Postcards from Paradise - end of 2009 edition

Four days can hold a lot!

Sleeping, talking, eating, more sleeping, reading, more eating, songs, a trip to the beach, more sleeping and talking, more songs, games, worship with the local saints, more talking and eating, more games and all-round fun as a family.

Here are a few glimpses into our days with Amma and Appa here in Tungalam Village, outside Vishakapatnam.

In 30 mins we get onto the auto – and then through the night to our train and then 2 nights and a day (with confirmed tickets this time) before we arrive in Thane at 3 AM on the 31st.

We have already harvested many happy memories!

Rude comfort

For there was no room for them in the inn…

Whether it was a real inn that Joseph and Mary were looking for – or whether the guest rooms of their extended families were just too full – the fact is that the new family was weary and alone and had to find a rude accommodation in an animal shed.

We experienced a little bit of that on Christmas eve ourselves.

A month ago we decided that since we had not met Amma and Appa all year – that we just had to go and meet them – even if it was only for 4 days – between Christmas and New Years. Getting tickets for the train was impossible. But since we knew a person high up in the railways – we were told that we would be put on a VIP quota.

On the 24th – we were almost in a daze of tiredness as we packed up for the 30 hour trip. Just before we left we checked what our seat numbers would be – and found to our horror that the VIP quota had not worked. We were still without a berth.

What to do? Our cell phones had been giving problems and we tried to phone the person. The taxi was at the door. We got in and left for the hour-long drive to Kalyan, not knowing what the next steps would be.

Our friend told us that he would talk to the Station Manager at Kalyan. He did. When we got to Kalyan we searched him down. He had us get an unreserved ticket to start with. With that in hand, we were then given over to the head ticket collector – he was to meet the ticket collector from the train when it came in and make sure we got a berth.

The train steamed in. We met the man. No berths available. We got in the train with sinking hearts and a hope that something would work out.

Something did work out – but not in the way that we wanted. With each step of the trip, we met the ticket collectors. They told us to wait and that they would check and see if there were any vacancies. Two of them assured us that we would at least get a berth. The kids sat down. Sheba and I took turns standing and sitting at the edges of people’s berths. Our monster suitcase and its mini-twin were next to the door. Asha’s violin was perched here and there.

Stations came and went. People kept getting in more and more. We did not have a berth. Ticket collectors came through and did not say anything to us. I went out and pleaded.

I saw notes passing hands and others gave the bribes to the ticket collectors.

Pune came and went. It was dark. The kids were tired. So were Sheba and I. We gave them a bit of the supper Sheba had made. Perched precariously in the passage-way.

People were accommodating, but there were so many of us – and of other ‘berth-less’ passengers.
I had to remember my own behaviour in the past. My statements to people that ‘this was a reserved coach’ – that people should ‘go to the general compartment.’

As the night became dark and cold, the promises of the ticket collectors rang hollow. Metallic taste in mouth. Prayers said and re-said.

Finally I went to one of the coupes and asked whether we could sleep on the ground in between the berths. It was hard to do so. They agreed. We spread out our sheet on the ground and Sheba sat down with Asha lying in her lap. Enoch was given part of a berth to sleep on by another lady. I stood and perched at the edge of the berth.

Slowly the hours past. Sheba finally slid down and lay beside Asha. I mounted vigil. It was surreal to read “The Prodigal God” by Tim Keller and “Refractions” by Makoto Fujimori – such beautiful prose – in such dingy surroundings.

The whole theatre of the absurd was made more so by my attire. I have never worn shorts on a trip (ok in the last 30 years that is), but had to do so because I had a large infected boil on my calf. So here I was, wearing shorts and dosing myself with ampiclox every 6 hours (helps to have a doctor in the house), and applying Neosporin lotion to the angry looking brute on my leg every now and then.

Half-way through the night we switched. Sheba sat up for some hours while I dozed on the floor with Asha. Then it was my turn again. Dawn came slowly.

The day continued our perching on the edge. Sheba and the kids were magnificent. No word of complaint. Christmas day found us not in the situation we had hoped for. The small gifts that we had prepared were brought out in stages. Two books for the kids from Alistair and Merryn Appleby made their appearance first. The kids devoured them. Breakfast and lunch was eked out in stages. Our neighbours basically gave up a seat for us. We rotated through it. Moving occasionally from one corner to the next coupe. All along our jumbo case had become the seat for sundry men next to the door. Sheba and I took turns catching some winks of shut-eye in the upper berths during the morning.

We were not only passing through peak time – but also through political turbulence. The day we left our friend Nalini Gabriel and her daughters had been halted in their train by striking agitationists demanding a new state of Telangana out of Andhra Pradesh. They were delayed for over 10 hours. We only ran 2 hours late when we came into Vijaywada at 4 PM – 24 hours after we left Kalyan.

