Greetings to those who are so gracious to travel alongside me in my journey through life.
I wanted to begin writing again and I am here in Costa Rica experiencing another
slice of creation. I wanted to preserve my reflections from India so I decided
to continue on the same blog. Many blessings and thank you.
Monday, July 14, 2008
my reflections
I am fairly certain that I have only just begun to process my year here in Kerala. But perhaps, that relates to one lesson that I have learned—that the quality of raw food is superior to that of processed ones and that the caliber of handmade, homespun, self-financed goods cannot be replaced by the manufactured ones. Likewise, maybe my initial, raw thoughts and emotions will be more compelling than the thoughts I will take years to process. In fact, I even wonder if we lose some of the heartfelt vigor and ingenuous curiosity when we mull over something for far too long. So here they are, my experiences— honest and unrefined.
Before this year, I really had no concept of just how influential our lives and decisions in America affect countries like India. It is not only corporate America or the policy makers that create impacts, but also each of us as consumers and global citizens. In college I tried to stay informed on global issues, but here, I felt I have lived amongst the issues. It is my neighbors that don’t have enough to eat, who are landless, and who are denied their basic rights. It is tough to realize that your own nation, claiming to be “developed,” has practices and policies that dictate the “development” of other countries.
I have learned that generalizations are useless and quite often, completely off the mark. Just as each state in India varies in culture, food, dress, environment and language, each person is different from the next. I have been, at times, shocked by the many generalizations that have been made about my home or me and this has allowed for self-awareness regarding the generalizations that I make about others.
In Kerala, I have found a new concept of hospitality. I have been welcomed “in” again and again—hosted by friends, families, and complete strangers. I have been made to be like a family member at marriages. I have been served countless cups of tea and been showed off to everyone’s neighbors. More than food and functions, I have consistently found grace in others-- when I fumble with my very few Malayalam words or have my churidar top tucked into my pants, when my hairstyle is wrong or I am clueless to what is going on, when I have too much pride to ask for directions or help I have found friends who will take me as I am, genuinely interested in my life. I hope that I can take this with me and learn to be a gracious host and an ever-grateful guest.
Yet, while I want to be a grateful guest, I have also realized the need to feel as an integrated part of a community. At times, it has been a challenge to find the balance of being a part of a culture and observing all that that entails without losing your own identity or compromising what you hold true. But in seeking this balance, I have encountered many revelations about my world, my faith, and myself and been given the opportunity to more solidly form my own identity and the truths that I claim.
Most importantly, my year has been shaped and hugely impacted by a deeper understanding of Jesus’ radical ministry. My worldview has been shifted by find the Jesus who engages in social justice. I found that I have detached Jesus from social justice compartmentalizing the two into different passions of mine. But now I see that Jesus represents justice, equality and a kingdom that is unlike any political empire that has ever existed. As we have delved into the marginalized people that Jesus restores, I am discovering the variety of the marginalized in my own community here. These people are not only the poor, the sick, the different, but also the neglected, the women, the children. And, it was these very people that Jesus made the center of His ministry while using signs to point to larger social issues.
Contrast
I know I will be asked to describe India. How was it? What is it like? I already hear the questions looming.
To capture a year of experiences, a life lived in a new place is a challenge in itself. But, trying to capture a whole counrty and hundreds of years of history and civilization by describing a year in one tiny corner of the country will be defeating. All I can offer is my own limited experiences, albeit fulfilling and life-enriching ones.
I might attempt to depict India as a land of extremes. The striking sun clashing with the pounding rains. Arguably one of the most ecologically prized landscapes, dotted with piles of waste. An elephant working beside a bulldozer. A bullock cart beside a Land Cruiser. Never have I seen the juxtaposition between the haves and have-nots so strikingly obvious. The highest and the lowest placed one next to the other. Where neighbors coexist with great dichotomy—a grand estate flanked by a tiny colony of umbrella dwellers. Here, you will find hospitality like you’ve never seen. Simultaneously, a class system pervades the social structure and, albeit a Hindu construct, continues to dictate the underpinnings of the Church.
