A different world...

I stopped near the Turbhe station and called Abhay.  "I am here" I said, "how do I come?"

"OK" he answered "Come close to the station and take a left into the gully opposite the main gate.  I will send David to meet you."

I hung up and drove the Papaya forward another 50 meters or so.  There was the main entrance to the Turbhe local railway station on my right.  So I took a left into a tiny crowded road that entered what could be any of Mumbai's slum settlements.

Shops on both sides, some selling mobile phones, others rice and other dry goods, small hole in the wall eateries.  The narrow road made narrower by a market on both sides, hand carts laden with oranges (in season right now) and vegetables.   People and motorcycles moving this way and that.  My car moved slowly and my horn was used a number of times.

The road started to climb a hill.  I was scanning the pedestrians for David.  I saw him just as a large car coming the other way forced me over into an awkward spot.  David clambered in, I reversed out and started climbing again. Slowly.

And then I noticed that I was not in Kansas anymore.

The shops had disappeared.  There were small huts on either side.  And there were girls sitting on the stoops.  Lots of girls.  Looking out in the warm afternoon sun.  Lounging on plastic chairs.

At some undefined point we had entered into Turbhe's red-light area.

David guided me ahead.  "Take this lane.  Right here.  Straight ahead.  Left here."   We finally stopped in front of a shuttered ware house.  A small lane led to more ware house doors, men were lifting things.  I parked and we got out.

David Gurung is a part of the Manna Prayer House, an amazing ministry to women engaged in the sex trade and their children, rooted in the heart of the Turbhe red light area.

David took me down two tiny alleys and we were there.  A small door with chappals outside, the sound of singing coming from inside.  We ducked in and were in a small room with some 20 kids and a number of women, in front was an old friend of mine - Asaram K - playing the bongos and singing.

Abhay Sharma - who along with his wife Hoinu helped set up the Manna Prayer House - welcomed me with a hug.  I had been asked to share from God's word, and after some more singing, I was up. 

I shared about the disciples being in the boat, rowing in the darkness of the night, with the wind and waves against them.   What was the experience of these ladies?  I could tell some were Nepali.  One or two of the songs had been in Bengali, so I assumed that a number of them were from Bangladesh or West Bengal.  A madonna-like woman - clearly from Nepal - had a small child in her lap.   I later learned that she was HIV positive and had been started on ART. 

Sitting in the small room - with bright posters on the wall and the kids in front of me being normal kids - squirming and singing and poking each other and sleeping - what would I know of the troubles that these ladies go through?   Abhay told me afterwards that many of the mothers want the children to be at the Manna Prayer House because otherwise the kids are with them in their 'rooms' (curtain-separated cubicles) often under the mothers' beds while they service their clients.

We talked about how the disciples felt that they were alone, far from Jesus.  But that He had been on the mountain praying for them - and went out to meet them... walking on the water.   When those hardy fishermen saw Him the cried out with fear.  All they could think about was that He was a ghost.  But Jesus immediately calls out to them:  "Take courage.  It is I.  Don't be afraid."

And that's what Jesus is telling each one of us.  Be it a woman far from her home in Nepal - in the grime of a distant city selling herself and cradling her child in her lap - or a mixed up chappie with multiple blessings who has just come by for a few hours and will soon be back in the comforts of a flat with a family and love and prayers.  But the awesome truth is that we are both made by a loving Master's hands - and all of us have the amazing opportunity to be loved by the One who left heavenly glory to be born in flesh and blood.


True to their name, there was prayer.  At the end of the meeting, we prayed for a number of the ladies.  Three of them were HIV positive and are being cared for by the staff of the centre.

The picture on the right is from the Manna Prayer House website. One of the things each of us needs is to have a hand put on us and be prayed for.

After the meeting we shared a meal together.  And then Abhay took me over to the original place that the Manna Prayer House started in.  A 10 by 20 ft room, with two beds in it, a small office and big pictures on the wall of Nepal adorned with Bible verses.   This had been a brothel - and they were able to purchase it some years ago.  Today it serves as an early half-way home.  A place where ladies can take the first steps of getting out of the system. Women can come and stay there.  And some do.  For months.  Abhay told about one woman who they were able to reunite back with her family in Nepal.

