks, to me, like India. Broken, bruised, torn, dirty and barely able to fly.

After the usual arguing with the reception guy and bag boys we arrive in the room. I look into the bathroom and a gecko scurries up the wall-I let out a bit of a yell. I have been feeling sniffy and snuffly all day, and now I’m feeling congested and miserable. I have not really eaten (only snacks) and I am shakey. We have traveled too far for such a short visit and I am feeling the lack of thoughtful planning in a resentful way, although there is no one to blame. I feel hot tears in my eyes, I am miserable, and there are bugs in my bed. I shower and climb into bed wet and naked to try and reduce my body temperature. The fan is broken, and makes a loud hummmm. I put in ear plugs and try to escape.

My sleep is choppy, I do not dream. I am still hungry.

We were told there is a train at 10 in the morning to Gaya. I wake at 8:10 and think we’ll never make it given our normal routine in the mornings. I am painfully hungry and shakey. I wake up Ced and he says the alarm is set for 8:30. Alright….I decide to shower. Ced goes to the bathroom, and I hear the shower come on – okay, so I’ll eat! Room service is not terribly priced, and if I do not eat I fear I will not be able to carry my own bag. I am still hot and shakey and cannot seem to catch my breath, the air is too hot and heavy to breathe. I ask Ced if he wants room service breakfast, he says no. I order eggs. They arrive while I am in the shower, and Ced is visibly agitated (I think about my ordering breakfast). He decides he needs to work on the budget, so he gets out the computer. I am worried about making the 10:00 train that we are not sure exists. Ced does a good job leading, but he does not communicate to me what we are doing, or what he is thinking. We are offered a taxi, but we say no and walk outside. He gets two bike rickshaws to take us to the train station. The ride is like something from a movie. Broken down rickshaw with skinny, muscular drivers, over dirt roads, congested, alongside cars and autorickshaws. There are cows and tractors and bikes hauling huge loads and people with packages on their heads. It is a surreal moment. Cedrics rickshaw passes mine, and he is in front now. We arrive at the train station and load on our very heavy packs. Mine is 40+ pounds. We run from window to window to find our correct tickets. The terminal is full of people sleeping in piles here and there, many of these children and old people clearly live on their small piece of burlap in this terminal. In Delhi, I saw children who looked to have been intentionally burned (severely) in order to better beg money. Now there are people in all variety of ailments lieing throughout the terminal. It looks like a trauma ward from MASH. It is heavy and hot, and we are POURING sweat. It is dripping off my nose, chin and ears. My bags feel heavier and heavier, at every turn we are approached with offers of taxis or help or information or something that they want us to pay for. We are rushed, but I do not know why. The ticket counter told us the train was at 10:30, it is only 9:30, but Cedric is very hurried. I am chasing along as fast as I can. There are children everywhere, these are not the happy smiling faces of the village children, these are hungry desperate faces. We have been told to not give to the beggars, as it encourages them to continue begging instead of working. An old man grabs at the hem of my pants, I feel as though I must walk on past as if he were not there. And then a young boy, about 12, crawls up to me. He is crippled and carries his useless right leg over his right shoulder, he moves like a worm on the ground, pushing a tin can in front of him with each inch worm movement. He can move rapidly, and I cannot get away from him. He continues to push the tin in front of me and say something I cannot understand verbally, but can clearly understand energetically. With each worm movement he makes, he also makes a loud slap on the concrete with his hands. I consider giving him money, but my hands are full, I am physically pushed to my max, and my wallet is far away. If I stop to get money, I realize I will actually have to look at him, and that is more than I can do. I feel tears begin to come, but I am loosing Cedric in the crowd and must continue. The boy grabs the hem of my pants, and I must pull away to continue. I cannot look, I cannot look, I cannot look. As I get out of his reach, I continue to hear the slapping on the concrete and the plea in his voice as he chases after me. As I catch up with Cedric he is turning around and mumbling under his breath as he pulls out our “common wallet”. He goes back to the boy on the ground, and drops rupees in the tin.

As I follow Cedric into the air conditioned restaurant that was our destination, I can no longer stop the tears. This human condition is not something I can understand or assimilate into my experience of the world. How can there be this much suffering. I am struck with the idea of Karma, and that it may have been a construct to simply allow the human psyche to accept this sort of pain and misery.

