Prem Dan: Day 4

We have our hope in Jesus. 

We have our hope in Jesus.

That all things may be well,

That all things may be well,

That all things may be well,

In the Lord. 2X

We thank we thank we thank you,

We thank we thank we thank you.

We thank we thank we thank you from our hearts!

We thank we thank we thank you,

We thank we thank we thank you. 

We thank we thank we thank you from our hearts.

We love...

Well miss...

That is our morning song routine.

On the last day of volunteering at the homes you are to step forward and be sung to. We did not join that party. We sang to others but did not put ourselves on display. 4 days doesn't need to be recognized.

On the walk in this morning I decided to walk alongside the nameless Irish dude. He is an older, greying gentleman who chivalrously gave me his umbrella when the rain started. He is a high school economics teacher and, what we would call, a VP at a school just outside of London. He is volunteering for a month of his summer holidays. He was here 15 years ago, has volunteered with the missions of charity at an orphanage in Romania and now has returned to Kolkata. His greatest desire is to bring a group of students on a missions trip, ideally to Kolkata. It seems like mission trips are not very common in his area. He teaches at a public school. We chatted about the work I do, about how an Ontario public school board supports a three month immersion program and how local public schools send groups of students on mission trips to Central American and African countries. I told him the process I went through and encouraged him to keep trying. I also told him the first group that goes is key. Not everything will be perfect, people will likely get sick, but the key is that you have people who, despite the negatives, can speak about the trip positively. Then the idea will sell itself each year. Another uplifting and enlightening conversation. The joy of travelling? People.

Much of today was routine but I did learn more about how laundry is done. There is a big step I was not previously aware of: before the laundry goes to the first bin I wrote about previously, it is put in a huge pot above a flame. The laundry is essentially boiled. A lady stokes the fire and keeps it burning with garbage. My job today was to use a stick to remove the boiled laundry from the pot, put it into a bucket and carry the bucket to the first washing stage. When that was done I carried a bucket of laundry upstairs to the line and was quickly recruited by the short local ladies to stay and hang laundry.

I approached today with the goal of doing medical stuff. Yesterday when Amelie told me of the lady with the huge wound on her head, everything in me wanted to see it. I aligned myself with the appropriate people and after laundry I found myself helping out with injuries. I sure didn't know what I was in for. We removed gauze and bandages on multiple open wounds, cleaned them, iodized them and re-bandaged. Most were open cancer-flesh-eating wounds or leprosy. I realized today that unless a steel stomach is something you can develop, I could not actually be a doctor as I once thought I could. I handled 13/14 wounds no problem but one leg wound made me a wee bit woozy. If you want to know more, ask. I shan't explain here. I went outside for 3 minutes and was good. When I returned I actually did all the work for the lady with the massive head wound. I used the scissor-like tongs and put gauze on it like on M.A.S.H. and cleaned the wound, used iodine, cream and re-bandaged it. The sister was a most helpful teacher. The patient was incredibly brave and despite such a large open wound being treated, she didn't flinch or avoid or cry at all. And she is not on strong meds. I LOVED this part of the morning!!!

The rest of the day was routine: I hung out with my thumbs up people and developed a little bit of a handshake between the three of us. A lady kept calling "auntie" (to me) to go over to her because she wanted to give me hugs etc...it was super cute.

I discovered new fun upstairs today. The second floor is similar to the first so I ventured into the sleeping quarters and was greeted with an "¡hola! ¿Como estas?" from across the room. This Bengali woman, Monika, knew some conversational Spanish: super fun.

There were two ladies working on sewing upstairs as well. They live outside of the home but come and sew from 8-5 every day. They were funny ladies. One was 17, sews every day and does not go to school. The other was older and was so cute as she tried to speak English. As usual, conversation quickly went to the fact that I was tall and as per usual: ended with laughter.

I have done a lot of laughing over the past four days. As James McDonald says, attitude really is everything. I am glad Prem Dan was chosen for me. It brought me joy, learning and helped collaborate my life experiences.

