Varanasi, India 2008

इन्देपेंदांस!!!

2008-08-21T07:45:00.000-07:00

India’s National Anthem

Jana-gana-mana adhinayaka, jaya he
Bharata-bhagya-vihata
Pujab-Sindh-Gujarat-Maratha
Dravida-Utkala-Banga
Vindhya-Himachala-Yamuna-Ganga
Uchchhala-jaladhi-taranga.
Tava shubha name jage,
Tava shubha asisa mage,
Gahe tava jaya gatha.
Jana-gana-mangala-dayaka jaya he
Bharata-bhagya-vidhata.
Jaya he, jaya he, jaya he,
Jaya jaya jaya, jaya he!

Composed by: Rabindranath टगोर

सुच इस लाइफ.

2008-08-12T06:37:00.000-07:00

I worked so hard again today,
And taught a widow macramé.
Ever busy was our day,
Just barely finding the time to pray.
I thought myself into a headache today,
So thankful for His promise to stay.
It rains and pours for hours each day,
Still they’re thankful for a sky so grey.
Together, we laughed so much today,
My belly now sore from what she did say.
Her and I, we’re like sisters today,
We’ll be together, come what may.
My daddy cried for me today,
Silently on my bed I lay.
I hurt someone badly on this day,
I’m a human, it’s just our way.
My sweet mum kissed my cheek today,
I felt it softly from miles away.
They’ll love me forever, everyday…
Though I’m unworthy, I silently say.
Mistakes I made aplenty all day,
Perfection is lacking, I’m beginning to fray.
Still I’ll try tomorrow and the next day,
To follow His wisdom and obey.
I know God molded me today,
My shape coming together from that big heap of clay.

He gave us hands...

2008-07-29T01:46:00.000-07:00

I have always loved hands. One of the first things you see a baby do is lock their tiny fingers around their mother and father’s hand. As a child, the times I felt the safest were those times spent wrapped in my daddy’s arms or walking down the street with my little hand engulfed in his huge palm and work roughened fingers. To this day, when I‘m feeling down, I want nothing more than to feel my mom’s hands rubbing my back. Probably one of the most endearing scenes is that of a couple holding hands, so happy and in love.

We do so much with our hands…we work, we create, we write, we express emotions, we show others love or hate depending on our decisions, we live. They are, in my opinion, one of God’s greatest creations.

One day this week, when I was finished teaching, I sat on the floor and played with a four year old girl named Suman. She didn’t speak to me, but slowly became comfortable and offered a shy smile from time to time. I looked at her dusty little hands thinking to myself how utterly adorable this child is. My camera was laying on the floor next to me and glancing at her hand holding mine, I decided I absolutely needed to take a picture of the trust that tight little grip represented. I hope you enjoy the photos…..♥Nebin

"How beautiful the hands that served."

Let it rain....Let in Pour

2008-07-24T03:49:00.000-07:00

The season is monsoon season……That means that air that use to make you feel like you are in a oven, now is cool and wet. When I say wet I mean wet. Through out the night you will hear it, through the day you will see it, and when you need to go out, you will feel it. Our journey to the widow’s home and school has become very exciting, we have to make our way through the mud slide that once was a road. We walk through the mango garden like usual but now we skip through big puddles or small ponds on random bricks. Sometimes you can’t even see the bricks. Just this week, someone passed us and said, “ better rinse off your feet I just saw someone going to the bathroom there.” Oh the weather in India. But as the rain steadily falls I am reminded of a song which I don’t know the words to but one part goes, “ Let your fall…over me..” This song means let God’s rain fall over us….SO as it rains and rains and even though it is muddy and wet, I give thanks for it and hope that is cleansing this once hot and dry land.

Back to school, I see.

2008-07-17T03:33:00.000-07:00

Rule #1: Work hard and do your very best.

Rule #2: Respect your teachers.

Rule #3: Play nicely with eachother.

Rule #4: Eat your fruits before break.

Apartment:sorry it got a little messed up

2008-07-07T06:06:00.000-07:00

The view from the top

These are the two beds: Left is Nebins and Right is Mine
The other side of the room: As of Thursday, the couch wasn't there..