The people in the south were very curious about us, and wanted to engage in conversation in any way possible. These people are not curious, they are aggressive. They do not smile at me with warm, welcoming, wondering smiles. They look at me with lust and dominance and jealousy. I have been told again and again, the south is very different from the north. I am learning that for myself.

As we sit in the restaurant I cannot stop crying, I am feeling the hysterical kind of sobbing coming on, but this does not feel like a safe place to do that – so I fight to stop it. It is the first time I want to go home. So I decide to call Eddie, and see if I can get a taste of home. Cedric reminds me that I do not want to walk among the crowds looking scared and vulnerable – that would be dangerous. I should not go to the phone until I am more controlled. The idea of talking to Eddie helps me stop the tears and gain composure. Ced stays with the luggage and I go to the phone. I am standing at a counter with a regular desk style phone, surrounded by people also wanting to use the phone, and the foot traffic of those in the terminal behind me. As soon as I hear Eddies voice I begin to sob again. I cannot breathe. I want to go home. Eddie talks me down in a very short period of time, and I’m feeling a little stronger and a little more able to continue.

The train ride is long and miserable and crowded (although we have bought “upgraded” seats). I spend the first part of the trip standing on the platform outside our train car at the open door, watching India pass before me. Eventually, it becomes farm land and green and picturesque. But I am too tired and scared and uncomfortable to appreciate much. There are men standing around me talking about me. I do not know what they are saying, but I am compelled to go sit in my seat instead.

I spend the next couple hours calming myself down by listening to my Ecstatic Dance music. I am able to travel through the 5 rhythms, and relate my trip to those rhythms. I dance in my head, I see my friends and family, I run stories of them over and over and over in my very vivid imagination. I watch re-runs in my head of things that have happened in the past, and write the scripts of how things may be in the future. I am surprised when Ced taps my shoulder to tell me we have arrived.

Arrival in Gaya is surreal, we find an autorickshaw to drive us to Bodhgaya. The ride is long and bumpy and mostly dirt roads. The surroundings are becoming more beautiful and rural. We are entering sacred territory, this is where the Buddha found enlightenment under the Bodi tree. I am wondering if I will find some too.

I want to go home.

Day Alone in Delhi

10-10-06

Today we have a 7 hour lay over in Delhi airport, and I can’t sit here. I checked around, and hired a tour guide to take me to as many scenic places as possible. Here are a few of my day alone……..





Leaving Nagracoil

10-9-06

We have completed all of our Kanykumari business for now. We have given the check to the men of AWED for the well projects, we have bid farewell to our Kadiapattinam friends, and we have decided to go North. Cedric will return in early December to check on the progress of the projects and potentially move into phase 2 projects. We have bought a very nice dowrey gift for Sundar, but need to find a way to give it to him without the others knowing. It is clear that this gift would cause quite a bit of jealousy.

We need to take a bus to Trivandrum, and so we ask Sundar if he will help us with that. He is happy to join us for the rickshaw ride to the bus station. When we arrive at the station, the bus is just about ready to leave, so we are hurried to get on. I do not get but a moment to hand him the gift and thank him for all he has done. It feels like a painfully short way to say goodbye to such a dear friend. I get on the bus and wedge myself in between our luggage and the open window. Cedric is still saying goodbye to Sundar. As we pull away, I lean out the window in hopes of seeing him, and he quickly comes around the back of the bus to wave goodbye. He waves, and waves, and waves until I am out of sight. Just as we turn the corner, he throws me a kiss. Goodbye my friend!

My Singing Waiter


10-9-06
Ramons is one of the waiters (I have learned that Sundar is not a waiter, he is “Captain”). Ramons is usually crabby in the mornings, and funny in the evenings. He is older, balding and has a mouth full of rotten teeth. He says he is a fisherman who does not know how to fish, and who vomits if the sea is rough. I have come to learn that “fisherman” is as much an ethnicity here as it is a profession.

This morning he tells me he spent yesterday recording. When I don’t understand what he is saying he begins to sing to me. Now, I have spent the morning listening to him sing to me. He too is disturbed that I am not married, although I have come to learn that his wife kicked him out long ago. He now sings everytime he brings me food or drink, unless Cedric is here.

