Memento

Some photos of my time in Kolkata I wish I had taken. I was there, saw the sight, but wasn't able to capture it in anything but my malleable memory. So I'm going to write them down.

A man with a large goatskin water bag. He was dressed in the usual shirt and longhi, or maybe trousers. He held the mouth of a large triangular leather bag up to the spout of a roadside water pump, and pumped the handle with his other hand. Water spilled over the bag causing darker streaks to appear on its surface. I saw another man with a similar bag walking down a road, I don't recall where. This bag was full, its thin leather straps wrapped around it and slung over his shoulder.

Late at night just on the corner of Sudder street to the internet cafe, the door to the off-license that was usually open by day was closed by a metal grating. Two men stood inside surrounded by shelves full of bottles of alcohol. A group of men gathered outside bustling up and down the two steps from the pavement up to the door. Each one pushing to be head of the queue where they would shout their order and hold out a note through the grate in exchange for a bottle. Everything a grubby brown. Very little light evident within the shop which instead was lit by the lights out in the street.

A man, sat cross legged on the pavement, a wild stack of white hair on his head. Completely naked save maybe a thin leather necklace of some kind.

The group constantly washing at the New Market Slum water pump. One man crouched, covered in soap suds, still wearing his longhi scrubbing at his back with a bar of soap. Two lads stood chatting, likewise scrubbing themselves with soap. Children running around the wash area with nothing on, splashing in the water as it spills out of the small knee level cubicle in which a man squats washing some clothes at the pump. The dog nearby looking for scraps and a little further on three children crouch in a circle and watch new born chicks under the bicycle wheeled metal cart.

The five men sat cross-legged in a circle on the pavement. One lent up against a parked car. Playing cards for several days in the same spot.

The family consisting of a woman, an elder daughter maybe, and two young children, settling down to sleep for the night on thin jute mats laid out on the pavement not far from the card players. On another occasion, the same group I think, but the child was storming off with a tantrum as the mother sought to calm him down and deal with the offending sibling. A scene played out in many kids bedrooms all over Britain. It's just that this was taking place on the pavement.

That'll do for now.

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Peoples is Peoples correction:

I've recalled some instances of bullying in the Kolkata groups, which is making the memories more real. Peoples is, after all, peoples. It would be frankly odd if street kids behaved with perfect manners. I'm trying not to allow my memories of Kolkata to become idealised, imagining the kids to be perfect human beings, the teachers to be full of consistent grace and compassion and never loosing it a little. The kids didn't always listen to me in the Bible studies, though of course I wasn't able to talk in Hindi so one can give them some slack with respect to the ignorant foreigner. The lads laughed at Shombu on occasions because he wasn't that bright. I recall seeming some argey-bargey in the New Market group. Bristol youth club tonight and the kids were all trying to be cool. I do think the Indians were more able to be themselves. Not sure if that's culture or relative wealth.

Peoples is Peoples

Lots of things keep coming back to me from my time in India.

For example, a silly little detail, I was on an aircraft this past week and got a hot refresher towel. I was reminded of the incredulity with which I took the frozen towel on the flight to India and the joy with which I greeted the frozen towel on the flight out of India.

I was chatting to someone on the plane with a relative in the States. She said that many families in Phoenix Arizona install real fire places into their homes as a feature but need to switch on the air con whenever they use them because they live in a desert which is already too hot. Ahhhhhh! This reminded me of trying to explain to the Anandaloy lads that I don’t have a fan but in fact have to heat my home on occasions.

I had a pub lunch on Friday and the burger + onion rings were delivered in 10mins. “Incredible!” I thought, and then “well no, that’s about how quick it should be.” And again met up with friends for a meal on Saturday and we all got our meals at the same time.

I saw a neighbour’s cat the other day: a fat western pet cat. Doesn't know he's born.

And finally today on the way home from church traffic was a little busy (Bristol half marathon slicing the city into two with an impenetrable line of cones). We all followed the car in front. As I crossed a roundabout I heard a car beep its horn, the owner clearly getting frustrated in the mid day sun, with someone cutting him up. I smiled and remembered the traffic in Kolkata, where it sounds as if the horn is used for echo location.

I'm trying not to fall back into previous mentalities. I'm trying to change my culture away from a western task-driven approach to everything to one where the relationship is the focus. Not to get frustrated when things don't happen quite how I thought they ought, or the day doesn't go as planned, or something isn't done that quickly. The world is a beautiful place. God's in control.

Friday Club started at church last week. Lots there.

In some ways the same, in some ways different from the groups in Kolkata. Relationships are high on the agenda once any group gets to a certain age, but... there's a difference in the opportunities to express it. I can't recall anything I'd term bullying in the groups in Kolkata, whereas it can be a battle to quash it here. The Indian kids seemed to have a better, more healthy, self image and they are better at relating to and enjoying the company of everybody in the group. But it is definitely true to say that much is recognisable between them. "Peoples is Peoples" as a wise man once said in the Muppets Take Manhattan. These are all generalisations and I need to think a little more about it to see if they're really true.

They all need Jesus Christ.

Emmanuel

I've been thinking about some of the people we met on the streets of Kolkata.

