Mumbai

Upon hearing the word “Mumbai” you might immediately think of Slumdog Millionaire. As my plane approached the ground I did see several slums but no kids were playing cricket on the tarmac. It is the economic and entertainment capital of India. It is a city of contrasts with amazing wealth and poverty. It is also very diverse with people from all over the country and institutions recognized around the world. It is hard to think of an equivalent city.

Well I did not see all the tourists spots, go to the beach or even stay in a hotel. I did something better-I stayed in the homes of local people hearing and seeing their involvement with various projects and work in the city.
Saturday I met with a couple who are doctors operating an HIV clinic in Thane. The husband took me through a PowerPoint summarizing their work and some of the main issues they struggle with. I was privileged to join in a staff meeting that afternoon hearing about some of the families, facility needs, and ideas for connecting with the larger medical community. The shame associated with HIV and view that God is judging them keeps many people from reaching out to these people. It can be overwhelming to holistically address these patients since there are also relational and psychological wounds. Their program and these doctors are well respected in the community and there are some opportunities for partnership with a local hospital.
Sunday evening I stayed with a family who have a passion to serve the community around them yet strive to call others to serve with them. They are Christians and though Jesus calls them to visibly love those around them, it is difficult to convince others to step out of their comfort zone. I had a good conversation with their oldest son about ways youth might be able to get involved in even small ways to make a difference. Education is a huge problem and he has a close friend who teaches children from the slums and connects them with a local government school for further education. Their younger son is applying to do grad work in counselling. There are hardly any counselors in Mumbai but with the mounting pressure on students and employees along with natural strain from being a congested city, there is a huge need. The number of suicide attempts in the city is staggering.
Monday I met with an agency involved with forced prostitution and the legal prosecution of the perpetrators. They have a tough job and nothing is simple, quick and straightforward. The girls want to make a living, the owners want money, and the authorities can sometimes be bribed to let things slide. Even when they finally coordinate with the authorities to make a move and rescue the girls, the girls do not always want to leave their previous life. The legal prosecutors face threats and physical danger from others for taking away someone’s business. The aftercare workers also have a difficult task in helping these girls deal with the abuse, their own identity and worth, and their transition and acceptance back into regular society. The government provides meagre supplies for living causing most to want to return to prostitution. There are so few counsellors and even fewer who have any experience with the trauma of prostitution. In spite of all this, it was encouraging to hear of all the women who have been saved, learned a skill, and become wives and mothers.
Our charity shop, ASHA, is small but growing and we love to support projects addressing education, healthcare and local handcrafts. I definitely think that those I met in Mumbai working with HIV, education in the slums and forced prostitution would be worth supporting.

Off to India!

I went to India for two main reasons. One is cultural exposure. If I am living in a community dominated by people from India, going to their country will definitely help me understand them better. The second is to check in on charities and projects our charity shop ASHA supports and visit others we may support in the future. I will have a variety of posts to make; I had bad internet connection while there so I am catching up now.
I left Friday the 10th to Mumbai landing Saturday afternoon with one backpack. I left by plane from there to Jamnagar Tuesday morning, took a bus to Rajkot the following afternoon and another bus to Ahmedabad the next afternoon. I flew from there Saturday morning to Delhi to meet up with two friends. We left Delhi that night by train to Ferozpur. Monday we took a cab to Amritsar and a train back to Delhi. Thursday I took a day trip to see the Taj Mahal in Agra. Friday I flew to Varanasi and returned to Delhi Monday morning. I flew back to London at 2 the next day. 18 days. So if you want to break out a map here are the cities in order: Mumbai(Bombay), Jamnagar, Rajkot, Ahmedabad, Delhi, Ferozpur, Amritsar, Delhi, Agra, Delhi, Varanasi, Delhi, London.

more than a lost bag

March 30th at 10:35pm I received unexpected phone call from my friend. He asked what was in my backpack and how much it was worth because his care was just broken into. Someone smashed his back window, took his GPS system, ipod, some personal items and my backpack. Quickly I tried to recall what was in it of importance, thankfully not any wallet or passport. The backpack itself and my ipod were the most expensive things I lost-around £80. I mainly focused on how he was, especially since he was getting married 5 days later-horrible timing!

It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized all that I had lost; it was more than a bag and its contents. The biggest loss was my journal from the last 6 months, something I had hoped to look back on years from now. It was filled with memories and reflections on my time in London-names of new friends, observations of a new community, a log of ideas and desires, notes of new tastes, words and sounds, a testimony of solace within transition. I had a small hand-sized journal of personal writing, collected notes and favourite quotes of friends, authors, heroes-people who have shaped how I see the world and myself. Only some of them did I record elsewhere. I had Belgian chocolate to give away-Cote D’Or. I had one tiny chocolate from Leonidas I had kept from my last day in Belgium from a café, a Belgian lager, an ipod given by a friend from the states, an 8GB USB that held 100s of documents and articles of different subjects, my small print leather-bound Bible. Its worn cover, battered pages and penned in comments gave its own history. Then there were random items I habitually had in there: athletic tape, penknife, sharpie, paper, notes, and water bottle. Most obvious is the backpack itself. I won it in a six mile trail race on Signal Mtn, TN, USA March 2005 by getting 3rd place after wrenching my ankle the first mile on a rock. I stubbornly ran on after stopping a few minutes. It was not a smart thing to do. I hobbled around with an ice pack the rest of the day. It was a nice trail pack that I would never let myself buy but I loved. I used it all the time with my nomadic lifestyle. I took it to 5 countries, backpacking up mountains, canoing across rivers, running/hiking through forests…it didn’t look very good but it held a lot of memories. And now it is gone. I couldn’t even post a photo of it here since I never took one. I know all of this sounds ridiculous but I thought I’d share. I’m not creative enough to make this sound like a eulogy but maybe you’ll see that this is about more than a lost bag.