Asian Souvenirs

I'm home!

Well friends, I brought two significant things back with me from India this time: Malaria and a job. I suppose I didn't "officially" obtain these things until a few days after returning to the States. Both happened in Toledo, Ohio, where I will be moving to in a little over a month. But they did originate in Asia.

Here's the story:

One fine morning back in Kazakhstan I opened my email to find a message from Mike Fortune, pastor of the Toledo First Seventh-day Adventist Church. He had somehow got ahold of my resume and wanted to interview me for a youth/children's pastor position at Toledo First. I was stunned. I had been actively looking for a place in church ministry since I got back from Europe last fall, but I had all but given up on finding a post. I was signed up and ready to go to Regent College in Vancouver, B.C., having accepted the possibility that perhaps I'd misunderstood God's plans for me, or that perhaps those plans had changed. I was even starting to get excited about the prospects of going back to school and living close by my family and friends. Toledo hit me like a slap in the face, and for the rest of my time in Asia I really struggled through the decision-making process. Here I discovered a lesson about the importance of living lightly, spontaneously: As James says, to qualify my plans with "if the Lord wills it, I will do such and such." I hate living with uncertainty, and so when a plan seems tentative I always try to solidify alternate ones (like possitively-for-sure going to Regent because waiting for a job in ministry was taking so long). Several months ago I felt the Spirit telling me to "quit playing guessing games" about my future, that God would yet surprise me if I could just learn to be content with uncertainty. Well, "SURPRISE!!"

From Kazakhstan I flew back to Delhi and trained directly to Kolkata. Oh, it was glorious. It was so, so good. I saw old friends and made new ones. I revisited the sites of my most precious human memories. Some, I found, had been demolished or were soon to be demolished (the Salvation Army and Farhan hotels have BOTH been condemned, and for India that's saying a LOT about their conditions). So I had to make a new temporary home, this time at Hotel Paragon (still on Sudder Street, though). I think that's where I got chomped on by the blood-sucking, parasite-infested anapholes mosquito that gave me Malaria. The required incubation period seems about right.

After Kolkata I took a little pilgrimage back to Darjeeling, in the foothills of the Himalayas. I stayed in a little cabin on a rolling tea garden where I wrote, sipped tea, and ate steamed momos non-stop for a whole week. It was grand.

I had two very exciting and unexpected train adventures after that. The first took me to Guwahati, the capital of Assam in the far northeast. I have become slightly over-confident in my travels, it's true. I know Indian Railways like the back of my hand. Well, this "knowledge" was my undoing on my trip back from Darjeeling. I first took a jeep down the mountain to New Jalpaiguri, where my train to Sealdah (Kolkata) was to board. I arrived at platform 5 (where my train was scheduled to leave from) just before 8:00 (my scheduled departure time), and nonchalantly climbed on board the train there that said "Sealdah" on the outside. I found my bunk and settled in for the night, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was not quite right. The next morning when I woke up I discovered that the train I was on had actually originated in Sealdah and was going the exact opposite direction (Guwahati). Ha! I laughed my head off after the initial shock. I was also a little pleased with myself. Tourists are not able to purchase tickets to the northeast without special permits that are sometimes difficult to obtain, and here I had snuck on board without a ticket at all! I enjoyed my morning in Guwahati, but thankfully was able to find a cheap flight back to Kolkata so I could keep my appointments in Kolkata and Varanasi. It's too bad I didn't have more time to spend illegally in Assam. :)

From Kolkata I trained back to Varanasi to run some errands and to say farewell to the Sharmas (Lala, Vibha, Vinayak, and Vinit). Vinayak insisted on putting henna on my hands, and I simply couldn't tell him No. I was a little chagrined at the thought of turning up in Toledo for my interview the following week with red tatoos all over my palms, but what could I do? I don't think anyone would have been able to resist Vinayak's cute, earnest little face.

Now here is my second train adventure:

I had a reserved 2nd class ticket leaving for Delhi in the afternoon that day, but I was having such a lovely time with the Sharmas that I decided to forgo my seat and travel on a general, unreserved ticket later that night. I have never, not once, traveled 1st class AC on Indian Railways (I'm a cheap backpacker snob, what can I say?) And though I have wanted to for some time, until August 18th I had also never traveled overnight on a general ticket. I always had too much stuff to carry with me, and I feared it would walk away unnoticed in such a dense crowd of people. But on August 18th I did it, and HOLY COW was it ever an experience!