It is also a place where the sick stay.  Manna Prayer House is looking after a number of women who have HIV - taking them to the govt. hospital for their ART treatment.  Jeevan Sahara Kendra ran a testing camp with them last year - a way of helping the women in the area know whether they have HIV or not.  A small step to try and help them see the value of stepping out of the trade.

Abhay opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic bag and pulled out a bunch of wooden bead bracelets and earrings.  "We welcome women to come and do something" he said "while they make these we talk with them, make friendships, pray with them."  He asked me to chose some for Asha - I took two.

In the empty room we prayed together.  I am so grateful for Abhay and his wife and the amazing single-minded love they have for the ladies around them. 

He told me that there were about 15,000 women in the trade in area.  Each room goes for about Rs. 15,000 rent per month - and the owners ask for a Rs. 5 lakh deposit.  Flesh sells.

The room they are renting for the children's centre is being given to them at Rs. 8 K per month.  No deposit.  The owner has a soft heart for them.  They are using the place to the maximum.

Walking through the lanes with Abhay was surreal.  Here he is making a friendly comment to almost all the women sitting in front of their doors.  The ladies are in a line, sitting on plastic chairs, combing and oiling their hair, basking in the late afternoon sun, listening to songs and playing with mobiles, chatting or playing cards, looking languidly through a peddlers wares of small children's clothes.  I was struck again with just how massively strange it is to have this area so completely different from where we live.  Almost a parallel universe.  A place which I don't want to even believe exists - but is just a 45 minute drive away from our home.

It was getting to late afternoon when I headed out.  The first costumers were arriving.  A young man walks by - a woman with a neon bright shirt takes him away.  Another group of women are chatting when a man walks up.   I look away. 

Many many years ago, a wise man wrote this about a similar situation:

I saw among the simple, I noticed among the young men,
    a youth who had no sense.
He was going down the street near her corner,
    walking along in the direction of her house
at twilight, as the day was fading,
    as the dark of night set in.

Then out came a woman to meet him...  (Prov. 7.7-10)

Today a number of churches across Mumbai held a "Mumbai AIDS Sunday."  Different congregations prayed and asked God to touch people suffering from HIV, challenged each other to reach out and care for those in need, prayed that the spread of HIV would slow down even more, asked Jesus to break our hearts by the things that break His....

Abhay and Hoinu and their colleagues at Manna Prayer House are living out these prayers.  We are so, so thankful to God for them.   Eternity will see the impact of their lives.

Fits and starts

Epilepsy is a mystery.

What actually happens inside the mind of a person having an epileptic seizure.  We are told that the seizures come from "excessive and abnormal cortical nerve cell activity in the brain."

The cells seem to be firing at will, but how does it get there - and how does it resolve?

This evening Yohan was reciting a poem he is memorising.  Then he stopped.  He looked side-ways.  Enoch thought he was trying to remember something.  Maybe he was.

But Sheba knew better.  Earlier in the day during a shopping outing Yohan had shown what looked like the onset of a fit.  So Sheba just took Yohan, who was frozen and looking sideways, and lay him down on the couch.

I was just finishing a conversation with Appa on the phone.

"He is having a fit" Sheba told me, and we sat with Yohan and put our hands on him and prayed to our Lord Jesus for help.  Calm prayers.  We have been here before.

And after barely 2 minutes of his slightly stiff, slightly askew manner, Yohan relaxed.  He opened his eyes a bit.  We reassured him that we were there with him.  Asha and Enoch joined us and we each prayed for Yohan and then let him sleep for some time.

-------------------------------------

Scroll back to the day before yesterday.  Our weekly Bible study, a small group of us crammed into an even smaller room.  We had wound up the study and were about to have our meal together.  We ask for testimonies and prayer requests.  Manpreet (all names changed of course) - a widowed lady - told about how she was so grateful that she was going to get an 'adhaar' card - and that her 'papers' are now almost all in order.  Then Hira, a young woman, told with tears in her eyes how she has been taking medicines but still gets fits.  She had actually fallen down on the street while walking to our time together.  What could we offer, but prayers and Sheba hugging this dear lady, herself an orphan.