Contrasts. A concrete one room house with dirt floors and a family hovered around a television. Emaciated and corpulent. No scraps wasted; no scraps used. The same stick used by the same teacher to both hit a child and also affectionately tease a child.
Contradictions. Watching a highly educated and established woman belittled and berated by her husband. Seeing a family home broken apart in order to provide for the demands for a daughter's new family. Finding a place that is legendary for its natural health therapies suddenly inundated with imported processed foods. The politics and culture of an infant country (such as America) influencing the very livelihood of the people in a country with such an ancient and rich heritage (such as India).
Interestingly, one of the greatest contrasts I have learned in the year is the perception of my country and that that is my country. Stepping into a new place, you learn about your own. You learn that no country has it perfect. No country has it right. No country has the authority to dominate another. And, no country or people can be generalized or described in a matter of words.
To capture a year of experiences, a life lived in a new place is a challenge in itself. But, trying to capture a whole counrty and hundreds of years of history and civilization by describing a year in one tiny corner of the country will be defeating. All I can offer is my own limited experiences, albeit fulfilling and life-enriching ones.
I might attempt to depict India as a land of extremes. The striking sun clashing with the pounding rains. Arguably one of the most ecologically prized landscapes, dotted with piles of waste. An elephant working beside a bulldozer. A bullock cart beside a Land Cruiser. Never have I seen the juxtaposition between the haves and have-nots so strikingly obvious. The highest and the lowest placed one next to the other. Where neighbors coexist with great dichotomy—a grand estate flanked by a tiny colony of umbrella dwellers. Here, you will find hospitality like you’ve never seen. Simultaneously, a class system pervades the social structure and, albeit a Hindu construct, continues to dictate the underpinnings of the Church.
Contrasts. A concrete one room house with dirt floors and a family hovered around a television. Emaciated and corpulent. No scraps wasted; no scraps used. The same stick used by the same teacher to both hit a child and also affectionately tease a child.
Contradictions. Watching a highly educated and established woman belittled and berated by her husband. Seeing a family home broken apart in order to provide for the demands for a daughter's new family. Finding a place that is legendary for its natural health therapies suddenly inundated with imported processed foods. The politics and culture of an infant country (such as America) influencing the very livelihood of the people in a country with such an ancient and rich heritage (such as India).
Interestingly, one of the greatest contrasts I have learned in the year is the perception of my country and that that is my country. Stepping into a new place, you learn about your own. You learn that no country has it perfect. No country has it right. No country has the authority to dominate another. And, no country or people can be generalized or described in a matter of words.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Common Threads
Manninda manum. “The flavor of the sand.” It’s a Malayalam phrase the postman taught me that captures the essence of sustainability. Essentially, there is no paradigm of development that can be applied to an entire global context. The “flavor of the sand” dictates the needs as well as the sources of livelihood of a community.
One thing I have learned while in India is that it is futile to generalize. The stark contrast among states in India, is proof alone that diversity reigns. In traveling, I have come to realize that not only do the physical environments change with each border crossing, but also the tastes, the dress, the language, the customs, the sights, and the sounds. Like the character of each state, people are very different.
A favorite song among our group is titled Common Thread and describes unity among diversity. There is one stanza that depicts sustainability (it’s also given me words to describe my own decision in being a vegetarian!)
"We can feed our grain to cattle and the rich men will be fed;
we will rise all together we will rise
Or we’ll feed our grain to people so that millions will have bread;
we will rise all together, we will rise.
We will rise like the ocean, we will rise like the sun.
We will rise all together, we will rise.
No more will there be hunger in these strands of common thread,
We will rise all together, we will rise."