I have often traveled general class for short distances before, and each time the coaches have been incredibly crowded. But always I have at least been able to find a small corner to crouch down in. But this time I was traveling on the Shiv Ganga "Superfast Express," one of Indian Railway's most popular (and hence, populous) routes. It is a wonder that I was even able to push myself physically inside the train compartment and that I was not crushed to death. Indeed, there was one point in the night where I very nearly almost passed out because I could not inhale properly due to the crushing pressure on my lungs (thankfully I didn't have a wounding fall, because all the other tightly packed bodies held me up straight). I stood for hours that night, on one foot because there wasn't space on the floor for two. Finally we worked out an arrangement so that we could sit down in shifts during the wee hours of the morning. When my turn came I had to sit on the laps of two people. I had two little boys sprawled out over me, a man sleeping on each shoulder, and several sets of legs pinching mine in uncomfortably on all sides. It was almost more agreeable to stand! There have been cases of train passengers arriving dead from suffocation at their final destinations in India. Now I understand why. I can honestly say that I feared for my life at certain points during that trip.

So those were my two great train adventures, and what adventures they were! I spent one more night in Delhi after that before having a visit with Cherry and Varinder and a last momo meal. (Mmm.... Momos...) Varinder is a beautiful Sikh friend who shared with me about how communal meals are taken at Sikh Gurdwaras. I want to learn more about this, because it seemed to me very much like how the New Testament church must have taken meals together ("sharing everything"). At Gurdwaras the rich, the poor, the famous, and the ordinary, all share together in a simple common meal (eating together is considered very intimate in eastern culture). It is an act of unity and celebration, as Varin explained it to me, a place where hierarchical structures and status symbols are left outside. I liked that very much. I wonder what such a meal-sharing time would look like in a western-style church setting?

On August 20th I flew to Seattle and grabbed some fresh clothes before flying back east the next day for my interview. I was met by Shawn Flack, Toledo First church member and tech/sound-system extraordinaire. He and his fabulous wife Mindy put me up for the weekend and ended up looking after me in ways I'm sure they never imagined they would beforehand! Steve and Kendra Bills were also terrific people with whom I ate my first state-side caesar salad in months. That first Friday at lunch I felt like I was going to pass out, but I attributed my body aches to exhaustion and took a heavy dose of ibuprofen before heading early to bed. All day Saturday and through my interview I felt like I had a terrible flu, but I refused to admit that something was wrong. Finally on Sunday morning Mindy and Steve (both being medical people) insisted on taking me to ER after a night of pretty intense fever and chills. Sure enough, I had Malaria. I was diagnosed with P. Falciparum, the deadliest and most drug-resistant kind. You can guess I was a fascinating case study for med students at the University of Toledo Medical Center!

The Malarone they gave me didn't seem to do the healing trick, and Tuesday morning found me back in ER at the insistence of Toledo's infectious disease specialists. They drew more blood and determined that I actually did not have P. Falciparum, but rather the milder, recurring kind. (Great.) I also had a UTI. Two Indian doctors (whom I was relieved to see) pumped me full of enough Bactrim and Mefloquine to kill a legion of rats I'm sure, and then sent me home with a 14-day Primaquine prescription. In Africa I took 250 mgs of Mefloquine per week as a Malaria preventative, and it made me dizzy for the whole trip. You can't imagine what I looked like staggering through the airport after swallowing 1000 mgs of Mefloquine in one DAY! People must have thought I was drunk.

Well, I'm back on my feet now. It took almost two weeks, but I'd say I'm up to 90%. Now for a little more about the job:

Amazingly, the good people at Toledo First offered me the position (in spite of my hennad hands, wrinkled clothes, travel-weathered hair, and tropical disease-- whoever said you had to look good for an interview?) I was extremely impressed by the Toledo First community. They were obviously a very committed group of people, with a mind for community outreach and practical spirituality. I loved the questions they asked me in my interview, things like, "What two things, if we said them now, would make you not want to come and work with us?" This post is getting ridiculously long, so I won't drag it out further with more details about the interview. But my impression was that the Toledo First church is the sort of community anyone would would be proud to belong to. They struck me as creative, fresh, fearless, and ready and willing to try new things. They were supportive, warm, and joy-filled. These days we hear so many stories of sedentary congregations unwilling to change, unable to love, and bound by quarrels of the past. I did not sense this spirit at Toledo First-- not in the least. They are a people with vision.