Some of the young lads who would come up to us and play and do all those street handshakes, smile and chat then switch into the beggar just as we passed the snack shop. The lad who we got to know and took to KFC, who looked genuinely sad when I explained we were getting onto a minibus to go to the airport and back home, and who hung around for a good while to say goodbye and also ask for a few more rupees. I've been thinking about the rickshaw puller I used a couple of times, the second time only because he was so pleased to see me walking down the pavement intending to walk. I've been thinking about my attempt to show him respect with a hearty handshake and then when I passed him for the last time and said goodbye. I've been thinking how he simply seemed disappointed once he realised that my smile was one of goodbye and brought no promise of earning a few rupees more. I've been thinking of the old lady I gave a couple of bread rolls to. I think of the lad who spent an evening with the girls colouring-in on the door step of the "Y", being a kid for a short time up until his mother took him off to earn something. I wonder what impact we had on him. Does he remember that evening? Maybe it's slipped into his subconscious. I pray he at least remembers that it was the girls who were with the Christians in Rippon St who gave him some simple love. It was Jesus.

I wonder how close we came to making a relationship with any of these that extended beyond the rich benevolent westerner patting the head of the poor. When they saw us on the street did they smile to see someone who cared or someone who gave? I confess to being a little offended a couple of times when one of the lads would switch to the beggar, pull the pitiful face, and rub his stomach in the show he gave everyone.

Maybe I'm being naive to think a relationship could form beyond that of rich-man beggar-man. There was a week or so when I forgot I had a white face, I forgot I looked like a visitor. I started to remember when all the European backpackers arrived. I recall the sudden realisation walking down Park Street heading for the Metro and the Anandaloy home that I looked as out of place as these pale wealthy space invaders. Perhaps that's why I resented them being there.

But how on earth could I expect to form any kind of real friendship with these people whose lives are lived in the equivalent of my wheelie bin? At the end of the day I went back to a bed in a spacious room in the "Y". In the end I flew back to a land dripping with money. My trip to Kolkata airport alone could well be further than some of those kids have ever travelled. Back in the UK on my walk home that Friday I could almost see the currency just spilling out of the mortar and down the walls of the regular British houses I was passing. I recall seeing some family on the Downs just walking along with a pushchair or playing football on the Bank Holiday Monday and suddenly such leisure time felt like yet another rich man's luxury. I can't exaggerate the difference between our lives. The universe is infinite demographically speaking.

I'm still working through the "City of Joy". It's an easy read but I spend little time reading it. A Catholic priest settles into a Kolkata slum, lives how they live, eats what they eat, suffers as they suffer. It's just a story and I don't know how it turns out yet! But I guess that's what it would take. If one wants to step beyond a simple charitable relationship to show a deeper love for someone you need to sit along side them wherever that is. In other places I've defined love as "giving yourself to someone", and there's a sense in which material giving gets in the way, is a distraction. Greatest thing I can give is time, my attention, myself. Then, afterwards, the gift is more.

So my role-model is God who became man. He came to save and so doing enable a genuine relationship with us. A genuine relationship, not one where we just look up to heaven pitifully and rub our belly, but one where our joy is in the giver not the gift. Emmanuel, God with us. Jesus Christ who though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, so that we by his poverty might become rich (2 Corinthians 8:9). God is love, love par excellence, and knows how to do it like no one else.

Whether in Bristol or Kolkata that's the standard he's set.

Only remaining question is do I have the guts to follow his example?

Little Angels

It's hard work settling into the old routine. Sterile and Dull are my words for this week so far. New term of Youth Club at church starts up soon. That should liven things up!

Some pictures:

A kid from outside checking out the New Market club. I've got no idea how they recruit new members, but there's always a crowd of kids outside wondering what's going on inside. They are usually ushered away pretty quickly.

Now I don't want to idealise these people, and I got to know some street kids well enough to know they weren't angels, but these slum kids were always happy. Apart maybe from one who often seemed to be in tears with some little huff. Sat down waiting to start on one occasion and the girl in the front of the picture below started to sing some of the songs with her friend, doing the actions by themselves, unprompted (Let me tell you about my Jesus, I love him, I love him, I love him, I love him, I love him, yeah yeah yeah yeah). On other days as we gathered these girls and the lad would challenge me to a thumb wrestle. The one at the back in the middle cheats, little angel.

The girl at the top of the ladder is going home for the afternoon. Her friend is popping round to watch tele maybe. Note that: she's not climbing up to her bedroom, she's climbing the ladder to her home. I'm sat in my living room making the most of the wireless broadband and I'm going to have to reassess my estimate for how many families my house would take. I reckon this living room alone would house four families, cooking in the corridor and washing facilities a little way down the alley at the water pump.

And finally the kids at the Serampore club. Not one of the most polished performances we saw, but then it was just for fun and didn't follow days of preparation to welcome the 'Transform Team'. Still, it makes me happy to watch it.

One of my favourite photos of a shop. Leave your sandals outside please.

Rickshaw Ride Video

The best snippet of Kolkata traffic I took on my camera.

I'm perched on the right hand side of the front seat of a rickshaw on the way from the Anandaloy home to the Tollygunge metro station. There are seven in the rickshaw, three passengers in the back and three passengers plus the driver in the front. I'm holding on for dear life with my left hand as the handle bars slide back and forth under my armpit and I'm holding the camera on my knee with my right hand.

Failed to capture the moments when we were sandwiched between two buses, inch gap either side, inspecting the depth of tread on the bus tyres. Face full of diesel. Also failed to capture the sense of imminent death.

The traffic is the reason Indians don't need adventure sports like bungee jumping or parachuting.

Plugged In

Kolkata's ubiquitous blue bus, with the helpful introduction to the principles of Kolkata traffic for the uninitiated. Just in case you can't decipher the words on the back, they are: 'DANGER', 'BLOW HORN', 'GOOD LUCK'.

