Here's me enjoying my well deserved Irelandade after a hard four days swinging back and forwards on the back of John's rucksack!
Larry
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
An update from Larry
Well be jeepers it's good to be back in civilisation! These eejit heywoods had me miles away from me home comforts there for four days! Something to do with trekking and hills and up and down and steps and sore legs and knees. I don't know wot ther moaning about, my legs are grand! I just swung about and enjoyed the ride, which was a bit like being on an extremely slow rollercoaster! It was nice to get to Nepal to see what that Peter Hamilton one had been harping on about....”nepal's amazing, you're going to love Nepal, Nepal's amazing, You'll love it there, Nepal's....dedadedaledadedale...situation!” anyway, to be fair he was right, it's been brilliant! I got amazing views over those there mountains from a place called poon hill, mind you it was a wee bit baltic up there on that walk at times, one day I was even attacked by massive white metiores that were totally freeezin! Anyway I made it back down again and was glad to be able to relax in the sun with a refreshing irelandade and remember those views! Even took some pictures to show ye!
I'm getting a tad addicted to this coke stuff, there's a real shortage of Guinness in this Nepal place!
A good night's sleep is very important, these lodges up in the mountains were lovely and clean!
Getting a good view of the hills with me friend John.
Proof I reached the top of that Poon Hill place! I don't know why it was important to get my photo at this sign but every man and his dog was doing it so I tought I would too!
It's very difficult to apply this sunscreen stuff by yerself!
Here's me enjoying my well deserved Irelandade after a hard four days swinging back and forwards on the back of John's rucksack!
Larry
Here's me enjoying my well deserved Irelandade after a hard four days swinging back and forwards on the back of John's rucksack!
Larry
Pokhara and the Poon Hill-Ghorepani Trek
It was a long journey to Pokhara (13 ½ hours to be exact) pretty much non stop on a jeep then two different buses but it was worth it! We were picked up from the bus by a friend of Santos' (one of the staff from Forest Hideaway at Bardia) and taken to our lovely clean and very centrally located accommodation in Lakeside. Full of wifi, coffee shops, good food, woolen hats and gloves and fake north face gear Pokhara is a place you could easily spend your time and money! On arrival John headed straight for the steak and I headed straight for the shops!
From Pokhara we set off on a short four day trek into the Annapurna region with our excellent guide Shiba. The trek, a 75km loop from Nayapul – Ulleri – Ghorepani - Poon Hill – Ghandruk- Nayapul (for those of you who like to look at maps!) took us to 3193m at it's highest point, three times the hight of Ben Nevis!
Day one was the toughest as we threw our bodies in the deep end with a long long climb up honestly THOUSANDS of steps from our starting point to Ulleri. It was horrible and exhausting! Our second day was much more relaxing with less uphill and an afternoon off walking! Day three was without a doubt our absolute favorite, despite it being the longest walking day (7 ½ hours walking), and the coldest with hailstones and rain! We woke just after 4 am on the third day to make the trip up to Poon Hill before sunrise, where we were assured we would be afforded some of the best views of the Annapurna Range on offer. We had heard so much about how amazing these views were, but we kept our expectations lowish and waited....WOW we were not disappointed, it was honestly magical to see the outline of the mountains appear slowly as the light increased and then to witness the sun burst up in all its beautiful red glory and fill the sky, the mountain tops pristinely snow capped. So beautiful. We were able to see from poon hill about 4 of the tallest mountains in the annapurna range including the famous “fishtail” or Machhapuchhre which we had been admiring a few days before from afar in Pokhara. The days walking continued to bless us with wonderful views as we descended into the valley and into forest and culminated in a stay in the gorgeous village of Ghandruk where we saw a postcard perfect sunset over Machhapuchhre. Our fourth day was a stiff descent which left us aching and on return to Pokhara we spent a day and a half hobbling about going “oh ah!”.
We are already talking of how we'd love to trek again in Nepal! Perhaps next time we can return with good gear and better fitness and maybe, maybe even consider Everest Base Camp?!! Who knows! One things for sure, Pokhara and the Annapurna Mountains were a sheer delight for us, and the beautiful scenery has etched itself in our minds forever!
From Pokhara we set off on a short four day trek into the Annapurna region with our excellent guide Shiba. The trek, a 75km loop from Nayapul – Ulleri – Ghorepani - Poon Hill – Ghandruk- Nayapul (for those of you who like to look at maps!) took us to 3193m at it's highest point, three times the hight of Ben Nevis!
Day one was the toughest as we threw our bodies in the deep end with a long long climb up honestly THOUSANDS of steps from our starting point to Ulleri. It was horrible and exhausting! Our second day was much more relaxing with less uphill and an afternoon off walking! Day three was without a doubt our absolute favorite, despite it being the longest walking day (7 ½ hours walking), and the coldest with hailstones and rain! We woke just after 4 am on the third day to make the trip up to Poon Hill before sunrise, where we were assured we would be afforded some of the best views of the Annapurna Range on offer. We had heard so much about how amazing these views were, but we kept our expectations lowish and waited....WOW we were not disappointed, it was honestly magical to see the outline of the mountains appear slowly as the light increased and then to witness the sun burst up in all its beautiful red glory and fill the sky, the mountain tops pristinely snow capped. So beautiful. We were able to see from poon hill about 4 of the tallest mountains in the annapurna range including the famous “fishtail” or Machhapuchhre which we had been admiring a few days before from afar in Pokhara. The days walking continued to bless us with wonderful views as we descended into the valley and into forest and culminated in a stay in the gorgeous village of Ghandruk where we saw a postcard perfect sunset over Machhapuchhre. Our fourth day was a stiff descent which left us aching and on return to Pokhara we spent a day and a half hobbling about going “oh ah!”.
We are already talking of how we'd love to trek again in Nepal! Perhaps next time we can return with good gear and better fitness and maybe, maybe even consider Everest Base Camp?!! Who knows! One things for sure, Pokhara and the Annapurna Mountains were a sheer delight for us, and the beautiful scenery has etched itself in our minds forever!
A walk on the wild side!
Well, after our epic journey out of Delhi we walked over the Nepali border (something which neither of us had ever done) and were welcomed into Nepal. We felt the stress lift with every step we took and managed to successfully navigate the immigration and border town of Mahandrenagar with a little help from a friendly local.
What we haven't told you is that although the stress of leaving Delhi was great and our plans were entirely up in the air we were both very glad to be entering Nepal from its most western border crossing. The reason for this was the fact that we would be able to visit Bardia National Park on our way through, something we had previously written off due to the fact that it was so far into the west of Nepal (17 hours by bus from Pokhara to be exact).
Revitilised by our successful internet search and consequent phone call to our potential accommodation we braved the dusty bus depot in Mahandrenegar, somehow managed to purchase two tickets and were directed/carried by the local gathering of porters/drivers/men who jump on and off the bus to drum up passengers and made it to the back seat with all our bags, a bottle of water and Larry. Three hours later and having significantly aged due to the dare devil like driving of the Nepali locals we exited to be met by one of the staff from Forest Hideaway Lodge. After a very pleasant 13km jeep drive through rivers, local Tharu villages while waving to smiling kids and grazing sheep (believe it or not) we entered a wee haven from the madness that had ensued the previous 4 days.
