hall your bags of grain to the front door and be wealthy....

There once was a man, he was a good man, and though he was not wealthy, neither was he poor. One day this man was praying to God when suddenly He appeared. “Do not be afraid my child,” God said. The man in shock jumped back, “have I done something to fall out of your favor God?” God smiled and slowly shook His head ‘no’. “I have come to grant you one wish.” The man, still suffering from the first bout of shock collapsed. “What have I done to deserve such a gift?” he breathlessly asked. God replied, “you have always prayed to me and been devoted, you have lived a good life and though I rarely ever do these types of things, I have decided to grant you one wish, what ever that wish may be.” The man filled with anticipation and excitement stepped closer, thoughts of all the wishes he had in his life flashed through his mind. Suddenly the man shouted, “I want to be the richest man in the world!” With a smile on His face God said, “your wish has been granted, return to your home, and there you will find three bags of grain. As long as you live, these bags will never be empty, and you will never want for food.” Then just as He appeared, God disappeared. Once the man was able to come out of his state of shock, he began to grow angry with God. How could God trick him to think that wealth was three endless bags of grain? The man angrily walked home furious with God for the trick He had played on him. So the years passed, and though the three bags of grain never were empty, the man was never satisfied. Finally, the man was dying, and while lying on his deathbed, God again appeared to him. The man, though ill as he was, rose from his bed and angrily yelled at God, “you promised me wealth, but you tricked me with three bags of never-ending grain. What happened to the wealth that you promised me?” cried the man. God calmly said, “oh but child, I did give you wealth, those three bags of grain have never been empty, and you have always had more than you needed, yet when your neighbors were hungry you never offered any of your surplus to them. When the homeless and hungry children begged for food you coldly turned them away. I had given you plenty of times to use the grain I gave you to do with what you wanted. Instead of sharing with those who had little, you let anger and resentment fill your heart. Little did you know, that if you had given of what you had, those neighbors would have returned the favor when they got back on their feet three times over, while those that were hungry and homeless too would have returned your kindness in many other ways that would have advanced your wealth, had you just used what you had to offer…When you give to others, you get more than you give.”

This is a Sikh story that was told to my by Winnie. At the time, it was poignant, yet its true meaning didn’t hit me until today. So many times, I realized, I worry about not having enough shampoo or enough toothpaste. God forbid that I run out of Mac makeup, or that there isn’t enough chocolate for me to have seconds…..So, in order to feel secure and ‘fulfilled’, I buy more than is needed, I eat more than is needed…. This way, when I need it, it will be there. Not unlike other people, the feeling of ‘not having enough’ or ‘not getting enough’ terrifies us. We want to make sure that we have enough, so in our need to be prepared, we over spend, overeat, and over use. And by the time we realize that we can’t fill the void, we are either in debt, overweight, friendless, or all three…So, after we have read all the self-help books we can read, and when we actually start listening to the Man Upstairs, do we realize that all those unnecessary things we have been attempting to stuff in the void were all wrong… What our soul, yes soul, needed all along was….duh! soul food…. No, not the kind from mama’s kitchen, unless it was her sound advice, but the kind of soul food that comes from giving, from believing in something more than any material item, from praying and giving thanks for the blessings we receive everyday… All of a sudden, Winnie’s story makes sense to me. Instead of being a pleasant story, it was a wake up call for me. Sometimes it is so obvious that we must give, like me working in the slums and feeding the hungry children. But other times, it is less obvious and more subtle. We must always be willing to give to someone who has less than us. God has made us all wealthy, it is just our choice in how we use that wealth. When you have a little extra, or a lot extra for that matter, would it hurt to share with someone who doesn’t have an extra this or that? Don’t suspect that everyone is out for a free ride, while there are those that will use you, there are so many more that need you. These past couple of weeks for me have been wonderful and sad all at once. I see happiness, and I see pain. I realize that many times, we humans are full of self-importance, not that we aren't important, but it is hard for us to see other people's importance when all we see is our own. So today, and from this day forward, I will scoot my bags of grain to the front door of my home, and let no woman/child/man who passes go hungry.

On a different note, our National conference is just one week away. We are all rushing here and there to get everything prepared for the big day. I have learned more about using computers and their confounded programs than all three and a half years of college! I am looking forward to a change of pace once this chaotic event is finished. Things are a little slower in regards to my slum clinic. We are short of funds and hands. HOWEVER, I know that God will see us through this rough spot and provide us with the things that we need. He already has shone me that He will never let me fall from His protection, just a week ago, the government gave us a bigger building for Asha Setu just a block away. Not only that, but they have agreed to pay for remodeling and reconstruction of the land surrounding the buildings as well.