Maintaining the livelihood of marginalized people requires sustainable measures. I am discovering that sustainable development encompasses far more than the efficient use of available natural resources by a community. It includes sustainable economics and politics, agricultural and industrial practices. We are quick to distinguish between the “developed” and “developing.” Perhaps “developed” countries can look to “developing” countries for natural and basic solutions to the complicated problems that have resulted from our expansionist mindset and prevalent consumerism-- co-ops of women creating recycled papers and homemade soaps or men who come to the shore with the sun carrying the fish that will provide for their family’s daily meal. Fuel created from vegetable scraps, rainwater harvesting. Lives that seem rudimentary or “developing.” Simply. People living life so as to meet their basic needs. Simply.
As the “flavor of the sand,” it is essential that sustainability be incorporated according to a people and a place. It is only then that the strands can be woven into a common thread.
While the thread is strengthened by the addition of each strand, the simple fibers must also be able to maintain their elements, resilient at the core.
One thing I have learned while in India is that it is futile to generalize. The stark contrast among states in India, is proof alone that diversity reigns. In traveling, I have come to realize that not only do the physical environments change with each border crossing, but also the tastes, the dress, the language, the customs, the sights, and the sounds. Like the character of each state, people are very different.
A favorite song among our group is titled Common Thread and describes unity among diversity. There is one stanza that depicts sustainability (it’s also given me words to describe my own decision in being a vegetarian!)
"We can feed our grain to cattle and the rich men will be fed;
we will rise all together we will rise
Or we’ll feed our grain to people so that millions will have bread;
we will rise all together, we will rise.
We will rise like the ocean, we will rise like the sun.
We will rise all together, we will rise.
No more will there be hunger in these strands of common thread,
We will rise all together, we will rise."
Maintaining the livelihood of marginalized people requires sustainable measures. I am discovering that sustainable development encompasses far more than the efficient use of available natural resources by a community. It includes sustainable economics and politics, agricultural and industrial practices. We are quick to distinguish between the “developed” and “developing.” Perhaps “developed” countries can look to “developing” countries for natural and basic solutions to the complicated problems that have resulted from our expansionist mindset and prevalent consumerism-- co-ops of women creating recycled papers and homemade soaps or men who come to the shore with the sun carrying the fish that will provide for their family’s daily meal. Fuel created from vegetable scraps, rainwater harvesting. Lives that seem rudimentary or “developing.” Simply. People living life so as to meet their basic needs. Simply.
As the “flavor of the sand,” it is essential that sustainability be incorporated according to a people and a place. It is only then that the strands can be woven into a common thread.
While the thread is strengthened by the addition of each strand, the simple fibers must also be able to maintain their elements, resilient at the core.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Empowered
One of the greatest joys of my year has been working at Jyothis- Home of Love. It is a home and school for students with special needs. Amidst the chaos this place exudes, I find it a personal haven of peace. I am readily accepted-- my hand is always held or high-fived. It doesn’t particularly matter that I am not fluent in the language; communication at Jyothis transcends words. There’s Jojo, the self-appointed grass cutter with a temper that can change in an instant; Annie who says hello to me and then hides her face at least once a minute; Srudie with the sweetest smile; Bapu who tries to escape or drive away on the bus daily; Jerren who adores Cricket and is the handy man of the crowd. The disabilities vary greatly, but here is a place where I see the students taking care of each other even when the rest of the world has become distracted with its own needs.
As I watched the students standing in an assembly line to pass bricks up for roof repair, I witnessed the difference between simply helping someone and actually empowering that person to do something. For the past month, we have been making paper bags in the vocational class out of old newspapers. As the stack of bags swells, so does the confidence and ingenuous pride of the each student in the class. The completed bags are sold for a small amount at the local produce shop. It may seem like a trivial task to make a bag out of a newspaper, but for some, it is the completion of a monumental task. Each completed bag is an affirmation of one’s abilities and sufficiency.
The miraculous signs that Jesus performed during his lifetime meant far more than healing of the body or spirit. In fact, if we get caught trying to determine the means, probability and extraordinaire of it all than we are missing the point. This was no magic show. Jesus sought to empower the powerless, the marginalized, the outcastes. He gave a voice to the silent and strength to the weak. The freedom was not so much in the healing as it was in the implications that being healed brought- the acceptance into a society that for so long had shunned this exiled individual. By empowering these people—to walk, to see, to enter the temple—Jesus’ healings point to a necessary paradigm shift in the power structure and the society’s acceptance of others.