An Afternoon at Church

10-9-06

Jesu and some of the Kadiapattinam friends showed up at our hotel yesterday looking for us. The boys who danced for us earlier in the week were performing in the Church Catechism Celebration. They said we needed to be there at 2:00. When we arrived, our group was in a back room frantically putting on their costumes and make up. It was a scene I have experienced a million times before. Teachers frantically trying to get the students ready, and students excited and nervous about their performance. The costumes were beautiful, and the boys in them were radiant.

The relationship between boys and girls here is very different. The boys hold hands and walk arm in arm and sit on each others laps as best friends in an easy and natural way. Ways that American boys would never touch one another. And while American girls will hold hands in some cases, the girls here stay in physical contact with one another in a very intimate and sweet way. When I suggested that in America this is very different, and that kind of hand holding and snuggling would only be between boys and girls they were mortified. Even married couples show no public signs of affection here. The women walk together, and the men walk together. Rarely have I seen couples together.

But back to the church program…….I arrived at 2:00, and our group of friends did not perform until 5:20. That is the longest I have sat in a church event in years! Between each performance was preaching from nuns and priests. The room was PACKED (well over 500 people) and stuffy. But no one seemed to notice, and few left early. Ultimately, I had to stand out on the walkway (the hall was on the second floor). I got to watch bus loads of people come and go. Children lined up to visit with me, as did the younger adults. I was hot and wanted an ice cream. So when the ice cream cart showed up down below, I asked a young boy if he would run down to get me and ice cream, and get one for himself too. I had to ask over and over before a young girl was brave enough to take my money. She brought me my ice cream, but did not have one for herself, she implied that would be wrong.

Marriage in India

10-8-06

Our friend Jesu announced yesterday that his “marriage has been arranged”. The families had their meeting on Saturday, and the date has been set for November 27. He is quite happy about the arrangement. He says it is important to be married. It does seem like a good match as she is a teacher in Nagracoil and the families are compatible. He says this is a much better way, as the pressure of trying to marry for love is far more than he can take. “Love will come later” he tells me. He has begged me to return for the wedding. He thinks I am rich and can easily afford to come back.

The girls here definitely do not understand why I am not married, and why I am in no particular hurry to get married. I was unable to communicate that there is always the possibility I will never marry again. That was more than they could comprehend.

Yesterday Sundar got very serious and asked if he could talk to me about a difficult subject. And although this is not a subject he should discuss, his heart is heavy with it. He wanted me to promise that I would go home and get married. Having a boyfriend is “no good, not enough, you must be married”. Otherwise, he says, I will sit at home and do nothing, and be alone, and be wasted and “there will be no one to fetch you water in the night, or tie on your gown after your bath when you are old.” He was quite sincere in his plea, he is worried about my well being. He says it is bad that I sit here at night and eat alone and write in my book. When I told him that if I were married, if I did not eat alone, I would not have the opportunity to meet him or my other Indian friends. He said that would be a good thing, because I would have a husband.

He is responsible to get his sisters married, as his father has passed. It is quite a pressure for him. He must build 2 good dowreys to get 2 good arrangements. Wives are only as good as their fortunes. I tried to explain I have no fortune, so I would be a bad deal – but he could not understand that at all. I guess my car might make me a LITTLE valuable (?)

Monday, October 09, 2006

Sunrise over the Ocean


I have been waking every morning around 4 a.m. I don’t know why I just do. I mentioned this to Sundar and he suggested a sunrise viewing in Kanyakumari. So this morning we met at 4:45 a.m. to catch the bus for the 45 minute trip to the very southern most tip of India. On this tip is a large Temple built to honor Gandhi, and off the tip are two LARGE rocks, one with a statue Thearuvallur, (sort of an Indian version of the Statue of Liberty) and one with another large temple, Vivekanda. The sun rises directly behind this temple and statue. In the Hindu tradition it is a great thing to watch the sunrise, as the sun is a god and to see the sunrise is to know that life is full and great. Hindus do not watch the sunset, it is a bad omen of sorts. We arrive

d well before sunrise, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Slowly, we watched as the clouds became illuminated and pink and gold and blue and the beautiful bright sun, with perfectly placed clouds, began to rise behind the temple. The shore line was packed with hundreds of people, all in prayer, as the sky became brighter and brighter. Watching the sunrise is also a romantic event, like an American sunset. There were young married couples, old men in prayer, young children, a group of college students from the North and everything inbetween, all here to share in this sacred experience of Sunrise in Kanyakumari.

