Teaching the students Waddily-Atcha

Student at the Free School in Siliguri (near the LTC)

Free School Students
Rickshaws

My roomate

Brushing teeth in the river behind the LTC

Throwing Kali pujas into the Ganges as part of the Diwali festival

India. I don't know how to describe it. In a small e-mail I said it was everything I hoped it would be yet nothing I imagined. I know it is hard to read about missions trips because so much of the depth is inside the missionary and their experience with the LORD. All I can say is a clear view of the Himalayas and River, Sioux and Curley eating dog, ON PURPOSE! This was not considered cruelty, oh no. In fact, it was explained to us by our hostess/chef, that this particular meat had been handfed and bread for such a time as this. Although this is no close substitute for monkey brains, which was one River’s hopes, we agreed it was near enough. Aside from the unique cuisine, India held a charm which romanced me. Actually I should be more specific: rural Imphal, Siliguri and Nepal were the places which God used to capture my heart. The first impression of India made me want to run. Bear in mind that this is in contrast to Singapore, the previous port of travel where you are arrested for chewing gum. Calcutta or Kolkata, was warm and humid, crowded and noisy, lost and crying out. I didn't notice the despair until we had a layover there and walked about the street. Trudging along the side of the Ganges, we literally crossed paths with devout Hindis dancing down the steps to the river bank, with their kali puja in hand. They rejoice toward this manmade shrine and worship it as they spin it around for all to see then cast it down the Ganges. It doesn't matter that the idol will sink not a mile down tide. I think it is out of fear, confusion and loss. From Kolkata, the first stop was training and a camp in Imphal. The classes were culturally unique although I can now say I have been to staff training week 7 years and internationally. The reaction differed from that of an unsuspecting first-year counselor who laughs at all the stories. All of the Indian counselors were school staff and half of those were Hindi. It is not common to approach people for conversation or answer an instructor back in India. So on top of the fact that we were not getting the usual roar of laughter, if we asked a question to the class, no one answered. This threw me for a curve ball and I was afraid that God placed me there for the Hindi women specifically. "But God, you are placing me in charge of crafts and nurse. How can I relate to these women who won't even talk to me?" The camp was held strictly for students of the Grace Academy and several of the 140 children came to a salvation or a reassurance of their salvation. My spot in the program seemed like it wasn't going to let me relate to the children or the staff. Cringing and cleaning 2 bloody head wounds was direct, but oh boy was I unwilling. I was encouraged by my team to approach the women, show them you want to build a relationship; so I did. I got one word answers, even to deep questions. I was surprised when the girls came up on the last day to take a picture with me. One by one they lined up to stand on a bench and snap the photo. Did I mention Indians are not tall people? Later on, Arun told us that 4 of the Hindi counselors gave their life to Christ due to Curley's salvation talk. After Imphal we headed to national airports and through SEVERAL security check points (none of us more than Sioux), we arrived in Siliguri for a day of training the Leadership Training Center (LTC) students then off to Nepal for 3 days of camp in the jungle. Now by jungle I mean small dirt roads surrounded by tall trees and wildlife of course, but acres of rice fields as well. Nepal for me is what most people call culture shock. I would describe it more poetically along the lines of a total mental meltdown. I was lead to my "craft room" located on the roof of the children's sleeping quarters. Now when I say room, I am being generous, there was nothing but a cement floor and tarps strung up to help us ignore the blazing sunlight. No rails at the side or control for the flow of traffic via steps. I had a bit to prepare for the kids, but not tables or chairs, definitely not organized and to me, not possible. The children's curiosity got the better of them and several neighborhood kids decided I needed company while unpacking clue bottles. By company, I mean a crowd staring at me and watching every move I made. Then the flood came, children everywhere, from 3 -14 years old and no translator, did I mention I don't speak Nepali?? River came up at the beginning of the session and later described me as "on the verge of going insane." I thought it was going to be impossible, no order, no communication and no tables! Things settled down, of course (Thank you LORD), and all the kids did get to make crafts. The interesting part of this camp was the crowd of Hindi parents standing in the back during the salvation talk and dragging their kids back home afterward. They strongly disagreed, but the children came back and we had a parent meeting. It was another salvation talk in front of both children and adults in which the parents were given the opportunity to speak to the pastor afterward, and 5 did. About 120 out of 200 kids accepted the LORD from this camp. The most rewarding part, however, is my clumsy attempt to start a conversation with some Hindi women around my age, helped them warm up to Christianity and not fear their family's reaction. So while I didn't eat dog, I did have a bite of some King chili salsa (suitably named for its position on the spicy ladder) in that little Nepali kitchen, lack of privacy and all. The funny part was returning to Siliguri after Nepal. I felt like I was driving home after a long trip and couldn't wait to take that cold bucket shower, eat ANOTHER (totaling to around 10 tons!) scoop of rice and walking across the cement floor to my bed. God provided me with another perspective on these things after Nepal. How blessed was I to be among believer's with servant's hearts and able to have the choice of whether or not the eat the chicken, which had been cooked after the dog but in the same pot. My first impression on Calcutta made me think "my goodness, theses are people who live like this everyday, I could never do that." The second look revealed the child of God within the subject of kali and that deep calling that they were meant to live for more than peddling a rickshaw.p.s. photos on the way!