Walking up to our roof....and then you see two doors to the left
The left door lead you to the bathroom, living room, and kitchen, the right leads you to the bedroom

Some might question, “What does Nebin’s and Jessica’s room look like?” Well over the past week, without even talking about it started to clean and rearrange our room and whole flat. Even though we didn’t add or buy anything extra, we began to feel like it was more “ours”. It is funny what changing a bed from on side of a wall to another will do. Since I am excited about the changes I thought I would give you a photo tour.
Peace and love
Jessica

This is the veiw from outside the doors

Not quite Siamese twins...but almost.

2008-06-30T04:28:00.000-07:00

What does one do when your family and friends are on the other side of the planet?

How would someone go about living in India for 9 months without previously knowing the people they stay with there?

I'll tell you how...you put two crazy girls together and call them team mates and hope everything works out...

Thank the Lord that for us...it works.

"So you knew each other before coming here?" they ask us when we introduce ourselves. Sometimes we explain that we attended the same church, yet before January 20th barely saw each other. Other times we just look at each other and give a little laugh and answer, "Weeellll...sorta."

It's been nearly six months that we've been together and looking back at the first day we started this journey, it is almost funny. We've come from knowing only each other's names to reading each other's minds and I could not be more thankful for such a good friend to live with here in India.

There are days since being here where I have felt downright miserable and days where I would love to simply see my family. But being here with Jess is the next best thing. She has become practically like a sister and no matter how tired or grouchy we are...we manage to get along and even have a good time.

And now that more people know us...the question isn't "Did you know each other before." Now if someone sees us and the other isn't around, it's "Where's your other half?"

...only the oleanders thrived...

2008-06-17T01:14:00.000-07:00

It stood there amidst the business of that Varanasi street. Small and proud it stood...no taller than a man's outstretched hand. It seemed no one noticed it. I may have even missed its quiet beauty had Margreet not said, "Oh look how cute that tree is!"

We were in a hurry. It was almost dinnertime and we still had to find the shop to buy material in. But as we walked I looked at that one lone tree...an oleander she said. I had never seen an oleander tree before and I thought it was just lovely. Of course on this street it was the only speck of green life you could see.
Both sides of the road were lined with shops and people milled around everywhere. As usual, car horns honked, men shouted, goats played, and cows lowed. It was a typically hot and dusty day and after a long day out, we were each tired and ready to go home.

I suppose this setting is the reason that sweet little tree surprised me. It was as though it had grown from nothing. The concrete and dirt surrounded it and I doubt it had a caretaker. It was ignored in the middle of a mess, yet it grew perfectly there. Perhaps that tree was God's gift to that area of India. Just like a rainbow after the storm, that small and beautiful plant was like the promise of life to that dry and crazy street.

Eating with what you got....Your HANDS

2008-06-10T08:45:00.000-07:00

"Why don't they use silverwear?"
"I don't know", I replied but thinking " why use silverwear?"........

On Mondays all of the staff of the widow's home gathers together to have a time of worship and to eat together. Usually the meal is rice and a bean substance called dal sometime with some potatoes and other vegatables. Even though I was introduced to eating with my hands before coming to India, it is on Mondays that I get a real taste of how to eat with my hands.

So first you get a mountain of rice but I usually only have a small hill size. Then the dal is poured on. I have seen some make a little a little bowl in their rice and have the dal be poured in it or I have seen it be just pour on randomly. I usually have it random. Then you might think that you just dive into it, but first you take with your right hand and get a bit of rice. You move it around in the dal till it is in a bit of ball shape and then pop it in the good old month. Another way I have seen it be done is to do the same motion with the rice with the dal. But then take a bunch of rice in your hand and bite it out of your hand and then you throw it back on the plate, do the same process and then have another bite.

Most of the time Nebin and I resort back to using silverwear when we make our breakfast, lunch and dinner.....but there was this one time....We finished our dinner of probably vegatables and I still felt like eating something....something sweet. So I said, " I think I am going to have some oats" So we had oats and sugar with a little water to make the oats a little moist. We didn't eat it with our spoon, we went Indian style.

So why do they use their hands to eat?