I am now writing this from a pew in St. Paul's cathedral in Kolkata. It is a massive, magnificent church (except for the rat that just ran across the sanctuary's marble aisle) and a 45 minute walk from our hotel. It is peaceful here and it is a good way to end the Kolkata experience (as we fly out early tomorrow morning). I have never really sat in a pew outside of formal church services, but being here I can understand why people come here for peace and solace. I get why Kevin came to the church when Marv and Harry (the Wet Bandits in Home Alone) were after him ;)

The Kolkata experience is nearly over. Perfectly timed. Perfectly placed. Important and meaningful. It was good.

Prem Dan: Day 3

No mass today. Bread and bananas at 7. Singing. Walking. Arrived at Prem Dan. That part of today was routine but routine stopped after I left the visitors lounge. I walked around the corner to help with laundry and I almost ran into two men carrying a stretcher with a body wrapped in a white sheet. Someone died in the night.

I was pleased that my two exercise students from Saturday still remembered the thumbs up sign and the props that I taught them. Such special ladies. It is to the point now that I walk in the room for meals and these two, floor squatters, give me the sign with a big smile. People are special!

Maria is my favourite Spanish oriental. She is 24 and is so full of life and smiles and love and enthusiasm. But she's studying marketing business. I took her aside today and told her that if I had kids I would pay all the money I could to have her teach my kids, anywhere from 5-18 years old. She's just lovely. She makes the world a better place. When I started to talk to her about teaching she covered her ears and said, "don't tell me!" I told her I didn't decide until I was 26 that maybe, just maybe I'd be a teacher. All 26 years before that I swore that would never be me. She said "I have two years!" I think I may have struck a chord, just like others did in my earlier journey. And chords should be struck.

Amelie, a lovely 27 year old elementary teacher and philosophy student from Paris, told me one patient here dies each week. She's been here for just over four weeks and that was the fifth stretcher she saw I had my guesses on who it was but, nope, those three ladies were still with us today. Throughout the day a bunch of us volunteers were trying to figure out who died...but we couldn't do it. How sad is that?

Amelie and I chatted for most of today. She is intelligent and talking with her about world and social justice affairs was refreshing and enlightening. How we live our lives is quite similar. She has been a teacher now for two years and vows to spend her summers travelling as long as she is able. We shared travelling stories: she recommended places in Europe as well as Senegal. She is usually drawn to orphanages (like in Senegal) and doesn't like to just travel. She likes to volunteer. She wasnt very familiar with South/Central America so I shared what I knew from there. We talked about a lot of things: how India isn't that different from so many other parts of the world. The root problems seem to be the same but the density of population magnifies things. Kolkata is the physical size of Montreal but has 3 times the people. We talked about how we thought the philosophy behind the missions of charity houses (the 'mother Teresa' homes) needs to be refreshed. What they do is good and needed but it is a bandaid to the problem, is there anyone looking at the problem? Is the Catholic Church content to provide dignity to people but continue to allow such a need for a dignity to be created? Are people investigating hygiene/clean water options? Teaching skills? Working with social norms on the treatment of people? Or are they continuing to pick up the pieces because pieces continue to be created? Amelie and I do not have answers but we sure aren't afraid to ask questions. What these homes do is good and well organized and necessary, but I couldn't be here every day unless I knew there was hope that things might (not even will, might) change.

We also talked about the Chinese proverb, 'give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he'll eat for a lifetime' and we dissected the holes in this thought. (It was at this point that she apologized for being a complaining Frenchman. I said questioning is not complaining). I didnt have any questions for this at first, then amelie told me about how she was at a conference in New York and she spoke with a Kenya man who questioned it.This idea only works if we understand context (those of you who know me know the idea of context makes me happy!) There needs to be a water source with fish. Some of you are likely saying, "that's obvious!" Well, you'd think so but don't give all humans so much credit. The fisherman needs to have hands and he needs to have access to the necessary tools/equipment. Giving a fishing rod (just like handing out tractors in some parts if Africa) is meaningless if, once it breaks, parts can not be replaced. It is similar to giving a fish but it just prolongs the eventual failure. The proverb only works if the man has all the other necessary tools. This seems obvious but in my short international development experience, sometimes the obvious is missed.