We sat and had a very relaxing lunch followed by a much needed shower and then sat in hammocks until the sun went down. We both looked at each other and said “We like Nepal!”
Over the next 6 days (We only intended to stay 3) we enjoyed a fantastic variety of jungle safari walks (12 hours long in about 32 degree heat), jeep and elephant safari and a very chilled out day rafting down the river. Our excellent guide Indra with his finely honed eyes helped us to spot deer, monkeys, wild elephant, one horned rhinos (including a 5month old baby rhino), a 4m Python, wild boar, several varieties of crocodile, huge amounts of birds and a leopard. He tried hard but unfortunately he was unable to locate a tiger for us, which he was very apologetic about. We did not mind because it is very hard to spot one and Indra was a real pleasure to be with. He climbed trees in flip-flops and with a great sense of humor he entertained us about many things in Nepal and even turned up a little tipsy one night as it was the Holi festival, apologising in excellent English and explained to us the intricacies of Roxy (the reason he was a little tipsy).
We left Bardia with a little sadness in our hearts as we could have stayed a lot longer. We definitely made a friend there and as we were ushered onto our bus to Pokhara by Santos, the man in charge at Forest Hideaway, we could not thank them enough.
However, onwards we must go and into the mountains where Larry will finally get to stretch his legs........
What we haven't told you is that although the stress of leaving Delhi was great and our plans were entirely up in the air we were both very glad to be entering Nepal from its most western border crossing. The reason for this was the fact that we would be able to visit Bardia National Park on our way through, something we had previously written off due to the fact that it was so far into the west of Nepal (17 hours by bus from Pokhara to be exact).
Revitilised by our successful internet search and consequent phone call to our potential accommodation we braved the dusty bus depot in Mahandrenegar, somehow managed to purchase two tickets and were directed/carried by the local gathering of porters/drivers/men who jump on and off the bus to drum up passengers and made it to the back seat with all our bags, a bottle of water and Larry. Three hours later and having significantly aged due to the dare devil like driving of the Nepali locals we exited to be met by one of the staff from Forest Hideaway Lodge. After a very pleasant 13km jeep drive through rivers, local Tharu villages while waving to smiling kids and grazing sheep (believe it or not) we entered a wee haven from the madness that had ensued the previous 4 days.
We sat and had a very relaxing lunch followed by a much needed shower and then sat in hammocks until the sun went down. We both looked at each other and said “We like Nepal!”
We left Bardia with a little sadness in our hearts as we could have stayed a lot longer. We definitely made a friend there and as we were ushered onto our bus to Pokhara by Santos, the man in charge at Forest Hideaway, we could not thank them enough.
However, onwards we must go and into the mountains where Larry will finally get to stretch his legs........
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
48 hours, a very 'Indian' weekend.
Louise and I sometimes have an 'India' day. This is usually when a couple of particularly Indian things happen such as getting stared at too much, rickshaw drivers really trying to rip you off or being run over more than once. What we have experienced is very much an Indian weekend and I shall explain why below.
It began with a trip to the post office, something which is considered a chore in the UK, but straightforward nonetheless. We first of all walked into a reasonably sized building, about 20 stories high and with approximately 30 counters and about an acre of space behind them with plenty of people siting around drinking chai. We waited patiently in the queue and we then told they did not have the capacity to deal with our package and that we should go to the general post office,another ten minute walk down the road. After some ranting to each other about how that was so Indian we walked along to find the GPO in the middle of a roundabout with no apparent means to cross over to the entrance. We danced, ducked and dived our way across holding three bags, a 2 litre bottle of water and a Leprechaun and made it safely to the door. We waited again in a queue to have our package wrapped in white linen cloth, which is mandatory in India, why I hear you ask........like I said, this was turning into an India day. We managed to post our package without any more fuss and thought we'd done quite well to get that all done before lunchtime. We patted ourselves on our backs and headed to old Delhi to experience true North Indian cuisine at a place called Karims, which translates as meat, meat and more meat. We avoided meat for most of our time here but we were advised to go here, so we did. It was very enjoyable and it left us with just enough time to pop in to see the Jama Masjid, the biggest mosque in India. We jumped up the steps and strolled through the gate and literally about to step into the sunshine on the other side when we heard “STOP, CAMERA, TICKET!!!!!” What happened next I will not write but lets just say we taught them some new English, like i said we were having an India day.
We headed back to our hotel and prepared to leave Delhi as we headed on our train to the Nepal border. After a very sweaty and adrenalin rushing walk along the main bazaar in Pahar Ganj we walked into New Delhi train station to catch the Gorakdam Express to Gorakpur, our gateway to the Himalaya's. We took the escalator up to the platform to be met with the announcement “The Gorakdam express has been canceled, we deeply regret any inconvenience.” Louise had to pick up my jaw from the floor before we went to the tourist office and inquired as to exactly why. We were met with the explanation of “track is not clear” and we presumed this was due to maintenance or a broken down train and they would expect the train we were re-booked onto the next morning would be running.
After another sweaty etc... walk back to our hotel we checked back into our room and caught a few hours sleep before we got up at 5am and headed to catch our new train. We arrived 90 minutes early and waited patiently on the platform as we became the local staring object and we observed the many washing/preparation rituals performed by many on the platform or under the water taps in between the rail tracks. Our train should have arrived on the platform at 720 and left at 750 so at 740 Louise went and checked the board, to find the word 'terminated' under our train. Others were saying canceled or delayed so we were a little confused, especially as there was no announcement detailing what was happening but multiple announcements about the others. After about 20 minutes of asking various train staff we ascertained that the train was diverted away from Delhi and would not be calling here today, 'Why?' we asked, shrug of shoulders was the response. Back we went to the tourist office and requested to be re-booked again on the next available train which was that evening. We asked again, 'why was the train canceled/diverted?”, “I think there is some protest” was the response, “will the train run tonight?” we asked, the same shrug of the shoulders (standard issue action for train staff I think).
At this point we were a little worried due to the fact we had to exit India on a specific date due to a clause in our Visa's. We sat in our favourite cafe for 8 hours as we ate and drank the hours away researching any other options to enter Nepal on the 15th, two days away. We made our way to the train station and immediately verified that the train was canceled and we required to cancel our ticket. We walked round the corner to find the cancellation queue to find a maelstrom of bodies trying to do the same thing. I stood in one as Louise stood in the Ladies queue. 3 hours later we managed to escape, but not after witnessing bribe after bribe taking place as people skipped the queue. We told ourselves we wouldn't do that again, we'd just forfeit the money to save ourselves from the hassle. We decided to attempt to get a bus to Banbasa, the closest border crossing from Delhi, and duly made our way to the bus station where we caught another bus to another bus station. It was at this point we experienced the only moment of genuine kindness in the last two days A man got his friend to take us right across the bus station, through the touts and drug sellers and onto the quieter bus so we could get a seat and refused to take a tip after it all. We were really quite touched and although I was coughing quite heavily due to all the pollution and Louise was very tired we made it to the other side of Delhi.
