Drums and Garlands

While we pulled into the train station at Gwalior, we stood in the aisles and waited to hurry off. Somehow, I was the first of our group out of the car. I looked ahead to find a familiar face in the crowd. There was Sunil Sardar, the director of Truthseekers, dressed in his impressively bright teal kurta and round, flat hat that looked a little like a one-layer cake perched on his head, in only the most dignified way, of course. The commotion of the crowd was layered with undertones of drum beats. Feeling stared at, I dodged strangers to catch up with Sunil.

As I approached him, short men with beards dressed in bright orange clothes and turbins, greeted Sunil emphatically, decorating him with garlands. When a man would add another garland, Sunil would return it, honoring him instead. The garland would go back and forth until someone accepted it humbly. I stood a few feet back, apprehensive and wondering if the others were behind me. The men in orange greeted me next. Out of reflex and knowing no other response, I looked into one man's joy-filled eyes as he laid a garland around my neck and gave me a bit of his enthusiasm.

The men moved on to greet the others, not far behind me. We clumped together better to walk to the lobby of the train station. As we walked, the drums grew louder. I noticed a man in a uniform with a gun flanked Sunil. Is that a good sign or a bad sign? . The crowd opened up and watched as we went by. Our energy was high. I couldn't feel the concrete beneath my feet. I felt like I was floating along, being held up by some invisible force.

Through the lobby, the drums echoed loudly and followed us outside. In the street we were herded around jeeps and corralled into the back seats. "Get in, get in!" someone shouted. So, I got in. Not knowing where we were going or who was driving, I used my best split-second decision making skills and jumped in the back of a jeep that had a man from our group already in it. Three girls followed me. I didn't know where Molly, my designated buddy was, so I just hoped she was in another jeep (she was). We four girls crammed in the very back, where two small bench seats faced each other. Knees bumping, sweating bullets in the close, enclosed quarters, we laughed about how crazy the honored greeting was and admired the orange, red, yellow, white flowers on our garlands.

The jeeps peeled away and trucked down the road. A little outside Gwalior, we stopped at a white building. It was cool inside. Minutes later, we went to another room where we drank soda and met the people who were hosting the event that day -- the men in orange and some college students from the area who had recently become involved with Truthseekers.

Soon enough, we were off again. Back into the cramped jeeps. This time, I heard Sunil say that every car should have at least one man. I sat in the middle row, between Boaz and a young Indian woman. Boaz talked with Noel about all sorts of the issues of the country. I don't remember exactly what now, but at the time, it was very enlightening.

On the way we made various stops for unknown reasons, each time we thought it might be time to get out and eat lunch. We were wrong. It was never lunch time that day. Good thing Boaz gave us some granola bars.

We bumped and jostled around, windows down and dust blowing, for at least two hours out into the country. We passed straw huts, saw many water buffalo (and round, dung patties, which Boaz said he has made before). We passed sugar mills and brick factories, which Boaz said are the types of places that use child slaves. During one stretch, the car for Sunil and his armed escort rang a siren. Later, we learned the area was bandit territory, and the sirens signified military escort. I guess that warns the bandits...

Eventually, we reached our destination. *They brought us to a room with a bed in it first and told us to sit down and relax. All 15 of us crowded in, some on the bed, some standing. We regrouped and talked briefly about who would speak at the foot-washing ceremony, which came sooner than we anticipated.

Minutes later, we filed out of the room and walked down the road. It felt like a parade. Chains of people walked on the outside of the streets while we walked down the center. It was hot out. Soft, sticky tar filled the cracks in the pavement. I stepped in some, leaving a print of the bottom of my Keen sandals on the road.

We walked up a dirt drive way to a big white tent, like the kind at out-door wedding receptions. We went onto the stage to sit. The gathering was large, the biggest ceremony of the week. People crowded in. We crowded on the stage with the musicians and some of the hosts. I sat cross-legged. The tar from the road that was stuck on my sandals stuck on my cream-colored, breezy pants. Bummer.

As the Sunil spoke, Boaz kept chatting. I felt a little less guilty about spacing out in Introduction to the Bible on occasion... He showed me how to write my name in Hindi, then asked me for the rest of the team's names so he could write them out.

It grew hotter and hotter. Tarps on either side of the stage blocked any breeze. Everything felt close.

