Slumdog Millionaire: So accurate it's creepy...

A lot of people have been asking me lately what I though of the movie Slumdog Millionaire. It might be because of my stellar reputation as a world-renowned movie critic, but it is more likely because I just spent three months in India. Hmmm... Not sure.

Ok. No critical build-up to my final opinion here. Slumdog ROCKED. It was awesome. Fantastic. Whatever you want to call it. I loved it.

Seriously, if you haven't seen Slumdog Millionaire yet, you need to. And not just because it won 8 Oscars. I would recommend it hands down even if it hadn't won a single Academy Award. I've already seen it twice, I'd easily see it again, and the soundtrack has been playing non-stop in my car for 2 days.

Slumdog Millionaire is a must-see movie.
So go see it. You must.

So why did I like it so much? Why all this hype?

Because Slumdog Millionaire captured poverty in India like nothing I've ever seen. The images of people and places in the movie were so spot on that it took my breath away. I felt like someone was reaching into my memory and pulling out the exact things I had seen and experienced.

In fact, it genuinely was a little creepy, because of the sheer volume of sights and sounds in the movie that matched my trip exactly.

At one point in the movie, there is a little girl wearing a filthy yellow dress picking through a massive pile of garbage. Children like her (called "rag-pickers" in India) were a common sight in New Delhi. Once, as we were driving around a corner in my neighborhood, I saw a little girl, clothes filthy, picking through a heap of trash. I think her dress might even have been yellow. The exact same image.

Later in the movie, two young boys make money by walking through a train, selling things to the passengers. I travelled in the exact same type of train, and yes... little boys tried to sell me stuff.

Slumdog's protagonist, a boy who grew up in a Mumbai slum.

One image in the movie is of a little beggar girl tapping on the window of a car and asking for food by making motions with her hands. The image was spot on, even down to her hand motions and the little bobble of her head.

Then there was the stuff that was so accurate it was creepy. At one point they show a little blind boy begging at the bottom of the stairs in a subway (underground passage). I used to regularly go through a subway to avoid crossing the crazy street above, and just about every time I would see a little blind boy begging.

And to top it all off, there is a song playing in the background of one scene which of course happened to be from one of three Bollywood movies I saw while in India. What are the chances?

I could go on, but I think you get the idea. Slumdog Millionaire captures poverty in India well.

But from just reading this you would think that it's a really depressing movie. That it's all beggars and garbage and poverty. And there is a fair share of really difficult images. But in the end, the movie leaves you with a feeling of hope... of redemption. On top of all that, the movie revolves around a simple and beautiful love story.

And come on. Who doesn't love... [SPOILER ALERT] ...a happy ending???

A new meaning for "manual labor"...

There are no wheelbarrows in India.

Ok, that might be a bit of hyperbole... but in all honesty, I've never seen one here. Nor have I seen any backhoes or jackhammers or earth movers. Nearly everything in India, from construction to landscaping to demolition, is done by hand. And when I say "by hand," I mean by hand.

When workers have to move a huge pile of gravel, they carry it on their heads. When builders are pouring cement for a roof, they lug it up on their backs. When a crew has to demolish a driveway, they use pickaxes.

This guy has to move a mountain of gravel using nothing
more than a shovel and a metal plate.

Many of these workers face rather treacherous conditions, too. I've seen men resting on the edge of a four story building without any harnesses. Several times I've noticed guys climbing rickety scaffolding in flip-flops. It's not uncommon to see entire construction sites without a single hardhat.

And at the end of a backbreaking 11 hour day, these unbelievably hard-working people head home with maybe 40 rupees ($1) in wages. 80 if they're lucky. Barely enough to feed themselves, much less their families.

These three guys were hired to demolish this driveway.
They're holding all the tools they'll get to finish the job.

So what is the cause of all of this unjust labor? Why are so many people willing to work so hard for so little? Why don't they do something about it?

Well, it all comes down to this... India is absolutely swarming with people willing to work for pennies just to have a job. Even if laborers were to walk off a job site in protest, hundreds of able-bodied men and women would be eager to take their place.

Every single day, thousands of rural Indians pour into the city to make a new life for themselves. What they find, however, is a cruel and unfeeling metropolis that devours the weak and the non-compliant. So they stay. They sweat. They toil. And the rich sit back and relax.

If you look in just about every park or garden in Delhi, you'll see
groups of unemployed men and women waiting for work.