Amelie also told me some stories of some of the ladies. There's Theresa who, as an orphaned child, was taken in by the sisters. She's about forty now and is slowly dying of two diseases: cancer and leprosy. Yep, leprosy: that Biblical disease which I as a North American never thought of outside of the New Testament. There are many ladies here with cancer: some treatable, some not. None are receiving treatment. As I said previously, there are at least four women who are the victims of acid attacks but I'm not ready to write that down yet for when I write things, they are no longer ideas or experiences: they are real. As I write about these women they'll become real, but I'm okay with them being "ideas" temporarily. One other lady wears a large bandage on the back of her head, similar to a yamaka (sp?). Amelie tells me that this lady lived on the streets and got a small wound on the back of her head. Then a worm infested it and the hole the worm left behind is massive, bigger than a fist. Apparently you can almost see her brain. When the lady first came, three or so weeks ago, she wouldn't walk or feed herself. She just cried out in pain. Now she does walls around, feeds herself AND I can get her to laugh! This home does have a purpose! Mother Teresa did say she was not a doctor or a social worker, but she was able to give the gift of dignity.

Prem Dan: Day 2

We woke up on time for mass today. At 6am we joined the crew in the chapel, after removing our shoes. It was a regular church service with lots of call and response, singing and symbolic acts. It was a very interesting experience to worship alongside 70 nuns. At one point one younger nun spoke briefly to another but was swiftly admonished by an older nun at the back. It was at that moment that I was re-convicted that I will never be a nun. I found it interesting that three priests came to lead the service and, sadly, I thought one of them was drop dead gorgeous. And that was mass.

After the regular morning routine (bread, bananas, tea and singing) I found my walking crew: an Austrian girl whose name I cannot remember despite her telling me twice, a nameless man from Ireland who I suspect is a teacher and a nameless Spanish dude. Our walk was pretty quiet today and I was okay with that.

We were the first to arrive (there are many other volunteers but they took the bus) and I headed straight to laundry. I began washing the clothes because a) it needed to be done and b) I wanted to protect my princess hands. Although I washed clothes I'm not convinced they actually got clean, but who am I to say? The laundry is first put in a big basin with soap and water. Someone either works through it with their hands or by standing on it. Then it is passed on to the first sink of soapless water. Here it is swashed around a bit, pulled out, wrung a bit and handed to the next sink where the process is repeated. Three sinks in all. After the last sink it is wrung out, put in a bucket and carried up three flights of stairs to the network of clotheslines on the roof.

When I was done washing I went to the roof to help. There was a little lady there (most ladies are little here) who started using me as a teammate: she'd get it ready and pass it to me and I'd throw it on the line. For her shed toss and hope, for me the clothesline was maybe eye level. She said, 'you tall' and laughed. Then she pointed to the other ladies helping and repeated. She started calling me over by saying "tall girl". I returned the favour by calling her "short". She laughed. We laughed a lot actually. She'd be going through the laundry and look up at me and randomly start laughing. She is a patient at the home as saw me yesterday but I guess she never put herself beside me. Tall girl served a purpose today.

Two things: most ladies here speak Bengali so conversations are difficult. There is little English. Also, they and the employees of the home refer to all the volunteers as "auntie". 

Yesterday my size was quickly capitalized on and a role was created for me. A nun was taking a lady to the bathroom and beckoned me to help. Then my role throughout the day became to lift ladies to go to the bathroom, in and out of bed and hoist them in wheelchairs onto the bus to see the doctor. I did enjoy the strength training.

The meals were routine: some ladies on chairs, some squatting on the ground, most eating with their fingers, some who couldn't feed themselves using a spoon. Quiet, considering there's nearly 100 women in the room.

There was no exercise class today because there was a mass for the Catholics at the home. Instead, the non-Catholics and I hung out in the garden. We played games, I made faces, there was massaging of limbs and nail painting. Anything to get a laugh really. I did my best to love on these ladies in any way I could: from soft touch to telling wild stories in English with crazy facial expressions to singing to just being beside a lady. There is no manual on what to do during this time. You kinda gotta just love. "Yesterday is past. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have today. Let us begin".