So I'm back but it still feels a little weird. Shopping in the supermarket on Saturday and rather than searching for bottled water to drink I was hunting for bottled water to put in my steam iron. Spent the bank holiday weekend watching the Matrix Trilogy. Figure that.

Ring ring, "I'm in."

Was wondering through the peaceful Bristol city centre today. Found a load of Indian fair trade goods on sale, including little gift bags made from old discarded newspapers by women around New Dehli. Looks pretty authentic to me, except I wouldn't dream of paying the equivalent of Rs80 for one in India.

I miss the smells. It's quite subtle here in Bristol and the changes are not so sudden. Back in India one could walk down the pavement and come across a different and quite distinct smell for every step one took. From curry and cooking chapati, to a variety of fruit, frying jelebis (syrupy coiled fritters), a smoking chai stove, a pavement latrine (not a welcome one), diesel from a passing goods three-wheel vehicle, and then the incense from a shrine built into a roadside tree stump.

Below is the street lad during the evening we had in KFC with one of our team. Saw him quite often outside the YWCA selling gum.

This is him saying goodbye to us as we got into the EMC minibus. He's holding parting gifts of a bag of sweets and a Flurry's box with a cake inside. He's saying goodbye but he's also taking the opportunity to ask for more stuff.

Our parting was a bit of an event for some of the local street kids we got to know. Lots of heart felt goodbyes and street handshakes. Possibly just because we would buy the occasional chicken roll or packet of crisps, but I comfort myself with the thought that it's also because we spent a little time with them. As much as they may genuinely like you, and I think we did sort of develop a friendship with one or two, they can't leave behind the beggar in them. In fact once or twice towards the end of our time, once they got to know us better, they would be more forceful trying to grab a bag to see what's inside. They would take absolutely anything... if we let them.

Picture below of one of the resident cats at the YWCA, christened "Fudge" by Leonora. He's pretending to be cuddly and not a rabid death monster. I didn't trust him. "Crackers" however was more friendly and would accept a little tickle without bearing fangs. He pushed the relationship with the team at the end of our time there, however, when he ate "Milo" the gecko that lived in the toilet cubicle. Got to know that gecko quite well in the early hours of one particular Thursday.

More pictures to come.

Back from Paradise

" I can do everything through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:13

My poor Hindi handwriting copied from one of the New Market girls

We're all back from Paradise.

We took off from Kolkata yesterday at 8pm after a day of final gift shopping, leaving me with nothing but Rs2, and a painfully slow meal, don't start us on that episode.

Check-in was also slow. I had to unpack to show that the gift I'd got for my Mum wasn't a bomb. It took a few minutes to get through the various layers of security I had established around my ruck.

As we gained altitude I looked down on Kolkata. It looked wonderful, as wonderful as cities always do from that height and at that time of night. Chains of golden lights criss-crossing the moon lit city. Then I spotted the flood lit Victoria Memorial and the Hooghly bridge, clearly visible. With these points of reference I looked down on the Tollygung region where Anandaloy should be having their time of devotion, Park Street where Saddam was most likely trying to sell his chewing gum for Rs10, and New Market slum area where I have no idea what might be happening at that time. The distance made it look like any other city, but I knew that close up those chains of golden lights were the filthy, frantic, ferocious streets of Kolkata (ferocious for the sake of alliteration, but true also). I could get poetic about the lights being the little points of hope and love I'd met in that dark crazy place, but I'll leave you with the thought and let you form your own words. I looked down and refused to be hypnotised into thinking it was like any other city.

Transfer at Mombai was a little rushed but we made it and so did our luggage, for which I was thankful to God and not a little impressed by Jet Airways. Heathrow then became one of those sudden and shocking anti-climax endings. We had just a little energy left to arrange for a final picture. This is what you look like after 4 weeks in Kolkata and 10 hrs in aircraft:

The picture is low res for the sake of the ladies.

One by one people left with their lifts or to get connecting flights. Goodbyes and hugs and definite hopes that we'll remain in touch.

I left to get a coach and train back to Bristol. London Heathrow and Bristol city centre: I imagine this sunny Friday morning is a poor time to make a fair comparison, but this country seems too quiet. It's peaceful, it's clean, it's spacious. After Kolkata Bristol appeared like one of those unnerving utopia planets in Star Trek, hiding some dark secret. It all looks just too good. Just where is everybody? I stopped walking half way between the bus and home just to listen to the wind rustling the leaves of the trees around me. The cars and buses are so quiet here. The traffic so orderly. How can we as a nation expect to get anything done without sounding our car horns every minute?

Got back to my house which God had kept for me. Good friends had left me a little milk and food. I shall have to tell them that the few fresh fruits on the kitchen work surface brought tears of joy to my face.

Lots of mail to get through, washing to sort out, but this afternoon was spent soaking in the bath and then looking over the gifts I had got for family. I was feeling relatively alert so decided to make it to evening with only a slight doze to try and get into UK time.

Over the coming days and weeks I'll chew over what I've seen and done. I'll keep blogging for the time being. Why stop? I'd like to remember the wonderful people I've met and the evidence I've seen that abundant life is possible without the western luxuries, even easier to get hold of.

I'll be posting some of my favorite photos over the next weeks too.

Below - a rickshaw rank:

Last Day

Today's our last day in Kolkata.

We've all said our goodbyes to the various projects, we had a debrief with EMC yesterday afternoon and had a team debrief last night, we fly off this evening, and I believe we all have mixed emotions going back.