Now, before we start condemning exploitative Indian employers, we need remember that unjust labor is a problem all over the world. Even in our own lives! Look around the room. Look at what you're wearing. How much do you think someone earned for making your shirt? What about the computer you're using? Were the workers who built it treated fairly?

You see, the truth is, even though we can't see it, our lives are intimately connected to those of poor laborers all over the world! Sure, we're not forcing people to mow our grass by hand, but you can't deny that to make our lives easy, many other people must work extra hard. It's an awful injustice, made ever worse by the fact that we are so distant from it.

Now, I'm really sorry if I'm coming off like Debbie Downer about this. I'm not trying to send you on a guilt trip. I'm not trying to make you feel frustrated and helpless. I promise.

I am simply hoping to make us all more aware. Aware of the fact that our shoes didn't just appear one day on the store shelf. Aware that our cell phone had to be assembled by someone. Aware that our coffee beans were actually picked by a person's hand.

It's taken me two trips half-way around the world to grasp this vital truth: My life is connected to theirs.

Hopefully I can remember that the next time I pick out a pair of jeans...

Indian Food... the real kind.

Eating in India has become a bit of an adventure for me. Since being here, I've had my mental image of what constitutes "Indian food" radically altered, and I've had to put my "I'll try anything once" vow to the test several times...

Now, when most people think of Indian food, I'm sure they picture beautiful buffets full of tender meats and succulent vegetables cooked in exotic spices, saffron colored rice piled high and waiters bringing hot garlic naan to the table. That's what I pictured before coming.

Well, after two months in India, I can conclusively say that it is exactly like that here... At really expensive restaurants.

But I don't eat at expensive restaurants. I eat at the office. With a bunch of guys from rural Maharastra. These are guys that laughed at me when I mentioned Chicken Tikka Masala (I don't think I get the joke). And they eat what they've always eaten. Real Indian food.

I'm pretty sure the conditions in the office kitchen wouldn't stand up to health code regulations in the States. Everything is prepared on the same stretch of counter. Chapati, veggies, meat... They wipe it down with a cloth every once and a while, but still.

Indresh, our talented cook, with Ulhas
in the kitchen preparing dinner.

And then there are the critters. We seriously have a family of Uruk-Hai cockroaches living under the fridge. They have no fear of sunlight. Or of humans. I could have sworn that one of them cursed at me when my back was turned.

But they're not the only species in our kitchen ecosystem. The other day, Pranjal and I were putting our dishes away when a huge rat jumped through the window, ran around the stove and launched himself on top of the cupboards.

"Don't worry. We'll kill him tomorrow" he said.

"Oh, ok. Cool." I replied, laughing.

An average dinner with a few of the office guys.

Usually I'm totally fine with the food I am served. Sure, steamed okra gets a little old three nights in a row, and sometimes the curry is so hot that burping burns three hours later. But generally the food is really good! There have been times, however, when they've served up something that I just can't finish.

The other night, I noticed that the table was missing something. We had the veggies, the chapati, the dal. Hmmm... Where was the main dish? As we started eating, Ulhas came out of the kitchen humming with excitement. "Two minutes!" He told everyone.

Two minutes later, he came back out with a big bowl full of red curry and goat's feet. Goat's feet, guys. I mean, goat brain is slimy and gross, but at least it looks like a normal meat dish. Here was a bowl full of hooves and ankles. I almost lost it.

In my head I kept repeating the mantra, "I'll try anything once. I'll try anything once. I'll try anything once." And I did. I took two bites, struggling to chew and swallow the tough, rubbery meat. Thankfully, my mantra didn't say anything about finishing it.

The whole time, my mind kept switching between hilarity and nausea. At one point, one of the other guys asked me how we prepare goat's feet in the U.S.! "We don't exactly eat that part of the goat," I said, not mentioning the fact that most Americans wouldn't even know what a goat looks like if it weren't for The Sound of Music.

Well, long story short, I made it through the meal without barfing all over the table. And right now, I'm sure many of you want to run off to cook up some tasty goat's feet for yourselves! Apparently they're called "trotters," which just so happens to be one of the absolute worst food names in existence. I found a recipe here. You're welcome.

Don't worry. No goat feet here. Just some regular old mutton
curry. Which is, of course, goat meat. But the tasty kind...