In a day and age when we expect everything to be perfect, when medicine is supposed to deliver health - if not instantly, then at least after a little bit and after enough bells and whistles have sounded - and cash has changed hands.  For Hira, we have seen years of taking medicines and what seems very little improvement.

Should we change the therapy?  Or are we at the very limits of what can be done?

One thing is sure.  We are humbled to know that we don't have everything at our fingertips, that we just don't know everything there is to know (though my actions often seem to walk in that direction).

Every day we must trust.   Our meds help.  That's why we give them.  But cure comes from the Lord.  Each day is another opportunity to hold onto His hand more closely.


It's been more than 2 months since Yohan had his last fit, before this evening.  We are praying that the next one will come well after that... and would be thrilled if this was the last one ever.

A death in the family

James Tusing.  Died 2nd December 2015.

I count myself as an honorary member of the Tusing family after they opened their generous hearts to me while hosting in their home in Churachandpur, Manipur for some months in 1996.

Two years ago we as a family made a visit to Manipur, 17 years after I had last been there.  We were once again hosted by uncle Lalzakung Tusing.  Living on the ground floor were James and Kim.


I have just found out that James died last night.  A deep well of sadness has opened up again.

There are things that we just wish were different, if only a different road were taken.  There are prayers that parents made late at night for their children and we wonder what happened.  There are sorrows that defy easy answers, that gnaw deep within.

Far away in Australia, Jame's brother Philip has just shared this photo of him and his kid brother.

How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?

How do we process grief when so far away, when so apparently helpless?

One thing is sure, one thing is clear.

We serve One for whom tears were not strangers.  A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.

His tears mingle with ours, and with those of dear Uncle and Auntie in the wordlessness of the regret we share.  With his brothers Philip and Jacob and their families.  With those who loved James and prayed for him.

We know, that One day will come.  Will come.

When sorrow and grief are no more.  When He will wipe away the salty-bitter stains off our faces.

This day we walk through the valley.

Holding His hand.

World AIDS Day 2015

I just did a search for 'World AIDS Day' on this blog ... and surprise surprise, a good many posts of 'Chai Chats with the Eichers' have had those words.

Well.  Here is another one.  And it is being written with a difference - it is the last one that I will be writing while still serving with Jeevan Sahara Kendra.

World AIDS Day comes on the 1st of December each year.  And for us in India we are now drawing to a close for this World AIDS Day - while folks on the other side of the earth-ball are waking up to Dec. 1st 2015.

This 1st of December marks an amazing anniversary for us.

A year ago today (of all days) Yohan came into our lives.  We had been told in the last week of November 2014 about a sick orphan boy whose parents had died of HIV and who needed to be stabilised and then sent to an orphanage.  We told the concerned folks to bring him over to the JSK centre.  We were not sure what we could do, but we wanted to try.  As I recall they were supposed to come on the 30th of Nov.  Instead, they came on the 1st of Dec. 

Who would have imagined that a year later he would be part of our family.  This evening we told him that we would be celebrating his birthday on the 13th of December - and have a party for him on the 12th!  He is thrilled.  We had hoped to have the legal adoption papers by now, but the year is slipping by and so we prayerfully made the choice to step forward with this.

This 1st of December is also pretty melancholy in some ways.  It marks the beginning of our last month with Jeevan Sahara.  We gave a letter to Bethany Trust in early October saying that we would be handing back the leadership of JSK back to them on the 31st of December.   Amidst the hustle and bustle of this year's World AIDS Day and Mumbai AIDS Sunday work, we have a small voice saying... this may be the last time you do this, and hmmm wonder if that will happen again...

But having said all of that, here was our day!

We started bright and early with Sheba and I having our cuppa and spending time with the Lord on our own.   A recent Family Camp has challenged me to see this as my 'most important meeting' and really look forward to it - and I am reaping some of the benefit of this.