For a whopping 5 rupees I took the bus home. When I first came to the motherhouse I was annoyed that I could only volunteer for the morning, but now I like the routine. The afternoons are a fun opportunity to explore or chill. I've done a lot of writing catchup, as you can likely tell, and that has been peaceful and has helped me process. I've contributed mainly storied accounts in my posts as the big picture thoughts are still percolating. It's been an interesting two weeks. At this point all I know is that I'm so grateful for my Christian upbringing.

Prem Dan: Day 1

First of all, after a little bit of an adventure we found Domino's pizza and it was lovely. We're likely back to paneer, rice, curry and naan again tonight and that is good too.

Second, I forgot this story on Varanasi day. Traffic in India is nuts and crazy and crazy nuts but so exhilarating. When I travel I am often amazed that i never see accidents. As we were leaving the city we turned right and as we did so all I saw was pink smeared up and slide across the passenger window. A girl on a bike was booking it and ran right into us (keep in mind that in Canada right turns are the 'easy' turns but here right turns are the tricky/cross lane turns).  We stopped. She stopped (she had no choice because she was on the ground). She got up, looked at and then brushed off her elbow and biked off as if she was just fine. I shouldn't find fun in this but I do. Biker coming. Pink on window. Nothing. Pause. Gets up and bikes away. Clearly accidents do happen. 

We were going to go to 6am mass today by weren't out he door by 5:50 as we needed to be and didn't want to be disruptive so we decided to try again tomorrow. 

At 7 we, and all the Mother Teresa home volunteers (because there's seven homes), ate breakfast together: bananas, plain white bread and Indian chai tea (chai tea with boatloads if milk). It is an informal start, people mosey in as they arrive. I quickly counted over seventy people but I wasnt too detailed and I wouldn't be surprised if there were more than 100 folks eating bread and bananas together. 

The three if us sat semi-awkwardly in the corner and I watched the world before me. Many people had their groups. There were lovely greetings between people. I was surprised by how many men there were volunteering, including a 50 something year old man. I was intrigued by the amount of 'middle aged' women there were. I was also in love with all the languages present: Korean or Japanese (or another language I am currently unable to distinguish), Italian, French, English and lovely Spanish. But there was something interesting about this dynamic and ever-fluid community. Even though it is a community with a revolving door, there was something uniting.

A bell was wrung by a sister and we all came to attention. She stood in a chair (she was short. Considering all he nuns Ive met today in Kolkata and years ago in South Africa, I feel like this is a requirement) and spoke about when different language masses would be held, when discussion groups were and when adoration (a silent or semi-silent service I believe) is held. Then she asked all the folks for whom today was their last day to step forward. We all sang a happy/clappy song about how we love them and will miss them. The mood in the room was happy and light although some people in the middle of the circle clearly had a hard time with it being their last day. Then we read a prayer out loud together; it asked God to bless us in our work etc...ill pay better attention tomorrow and give a better recap. Then some folks had signs for each of the seven places; it was a mad scramble where you needed to assert yourself to get to your group, and we were off to the races. Michelle and Teresa's groups took buses there. Most of my group decided to walk in the rain. It was a 20ish minute walk (not sure, didn't pay attention). Then we got to a huge blue and white building and the adventure really began. 

First impression: it is immaculate. Not like an immaculate conception, but immaculately kept. Clean. Organized. Clean. It is the cleanest place I've been in India.

Second impression: it's huge. It apparently houses over 300 folks.

Third impression: I can totally do this. It's kind of old hat which may sound crass and cold, but I saw nothing today that I haven't seen before in Canada or the DR. I take that back. There was one new aspect to today which I'm working on writing a post on: women who've undergone acid attacks. There were four women at my home who were mutilated by acid. Ill explain another time. But overall I'm working at a long term care facility with over 100 women. Some are completely bedridden and, if say, close to death. Most are mobile. Most feed themselves. Some are young with mental issues. For me it was like Dominican orphanage (adult style) plus Christian horizons plus Bradford Place, the old folks home I visited as a child.