The horizon is dotted with hundreds of fishing boats, and as I look across this great expanse Sundar explains that I am looking where three oceans converge

. I am looking at the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal. I will bring home the differing sands of each.

As the sun peeked over the horizon the crowd cheered and clapped and thanked god for another beautiful day, and as I clapped along I thought “now THIS is gratitude. I think the next time I see a beautiful sight in nature, I too shall applaud.

Kiss from An Angel

Oct. 8, 2006

Right on schedule, I woke at 4:20 this morning. I tried hard to ignore it and go back to sleep, but to no avail. Yesterday was a long, long exhausting day and by the time we returned to the hotel I literally fell into bed and was OUT.

Today should be a little more relaxed, although I anticipate we may go to Kadiapattinam. We were supposed to give a computer class there yesterday afternoon, but touring the villages took much longer than anticipated. Yesterday started off running off schedule, and I could see early on we had far too much planned in one day in an area like this. So, the class did not happen and I have a feeling it may get rescheduled to today. Tomorrow will be spent handling the financials with AWED, and we are hoping to go North on Tuesday. Actually, Cedric is hoping to go North. I would be very content to spend the rest of our time here, watching the projects begin and touring around with Sundar. But I am torn, I do want to see the orphanage in Bodgaya as well, so either way I’m happy.

Yesterday in one of the villages as we were followed by the children, there was an especially tenacious little girl who stayed close for quite awhile. She shyly started to hold my hand and stand very close to me at each place we visited. Everytime she would run away, she would show back up on the trail in front of us, or suddenly be holding my hand again. We played with words as usual, and she laughed each time I spoke one of my 4 words of Tamil, and each time we would start to leave her area she would say “bye, bye” and then follow us a little further. Ultimately, we reached the road and began walking away. After a bit of walking I turned around for one last look, and she was trailing behind watching us leave. Suddenly she stopped, crouched down, and threw me a kiss before running back to her small piece of neighborhood. I was surprised to see her do such a “Western” sort of motion, and once again I am reminded love looks the same in any language.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Feels Like Christmas

Oct. 7, 2006

Yesterday was spent with the men from AWED, Father Nitya and Mister Vincent. We drove across the Southern tip of India (1 ½ hours @ 50 mph at best) to the outlying villages of Michaelnagar (43 families) and Georgenagar (72 families). These are very small, underserved villages of the lowest cast. We were, as usual, greeted first by the children, followed by their parents, all enjoying having us take pictures and laughing. Very few of these villagers knew the traditional sentences of “what is your name?”, “how are you?”. This village was different.

Both groups of villagers were anxious to sit with us and explain (thru Father Nitya) all about their villages, problems, children and needs. They are all in extreme need. The ability to choose which projects and which villages is very difficult. The very idea that choosing for one denies another is hard for me. I was totally overwhelmed by the time we reached the second village on foot across the hot, windy shore. I sat with the villagers for awhile, but soon needed to excuse myself to sit on the shore. I was followed by two little girls, and soon had a flock of children around me. Once I tired of taking picture after picture, and teaching them to hold the camera, I was at a loss as they sat with expectant faces for me to do something……anything would do. So we sang songs. They LOVED “I’m a little teapot”, with all the hand motions and inflections. They could repeat each phrase perfectly, although they sang “I’m a little tea pot short and stout” as if it was one word. And then came the “Tamil/English tutoring”. The naming of all the different body parts in both English and Tamil. My attempts at Tamil continues to be the cause if much laughter!

As we traveled from place to place, Father Nitya would give us the history and facts about the plants, the people, the animals, the homes, the situations. We met with many different groups and Fathers and engineers. They have brought us a list of 19 potential water/sanitation projects from which we can choose. It is a difficult choice. We cannot do them all, but I trust that if we just follow our instincts it will be chosen exactly as it should be.