Sheba made the tiffins for the kids while I showered and then revved up our Papaya for our school-car-pooling run.  We were down-stairs by 7.25 and had picked up the other two kids 5 mins later and were whizzing off to BSS in Powai before you can say Jack Robinson.

After I dropped off our treasures, I hared it back to Thane to attend the monthly Pastors Fellowship breakfast which we have each first Tuesday of the month.   I was able to share with my dear friends about the upcoming Mumbai AIDS Sunday - we are hoping that many church fellowships will have a special time focussing on the needs of people with HIV on Dec. 6th - the first Sunday after World AIDS Day.   We had special time of prayer this morning as well.

The Jeevan Sahara Kendra team had headed out early for a special day-long HIV counselling and testing camp in Kalwa along with the Sahwas organisation.   It was a grand success with 126 people being tested in a very underserved slum community.  Our whole team pitched in and the church volunteers were great.  We will find out tomorrow if any of the tests came back positive - but we are very grateful for everyone who chipped in.

After the Pastor's meeting I picked up some boxes of books that we are hoping to give as gifts at the upcoming Positive Friends Annual Thanksgiving time (Dec. 19th - mark your calendars and call us at 9321112065 if you want to participate or help out in any way).

Then to pick up Yohan - who had been given early morning home-schooling by Sheba and then had 2 hours with Mrs. Priya Sane - his tutor.   We then had a quick lunch together and read from one of the Ladybird books which has survived my childhood.

A quick lay down (my back has been acting up again this week) and then I hit the computer to finish off the Monthly Prayer Calendar (sent off just after 1 PM) and then I needed to find out how to get to Govandi west.

Sheba came back from the clinic so that I could head back out again for an HIV awareness programme that Vision Rescue had asked me to do.  I thought I was getting late - and had not been to Shivaji Nagar before so our humble Papaya started acting like she was an F1 racer (not really, but I did go a shade faster than normal).

Shivaji Nagar is a massive slum settlement on the edge of the city.  Literally.  The place where the Vision Rescue folks have a small community centre is right at the edge of this sprawling settlement.  Beyond you see some open ground, then a large land-fill with hundreds of plastic bags flying in the sky - behind which are the mangrove swamps of Mumbai... and then the dirty sea that laps around the city.   The slum is just off the main air corridor, so we saw plane after plane fly by on their way to land at one of the Mumbai airports.

I was brought up to a tiny room with sewing machines lining the walls.  There were posters of sewing implements and clothes.  This place is used to train local women in tailoring skills.  A number of the young women were there - most dressed in hijab - and on the other side of the room their mothers.  We had a good time going over the basics of HIV and how to prevent its spread - and what can be done if we have it.  Knowledge is power - and being able to talk about things openly really helps.  One middle aged lady said that she is so relieved now - since she had been in fear of people with HIV - but knowing that it does not spread in routine daily contact really took a load off her.

We then went out to a near-by cross-roads for a street play which was put on by the NSS group from a Mumbai college.  The play was of course about HIV, but was a bit of a disappointment.  Earnest young folks who had clearly practiced for it - but too many words, too confusing, all in Marathi (when most of the local population in this slum only knows Hindi)... A goodly crowd which gathered did not really what they really needed to see.  But commendable that the group had come out all the way to share what they could...

I had another session to take.  This time with men.  Well, make that 2 men, 8 adolescents and a smattering of boys.  It was good fun to go through the same presentation with the other gender.   The boys seemed to have shorter attention spans - but I think I was able to get through to some of them.

Then it was back in the Papaya and into the gradually rising traffic flows back to Thane.

Tuesday nights are Bible study nights for the Eichers.  We have been meeting in the home of Sister Shanti for the past 3 years now.  Tonight's topic was not about HIV - but almost all those present have some experience with the disease.  Either living with the virus, or the children of someone who does... or did.  A small group - but one with very special needs.  One dear young woman had a mild epileptic fit during our time together.  She expressed at the prayer time how sad she is to be taking medication and still be getting these dizzy spells.    A widow lady thanked God that she was getting an adhaar card soon.  Just 3 months previous she had had virtually no identification proof.  Now slowing the JSK team has been helping her build a set of documents which will help her and her children in the future.

