Kris' Kronicles

-My friend Kris has been living in Varanasi (the city I'll be moving to in India), since last October. In the updates that he's sent during that time, he has done a beautiful job of capturing the wonders and the struggles of culture shock, language study, and the day to day chaos that is India. Reading about his experiences will give you a good picture of the sort of life I will have during my first 6 months in India.

"Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun" - Indian saying

What a crazy month this has been. I know it's been a long time since the last update, I even know it's been too long because of the numerous emails asking if I'm still alive. Well, rest assured, I'm still alive and kicking. The last month has been difficult. As I recall, it started about a month ago when I had really bad diarrhea again. I lost almost 10 lbs in one day. It took me about 5 days to recover from that. The temperature has been climbing steadily higher and highs lately are around 100, lows around 70. As it turns out, I'm just as heat tolerant as any other westerner except when it comes to sleeping. I've had far far too little sleep lately, usually not falling asleep until some time between 3 and 5 when my room finally cools down enough. Two days ago there was an amusing variation on the sleeping difficulties. Across the street from my apartment is a very wealthy family. There are many stories surrounding this family all of which involve the grandfather being kidnapped, the police unable to find him, and the family then turning to the mafia for justice. Regardless of the truths about their past, they now live rather above the law and seem to have all kinds of shady but powerful people as well as a steady stream of police continually coming to their house. It's well known here that the police and the mafia are practically the same thing anyway. So, two nights ago they had a party of some kind. There were maybe 8 guests that came to this party, and maybe 15 police officers to guard the outside. But none of that was unusual. What was unusual is that they started the music at 10:30pm and then continued to play that music until 5am. And I don't mean normal party volume, I mean they brought in rock concert sized speakers for the event. From anywhere within my apartment, you had to scream to talk to someone. So, for that night, 200 people didn't sleep for the sake of those 8 people having a good time.

I've definitely passed through the "honeymoon phase" where I can absorb the difficulties here as all part of the adventure. Right now I feel like I'm saturated with the difficulties and can't handle new ones very well. This, of course, is all very normal. I've heard that many people go through some culture shock again at around 4 months, which proved true for me. A few weeks ago it was really bad. It took all my strength to leave my apartment, and then all of the sensory overload that typifies this place would just make my head spin while I was outside. This was happening during the 3 or so weeks of spring before the heat came in so I'm attributing some of these culture shocks to spring fever. You are familiar with the symptoms of spring fever, however here in India most of the expectations that go with spring fever never happen. There is no running bare foot in fresh cut grass, there are no delicate spring flowers pushing through soft soil wet from melted snow, there are no family barbeques, etc. The result was that I was dealing with some strong feelings of discontent. I just wanted to be back home and I missed all those comfortable things that coincide with spring. Of course, the truth is that home was still getting pelted with snow and ice and looked nothing like the image I had conjured up in my head and was missing so much.

In the midst of all of these strong feeling I had one particular dream that I'll share with you. I've had a lot of dreams lately, that's part of disturbed sleep. At the peak of when I was thinking I wanted to be back home in "perfect" America and away from "miserable" India I had a dream where I was back home. In this dream I had all of the things that I was missing, it was perfect weather, everyone looked beautiful and smiling, all my friends were together at some kind of cookout. And yet, in the midst of this, the very thing I'd been longing for, I keep being reminded of India, and it became more and more difficult to hold back the tears. Finally, in the dream I greeted someone by saying, "Namaste," and that was the last straw. I began to weep and weep because I was in America and I missed India so much. I woke up immediately afterwards and thought... woah....that was weird.

But of course I know that'll be closer to the truth, even as I used that analogy of being saturated with difficulties, the truth is that being in India is to be saturated. That's why India is known for being a life changing place, it gets into you and you are never quite the same. There are good things and bad things which can seep into you, and of course part of the challenge of living here is to figure out how to adapt to India, how to allow the good things in and keep the bad things out. Some things have pluses and minuses. For example, the longer I've been here the more I've been able to feel and experience things from the spiritual realm. This is something I wish wasn't true when I go past a temple and catch a glimpse of the god at the center, that rotten core of what otherwise looks to be beautiful, and it causes me to be dizzy. I can feel that god sitting there with a smug look on his face, feel him laughing at me. Sometimes it's so strong I physically shake and feel nauseous. I'd prefer to be able to go past that idol as I used to be able to do and look at it as simply a piece of carved stone. However, on the other side of things, Jesus presence is also more tangible. I can't begin to imagine how I'd survive here if I didn't know Him. He is alive and He is at work here. I've seen Him heal body and soul. I've seen Him take the broken and hopeless and restore them to how they were created to be, I've seen Jesus in the faces of those who love Him. I know He does all of these things all over the world but here in this darkest of places is where I've also seen His light shining the brightest.

