It is play group Thursday and as always the world is a crazy place as we tuk tuk across the city. The heat has abetted a little but sweat still trickles and pools. It is the month of holy pilgrims descending on our city in orange clad droves walking tens, hundreds or thousands of miles to get holy Mother Ganga water to carry back to their homes in hopes of healings, blessings, change. They plod barefoot through the streets in packs, hitch rides on tractors, pile into tongas. They are everywhere.
As we bump along Abe yells out every few minutes, "False god!" The orange idols gleam with fresh paint through the double grill fences that close in the evenings. As we pass an ATM painted in fresh orange he points and yells, "False god!" I refuse to correct him, he is passionate and most people have difficulty understanding him so I just let him express his interest and question. We talk about the power of stone, or lack thereof, and about loving people.
Abe is noisy. Really noisy but we live in a culture where there is noise all the time. All. The. Time. Driving around in a auto rickshaw is no exception. As we drove by a gas station a man on a loudspeaker was yelling to one and to all to come and see. There was a wire strapped to two bamboo shoots rigged up in the ground. The road whooshed by, the crowd grew even as we flew past in the sea of vehicles. It was the circus man with two small girls. They would walk the wire, do cartwheels, walk on their hands, and beg. They were wiry, dirty, and dark. They did not smile.
I read recently to enter a culture you should appreciate the culture, accept it, don't compare it to your world. That can be difficult because some things should not be accepted. They are wrong. They are ugly. They are evil. This is evil. This is wrong. This is not acceptable.
As we bump along Abe yells out every few minutes, "False god!" The orange idols gleam with fresh paint through the double grill fences that close in the evenings. As we pass an ATM painted in fresh orange he points and yells, "False god!" I refuse to correct him, he is passionate and most people have difficulty understanding him so I just let him express his interest and question. We talk about the power of stone, or lack thereof, and about loving people.
Abe is noisy. Really noisy but we live in a culture where there is noise all the time. All. The. Time. Driving around in a auto rickshaw is no exception. As we drove by a gas station a man on a loudspeaker was yelling to one and to all to come and see. There was a wire strapped to two bamboo shoots rigged up in the ground. The road whooshed by, the crowd grew even as we flew past in the sea of vehicles. It was the circus man with two small girls. They would walk the wire, do cartwheels, walk on their hands, and beg. They were wiry, dirty, and dark. They did not smile.
I read recently to enter a culture you should appreciate the culture, accept it, don't compare it to your world. That can be difficult because some things should not be accepted. They are wrong. They are ugly. They are evil. This is evil. This is wrong. This is not acceptable.
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