I will be traveling to Shillong later on this month after the conference is done to go through an orientation for working at Maitri's other work cites in the North of India. Besides working long hours at Maitri, I have had little chance to see the country, however, Winnie has promised to remedy this once things slow down a little more after the pending conference. I am looking forward to this.

The weather here is ever-changing, and it has taken its' tole on me. My body temperature rises and falls much like the weather itself. Indian weather can be tricky like that, or so says, Sonal and Winnie. The curious thing is that the weather has been cool and nice. I can never figure out myself when it comes to these things. I am just too complicated. So, until my body figures out what temperature it wants to be, I will continue to carry a shawl and a fan to keep me warm or cool.

I have been doing alot of cooking for the General since coming here. Much to Winnie's dismay, he has put on a couple of pounds since. I am also teaching their cook, Shanti, how to prepare these dishes as well. They want to have American food, so I have made a number of American dishes such as: twice-baked potatoes, chicken-pot-pie, chocolate cake, apple fritters, and country butter biscuits... It is funny how I have always considered myself an insufficient cook, but all those visits to Grandma Shirley's have paid off. Almost everything I know about cooking has come from her, mostly because she was the only one who had the patience to teach a very impatient pupil. I always think of her when I make strawberry shortcake and apple pie. So, when I am feeling the most homesick, cooking, not eating (can you believe that?!), helps me think of those I love the most.... I miss you very much Grandma Shirley and all the rest of you...Until the next blog, hall your grain bags to the front door people~K

plastic is precious....but so it chocolate.

My sophomore year of college, I took a women’s studies class. One particular topic, which happened to be my favorite, was about a woman’s need to bitch… Pardon my French; however, for any woman that is reading this, you know at times this is so true. HOWEVER, the second part to the topic surrounds the fact that men, many times, don’t understand this complex necessity of bitching, instead they want to give us solutions to our problems… What we, or shall I say I, (since I don’t know how all women feel), need is a man to listen without offering his solutions….Not that solutions are bad things, but when a woman really needs to get it out of her, one of the ways to do it is the traditional bitch session…With this said, yesterday I was in need of one of these sessions, but unfortunately, I was lacking on the extra estrogen and couple of pairs of this and that which would be needed for this. I have two guy roommates, and while this is not a bad thing, which believe me it isn’t….It can be a little depressing when one needs some bitch relief only to have to hold it in… Not to mention there was a scarcity of chocolate, Lifetime, and/or bubbles and a tub. AND if I did decide to include them in some female bonding, I think I would scare them to the next plane out of Delhi…. Around the time I was feeling 500 degree flames scorching off my back and head, I found my self squooshed in between my two roommates in a rickshaw on our way to Vasant Vihar. As usual, the driver was careening through the traffic, and we seemed to hit every possible rut, and mud puddle that Delhi has….I felt myself headed towards a major explosion. This is when I began employing the special breathing technique that Winnie’s yoga instructor taught me to use … “breathe in….let it out ahhhummmmm!” Still not working……So I looked out the rickshaw window so the guys wouldn’t have to see my pout, this is when I saw a guy naked from the waist down relieving himself against a wall on the street…..(thank God it was dark) Between gasping and turning my head the other way, I had an epiphany of sorts. While a, let’s say, “session” was long overdue, I was going to have to improvise…I needed a positive plan of action, so taking a deep breath I made myself say out-loud ten good things that happened to me that day. (I know it is corny, but I was desperate!) The guys liking the idea, decided to help me out… So I will share with you our list of things to be thankful for…

1. Jesus died for me on the cross…
2. I woke up today.
3. I had bathing water (even though it was ice cold and in a bucket!!!)
4. We had a perfectly clear blue sky for the first time since coming to India.
5. I actually ate some Indian food that I liked at dinner.
6. We were able to access the internet
7. We didn’t get ripped off for the fare on the rickshaw (a first!)
8. Matt and Phil paid for the rickshaw
9. I had two somewhat normal roommates…. (wink, Matt and Phil)
10. I can always count on God loving/liking me no matter what crazy stuff I do.

I will admit, this didn’t extinguish all my flames, but I learned something in this exercise. Want to know what that is? I learned that sometimes the best thing to do instead of totally freaking out on someone is to breathe and call a 1-800 number and take it out on them….Okay, being more serious, I learned that sometimes the people we love love us the only way they know how. Maybe it isn’t the way we want it, maybe it pisses us off, but at the end of the day the only way to look at it, is pure and simple love. Isn’t it crazy how so many of us spend our whole lives pissed off at those who love us the most? One of the reasons God didn’t give man a dictionary is so that he could figure out life’s meanings for himself. I think the definition of love is much like this….Love is what you make of it, but no matter what, it is there, you just have to really look and it is there…..