This year, the Hindu holiday of Holi is the same time as Good Friday. Holi is celebrated by burning huge bonfires in the streets, by getting very drunk, by getting high, and most famously by throwing colored powder at each other. In many places I'm told that this is a friendly holiday that can be a lot of fun (drunkenness and drugs excluded of course). However, here in Varanasi, it's taken a violent turn. Part of the celebration of Holi could be described as "opposite day" where a high caste Brahmin can lift up an untouchable street sweeper and carry him on his shoulders through the streets. However, here in Varanasi, it would be better described as "anarchy day" where anything goes--women are stripped of their clothing, punches are thrown at strangers, and any other of a wide variety of common sense unacceptable behavior. Naturally, it's most dangerous for westerners, and particularly women. The smartest thing to do is just to stay inside and watch from your balcony. This is a darker than normal time for the city and already there is a feeling something like a suppressed frenzy that runs like a shiver through the streets. This holiday is a perfect illustration that Hinduism is not the harmless soft passive religion it is so often described. It is a hopeless and scary religion full of angry or apathetic gods. Even the catch phase heard so often here said for the smallest and largest difficulty, "What to do?" is reference to the believe that man is no match for the wicked whims of the gods.

In other news, I've stopped taking Hindi lessons. Learning a new language is extremely difficult for anyone, and I'm either worse than average at learning it or I have a lower than average tolerance for dealing with the difficulties. I'm willing to admit to either one. Regardless, my 4.5 hours of Hindi lessons and the study time between them was sucking the entirety of my energy and leaving me frustrated, tired and in general rather useless. However, I'm very pleased to say that since I've stopped taking the formal lessons, I've continued to learn Hindi at about the same rate (albeit that is a very slow one) as when I was taking the lessons. In conversation, my Hindi has actually improved dramatically and some of my Hindi speaking friends have complimented me on how much better I can speak than the last time I saw them. I haven't bothered to try to explain that it's because I stopped taking lessons. No doubt this unexpected outcome is because I now have the energy to commit myself while talking in real-life conversation.

Experiences from the Far Side

"Have you ever felt like your life is a comic book? Like the events are
too dramatic, comical, ironic, or unbelievable to be happening to you?
That's what life is usually like here. And yet, there is an equally
unbelievable sense of normalcy that settles in. So many things that would be shocking, revolting, or hysterical in any other context passes by here without a second glance. The other day our house cleaner came out to our balcony where we were working on re-potting our house plants. She grabbed a handful of dirt and started to scrub our dishes with it. Brian and I didn't even give this a second thought. Just yesterday, while doing the same project of re-potting we found a human bone in the dirt (we know it was a human bone because we got it from a site at the Ashram where the king used to bury the bodies of the people he killed). Rather than horror, this brought only a few light-hearted comments and then the bone went right into the pot along with the plant."

