Truth in Action

Looking at all of my recent posts, I think I said the word “I” over 200 times. Of course there is nothing wrong with that since a blog is about my interpretations, but today it feels a little ingenuine to look back at all of my blogs and see me as the center. It gives of a false illusion that I am the one doing a lot for this community. In truth, this community is doing more for me than I could possibly do for it. The Hostel ‘s schedule is also my schedule.  The church and school communities I am a part of have embraced me. I take daily walks through a Dalit community that is constantly reaching out to me. These surrounding and people are truly the reason why my time in India is so challenging and simultaneously so rewarding.

School is an illuminating experiment in our “ministry of presence”, because it requires me to constantly adjust my lessons for each class. They are all so different. The students have been slowly reaching out more and more to me about what they like, what they understand, and what they really don’t.

Last week it became apparent how quickly the next three months will move. School ends on the last week of March, so there is very little time left during this school year. My reaction to this feeling of a time crunch was to plan, plan, and plan some more. Now that my health and energy levels are up, I would like to be more fully engaged in all of the things that I play an active role in here. Some of this planning will be successful, and some of it might not. I have become content with that fact. The challenge of re-prioritizing is becoming much easier recently.

Hostel life is generally pretty low-key right now, aside from the random conflicts that sometimes emerge. Our hostel warden has many opinions about the girls including how they communicate with people, their habits, and what they wear. For example, at my hostel the girls must sleep in salwars and when they go outside they must be wearing a shawl. They are also not allowed to have cell phones or any access to a television.  We only have a phone that accepts incoming calls. Parents put their children in this hostel mainly so that they can improve their studies. These rules intend to ensure that the girls only focus on studying.

The rules have weight, and Mariamma Kochamma’s control over them is very strict. Some days that strictness comes across as compassion, and sometimes it is more intense than that.  Overall though, she is looking out for their well-being. It is sometimes difficult for me to understand the amount of shouting that goes on here at the hostel. It doesn’t just come from Kochamma. The girls often shout at each other.

I have definitely had to change my conception about shouting always coming from a place of anger. Most of the yelling that goes on here doesn’t really negatively affect relationships. On the contrary, shouting means that you are invested in the person, and you really care about whatever they are doing. Once a shouting match is over, the girls go directly back to being best friends. I am not fully adjusted to that cultural element yet, but I am making some progress. I just have to keep reminding myself that shouting is not always cruel. It can be a stern and guiding hand at times.

The Children’s hostel is right next door to the TTC hostel I live in. The young girls especially need love. Many of them will live in this hostel for years, knowing nothing but this strict scheduled life. Some may say it will make them more disciplined in the future, but I am always an advocate for letting kids act like kids. We play lots of games together, and they freely voice their problems to me. Many of them lived in a bad family environment before they came here, but they still ache for home. The girls are always telling me things like “my mother was going to come, but I got no call from her. I am very sad.”

So I focus a lot of my time on them because they need to know that it’s okay to want to run around and play games all the time when you are 10 years old. It makes me so happy to allow them to be themselves.  It also really benefits them to have reliable role models around.  Last week a few of the girls told me they had bad marks on their English exams. Their demand was “Rachel-miss, teach us English.” When I asked them what they wanted to learn they said “all of it.” It was super cute. We finally figured out that question words would be the best thing to work on.

On Saturday we decided to do a class on interrogative sentences that went really well. We played a guessing game that the girls had a lot of fun with, but had a little trouble speaking English the whole time. It was cool with me that they reverted to Malayalam since they learned a lot in our session. Listening to them speak both Malayalam and English actually helped me learn a few new words

The aforementioned Dalit community that brings me so much happiness is not really something I did on purpose. Their homes line the street I walk on to get to Aksa’s Internet Café.  I initially walked through the neighborhood in a hurry, looking at, but not really seeing these homes. 

By my second or third walk I couldn’t ignore them. I walked slow so I could look inside to peek at what life may be like. They are typically thrown together with scrap wood or handmade bricks. Some have an aluminum roof, while some are thatched. It was not really the construction that was so interesting to me, but the size of these homes. They are one room houses and are maybe 4 meters wide and 8 meters long at best. Normally 5 or 6 people live in these houses.

Needless to say, the members of this community are usually outside. The women are typically gathered around the community well, filling huge containers of water for their daily use. They do not have indoor plumbing. On the street there are 4 or 5 really young children that have stolen my heart. There is only one little boy. He is around 3 years old and when he is outside he usually is naked from the waist down and has a toy drum strapped to him. He plays a beat and waves each day to greet me.

 I stop and talk with the families for a short period until my Malayalam ability is worn out, and then I go on my way. These families are the ones who have impacted me without words. Their openness and ability to welcome me with simple smiles is overwhelming. I feel so at peace as I walk down the street, seeing familiar faces and chatting with God’s children.

 I also occasionally feel….angry. Walking down that street also shows me the injustices that these people suffer from.  Many men are jobless, many women work as servants in local homes, and they are all very very impacted by the real presence of hunger in their lives. 

Typical meals for them and their children are rice, rice, and more rice. I get angry that these children are malnourished when there is enough food in the world to feed them. I get angry that they must sit idly and remain jobless for long periods of time. I get angry at the government for leaving these people untouched simply because they have a roof over their heads, though it is true that they are lucky to have that.

It is generally the quiet things that have the most impact on me and are beginning to change the way the world looks. Whether it is kisses and games with kids, feeling the pain of broken families, or seeing families who have nothing, but stick together, one thing is for sure; I am such a small part of what is happening here in Pallom.

 I am such a small part of what is happening in the world. This fact humbles my mission here and drives me to learn more about what love looks like worldwide.  Brokenness, happiness, suffering, and compassion are all part of the love that surrounds me here. 

This love surrounds me at home, but so much of my problems in the U.S. seem so ridiculous now. I feel like I was asleep for all of the years that I felt I was suffering because of how tasteless Austin College cafeteria food was. I feel like I was blind when I thought that somehow new high heels would make me happy. I feel like I was ignorant to even occasionally think that I was the only person in the world feeling broken.

I have shielded myself from the hard truths of this world. The community I have here is revealing those truths. For these revelations born out of love, I am forever grateful. 

Given  by Rachel Wells
Given.
The gift of birds
shouting a song
without inhibition.
Chosen.
A wall of strength
protecting my heart
calloused and blue.
Lifted.
Out of the silence
screaming the truth
like a pinpoint of light.
Charged.
To walk around in dirt
holding hands with strangers
understanding the uncertainty.
Acceptance and activism.
Fruitfulness and peace.
Tranquility and turmoil.
Deep abundance in a world of scarcity,
Gracefully given.