Unfortunately there was no bus until the morning and we took the decision to find a room and look at other options. Finally at 2AM we made it back to Pahar Ganj and got a grubby room for the night, getting a few hours needed rest. We woke early and decided after our last couple of days we should bite the bullet and just get out of Delhi by whatever means possible. It was the 14th of March and we had run out of options so we hired a private car and driver and were on our way by 10am. This trip was uneventful, apart from the driver not really knowing where to go and having to stop for directions every 40 minutes. We ended up in Banbasa and was sold a story by the driver of hotels not accepting foreigners. Bearing in mind it was a border town we didn't really believe this but at this point we were completely exhausted, fed up with India and just wanted to have somewhere to sleep. We ended up with a room dirtier than the previous nights, and with a total of 3 cockroaches killed in the first 15 minutes you can guess the standard of the room.
We woke early, had a disagreement about the price of the rickshaw to the border and set out determined to walk all the way there if necessary. Once the rickshaw drivers understood we were serious they dropped their price and were were soon bouncing our way towards Nepal. With every turn of the wheels we began to feel better, at the Indian immigration post we didn't mind that there were 3 men doing half a mans job or that they hardly spoke a word to us and we didn't mind that it was a 15 minute walk to the Nepal border. With every step we took we began to breathe fresher air, the stress of the past 48 hours was beginning to lift and the mountains appeared in front of the rising sun. As we left India and into Nepal the last conversation we had is detailed below, it will hopefully help you understand India.
Indian Gentleman: 'Hello, where are from?'
John: 'We are from Ireland'
Indian Gentleman: 'Ah Ireland, where are you going?'
John: 'We are going to Nepal'
Indian Gentleman: 'Ah Nepal, yes I know it'
Since the Indian gentleman was a soldier guarding the India-Nepal border crossing we were rather relieved to know that nepal was a place he knew of!..like I said it was a very Indian weekend.
It began with a trip to the post office, something which is considered a chore in the UK, but straightforward nonetheless. We first of all walked into a reasonably sized building, about 20 stories high and with approximately 30 counters and about an acre of space behind them with plenty of people siting around drinking chai. We waited patiently in the queue and we then told they did not have the capacity to deal with our package and that we should go to the general post office,another ten minute walk down the road. After some ranting to each other about how that was so Indian we walked along to find the GPO in the middle of a roundabout with no apparent means to cross over to the entrance. We danced, ducked and dived our way across holding three bags, a 2 litre bottle of water and a Leprechaun and made it safely to the door. We waited again in a queue to have our package wrapped in white linen cloth, which is mandatory in India, why I hear you ask........like I said, this was turning into an India day. We managed to post our package without any more fuss and thought we'd done quite well to get that all done before lunchtime. We patted ourselves on our backs and headed to old Delhi to experience true North Indian cuisine at a place called Karims, which translates as meat, meat and more meat. We avoided meat for most of our time here but we were advised to go here, so we did. It was very enjoyable and it left us with just enough time to pop in to see the Jama Masjid, the biggest mosque in India. We jumped up the steps and strolled through the gate and literally about to step into the sunshine on the other side when we heard “STOP, CAMERA, TICKET!!!!!” What happened next I will not write but lets just say we taught them some new English, like i said we were having an India day.
We headed back to our hotel and prepared to leave Delhi as we headed on our train to the Nepal border. After a very sweaty and adrenalin rushing walk along the main bazaar in Pahar Ganj we walked into New Delhi train station to catch the Gorakdam Express to Gorakpur, our gateway to the Himalaya's. We took the escalator up to the platform to be met with the announcement “The Gorakdam express has been canceled, we deeply regret any inconvenience.” Louise had to pick up my jaw from the floor before we went to the tourist office and inquired as to exactly why. We were met with the explanation of “track is not clear” and we presumed this was due to maintenance or a broken down train and they would expect the train we were re-booked onto the next morning would be running.
After another sweaty etc... walk back to our hotel we checked back into our room and caught a few hours sleep before we got up at 5am and headed to catch our new train. We arrived 90 minutes early and waited patiently on the platform as we became the local staring object and we observed the many washing/preparation rituals performed by many on the platform or under the water taps in between the rail tracks. Our train should have arrived on the platform at 720 and left at 750 so at 740 Louise went and checked the board, to find the word 'terminated' under our train. Others were saying canceled or delayed so we were a little confused, especially as there was no announcement detailing what was happening but multiple announcements about the others. After about 20 minutes of asking various train staff we ascertained that the train was diverted away from Delhi and would not be calling here today, 'Why?' we asked, shrug of shoulders was the response. Back we went to the tourist office and requested to be re-booked again on the next available train which was that evening. We asked again, 'why was the train canceled/diverted?”, “I think there is some protest” was the response, “will the train run tonight?” we asked, the same shrug of the shoulders (standard issue action for train staff I think).
At this point we were a little worried due to the fact we had to exit India on a specific date due to a clause in our Visa's. We sat in our favourite cafe for 8 hours as we ate and drank the hours away researching any other options to enter Nepal on the 15th, two days away. We made our way to the train station and immediately verified that the train was canceled and we required to cancel our ticket. We walked round the corner to find the cancellation queue to find a maelstrom of bodies trying to do the same thing. I stood in one as Louise stood in the Ladies queue. 3 hours later we managed to escape, but not after witnessing bribe after bribe taking place as people skipped the queue. We told ourselves we wouldn't do that again, we'd just forfeit the money to save ourselves from the hassle. We decided to attempt to get a bus to Banbasa, the closest border crossing from Delhi, and duly made our way to the bus station where we caught another bus to another bus station. It was at this point we experienced the only moment of genuine kindness in the last two days A man got his friend to take us right across the bus station, through the touts and drug sellers and onto the quieter bus so we could get a seat and refused to take a tip after it all. We were really quite touched and although I was coughing quite heavily due to all the pollution and Louise was very tired we made it to the other side of Delhi.
Unfortunately there was no bus until the morning and we took the decision to find a room and look at other options. Finally at 2AM we made it back to Pahar Ganj and got a grubby room for the night, getting a few hours needed rest. We woke early and decided after our last couple of days we should bite the bullet and just get out of Delhi by whatever means possible. It was the 14th of March and we had run out of options so we hired a private car and driver and were on our way by 10am. This trip was uneventful, apart from the driver not really knowing where to go and having to stop for directions every 40 minutes. We ended up in Banbasa and was sold a story by the driver of hotels not accepting foreigners. Bearing in mind it was a border town we didn't really believe this but at this point we were completely exhausted, fed up with India and just wanted to have somewhere to sleep. We ended up with a room dirtier than the previous nights, and with a total of 3 cockroaches killed in the first 15 minutes you can guess the standard of the room.
We woke early, had a disagreement about the price of the rickshaw to the border and set out determined to walk all the way there if necessary. Once the rickshaw drivers understood we were serious they dropped their price and were were soon bouncing our way towards Nepal. With every turn of the wheels we began to feel better, at the Indian immigration post we didn't mind that there were 3 men doing half a mans job or that they hardly spoke a word to us and we didn't mind that it was a 15 minute walk to the Nepal border. With every step we took we began to breathe fresher air, the stress of the past 48 hours was beginning to lift and the mountains appeared in front of the rising sun. As we left India and into Nepal the last conversation we had is detailed below, it will hopefully help you understand India.
Indian Gentleman: 'Hello, where are from?'
John: 'We are from Ireland'
Indian Gentleman: 'Ah Ireland, where are you going?'
John: 'We are going to Nepal'
Indian Gentleman: 'Ah Nepal, yes I know it'
Since the Indian gentleman was a soldier guarding the India-Nepal border crossing we were rather relieved to know that nepal was a place he knew of!..like I said it was a very Indian weekend.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Generosity beyond our understanding.