As I watched the students standing in an assembly line to pass bricks up for roof repair, I witnessed the difference between simply helping someone and actually empowering that person to do something. For the past month, we have been making paper bags in the vocational class out of old newspapers. As the stack of bags swells, so does the confidence and ingenuous pride of the each student in the class. The completed bags are sold for a small amount at the local produce shop. It may seem like a trivial task to make a bag out of a newspaper, but for some, it is the completion of a monumental task. Each completed bag is an affirmation of one’s abilities and sufficiency.
The miraculous signs that Jesus performed during his lifetime meant far more than healing of the body or spirit. In fact, if we get caught trying to determine the means, probability and extraordinaire of it all than we are missing the point. This was no magic show. Jesus sought to empower the powerless, the marginalized, the outcastes. He gave a voice to the silent and strength to the weak. The freedom was not so much in the healing as it was in the implications that being healed brought- the acceptance into a society that for so long had shunned this exiled individual. By empowering these people—to walk, to see, to enter the temple—Jesus’ healings point to a necessary paradigm shift in the power structure and the society’s acceptance of others.
Friday, May 16, 2008
CLEAN
Cleanliness is relative. At least that is what I keep telling myself. I am a product of an anti-bacterial dousing, Lysol engulfing, don’t drink after anyone culture. I am learning to give that up really quickly, let me tell you. When it comes to the issues of neatness and germs, I lean towards the “I suffer from OCD tendencies,” category. Just ask my roommates. One of the toughest habits that I am quickly being forced to break is living according to my preconceived notions of cleanliness. Here, I cannot always wash my hands before I eat -- even if I just touched the hands of 80 small children. We share glasses. Many dishes are cleaned with no more than a quick swirl of hand and water. Have I drilled it enough that we don’t use toilet paper? Each morning I wake up to a find a small pile of the door by the door. The ants are literally eating away at the door. I can see through the door in some parts and I am just waiting for the day when I wake up to the sun shining bright through my non-existent door.
But, I will tell you one thing. I am learning to be humble and to let things go. When I see day after day the aching dirty soles of laboring feet I can better comprehend the biblical significance of feet washing and the precious gift to whom it was bestowed upon. Jesus ate with those considered unclean. Did you get that? He actually sat down and ate a meal with them. He lived among these people. And I can hardly go anywhere without my anti-bacterial hand gel and miniature roll of toilet paper. In India, there are often restrictions for women who are menstruating. There are some temples that women cannot enter in the entire span of their childbearing years. They are considered unclean. I think I am beginning to see that cleanliness is more than pressed clothes, clean ears, and fresh sheets. It is a way of living. Like a cold shower on a hot day, we should revel in the company and lives of other whether the society tells us they are clean or unclean.
But, I will tell you one thing. I am learning to be humble and to let things go. When I see day after day the aching dirty soles of laboring feet I can better comprehend the biblical significance of feet washing and the precious gift to whom it was bestowed upon. Jesus ate with those considered unclean. Did you get that? He actually sat down and ate a meal with them. He lived among these people. And I can hardly go anywhere without my anti-bacterial hand gel and miniature roll of toilet paper. In India, there are often restrictions for women who are menstruating. There are some temples that women cannot enter in the entire span of their childbearing years. They are considered unclean. I think I am beginning to see that cleanliness is more than pressed clothes, clean ears, and fresh sheets. It is a way of living. Like a cold shower on a hot day, we should revel in the company and lives of other whether the society tells us they are clean or unclean.
SOLIDARITY
I have tossed this word around so many times over the year. I have heard it claimed at lectures and conferences and read it in the papers. As a tune stuck on repeat in my head, so is this word. What does it really mean to be in solidarity with others? To be in solidarity with the poor? To be in solidarity with the marginalized? If I am not considered a part of the “untouchable class” than how am I to place myself as one with these people? I have spent many days seeking to extrapolate more than the meaning of this noun- rather to understand how to live the word more as a verb form. What does it really look like to live in solidarity with others?