After Sunil preached and people shared testimonies, the foot-washing began. First, women were invited up. We Western women kneeled to wash their feet. We prayed over them as we washed. A young man translated for me as I spoke. The women wore rings on their toes. One had pink dye on the soles of her feet. It rubbed off onto my hands. When I was finished, the women stood, we bowed saying "Namaste" and then hugged.

There were many more Indian men present than women, and fewer Western men than women, making the foot-washing for the men last long. I sat towards the back of the stage with some other girls. Men nearby stared at us while we ate chocolate "energy" bars and ketchup flavored potato chips. We played a little with an adorable little boy. He had huge brown eyes and a sweet smile. I gave him my garland and some cookies. I think the older men were jealous of the attention we gave him.

And suddenly, it was time to go.



*It's very blurry to me when this part actually happened. It could have been part of the other building, but I can't seem to find exactly where it fits.

To Gwalior

Wednesday morning we rose before dawn. We left the hostel at 5 am, meaning we had to be out of bed and ready before 5 am. Our bodies were so confused with the time change that we were all awake that early anyway.

We climbed onto our chartered bus, which would become a place of comfort by the end of the week because we spent so much time on it. Out the windows, the city was waking. Some still slept... on sidewalks, at bus stops, in truck beds piled with packages. The hard hostel bed that made my hips feel bruised started to seem pretty cushy. At least it was quiet and private (although we did have some interesting visitors banging on our door the first night to claim belongings they had left behind). But, the streets were busy. Rickshaws sped about and vendors vended along the sidewalk.

When we arrived at the New Delhi train station, we left our safe bus and entered the busy, dark city streets. Headlights blinded me and horns confused me. Following my designated buddy Molly, I ran into an ungrateful rickshaw. That's embarrassing.

Inside, the train station was as busy as Union Station on a typical weekday, even at 5:30 am. The entrance was white stone. People stood around. We weaved our way through the crowd, stepping around people lying on the ground. The tracks were less busy, but still hopping for early morning. We waited for the 6 o'clock train to Gwalior, a city about four hours south Delhi, a few stops past Agra.

We took the first class train, with glass windows instead of bars and assigned seats instead of cramming on. It was pretty much like any Amtrak or Metra train. Our group sat in sections in two different cars. We were served breakfast and chai as we watched slums and fields go by, still an introduction to the sights we would see that day.

The Sikh Temple

After visiting the slum and having lunch at the YMCA, we toured the Sikh temple. You've probably seen Indian men depicted wearing turbans-- that is traditional Sikh dress. Sikhism believes in equality of all people and rejects the caste system. They believe there is one God. Their name means "learner" or "disciple." Each Sikh temple has a place of worship and study where the holy book is kept, a kitchen that serves food 24/7 to anyone who comes, a bathing pool, and accommodations. The kitchen of this temple feeds 20,000 people a week. I think our churches should do more things like the Sikh kitchen.

The temple itself was beautiful, all white stone. Inside there was a big altar of sorts with the holy book on it. There were musicians playing instruments, and people would come in, kneel, and pray. It wasn't a service with a specific time; people just came and went as they wanted. There was no corporate worship, only individual, which is interesting to me, considering Sikhism is "anti-caste." Even though they believe in equality, there is not a united time of worship. People keep to themselves... to their castes?

Boaz's Slum

The morning of Day 2 in India, we traveled to the slum where Boaz lived from birth until he was 15 years old. Although 90% of the slum has been demolished and the (former) residents have been pushed out of the city, the shanty he lived in remains as well as the temple across the narrow alley. Outside the cement walls of the slum was a busy street, full of vendors and traffic and noise, women and children sitting on the sidewalk. It reeked of excrement.

I was hesitant to enter. Boaz had told us how the narrow streets would be packed with people, but when we entered, it was quiet and peaceful, even, compared to outside. There were many fewer residents, which obviously explains the lack of people. I felt strange entering this community unannounced, a large group of people who clearly were not locals.

Boaz led the way through the alley until we met some people and reached his old house and the temple. They let us into the temple to see. There was a large statue and altar. We took our shoes off to enter. The people were excited to show us. A young woman gave some of us girls bindis, the red dot on the forehead that is a blessing of a Hindu god. I wasn't sure I wanted to be blessed by any god who ordains inequality, but the women had hospitable intentions. Later Boaz told us that when he was a child, there were all night prayer vigils when women would go in and be possessed by spirits. Their voices would get low, almost like a man's voice, and they would tell people things like who should marry whom.