Louise and I had our last day in the slum on Friday. We have been teaching English for the last four weeks and there have been some tough times when we felt very much out of our depth but also very rewarding times when we felt that God has used us to make a difference. We both believed God wanted us to spend some of our time here while we are away, we believed it was primarily to give something to the slum and to the work of Asha. As usual we left having learned something that we were not expecting, God has a way of doing that doesn't he?
First of all Louise and I have learned that really we do not pray enough. The stories you hear of people being healed, found and provided for are amazing. However when you put them in the context of them happening usually within 15mins to 2hrs of the woman praying in Jesus' name, it is something quite miraculous. Praying in Jesus' name is very significant as many of the women are Hindu/Sikh or Muslim and are used to praying to many god's. One of the kids asked me “What god do you pray too?” I responded “I only pray to God, there is only one God.” Her response “Ahh Christian, will you say a prayer?” So God allowed me to pray for a class of about 15 young girls over their future. To be honest I do not remember the content of the prayer, all I remember was that I prayed in Jesus' name,
Secondly we received what can only be described as a flood of gifts on our last day, mostly from the children, and some even turned up late because they were at the market buying them. I had so many bracelets on one wrist that there was no need to put sun cream on as there was hardly an inch of skin showing! We visited some of children in their homes in the afternoon, some live in homes so cramped they don't even have a bed. I managed to get a picture of Louise seeing one girls precious possession, a small family photo album. As she explained to Louise who each person was in the album the joy of someone taking an interest in her life and family was so evident. We have received much more from these children than we have given in terms of time but God has chosen to bless both us and the children.
Third, and last, we have been so encouraged by the way in which everyone rejoices in each others blessings. There is a Friday afternoon prayer meeting where there is worship, testimony and prayer. With every amazing story comes the cry of hallelujah even if someone is still waiting for answered prayer. We in the UK are so guilty of being selfish in our celebrations, especially Christians. How often do we not celebrate with someone because in someway we are a little bit jealous, saying to ourselves 'why doesn't God bless me?', I know I have. We need to talk more about answered prayer, or struggles with what we might perceive as unanswered prayer. We need to be more like a family and share more, and maybe we would love each other more because of it?
First of all Louise and I have learned that really we do not pray enough. The stories you hear of people being healed, found and provided for are amazing. However when you put them in the context of them happening usually within 15mins to 2hrs of the woman praying in Jesus' name, it is something quite miraculous. Praying in Jesus' name is very significant as many of the women are Hindu/Sikh or Muslim and are used to praying to many god's. One of the kids asked me “What god do you pray too?” I responded “I only pray to God, there is only one God.” Her response “Ahh Christian, will you say a prayer?” So God allowed me to pray for a class of about 15 young girls over their future. To be honest I do not remember the content of the prayer, all I remember was that I prayed in Jesus' name,
Secondly we received what can only be described as a flood of gifts on our last day, mostly from the children, and some even turned up late because they were at the market buying them. I had so many bracelets on one wrist that there was no need to put sun cream on as there was hardly an inch of skin showing! We visited some of children in their homes in the afternoon, some live in homes so cramped they don't even have a bed. I managed to get a picture of Louise seeing one girls precious possession, a small family photo album. As she explained to Louise who each person was in the album the joy of someone taking an interest in her life and family was so evident. We have received much more from these children than we have given in terms of time but God has chosen to bless both us and the children.
Third, and last, we have been so encouraged by the way in which everyone rejoices in each others blessings. There is a Friday afternoon prayer meeting where there is worship, testimony and prayer. With every amazing story comes the cry of hallelujah even if someone is still waiting for answered prayer. We in the UK are so guilty of being selfish in our celebrations, especially Christians. How often do we not celebrate with someone because in someway we are a little bit jealous, saying to ourselves 'why doesn't God bless me?', I know I have. We need to talk more about answered prayer, or struggles with what we might perceive as unanswered prayer. We need to be more like a family and share more, and maybe we would love each other more because of it?
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Larry's first blog.
Hello, me name's Larry, Larry the Leprechaun. These too eejits managed to pack me away in their luggage over a month ago and flown me away to some theme park me thinks. It's not green and there are lots of trill seeking rides in green and yellow dodgems.
We went to their version of disneyland after they finally found me, but they called it the Taj Mehaal, it had a castle an everyt'ing. I managed to sneak out of da bag once they smuggled me
troo security (I'm used to that being Irish!!) and even managed to get a picture beside it.
But that fat eejit John charged me tree hoondred and terty tree roopees for it, he said it was a beard tax but I've got ma eye on that one, flippin tight scotsman.
We also managed to go to something called Agra Fort, it didn't make sense t' me but there was this really keewl arch type place. This only cost me terty roopees hat service charge, I tink John is just trying to get me to say foony tings in an Irish accent!!!
Ok, dat's enoof fer now. I'll keep you up to date wit what dees two silly eejits are up to.
Larry
We went to their version of disneyland after they finally found me, but they called it the Taj Mehaal, it had a castle an everyt'ing. I managed to sneak out of da bag once they smuggled me
troo security (I'm used to that being Irish!!) and even managed to get a picture beside it.
But that fat eejit John charged me tree hoondred and terty tree roopees for it, he said it was a beard tax but I've got ma eye on that one, flippin tight scotsman.
We also managed to go to something called Agra Fort, it didn't make sense t' me but there was this really keewl arch type place. This only cost me terty roopees hat service charge, I tink John is just trying to get me to say foony tings in an Irish accent!!!
Ok, dat's enoof fer now. I'll keep you up to date wit what dees two silly eejits are up to.
Larry
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Skin tax!
One of the most tiring things we have to deal with here is the constant concern about whether we are getting ripped off. We enjoy using the metro here for one reason, not because you're quite often left sniffing someones armpit (like me this morning) due to the sardine can situation that occurs at every rush hour, or by the fact you provide the local talking point as 'those tourists on the train' and get stared at accordingly. No we enjoy it because the prices are up on the wall, it is cheap and you can know with confidence that you are paying the same as somebody local.
We met a father and son from Canada while we shared a table at a local restaurant. We started chatting and quite soon found common ground in our experiences here in Delhi. The son phrased it quite perfectly 'Why should I have to pay skin tax?'
Almost everywhere we go we are asked 'how are you?' 'where are you from?' and unfortunately a lot of this isn't genuine friendliness. It usually leads to an 'official' government tourist office or the 'actual' train booking center. Even when you just want to jump in a taxi/auto rickshaw you have to spend several minutes negotiating the price down, even though there are meters and they show you exactly how much you are getting ripped off by. A good example of the degree some people are trying to do this was when we were shopping in Palika Bazaar, a trashy underground market in the center of Delhi. Louise had seen a lovely top on sale for 150 rupees, about £2. We tried to haggle it down but the seller wasn't budging so we walked away and looked at a few other stalls. Just when we were about to leave Louise spotted the very same top in another stall and asked how much it was. The answer was 850 rupees. We consequently haggled it down to 150 and it was one of many similar stories that day but it really just showed us by how much some people will go to ripping you off, and unfortunately it will have something to do with the fact you don't look Indian.