It feels like I've just got settled, just really started. Monday and Tuesday I was at New Market in the morning and Anandaloy in the afternoon to evening with Leo and Rachael. These were good and full days. Tuesday Timothy was at New Market, along with Tony Sargent who visited the project for the first time. Afterwards Timothy was encouraging the young people to take their memory verses seriously, and as a demonstration he took the challenge for he and I to reel off a load of memory verses. I faltered pretty quickly. The pressure was too great! And somehow "something about shining like stars and holding out the word of truth in Philippians somewhere" doesn't quite cut the mustard.

Resolution 1: Memory verse every week.

Above is myself with Shambu on the left and Muhammad on the right at the Anandaloy home. As we parted they gave us gifts and cards. We received a candle made by the lads and I was also given a T-shirt signed by them all. One of my purchasing triumphs yesterday was a set of Carrom coins. Now all I need is to get Paul to make a table.

The last two days I've taken the bus to Anandaloy instead of the Auto, just for the experience. It's just as frenetic but in a different kind of way. The Auto Rickshaw is like a combination of a dodgem car and a go-cart, but amidst the Lorries, taxis and bicycles of Kolkata traffic. Hold on tight or you'll be chucked out as the driver maneuvers around a pot hole. Did I tell you about the ride we had one evening with seven in the one one Auto? Four people in the front! I was perched on the front seat next to the driver, the bus wheels at eye level and a face foot of diesel. Quite a rush. To get on a bus you need to make eye contact with the conductor who is stood in the entrance. He bangs on the sides of the bus to tell the drive to go or stop or whatever. You hope on, stand with everyone else as the bus jerks and sways, and at some point the conductor will ask you where you want to go and you buy the ticket. The real trick is to keep a watch out of the waist level windows to see where you are so that you don't miss your stop. If you do it's no problem, the bus will stop wherever you ask.

Above is Roshni, in the middle, with her mother, father and brother. Next to her in the white is the leader of the New Market project, and on the far left is her cousin Ravi. Roshni and Ravi both attend the New Market project each morning. On Tuesday I was taken around the New Market slum immediately surrounding the project. It was quite an experience. I think I've described it before. A large building with rooms of around 8ft by 8ft, each it seems with a bed at one end, adults sleeping above and I believe children sleeping underneath. A shelf with pots and pans, Hindu gods, and a colour TV. All cooking is done in the central communal corridor onto which all the rooms open. It's got two storeys, with ladders leading up to the second set of "flats". It was odd to see the happy clean New Market kids going home after the club. Roshni above lives outside the building. Her house is of a similar size, with I understand 5 people living there. She has a covered courtyard of the same size as her house, just outside where they cook, wash and sit. I was offered chai by her father but unfortunately didn't have the time. Maybe some day in the future. Her family were warm and clearly proud of her and the other children. Both Roshni and Ravi are intelligent, talented and bright and along with others had completed their Duke of Edinburgh Bronze Award. It's incongruous to think of this family as "untouchable". It's plain unjust.

It's a close community in every sense! I was trying to think how many my house back home would hold. On a similar basis I think it would take at least eight families of 5 or 6 each. That's about 40 people! As I left for the last day they gave me a guava, which were being handed out to all the kids. Not very juicy as it turns out but I was pleased to have it since it was a warm day.

The project has been going for 12 years, and as well as the Bible club holds clinics for the women and other support meetings. EMC were also able to lobby for the community to get some facilities, like improved toilets, a water pipe, a covered area for the women and children to wash. Now they are hoping to do something better with the pigs who are kept somewhere in the slum. I didn't see the pigs but goats and chickens are milling around in the smokey alleys along with everyone else.

Think I've spoken of Saddam in the past. I may have miss labeled him. It's Saddam who is doing the drawing on the YWCA and it's his brother who is eating the chicken roll. Well the family have now returned to their corner on Park Street. Chatting with another lad it seems that the families moved on after the McDonald's aircon explosion because the place was crawling with police.

Brunch soon and then I probably should start packing. I'll try and put some more considered reflections down upon my return, but for now maybe this will do. Talking at the debrief I noted that the work of EMC is so thorough and complete. For example from the railway to detox to rehab to home environment education and then supported to get a flat and a job. And the gospel running through all of it. Premila replied "but it didn't start like that." They responded to the greatest need each time and the work grew. Vijayan was referred to as a visionary for each project, but it seems the real visionary planning the full extent of EMC's ministry is God who has been piecing it together other many years, directing them in each individual step but not necessarily informing or even equipping them for the eventual size and extent of the work. Faith is required to take one step and trust God. Trust God for that individual step and also trust God that he already knows what the next step it. Like Abraham leaving Ur.

Resolution 2: Faith for small steps to who knows where.

There's a whole bunch of young people in Kolkata who have told me they are praying for my return. I'd very much like to one day, to catch up with my family.

A Cup of Cold Water

In the Internet cafe and it's just started pouring with rain. It's been raining quite a bit recently which means it's cooler, but my clothes get pretty dirty pretty quickly. I'm trying to hold out for the last few days and dreaming of the luxury of the washing machine back home. I'm also dreaming of eating fish and salad and fruit, of a hot bath and being clean for longer than the 30secs it takes me to walk from the shower to my room. Dreaming of going out for the day without the ritual of sun lotion and deet spray. Dreaming of wearing socks. I'm dreaming of laying in bed and going to sleep to the sound of "Sailing By".

