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.

Varanasi

Well, I suppose it's time I post a more substantial update here.

I am still in Varanasi having a very nice time, despite the unrelenting heat. Hot Walla Walla summers can be endured thanks to expensive conveniences like air conditioning. But I have yet to find such lovely luxury devices here in Varanasi!

Varanasi is a very ancient city, with centuries-old buildings all crammed up against each other. A network of narrow alleyways weaves this way and that throughout the old city, each somehow connecting to another and another that eventually takes you either to the main road or to the ghats (bathing steps on the banks of the River Ganges). If you've read my India blogs before then you'll have already heard more than enough about the layout and history of Varanasi. It's enough for newcomers here to share that Varanasi is the holiest site in India for Hindu pilgrims. Traditionally it is believed that dying in Varanasi achieves for the deceased automatic release from the oppressive cycle of rebirth. I am staying on the rooftop of Shanti (Peace) Guesthouse, a short step from Manikarnika Ghat (the main cremation site in Varanasi). Here the dead are wrapped in linen and garlands and doused with river water before they are burned in full public view. I am often interrupted in my goings through the streets by a family entourage bearing the body of someone destined for Manikarnika, and I can almost always catch the scent of burning ash in the air. Cremations at Manikarnika happen 24 hours a day. Occasionally I can also see corpses floating down the river unburned (animals, children under 13, pregnant women, sadhus, lepers, and those killed by cobra bites are not cremated for various reasons having to do with purification). Certainly no one can have any illusions about death in this city!

I've met lots of interesting people in Varanasi already-- tourists from Poland, Finland, The Netherlands, Germany, Japan, Brazil, Sweden, and the U.K. One Dutch girl staying in my dorm road her bicycle from The Netherlands all the way to Kathmandu and then bought a motorbike and toured Rajasthan before returning to Kathmandu and cycling down to Varanasi. Now she is trying to find a man with a little boat who will take her all the way to Kolkata (a two week journey down the Ganges). I was tempted to join her until I asked around and learned that some notorious guerrilla groups camp along the shore line in Bihar. I figured I'd best think of something fun to do that is not also potentially deadly. The Dutch girl is also now faltering on the idea and is looking into cycling to Kolkata. You can check out her amazing blog at: www.cyclingdutchgirl.waarbenjij.nu

Even if taking the boat was possible, I probably wouldn't have time. I've been busy here in Varanasi learning tabla and teaching some guitar to my tabla teacher's son. They are a wonderful family-- Lala, Biba, and their two boys. I met Lala through some other tourists when I was in Dharamsala (my first trip to India), and took a few tabla lessons then. Now he and his wife have opened their (minuscule) home to me. They invite me for meals and conversation all the time and they continue to expand my understanding of Hindu culture. Lala's father was a professional Brahmin priest by trade, and the family is very devout. Next week Biba has determined to dress me up like a real Indian woman-- bangles, braids, oiled hair, sari, vermilion powder and all. This will be fun!

Soon I will also start going more regularly to Sarnath, where Amistad sponsors a free school for street children. I'll mostly be interviewing people and writing articles for Amistad's newsletter. I'm lucky in that I'll get some pay for this-- I'm trying to buy some more scarves to sell for school money in the States! Lala helped me locate a silk wholesaler, so that will be extremely helpful.