I had my first Christianity Today class of the term. It was really nice! I had a lot of people there (nine) and they were quick to join in with thoughts and comments from the Bible passage we were studying. I'm taking my students through the Old Testament this term, and today was creation. I was relieved that they didn't focus on the different perspectives Christians have on evolution or anything like that...the discussions we got into (about human authority and responsibility and God creating the world good) were far more productive. But one thing happened that was really, really interesting.
A man I hadn't met before came to the center just before my class, and asked if he could join coffee hour. I explained that Coffee Hour came after Christianity Today, but that he was welcome to either wait or join us for Christianity Today. He instantly walked into the room and said, "I need to read Corinthians, do you have a Bible?" I handed him a Bible and helped him find the verse he was looking for about the body being the temple for God. Once we had found it, I asked him why he was looking for it, and he said it reminded him of something in Zen. Class was starting, so we dropped the conversation.
I had students introduce themselves at the beginning of class, and the man said, "I'm actually not sure I'm allowed to be here, because I'm a Zen priest."
...I have a Zen priest (or monk...we weren't sure about the English) in my Christianity Today class.
He was an interesting character. Somewhat soft spoken, but with a pleasant sense of humor. He knew a lot about the Bible. He joked at the end of class that he was a heretic for coming to my class.
I've never met any student at Hongo who had a strong religion aside from our few Christian students. Much of Japan is self-proclaimed "no religion" or "interested in many religions" It will be very interesting to see what kind of conversations his presence brings about, assuming that he comes back again.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
The days of peace are at an end...
There is a cockroach in my apartment. *buries head in couch and hides* I live alone...*whimper* It was on the wall and I sat and looked at it and contemplated how to get rid of a two inch long insect without dying myself, and just when I had decided that was pretty much impossible the darn thing *flew* and now I don't even know where it is.
I have been dreading this moment ever since I saw a cockroach on the stairs going up to my apartment level.
Do cockroaches bite, or are they just the scariest looking things in the entire world? What happens if one tries to vacuum them?
*whimper* I sleep on the floor.
How does one get rid of a cockroach without:
a) touching it
b) smushing it all over the wall or floor
c) making it fly in one's general direction
d) inviting more cockroaches in
e) breaking any international anti-war type treaties
f) blowing up one's apartment
g) having a nervous breakdown
h) not knowing exactly where it is--but needing to be certain it's out
?
I have been dreading this moment ever since I saw a cockroach on the stairs going up to my apartment level.
Do cockroaches bite, or are they just the scariest looking things in the entire world? What happens if one tries to vacuum them?
*whimper* I sleep on the floor.
How does one get rid of a cockroach without:
a) touching it
b) smushing it all over the wall or floor
c) making it fly in one's general direction
d) inviting more cockroaches in
e) breaking any international anti-war type treaties
f) blowing up one's apartment
g) having a nervous breakdown
h) not knowing exactly where it is--but needing to be certain it's out
?
Monday, September 10, 2007
ただいま！
Christine and I arrived back in Tokyo yesterday evening. India was absolutely wonderful.
We arrived at about two in the morning. Our best guess for a hotel that might accept us without a reservation was wrong, but the taxi driver kindly delivered us on the front step of a hotel that would. We payed entirely too much in terms of Indian money for only three hours of sleep, but since that was only $40, I suppose I am not entitled to complaint.
The streets in Kolkata (Calcutta was changed to Kolkata in recent years, so that's where I'm talking about when I say "Kolkata") are worth describing in full. Most of the sidewalks are covered with people sleeping, bathing, using the wall as a toilet, eating, etc. So, you pretty much walk on the streets, along with everyone else. Being a white person in that part of Kolkata, everyone knew exactly where we were going and would shout "hello!" and, if they were a rickshaw driver "Mother House?!". Rickshaw drivers and bicycle riders use bells and motorcycles and taxis and autorickshaws and any other kinds of cars use horns to let you know they are there. If you aren't sure someone knows about you after blaring the horn, it is also permissible to lean out the window and shout. Needless to say, we got back into downtown Tokyo and could only remark, "How quiet it is! And how clean!" But I loved the reality of Kolkata. I loved how vibrant and active the streets were.
It turns out we had perfect timing in terms of volunteering. Almost all the volunteers come on Thursday, because it is the day off for volunteering. We started on Friday with pretty much everyone else. We had lots of different houses to choose from...some for children, one for the dying, some for battered women, others for mentally handicapped...Christine and I decided we did not want to choose, so we asked them to send us wherever the need was greatest. We ended up at Prem Dan, a home for the sick and mentally handicapped, which I am convinced was the best place we possibly could have ended up.