So, all that to say, even though my experience with Indian food has been a bit, um... authentic, I'm still really enjoying it. At the very least I'm getting some good stories, right? I'll dominate at "Two truths and a lie" now!

And to think. I used to get squeamish eating anything with a bone still on it...

Personal Space...

"Um, why is this guy leaning on me?" "Ma'am, do you have to stand quite so close?" "Uh, is he really resting his knee on my thigh?"

Questions like these run through my head all the time here. It seems like whenever I am in a public place, there is always someone touching me. As an American, this weirds me out! In the good ol' U.S. of A., we are champions of the "personal bubble," and rarely do we allow people to get inside. So you can imagine how strange it is to suddenly have that bubble breached by a complete stranger.

As you can see in this illustration, it is not Ok to breach

another person's personal bubble.

About a month ago, as I sat on the ground at a worship service, the man sitting in front of me began gradually leaning on me. It was pretty tight in there, but not that tight. I shifted my weight to regain my space. A few minutes later, there he was again, shoulder resting on my knee. I wanted to do something, say something. But what could I possibly come up with?

For weeks after this I asked myself, why do Indians seem to have no problem being in each others' personal space? Is this just some sort of weird cultural thing, or what?

But then, after several trips on Delhi's public transportation, the answer dawned on me. People in New Delhi don't have any personal space, so there's no reason to protect it for anyone else.

New Delhi has over 11 million inhabitants crammed into just 270 square miles (and this is just the city proper! It's over 18 million if you include the surrounding area!). No matter how you count the population of Delhi, it is one of the top 10 most populous cities in the world. In other words, there are a lot of people living in not a lot of space.

It's crowded in Delhi! Ok, ok. This is a rally, where
it's supposed to be crowded, but still!

Going to the market, there is a crush of people everywhere. Driving in traffic, three lanes are packed six cars across. Even public parks have people sitting under every tree. This place is full of people.

Riding on the bus in New Delhi is a perfect example of this. Just today I had to jump onto a moving bus with three other guys, pulling myself on in an effort to get a space. Once on board, travelers crammed to the front, lucky if they could get a seat. Most had to stand in the aisle, holding onto the rail above as the bus lurched on to the next stop to let on more passengers.

On a bus in New Delhi. I actually got a seat! Of course,
some guy had his belly resting on my shoulder the
whole time, so I can't decide if I was lucky or not...

So now, after almost two months in India, my attitude is changing. Sure, I still like my space, but I'm beginning to realize that all the awkward touching and uncomfortable contact is really not all that awkward or uncomfortable after all. Here, it's just a part of life. I really can't complain.

Besides, I've learned a valuable lesson through all of this. As an American, I know that I take for granted all sorts of things: running water, electricity, cheese... But I never would have expected one thing that I take for granted every single day:

The space around me.

Maharastra - Part 2

If you read Maharastra - Part 1, you know that I had plenty of crazy stories from the first few days in rural India. But things got even cooler after that...

First of all, I met so many unique people that I have a hard time keeping them all straight in my head. I met ancient men and women who were there at the beginning of the Dinbandhu ministry. I met young Christian men who wanted nothing more than to sit at the feet of the Sardars and head out to plant churches of their own.

These sweet elderly villagers were among the first to
receive Christ in the area many years ago.

But there is one meeting that stands out in my memory as both unique and unforgettable. One evening, Sunil invited me to join a group of visiting Muslims for dinner. They were meeting with Sunil and Nitin (his brother) at the church to honor a high-ranking police officer who had, in the recent past, done great work in protecting lower-caste people.

I was blown away by how effortlessly they dialogued about the issues of caste, discrimination and injustice. They were fighting for the same cause, despite their differences of religion. It was powerful. And, upon seeing it for myself, it became a phenomenon no longer limited in my mind to the musings of guys with faux-hawks and soul patches!

Another experience that will stick with me for a long while was a night-time visit to a village that had mostly burned down (due to the fact that there is no water source within 3km). Nitin and the Dinbandhu guys were going to pass out relief supplies and share the gospel with the village, which had never heard it in any form...

To get there, we had to walk about a half of a mile through ankle deep mud in the dark! Wearing jeans and flip-flops, I wasn't exactly prepared for such a treacherous journey. Thankfully, the sheer gratitude of the villagers more than made up for any discomfort I felt. In fact, I had to suppress tears in the midst of the ceremony. This was the gospel (the "good news") being lived out.