Please don't get me wrong, haggling is part of the culture here and it is quite funny to see some of the expressions used by locals when haggling over a dozen bananas. It is also a nice feeling when you feel you've struck a bargain and managed to avoid the skin tax by knowing what you should pay in advance. We also despair at some tourists who just fall right into the trap and because it is relatively little money in western terms they just pay whatever is asked for. I was asked to pay £50 for a pair of plastic leather shoes, I was so annoyed I almost walked out wearing them. Yet you see someone fresh off the tour bus paying £15 for a scarf that is worth no more than £1.
Unfortunately you are also heavily penalised at the tourist sites as well. We went to the Taj Mahal on Saturday and it cost us almost £11 to get in, price for an Indian national, 30p. You do sometimes wonder if India will ever become the superpower it wishes to be when visitors to the country are treated in this way. Maybe I am looking at it with my western eyes and maybe I'm naive. However, from what I've seen through Asha and being a visitor there is something deeply ingrained that has to change before it can happen. I'm not claiming I know what it is and I am no sociologist but here endeth the rant!
We met a father and son from Canada while we shared a table at a local restaurant. We started chatting and quite soon found common ground in our experiences here in Delhi. The son phrased it quite perfectly 'Why should I have to pay skin tax?'
Almost everywhere we go we are asked 'how are you?' 'where are you from?' and unfortunately a lot of this isn't genuine friendliness. It usually leads to an 'official' government tourist office or the 'actual' train booking center. Even when you just want to jump in a taxi/auto rickshaw you have to spend several minutes negotiating the price down, even though there are meters and they show you exactly how much you are getting ripped off by. A good example of the degree some people are trying to do this was when we were shopping in Palika Bazaar, a trashy underground market in the center of Delhi. Louise had seen a lovely top on sale for 150 rupees, about £2. We tried to haggle it down but the seller wasn't budging so we walked away and looked at a few other stalls. Just when we were about to leave Louise spotted the very same top in another stall and asked how much it was. The answer was 850 rupees. We consequently haggled it down to 150 and it was one of many similar stories that day but it really just showed us by how much some people will go to ripping you off, and unfortunately it will have something to do with the fact you don't look Indian.
Please don't get me wrong, haggling is part of the culture here and it is quite funny to see some of the expressions used by locals when haggling over a dozen bananas. It is also a nice feeling when you feel you've struck a bargain and managed to avoid the skin tax by knowing what you should pay in advance. We also despair at some tourists who just fall right into the trap and because it is relatively little money in western terms they just pay whatever is asked for. I was asked to pay £50 for a pair of plastic leather shoes, I was so annoyed I almost walked out wearing them. Yet you see someone fresh off the tour bus paying £15 for a scarf that is worth no more than £1.
Unfortunately you are also heavily penalised at the tourist sites as well. We went to the Taj Mahal on Saturday and it cost us almost £11 to get in, price for an Indian national, 30p. You do sometimes wonder if India will ever become the superpower it wishes to be when visitors to the country are treated in this way. Maybe I am looking at it with my western eyes and maybe I'm naive. However, from what I've seen through Asha and being a visitor there is something deeply ingrained that has to change before it can happen. I'm not claiming I know what it is and I am no sociologist but here endeth the rant!
Sunday, 6 March 2011
An Indian credit crisis success.
On Friday Louise and I managed to go to Kalkaji slum, it was very significant for Louise as this was the same slum she went to 10 years ago with her school, Methody. We were tagging along with another couple who were starting a fortnight of volunteering there and also a Dutch family who were interested in the work of Asha.
It was quite similar to our reception in Trilok Puri when we first arrived with garlands of flowers placed over our heads and a tour of the center with similar programs/groups running such as the computer literacy classes and Bal Mandal (Children's group). The Womens group was meeting when we arrived and we sat with them, drank tea and asked questions. The majority of the questioning was being led from the Dutch family partly because they were very keen to see the benefit of Asha and we had already asked most of the questions/already knew of the work that they were asking about, What did strike me though was one of the answers to the questions asked which was in regard to the financial benefits Asha has been able to provide to slum dwellers.
I'll try and explain the history and it will be checked by Louise and therefore will have a combined accuracy of about 63.56%, 63 of which will be Louise's contribution. In truth I've lifted most of it from Asha's Annual report so it is pretty accurate.
Millions of Delhi's slum dwellers have struggled financially for years with no access to financial services. Those who tried to approach banks were turned away, and others just felt that banks were only for the well-off members of society. With no other options, they rely on the services of moneylenders who charge crippling interest rates of around 60% APR, and always end up worse off.
Asha is determined to remove the obstacles that keep slum dwellers enslaved in the cycle of poverty. They have worked with the Government of India's Ministry of Finance to develop a scheme that would enable slum dwellers to open zero-balance bank accounts and obtain low interest loans. Staff and community volunteers publicise the scheme, explain the benefits to people who could make use of it and assist subsequent applicants with the custom-designed forms. Over the past year, 10,617 bank accounts have been opened and over Rs. 73,85,461 (approximately 156,000 USD) granted in loans.
Here we have a credit crisis, not caused by over spending, major risk taking or sheer greed but by poverty, desperation and persecution for being poor.
A lot of the women we talked to had taken up these loans, from as little as 5000 rupees (£70), which they would pay back over a period of between 1 and 5 years. That wasn't what struck me, what struck me was the answer to the following question:
What is the repayment success rate? Answer: 98%.
If we asked RBS, Lloyds or any other taxpayer owned bank whether they would be keen to take on such a reliable group then I've got a funny feeling they might be nibbling at your shoulder blade by now. I think we are sometimes too quick in the west to jump to the conclusion that if someone is poor it's because they are lazy or just plain stupid. Banks too can be too quick to write someone off as a potential lending opportunity as they don't live in the right street or have insufficient income.
But you know what, these women don't care about bakers bonuses, MP's expenses or footballers salaries, they just want to be able make some decisions for themselves. They gave an impression that life is very good for them now, that since they have brick built homes they don't have to worry (as much) about the monsoons. I got a shock that day when we walked around the slum and visited some of the homes, most didn't even have a door and if you have a smaller bathroom than their whole house you'd be looking to build an extension. Some may say it's all relative, what I say is that Asha has given these people what they and all of us are really looking for, to be able to decide for themselves.
It was quite similar to our reception in Trilok Puri when we first arrived with garlands of flowers placed over our heads and a tour of the center with similar programs/groups running such as the computer literacy classes and Bal Mandal (Children's group). The Womens group was meeting when we arrived and we sat with them, drank tea and asked questions. The majority of the questioning was being led from the Dutch family partly because they were very keen to see the benefit of Asha and we had already asked most of the questions/already knew of the work that they were asking about, What did strike me though was one of the answers to the questions asked which was in regard to the financial benefits Asha has been able to provide to slum dwellers.
I'll try and explain the history and it will be checked by Louise and therefore will have a combined accuracy of about 63.56%, 63 of which will be Louise's contribution. In truth I've lifted most of it from Asha's Annual report so it is pretty accurate.
Millions of Delhi's slum dwellers have struggled financially for years with no access to financial services. Those who tried to approach banks were turned away, and others just felt that banks were only for the well-off members of society. With no other options, they rely on the services of moneylenders who charge crippling interest rates of around 60% APR, and always end up worse off.