"A week ago I went on a LONG walk. How long does a walk have to be
before it's a hike? Or is it only a hike if you are wearing boots? No one has explained this to me. Anyway, we walked north down the length of the oldest and most holy part of the city, that being the ancient part that runs down the shore of the Ganges. From there we crossed over the river on a bridge, then walked back south on the far side of the river. The banks on this side have never had people living on them and it remains completely undeveloped as it is considered unlucky. As we walked down these banks, with the city in full view, it was still like walking in a completely different city. Here you can see parts of Varanasi life that you'd never see on the auspicious side of the river. The banks are full of fields of melons and cucumbers, farmed mostly by the other-wise unemployed boat men. As we walked, we stopped several times to ask the farmer if he had a melon for us. Let me tell you, squatting in the sand under a burlap awning only 2 feet off the ground to escape the 100 degree heat, slurping fresh picked carbooja (cantaloupe) with an Indian family squatting next to you watching you with big toothy or tooth-less smiles, with the Varanasi skyline in view is not a thing to be missed! And yet, here among the greens, fish, birds, frogs and friendly farmers, was a pervasive reminder of the dark truths that overshadow the city. During the course of our walk, I'd conservatively say we saw 20 human bodies, in various states of decay lying un-ceremoniously on the sand. While most bodies are burned here, there are 5 types that are thrown into the river: those with skin disease, children, pregnant women, "holy" men, and those who died of a snake bite. On this uninhabited side of the river, the bodies just pile up. In one case, there was a complete human skeleton lying on the sand then about 20 feet away was a pile of clothes and then 20 feet beyond that was an Indian couple going for a swim. Such is the pervasiveness of death in this city. If it isn't a body being paraded through the streets, or the smell of burning flesh in the air, or a corpse floating down the river, there is an even stronger sense of spiritual death that smothers all like a thick blanket. It can be seen at times in hollow eyes of a sadu (hindu spiritual seeker), in the absence of peace in an old woman, or in the painted smile of an idol. And, of course, the truth is that these are the kinds of death that matter. After a physical death, what does it matter if the body is burned, buried, or bloated? And yet, to see so many bodies was a strong reminder that the time is short, people are dying every day. Lord, what would you have me do? Finally, we crossed over the pontoon bridge on the far south end of the city and returned to the very place where we had been 8 hours earlier and with 12.5 miles less on our sandals. This was a significant day for me, full of new experiences and it left me with a better understanding of life (and death) here."

We've had very interesting weather the last couple of days. First of all it's been raining - which is uncommon anyway, but this was weird rain because it came straight down (not sideways). After 2 whole days of rain, it turned to snow during the night. The snow, like the rain, came straight down! I know other places get snow like this, that's damp and falls down in such a way that you can see how many inches it is (rather than blowing into drifts 8 feet high), but not in NE Wyoming... this is madness. I went to work for a few hours this morning, until school was cancelled. I made it home without getting stuck, despite the "level 2 snow emergency". That was when I discovered that my mom's lovely flower bed, which had sprung to life last week, was now buried. These tulips, among some others, were shielded just enough by the house that they could still poke their heads out of the snow.

If I were a country...

I'd be... the U.N.??
Well, that's what they tell me anyway.
Second opinions anyone??



You're
the United Nations!

Most people think you're ineffective,
but you are trying to completely save the
world from itself, so there's always going
to be a long way to go. You're always
the one trying to get friends to talk to each
other, enemies to talk to each other,
anyone who can to just talk instead of
beating each other about the head and
torso. Sometimes it works and sometimes
it doesn't, and you get very schizophrenic
as a result. But your heart is in the right
place, and sometimes also in New York.

Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

Baby or Bathwater?

I’ve been struggling lately with questions like, How much of what I believe is founded in religious tradition and not in Christ? I’m realizing that although Christianity should be about following Christ, that’s not always the case. In fact, at times it seems that much of our “christianity” is not Christ-like. Visiting other cultures brings these issues to the surface even more.

Many people reject Jesus - not because they don’t want Him - but because they saw some “Christianity” or maybe Christian culture that they wanted nothing to do with. The morbid expression, “throwing the babyout with the bathwater” is a fitting description.

One of the books I read this summer, as part of my training, was, Christ of the Indian Road by E. Stanley Jones. What the author found in India was the attitude, “show us Christ that’s not covered up in your Christianity and we will follow Him”. The human heart was created to need Jesus... he is the ultimate answer for the human condition. Like one of the street kids I worked with in San Francisco put it, “how can you not love Him?!”

Sadhu Sundar Singh, a famous Indian follower of Christ, was asked by a comparative religion professor what he had found in Christianity that he had not found in his own religion. He replied,
“I have Christ.”
“Yes, I know”, the professor responded, “but what particular principle or doctorine have you found that you did not have before?”
“The particular thing I have found is Christ”.

Many Christians are threatened by the common “all religions lead to God” philosophy, but there is a bit of truth there. Religious systems are the same in that they all are man’s attempts to get to God or live a moral life. As followers of Jesus, we know that any attempt to get to God is futile and that living a moral life in our strength is impossible. Our true hope lies in God coming to us, which He did in Jesus. Our doctrinal statements cannot save us, only He can. And in that way, Christianity cannot save us, only Christ. We have often traded our King, for a religious system that bears his name.

The non-Christian world often thinks that Jesus is to Christianity what Santa Claus is to Christmas. Ironically, both Christmas and Christianity are supposed to be about Jesus. I hope this Christmas you will see more of the Baby, and less of the “bathwater“.

