Hello world! I know it’s been a while, but internet is a hard to come by commodity around here. So get comfy and grab some chai and biscuits while I give you a run down of what has gone on for the last month.
So after a thrilling six days in our apartment, we took a little trip. This trip was supposed to be a week, but two new suits, not nearly enough showering, and too much experience with a squatty, it ended up being over two weeks.
We left our closed up city to head for another city about a 35 minute plane ride away. There had been some intense flooding there and we were hoping to do some relief work with another worker that lived there. Kallie and I headed to the airport with Jane (one of our supervisors). When we got to the airport she made sure that we had some ID with us. Both of us panicked for a second. We had totally forgotten about that! Kallie luckily had some ID, but I realized that I did not. We went ahead through the first checkpoint anyway and just planned to drive back to the apartment to get mine after that. Let me just take this moment to say that if you think that US airport security is intense, you have no idea what you’re talking about. My suitcase set off the alarm at that first checkpoint. They asked me if I had any toys in my bag to which I gave them a blank stare. Then they clarified that batteries had probably set it off, but we had to find the batteries. I had thrown some in as extras for my camera right before we left so I set to digging through my suitcase, trying to discreetly cover the unmentionables in my bag I had so cleverly packed on the top. I dug through my stuff probably for five minutes and had not found the batteries yet. So a female (thank goodness) security officer came over to help me out and began piling all of my stuff on the table with no regard for what was being set out in the open for all to see. She specifically examined one particular item. They don’t have those here. She asked me if they were candy. Some of you may know what I’m talking about. Eventually, we found the batteries and my passport! I had tucked it in there at some point. So too many undergarments set out for all to see later, we had my ID at least and could proceed to the rest of airport security. Later in security everything was taken out of my purse that I was bringing as a carry-on. If you’ve ever explored the contents of my purse, I’m sure you can imagine the random things that were set out on the table. The security officer was a little disturbed about the superglue that she could not get out of a pocket in my purse.
We flew to our destination being a little afraid of the plane running into one of the huge Himalayan mountains we were flying right beside. Our first day was pretty much spent resting because of the high altitude. The other days were mostly spent resting because the people there didn’t really need our help. There was relief from all parts of the world heading there! We did some good shopping though. Shops were open which is a new experience for us! At the end of our five days there, we decided that perhaps our purpose was to encourage the worker there. She was having a rough time, but she was happy to have our company. In this city, there are many foreigners so we got to wear our jeans, shorter shirts, and the big one- no dupattas!
Our supervisors husband, James, meanwhile had been spending his time in a small village several hours away from us. This village had been hit hard by flooding and there was very little relief work being done there. So we decided to head to a city near there where there was a school to work in, eventually hoping to head to the village. This area was very different from our little vacation spot. It is a very conservative community where we would be wearing our full suits all of the time and keeping our heads covered.
We took a nine hour dusty taxi ride from our happy vacation area to a city we’ll call Kar. To get an idea of what this drive was like, imagine the worst dirt road you’ve ever been on, multiply that by ten, and there you have about 80% of our journey. Kar is not our favorite place in the world. It’s in the midst of the Himalayas, which are cool and all, but this particular section of them is more like giant mounds of dirt and dust than the regal snow-covered mountain tops you are probably imagining. Also Kar probably has a 100:5 man to woman ratio in the main market- definitely a little different from SBU. Let’s just say that these hundreds of men don’t see foreign women very often. We kept our heads covered and dressed like everyone else, but they always still know we do not belong. So they do one of three things: look away (a rare, but appreciated pious choice on their part), stare-not just a blank stare, but a “I am watching your every move and would not stop looking if you yelled at me in my native tongue” stare- (definitely my favorite), and finally there’s the option of speaking to us (yet another favorite). Pick-up lines for foreign women are incredibly clever here so listen up boys! We have the simple “hello,” “hey,” or for the very educated in the English language, “hi.” Sometimes they add a “madam” to the end of it to increase their respectfulness. By far the best one we often here is, “hello, hey, from where are you.” “From where are you sir?” would be my favorite response, but there’s no need to encourage them.
We spent some time in Kar working at a school run by a man who likes to have his was a lot. This man actually encouraged us to walk around the town in American dress. He specified that jeans and tank tops with our hair blowing in the wind would be fully acceptable.
Oh and I almost forgot! The day after we arrived in Kar we went to get some suits made. We did not exactly pack for conservativeville, because we only intended to stay in the first place we went for one week then head back to our city. We were led to the most wonderful little tailor man I have yet to meet. We sat in his very busy shop for a while waiting to be measured for some new suits. While waiting I began to feel nauseated. Long story short, after another hour, we went back to the hotel where I laid down. Not long after that I began throwing up. This continued for the rest of the day. We decided it was because of the drive the day before.
Mr. wonderful tailor man did make me the best-fitting suits I have had thus far. I am quite grateful for that.