Well I can't answer this question, why do humans do anything they do, perhaps there is an anthropologist out there that know the answer but for me, it is fun. It makes a weird bowl of oats and sugar become really exciting and fun to eat.

Thanks for enjoying the show
:Jessica

Dear Life.

2008-06-04T08:11:00.000-07:00

.Jewelry Seminar for Widows.

"Chillin' out, maxin', relaxin all cool..."

Jess helping with jewelry.

This is what happens when the room gets too hot...

Sometimes we have fun with pictures in the car.

{ALOT of fun}

...can you tell???

Being apart of things

2008-05-27T21:15:00.000-07:00

Nebin's beautiful design in the Hope Arts Shop
Ummmm......H2O
Family night-Water maddness
The shop getting bright and shiny-This picture doesn't give it justice

At one time
At one time these faces were strangers
At one time there was no communication between us
At one time, I understood as little as an ants is the universe
At one time, all I had to give was a smile
At one time, all I could see was the end
At one time, all I had was packed bags

At one time, I would never believe that I found a family in India.
With all of the uncertainty I have, from which food is safe to eat to what I am doing here, one thing I know for sure is that I will never think of India in the same way. One night I was thinking…what did I think of India before I came here? Not even books can tell you what I thought, what I thought of it was practically blank. Now I stand in the country of India with not only picture to tell a story but interactions with people that writes a novel in my mind.

At one time, I felt like an outsider, looking into a home for widows, an outsider looking into children’s eyes, an outsider looking into the humble widow’s work days. At one time, I would never think that I was part of something here.

I haven’t really thought I was part of the things that go on around the widow’s home till just in the past week. I was working on the Hope Art Shop and I pasted a widow. I asked “how are you” in Hindi and she replied and then asked me and I replied. Then words seem to want to drip out of her mouth, but she hesitated knowing I wouldn’t understand. Although that was frustrating, there was something in our interaction that gave me joy, perhaps it was because it was a connection, a connection that at one time I didn’t have.

Every month at the widow’s home there is a family night for the staff. This month there was water games. The evening was warm with a bit of cool breeze, very comparable to early August evenings. People gathered around playing water games, about a dozen mothers stood from the side lines with their babies and as I looked around, I was overwhelmed by how I knew everyone around. At one time, I walked into a room of the same people and called them strangers.

There are always children around, either the staffs of the widow’s home or the widow’s children. When I enter a room, I am greeted with a “hello Aunty”. There are also many babies around ranging from 1 months old to 1 year old. The times are countless that I laugh or joke with the children around. At one time, I was felt insecure around children and babies; I wasn’t quite sure how to act around them. I am learning you don’t have to act anyway around them; you just have to have fun and be yourself.

My friends and family are very far away. But I am developing a family in India, which at one time I could have never even thought of having. No longer will I think of India as books portray it, although it is filled with unexplainable poverty, tons of people, and cattle roaming the streets. It is a place of a smiling and relation based people that of at one time, I never thought I would be apart of.

Love: Jessica e.

Photos: for the moments words are not enough...

2008-05-21T08:56:00.000-07:00

.love this.

.Veggie Shopping {typical}.

The Kids: waiting for water...

DAY 1: Swimming Camp

.some of the girls.

"hello, sweet girl."

{the view from an} AUTO RICKSHAW

these kids smile like they mean it...

.Rhama and Abishek.

And their faces light up like sunshine...

2008-05-21T08:32:00.000-07:00

Brown eyes…teeth stark white against soft caramel skin…a small and skinny frame that is somehow capable of hours of hard work…and a smile that penetrates to my very core.

This sight has become one so dear to me. The sweet, innocent joy of the children I interact with has spoken volumes to me as I live out my days in India.

I have always loved kids. Perhaps it is because I am the middle child and had a baby sister to help look after from age 3 ½ on. Or maybe it is simply a personality trait God gave me for such a time as this.

Whatever the case may be, I find my love for children only growing as the days go on and I spend more time with the ones here. There are so many to meet, to teach, to play with, and to love. There are moments where I feel as though my heart might simply burst with the affection I have for them and the laughter they bring to me.

They are all so beautiful. Sometimes I sit quietly and just watch them and their silly antics. Most times I don’t understand what they say, but we have learned to play together and ignore the language barrier.