This morning, we have decided how many projects we can begin with, and we will visit some of the villages where the projects will take place. We have decided to ask Father Nitya to prioritize which villages are served first. Still, I hate saying no to any of them. I started to calculate in my head how long it would take me to save and give them ALL the sanitation services they need…..but then they would need the education to go along with that…..and then they would need…….and then they would need……and then they would need………

Cedric has just left to exchange the projects travelers checks so that we can give the cash to Father Nitya and Father Gino. It feels like Christmas morning to me. I have that same butterfly effect in my tummy, and the lightheaded feeling of joy. This is a beautiful day, and I am blessed.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Projects Begin


Thursday, Oct. 5, 2006

I am back at my hotel restaurant, with Sundar bringing me tea. So much has happened I don’t know where to begin-and I am exhausted.

I notice that the physical discomforts we are experiencing seem unimportant and not-to-bothersome in comparison to other difficulties. I’ve become accustomed to shaking out my towel before using it to make sure there are no cockroaches, and the critters that gather in the corners of the shower don’t seem to bother me. I am even used to the ways of driving in this country, I cannot even begin to describe that! We are, however, running low on toilet paper, and that I’m going to need to figure out!!!

The last two days have been filled with meetings and visiting the villages along the coast and trying to understand this very, very different world. Currently, we are considering three different projects, and yesterday we decided on our first two, and one begins construction TODAY!!!

When we first arrived in Kadiapattinam, we immediately saw the place that the well was to be built…..and there stood a pump. The good news is, the well has been built and the people have access to water. The pump says “AWED” in it, and so we decided to meet with these people, and see how we could continue assistance in water projects. After an afternoon of shopping with our Kadiapattinam friends, they picked us up at the hotel at 6:00 p.m. and drove us 45 minutes to their town. It was the most BEAUTIFUL sunset trip, with elephants along the side the road, mists on the rocky mountains and colors too brilliant to describe. We spent the evening talking about the conditions of the villages most heavily affected by the Tsunami, and the projects that are now under way. It turns out that AWED stands for Association of Womens Education and Development.

Cedric and I have been committed from the beginning to not give any services or assistance that WE think they should have, but to allow them to tell us what they need, and then decide if we can help. The well in Kadiapattiam had been a request from Father Gino, and he certainly wanted it bad enough – he made it happen. One of the things we have learned from Father is that these villages and the fisherman in them are the bottom of the bottom of the caste system. In the past, these villages and people “fell off the map” for any sorts of government assistance or involvement. In fact, so much so that they have very little government involvement at all, and so they are entirely run by the Catholic church. In a strange sort of way, the tsunami has been a tremendous blessing to them. It has gotten them services they would not have had, it is improving their opportunities and quality of life, and it is bringing education and awareness to an outcasted piece of their society. This is NOT my American version of what is happening here, it is the interpretation of Father Gino and others.

These coastal villages are 100% Christian, and their primary governing person is the Father of the parish. As Father Gino took us around to show us the achievements since the tsunami, and the people of the area, everywhere we went he was approached about everything from leaking roofs to arguments between neighbors to trouble with water. His days are filled with taking care of the needs of his parish. He moved to his new parish of Enayem just four months ago. He explained one of their greatest challenges is sanitation – both human waste and solid waste (crap AND trash). The men use the beaches and rock retaining walls as their toilet, and the women use the bush, and anything and everything inbetween. People like Father Gino and AWED are dedicated to “a toilet in every house” (these are sort of like an outhouse style toilet), and “sanitation education” in the schools – teaching children to wash their hands. They say that the children are “agents of change”, and can then educate their families.

As we approached a piece of coast that has been supported with huge boulders as a sea retaining wall to protect the village of Enayem, the scent of the ocean mist was overpowered by the scent of a bad porta pottie (the kind found at day 4 of a rock concert). The sea mist smelled of crap, and the foam around the rocks was yellow and foamy, unlike any sea foam I had ever seen. All along the coast looked like a garbage dump, with crows everywhere and incredible amounts of trash. The poorest of the poor live closest to the water. I could not help but marvel at the differing values of “ocean front property”.

As we toured the villages, Father Gino took us to his parish school, St. Helen’s. It is for ages 6-15. As we toured we were shown their water fountain where the children both wash and drink. It was in a HORRIBLE state of disrepair, with only 2 of the 12 spickets working, broken tiles, pipes, flooded swamp area and overgrown with moss and worms. As we were taking pictures of the area children were released onto their recess, and hundreds of children swarmed the two working spickets (and US!). Immediately, Cedric and I knew we wanted to fix this area. These children needed better access to water, and we knew we could do something about it. We met with the Dean, who then contacted a contractor, and by the afternoon we were sitting in a budget meeting discussing what could be done. Our tour also showed that their kitchen facilities were in a terrible state of disrepair, as are their pre-school classrooms. So, we asked the contractor for a budget to fix it all………a short while later we were shaking hands and handing them their first installment of rupees and the project begins TODAY!. Father Gino says we will see the first stage of improvements before we leave Nagracoil.