Asha is determined to remove the obstacles that keep slum dwellers enslaved in the cycle of poverty. They have worked with the Government of India's Ministry of Finance to develop a scheme that would enable slum dwellers to open zero-balance bank accounts and obtain low interest loans. Staff and community volunteers publicise the scheme, explain the benefits to people who could make use of it and assist subsequent applicants with the custom-designed forms. Over the past year, 10,617 bank accounts have been opened and over Rs. 73,85,461 (approximately 156,000 USD) granted in loans.
Here we have a credit crisis, not caused by over spending, major risk taking or sheer greed but by poverty, desperation and persecution for being poor.
A lot of the women we talked to had taken up these loans, from as little as 5000 rupees (£70), which they would pay back over a period of between 1 and 5 years. That wasn't what struck me, what struck me was the answer to the following question:
What is the repayment success rate? Answer: 98%.
If we asked RBS, Lloyds or any other taxpayer owned bank whether they would be keen to take on such a reliable group then I've got a funny feeling they might be nibbling at your shoulder blade by now. I think we are sometimes too quick in the west to jump to the conclusion that if someone is poor it's because they are lazy or just plain stupid. Banks too can be too quick to write someone off as a potential lending opportunity as they don't live in the right street or have insufficient income.
But you know what, these women don't care about bakers bonuses, MP's expenses or footballers salaries, they just want to be able make some decisions for themselves. They gave an impression that life is very good for them now, that since they have brick built homes they don't have to worry (as much) about the monsoons. I got a shock that day when we walked around the slum and visited some of the homes, most didn't even have a door and if you have a smaller bathroom than their whole house you'd be looking to build an extension. Some may say it's all relative, what I say is that Asha has given these people what they and all of us are really looking for, to be able to decide for themselves.
Monday, 28 February 2011
I saw the circus today
I didn't go to the circus today,
It came to me.
I was just simply walking along
When it bounced out from behind a tree.
Running along, backwards,
it clapped and jumped
then spun things round on its head
a backward flip
and through a hoop
a routine perfectly played
But this was a circus
that I didn't like
In fact it just felt so wrong
Because this little circus
was really a boy
dancing to a man made song.
Little children of 7 or 8
should never be
forced to perform.
It came to me.
I was just simply walking along
When it bounced out from behind a tree.
Running along, backwards,
it clapped and jumped
then spun things round on its head
a backward flip
and through a hoop
a routine perfectly played
But this was a circus
that I didn't like
In fact it just felt so wrong
Because this little circus
was really a boy
dancing to a man made song.
Little children of 7 or 8
should never be
forced to perform.
Wearing a Sari
All week the ASHA centre at Trilokpuri Slum has been busy with a church team from London painting the walls inside. It has made the week go so fast! To celebrate the newly painted walls a special event was held on Saturday with Dr Kiran (founder and director of ASHA) as a guest. The children danced, the president of the womens group, the president of the children's group and some of the London team all made speeches. It was a special day for the community and I had been under some peer pressure to dress for the occasion...”you will wear a sari!” the women declared during the week, “I don't have one!” I replied, “you wear sari!” came the response...well, I thought, maybe I should. So I set out this week to get a sari. We went to the INA market, one we enjoy going to because it's not in the guide book and therefore it is mostly full of locals getting on with their day to day business. The sellers here are a little less pushy and it makes for a more pleasant shopping experience! We sat as a seller displayed one sari after another, carefully unfolding beautiful pieces of material in front of us. One power cut and about 20 sari's later I saw one I liked, but alas! It was too expensive “johabada” I said (meaning “too much”) but the price didn't come down enough so we thanked him and moved to the next “shop”. Here we had sari's flung at us, in a rather poor show of sales technique! However, this seller had a sari at a price I was willing to pay. We bartered a little, negotiated the tailoring of the blouse and the deal was done.
I was nervous putting the sari on for the event! It's been a while since I wore one and I just about remembered how to put it on! Being on the road for a year and always eager to spend as little as possible we were traveling to the slum the same way we do each day by metro then by rickshaw, so this sari needed to be on well! I worked at it, with John's help, and was quite pleased with the result....and I didn't even use any pins!!!! Off we went! You know I get stared at all the time here by, well, everyone...you would think perhaps wearing a sari would maybe reduce the stares but no, it actually increased them! I made it to the metro without mishap, phew! But the metro can be mental here, to say you get packed in like sardines would be an understatement! The metro has a few carriages reserved for women only, and although I usually travel with John in the normal carriages this time I wasn't taking the risk. I can tell you, traveling in the ladies only carriage is a different experience altogether! For one, it wasn't crowed, it also was full of chatter and although I was as stared at by the women as I am by the men at least this time a peer took me under her wing for the journey...my friend beckoned me to sit with her after saying “beautiful” as she looked at me in my sari. I initially declined explaining I was wearing said sari without pins and was rather nervous to do anything in it that involved movement at all! “It is better to sit” she said and that was that. It was an interesting chat which began with the usual discussion of the Indian's hot topics: where are you from? Are you married? Do you have any children? and Do you not want any children? (i.e. why on earth do you not already have a few?!). She then proceeded to tell me that everyone was staring at me because they were ashamed, she explained that they all want to be like westerners, with pale skin and western clothes and they see me in Indian clothes and feel ashamed that even I am wearing them and they are not. Anyway the journey left me feeling ok about my sari wearing attempt, I was looking forward to seeing the women's reaction when I arrived at Trilokpuri slum!
I wasn't disappointed with the reaction, it was quite funny, I got a lovely look of realisation and appreciation that I had arrived in a sari which lasted about, well, 3 seconds, before being whisked, no, dragged off to a room by about 4 women and girls where they proceeded to almost completely undo the whole sari and redress me! I'll confess it did look better once they were finished, mind you there were four of them working away at getting me right as well as a fair number of other women giving their contribution or opinion as they wandered in and out for the entertainment! I obviously hadn't taken the wearing a sari thing far enough because after fixing the sari itself some of the girls came and fixed the ankle bracelets I was wearing which they had given me as a gift and then another woman stuck a bindi on my forehead (the red dot worn by Hindu women to traditionally indicate they are married), next I was waved over while one woman pushed bracelets onto my arm and fretted about the fact I wasn't wearing a necklace and a young girl came over and gently pushed a ring onto my finger. Between all of this and the henna designs on both sides of my right arm I was feeling more Indian by the minute...(I'm trying to catch up with John on this achievement as he has already been declared “really Indian now” after a show of eating large amounts of spicy food made by the women in the slum)...after all the fixing and additions the girls were delighted and even declared me to be like their bollywood heroine Katrina Kaif!! Result! In stark contrast, today John went shopping for a shirt and trousers for a special event we are attending on Wednesday. He got a shirt for a mere Rs75 (about a pound..mind you it sounded like he was putting a sheet of paper on himself when he tried it on!), but trousers were harder come by, one sellar simply said “your size no”...John remains trouserless for Wednesdays event, here's hoping he can find something tomorrow!
Dancing with the girls.
Dressed up for the special day!