When I have the chance to take a break and watch the kids play cricket, marbles, or made up games it is sometimes easy to forget where I am. Sometimes I forget where they are growing up. At those moments where they play so carefree and happily, I can easily forget that some of these children are fatherless, homeless, or living a lifestyle more difficult than any I could imagine.

My American mindset can’t grasp being nine years old and helping to raise younger siblings in a house made of a tarp, while your mother cleans houses and your father spends all that she raises on drugs. I can’t comprehend being fourteen years old and having only one eye that functions because of malnutrition as a young child. When I see a small boy scrubbing floors in a house with his mother, I can’t imagine being ten years old and assisting in bringing home support for your family.

I have lived a blessed life. I don’t pretend to deserve it. These sights I see and people I meet make me realize exactly how lucky I have been to be raised by good parents in a solid environment.

But even though those situations are shocking to hear about and see, there is something even more surprising and unbelievable about these little people.

Their smile.

I wonder time and again…How do they smile when there is no daddy to pick them up and spin them around? Why are they full of such joy when their sweet mothers have been hardened by too much work or the death of a husband? Do they not know any different? I ask myself. However, I have decided that is an excuse we tell ourselves. It would be simple to ease my concern for their lifestyles and my guilt at my own by saying they are only able to smile because that is all they have known. It cannot be true. They are human and feel the same pain and discomfort I would if I were put in their shoes…yet they find joy in living.

As I go about my duties each day I wonder what being here is supposed to teach me. I have realized that there is much I will learn and it cannot be narrowed to one simple thing. But as I interact with kids in school and in summer activities, I find they are unknowingly teaching me more about life than I could ever learn within the walls of my school back home. And how do they do it? Quite simply…they find enjoyment in the little things…they appreciate the tiniest treats…they allow people and relationships to bring them joy and don’t rely on physical circumstances to determine their happiness…and above all, they share that smile with everyone around them.

I don’t know what all I will learn in the next several months I spend here…but even if there is nothing more, I will consider this journey more than life changing.

I have seen some of the worst living conditions in the world and heard about some of the most heartbreaking circumstances being lived out by mere children. And it is the children in those stories that I interact with and it is those same children that I watch express the joy of life.

Could there be anything more beautiful?

I have yet to see something…

♥Nebin

Even in India I can hear those crickets sing...

2008-05-08T09:24:00.000-07:00

There are times when I sit by myself at night, on the wall of our rooftop where the breeze brings a cool that only evening in Varanasi has to offer. The power goes out for about 10 hours each day and so there is only the moon to light up the picturesque image of the neighborhood I live in. I close my eyes in those moments…the moments of the day where it is somewhat quiet. It is so surreal that I could almost forget the busy chaos of the day I just finished. The sound of the crickets’ song fills the air and my mind travels quickly to the last words of my dad before I left:

“Write to me Nebin…Tell me what springtime sounds like in India.”

As I listen to that familiar sound, my mind again travels…only this time to the Pennsylvania nights where it was just 8-year-old-me and my dad sitting on the steps of the deck he built, beneath a star splattered sky, and he would say:

“Listen. Do you hear that? You can only hear that at this time of year. Shhh…Just listen.”

For thirty seconds I live in that memory, the dirt and sweat of the day meaning nothing…and then the train whistle sounds. Just like waking from a dream, I open my eyes and am reminded of where I sit. The events of my day come flooding in and again my mind begins to churn in futile attempts to understand and relate to my surroundings.

It is at times like those that I wish I was a poet…someone good with words. My mind swarms with thoughts and questions and I swim in a sea of frustration as I search for the best way to communicate them.

The days here go by quickly, as overall time seems to drag on into infinity.

New and exciting experiences are a dime a dozen, and yet I am at a loss for words.

Jess and I meet more people and with each new face, I realize how miniscule a being I am.

Every day I grasp one thing extra about Indian culture, and every day I find two new things to be confused about.

Please do not misunderstand…it has not been a discouraging week. In fact it has been quite the opposite as those who were mere acquaintances become friends and life continues to flow smoothly.