The day starts with cleaning: laundry. There's a lot. It's all done by hand. I found myself wringing it out and I learned something about myself: I am a princess. I came home with blisters. Maybe I was just trying really hard as an extra aggressive rinser-outer. I actually was. I am a go big or go home kind of person. Blisters. Super lame-o. I also found myself carrying laundry up three flights of stairs to the roof to hang it on a network of clotheslines. I also found myself wiping down the mattresses and putting clean sheets on over 80 beds. All this took from 8:10-10ish. We motored.

After this the ladies ate breakfast. What a sight! A semi-large rectangular room with many chairs all filled with nearly 100 ladies of various ages, physical abilities and mental capacities and most eating with their hands. Those that werent on chairs squatted on the ground. This and earing with their hands isn't because they're necessarily lower class, that's how it's often done in India. It was a beautifully cute sight.

By the way: no pictures allowed in the mother Teresa homes unless you've been there for a long time, then on your last day you may take pictures. Unfortunately my posts relating to this home will be picture less, just as our Dominican orphanage stories.

After the meal a lady grabbed my hand and we took a walk past the garden. I didn't know what I was in for. There were about 18 ladies, me and two nuns. The 'Maria nun' (because she was a complete fireball) started leading exercises. I was a very enthusiastic helper because keep in mind that many of these ladies shuffle at best. I'd pull some along as we ran laps aka shuffled in a 10 ft long rectangle ;) then we did clapping and arm movements. I was apparently such an enthusiastic participant that the nun got me to lead the rest. So for a good 20 minutes I lead an exercise class. I had the nun howling as well as some of the otherwise stone faced ladies. I was pretty much a party.

Then it turned into craft corner with Rachael. We went to the craft room and the nun gave me blank sheets of paper and told me to draw something so they could colour. Last I checked art wasn't my forte but last I checked I was volunteering to do whatever needed to be done. So my doodling experience came in handy and I created a bunch if colouring sheets. I was fascinated how well some of these ladies followed the lines considering their apparent lack of other motor skills.

The rest if the day was pretty routine I think so ill write about it another day.

Mother Teresa: orientation

Kolkata used to be called Calcutta until 2000 when a motion was passed to change it back to the traditional name of Kolkata. Calcutta was essentially created/expanded by the British as a trading post and my guess is that Kolkata originally existed, the British took the small settlement, created the trading post, changed the name/anglicized the name to Calcutta, the area boomed, the area's trading receded, the British left and the Indians changed the name back to Kolkata in 2000. Just my guess, but it does follow the pattern of so many colonized areas.

This place has volunteer organization down to an art. You are to check in at one of the houses on Mondays, Wednesdays or Fridays at 3pm for orientation. We were there on time and sat at tables and were given two pieces of literature to read. The first was on overview on how to behave in a convent. I didn't think I needed to read it since I have stayed in a convent before (not a lie. Stayed in one in South Africa). But I read it anyways: dress modestly (shirts with sleeves and cover your knees), be quiet, you're a guest in the sisters' homes, be respectful, be on time, you're welcome to come to mass and adoration (don't remember exactly what this is, I think it is an hour of quiet) and other important things I can't remember. It seemed like two full pages of common sense, but clearly it needs to be spelled out in detail as common sense is fast becoming a lost art.

The second sheet was interesting and as I read it, I was convicted that I, an experienced traveller, had in fact been duped. That kid magician in Pushkar? He got us. But at the time we were pretty sure of it anyways, but he put on a good magic show. After reading the sheet at Mother Teresa's, I'm sure he resold that food back to the store...although that's a little bit trickier to do because most of what we bought was in bulk. Regardless, I'm sure he resold what we bought. Oh well. He was good at magic and someone somewhere is a good entrepreneur. Anyhow, the sheet talked about what is really happens in Shudder street here in Kolkata. Kids are hired beggars. There's told/forced to by their parents or like "beggar-pimps". Some kids are even rented from slums. Watch how they target foreigners. The sheet reiterated that when you give food or hand out biscuits you are wrecking the work local NGOs are doing. Saying no, ignoring is not ride. It is helpful. When there is authentic need people will find ways to help themselves. Begging had become so lucrative recently that even school children who's parents worked would ask tourists for money because it was so easy to get. They also told us not to be overly affectionate with the Shudder street children as there is quite the lucrative sex business/child sex abuse thing going on. When foreigners kiss and hug and hold hands with children (not usually a bad thing) it blurs the lines between good touch and bad touch and it adds to the belief by these children that if they give of themselves physically, they'll get something in return. It seems extreme but given the context here, in this community and even in the greater context of what happens in many areas of the world, I can respect this.