Just so my recounting doesn’t mess you up date wise, I am writing for two days worth of life experiences. Today was Valentine’s Day, and when I woke up, I remembered that my dad used to buy my sisters and I candy and cards….I was never without some good Valentine’s day candy when I lived at home….Oh the good ole days! (Violins playing) Considering the near inferno I had last night, I was in some real need of chocolate therapy. All I could think about was my grandma Shirley’s Texas sheet cake with my mom’s homemade chocolate frosting, and here it was Valentine’s day and not only did I not get Dad’s Valentine, but I had no damn chocolate. However, Winnie, the woman of my heart, came to my rescue! I had told her a couple days ago that I would like to make a chocolate cake, and when we arrived at her house this morning, she had all the ingredients I needed to make my grandma’s famous Texas sheetcake! Yippeeeeeee!!!!! I taught Shani (Winnie’s cook) and Prema (our assistant) how to make old fashioned Texas sheetcake with homemade chocolate frosting. The General kept popping in the kitchen asking for an updated report on the process of the cake. After a couple minor difficulties with ingredients, the cake was completed and after a good lunch the General, Winnie, Sonal, and we interns had cake. I won’t torture you with the details of my chocolate experience, but let’s put it this way; this is the first time in a month that I have had chocolate……

After our lunch, Winnie and I scrambled over to Ekta Vihar to meet with the women and children at Asha Setu. We are finalizing the details for the services we will offer to the women. We have consulted with many people in the textiles and trades industry trying to find resources in which we can tap into to help provide some economic relief to these families in Ekta Vihar. As I have stated in a previous blog, these women will sacrifice anything to see their children live a better life. So far, the women want to learn how to make clothes, quilt, embroider, and beauty care. Winnie and I are working on trying to get local business owners to donate anything they can to help us with getting this show in the road. Between preparing for this conference and opening up Asha Setu, we are crazy busy. There are only six full-time people working between the two projects we have cooking in Delhi. Winnie, Sonal, and the General also have Maitri projects going on in the northeast parts of India. Here in a couple of weeks, I will probably be going up to Shillong, which is in northeast India, to do some work up there as well. I know that Matt and Phil will go up as well, but perhaps not at the same time as me. (each of us are working on different projects) To get back to Asha Setu, Winnie and I have decided to get a couple of sewing machines to put into the rooms. We feel that once the women are able to start sewing and learning how to operate the machines, they will be closer to getting a job outside the slums. For the children as well as the women, we are going to also do literacy and English tutoring/lessons. Many of the women don’t even know how to read let alone spell their own name. (Most mark an ‘x’ for their name when signing something official) In one of the rooms, we have set up a computer room, in which, we will use to teach the children how to use the internet and play educational games….

So, after we got all of this sorted out in our meeting with the women, Winnie had one of our men bring a plastic box with little rolled up pieces of chocolate. The women and children eyed the box hungrily as one of the older women in the group distributed it out to open hands. As Winnie and I began to pack our stuff to leave, we noticed an argument going on over the box. I assumed that they were fighting over the candy, so I ignored it and left it to them to figure out. Yet, the argument continued to go on as we left, “why are they fighting over the candy, there is only three pieces, and they are so small?” I asked Winnie. She couldn’t figure it out either as is was such a small amount, but then, as if a light went off in her head she said, “ they are not fighting over the candy, they are fighting over who gets to keep the plastic box. Plastic boxes are precious commodities here in the slums. They are great to store food in without the animals and insects getting to it.” I was silent for the whole way back to the flat. I kept hearing the saying my dad always used when trying to explain to my mother why she shouldn’t throw out his beloved junk, “one man’s junk, is another man’s treasure.” Dad, if you are reading this, I couldn’t agree more .~K