This week was our last week of teaching school until July. My class was excited to finish their schoolwork early in the day, have an “end of term snack”, and be on their way home to begin break two hours early.

The summer holiday has officially started and so begins our summer schedule. Jess and I will be just as busy as before, taking breaks only to beat the heat. I will be teaching individual piano and general music lessons and so far, have seven children signed up. Jess will be the main teacher in a summer swimming camp that will run for two weeks. I and another friend will assist in that exciting endeavor. English class will fill our Monday afternoons and a mixture of other widow’s home projects will plug into the empty time slots.

Truly it is an exciting time for us as we realize we have been helping out for almost two months and begin to look forward to the things ahead. There are still days where I feel overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted as the process of adapting continues. I still have moments where I can hardly portray what I see going on around and inside of me. Those are the times when I lack all words, yet I know that if I let one word slip, they would flow unending. In the midst of so much to sort through, I am continuing to learn not to compare my home to India, but to appreciate what each one has to offer. This past week was probably the first where I was able to look at Jess and say honestly that India is becoming “home”.

And so tonight, as I type this blog post and listen to the singing of the crickets, I am not weighed down by my experiences and neither do I flee to thoughts of a distant place. Tonight the sounds around me do not make me miss home. Rather that familiar buzz of the song of a cricket brings a smile to my face. I find I am so thankful for the fact that no matter how far I am from the home I am accustomed to, from friends, from family…I am still under the same night sky, looking at the same moon and stars, and hearing the same springtime sound... the sound of singing crickets.

With Love,
Nebin

Not so far away.....

2008-04-27T08:53:00.000-07:00

So what can I say.....words to describe the experiance that I have been experiancing....Well here in India, there doesn't come a day that isn't reflected. How am I doing here? What am doing here? What do they mean by that? How can I be more of a help? How can I grow? What am I learning? Sometimes I think, I think to much.

But the past week, while staying in a guest house for a language camp I was rewarded with a deeper understanding of India and just thinking of the past month spent here. India is hard to understand, there is alot going on. But being right next to the Ganga river during language camp, I feel like I have a better understanding of India and the religion here. See Varanasi is considered a holy city for Hindus and the Ganga river, is holy to them. I feel for me to really understand this land, I need to start by seeing how the people here see the world. Talking with foreigners that have been here around ten years, they said, "it seems like God let you know and see all that you can handle"......

As I am here back in our apartment , I realized that God is exposing different aspects of Indian life to me at the time that is right . So as my mind is always on a race to figure things out, I sit back and trust that I am here for a reason and God is in control of what I will see and do about what is observed.

SO thanks for everything,
Blessings and love
Jessica e.

C'est la vie...

2008-04-20T00:00:00.000-07:00

.Henna.

Learning how to cook Indian food.

Chairs saved for the bride and groom.

Jess, Anita, and Nebin

पतिएंस इस अ विर्तुरे...

2008-04-19T23:50:00.000-07:00

The water slowly trickles out of our spigot…warm. Inwardly I sigh, trying to be thankful that at least now we aren’t dealing with ice cold showers. There are times when I seek refuge from the scorching temperatures, but the moments I find a cool spot are few. That’s why the purchase of an Indian cooling system this week was such a blessing. I have never seen anything like it and it is certainly not comparable to an A.C. It is a combination of a large fan, water, straw and a hose. From what I can tell, it simply soaks the straw on the insides of the box and the fan proceeds to blow tiny droplets of that water into your room. Yes, it increases the humidity a bit but the difference it makes in temperature has been so wonderful to experience and Jess and I actually sleep a whole night through.

This week we not only had the upgrade of this air cooler but pest control came and our friends downstairs paid to have our room sprayed for bugs. The ants that would attack our food and soaps by the armies have seemed to disappear! Jess and I have been very thankful that the only price we had to pay for such a blessing was the rancid smell of the pest killer. And of course one other devastating circumstance…