Mornings were spent handwashing a pile of laundry about four feet high. We scrubbed sheets and clothing in large tubs of cool, soapy water, then ran them through two sinks to rinse the soap out, finally wrung as much water out of them as we could and then hauled them up to the roof to dry. These were truly joyful times. We usually had about fifteen volunteers working all together, and the group was very multicultural. I immediately found myself in the center of it, being as how at least two thirds of the volunteers seemed to be from Japan or Spain. At one point, I found myself sitting at a tub with a Japanese girl and a Spanish girl all at the same time, and my poor brain nearly exploded, but it was also really cool to be able to help people start relationships across a language barrier, and my Spanish actually came back again after a couple days of explaining (in very careful, slow, articulate Spanish) that I had been living in Japan for a year, and so Japanese came out whenever I tried to speak Spanish. What was really funny is that it's the most basis words in Spanish that I can't remember. It took me days and days to be able to say "si" instead of "hai", and I kept forgetting words like "what", "then", and "tomorrow", which really confused the poor Spaniards.
Laundry was followed by a tea break (I love chai so much!!!), and then we would go in to serve lunch to the patients.
My first day, this was the most stressful part. The nurses speak only Bengali. The patients speak only Bengali or only Bengali and Hindi, with the exception of maybe one girl who knows a couple simple phrases. This meant that I would do something like start carrying food somewhere, and the nurse would just say, "No!". I would freeze, trying to figure out my error, and eventually someone would grab me by the hand and pull me somewhere different. I tried to take all of this as a much needed lesson in humility, but was very drained by the end of the volunteer time.
The next day I decided to avoid the food and actively seek out patients in need of love. My first day, this meant a younger looking girl who was curled up, very firmly asleep and feverish. I tried to help her sit up to eat, but she kept sinking back to the bed. So, I prayed, sang to her, and kept pressing the spoon to her lips. Eventually, one of the nurses came over, spoke to her harshly in Bengali, and then she started eating. We managed to get several bites of food into her and about a third of her cup of water. The next day I looked all over for her and could not find her. I asked Cara, who had been with us the day before, to let me know if she saw her anywhere, but began mentally preparing for her death, or at least her move to one of the more "dying" type houses. About halfway through lunch, Cara came and said, "There she is." To my great surprise, she was sitting in the "mess hall" with the other patients, a nearly clean plate in front of her. I came over to her and greeted her and touched her, and her skin was cool to the touch, no more trace of a fever. It was a wonderful surprise!
The rest of our volunteer days, I spent a lot of time sitting with a girl named Sonali. Sonali had twig like arms and legs and barely responded at all when I came and took her hand. She tended to spit up any food we could get past the barricade of her lips. For the first time in my life, I would have done anything for a needle so we could have started an i.v. and gotten some nutrients into her. Everyday we made some effort to feed her, but it didn't go well until they started bringing us something like watery oatmeal. Even then she would manage only three bites and then need to lay down and rest again. I fell deeply, deeply in love with Sonali and always spent an extended period of time sitting with her, holding her hand, singing to her and praying. By the end of my time there, she was still really weak, but her eyes opened a bit more often and she seemed to move around a bit more. I'd like to think she's getting better. But it's weird that I'll never know for sure.
So, that was pretty much life in India...at least the cliff notes version. I don't even know if I've managed to process everything for myself...there's still so much to think about, and many more happenings and conversations. For now, I am back home. I had the day to show Christine a little of Tokyo, tomorrow I'll start work registering people and passing out pamphlets at Hongo, and Christine goes back to Seattle on Thursday.
We arrived at about two in the morning. Our best guess for a hotel that might accept us without a reservation was wrong, but the taxi driver kindly delivered us on the front step of a hotel that would. We payed entirely too much in terms of Indian money for only three hours of sleep, but since that was only $40, I suppose I am not entitled to complaint.
