A small update on Satish - the little child admitted at JSK:
His face still looks like a tiny skull - the sunken eyes accentuated by him drifting off to sleep ever so often. Satish is still teetering on the verge of death. But he is eating. And really wants to eat.
Our nurses have been doing 12 hour shifts for a week now. Sandhya started nights this week, with Sunita going to do the days. Sheba goes over in the nights as well to spend time with Satish and his mother. The other 2 kids (older and younger to Satish) are taken to the child-care centre during the day.
The absolute torrent of a rainfall today did in whatever was left of their shack on the pavement. Rahul and Akshay went to the ruins this morning to see if they could salvage some of the papers that Satish's mother says she left there - including her card for her anti-retroviral medications she gets from the government ART centre in town.
On Saturday, Satish wanted to eat fish. He insisted on it. Sunita gave in. She bought fish and cooked it. Satish ate fish for lunch. And for supper.
Later in the night, when Sheba did her rounds with him, she asked Satish who made the fish. She expected him to say: "Sunita Sister" or "Sunita Auntie" or "Nurse Sunita".
Instead he said: "Jesus made it."
Monday, 28 July 2008
Bombs
Sheba and I had a conversation that I never thought we would. What should we tell Asha and Enoch to do if they find themselves in a bomb blast.
And what should they do? The very thought of it boggles the mind. A newly married man watched as a loud blast shook the street and threw his wife in the air. She was closest to the explosion - and died. What should Asha or Enoch do if they see something like that? If they experience that in their little bodies?
Whoever was responsible for the blasts this week in Bangalore and Ahmedabad was cold blooded in the extreme. The Bangalore bombings - where the newly-wed man lost his wife - saw multiple blasts - at least 7. The bombs in Ahmedabad were timed to kill people who were helping (something we hear from the Middle East) and for the first time they even targeted a hospital. Over 50 people died in the 16 known blasts.
Though we do not like to admit it, we are living in an age of terror. The anonymous act of violence looms over each one of us to greater or lesser degrees. My mother had a childhood defined by bombs - but those were from the Allied aircraft, carpet-bombing German cities in the quest for victory in Europe. The families would huddle around the radios hearing the evening news about in which cities bombs had fallen and what the damage was. Mum was sent to the countryside since Leipzig was a major target for the bombers - and during the three years she was away from her parents this little girl would listen and wonder if her parents had survived.
What we see today, however, is something altogether different. The bombs seem to be randomn. They keep coming. Its not clear who is actually doing this. A few groups 'claim responsibility' afterwards - but who can even understand their bizarre rantings? Who are these people? What drives them to purchase pressure cookers from the bazaars and pack it with explosives - and prime it with their mobile phones?
One thing is sure - these are frightfully normal people. How true the press repo
rts are is hard to know, but one of the men who died while carrying out one of the previous bombings in Mumbai kept a bar-dancer as his mistress and lived with her for some time. Hardly the stereo-type religious fanatic. Very much like many of the young men we are in touch with.
Inside each one of us lies the seeds of hatred and revenge. They may be small and ignored, but our thoughts lead to actions. We know that each person will stand one day before the great white throne and give account for everything that they have done. The bombers - whether found or not - will stand before their maker and will have the shocking task of seeing everything they thought and did laid out before them. Likewise the many who may not have actually bombed but supported them materially. Or logistically. Or by agreeing with their principles. Or by harbouring hatred in their own lives. Or by thinking thoughts of hatred towards others. From God's perspective - thoughts - if dwelled upon and relished - are just as real as the actions that often follow these fantasies.
So what to we tell our children? Well, right now we have decided not to specifically tell them what to do. We are going to love them and let them know that they are very precious to us. We are going to enjoy each day with them - and seek to build their character to carry on even if we are suddenly taken away from them (by bomb, accident or some other unexpected shock). We are going to spend time singing and exploring what it means to live with God as part of who we are right now.
And what should they do? The very thought of it boggles the mind. A newly married man watched as a loud blast shook the street and threw his wife in the air. She was closest to the explosion - and died. What should Asha or Enoch do if they see something like that? If they experience that in their little bodies?