We then all had supper together.  All that is except Yohan.  He had had his meal at 7 PM since he needs to take his 9 PM meds on an empty stomache.   His cheerful presence was with us, however, in the small room as we dug into our rice and rajma.  Our little Bible study is made up of very imperfect people - but the simple and profound truths we uncover need a life-time to implement.  We left with the assurance of the amazing love of King Jesus - and I could see it in the hug that Sheba gave our dear friend who has been suffering from Epilepsy.

So we come to the end of another World AIDS Day.  So much more to be done.  But so very much to be thankful for.

 

Ode to a cuppa

Sweet brown liquid you

All seasonal steaming stimulant

Flavoured ginger or elaichi

But never never red

Unless in some distant village

Or Manipuri home

I met you in my boyhood

Slurped out of saucers after church

Or taken innocently from our neighbours

Contrary to my German mother’s wish

We met repeatedly o'er time n space

In pots from melted snow while going up mountains,

Served in crusty glasses along midnight tube-lit roadside bus-halts,

Huge milky mugs in Shanti Kunj

The first sing-song call in the morning in a foetid train

The last gulp before the day’s work ends

You were in our hands as we heard sad stories of broken lives

You offered a set of small comforting welcomes to strangers

Who wanted to tell my wife and I the things that did not come easily to tongue

Is it a wonder that you help shift my night-owlness

Into early-birdnality, as your steaming ginger-flavoured presence

Graces the side of my Bible in morning prayer

Sweet, sugar-laden liquid you

(Miracle: I am still not diabetic at 46)

You reminded me of Bharat when I was in the spic-and-span ‘States’

A stranger, I looked up an Indian cookbook to recreate your spices

And served chai-tea from henceforth

Winning a few converts and making the odd chai-evangelist

As today’s sun has dipped

And twilight is punctuated by crow-cries and hammer blows and traffic rumble

Of our dear urbanity

Another cuppa has disappeared into me (a big one)

Slipping lightly over tongue and soothing slightly sore throat

While fingers tapped keys

Evoking tea

Fastport

I was at home this afternoon when the doorbell rang, talking on the phone, contacting folks about our Thanksgiving time this weekend where we will be sharing a new tool that we have developed: a small flipchart to help people with HIV take their ART medications better.

I asked the gent that I was speaking to whether I could call him back, because I thought it was a courier.  Since yesterday my old slipped disk problem has flared up again, and so I was pretty horizontal most of today. One of the advantages of phoning is that you can be supine while talking!

So over to the front door I go - and there is our local postman, with a speed post delivery.

It's Sheba's passport.  Freshly printed.  Delivered to the door.

We are on a Tuesday afternoon at 1.15 PM.    Am I dreaming?

The previous Thursday I had uploaded Sheba's passport reissue application.  Her passport had expired last year (sadly - not used abroad yet....).  I was astounded to get an appointment for the next day.  So on Friday at 10.30 I dropped her off at the passport seva kendra in town.   She was back at JSK by 1 PM that day - with her old passport duly cancelled and an SMS informing her that her passport is being processed.  Over the weekend we got other SMSes - stating that her passport had been sent for printing, had been printed, and then on Monday night we heard that it had been dispatched.

100 hours is all it took (and that too with a weekend in between) from Sheba walking in for her appointment and having the passport delivered at our door.

A normal passport.  Nothing special, no special fee.

When I think about the nightmares I have gone through with my precious Indian passport...

The nadir was my camping out at the Bareilly office in 1997 - trying to get it reissued so that I could go to Uganda.  Numerous times saying no to the various touts who lurked around, and numerous visits to the nightmare place - and that too after 'knowing' one of the officers there who was an acquaintance of Dad (but not in the good books of his colleagues since he was openly Christian and a strict no-bribe-man).  And having finally the blessed document delivered only to find out that they had made 4 mistakes - including wrongly writing the actual number of the passport!  The number that had been punched into every page and the number written on the first page differed!  The long bus journey back to Bareilly, the further meetings with the officials and finally having hand written remarks in it correcting the mistakes.  Real life Kafka.