Ashram classroom, Varanasi

One highlight from the Darshan trip, was meeting with Hindu friends of our teachers. This photo shows the classroom of the ashram where we studied each day. The afternoon this was taken, we were listening to a woman's story of moving towards faith in Jesus. Her mother was also present and shared her perspective on her daughters new life... jumping in at one point to answer a question for her (about whether her marriage had been affected by her decision to follow Christ), "oh, yes... they used to fight, she would come to my house upset at her husband...", etc. The couple has daily devotional times in the morning... they are both followers of Jesus. I wish I could capture the radiant joy this woman expressed while talking about Jesus.

Darshan Snapshots

Here are some journal excerpts from my trip this summer:

New Jersey:
“We interviewed a man in New Jersey, who was trying to endear us to Hinduism... even using Christian terminology. We asked if there was forgiveness... he responded, "Oh, yes! God has an everest of patience", then continued into a confusingly wordy explanation, which... when thought through carefully, revealed that by saying "yes" he merely meant that people can get many tries and many lifetimes to get it right, but one always receives punishment, always pays for sin. There was no mercy, as I understand it anyway. Even just hearing his explanation makes me sigh with defeat -- the last thing I'd want is innumerable "tries". Failure is quite attractive in light of mercy."

Varanasi:
"The afternoon after our sunrise boat ride on the Ganga, I read over several statements from Jesus like, "I will not leave you desolate" and was struck by the contrast I was seeing... and all that we don't have to do to please God... "open the door" -- you can't get much simpler than that! Over the next couple weeks, the more I learned about Hinduism, esp. the various gods and goddesses -- the more awestruck I became with Jesus. I saw Him more beautiful, more loving, and more generous than before. Hearing Munnu contrast the character of Jesus with his own Hindu gods was striking too. And seeing Anita's glowing face as she shared about finding Jesus -- I saw more and more how attractive Jesus is. And, Hindus, who often live so devoted to gods who are not loving and generous like Jesus, can appreciate His character perhaps more than I, who knew him at such an early age. I remember having similar thoughts about Hinduism -- just before coming to Nepal the 1st time. I had been feeling down and a bit confused, and was begging God to help me... He responded by saying, 'I will help you... but first consider that you are about to encounter people who, like you now, pray for help -- only they have millions of gods who will never hear them and respond like I'm about to respond to you.' My self-pity melted into compassion... esp. when I considered how minor and brief my disturbance had been in comparison to the daily suffering of many in India or Nepal. We are not grateful enough for compassion and forgiveness.”

"One thing that's also struck me over the last couple days... was a temple we visited. It was a temple to Vishnu, essencially, and most of it was filled with scenes from the Ramayana (the great Hindu epic about Ram - who's an incarnation of Vishnu). In part of the temple, you paid to walk through an almost Disneyland-like display of the story... huge scenes, the size of a room, with moving figures, depicting parts of the story. It was pretty impressive. At one scene we were asking our teacher about different characters and he didn't know the answer... then he said, "this little girl would know"... referring to the 7-10 yr.old girl next to us. Sure enough, he asked her... and with great excitement she shared with us about the story. I don't know exactly what she said because it was in Hindi, but watching her face light up... one could tell that this story was deeply a part of her life. She also helped us identify several images of deities on a wall in a different part of the temple. I gave her some candy as we were leaving, to say "thanks"... she was thrilled. I thought about her and about that story the rest of the day. When I was at that seminar in SF, someone spoke about the Ramayana and how it has been told in every art form imaginable in India and throughout other parts of SE Asia... then stated, "what if this story was the gospel?". "

“Some common brand names here in India:for mineral water - ‘YES!’ and for toilet paper - ‘Must’”[If you've been to Asia, you'll appreciate the irony.]

London:
"We just came from visiting with Brian's language tutors... it was a pretty interesting day. The family was curious about us and excited that we wanted to know about their culture. Some of us spent the evening talking with the second son. He said that he'd never met Christians so open minded and that his impression of what Christians believe is 'you don't have to be good -- just believe in Jesus or you're going to Hell." From there we were able to share in depth about what the Bible teaches about salvation. He was very open and very interested. I think Brian was quite surprized (and a bit nervous) when he overheard bits of our conversation. He spent much of the night trying to distract the rest of the family."

Entering Temple, Varanasi July 2004