Friday at Anandaloy was great. The girls brought some CD's for the lads to decorate with Bible verses etc. which they enjoyed. Played some Carrom. Finished by taking the devotions, on the torn curtain again since these lads hadn't done this with me and I like to make most use of the preparation! They seemed to appreciate it. Bapi, about 14 years old?, was a great translator. When I asked them if they knew about the temple curtain he essentially went through my entire lesson, through the duties of the high priest once a year down to the meaning of the torn curtain. They know their stuff. I'm hoping to consider Gideon a little with them this week. "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." - Memory Verse.
Covered that a little this morning with the group at New Market. A little more difficult this time since I didn't have an an adult translator, but the older kids helped out a lot. I went through the basic story of Gideon's call via pictures. A scared farmer turned into a mighty warrior by God. Finishing, as ever, with the memory verse and some colouring in. They were also practising some singing which they will be performing this afternoon at Rippon St on tele.
The project leader pointed out one of the homes of the kids. Opposite the small hut we hold the group in is a building that looks like a warehouse. It has an entrance in one end which reveals a long corridor that runs the length of the building, crowded with people and clothes and pots etc. At the door is a ladder that goes 6ft up to the second story where one of the kids live. Opposite that I happened to glance through the wall of the building and wave to another member of the group in her home. The project leader, whoose name I'm yet to remember successfully , promised to show me around the slum and visit some of the kids homes tomorrow.

Yesterday was a relaxing Sunday. Tony Sargent of ICC is visiting and preached. He's a long time supporter of EMC.
He also spoke at a memorial service this morning for Vijayan Pavamani at the school grounds where he's buried. Claire and Becky represented the team there. Sunday afternoon we walked around the Victoria Memorial again so Claire could see it and visited the Indian Museum which resembles a 1920's archeology research centre.

For our last Saturday, I and another visited the Kali Temple, which was quite an experience. The street leading to the temple are swarming with Brahmin's who will guide you around the temple for just Rs11, plus a charitable donation which they'd like to be at least Rs500 (I gave less, but sufficient to be allowed to leave), plus the Rs100 that they insist on having at the end for no apparent reason. We were ushered into a room off the street first to deposit sandals and collect flowers, then into to the temple area. It's small and, as everywhere else around it, very crowded with stalls selling flowers and food, many beggars and many devotees circling the central building to get a turn to look into Kali's black face. All very mysterious and frenetic. We were shown the small area and blood stained posts where a goat is sacrificed each morning, and a buffalo once a year. People praying, their heads on the posts, whilst we were there. More to be said. It's quite a contrast to the time I've spent with the projects and in the church here, worshipping the one true living God.
Next door to the temple is one of Mother Theresa's home for the destitute and dying, deliberately placed at the gate way to hell it seems.

This afternoon I'll be in Anandaloy once more, where Tony Sargent is joining them I believe. He's had a lot of involvement with the home there. So I'm heading into the rain for a cup of tea before I get into the metro.

A cup of cold water in the name of Christ: Friday night a group of us took a lad to KFC. He sells chewing gum on the streets near the YWCA and we also know him from the Pavement Clubs. They wouldn't let him into the Chinese we were originally heading for. So he had a little KFC chicken and fries and an ice cream, his little stomach not coping with much. We played with a balloon and afterwards I lent him some hair wax so that he could do his hair like Beckham. The KFC guy who served us stood around and waited on us. Excellent service but possibly just because there was a street kid in the restaurant. Still, they served him and I think he enjoyed his evening.

Kolkata's filling up with Euro backpackers. I'm starting to resent this foreign invasion. Who are these mere tourists? A little arrogant, or confused maybe, for me to be thinking myself as separate from the travelling tourist, but I'm glad I'm here with Tearfund and EMC. Not sure how I'd react to be walking down the streets between the sleeping families and begging children just sightseeing, feeling even more useless than I do already. Think I've got used to the fact that poverty surrounds us, but it hurts when you see people made in the image of God left on the pavement as refuse, it hurts when you have to refuse help to a begging child in obedience to the received wisdom of what's best. In fact I think it's hurting more as time goes on. I'm so glad I'm here actually getting to know some of those living in the slums, those rescued from living on the station and addiction. I'm glad that the pictures I have are of Indians I know, and have the privilege of counting as family.

There's no better way to do a first trip to India.
How cool is this, I'm in Kolkata!

Only One of Each Day Left!

Catching up whilst I've got the opportunity, as the last few days may be a little busy.