I finally got a nod from a ticket collector to take up a berth in the next bogie – and we gratefully shifted over for the final 7 hours of the journey in the relative roominess of a berth to share.

And so we came to heaven. Amma and Appa’s home at midnight. Victor having picked us up in the auto. A lit tree waiting. A hot bath for us all. And sleep. Blessed sleep.

Train ride

The Eichers are on the move again. This time over to the other side of India. 30 hours by train - including Christmas eve and most of Christmas day.

Our destination? 4 days of bliss with Sheba's parents at their home outside Vishakapatnam - of which the first 2 will be with Sheba's sister Sarah, her hubby Victor and their lovely daughter Joanna.

Then 29th night, back in the train and 2 nights and 30 hours later we will arrive in Thane at 3 am. Having done a goodly tour of our beloved country using our beloved rail system (thank God for cheap tickets).


We have another 16 hours to go. As always plenty of last minute things to grind through before we can collapse in our moving holiday coach! Ah the books that are waiting to be read. The pulling into small unknown stations and getting out to stretch.

Its not often that we have as much room as we did when we travelled from Ranchi to Rourkela (above) earlier this year. Lets see what tomorrow holds!

Vishakapatnam here we come!

Happy

Froh zu sein bedarf es wenig, Und wer froh ist, ist ein Koenig.
You have to love the German language for its ability to capture something simply but meatily (no prizes for guessing what Martin Luther spoke and wrote).

The couplet above was taught to me on my mother's knee. She would sing it in her own special way - the voice of which travels over the years in my memory.

The gist is this: it doesn't take much to make one happy, and whoever is happy - is a king!

How totally and completely true this is. How totally and completely against most of what our over-complex world this is.

Last month Sheba visited 3 widows living within shouting distance of each other. They were a study in contrasts.

All 3 are HIV positive. All have lost their husbands to HIV. All are taking Antiretroviral medications to keep the virus in check.

Mrs. Lalita is a picture of despair. She has 2 sons who are HIV positive. Two months ago she almost died from anaemia - but was saved by blood donations and transfusion at JSK. Its a hard life for Mrs. Lalita. We have offered to help her with food supplies - given by local church members but she refused saying she doesn't need them. Yet when Sheba met her Mrs. Lalita said that she had been running away her landlord. She has not paid her rent for the last 3 months, and when she saw her landlord coming she slipped away until the person left. When Sheba asked her whether she was meeting for worship as she promised, Mrs. Lalita said "I will go when the man up there gives me a job."

Mrs. Reshmi is a picture of hope. She has 4 children and used to live in a dump of a house - a filthy set of rags hanging on strings across the little room. Today she lives in the same house. She is still thin and still has 4 children who are growing up. But there is an amazing change. The home is spick and span. The children are going to school and dilligently help in the home. The oldest son has written down over a hundred songs in his diary and quickly gets it out to sing. Mrs. Reshmi worships with a simple group of Jesus followers. She has bad days too - but the changes in her life is remarkable.

Mrs. Manohar is confused and sad. She has 2 children and helps at JSK in cleaning. She is on ART and every time Sheba asks about her medication she says that she is taking them regularly. When asked for her pill chart, she says that she has it at home. Sheba visited her - and asked her to show the chart. She did. It was blank. Mrs. Manohar has not been taking the medications regularly. She cried. She has seen another local woman who is not responding to medications and she is scared. 'What will happen to me when I get to that state?' she asks. 'What will happen to my little girls?'

There are no easy answers. But it is good to remember the amazing fact of the all-knowing creator becoming small and vulnerable and being born into a home like one of these 3 ladies - broken and poor - of no consequence to the bright and the best.

Emmanuel means 'God with us.' Mrs. Reshmi has understood this well and is living it out in her own simple way. Mrs. Manohar is learning to accept and grow in it. Mrs. Lalita has tasted the benefits but continues on her own way so far.

A little light

Two kids. Singing a song. Holding hands and doing a little dance. Beautiful little ones.

Both the children of women who were used by men in prostitution.

Timothy - as we will call the boy on the left - has already seen far more than any little boy of his age should ever see.

His mother left the brothel last year and accepted the offer of rehabilitation at a small centre close to JSK. His mother is HIV positive - but he is not.

After some time at the centre, his mother seemed to be doing well - and little Timothy was the cynosure of all eyes.

One day his mother told the supervisors at the home that she wanted to go to her home village. The supervisor bought her a ticket and some days later accompanied her to the train station and waved good-bye as the train with little Timothy and his mother left the station headed for the South.

A few weeks later - after not hearing anything from Timothy's mother, the supervisor got a shock. A team from Bhiwandi came and asked why the woman who had left the brothel there was back plying her trade.