Whoever was responsible for the blasts this week in Bangalore and Ahmedabad was cold blooded in the extreme. The Bangalore bombings - where the newly-wed man lost his wife - saw multiple blasts - at least 7. The bombs in Ahmedabad were timed to kill people who were helping (something we hear from the Middle East) and for the first time they even targeted a hospital. Over 50 people died in the 16 known blasts.
Though we do not like to admit it, we are living in an age of terror. The anonymous act of violence looms over each one of us to greater or lesser degrees. My mother had a childhood defined by bombs - but those were from the Allied aircraft, carpet-bombing German cities in the quest for victory in Europe. The families would huddle around the radios hearing the evening news about in which cities bombs had fallen and what the damage was. Mum was sent to the countryside since Leipzig was a major target for the bombers - and during the three years she was away from her parents this little girl would listen and wonder if her parents had survived.What we see today, however, is something altogether different. The bombs seem to be randomn. They keep coming. Its not clear who is actually doing this. A few groups 'claim responsibility' afterwards - but who can even understand their bizarre rantings? Who are these people? What drives them to purchase pressure cookers from the bazaars and pack it with explosives - and prime it with their mobile phones?
One thing is sure - these are frightfully normal people. How true the press repo
rts are is hard to know, but one of the men who died while carrying out one of the previous bombings in Mumbai kept a bar-dancer as his mistress and lived with her for some time. Hardly the stereo-type religious fanatic. Very much like many of the young men we are in touch with.Inside each one of us lies the seeds of hatred and revenge. They may be small and ignored, but our thoughts lead to actions. We know that each person will stand one day before the great white throne and give account for everything that they have done. The bombers - whether found or not - will stand before their maker and will have the shocking task of seeing everything they thought and did laid out before them. Likewise the many who may not have actually bombed but supported them materially. Or logistically. Or by agreeing with their principles. Or by harbouring hatred in their own lives. Or by thinking thoughts of hatred towards others. From God's perspective - thoughts - if dwelled upon and relished - are just as real as the actions that often follow these fantasies.
So what to we tell our children? Well, right now we have decided not to specifically tell them what to do. We are going to love them and let them know that they are very precious to us. We are going to enjoy each day with them - and seek to build their character to carry on even if we are suddenly taken away from them (by bomb, accident or some other unexpected shock). We are going to spend time singing and exploring what it means to live with God as part of who we are right now.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39
Saturday, 26 July 2008
The end of a training
Just finished off another set of Church Member trainings in HIV care today. 4 day-long sessions - interspersed at fortnightly intervals.
Each batch has its own unique flavour.
Today we were discussing death and how to help people who are dying. While we held the session in the meeting hall used by the Bethesda Assembly, just a wall away in our JSK centre, little Satish was fighting for life (note - it looks like he may pull through - he ate a whole banana on his own tonight - and some fish).
One of the salient points that came out again and again is that we are able to face dying - because of Lord Jesus has himself gone through the bitterness of death - and is able to help us with courage and hope. The other is that we are being comforted through Him and are able to comfort others in any kind of trouble (2 Cor. 1.4).
As we reviewed the training with our participants and staff we can only say that we are very grateful - all of us - for the learning experience we had together. An exercise we did was to stand in a circle. One person held a ball of red knitting wool. He or she then expressed something that touched us over the 4 sessions - and then threw the ball across the circle, while keeping hold of the end of the thread. The result was a beautiful web of red. We heard each point of the star as something that was to be thanked for.
Now that the training is over we need to see where our dear friends will take what they have learned. We were blessed to have 2 members of the Blessing Youth Mission who are working in rural Maharashtra and have come across many people with HIV. Other blessings were seeing local trainees meet people with HIV in their homes over the last 2 weeks.
This evening our youth from church discussed about how one of their 'mini-teams' have been visiting the home of a very sick person with HIV. Its sometimes not easy to visit him given his on-going illness and depression - but they are sticking with it - and have seen some small improvement in the man.