We filled in white cards with our names, address, occupation and passport number. A volunteer who had been there for a month and had one month to go have us the lowdown. Most famous internationally is Mother Teresa's home for the dying. She, and the sisters, actually run seven homes. There is the most famous home for the dying (Kalighat) with about 80 beds but there's also an adult long-term care facility (Prem Dan) with 300 beds. My understanding is that the folks here aren't as close to death but aren't far away either. Not sure, really, as there was only a brief description for each. The other five homes are for mentally and physically disabled children and adults of various ages and various capacities.

Essentially you choose what home you'll volunteer at and there is no switching between homes. In July and August they have the most volunteers so we have been asked to only volunteer for the morning. The volunteer also said that we would likely be exhausted if we volunteered all day. We wait in line to talk to a sister. She takes our cards and asks us where we want to volunteer. Michelle and Teresa said they didn't care. I said I have experience working with disabled children (Dominican orphanage) so I would prefer to work with adults. I was then assigned to work at Prem Dan: the place with 300 adults. Teresa is (we think) working with teenage girls and Michelle is at Kalighat - the home for the dying. We are welcome to meet for mass at 6am followed by breakfast and then all the volunteers will break into their separate home groups and travel by bus, we think, to get there. We will work from 8-12 and the three of us are secretly hoping to be allowed back from 3-5:30. At all facilities well help with laundry, dishes and feeding and Michelle and I will likely be involved with massaging limbs and changings as well.

This is where my blog gets honest: at first my gut reaction was to be jealous that Michelle got to go to Kalighat. That lasted maybe three minutes. As we were walking back to our hotel I almost hit myself. I should have really. How friggin selfish and poorly motivated am I? Wow! Do I want to go because that home is the most 'famous' or because dying intrigues me? It didn't take me long to see that my gut reaction was selfish. I already limited my volunteer possibilities by saying I wanted to work with adults. If I am here to serve, let me serve. I thought of what ive spent five years trying to tell my iBlock students and i remembered how frustrated I am when they roll their eyes or make faces or ask to do a different job or go to a different rotation. Now my initial reaction was to do the same. Shit Rachael, seriously? So I'm good. Im glad it took only a couple of minutes for a perspective change. I could have kept this all secret but my blog is my online journal that I happen to choose to share and I want this journal to be authentic so welcome to my thought process. IBlock students: im not perfect either, i understand your frustrations! 

I'm going to hang out at Prem Dan with folks who are there because they're destitute. They my be farther from death than the other home, but there are still going to have sheets that need to be washed. Boy that sounds ridiculous.

On to first world problems: we crave pizza. I know it's only been 11 or so days since we've been gone but it's time to break up the regular menu (because there are only so many vegetarian options one can choose). There is a Domino's 1.9 miles away and a Pizza Hut 1.3 miles away. We're gonna find ourselves a rickshaw and indulge.

Varanasi: leaving

We were essentially in Varanasi from 7am until our train left in the evening.

We had an 8:15 train and we were at the train station by 6:45. Afterall as our driver said, "you can wait for a train but the train won't wait for you". It had rained significantly so the dry floor sitting options were limited, especially given the amount of orange travellers. We found a place and parked ourselves on our bags. Waiting can be fun. Waiting until 11:45 for an 8:15 train loses its charm after a bit. Rain delays, I suppose. Some interesting things did happen: there was a persistent beggar boy who was very good at being dramatic by pointing to his belly and putting his fingers to his mouth for food. We didn't budge. We entertained ourselves by watching the many mice and rats in action on the tracks. We were also quite the show for many passing men. We were dressed in capris and tshirts but we still drew a boatload of attention. So we played it up a bit to the guys on passing trains who had no hope of seeing us again ;) When one train was stopped a mouse was flung at us. I didn't understand right away what was happening but then I realized the mouse landed on the concrete in its belly with its arms and legs to the side so he clearly did not climb up from the tracks. Then I saw smiles from boys on the train and I clued in. Thanks for the gift, boys. Unfortunately for them I didn't react too excitingly: I just stood up and shooed it away.