So yesterday afternoon I just went walking around the streets to soak in some atmosphere, of which there's plenty. Was walking along Chowringhee amidst the market stalls on the wide pavement. Selling rubbish mostly, cheep toys and clothes, with occasional fruit stalls and stalls selling mass produced but reasonable 'craft' items, bags and such. Took a turn down a side street and heard an Indian say in clear English "hello". So I turned and replied and he struck up a conversation. So I thought, I've time to mingle and sat down when he invited me. He was from a rural area out of Kolkata, he told me, as was his friend who's English wasn't so good. He offered to buy me chai from a nearby stall which I accepted, so we shifted benches and continued to talk. This was my first time in India etc. etc. He asked me what I did for a living, I told him Engineer. "And you?" I asked. It turns out he had a stall further down Chowringhee. "I could show you if you like."
This was business. I'm sure it's possible to chat to someone who hasn't got an ulterior motive, but it's probably not possible to complete a business deal of any level without first a social interaction. Still, suitably entertained by the experience I agreed to see his stall, so he led me down the street and then through a gate into a wide alley. This was the reason he was out getting customers. His shop, which was new apparently, was hidden away deep into the mass of buildings away from the bustle of the pavement, away from the passing trade. He led me further into the alley way whilst I psychologically prepared for two years handcuffed to a radiator, then deeper still into a small passage way into a tiny room. It was approximately 5ft by 10ft, with a slender counter cutting it into two lengthwise. Further on it led to a lower showroom or storeroom that seemed to be full of fabric. The shop had two men inside. These, in addition to the two I met on the street and the guy just hanging around in the passage way, meant the total of attendants were five. All now waiting for me to buy something. The guy who first spoke to me waited, he job done. A man in the shop now took over.
The main room was surrounded by cabinets full of small wooden or stone ornaments. Statues of Krishna, Ganesha, Buddha and Jesus. Wooden elephants. Soap stone animals carved with a lattice pattern so that you could see the smaller animal carved inside. The counter had a glass top through which you could see jewellery, up until the point he started to stretch out Bengali Silk as I think he called it. "Very nice silk, look at the colours. Which one do you like? Tell me and I'll give you a price." "They are all very nice but I'm not going to buy any today, thanks." They insisted I sit down and the attention was turned to something else. First the jewellery, which he laid across my wrist. "You are my first customer today, I'll give you a good price and you'll give me good luck." I kept asking him "so where does this come from? What's this made of." almost deliberately inviting him to make up some exaggerated claim for his goods. We turned to wooden elephants which were rather nicely done, and so the bidding started. He said they were Rs350 each, but for two he'd give a special discount so that they'd cost only Rs600 for the pair. I got him to give a price for a few other items until I eventually came to the thing that first caught my eye as a present for Mother. So for a while we traded prices for this plus the two elephants. I had two advantages now I look back. I had little cash in my wallet and there was no way I was about to pay by card. So this meant when he asked me for my best price for everything I gave an completely outrageous price for the absolutely true reason that I didn't have any more. Secondly I think he may have interpreted my innate indecisiveness for hardened bargaining skills. The gift was originally priced at Rs1050. He offered a special discount of Rs900 when purchased with the elephants. When asked I suggested the gift should be Rs500. "But that's half the asking price." He replied, to which I nearly told him that that's what all the guide books and Indian friends have told me to offer. Eventually I got it for Rs700. Which seems reasonable to me and I was quite reassured by his begrudging waggle of the head as we shook hands. I also escaped to tell the tale, smiling as I left he dark passage way.

The others came back from Aquatica with a variety of cuts and bruises. Turns out this water park, with pools and slides, had very shallow water and cracked tiles. We went to Pizza Hut again where Claire had spaghetti because of her jaw injury! Everyone is absolutely fine. It simply meant there was much to talk about over dinner.

Today the rain has returned. It's not as heavy as before but was going for much of the night. It's now a drizzle and the streets are flooded in parts. I'm off to Anandaloy again where I'm guessing the usual footy is cancelled, so we'll think of something else indoors to do. the advantage of the rain of course is that it's much cooler. The disadvantage is that the cold shower in the morning is less welcome.

If you look back over the previous entries you'll see a young lad eating a chicken roll. His name is Saddam and we've not seen him since the severe flooding a few days back. Before this he and his family were always around. We're not sure if perhaps a regular movement of the family is usual, from street to street, or if there is some other cause.

We've only a week left now, or in the counting system of Leonora "we've only got one of each day left!" I'm hoping to spend a lot of it in the projects after two days off.

If you're praying, thanks.
Some thoughts for the last week. Thank God for a good time and safety; Pray we would all make good use of the remaining days; Karen is suffering a little with blisters on her feet; Pray for the children and the projects affected by the flooding, it causes great difficulties for the poor on the streets like Saddam and his family; and do Pray for EMC as they continue the work.

Independence Day

Last of a kind: These are the gentlemen who earn a living pulling others around. He'll be out of a job in two weeks time. I see this chap often sat at a particularly busy junction to Park Street trying to pick up trade. He's not got a bell so has to find a good spot to attract attention and also has to shout above the noise of traffic and taxi horns as he goes. Many of these men will have come from out of town looking to earn a few rupees. Tip big. I should imagine they'll be stuck in the city with nothing, like many others, come September. (I obviously asked this guy if he was happy for a picture. In order to avoid a lengthy photo shoot attempting a natural pose I simply took him as he stood; absolutely straight, looking slightly awkward. Didn't want him to feel like a tourist oddity, but he didn't speak any English and I spoke less Bengali, so I tried to show my respect with a hearty handshake.)

A game of "monsoon footy", as described previously, played by the lads at Anandaloy: I went again the following day and the lads said the pitch had dried out so we went for a game. It turns out that an Indian "dry pitch" is equivalent to an English "sodden" pitch and has patches with anything up to an inch of water. So we got quite muddy and my game wasn't quite as sharp as it might having been :-). One lad there recognised me from our visit to the detox centre. He's new to the Anandaloy home and it was evident that the other lads were looking out for him. It was good to see.

Below is a close up of the game Carrom, I believe I've noted before (There an entry in Wikipedia on it). Again at the Anandaloy home. The player's about to execute a slick little flick sending the black counter into the pocket.

A back street grocery store: The guy's holding a measuring spoon with which he loads a newspaper bag with rice which is then given to the girl to weigh.

A typical shop along a busy street in Kolkata: See the guy sat on the counter selling the packets of snacks and other food. This takes a little getting used to. Don't tend to see the girls at ASDA sat on the checkout counters back home. As I walked past you could see underneath him someone else making chai, just behind where the other guy is sat down on the right. It's a two storey shop, kind of a road side department store.