The supervisor was crushed. When we heard about it we were terribly saddened. Timothy's mother had played an elaborate ruse - and had gotten off the train a few stations further and gone back to 'the trade'. Little Timothy - as with many children of prostitutes - was placed under the bed when his mother had customers. A bad scene.

But people prayed.

And amazingly, some weeks later, Timothy's mother returned - along with Timothy. The folks at the rehab centre had the grace to welcome them back - and now this little flame of a boy is back to blossoming as he had been.

We were blessed to have Timothy sing and dance with his little friend at the JSK Thanksgiving time last week. He is a living miracle. In the midst of darkness there are lights that shine.

Speechless

This blog started out with the words: ... let my words be few. I don't think it has quite turned out that way. But at present I am pretty speechless. And with good reason - I have laryngitis.

This week may have had something to do with is. To recap a wonderful set of events:

On Tuesday Sheba and I celebrated 10 years of God's faithfulness in our lives together. What better place than a lightning trip up to Matheran?


Ten years ago we would never have believed it if you would have shown us who we would be today - and what an amazing family we have become. We are very humbled and grateful - and especially thankful to all who have stood with us over the years.

The view from the toy train on the way back down (on Wednesday morning) was just superb. Worth the whole trip just to see the beauty of creation.

The week was spent preparing for out time with our JSK positive friends and church partners on Friday. The occasion was the annual Thanksgiving time that we hold at the end of each year.
It was a time of great rejoicing as we looked back at how good God has been to us this past year.

In the run up to the programme, we asked our friends to write down what they were thankful for during the year - on a smiley flower - which we then displayed on a mural sized poster at the Thanksgiving time.


Though so many of our Friends who have HIV have been through so much - and some who were part of last year's Thanksgiving time are not here with us this year - we still have seen so much goodness take place. In the midst of sorrow - there were so many testimonies about how God has been good to them. It is humbling to be part of this amazing process.

We finished off the evening with a joint meal. The 80 odd children were fed downstairs while the adults were served in the main hall of the Covenant Blessings Church which very generously hosted us for this time of Thanksgiving. It was also such a blessing to see members from various churches coming forward to help and serve our Positive Families.

Saturday was our final youth meeting of the year - and we wanted to do something special together - so a treasure-hunt hike was in order. The amazing hill that is just a stones throw from us - and which marks the beginning of Mumbai's 'green lung' - the Sanjay Gandhi National Park - was our playground.


Ryan and I had already done the whole circuit up the hill and around and down again from 1 - 3 PM - hiding the clues for the different stages when we started back up as a group at 3.15 PM.

At each stage we spent time reflecting on various parts of the year gone by - and sharing what we wanted to do differently in the next.

The clues then took the group up the trail, leading us to arrive on the top of the ridge in a new place - with a spectacular view of our booming city of Thane on one side - and ranges of forested hills on the other.

We gratefully bit into samosas on the top of the ridge (brought up by us of course) and soaked in the beauty while enjoying our fellowship together. It was great to look back on all that has happened this year - as well as deciding how we want to be different in 2010.

By the time we were able to see the spectacular sunset and started back down so that we would be back before dark - we had had a memorable day - and I had completely lost my voice to laryngitis.

That's the situation that I experienced today - not being able to sing in the Sunday worship at our house fellowship - and croaking out words most of the day.

So too at the wedding of Ruzbeh and Manjula which took place tonight in Ambernath. We went as a family - along with our fellow church leaders from Thane. I wanted to sing - but seemed to do more coughing instead!


Its been a great week - a memorable one for us all - and one that has left me speechless!

Broken

While we were on the mountain, tragedy continued down in the plains.

Mrs. Langru has been having an affair with a thief. He is married and has his own family. She has not told him that she is HIV positive. After it became painfully clear that her other two children were going to die of neglect (having lost one already) we took the boy and girl and put them in the care of a loving couple who is looking after destitute children.

Mrs. Langru has been carrying another child from the man she is involved in. The child seemed to have some serious congenital problems.

This child too, is no more.

Mrs. Langru's partner is in jail. On Monday - despite needing to be hospitalised herself, Mrs. Langru went to a far part of the city to meet him in custody and give him food. Yesterday it all fell apart. She had a spontaneous abortion. This child will not see the day. It has departed before it was born. Broken.

With no one to turn to, Mrs. Langru contacted our staff, who rushed her to the government hospital. Sunita stayed up all night to be with her - as Mrs. Langru has no one else. Whatever relatives she does have do not want anything to do with her - and especially do not want to pay for her hospitalisation.

How very very sad to see the brokenness in people's lives. And how frustrating to know that Mrs. Langru can change - but holds all the more tightly to her present miseries.