I was nervous putting the sari on for the event! It's been a while since I wore one and I just about remembered how to put it on! Being on the road for a year and always eager to spend as little as possible we were traveling to the slum the same way we do each day by metro then by rickshaw, so this sari needed to be on well! I worked at it, with John's help, and was quite pleased with the result....and I didn't even use any pins!!!! Off we went! You know I get stared at all the time here by, well, everyone...you would think perhaps wearing a sari would maybe reduce the stares but no, it actually increased them! I made it to the metro without mishap, phew! But the metro can be mental here, to say you get packed in like sardines would be an understatement! The metro has a few carriages reserved for women only, and although I usually travel with John in the normal carriages this time I wasn't taking the risk. I can tell you, traveling in the ladies only carriage is a different experience altogether! For one, it wasn't crowed, it also was full of chatter and although I was as stared at by the women as I am by the men at least this time a peer took me under her wing for the journey...my friend beckoned me to sit with her after saying “beautiful” as she looked at me in my sari. I initially declined explaining I was wearing said sari without pins and was rather nervous to do anything in it that involved movement at all! “It is better to sit” she said and that was that. It was an interesting chat which began with the usual discussion of the Indian's hot topics: where are you from? Are you married? Do you have any children? and Do you not want any children? (i.e. why on earth do you not already have a few?!). She then proceeded to tell me that everyone was staring at me because they were ashamed, she explained that they all want to be like westerners, with pale skin and western clothes and they see me in Indian clothes and feel ashamed that even I am wearing them and they are not. Anyway the journey left me feeling ok about my sari wearing attempt, I was looking forward to seeing the women's reaction when I arrived at Trilokpuri slum!
I wasn't disappointed with the reaction, it was quite funny, I got a lovely look of realisation and appreciation that I had arrived in a sari which lasted about, well, 3 seconds, before being whisked, no, dragged off to a room by about 4 women and girls where they proceeded to almost completely undo the whole sari and redress me! I'll confess it did look better once they were finished, mind you there were four of them working away at getting me right as well as a fair number of other women giving their contribution or opinion as they wandered in and out for the entertainment! I obviously hadn't taken the wearing a sari thing far enough because after fixing the sari itself some of the girls came and fixed the ankle bracelets I was wearing which they had given me as a gift and then another woman stuck a bindi on my forehead (the red dot worn by Hindu women to traditionally indicate they are married), next I was waved over while one woman pushed bracelets onto my arm and fretted about the fact I wasn't wearing a necklace and a young girl came over and gently pushed a ring onto my finger. Between all of this and the henna designs on both sides of my right arm I was feeling more Indian by the minute...(I'm trying to catch up with John on this achievement as he has already been declared “really Indian now” after a show of eating large amounts of spicy food made by the women in the slum)...after all the fixing and additions the girls were delighted and even declared me to be like their bollywood heroine Katrina Kaif!! Result! In stark contrast, today John went shopping for a shirt and trousers for a special event we are attending on Wednesday. He got a shirt for a mere Rs75 (about a pound..mind you it sounded like he was putting a sheet of paper on himself when he tried it on!), but trousers were harder come by, one sellar simply said “your size no”...John remains trouserless for Wednesdays event, here's hoping he can find something tomorrow!
Dancing with the girls.
Dressed up for the special day!
Thursday, 24 February 2011
A community health volunteer describes the contents of the medical box she carries to help treat minor illnesses in her community.
Meeting a first time mum with her 10 day old baby, the babies health record sitting nearby.
Cricket is a very serious matter...some of the boys from our english class pose, could this be the next world cup team for India??
Enjoying good company and fellowship with Tom and Linda...the Scotland/Ireland ASHA connection!
The boys in the english class listen intently to John and his puppet friend Eric!
The girls, usually quite calm, go crazy over a wordsearch!
Pimp my horn!
One of the most distinctive sounds in Delhi is the almost continuous sound of beeping horns. I have spent the last few days trying to determine exactly how one uses their horn in Delhi and to what extent it is considered rude to press one's “excuse me old chap, would you mind moving out of the way” button?
First of all, you can forget about your traffic on the M8/M6/M25/Westlink when trying to comprehend what the traffic is like on a main road. If you can picture a sand timer and all the grains of sand are cars/scooters/buses/trucks/rickshaws/bicycles/cows/people/donkeys and the timer is the road you will be somewhere on the right track. Therefore using ones horn is essential to navigate such a 'hullabaloo' and I think I may have worked out the correct etiquette and is detailed below:
1 short beep = “Hello dear fellow, just letting you know I am here”
1 reasonably long beep = “Do please move out of the way as I am heading towards you and I'm afraid I might kill you if you don't.”
or
“I am turning left/right so please do not attempt to cross this particular road, again I may kill you”
Relentlessly leaning on
the horn with all their = Either “one's horn is broken” or “I'm deaf/blind”
might.
The other strange thing is that there seems to be some strange underground horn 'pimping' scene here. Those of you familiar with the tv show 'Pimp my ride' will understand this but for those who are doing a bit of head scratching just now it basically means people change their horns for a more 'unique' model, similar to the neds/chavs/steeks who put massive wheels and loud exhausts on their battered Citreon saxo's.
The result is that you will be walking along the street and a small battered scooter driven by an elderly gentleman buzzes past and you are treated to an Indian version of the dukes of hazzard. You also have the fading horn which sounds similar to the Doppler effect but is actually just more annoying. And finally you have the gentleman who has used his horn so much that he has in effect worn it out. The result of which is something between a kazoo and a constipated Donald Duck.
And so hear ends my description/translation of the Indian horn culture, something which I think everyone should experience at least once in their lives, even if it is the last.
First of all, you can forget about your traffic on the M8/M6/M25/Westlink when trying to comprehend what the traffic is like on a main road. If you can picture a sand timer and all the grains of sand are cars/scooters/buses/trucks/rickshaws/bicycles/cows/people/donkeys and the timer is the road you will be somewhere on the right track. Therefore using ones horn is essential to navigate such a 'hullabaloo' and I think I may have worked out the correct etiquette and is detailed below:
1 short beep = “Hello dear fellow, just letting you know I am here”
1 reasonably long beep = “Do please move out of the way as I am heading towards you and I'm afraid I might kill you if you don't.”
or
“I am turning left/right so please do not attempt to cross this particular road, again I may kill you”
Relentlessly leaning on
the horn with all their = Either “one's horn is broken” or “I'm deaf/blind”
might.
The other strange thing is that there seems to be some strange underground horn 'pimping' scene here. Those of you familiar with the tv show 'Pimp my ride' will understand this but for those who are doing a bit of head scratching just now it basically means people change their horns for a more 'unique' model, similar to the neds/chavs/steeks who put massive wheels and loud exhausts on their battered Citreon saxo's.
The result is that you will be walking along the street and a small battered scooter driven by an elderly gentleman buzzes past and you are treated to an Indian version of the dukes of hazzard. You also have the fading horn which sounds similar to the Doppler effect but is actually just more annoying. And finally you have the gentleman who has used his horn so much that he has in effect worn it out. The result of which is something between a kazoo and a constipated Donald Duck.
And so hear ends my description/translation of the Indian horn culture, something which I think everyone should experience at least once in their lives, even if it is the last.