This is what we want to see take place - common people reaching out in love in the name and strength of our uncommon Lord Jesus.
Each batch has its own unique flavour.
Today we were discussing death and how to help people who are dying. While we held the session in the meeting hall used by the Bethesda Assembly, just a wall away in our JSK centre, little Satish was fighting for life (note - it looks like he may pull through - he ate a whole banana on his own tonight - and some fish).
One of the salient points that came out again and again is that we are able to face dying - because of Lord Jesus has himself gone through the bitterness of death - and is able to help us with courage and hope. The other is that we are being comforted through Him and are able to comfort others in any kind of trouble (2 Cor. 1.4).
As we reviewed the training with our participants and staff we can only say that we are very grateful - all of us - for the learning experience we had together. An exercise we did was to stand in a circle. One person held a ball of red knitting wool. He or she then expressed something that touched us over the 4 sessions - and then threw the ball across the circle, while keeping hold of the end of the thread. The result was a beautiful web of red. We heard each point of the star as something that was to be thanked for.
Now that the training is over we need to see where our dear friends will take what they have learned. We were blessed to have 2 members of the Blessing Youth Mission who are working in rural Maharashtra and have come across many people with HIV. Other blessings were seeing local trainees meet people with HIV in their homes over the last 2 weeks.
This evening our youth from church discussed about how one of their 'mini-teams' have been visiting the home of a very sick person with HIV. Its sometimes not easy to visit him given his on-going illness and depression - but they are sticking with it - and have seen some small improvement in the man.
This is what we want to see take place - common people reaching out in love in the name and strength of our uncommon Lord Jesus.
Friday, 25 July 2008
Rains
We started out this monsoon wet. Very wet. Then a span of dryness. Now we are wet again.How many prayers went up on behalf of the weather? Hard to say. The papers have pictures of various religions praying for rain. When it comes each will take credit for it.
We certainly prayed for rain as a church and a family. Though our creature comforts are a bit disturbed by the deluge that a good Mumbai monsoon is - we know that so much of our country depends on agriculture.
Being in Thane, we already have 4 hour power-cuts because of the rain scarcity (hotter - so more people in power-cut-free Mumbai use their air-cons more). But that is nothing compared to the farmers who have sowed their seeds in anticipation of rain and see grey but rainless clouds each day.
Did our prayers swing it? It certainly feels like it - though as said already folks from other faiths will also claim it was their efforts that brought about the moisture from above. Nothing new here too - we can think back to an episode where a man like you and me prayed, and the Lord shut the heavens for 3 years - and then he prayed again - fervently - and the Lord poured down rain.
How loving and gentle God is to hear his children.
How much of the intimate history of the world we will have to unwind and trace to the simple prayers of God's people.
A child slipping away
Little Satish is very sick. He lies in the bed at the JSK Centre with his eyes half-open, half asleep.
What is he thinking at this time?
Satish's little match stick arms peep out of a dress that Asha used to wear. He has had diarrhea so often that he is dressed in clothes that we and others have given to JSK to give away. Earlier in the day - when we had our morning team prayers with Satish's mother and older brother and younger sister I could see each of the children wearing one of Asha or Enoch's old clothes.
Pray for Satish and his mother. It doesn't look like he will pull through.
His mother's eyes fill up with tears anytime we talk with her.
Death is very close to us. Will Satish slip into the arms of the Lord - or will he come back to us and be the little boy we knew?
What is he thinking at this time?
Satish's little match stick arms peep out of a dress that Asha used to wear. He has had diarrhea so often that he is dressed in clothes that we and others have given to JSK to give away. Earlier in the day - when we had our morning team prayers with Satish's mother and older brother and younger sister I could see each of the children wearing one of Asha or Enoch's old clothes.
Pray for Satish and his mother. It doesn't look like he will pull through.
His mother's eyes fill up with tears anytime we talk with her.
Death is very close to us. Will Satish slip into the arms of the Lord - or will he come back to us and be the little boy we knew?