The day that pest control came, Jess was at the ladies jail and I was the only one home. I was told to stay in our house while the man did his job, so I worked on preparing the next day’s school lesson and designing jewelry. The smell caused me to sneeze and feel as though I had a head cold but I figured it would be worth it. When he was finished I stood up to go downstairs and there, almost completely camouflaged on our marble floor, was Alfred {the pet gecko}. I jumped back a bit, scared I had nearly stepped on him and was about to leave when I realized he wasn’t moving. I put my hand in front of his face knowing that getting within a foot of him would typically make him run as fast as possible in the other direction. Still, he didn’t move. I crouched down on the floor beside him and looked in his little beady eyes. He looked so sad. “ALFRED!” I yelled in his face. Still nothing but an occasional body tremor. “Alfred you gotta pull through!” Jess coming around the corner heard me sniffling from the pest control and saw me sitting on the floor. She told me she thought I was crying. I informed her that I wasn’t but that we had a dire situation on our hands. She looked down and saw little Alf lying on the floor, struggling to move away from us. At least fifteen minutes I sat there looking at him…oddly sad that he looked near death. Jess splashed some water on him but to no avail. We decided to put him outside on the balcony and I carried him slowly to his final resting place…or so I thought. Later that evening we returned to his spot to find that a bird had carried him away.

And that was the end of Alfred the First. Thank goodness Alfred II, Alfred III, Alfred the IV, and V survived or I might have been a bit more upset at this sudden death.

I’m sorry to bring such negative and surely depressing news about the death of our little Alf, but no worries…I can lighten the mood by informing you that India is still sunny and the mangoes are still plentiful. Jess and I have enjoyed creating new ways to enjoy the fruits and vegetables of the land and are happy to be here. Saturday, our scheduled day off from school, was spent relaxing and enjoying our current home. We also had the opportunity to dress up in saris and attend an exciting and very interesting Indian wedding. What more could we ask for?

Well, I know one thing I would ask for is a small taste of my mom’s home cooked, American food. I might want to feel cold for just five minutes and a hug from my friends and family would be like the cherry on top. But if there is anything I am learning while on this trip, it is to be patient. My dad used to talk to me about delayed gratification. “No one knows what it is to wait for something good,” he would say. Little on up, I quietly listened to his words. Maybe I am beginning to understand what he meant for the first time in my life. And if not for the first time…I know it is definitely sinking in. So I have no complaints about where I’m at. In the moments where I am frustrated or missing home, I remind myself of my dad’s instruction and also of the words of a friend that I know will ring true when this is over…”It will be that much better in the end.” Until the day where I can look back and see how this trip has shaped me, I will enjoy the experience and continue to grow in appreciation for the people and culture of India.

Love Always,

Nebin

SMOOTHIES...lets light up the mood a bit.....

2008-04-15T05:23:00.000-07:00

There are small fruit and vegetable vendors lined up, men on bicycles peddling fiercely, random cattle in the road, a driving situation that seems like life or death but turns out to be just fine, and two foreigners walking down the road.

For me, going to the market, right outside of our house, on the road has been a great pleasure while living in India. Depending on what time of day you go, the selection of fruit and vegetables are divine. Let me take you on trip a through the fruit choices; tangerines, pomegranates, apples, mangos, watermelon, grapes, and so much more. Coming home from buying fruit or ful (the pronunciation in Hindi) is the best part of all because Nebin and I know what is to come, SMOOTHIES!!!! When we are faced with over 100+ degrees Fahrenheit in your room, a smoothie is what satisfies. We have come up with many smoothies concoctions, to get a little of protein, we added peanut butter, bananas, and milk. With the current success of making our own yogurt, we had a mango and yogurt smoothie.

So why are smoothies so important at this point of the trip? Well if I was to leave right now, I would be pretty disappointed because I feel like connection with people are just starting to get into swing but one thing I have confidence in India at this point is that you can’t beat the prices of fruit and vegetables. The refreshing taste of milk, ice, and fresh fruit on my pallet let me enjoy the heat and work that will continue to happen in this land.

Reflections on a busy week...

2008-04-09T06:29:00.000-07:00

“Lord, I know I don’t deserve it, but could you just silence those dogs???”

Our mornings begin with a comment from either Jess or I about the sounds outside our window as we slowly come out of a deep sleep. One morning in particular we noticed sounds that were extra interesting. Between the loudest squawk I have ever heard in my life and a train who’s horn insists on blowing for a full two minutes (getting progressively louder as it nears), there was no need for Jess’ small travel alarm.