Yesterday was Indian Independence Day. 60 Years since India first enjoyed self-rule. Every Indian I've met is very proud of their country, culture and achievements. There was a colourful celebration at the EMC Ripon St office, with many of the children and adults we've met and worked with over the past weeks involved. The program appeared to be a celebration of Indian culture and the survival spirit that every Indian seems to possess. There were no digs at the British or the injustices we were responsible for.

Sweet tea and samosas for refreshments afterwards. Then the Tearfund team went to the Tollygung country club for a bit of a break. It's a throw back to the old colonial past. A few swam in the swimming pools (swimming caps provided from the bottom draw of an old table for those with long hair), others of us wondered around the golf course, watching the birds as well as the golf balls. The evening meal there was a little entertaining simply due to the outrageously poor service.

Karen has had a few blisters come up on her feet, possibly from insect bites. She's got some cream and tablets from the hospital. The doctors here use a scatter gun approach. So she had yesterday at the YWCA with Jennie but it was a profitable time for her to apply her Kolkata experience so far and consider future directions.

A guy has just come into the Internet cafe wafting incense and chanting. Offering puja for a faster connection maybe, or perhaps this is the virus protection.

Today the others have gone to Aquatica, a water park, and I'm spending the day going through the streets once more, reading a little of "City of Joy" (the classic novel about Kolkata). Got my glasses repaired at the best looking opticians I could find, in return for a small charitable donation (simple repair, one of the little pads fell out, not the first time). Off to get some lunch now and find somewhere to do more reading. Then tomorrow it's back to Anandaloy. Asked the lads last time if there was anything specific they'd like to do. Bapi replied that I could perhaps teach them some new games and take some Bible studies, :-).

The Price of a Couple of Photos

Spent yesterday at the Anandaloy home for lads.
Kicked off to a slow start since it had been raining since early Sunday evening. Monday morning continued with heavy rain and thunder so that much of Kolkata was flooded. Premila was indicating that the flooding is really unnecessary. It's really a matter of lack of investment in the drains and infrastructure. Many of the children served by EMC will have had a particularly difficult day, with water up to the knees in some parts. I can't imagine what a night in New Market must have been like. Apparently it's fairly high up so will not have flooded but other slum areas will. The pavement clubs were combined into one at Creek Row for the day since so few children turned up. In such heavy rain it seems the city doesn't quite stop but does slow down a little.
Kuldeep picked me up at Rippon St and we took the metro to Tollygung. It was quite neat in comparison to much of the city, and simple to use. Rs6 to get there then an Auto ride to the home. One has to find an Auto rickshaw that's going you way then once he's full of passengers he'll fire off down the street. One quickly learns how tight the turning circle of these things are as they dart in between the buses, taxis and people. He had to stop at one point for repairs due to the damp conditions. It seemed to involve replacing sellotape around some wires.
There were more lads at the home in the afternoon than usual, again due to the rain some couldn't get to work. So we played a kind of finger pool. Four people squat around a square wooden board on the floor. About 3ft square, wit pockets at the corners like a snooker or pool table. There are a group of counters placed in the middle, one red then some black and some "white" (in fact yellow). The players are in two teams of two and each take turns to flick a puck, as a kind of cue ball, to fire the counters in the pockets. They seem to do it with great ease and power. My technique needs some work.
Then they went out for a game of monsoon footy. The pitch was under a 4 inches of water so they threw the ball instead of kicking it. Like a blend between basket ball and footy. I didn't play as I hadn't come prepared to roll around in muddy water. In future I bring a spare set of clothes and a towel with me.
As a finale we spent a little time flying a kite from the roof of the home.
That was yesterday. Felt like I was just watching for much of it, so having seen the place for a day, I hope now to lead something a little more structured. At least make me feel like I'm contributing. I'm trying to bring to mind all the stuff we do in the Friday Club back home. Leonora and Rachael may be joining me today also, which I think should please the lads. At the end of the day I think they'd rather chat with Susanna and Rachael. This is a role I can't fulfill. I'm hoping that it will be possible for the few days next week to return to New Market in the morning and go to Anandaloy in the afternoon.

So I had planned to spend this morning sat in a cafe thinking this through and prep'ing some Bible Studies. Instead I've been for a bit of a walk and met some people along the way. Been variously strung a line or taken for a ride by sundry beggars, each one insisting that they are not actually asking for money and they don't like begging etc. In actual fact it's been very similar to being in Bristol except maybe I'm in the mood to talk and they are very good at chatting for a few rupees (and maybe there are very few if any government life lines for these people). One took me for a cup of chai before explaining why his son needed some cash, another told me all about her children and why she wished she could send them to school. All of them claimed to pray to Jesus, even the Muslim lady after I told her I was a Christian. She wanted me to spend over Rs800 on her groceries! I confess to buying some food for her, largely for the experience of watching the guy and his little daughter (?) measure out the rice and dhal in a little back street shop, but nothing near her initial request! She was outrageously presumptuous towards me and not at all generous to those around her.
So it's been an interesting morning. With the two I did "help" I've had to trust and leave them to deal with their own hearts before a God who sees everything. Does my cynicism make me less of a fool or more of one? This moral issue is one I'll be facing when I get back home. Giving on the streets is not the answer, whether in Bristol or Kolkata. I think that's pretty clear. It would be nice to just chat to some of these with a thought that they weren't attempting to soften you up, which is clearly what they are doing. Maybe I should start trying to just talk and make it clear I'm going to give nothing. See how happy they are for the simple cultural exchange. The one lady was insistent that she wouldn't ask me again. As I tried to explain, she may not but somebody will. Every time I step out somebody will, and I simply can't help everyone. I've met generous people living on the streets and I've met those who are just out for themselves. Any sphere of life, all personalities and qualities.
So what to do?
Give time but not money, indeed don't give anything more than sweets and biscuits to kids sparingly. Focus attention on the one's and two's God would introduce to me. I can't help everybody. Remember the star fish story. And those two principles, Time and Focus, seem to mirror the EMC approach.