The whole village gathered to hear what Nitin had to say.

Oh, but things were not to remain peachy forever. No. For a hideous and monstrous illness found only in the remotest regions of central India struck me down. The common cold. Wait, what? Of all things to get while visiting Maharastra, I get a cold?

Well I'll tell you one thing. It was some cold. I came down with a really bad fever that has come and gone for almost a week. To give you an idea of how high it was, we took my temperature at a point in which I was feeling pretty good. 101.9! Yikes. How bad was it when I wasn't feeling so great?

Well, as with most experiences of this trip, my "cold" became a valuable learning opportunity. The moment word got out that I was sick, everyone just poured into my room to pray for me, bring me chai, force feed me a bunch of really shady looking pills... In other words, a beautiful example of a community coming together to comfort a stranger in need. Wow.

I had one last adventure before returning to Delhi. The Indian railways. Instead of flying back, I decided to take a train alone. When I got onto the train, I was surprised to see that my seat was actually this tiny 6'x2' bunk crammed along one wall near the ceiling. It was, um... cozy. And quite a memorable experience. A 15 hour-long memorable experience. :)

Me laughing about how tiny my bunk was. At least I could almost stretch out all the way if I lay down!

Driving back into Delhi Thursday morning however, I had a bit of re-entry shock. It was early morning, so I was privy to a sight I had not seen before. Row after row of homeless men, women and children sleeping on the sidewalks and medians.

The sight was bitterly sobering. And it reminded me once again of the reason why I am here...

Maharastra - Part 1

Well, I'm back in Delhi, and wow. What an experience! Instead of trying to cram it all into one blog post, I'm going to spread it out over two. Check back tomorrow for the second installment.

So, as I said in my previous post, we left rather suddenly for Maharastra on July 24. I was right about flying there, I was wrong about exactly where we were going. We actually went to Nagpur, which is almost smack in the middle of the country. From there, our travels took us south to Yavatmal, where we spent most of our time.

In pure Indian fashion, I almost never had any idea what I would be up to on any given day. Most of the time, our journeys to villages, schools, ministries, etc. began with Sunil coming into the room and saying, "Ok, let's go." I would follow him to the car, having no idea just where we might end up.

The end of the wedding ceremony.

For example, I had some vague notion that there was a wedding happening at some point. Little did I know that it would be our very first stop upon landing in Nagpur! We pulled up to the building, and were ushered up to the front of the ceremony. There I was, in a t-shirt and jeans, sitting at the front with everyone staring at me. Awkward. Haha...

As we continued on our journey, we stopped to eat at a really sketchy roadside "restaurant." the food was actually pretty tasty. But I'm not going to lie, I was a little worried when Sunil ended his prayer with, "And don't let Barry get any diseases from the food. Amen." It was one of many moments where I laughed to myself and thought, "How in the world did I end up here???"

The Head Chef and Sous Chef hard at work... Haha!

Driving in rural India is quite the experience. Beautiful countryside, scenic vistas, and screaming two ton trucks roaring by just three inches away from your head. With signs on the road such as "Be safe than never!" "This is road, not Aerostrip!" and the slightly ominous "Death rides the fast car.", I couldn't help but tense up a bit with the closest of the close calls.

Most of the cities and villages we visited had a similar look and feel to each other. Very green, very rural, but still very dirty. Everywhere you look you can see cows lying in the road, goats wandering the streets and enough stray dogs to make Bob Barker weep.

Some cows. Just chillin. In the road.

We spent our nights at the guesthouse for a ministry called Dinbandhu ("Friend of the Poor"). It is a church-planting ministry that Sunil helped start and is now run by his brother Nitin and sister Smita. Very cool place. Though it started in Yavatmal, it has now spread to Wardha and Nagpur, and has reached thousands upon thousands of people in the area.

One of the practical extensions of Dinbandhu is a techincal training school for young men. It is a center to teach 16-20 year old tribal-caste boys practical life skills like welding, electrical wiring and computers. This is where I spent my third day.

Sunil's brother-in-law, who runs the school, took me out there via motorcycle, dropped me off, gave me a tour and basically said, "This is where you'll spend the day. I will be back in the afternoon." Then, he got back on the bike and was gone.

So there I was, surrounded by a bunch of teenage guys who didn't speak a lick of English (except one, who followed me around the entire time because he wanted to practice). We chatted for a while about everything from movies to dancing to sports. Mostly they just stared at me.