And here we have the document in hand, a century of hours later.

What our government can do.  With a little partnership with others.  The passport seva kendras are manned by govt. staff - but only at the decision making level.  The other functions are farmed out to a private company who does all the basic work.  And does it ever work.

How many other functions could be farmed out this way?

My parents did not have a phone for 8 years because they did not pay the bribes the telecom wallahs were waiting for in those days.  Those days are long gone with the plethora of competition from mobile companies.

But so many areas of stick-in-the-mud intransigence remain.  Basic things like getting a ration card are virtualy impossible.  I went 4 times to get a voter registration - and finally got it for myself, but Sheba's application is still rejected because we honestly included her old voter card from her teenaged days in Odisha.  Even though the form has a place to declare that you are giving it up, the officials insisted that we get a no-objection-certificate from the officials in Odisha so that she can be registered here.

Aber Freunde, nicht diese toene, sondern angenehmere!

Just to say - so much is possible in our dear country of ours.  Including getting new passports in what is basically the blink of an eye.   Lets see this happen in other sectors too.

a few words about Yohan's adoption process - and a goodly amount of silence too (for now at least)

We are coming up on a year since Yohan first came into our lives.

At this time last year we had no idea that he was present in the world.

His mother had just died.  He and his younger step brother were taken in by a good samaritan lady who found them crying on the street outside the govt. hospital where their mother was dying.  Being a single woman of modest means, she sent the boys to her mother in the village - a formidable woman who took them in.

But Yohan was also sick.  The family was just not able to care for him and so appealed to a Christ-following doctor they knew to have him cared for.   He called us.  Could we admit him at Jeevan Sahara Kendra, stabilise him, and then have him looked after in an orphanage...

Yohan was admitted at JSK on the 1st of December.  A small sick boy.  Not much hope.  

How much has changed in this year.  For Yohan.  For all of us.

Yohan did so well at JSK.  He gained weight.  We started him on the ART meds.  He was loved by many.  He not only survived, he began to thrive.  And then the question of where he would go started to crop up.   

As we prayed for options, we saw many doors shut.  We earnestly wanted him to be taken in by a family.  And slowly the voice of our Lord started speaking to Sheba and myself - that we should be that family.

On the 24th of January Yohan joined us.   It's been an amazing 10 months so far.   So much to be thankful for.  So much more work to do.  So many areas we all need to grow.  Individually. Together.  As a family.  

We got foster care rights after 6 trips to the authorities.   That was in April.  Then in August we asked to have Yohan declared free for adoption.   

I have purposely not written much about what we have been going through since we don't want to affect the 'due process' but let it be known that it has not been a very joyous experience.   One day, when the dust has settled, we will tell all.  

Till then here is a small teaser, a small glimpse into this unfolding part of our lives, a simple request for prayers on our behalf....

Yesterday Sheba went to another set of authorities in another part of the district.   The official who met her told her that the adoption guidelines have totally changed since there was so much abuse of the previous set up.  Kids being sold.  So the new process is all about being open.  All kids are to be on a website.  All prospective adoptive parents (unflatteringly abbreviated as PAPs) are to be registered on the website and then matched to their 'choices.' But the new guidelines have been dropped in without any training for all the govt. stakeholders.   

But he struck a note of hope for us, by saying that he would be uploading Yohan's details this weekend.  And then informing us so that we should do the same.  And then he said he would tell the adoption authorities that we should be given Yohan - and that he would write an order to the folks whom we have been going to so far (I am purposely not writing their title, name, place here so as not to show up on some random search engine) - and here is the kicker: he says that his order will be to those folks to declare Yohan 'free for adoption.'

If we get that ruling then it should be a matter of less than a month of going to the court and getting the adoption order as Yohan is a special needs child in a number of ways.

A lot is going on these days...

Your prayers are most welcome into the mix!  

One of these days we will be able to give you some really good news - and also be able to spill the beans on what has been going on behind the scenes (and what has not).  

Till then, stay tuned, and keep prayin'!