~Indian weddings are Delhi's way of saying welcome~

When I first heard the wild pounding of drums and cracking booms of explosives in the air, I thought insurgents had invaded Delhi…We had arrived two days before Republic day, and Sonal had warned us that security was at a maximum due to the political strife that has plagued the government over the past couple of years….I stayed up that night, frightened to think of what would happen if those booms got any closer to our colony. They seemed so close, and I expected the worst. I fell asleep with my head under my pillow and covers. When I woke up the next morning, I expected to be told that we must leave as soon as possible to the U.S. embassy. But nothing happened, in fact my roommates acted as if they had had the best sleep in their lives. I wanted to scream, “didn’t you hear the insurgents”? But in my confusion, I decided to wait for Sonal to come, as I figured, my roommates being two guys didn’t want to act scared. And since I didn’t want them to think I was a complete pansy, I kept my mouth shut. Finally, when Sonal arrived, I waited patiently for her to tell us there were some political problems which would explain the explosions of the past night. She mentioned nothing…Being the inquisitive woman that I am, I asked her if there was some political uprising the night before. She looked at me with worry in her eyes, and asked why. Calmly, as if explaining to a child, I told her of the explosions and booms that I had heard from the night before. After my explanation a few seconds passed until she burst out in laughter. I thought for a moment she had gone mad, but then she laughingly explained to me that the explosions I heard were from firecrackers being set off in celebration of a wedding. The pounding and yells I had heard into the late hours of the night were that of the wedding party walking through the streets celebrating. Sheepishly, I laughed and felt a complete fool. I thought to myself, ‘I’ve gone and done it again; made an ass out of myself’. What an interesting first night in India that was….And to think that I missed out on a great fireworks show, with my head stuck under my pillow like an ostrich. When I think about it now, I will never forget it because it was the city’s way of welcoming me.

Delhi is not just a city, her people and culture, or even her history are just accessories. Delhi is like a person you have met for the first time, but feel as if you have known forever….I have since gotten used to the welcoming of Delhi. Weddings have a tendency to happen quite frequently here, so now the pounding of drums and cracking of firecrackers seem to be a soothing hum or lullaby. It reminds me of when my mother used to rock me and I would put my cheek to her breast and listen to her breathe and sing to me…. That is one of the most comforting feelings I can remember about my childhood, and to be reminded of that in a place so foreign and unfamiliar to me as Delhi is….It is a gift from God. The Lord knows at times, I am family sick…. And in answer to that, He gave me the gift of remembrance. Many times, we don’t even realize these gifts, but when we do, it can bring about a warmth that no blanket, fire, or heater can produce. So for now, the beating of the drums and the popping sounds of firecrackers in the distance echo through the dark blue night sky and fill me with a sense of security. Even the pigeons which scratch incessantly at my window and create many a restless night can’t take away the calm I feel right now. With that as I my last thought of the day, I will take advantage of my gift and sleep peacefully with the scent of my mother’s perfume in my nose, and the sound of her voice sung through the pounding of Delhi’s welcome. ~K

~"God has been good..." -Winnie~

God is too good of an artist to create ugliness…Yet, the stench that rises from greed and personal gain sullies His finest masterpieces. Whether I stand on the clean brick streets of the states, or on the roads littered with cows, cars, and people in Delhi, I am staring out at His work. Yet, both in my homeland and in this foreign land His work has been carelessly tarnished.

How easy it is to forget one’s imperfections when stung by those of others…. Without condemnation, I ask ‘how many of us nurse the stings of imperfection, while forgetting to mind our own stingers’? India has blown life’s reality into my nostrils and for the first time, I have smelt truth. I believe that it is once we are able to acknowledge truth that we can see beauty. Mind you, this is not man’s definition of beauty, but the beauty that does not come in a box that has no price tag, and is completely free…Beauty is the persistence of life even when the imperfections of man attempt to damper its existence. Beauty is humanity in its rawest form… As I sit in the small navy van that our driver maneuvers expertly through chaotic traffic, I am silenced by the assault to my senses…Humanity in its rawest form stares unapologetically at me, daring me to turn away. It won’t allow me to close my eyes or cover my nose…It will not let me close my heart nor pull my shawl over my ears. So I sit in silence, and listen, and hear, and smell, and feel.

Today we hashed out the details for the national conference that Maitri is hosting. It surrounds the topic of Universal Access and AIDS/HIV prevention for women and children. Winnie was not there as she went to a conference to give a presentation that I prepared for her on “Driving Innovation at the NGO Level”. So it was just the General (Winnie’s husband) and us three interns. I must tell you about the General, he is quite the original. From my past experience of military boarding school, I was always in awe of our three star general superintendent. He was a demigod and we cadets were the lowly serfs. The General is nothing like this, he stands at about 5’8” and his gray eyes are full of humor, mischief, and laughter. There is never a dull moment when he is in the room, and though he may not be tall or big, his presence is larger than life. He seems to know everybody and their mother. The house is always full of someone coming or going. Many times they are visiting dignitaries, rich entrepreneurs, yoga instructors, doctors, barbers, and anything else that you can imagine…However, today, unbeknownst to me, I met two of the leading experts in the field of AIDS/HIV. Dr. Joe Thomas Ph.D., the first expert, told me to call him Joe because no one could pronounce his Indian name, he just had gotten off a flight coming from Rwanda where his last assignment was with FXB International AID. The second was a quiet fellow by the name of Dr. Purohit, he just happens to work at Harvard in the stem cell research lab as well as FXB International. Both have a long list of titles and professional appointments that I have not mentioned, but I can’t remember all of them, and plus it would fill a couple of volumes. I have always had this image in my head that brilliant individuals such as these two gentlemen were either completely anti-social and lost in the world of scholarly theory, or completely full of themselves. They were neither, and combined with the great character that is the General, we all had a grand ole time. Plus, a lot of work was completed over many cups of herbal tea.