When I got here, they told me that staring is an
appropriate way to gather information. Apparently so.

Eventually I got to sit in one of their classes and have lunch with the boys. Afterwards, we climbed a nearby "mountain," then hiked across a river to a village down the road. Ended up being a pretty fun day. But there was one moment that I just have to share...

Before class began, one of the students got up to read a Bible verse and pray for a devotional (most of the new guys aren't Christians). He stood in the front and boldly proclaimed Mark 5:9. "Then Jesus asked him, 'What is your name?' 'My name is Legion,' he replied, 'for we are many.'" Let's pray.

I don't know about you, but it left me good and truly blessed... :)

Well, I'll write more tomorrow. If you are interested in seeing all the pictures of my India trip (with comments added), click here. Or, if you are just interested in the ones from my Maharastra trip, those start here. See ya!

Well, I guess I'm off...

Apparently I am leaving in 8 hours for Maharastra, a state in western India. And I found this out, oh, about an hour ago...

It was such a perfectly Indian moment. We were sitting in the office chatting when the topic of our sometime-in-the-near-future trip to Maharastra came up (it's been in the works for a while, but it's always been "next week or something"). I said "Have you bought the tickets? When do we leave?" To which Sunil replied, "Tomorrow! You didn't know???"

So. Maharastra. We will be flying down to a rural town in the general vicinity of Pune (I think!) and seeing the ministry of Sunil's brother. That's literally all I know. Where will we be staying? No idea. What will we be doing? No idea. How long will we be there? No idea.

According to Sunil, I can take a train back whenever I want. If I'm really enjoying myself, I can stay longer than a week. If not, I can just come back with him. Haha! Talk about flexibility.

So, all that to say, I probably won't be able to blog or email much while I'm away, but don't worry. I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures.

See ya!

Eunuchs on the Fringe

This is an in-depth account of my experience with Deshpande on Sunday (sorry about the length!). I am sure a topic such as this will raise questions, and I am more than willing to answer with what I know. Please email me or leave comments if you are curious to learn more.

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A quick glance at the Indian population will reveal that it is a culture of divisions. Because of the 3000 year old caste system, huge swaths of society are ostracized, ignored and even hated. But even among those on the fringes, divisions remain. There is one group of people that is persecuted by virtually everyone… Eunuchs.

The term “eunuch” may evoke antiquated images of Egyptian courtiers or Roman treble singers, but the phenomenon is very real to this day. Some sources say that there are at least one million eunuchs in India today.

A south-Indian eunuch (hirja).
Photo: courtesy Mgarten at en.wikipedia

There is some confusion and debate as to how these eunuchs came to be this way. Many eunuchs are purposefully castrated. Many are simply born that way. However, one thing is abundantly clear: eunuchs are on the fringe of the fringe of Indian society, and have little hope of change anytime soon.

Because of how severely eunuchs are ostracized, many turn to prostitution as a means of income. As a result, a large portion of the eunuch population is HIV positive. With little hope for a “normal” life, Indian eunuchs form small communities in the slums, caring for themselves and each other because no one else will dare.

No one that is, except for Deshpande the Truthseeker. Deshpande is a 30 year old college graduate living in Delhi. For reasons that he cannot explain, God has called him to minister to a population of around 20 eunuchs on Delhi’s poverty-ravaged east side.

Deshpande and I visiting Red Fort in Delhi.

I had the amazing opportunity of riding with him as he made his weekly visit to his persecuted friends. I walked away from the experience with a deep respect for Desphande and for the ministry to which he is called.

To get there, we took an hour-long rickshaw ride through heavy rush-hour traffic. Choking on exhaust fumes, I asked Desphande how he became involved with the eunuchs. He told me that one day, out of nowhere, he felt a strong calling from God to minister to the eunuch population. So, despite his own fears and misgivings, he pursued this unique calling.

As we drove, I noticed the quality of the area steadily decreasing. The eunuchs live in a tight, crowded slum. The neighborhood is made up of two story concrete buildings separated by dark, muddy alleys. Though I’ve seen several slums before, I was still amazed to see people actually living in such conditions.

The city of Delhi, a throbbing metropolis with over
17 million inhabitants.

After we got out of the rickshaw, Deshpande began walking down an alley and I followed. Above us, a tangled web of electrical wires was strung about seemingly at random.