After over five hours if waiting and a nearly four hour delay we boarded. This train was better than the last as all beds were only two high. We each had our little compartment with our own curtain and we slept the night away...fetal position for me and more comfortably for Michelle and Teresa.

And then we arrived in Kolkata, found a hotel, checked in and went to volunteering orientation.

Varanasi: Round Three

Warning: this one might be gross to some people

The final thing we saw in Varanasi was death-related. I knew they burned bodies and released the ashes into the Ganges (where, as a refresher, people drink and bathe). I wanted to see it, so we did. 

We walked through an alley that looked normal until we saw the mound of tree branches. We kept going towards the river. There were men, a fire, a stretcher and a body draped in a white cloth. According to custom when someone does they are to bathe the body in the Ganges, there is a ceremonial concoction of roots etc...prepared, there is a relatively long routine, the body is burned and the ashes are released into the ocean. Again, this is all in attempt to assuredly reach Nirvana since the ashes flow in a river that flows opposite to others. We did not see an entire ceremony, we did not feel right about that. We did see the site and the body and that was enough. We saw other burn sites ready to go as well. Powerful stuff, death is.

Varanasi: Round Two

Varanasi is known for its silk, apparently, so Teresa and I supported the local economy and bought some silk scarves. After seeing the factories and looms on which they are (apparently) created I gained a new appreciation for the work that goes into them.

The Ganges (or Ganga) is the holiest river in India because it flows in the opposite direction if all the other rivers And it is therefore believed that it leads to Nirvana (the ultimate 'heavenly' place where you are at peace and are no longer part of the caste system). 

The river that we saw was filthy brown but that did not stop people from bathing in, drinking from, and brushing teeth with it.

We went on a boat ride down the Ganges. Despite the intense heat, intense, it was a sweet experience as we saw Varanasi from a new angle: water level. We were toured around in a rickety old boat that was fueled by one guy. Neat authentic experience.

After this we headed to the most popular place on the river. It was super crowded because of the shiva festival. Orange filled the place. There were celebrations on the river, bathing and holy men vying for your attention. It was neat to just sit and watch. A man beside me was creating an offering of sorts: a stick decorated with flowers and other offering-worthy things complete with plastic jugs attached to it. My guess is that it would be released into the river. A vendor tried to sell me stuff. But I refused. Then they wanted to bless me. I said no. She said it would be good luck. I said I didn't need luck and she was astonished and didn't even want to hear it. She said "well you coming to Varanasi is good luck". I repeated that I didn't need luck, smiled and walked away. In hindsight, as I write this, I realize I should have been more forthcoming and bold and explained why I didn't need luck. I didn't suppress the truth I know, it just didn't come to my brain. As I watched the holy happenings at this holy river I was most intrigued by the folks in white at the top of the stairs. Hindus are generally in orange here. White is the Muslims. They were at the stairs where the Hindus would leave the river, directly but peacefully in their path. The muslims had literature and were essentially being missionaries to the Hindus. I don't know why this fascinated me so. Possibly because I only ever pictured Christians as missionaries/evangelists. Possibly because I so often see Hindus and Muslims as equal 'thems' in the 'us and them' worldview and here they are opposites, opposing each other. Possibly because I see it is the blind lesson the blind. Yep, I just wrote that. In this postmodernist culture where absolute truth is unpolitical, I just stated it. I believe I know the truth and the more I am here the more my heart aches for the bajillions of Muslims and Hindus who believe their future glory is based on their works, their hours, their offerings and their routines. As I observe, reflect, write and share I am becoming more and more assured in the truth I have been taught. Life here seems so empty and meaningless, to the point that I am becoming frustrated by it after a mere ten days. Grace really is amazing.