Still, following this morning I've got some great photos of a chai stall and a grocery store, even if it was at some small cost!

I'm heading to lunch and get a photo of a rickshaw guy.

We're All Okay

We're at Antie Premila's for Sunday evening meal following her kind invitation. The girls are being taught how to wear saris and I'm making use of her broadband.

Had some drama this morning after church. There was an explosion just around the corner from us as the frontage of McDonalds was blown out by a faulty air con unit at 9:30am. One passer-by killed and three or four injured. The place was not yet open. We're all absolutely fine. There was a lot of speculation about the cause but the air con fault seems to be the final answer.

See: http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2007/08/12/asia/AS-GEN-India-McDonalds-Explosion.php

It's raining a lot now, in fits and starts. Leo and Rachael were making the most of the monsoon experience a little earlier. The rest of us spent a quiet afternoon inside.

School Poem

Written by one of the pupils of Calcutta Emmanuel School:

If somebody asks you about your educational background,
Proclaim boldly that,
Church is my college,
Heaven is my University,
Father God is the Chancellor,
Jesus is my Principle,
Holy Spirit is my Teacher,
Angels are my classmates,
Bible is my syllabus,
Trials and temptations are my exams,
Over coming Satan is my hobby,
Winning souls to God's kingdom is the assignment,
Receiving eternity is the degree,
Praise and worship is the slogan of my college

Asha Karmakar

Kolkata Beauty

We meet the lads below most evenings on the way back from a restaurant or where ever.
The attend the Ripon St pavement club. The lad on the right is out selling chewing gum, like many boys. Often when he hangs around with us his mother will eventually turn up and send him off working again. He seems happy just to play for a little but then switches to begging mode. On this occasion he was asking for a chicken roll. I was pleased to see him share it out to the little chap to his side and to an elderly woman.

Leonora and Rachael were playing with some lads from the clubs just outside the YWCA one evening. They brought out a pad of paper and some crayons. One gent began to draw flowers and then handed the pictures to this kid to colour in. A crowd gathered and watched as he filled in the picture perfectly, only pausing to rub his aching forearm. It was nice to see him being a child, just before his mum collected him to get him selling gum again. He got the picture as a present, as well as a picture from Leo and Rachael telling him that Jesus loves him.

Below is my Bible Study group from the New Market project. I'm the one on the bottom left. We had just had a lesson were we studied the parable of the lost sheep and the rejoicing that follows when it's found. Finished with Zephaniah 3:17 as the memory verse, which involved a bit of drawing to help them remember it. Everywhere a memory verse. This place is desperate for the Julie Dart school of memory verse teaching.


Friday was the last day there for Becky and I. They said a farewell by tying woolen friendship bracelets to my wrist. I was going to be there three mornings from Wednesday to Friday, but instead I decided to spend Thursday sat on the toilet. So now I feel I've had the full authentic Indian experience. I blame it on the filthy masala lemonade and a long walk in the sun the day after. Many words have gone trough my mind to describe Wednesday night and Thursday, but I don't think you want to know. It's now Saturday, and I've just regained the confidence to break wind.

Leonora and Rachael are settling into the Creek Row pavement club, playing with the kids and teaching them English. Sarah and Karen are doing a similar thing at the Paulin Bhawan home, tutoring kids after school. Claire and Jenny are at the Ripon street pavement club playing with the younger ones and teaching them simple English, and Susanna and Rachael are at the Lakermath project with a variety of activities for young kids. Some difficulties arise with regards to the different teaching styles between cultures, but I think slowly everybody is finding their feet. I recon I've had it pretty easy. Teaching slum kids that God rejoices over them with singing. It really doesn't get much better.

Cleaning clothes is difficult. All hand washing in buckets with cold water at the moment. I can't get anything clean. Had to do a batch of underwear sooner than expected. I'm trying my best because it constantly amazes me how neat and tidy these kids turn up everyday. It's the shirt collars that wont wash.
We've had a couple of power cuts late in the evening. The lights go out and the fans stop working and you start pouring with sweat. Then you hear the generators kick in and a cool breeze hits you again.

Today we did the assembly at the Saturday morning Bible Club. Theme - "God made you, you're special". Arranged mostly by school worker Karen. Was well received. Timothy, the youth leader it seems, was very pleased with the last song "I'm special". I was surprised he didn't know it. He's got a huge repertoire. He's like a young hyperactive dancing Roy Evans, if that helps. He's got a great connection with all the kids and is respected by them and the other teachers. He brought me up to the front of the seniors class this morning to help in the dance with a couple of songs. He's got the moves. This is not something I'm expecting to bring back with me.

Susanna's birthday today. Presents and a cakes from Flurry's. Pizza Hut later, but no masala lemonade for me.

We're all settling into a routine now in our various projects, and it's beginning to feel like it's almost time to leave. Below a picture of the old Howrah bridge at night. Beautiful, of a kind maybe. But nothing like the beauty of the kids, like watching the lad colour in on the doorstep of the YWCA Wednesday evening.


Next week I believe I'll be in the Anandaloy home for lads. Don't quite know what that will involve yet.

I need to go the department store and get more toilet paper. I've run out.