Retreating to Comfort, Taking off the Kid Gloves, and Seeing God

Note: The next two paragraphs contain a self-righteous diatribe. For the basic "How's she doing" stuff, you can just skip to the third paragraph.

I'm sitting in the only air conditioned room in my house, just after a refreshing shower, drinking a delicious cup of tea and a cold bottle of water, with a meal of my choosing being prepared for me. I am living privilege in India. That's most certainly not to say that I'm not enjoying every gift of privilege--especially the air conditioning and the internet that lets me Skype with Travis and my family. In fact, I must admit that my soft, first-world, pampered self might be finding it quite hard to "deal" if I didn't have these comforts to come home to each day.  Leaving comfort behind is extra hard when you are in a new place (and missing friends and family).  You want to find a rhythm and feel safe and at home. But its funny how much more I need in order to feel safe, at home, and balanced than an average Bengali. And as I, with great thanks, retreat to my air conditioned room and my shower and my cha (tea) and my Skype session with Travis every day, I wonder how do any of you servants, you who leave behind comfort to serve with love, do it?  I can barely go to a fully paid and very cushy language program.  When I am here, I can't help but think about the world's extraordinary servants, and how far I am from their level of love and courage,  not only because Cal is the home of Mother Teresa but also because poverty is less easily hidden here than it is in Bloomington (although it most certainly exists there as well).

Wonderful, wonderful afternoon tea with sweets

I am trying to walk a middle ground in this post because on the one hand I don't want to paint India, as far too many colonialists and missionaries have done, as a dirty, undesirable, backwards place of great need.  Aside from being incredibly culturally rich and filled with some of the nicest people I have ever met, Cal is vibrant, dynamic, often beautiful, and rich with God's presence (I'll return to this). Yet, on the other hand, there is no denying the fact that there is incredible need here, that you can see the results of systemic economic inequality, and that with every step outside, I am reminded of my privilege and challenged to consider what it means to be a Christ follower in Cal--especially when I am here on a cushy language program scholarship. I have been re-reading Shane Claiborne's  Irresistible Revolution, along with the book of Matthew, to keep this challenge alive and well within me--to let it mess me up every day--because the last thing I want is to let the Children of God sleeping on the street fade into the background in my effort to feel better about my surroundings. That's not to say that I am doing anything different as a Christ follower...I'm still stalled out there (see paragraph above and note addiction to comfort). For now I am just toiling with my own inner (possibly self-righteous) metaphysical crisis. And while I worry about getting sick from drinking water or mosquito bites and hand a 10 rupee piece to a woman on the street, someone else is washing someone's wounds and living love instead of theorizing it from the air conditioning. I can't wait for Travis to get here so we can let this screw us up together (from the air conditioning).

A family celebrating jamay shosti outside my home

A week ago it seemed impossible that I would ever feel comfortable in Cal because it is just so, so massive and new. After orientation on the first day of class, I learned that I needed to figure out the bus system to get to and from class each day. I'm the kind of girl who will avoid public transport as long as possible because I am so afraid of getting lost in a city riding on a bus full of people who know I am lost. But it was really the best possible scenario for me--a challenge to just jump into the city from the get go. My first two days of riding the bus were pretty hilarious. I rode the wrong bus, got off at the wrong place, got lost in the city (at night), got lost in the neighborhood on the way to class in the morning, got on the wrong bus again, oh, and got on the wrong bus again.  But with every wrong bus and every wrong stop I am slowly figuring out South Cal. 

My bus stop

Moreover, with every misstep, when I have asked a Bengali for help, they all have been extremely helpful. Sometimes on the bus, someone will overhear me tell the bus helper my stop, and they will tell me that they know the stop and will tell me when to get off. I've made alot of hand-drawn maps, and wandered down some main streets and have eventually become much more comfortable with my neighborhood and more appreciative of the kindness of strangers. Slowly, I am becoming able to look and enjoy, instead of searching frantically for street signs, and it feels liberating. If I hadn't been placed in a home so far from school, I know I would have spent the past week simply going from home to school, with no other adventures in between (note earlier stated addiction to comfort).