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
The Power of Prayer
I was invited to join the ladies prayer meeting in the slum last Friday and I can only describe the experience as an immense privilege which left me full of wonder at God's active movement in the slums...these ladies from the slum community meet each week to worship, pray, share testimony of how God is at work in their lives and read the Bible. As I finished off teaching a girls English class I heard the meeting start up as a drum beat loudly with wonderful rhythmic sound and praise rose up in Hindi. I slipped in once class was finished, taking my shoes off at the door and joining the 15 or so ladies sitting cross legged on the floor. I felt so humbled and full of joy as I listened to their testimonies. These women, most of them from a Hindu background, told stories of how they “pray in Jesus' name” whatever need they have or situation they face. One shared, emotionally, that her daughter was to be engaged, but she was unable to afford to pay for the engagement, she prayed in Jesus' name and within a few days her friends and family had helped to provide all the money she needed, another explained that her son-in-law had gone out one night, got caught up in a fight and hadn't returned home for a few days, the family and especially his wife were obviously concerned, she prayed in Jesus' name that her son-in-law would make contact to let them know he was ok and within 20 minutes of praying he phoned her! Others relayed stories of healing and provision, each time the testimony was the same “i prayed in Jesus' name and my need was met”.
I was impacted by the simplicity of these womens faith, yet how confident they were in the name of Jesus, each one had been touched by Him. It made me think of how I unnecessarily complicate my faith a lot and how little I allow myself to rely fully on God. These women look to Jesus for all their needs, and they don't have materialistic safety nets like we often do in the west, if you understand what I mean? They have real faith, they understand, in a way we rarely allow ourselves to, that God alone can provide for all their needs. Praying specifically “in Jesus' name” took on new significance too that day, in a culture full of spirituality, full of names of gods and karma and fate, a culture full of worship and prayer to anything and everything the name of Jesus is what is making the difference in these womens lives. These women know that of all the names you can call on, Jesus is the only one that can “move mountains”.
The hardest part of the meeting for me was when the women read from the Bible. They read from Proverbs 22: “A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold...Rich and poor have this in common: The Lord is the maker of them all.”...heads nod...”The rich rule over the poor, and the borrower is servant to the lender”, “A generous man will himself be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor” (verses 1, 2, 7, 9). Reading what the Bible says about the poor is very different when you are reading it along with people who are poor. And do you know what? It is among the poor that I see the most biblical faith, these poor share their food with the poor, they share the little wealth hey have too and their time, they are a family, they are what believers have been called to be. I was asked to share a message from the Bible and pray for the women at the end, I honestly felt so unworthy to do so. These womens faith was uncomplicated and it was real, I have a lot to learn from them and I can't wait till next Friday when we will meet again to pray...
I was impacted by the simplicity of these womens faith, yet how confident they were in the name of Jesus, each one had been touched by Him. It made me think of how I unnecessarily complicate my faith a lot and how little I allow myself to rely fully on God. These women look to Jesus for all their needs, and they don't have materialistic safety nets like we often do in the west, if you understand what I mean? They have real faith, they understand, in a way we rarely allow ourselves to, that God alone can provide for all their needs. Praying specifically “in Jesus' name” took on new significance too that day, in a culture full of spirituality, full of names of gods and karma and fate, a culture full of worship and prayer to anything and everything the name of Jesus is what is making the difference in these womens lives. These women know that of all the names you can call on, Jesus is the only one that can “move mountains”.
The hardest part of the meeting for me was when the women read from the Bible. They read from Proverbs 22: “A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold...Rich and poor have this in common: The Lord is the maker of them all.”...heads nod...”The rich rule over the poor, and the borrower is servant to the lender”, “A generous man will himself be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor” (verses 1, 2, 7, 9). Reading what the Bible says about the poor is very different when you are reading it along with people who are poor. And do you know what? It is among the poor that I see the most biblical faith, these poor share their food with the poor, they share the little wealth hey have too and their time, they are a family, they are what believers have been called to be. I was asked to share a message from the Bible and pray for the women at the end, I honestly felt so unworthy to do so. These womens faith was uncomplicated and it was real, I have a lot to learn from them and I can't wait till next Friday when we will meet again to pray...
Monday, 21 February 2011
Education and English
Where do we start? there is so much we want to say, more than we can say in one entry but we'll make a start....it's been a full week now since we began our english teaching with ASHA and it's been a steep learning curve. Teaching english doesn't come naturally to either of us but as the week has progressed we have gained confidence and hopefully our teaching is improving! The most difficult part of teaching has been working out what level the children are at. We have found that some of the children have very little english, others are very skillled at reading and writing english but struggle to understand spoken english and lack confidence in speaking in english. The children have shown us some of their school text books which are in english and we have been shocked at the high level of english in these books contain and feel that while they can “read” the text there is perhaps little understanding of the meaning.
We are teaching four classes a day, each lasting one hour...although the timing, like the attendance, start and finish time and whether the class actually takes place at all, are all subject to change at any given second! It can be quite funny really, every class has a slightly different make up of children in it and can range from 4 – 20 children!! The children are keen, eager to jot down whatever is on the board into their jotters and although we don't give homework, some have spontaneously done some extra work between one class and the next, bringing it to us for “marking”. We have a red smiley face teachers stamp which they all love to have stamped on their completed work and it is just so lovely to see their beaming faces as you say “well done” and stamp and big smile on their page. We do wonder if these children get much encouragement or praise at school.
ASHA has placed a real focus on supporting young people in the slums in their education over these last few years and the results are amazing. For the first time ever, young people from the slums of Delhi are accessing further and higher education, many of them now attending university. We met Pinki, a young girl in the slums about to sit her “year 12” exams, the exams that determine who will be able to apply for university, i guess the equivilent of our A-Levels or Highers. These exams are in english which puts children in the slums, who attend state funded hindi medium schools, at a severe disadvantage to those children fortunate enough to be educated in private english medium schools. ASHA provide books to help the children study, organise extra english classes (like ours) and provide mock exams to help the children be well prepared and give them the best chance they can have. We have been impressed as we arrive at the centre each day to find year 12 students sitting on the floor in the centre studying hard. Pinki told us she has “high hopes” of doing well in her exams and wants to go to university to study political science...keep her and her studies in your prayers, she sits her exam on the 3rd of March!
We are teaching four classes a day, each lasting one hour...although the timing, like the attendance, start and finish time and whether the class actually takes place at all, are all subject to change at any given second! It can be quite funny really, every class has a slightly different make up of children in it and can range from 4 – 20 children!! The children are keen, eager to jot down whatever is on the board into their jotters and although we don't give homework, some have spontaneously done some extra work between one class and the next, bringing it to us for “marking”. We have a red smiley face teachers stamp which they all love to have stamped on their completed work and it is just so lovely to see their beaming faces as you say “well done” and stamp and big smile on their page. We do wonder if these children get much encouragement or praise at school.
ASHA has placed a real focus on supporting young people in the slums in their education over these last few years and the results are amazing. For the first time ever, young people from the slums of Delhi are accessing further and higher education, many of them now attending university. We met Pinki, a young girl in the slums about to sit her “year 12” exams, the exams that determine who will be able to apply for university, i guess the equivilent of our A-Levels or Highers. These exams are in english which puts children in the slums, who attend state funded hindi medium schools, at a severe disadvantage to those children fortunate enough to be educated in private english medium schools. ASHA provide books to help the children study, organise extra english classes (like ours) and provide mock exams to help the children be well prepared and give them the best chance they can have. We have been impressed as we arrive at the centre each day to find year 12 students sitting on the floor in the centre studying hard. Pinki told us she has “high hopes” of doing well in her exams and wants to go to university to study political science...keep her and her studies in your prayers, she sits her exam on the 3rd of March!
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