The streets in Kolkata (Calcutta was changed to Kolkata in recent years, so that's where I'm talking about when I say "Kolkata") are worth describing in full. Most of the sidewalks are covered with people sleeping, bathing, using the wall as a toilet, eating, etc. So, you pretty much walk on the streets, along with everyone else. Being a white person in that part of Kolkata, everyone knew exactly where we were going and would shout "hello!" and, if they were a rickshaw driver "Mother House?!". Rickshaw drivers and bicycle riders use bells and motorcycles and taxis and autorickshaws and any other kinds of cars use horns to let you know they are there. If you aren't sure someone knows about you after blaring the horn, it is also permissible to lean out the window and shout. Needless to say, we got back into downtown Tokyo and could only remark, "How quiet it is! And how clean!" But I loved the reality of Kolkata. I loved how vibrant and active the streets were.
It turns out we had perfect timing in terms of volunteering. Almost all the volunteers come on Thursday, because it is the day off for volunteering. We started on Friday with pretty much everyone else. We had lots of different houses to choose from...some for children, one for the dying, some for battered women, others for mentally handicapped...Christine and I decided we did not want to choose, so we asked them to send us wherever the need was greatest. We ended up at Prem Dan, a home for the sick and mentally handicapped, which I am convinced was the best place we possibly could have ended up.
Mornings were spent handwashing a pile of laundry about four feet high. We scrubbed sheets and clothing in large tubs of cool, soapy water, then ran them through two sinks to rinse the soap out, finally wrung as much water out of them as we could and then hauled them up to the roof to dry. These were truly joyful times. We usually had about fifteen volunteers working all together, and the group was very multicultural. I immediately found myself in the center of it, being as how at least two thirds of the volunteers seemed to be from Japan or Spain. At one point, I found myself sitting at a tub with a Japanese girl and a Spanish girl all at the same time, and my poor brain nearly exploded, but it was also really cool to be able to help people start relationships across a language barrier, and my Spanish actually came back again after a couple days of explaining (in very careful, slow, articulate Spanish) that I had been living in Japan for a year, and so Japanese came out whenever I tried to speak Spanish. What was really funny is that it's the most basis words in Spanish that I can't remember. It took me days and days to be able to say "si" instead of "hai", and I kept forgetting words like "what", "then", and "tomorrow", which really confused the poor Spaniards.
Laundry was followed by a tea break (I love chai so much!!!), and then we would go in to serve lunch to the patients.
My first day, this was the most stressful part. The nurses speak only Bengali. The patients speak only Bengali or only Bengali and Hindi, with the exception of maybe one girl who knows a couple simple phrases. This meant that I would do something like start carrying food somewhere, and the nurse would just say, "No!". I would freeze, trying to figure out my error, and eventually someone would grab me by the hand and pull me somewhere different. I tried to take all of this as a much needed lesson in humility, but was very drained by the end of the volunteer time.
The next day I decided to avoid the food and actively seek out patients in need of love. My first day, this meant a younger looking girl who was curled up, very firmly asleep and feverish. I tried to help her sit up to eat, but she kept sinking back to the bed. So, I prayed, sang to her, and kept pressing the spoon to her lips. Eventually, one of the nurses came over, spoke to her harshly in Bengali, and then she started eating. We managed to get several bites of food into her and about a third of her cup of water. The next day I looked all over for her and could not find her. I asked Cara, who had been with us the day before, to let me know if she saw her anywhere, but began mentally preparing for her death, or at least her move to one of the more "dying" type houses. About halfway through lunch, Cara came and said, "There she is." To my great surprise, she was sitting in the "mess hall" with the other patients, a nearly clean plate in front of her. I came over to her and greeted her and touched her, and her skin was cool to the touch, no more trace of a fever. It was a wonderful surprise!
The rest of our volunteer days, I spent a lot of time sitting with a girl named Sonali. Sonali had twig like arms and legs and barely responded at all when I came and took her hand. She tended to spit up any food we could get past the barricade of her lips. For the first time in my life, I would have done anything for a needle so we could have started an i.v. and gotten some nutrients into her. Everyday we made some effort to feed her, but it didn't go well until they started bringing us something like watery oatmeal. Even then she would manage only three bites and then need to lay down and rest again. I fell deeply, deeply in love with Sonali and always spent an extended period of time sitting with her, holding her hand, singing to her and praying. By the end of my time there, she was still really weak, but her eyes opened a bit more often and she seemed to move around a bit more. I'd like to think she's getting better. But it's weird that I'll never know for sure.
So, that was pretty much life in India...at least the cliff notes version. I don't even know if I've managed to process everything for myself...there's still so much to think about, and many more happenings and conversations. For now, I am back home. I had the day to show Christine a little of Tokyo, tomorrow I'll start work registering people and passing out pamphlets at Hongo, and Christine goes back to Seattle on Thursday.
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