Well, for starts there is the idea of conformity. This approach would call me to give up my cultural identity and the underpinnings of my life as I know it. I could “do as the Romans.” But, I soon realize that the way in which we see and discover the world is shaped by the lens of our background. There really is no way to completely remove our experiences, traditions and history. Perhaps the lesson here is bring who we are into a new place with the flexibility and open mindedness to embrace and respect a culture different from our own with the knowledge that things will be different.
Well then, how about giving up all that I have and living on the streets with the impoverished themselves? Hmmm. I am not really sure what this is doing and if this “solution” offers anything more than to make me “feel better.” We have been entrusted with tools among which are education, health, food, and shelter that, if left unused, then we would be wasting the instruments by which we can serve others. The reality is we can choose simpler lifestyles without throwing it all out.
We can be in solidarity by sharing what we have and who we are- by regarding both the material wealth and also the intangible gifts that we possess as something that is entrusted in our care for the benefit of more than ourselves. I am far from discovering the perfect picture of solidarity, but I think I shared in a moment of it this week. It was really quite simple. Nothing spectacular. I didn’t really feel accomplished or like I made a huge revelation. It was just a simple moment that impacted my own being.
Against their garrulous protesting, I got to spend an hour weeding the grounds with the mess staff. In Malayalam I was given a list of excuses why I shouldn’t dare be among them working like this- I would get dirty, I had better things to do, I was the teacher. I was able to show them in my actions that I value what they do, I want them to allow me to share in their burden. I tried to convey in words that this was my home too, that I enjoyed being with them and doing this work I don’t want anyone (including myself or them) to put us on two different planes because I am a foreigner, or educated, or a teacher, or have more financial resources. Being in solidarity is sharing in struggles and causes, it’s placing yourself along side others, it’s sharing your gifts, it’s living out your life among the lives of others and affirming their lives, livelihood and existence in this world.
Well, for starts there is the idea of conformity. This approach would call me to give up my cultural identity and the underpinnings of my life as I know it. I could “do as the Romans.” But, I soon realize that the way in which we see and discover the world is shaped by the lens of our background. There really is no way to completely remove our experiences, traditions and history. Perhaps the lesson here is bring who we are into a new place with the flexibility and open mindedness to embrace and respect a culture different from our own with the knowledge that things will be different.
Well then, how about giving up all that I have and living on the streets with the impoverished themselves? Hmmm. I am not really sure what this is doing and if this “solution” offers anything more than to make me “feel better.” We have been entrusted with tools among which are education, health, food, and shelter that, if left unused, then we would be wasting the instruments by which we can serve others. The reality is we can choose simpler lifestyles without throwing it all out.
We can be in solidarity by sharing what we have and who we are- by regarding both the material wealth and also the intangible gifts that we possess as something that is entrusted in our care for the benefit of more than ourselves. I am far from discovering the perfect picture of solidarity, but I think I shared in a moment of it this week. It was really quite simple. Nothing spectacular. I didn’t really feel accomplished or like I made a huge revelation. It was just a simple moment that impacted my own being.
Against their garrulous protesting, I got to spend an hour weeding the grounds with the mess staff. In Malayalam I was given a list of excuses why I shouldn’t dare be among them working like this- I would get dirty, I had better things to do, I was the teacher. I was able to show them in my actions that I value what they do, I want them to allow me to share in their burden. I tried to convey in words that this was my home too, that I enjoyed being with them and doing this work I don’t want anyone (including myself or them) to put us on two different planes because I am a foreigner, or educated, or a teacher, or have more financial resources. Being in solidarity is sharing in struggles and causes, it’s placing yourself along side others, it’s sharing your gifts, it’s living out your life among the lives of others and affirming their lives, livelihood and existence in this world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)