I did not accept the position the night of the interview, because my head was just swimming with Malaria. I wanted some clarity before I said yes. But now I have said yes. And I'm glad. I still cannot believe that after everything that's happened this year, God is finally fulfilling the purpose for which (I believe) I came back from Europe. I will arrive in Toledo mid October-- exactly a year after I began this odyssey of love and joy and fragile (shockingly resilient) reawakened Christian confidence. What a year of beauty I have had-- beautiful wandering, healing, hoping, hurting-- beautiful belonging. I cannot adequately express my gratitude for the gifts I've been given these last twelve months, even in spite of the sad times that have come to my family. Yes, I'm glad.

So that's all for now, friends. Below is a You Tube promo for the first event I'll be in Toledo for at the end of October ("Tent City"). You'll need to pause the music on My Playlist to the right of this entry before you hit start. It is VERY cool.

Adventures in Central Asia (Kazakhstan & Kyrgizstan)

Well friends, I've made to Kolkata. In the interest of time I'm just going to buzz through a collage of my trip to Central Asia.

Ready, set, go:

I left India a few weeks ago to go visit Gina and David, friends of mine who are teaching at an English language school in Almaty, Kazakhstan. Central Asia, or “Eurasia,” is a region of the world few North Americans know much about. Kazakhs loved asking me if I’d ever even heard of their country before I arrived in Almaty. Kazakhstan, Kyrgizstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Turkmenistan were all joined with Russia and several of the Eastern European countries to form the USSR prior to the Soviet fall, but most of us in America (if we’ve heard of these countries at all) imagine them to be more like Afghanistan, Pakistan, etc. They aren’t.

Leftover Russians make up approximately 40% of Kazakhstan’s population, and Russian is the most widely spoken language throughout the country. The next largest ethnic group is the native Kazakh people, who are similar in culture and language to the Uighurs of western China. They are traditionally Muslims (gentle and non-extremist). In times past they were mountaineers, nomads, and shepherds, but most of the country has become very modern since Soviet times. In fact, Almaty is becoming a popular destination for international business meetings and trade commerce. It is a city of incredible diversity and style. Koreans, Chinese, Kazakhs, Uzbeks, Kyrgize, and Russians all buzz around the street speaking their own languages, and somehow they all understand each other. Muslim and Orthodox Christian women sport the newest European fads, high-heels, and Italian-made handbags. Both Kazakhstan and Kyrgizstan have broken all my stereotypes about Islamic modesty: many of the girls in Almaty would make even Hollywood stars blush! On the whole, I found the people incredibly friendly, gracious, and open, and I would recommend Central Asia to anyone seeking a unique cultural experience.

I arrived in Almaty at 4:30 am on July 6^th—the streets were clean and the air refreshingly cool after six weeks in India. Little adventurers that we were, Gina, David and I opted to take the city bus back to their apartment rather than splurge on a taxi. But the buses were not due to start until 7:00am, so after walking around for an hour with my pack, we finally planted ourselves under a shelter to watch the pre-dawn rains wash the streets clean. It was lovely.

It wasn’t long before a drunk but friendly local man came up and started chatting with us (mostly he was just interested in my Indian salwar kamis. He kept pointing at me and slurring, “Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!) After Gina had explained in Uighur that we were not Krishna devotees, the man decided we were Muslim and that Gina and I were both David’s wives. Hmm. That was a touch awkward! Gina finally was able to convince our new friend that we were actually Christians and that she was David’s only wife (after which point the man proceeded to propose to me. He was quite insistent and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Finally the bus came and took me away. Poor fellow.)

After an hour and a half-long nap back at Gina’s, we set off for a day hike in the Xhin Jung Mountains bordering China. What a stunningly beautiful trip it was! I got a rush of excitement taking in the vistas—it reminded me of the view I had each morning from my bedroom window at Swiss L’Abri. Some of Gina and David’s English students came along with us, and it was great fun sharing friendship with local people so quickly into my stay.

After miraculously obtaining a same-day Kyrgiz visa, David, Gina, and I hired a cheap taxi to take us the five hours into Tokmok (Kyrgizstan). But when our friend the taxi driver had seen us through to the other side of the border (so that our passports were stamped and we couldn't return to Kazakhstan), he informed us that he had forgotten his own travel documents in Almaty and that we would have to find our own way into Tokmok. So... stuck in the midst of a barren wasteland desert-looking place, the three of us hiked up our packs and set off on foot for the nearest sign of civilization we could find. Along the way we saw the most incredible rainbow in the clouds-- unlike anything I'd ever seen. No rain, just a rainbow.