Patience a virtue?

Yesterday, the guys and I went to play basketball at Nehru Stadium. It is a large sports complex with basketball courts and cricket fields. Though it is winter here, I was hot, for the weather is about 60 degrees and humid. We then went to India's largest mosque, Jami masjid. Let me tell you, it was amazing, but VERY hectic. I can't count the times in which we have been husseled for our money. It is entirely free to enter the mosque, however, one must take of one's shoes before entering the mosque. They make you think that you have to leave your shoes there at the enterance, however, we learned later that we could bring our shoes with us as long as we carried them. Of course the man that was the shoe attendant at the enterance expects to be paid. Also, the man that offered to give us a tour, after we told him at least twenty times we did not want a tour stayed with us anyway and then hasseled us for money once we tried to leave.......Ugh! Patience and the ability to say "no" are needed when being an American in India. Though, the mosque and the sites around were extremely facisnating to see, the countless times we were hasseled and price gouged put a damper on the day for me. I returned to our apartment extremely disenchanted and with a pulsing heachache... I have decided, that in the future, I will be asking Sonal or Winnie to accompany me.

As for the reset of our day, we spent walking around the old streets of Delhi. We saw parts of the old Mughal empire still in tact and still being used for everyday use. We then ate at this smart restraunt on our way back from Jami Masjid. I ate veggie fried rice and nan (Indian Bread) with a fresh lime soda. We walked about a mile before getting a rickshaw back to Som Vihar.

So this evening, I will be signing off, lesson learned~K

~Namaste~

Finally, I have something wonderfully interesting to talk about. For the last couple of days, I have been working in the Maitri office on some upcoming presentations. Not that it wasn't interesting for me, however, I will not bore you with the technicalities of NGOs...To say the least, we are cooking up some great ideas!

Today, Prema and I met Sonal and Winnie for our first meeting at Asha Setu. It went even better than we had hoped. The small newly carpeted room was full of women residents from Ekta Vihar. But before I go any further, I must tell you from the beginning of how I met the women. Sonal had recommended that I wear as modest attire that I possessed, this was so that I would not offend the women, or attract unwanted ogling from the men. So, I dawned my kurta, salwar, and dupatta and headed out to Ekta Vihar on foot. Prema and I climbed the stairs to the second level of the centre only to be greeted by no less than ten women already seated on the floor. When they saw me, they all rose and welcomed me, "namaste, Ma'ma," they said, and ushered me in, directing me to the only seat in the room. I sat uncomfortably for one half of a second, then quickly, I slide the chair to the corner and sat on the ground next to an older women. They all seemed worried, as if it was sacrilegious for me to sit with them, but I felt a million times better sitting with them, rather then above them, as if I were the queen and they my servants. Of course, I consider myself a queen, yet, I was a young queen, sitting among many queens. If anyone was the servant, it was me, for I have much to learn and to do, to earn their respect, for I do not desire a superficial respect, yet, I want the type of respect that one earns with time and hard work. Not but a minute after I was seated with my new friends, then did Sonal and Winnie arrive. The meeting began...The meeting began with ten women and increasingly filled until the room was bursting, with women leaning in from the doorway and over each other's shoulders....We discussed the best resources that would benefit the children and themselves. Most of these women told us that they stayed at home doing the house work and raising the children, it is after this, that many of them would then rush to their second jobs in the wealthy areas of Delhi where they clean other people's houses, and watch other people's children. I could see the lines of worry as they spoke to Winnie about their wishes for their children. The only thing these women want, is a life that is better for their children. They are willing to do anything, sacrifice anything to ensure that the future of their children will be bright with opportunity.

When they ask me to teach them, I kindly ask them to teach me. There is so much hope in this little slum of Delhi. It shines bright with the smiles on the faces of the women and young girls that dare to dream of a better life for themselves and for their families. It shines bright with the love that these women possess for their children, and it shines bright because for one moment today, we all set together as queens on our plush thrones of carpet....and no one could take that away from us.

Alvida~K