The street below my home (that's a Hanuman temple in the center of the street)

So Cal is forcing its adventures onto me. In the first few moments of each unexpected event or challenge, I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach--the "Oh Shit"--moment, and then in the next breath I am just figuring it out,  mostly because there is no other option, but also because I know God is with me (I feel your prayers for those of you praying--there's no other way to explain the goodness of the past week in the midst of my mini adventures).  And at the end of each adventure, as I return home sweaty, enlightened, humbled and mumbling prayers of thanksgiving for protection and the goodness of helpful strangers under my breath, I have learned a new way of getting around the city, found a new, lovely place to explore, and realized that you really do have to get lost sometimes to figure out where the hell you are.  I have also realized that despite my love-hate relationship with my privilege, when I am lost and scared, I will quickly utilize my American middle-class status and walk into the fancy stores to ask for directions because I know they will help me. Oh Cal! You teach me so much!

Birla Mandir

Ladies outside of the Birla Temple

Park Street Cemetery

After just a week, I have discovered the Park Street cemetery (a creepy but beautiful monument to British colonialism), worshiped at a contemporary Christian church service (with a white hipster worship leader with a haircut that's just as cool as Travis'), discovered the metro, enjoyed time at the famous College Street Coffee House, discovered the best place to get doi phucka (delicious street food), visited a handful of temples, and figured out some important basics like where to buy coffee, water  and toilet paper by my house (its the simple things). I've also figured out how to utilize a Taxi and the Metro (hint: always stare at a map for a long time before the journey, so you know when your Bangla has been mispronounced and you are going in the wrong direction).  I can't say that I did much of any of that on my own in Dhaka (don't worry, mom, I'm being safe), so I am thankful that the kid gloves were removed on the first day.  Of course, I am also keenly aware that I've got some guardian angels looking down on me. 

THE Indian Coffee House

I live in extraordinarily lovely home with a very, very kind, and very relaxed family. Sohag and Abhinandan are just a year older than myself and live in Abhinandan's parent's home (he unfortunately lost his parents already, so they live here alone) with their 19 month old son, Adhi, who is an adorable kid with a real skill for breaking electronic things.  Gayatri works in the home . She cleans and takes care of Adhi. Sandhya is the cook who also lives here with her two kids and cooks incredible food for the family each day.  Although there is obvious inequality between my house parents and Sandhya and Gayatri,  I get the sense that this is Sandhya and Gayatri's home as well--they certainly have control of alot around here. Sohag and Abhinanadan are generous, kind and lovely people. They have given me so much and are constantly checking to make sure I am comfortable. They are even allowing Travis to stay here with me, which is very special, and quite unique. But I don't see them much as I see Gayatri, Sandhya and the kids, so I am definitely becoming closer with them than with my host couple. I get to practice my Bangla with them and they are incredibly patient with me. Because they are "serving" me, it feels really strange not to be able to talk to them to any deep degree, so I have an added reason to learn Bangla. It seems to get better every day, and I hope we can develop a real relationship before the end of the summer. It will be fun and challenging to be Travis' translator for them!

Sandhya, Gayatri, Adhi and Sandhya's son

Sandhya's daughter Pinkey

As a researcher, I am overwhelmed by the richness of the religious landscape around me.  It seems as if there are temples and shrines at every step. There is even a thakurghor (shrine room) in my home, in which food is offered to embodiments of divinity and then returned as prosad (the subject of my dissertation). I've even been offered the home's prosad.  As a researcher, I am overwhelmed by everything there is to learn from this place. For Hindus in Cal, God is all around--on street corners, in little shrine stalls, and in massive temples.  For me, God show's God's face in the warmth and generosity of people around me and in the communities that I see on the streets and in homes, and in the answered prayers as I return safely each day. God is alive here for me as a Christian, and as a scholar it is an incredible thing to see how God is alive for others (and to hold those in a mind-bending tension ).  Cal offers so much to think about, so much to challenge me, so much to teach me, so much to fill me.

At the entrance to the thakurghor

And that's just the first week.  I am so thankful to have experienced and learned all I have so far, and to have seen God in answered prayers, kind strangers, and challenges to love and serve.

Dear friends, I miss you so. Please keep the prayers for safety and health going--as you can tell, they are in need daily for this directionally challenged and worrying gal--and any messages of greeting by email. I will post another update in the next week. I love you and am so thankful for the love you have given to me. I hope one day I will have the courage to share your love--which is God's love--with those around me here.