I was honestly a little disappointed by how fast we were able to hitch a ride with some locals. I was hoping for a really grizzly story of being stranded in a desert with no water, no place to stay, etc., etc. But our adventure ended short because two friendly Kyrgiz fellows picked us up and deposited us right at our destination in Tokmok. Bummer. (Oh, okay, it WAS really nice of them!:))

In Tokmok we met an Argentinian guy and his Kazakh wife, former ADRA-Afghanistan workers: he an accountant and she a doctor. They are trying to set up a school and woodworking factory for students in Tokmok. Gina and I had a lovely time frolicking around the city eating leposhka (see below) and having riveting theological discussions while David and Erik looked at building plans (yawn).

After a short time in Tokmok, the three of us boarded a bus to Lake Issyk-Kul where we met Sergei and Servietta (from Bishkek) at a thrifty, fruit-tree laden, Adventist-run guest house. It was a terrific place to camp, and we had a lovely time there all together talking late into the night about those important things that transcend all cultures (like fear, death, hope, Christ, and grace). At our Friday evening vespers an old, weathered man challenged one or two of our youthful comments with the wisdom of one who had lived through the worst of the Soviet times. He had seen starvation and hunger and deprivation, but his faith had held fast through all those years. Faith like that speaks authority in my book.

On day two or three in Issyk Kul, David, Gina, Sergei, Servietta, and I headed up into the mountains and haggled with some herdsmen to get a couple hours on their horses. Remarkably, Gina was able to finagle a better deal with her Uigher than Sergei was with his Russian. They really respected that Gina knew an obscure local dialect, even if it wasn't their own!

Oh, the views were stunning-- simply, utterly, and indescribably stunning. It was a day made in Heaven with the wind blowing ever so slightly and the river rushing and the green-caps soaring high. My horse was a beauty and I had a nice run with her through the meadows (though I was a bit scared, as an inexperienced horse-lady. Gina was a much better rider than I was!) We ended our jaunt with tea and pilao (a rice dish) surved in a yurt (a tent of skins used by the nomadic mountain people of the region).

Early on Sabbath morning Gina, David and I bused to Bishkek in time for a contextualized (Islamic-styled) church service (purported to be Hanif, but we found out once we got there that it really wasn't). We sat on the floor and prayed with our hands open like Muslims do, but besides that I didn't think it was really that much different from a regular church service. Gina insisted it wasn't real Hanif, so I guess I'll just have to go to the Middle East one day and find a Hanif mosque for myself!

Having wilfully spent our last cash on the Issyk-Kul horse trip, we plunged into Bishkek after church in search of an ATM machine. Someone at the church drew us a map and suggested that we take the bus, but we didn't want to tell them that we didn't even have five coms between us for bus fare! Every shop we stopped at for directions insisted (with laughter and riotous handmotions) that our destination was too far and that we needed to take a bus. The day was hot and we were desperately thirsty. Finally a compassionate Russian woman saw us staring sheepishly at our map and came over to help us. Tatiana immediately took charge of the situation: she took us to her humble home, fed us, and bathed us. Then she took David (by bus) to the ATM machine and the bakery (where she had to pick up cakes-- it was her birthday!) Talk about incredible hospitality! I was so deeply moved by this woman's kindness and love. She didn't speak a word of English, and Gina and David only knew minimal Russian, so we spent a considerable amount of time with our language dictionaries. Below is a picture of Tatiana's son and a family friend. When it was finally time for us to go they latched on our packs like good lads and walked us to the bus stall where they aggressively wrestled seats for us on the next caravan back to Tokmok. They were terrific!

Arriving back at the Kazakhstan border the next day, the only difficulty we seemed to have was that they couldn't identify which country my passport belonged to. It took them a good five minutes to verify that Canada was indeed a country, and that my passport was valid. He he. I guess there aren't HORDES of Canadian tourists storming the borders of Central Asia. I was glad I finally got through, and so were David and Gina.

Okay, I'm going to wind this up now...

My last two weeks out of India were spent in Almaty, teaching for Gina (who ended up having to return to the U.S. on a short-notice family errand). I actually really enjoyed it! Her students were terrific, and it turned out that I wasn't really so awful at English grammer after all. Johanson would have been proud. Stefanovic would have gawked in unbelief! Awe, the good old Greek and Hebrew days. They were indeed terrible!

My last few days in Almaty were spent touring numerous parks, markets, zoos, Soviet monuments, and even a religious site or two. (David and I got to sit in for a wedding at the big Orthodox Cathedral in town. That was definitely cool.) I can see, now, why Gina and David have fallen and stayed in love with Central Asia. Those Grebleys are both so dear to me; now their beloved home lives in my heart, too.