After a few days in Kar we decided we would head out to the village for the weekend. James surprised us in an internet café and we rode with him and two other girls out to the village the next day. This is a three hour bumpy journey through the giant mounds of dirt and dust.
So now we have arrived to by far the best part of our whole experience- the village. I’ve always wanted some good village experience, and I feel like I got it. The Father I think really gave me a heart for these people who live in the middle of nowhere. This village, we’ll call Neis, does not have any running water, we did not have a toilet inside or really a toilet in general, no showers, no hot water, no beds, and no electricity. To be fair, they often have electricity, but because of the flood, there was not any. Thus, during my time in Neis, I set a new personal record for not showering- if you knew how cold the water was you would not blame me. I conquered my fear of the squatty potty. I got really good at wearing a head covering. I harvested wheat by hand. Finally, I got to do dishes in a stream flowing out of the mountains, and I got to share with several people about the true love of our Father.
Neis was not an easy place to live for obvious reasons. Furthermore, people were always watching us there. Foreigners had never really spent much time out there, and these people would qualify for the most part as unreached. There were these children who liked to always stand and watch us. We’d try to talk to them, but often they would just stand and stare. Eventually, with some fun games and interesting things like pictures and make-up I became close with some of these little girls who were always watching us and always interested. There were times when they drove me a little nuts, but for the most part I enjoyed the fun times I had with them even with our many communication barriers.
They practice a more intense form of Is in Neis. They have this structure which was destroyed by the flood where they have special celebrations. At one of these celebrations, the people beat themselves in repentance and shame. They make themselves bleed because they do not know of the perfect blood that has atoned for their misdoings. Even small children do this. One day I asked the group of girls that came and played with me in the afternoons about this. Using many hand motions and broken Urdu and English they described this all to me. After that they sang me a traditional song they would sing during a time like this I think. One of the girls acted as the leader and did the lead part, and all of the other girls did the responsive parts. As they sang they pretended to cry and beat their chests and backs, all the time laughing about it. I have to say it was a little shocking. First of all, they don’t take all of this seriously. It’s just something they have to do. Second, none of this is odd to them, it’s all completely normal. After they finished their song I asked them about it. They said it was from the holy book. I told them I did not know much about that because I do not follow their religion. They looked at me curiously and I told them that I am a follower of the Son. After this, the oldest girl of the group asked me simply, “so you believe the Son is G-d?” I said yes. Her question probably does not reflect my same understanding of that statement. It has probably been shaped by teachings she’s heard from people that someone like me believes in three gods, but perhaps not. All of the other girls started chatting very quickly about this in their native tongue which I don’t understand at all. The girl who asked the question just sat there and stared at me looking a little confused and surprised. Neither of us knew enough of the other’s language to truly communicate about all of this. I do know though that at least they know who I am and that I showed them a lot of love during that time.
The two men that shared their house with all of us also offered many good conversations. We cleared up our beliefs about the Son and His creation. Many have been taught that we believe very differently about this than we do. Also, I got to talk a long time with one about the problem of s-n and the separation it creates between us and the Father. I described that we need a bridge to get to the Father. This seemed like a good analogy because of the recent flooding that had destroyed roads and bridges. I said that the many good things we do are like an uncompleted bridge. There may be a lot built on it, but you still can’t get to the other side. He is a very devoted Mus. We will soon be able to visit him and his family who live very near our city. I don’t believe our time with him is done yet.
One other woman expressed a large amount of interest in what we were teaching. We talked for a long time with her and I got to share my story in the language I’m learning. She was even reading some of the Word that we had given to her.
Many people in this village learned of someone they knew very little about. For most of them, they had been incorrectly informed if they had any knowledge about Him or about we who follow them. Finally, a large number of people accepted the Word that our supervisor was handing out. I trust in those Words far more than my own.
My time in Neis really reassured me that it is the Father and His Spirit which do the work. He draws people to Himself. None of my own wisdom will ever do it. He may use me, but the people of this village that I feel such a love for are completely in His hands. It’s one of those things I’ve always known, but had never truly felt.
At the end of our time, there began some problems. The religious leaders started telling people to not talk to us. The two men who took us in were being treated disrespectfully. The last night, the girls that I usually played with in the afternoons and evenings did not come. However, a couple stopped and said goodbye to me as they were on their way to all night pr-yer.
We spent one final night in Kar after driving from Neis and headed home. The trip home took about ten hours of driving through the more beautiful parts of the Himalayas. I saw my first glaciers. We also drove far closer to the edge of a cliff than I am comfortable with. It was a beautiful trip though. I’ll try to get pictures up at some point.
So now we are back in our city trying to figure out what to do. This week things have been pretty open because of the big holiday at the end of Ramadan. Everybody is preparing! I desperately want to meet the people in our neighborhood. I enjoyed so much sharing with people in the village and am searching out those opportunities here.
Yesterday we laid carpet in our house. It is scrap carpet from other people. Needless to say it does not look fantastic. We’re going pillow shopping soon! In a few minutes we’ll be leaving to teach English with the girls in our other community. We are back to normal life again.