We walked further until we came to the part that had been destroyed. It was just dirt and rubble. We walked across the street to a hospital and a women's medical school. We talked to some students there, but were shooed away by the administration because we didn't have permission to be talking to her students, so we went back to the slum.

On our way out, we met the family who lives were Boaz lived. They let us come in and see it. They've expanded the house, so now it has four rooms instead of two. We talked there and all crammed into their bedroom to sit while we waited for the chai to be made. When it was ready, we sat on the ground in the temple and drank the chai and ate some food (I can't remember what it's called).

Contrast # 1: The administration of the school kicked us out, but the people of slum welcomed us and fed us, though they have very little.

And that was just the morning...

Day One

After 15 hours on a plane, we arrived in New Delhi. We met Kyle and Noel, who started the North American branch of Truthseekers and guided us throughout the week. First, we went to the hostel where we stayed. It was in the Embassy district of Delhi, so the area was pretty quiet and "high rent," which seems odd for a hostel. We checked in and went to bed. We had two rooms for six girls each and one room for the three boys. The girls' rooms had their own bathrooms, which was really nice. The beds had really thin mattress pads and made my hips feel bruised in the morning, but they got magically more comfortable as the week went on.

So, Monday morning we had breakfast at the cafeteria in the hostel and then went to the Truthseekers office for orientation and "stay awake day." We learned about the caste system and the mission of Truthseekers. Here are some broken down facts about the caste system:
- There are four main castes (from top to bottom): Brahmin (priests/government), Kshatriya (warriors/military), Vaisyas (mechants/business), and Shudra (Other Backwards Castes).
- The top 3 castes are 9% of the population
- a little more than 50% are Other Backwards Castes (OBCs)
- of the OBCs, there are 6000 subcastes, which keeps them from joining together
- the other 40% of people are Outcastes or Untouchables
- the caste system is constitutionally illegal, but the social structure is ingrained in the hearts and minds of the Indian people.
- the inequality of the caste system is by divine order, according to the Hindu religion
- there is no way to move higher in your lifetime, though a person can be born into a higher caste in their next life if they are good in this life
- the caste system is over 3000 years old

There is much more to the caste system, but I don't the half of it. What Truthseekers exists to do is to point the way to freedom for lower caste and out caste people by presenting the Gospel and washing feet as Jesus washed his disciples' feet. We learned about some reformers who influence Truthseekers, an important reformer being a man named Phule. He is important because he drew a connection between a low-caste story of a Sacrificed King (Bali Raja) who would some day come and sacrifice himself so the people could be free and Jesus Christ. Social activist and Truthseeker Sunil Sardar explains, "We are not beginning a new work, but joining Jesus Christ in what He is already doing, and expanding on what He has already revealed to His people in India."

We were introduced to the Truthseekers staff and Sunil, and we ate and sang songs and got to know each other.

Reflection

My week in India was a whirl-wind experience. The trip was surreal, and after only a week of being there, it's difficult to adjust back to life here. For one thing, there's a 12 hour time difference. Who goes to the other side of the world for a week? The exhaustion is well worth the experience, though. The days were long and intense. I had never seen such poverty or understood the reality of systemic injustice. They are no longer abstract words -- I've come face-to-face with them and looked them in the eye. I've walked their streets and washed their feet.

I think I'll try to go through day by day, or parts of days, to share more specific details of the trip progressively, so stay tuned.

10 Days

Well, in ten days, I'll be in India. Over the last seven weeks, our team has been learning about the culture and praying about the trip. There are 14 students going (three guys... welcome to North Park) along with Professor Boaz Johnson, who grew up in India. We are very excited to be in India, though maybe not so excited about the 18-hour plane ride or 12-hour time difference.

By serving with TruthSeekers, our team has the opportunity to reach the marginalized people of India. As Jesus served his disciples in John 13, we will serve low caste Indian people through foot washing. We will be able to help reconcile the castes with the message of truth and love.

Here is a link to a video made by TruthSeekers to explain why foot-washing is such a powerful action to the people of India.