7am we rise and shine. Sometimes “bright eyed and bushy tailed” and sometimes…not. We take turns using our only cold water shower, brush our teeth, eat some fruit, lock our doors, and walk to school.

8:20am is the time now. The sun blazes hot even at this early hour. Some mornings it is warmer than others and I have begun to predict which will be the unbearable days.

“Oh it’s nice and cool this morning.” I said as we walked to school on Friday…of course by this I meant it was barely above 90* and with a slight breeze, when usually it's borderline 100* with the air silent as a Pennsylvania July.

8:30am and we hear the bell ring. Run fast to your places kids and teachers. They say a short and very sweet prayer in their strong Indian accents and then open their eyes, smiling and ready to sing a song. Each morning is a different song and each one succeeds in making me feel five again as I participate with the students around me.

The day goes on from there. I teach a fourth grade class and Jess handles sixth. Our students are very bright and continually put a smile on my face. I have found myself wanting to be the best teacher I can for the two girls in my class and make things fun and interesting so they will continue to be excited about their education. On Friday I made up a quick and easy craft to do before the closing bell rang because the girls had done so well that week, giving us extra time.

Though school is the main activity of our days, our afternoons are filled with other various tasks. We work in the bakery of the widows home three days out of the week and have found that our help will be much appreciated. It was surprising to find out that they needed help with cake decorating. Immediately I piped up to say I had taken all three courses in cake decorating that are offered in the Wilton Cake Decorating Course. There were times I had wondered why I had chosen to do that at age fourteen. For such a time as this, perhaps? I will never know exactly, but for now I am thankful to have that ability in the bakery.

We also have gotten involved in designing and making jewelry for the craft shop in the downstairs storefront of the widows home. "Hope Arts" sells many things from handcrafted jewelry, beautiful cards, natural peanut butter, and other souvenirs for tourists or locals. Each of these items are made by the widows in the home and when sold, the money pays for the maintenance of the program. I find myself very excited that the areas where they need assistance are in mine and Jess' areas of interest.

“Aapka naam kya hai?” I find myself staring blankly at times when someone asks a question of Jess or I. Quickly they realize we don’t know Hindi very well and although I know that phrase means “What is your name?” and I have an answer, many other things leave me confused and very frustrated at my lack of an ability to communicate. And so our last activity during weekday afternoons is Hindi lessons. On Wednesdays and Fridays we are taught by a girl named Pinky. Sweet, beautiful, and with a sense of “up-to-date Indian fashion” that I don’t yet understand, she is a great teacher. She and I were both surprised to find we are the same age of only seventeen. I may have made a friend above the age of four!

Each activity we fill our days with is fun and exciting to learn. There has only been one so far that we have both wished would simply go away…being sick. They say it’s completely normal to become ill at the beginning and/or throughout a trip to an overseas country. I never would have thought a different kind of food would have been enough to cause our bodies to react so violently, but it did. Jess and I spent a good part of last Monday curled up on the bed with stomach cramps or back and forth from the bathroom. Later we would find out that it wasn’t a simple 24hr. virus but likely a bacterial infection/ameoba which we will be on medication for until almost April’s end. I am just thankful it has not left me bedridden, but in the midst of some slight discomfort, we have been able to keep up with this busy schedule!

At week’s end, Jess and I find ourselves mostly content and satisfied as we look back on the events of the past six or seven days. We spent our Friday evening lying on our small beds side-by-side asking each other what the funniest moments have been since in India. I found myself laughing hysterically as Jess re-hashed some of those times that had so quickly been lost in my overstuffed mind.

Each day I surprise myself as we go about this "normal" routine. NORMAL. What is normal? I find myself asking this question over and over in my head until I decide that it is useless to wonder. This is my life. For the next 8 months, India is my life. The thought is scary, strange, and exciting. And then I think, will I ever truly leave it in the dust as I move on in life? Will it ever really become a thing of the past? Jess and I are slowly beginning to realize that we are now connected to India in a way that will never leave us. To go back entirely might be impossible. I have my world, my one true home. America...it is my heart country. Yet now I know this world. This crowded, hurting, and still beautiful world of India.