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
Living Legends: Rob Sinclair
Charles Darwin? Father Christmas? Karl Marx? Sri Rajneesh?The bearded man with the big smile is always a stand out. Rob Sinclair - him of the dusty sandals and the Ganges walk - was in town with his 15 year old daughter Alisha (how do they grow up so quickly) and the twosome stopped in to see us Eichers this afternoon.
After a prayer with little Satish at the JSK centre, Rob and Alisha climbed up the 7 stories to our flat (no power) and climbed down again (still no power) on their way to taking us out for a meal.
In the din of multiple birthday parties (and multiple times the famous song was sung) we had a lovely time with Rob and Alisha. Time was too short, of course, to reminisce on the many years we had together in Nana Chowk when Rob was the team leader of the OM mens team there.
Rob did tell Alisha that he had taught me my first lessons in driving - in a Willys jeep on the University grounds at Ranchi in 1983. He also remembered that I plundered his music collection at the time - and was fascinated by the now defunct (and forgotten) pop act called Supertramp. I idolised Rob and Pradip Ayer and made a memorable trip out to meet them in Ranchi as a 13 year old.
Rob is a real Barnabas. He continues to come to India every year for a season - of walking down the Ganga - meeting people - blessing them with his presence - his huge laugh and gracious persona.
As I write this on a sleek little MacBook that Rob and his wife Carol left for us - I know that we will be remembering this amazing family a lot in the days to come!
A question
We start our day at Jeevan Sahara with worship, prayer and a sharing from the word.
Yesterday we were joined by Rev Santosh George. Santosh lives in Delhi and is married to Atula who helps the SHALOM Delhi HIV care programme recruit churches to look after people with HIV. Santosh was in town to meet with the UBS Interns at JSK and other projects ministering with the poor in the city.
This is a story Santosh shared with us:
A mission hospital in the state of Orissa admitted a destitute woman who was so sick she could not move. All she had with her was a 7 year old boy. The doctors and nurses started looking after the woman - but the son proved to be a hand-full. He would cry and howl. Then stop. Then howl again. Noone could stop the noise. Some of the other patients and nurses threatened the boy. "If you don't stop we will give you an injection" "If you keep crying we will beat you." No effect. The boy kept up his intermittant but persistant howling.
A nurse saw this - and when she went to her quarters for a meal, she gathered some food into a small packet and took it back with her to the hospital.
When she met the boy again, she gave him the packet. He tore it open and wolfed down the food. The mother - who had seen all that was going on, but could not speak or move had tears in her eyes. She knew that the boy had not eaten for 2 days. The nurse did not linger - but went to rejoin her duty.
As she was walking away, she found a small hand on her. She looked down and saw the boy had run after her. He looked up at her and asked her in his Oriya dialect: "are you god?"
Yesterday we were joined by Rev Santosh George. Santosh lives in Delhi and is married to Atula who helps the SHALOM Delhi HIV care programme recruit churches to look after people with HIV. Santosh was in town to meet with the UBS Interns at JSK and other projects ministering with the poor in the city.
This is a story Santosh shared with us:
A mission hospital in the state of Orissa admitted a destitute woman who was so sick she could not move. All she had with her was a 7 year old boy. The doctors and nurses started looking after the woman - but the son proved to be a hand-full. He would cry and howl. Then stop. Then howl again. Noone could stop the noise. Some of the other patients and nurses threatened the boy. "If you don't stop we will give you an injection" "If you keep crying we will beat you." No effect. The boy kept up his intermittant but persistant howling.
A nurse saw this - and when she went to her quarters for a meal, she gathered some food into a small packet and took it back with her to the hospital.
When she met the boy again, she gave him the packet. He tore it open and wolfed down the food. The mother - who had seen all that was going on, but could not speak or move had tears in her eyes. She knew that the boy had not eaten for 2 days. The nurse did not linger - but went to rejoin her duty.
As she was walking away, she found a small hand on her. She looked down and saw the boy had run after her. He looked up at her and asked her in his Oriya dialect: "are you god?"
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