The intricacies of the politics here, of the corruption and blame and lack and need and struggles are more than I can explain or understand. This is a culture and society that is incomprehensible to the average American (or at least this one). Not only did I not know this existed, there is no way for me to begin to understand what is really going on here.

Last night, we returned to Kadiapattinam to attend the after school “tuition” program (tutor), and to have dinner with the teachers. They are a unique group of young people. We were joined by Father Edwin, who is young, good looking, healthy, strong, smart and well educated in the ways of society outside of India. He gently reminded the teachers to speak only Engish, so that their guests could understand, and explained all of the intricacies and traditions of dining together. He silently bought us all ice cream (but I knew this was a huge treat). And as we all sat on the floor in a large circle, sitting Indian Style (as they insisted we call it), and as our language barriers caused some struggle, I was struck with the idea of playing a game…….and I decided to attempt “nut, nut”, no English required. (for those of you who are NOT Youth to Youthers, I’ll explain later). Suffice to say, it is a ridiculous rhythm game and it was a huge hit. One of the teachers, Flius, wanted to do it over and over and over again. I then asked them for an Indian game and Father Edwin led us through a name game that is very much like Big Bootie! Suddenly, the world didn’t seem so large after all. However, playing a name game with names such as Flius, Femi, Listern, and Dissi wasn’t quite as easy as usual. Father Edwin says this is a quite unusual group of young people for India, and young men and women do not usually socialize together, much less be such good friends. He says they act “as if they are lovers, but they are not”. What I saw was incredible camaraderie.

During the evening I wanted to take a walk, so Jesu took me on a tour of the village. We talked about lots of things, and mostly his desire to better himself. He explained how difficult that is here, when all of his world experience is just this village, and his college in the nearby town of Nagracoil. He said he failed an interview recently because his English is too slow and poor, and that without English you can never advance in India because even to communicate with other parts of this country you need English, as English is the only common language. He was telling me how very grateful he is for this time with Cedric and I to practice not only speaking quicker, but more importantly comprehending quicker. He said he knows we are talking much slower than we would at home, and he wants to be able to speak as quickly as I would with my friends. (I didn’t tell him that my pace of talking isn’t exactly normal).

As we were walking through the small alleys of the village, people came out to talk to us. Suddenly, Jesu kicked off his shoes and entered into a house – he obviously expected me to follow. It was the home of Pepe, one of his secondary students who had spent the previous evening with us. I was immediately escorted into a back room to meet his aunt, who had polio as a child, and has not walked since she was a young girl. She lives on a cushion on the floor. Plastic chairs were immediately unstacked, someone fetched a fan to place directly on me (someone must have said I was hot), and I was handed some sort of food. (NEVER have I been fed so much – more about that later). The conversation became based on me wanting to learn Tamil – and so they began to teach me words. We laughed and laughed and laughed. We found quite a bit of entertainment in my mispronunciations of their words. They seem astonished that I will even try.

The evening culminated with our Project #2. After much discussion and preparation, we have decided to give this group of teachers one of our laptops. (again, because they say it is something that will enhance their quality of life). Cedric has set it up with Windows and internet, Jesu is researching getting internet to the village (it is already there in a limited fashion). Saturday, Cedric will give a computer class to this group of young teachers (although three of them are already in computer studies), and we are hopeful that we will all stay in contact as we continue to find ways to support this beautiful village on the sea.

Today is Thursday. We are both exhausted, and more than a bit crabby. Cedric is meeting with both Father Gino and Jesu this afternoon. I need a break (So does Ced). It is an interesting challenge to try and retreat or quiet down here. There is no place to go for relief. Regardless, there is constant input and noise and smell and heat and some sort of pressure, and of course the language barrier makes everything more difficult. Nothing is normal. Cedric is also at his threshold, and I am challenged to not take his struggles on as my own or as something I need to repair or change or challenge in some way. My own threshold is plenty for me to negotiate at the moment.