Arriving at the door of the small, one-room flat, a eunuch dressed as a woman met us. You could see in her eyes the respect she had for Desphande. So few people even talk to these eunuchs, much less love, respect and dignify them. We entered and sat on a bed as three other eunuchs joined us.

The eunuchs, though dressed as women and speaking with feminine voices, had masculine features. They looked at me shyly, and I did my best to convey my respect by smiling and shaking their hands.

Within minutes of arriving, Deshpande was in animated discussion with his friends about their worth and dignity, despite their flaws. At one point, he turned to me and said “Do you have problems too?” I nodded, a little confused. “See! Everyone has problems. Everyone sins. She is thinking that she is worthless because she sins. I am telling her differently.”

A much nicer area than the slum we were visiting,
but similar in the look and feel of the place.

After a few minutes, I had the chance to share a bit about the Beatitudes while Deshpande translated. I ended by saying, “I believe that if Jesus (Baliraja) were physically here today, he would not be in the temple or in the mosque, he would not be in a government office or having dinner with some rich people. He’d be right here in this room, because you are the ones who are blessed.” And sitting there in that room, I truly believed it.

We prayed, we talked some more, and just like that, we were back on the road. Deshpande had given me a glimpse into his calling and ministry, and I was greatly encouraged. But on the way back, he shared a little more about the consequences of following this calling, and my respect for him grew even more.

“People accuse me of things,” he told me. “They ask me ‘Why would you talk with those people?’” Apparently not everyone sees the value in Deshpande’s ministry. People accuse him of being gay or even of being a eunuch himself. Following this calling from God has strained and even broken many of Deshpande’s relationships.

Yet he will not stop. “This is God’s calling,” he continued. “When God calls you to something, what else can you do?”

Deshpande will continue this difficult ministry to these beloved children of God, despite the criticisms he receives. I can only hope that I too will approach my calling with the same level of commitment and selflessness.

I have been totally blown away by Deshpande’s ministry, and I hope you have as well. Remember… when God puts a calling on your life, “what else can you do?”

Settling in...

Wow. Now that was an intense first week! Well, intense in the sense that I was totally immersed in a foreign culture, eating only spicy food and relying on my internal dialogue for company... Other than that, it was pretty easy. :)

Not going to lie. I definitely woke up a few times (jet lagged at 3:00am) thinking to myself, "What have I done???" But now that I'm getting settled, three months doesn't seem quite so bad. In fact, I'm super excited about the things going on here!

I've been able to get to know the Truthseekers staff, see a bit of what their ministry is all about, and do a lot of reading and research into India and the caste system. Oh, and I've eaten an absurd amount of mind-numbingly amazing mangoes (seriously, you can eat them with a spoon).

Also, I'm getting the hang of eating all my food with my right hand (like everyone else here). A little tricky to begin with, but I'm pretty much a pro now. The most important lesson I've learned so far: when someone hands me something to eat with a big smile saying "try this, try this!", I'm about to eat something so hot it melts brain cells.

Since I last wrote, I've been able to travel around the city with the guys from the office. Pranjal and Deshpande took me to see the Red Fort and Jama Mosque, both rather stunning in their architecture and history. You can see more pictures of our trip here.

On the social justice side of things, I've been experiencing a lot. On our trip into Old Delhi, I was able to witness the crushing poverty of the inner city here, and saw many things I will not soon forget.

One of those sights was a baby, no older than two, waddling around on the side of a crowded street, totally alone. I looked and looked, and saw nobody watching out for him. Even worse, many people passed by that never gave the baby a second glance. To my horror, I have seen the same phenomenon several times since then.

I met a group of persecuted eunuchs in a slum on the east side (more on that tomorrow), visited a school for Shudra (lower caste) children who would otherwise get no education, and I've seen beggars, cripples, lepers... pretty much everything one would need to see to realize that the world is not as it should be.

So, all in all, I'm having a really significant time.

If, for some odd reason, you want to keep up with my day-to-day activities, you can follow me on Twitter. It's basically just a one or two sentence summary of what I'm up to at any given moment.

Oh, one last thing... I took this video while riding in a rickshaw. Thought you might need proof of just how crazy the driving is here...

The non-West again!