I do not completely understand what is to be accomplished on this year-long journey. But I know if nothing else, one thing is certain. Jess and I will no longer be able to view the world with the same eyes. We are no longer perfectly American. However, we are definately not Indian. We are lost at a point in the middle. A "third-culture mind", so to speak. And in this "lost" state, I could not be more thankful for who we are becoming...for who we will become.

Love Always,

♥Nebin

Just some photos...

2008-04-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Alfred {the pet gecko}

Laundry Day!

typical sight on our walk to school.

kids @ the widows home.

sunset from our rooftop.

beautiful jess on the BIG 21!

one of many beautiful flowers {ganges in background}

.The Ganges.

Smiling Faces Next to the Ones with Dim Eyes

2008-04-01T05:29:00.000-07:00

What can be said about someone’s past? Often times, people may seem like they are doing fine, they have three meals a day and a bed to rest their head. But here at the widow’s home, it seems like the women’s past is shown through their dim eyes. Being here less than a week I have not been able to connect deeply with the widows, but contrast to the smiling faces of the children that run around, they have dim eyes. How can people’s past be wash away that they can see the world as the children see it? When a smile brings up tons of giggles? When a playground is a full on jungle? When a classroom is a whole new country? There are some widows that haven’t been taught something that someone else would find so basic such as cooking, cleaning, and or cutting paper in a straight line. The goal at the widow’s home is to help the women gain a skill so they may have dignity and have self worth. Many of the children at the school have been here since they were small; you can see how much learning has changed their self confidence and outlook on life already. Some of the children now have a chance to go college or teach their own children three different kinds of languages. So what can be said about someone past? It shapes their outlook on life, it makes their faces become dim or bright as the sun. But through learning and being shown love, I am praying that the women of the widow’s home eyes will be as shining as the sun and have no traces of dim eyes anywhere on their faces.

Incredible India...

2008-03-22T09:58:00.000-07:00

Sights, sounds, smells...everywhere you look there is something new to see, to do, to experience.

We arrived at the airport in Dehli shortly after midnight on March 19th. We were each thankful for an almost uneventful trip. Minus a short encounter with a customs agent, our journey was exciting and without stress. We have found India to be a beautiful country. I am continually struck by the numbers of people, the driving conditions, the vibrant colors, and other interesting things. Certainly though, we are no longer in the United States. In Pennsylvania you typically would not see a 6 member family on one small motor bike. Generally you would not run into a tiny green gecko on your bedroom wall. And as far as I know, Americans do not allow cows to roam the streets freely. Different from home? Most definately. Indescribably incredible. Absolutely. But let me try...

Our first day we were thankful for the opportunity to sleep in a bit. After refreshing ourselves we jumped into some cultural discussions with our host and later a shopping trip to buy new Indian "suits". These outfits consist of long baggy pants that I compare to pajamas and a knee length lose shirt. To complete the look, you wrap a scarf around your shoulders and voila! The materials to choose from are vibrant and colorful, and we eagerly chose two kinds to have stiched. Tired and content we fell into bed that night only to wake up a few hours later. Clearly it would take some adjustment time.

Despite the short rest we rose the next morning ready to face the big city of Dehli! We saw India Gate {the photo above}, browsed a large market and later a bazaar, tried Indian McDonalds, and took in the sights of what they call "Incredible India." And incredible it was!

However, I feel it important to describe the feelings that came underneath this tourist type day in Dehli. As we walked from place to place there were countless merchants that persistently followed and grabbed people in an attempt to sell a few cents worth of their goods. Beggars sat on most corners, many having an infant on the ground by their side. I was at a loss for words or actions when a boy no older than six grabbed my hand and pleaded for some change. A beautiful country and just below the surface, if one takes only a second glance, is the pain of poverty and years of suffering.

I find that as we slowly begin to adjust

and come to a slightly better understanding of this culture, Jess and I are met with calm emotions and joy to be in this amazing land. Each day brings a new twist and story and we look forward to them like a child does Christmas! I have begun to see the wealth of the people of India in some of their values that seem to have been lost in our own great nation.

I find myself a student of culture. And I am here to learn.

♥Nebin