Varanasi a wee bit and an intro into Hinduism

If you've seen the movie 'Water' then this town may resonate with you. If you haven't seen that movie, you should.

Pic from iloveindia.com

We started our tour of Varanasi (northwest India) by visiting the local university which is the biggest university in Asia. A dude wanted to start a university so he asked the government for land to do so. They told him he could have as much land as he was able to walk around between sunrise and sunset. He got a 10km piece for the school: good on you fine sir!

We then went to two Hindu temples. They were similar to many of the others I've described: take your shoes off, people bring lots of offerings, many little idol/temple/shrine things. Everything about the temples was detailed and ornate just not always maintained. Since Varanasi is an extremely holy place for Hindus, I should explain what I know about Hinduism. Much of this I learned from Joseph (the student I met up with on Monday), our driver and trying to find my own answers at night on the interweb. Please don't take this as gospel truth.

- the red dot on the forehead (bindi) used to symbolize that a woman was married. It has become more if a beauty symbol now and it can not be assumed that all women who have it are married. It is also said to ole the brain and bring peace

- feet are dirty hence taking shows off. In fact, if your foot touches someone else you are to apologize.

- orange is a holy colour. The sea of orange folks at the train station were dressed in the holy colour because I the Shiva festival which is happening now

- people colour their hair orange for this same reason

- Hindus but orange and pink flowers, little white balls and other things from vendors outside of temples. They use these things as offerings for the gods. It is then someone's job in the temple to sweep up all this stuff after its presented. It isn't used long.

- there are bells above to ring when you enter. Ringing the bell is good luck.

- it is all about good luck/good karma

- people wear red arm bands (looks essentially like string) to keep bad karma away

- there are two main symbols: the ohm and the swastika. What floors me is how many people have bonuses the Germans did not create this symbol. Before Nazi Germany existed the swastika (sanskrit) was in multiple countries/religions (Buddhism and Jainism too I believe) and it literally means "to be good"

Pic from pieceofmindblog.wordpress.com

- there are three main gods, like the trinity if Christians. Brahma: created the world. Vishnu: maintains the world (Vishnu is a very popular name in the Indians I have worked/interacted with). Shiva: god if destruction, can take away bad things

- Krishna is the incarnation of Vishnu, he's super good/revered/important to Hindus (Krishna/Krishnan is a very popular last name in Indian culture: aka Sunder Krishnan, pastor of Rexdale Alliance)

- cows are holy because Krishna rode them. Hindus do not eat beef (can't find it anywhere here) and, as I've explained previously, cows roam freely

- an area outside of Jaipur was flooded recently. Krishna used to live there. He must be angry with the people there.

- there are boatloads of different gods: I've heard there's about 300 million. There is literally a god for everything.

- you choose which god/gods you serve. Taxis will have different images on their cars. People have different 'shrines' in their houses. That is why at all of these temples there are little shrines and holy men along the way: they can all call on different gods on your behalf.

- incense is common, another way to worship/offering

- Ganesh is probably the most common: he has a human body but an elephants head. He is good luck and he is everywhere: in hotel lobbies, on our drivers car dash, taxies. Everywhere. It is said that he was born to Shiva (I think) but then shiva left for years. He came back to see his wife but Ganesh, his son that he didn't know, stood guard at the door and did not let Shiva in. Shiva was furious and cut off his head. When he later realized that was his son he vowed to replace his head with head of the next animal that crossed his path. This happened to be an elephant. This is Ganesh.

- as people enter the temples they'll touch the stairs and then pray etc...and that is a sign of respect for the god of the temple

The Shiva festival is going on right now where basically villagers travel miles to go to shiva temples and worship. They all come dressed in orange (holy colour). Shiva is the one who can take away bad. 

In Varanasi the two temples we went to were the shiva and the Durga temples. The shiva one was busy and many, many offerings were being given. Durga has many arms and is, I think, the god of health.

Who knew I'd learn so much over my summer holidays? I'd like to think of it as my unique professional development.