I made it! After more than 24 hours of driving, flying and sitting, I found myself here in New Delhi. Just moments after getting off the plane, I was once again immersed in the strange and exciting world of the non-West… and I love it! I think…

You know, returning to the developing world is a little bit like jumping into a freezing lake after not swimming for three years. First there is the shocking cold, then trying to remember how to swim, but eventually it all starts to come back. Right now, however, I think I’m still trying to catch my breath! Ok ok… can’t take that analogy much farther (besides... it's really hot here). Here’s what I’ve been up to:

A couple of the guys from Truthseekers met me at the airport. I had to search hard to find them. Mainly because there were literally hundreds of other people holding name cards, but also because I didn’t know any of them and my name was spelled “Barry Rodrgue” or something. Close enough.

After we met up, we piled into a car and drove to Sunil’s house. Now, if you’ve never driven in the developing world, you probably don’t have any concept of just how crazy the driving is. Let me see if I can capture it…

In Kenya I was always a bit shocked and amused to see how close people drove to one another. There were no such things as lanes. Horns honking, squeezing in between other cars, pedestrians crossing in the middle of it all… It was crazy. But believe me when I say that Indian driving puts Kenyan driving to shame. Read the third paragraph of this old post, then imagine all of that at speeds of 50 or 60 mph!

Today was spent mostly sitting around the Truthseekers office, meeting the staff, reading… I suspect it’s going to be laid back like this for a little while. I do know that on Monday, Sunil will be taking me with him to travel out into the rural areas, and on the 27th, we will be doing some actual cross-country travel (taking airplanes and busses, etc.). Looking forward to that.

Please keep me in your prayers. I’m adjusting to a new schedule, a new diet, a new environment and new relationships. Needless to say, it’s a bit draining!

Otherwise, I’ll talk to you all later!

p.s. If you are interested in audio or video chatting with me some time, my Skype name is “islaywombats.” Who knows how good the connection will be, but at least it's free...

Caste today, yesterday...

Well, I guess it's official. I'm leaving for India on July 8! Bought my tickets, bought my insurance... It's just a matter of waiting now.

I've been doing tons of reading about everything from ancient Indian history to Brahmanism to 15th century Indian poetry. Seriously, there is a pile of books on my coffee table.

As I've been reading about the Caste system and "untouchability," as it's called, I've been struck with the similarities between modern Indian society and the world of the New Testament writers. It's fascinating. There is a class of people that is not physically touched at all (Dalits/Lepers), there are deeply rooted stereotypes about entire sections of society (Shudras/Samaritans), and there is an educated elite that believes holy scripture gives them privilege (Brahmans/Pharisees).

Add that to the fact that many people where I'll be going have never even heard of Jesus and his teachings, and you can see why I'm so very curious. Imagine how the Sermon on the Mount would be received by the lower castes... "Blessed are the poor in spirit," "Blessed are the hungry," "Blessed are the meek..."

That was pretty revolutionary stuff back in its day. Maybe it should be still.

If you are interested in seeing a little bit of what I'm talking about, check out this short video. It's a segment from a longer documentary called "India: Untouched."

The truth-seeker's fight...

Here is a great quote from Kabir, a 15th Century Indian Poet (possibly where Truthseekers Intl. gets their name... I'll have to ask):

It is a hard fight and a weary one, this fight of the truth-seeker: for the vow of the truth-seeker is more hard than that of the warrior, or of the widowed wife who would follow her husband.

For the warrior fights for a few hours, and the widow's struggle with death is soon ended: But the truth seeker's battle goes on day and night, as long as life lasts it never ceases.

India!!!

Just a quick update about where I'll be spending my summer. From July 8 till... well, till I leave, I'll be in New Delhi, India!!! How cool is that?

I'll be spending my time traveling around the country with Sunil Sardar of Truthseekers International. Sunil is sort of a big deal around India because of his steadfast commitment to bring an end to the caste system.

While in India, I'll be following in Sunil's footsteps as he meets with government leaders, speaks at Christian leadership seminars, and baptizes people in the Ganges river, among other things (ok, tell me that won't look good on my resume!).

Sunil has told me that he has several college-aged students that he wants me to meet, and I am super-excited about the potential friendships that may emerge. Also, I have asked to live with a Muslim or Hindu family for at least two weeks, and Sunil says that it won't be a problem. I'm looking for full immersion here...

Obviously, there will be many more details to come. But for now, check out the video below to get a taste of what my life will be like for the next several months!