News from Orissa, India

Things are going well here. The 12 children here are all so sweet. They are also little (between 4 and around 10). Yulia and I are trying so hard to learn their names, but they are very difficult for our brains to wrap around. Only the short names we can get – like Kuna. I would tell you some of the other names, but I can’t remember them!

Two days ago we came by plane rather than train which is the normal mode of transportation. The train takes 1 ½ days and the plane took 2 ½ hours, then we traveled 5 hrs by car to get to our village.

I ate a croissant on the plane – it was filled with some spicy stuff and I spent the first day here sick. Our hosts are amazing. They are a family (one of the sons runs the other orphanage we went to). The mother died 2 years ago, the father (Abraham) is here with his eldest daughter and her young son.

Currently there is a son here on holiday from university where he’s learning Spanish. The father also has a daughter here who is getting ready to go to Delhi (India’s capital) to work with prostitutes. They’re a good family. The father pastors a church and cares for these children in his home. My hosts in Delhi, Stan and Lana, are working with them and helping them build a second level on their home so the children can live up there (www.JesusWayOnline.com). Yulia and I are very excited to be here for two reasons – No. 1 – it rains here every day – that means we can use water! We can flush the toilet, we can take a “shower” (bucket bath) – still we only use one bucket of water for the bath, but we don’t feel guilty using up their water.

This morning I woke at 6:00 and heard the children outside – I think they must have been taking a bath in the courtyard – maybe they did in the shower, but it was so noisy I think they were right outside our door. There were buckets of water sloshing and little slapping footsteps and giggling. It was very cute. They probably did it boys and girls separately.

They are so very careful about that in India. I’m glad I came into church with a woman because I might have sat on the wrong side of the church. The women and girls were all on the left side of the church and the men and boys were on the right. Another thing I noticed was the women were SO covered up – no distraction for the men there – not only were they not sitting near each other, you can’t see anything but brightly coloured wrapped-up-packages of women. When they sit on the floor, they immediately wrapped their long scarf around their back from their shoulders to their feet. A girl with beautiful thick black hair sat in front of me and I was thinking, “Wow, what beautiful hair she has!” and before I could finish my thought, she had whipped a scarf over the top of it!

Me with Children in OrissaThe children had learned a song in an African dialect (not Swahili) and they performed it for us. I was taking a video, and while I took it, a man came over and said something to me very seriously. I am certain he was speaking English, but I couldn’t understand a word he said. From the way he was pointing I think he was telling me that I wasn’t catching two of the cute little girls, so I moved to an angle where I could get all of the children.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, to my horror, I noticed I was sitting on the men’s side of the church. I don’t know how strict this men/women rule is, but I hope I didn’t offend anyone. (I seem to remember from last time I was here, they sit on buses the same way – men on the right, women on the left.)

When we were walking through the village to the church, I noticed Abraham’s daughter (who speaks English very well) had a scarf over her head and was walking with her head covered.

“Oh, should we have brought something to cover our heads?” I asked, concerned.

“Oh, no.” she said nonchalantly, proceeding to say that if a woman happened to speak in church without her head covered that her mother wouldn’t listen to a word the woman said because she would be wondering why her head wasn't covered. It seemed, however, that we were received well, the people were very welcoming, so I guess our lack of head cover was okay. (We were the only two women without scarves on our heads.)

So, today is Monday, the children left for school and we are going to the market to buy supplies for lessons. It should be an interesting day. In Delhi we were able to wear western clothes. (Okay, I was able to wear western clothes – all the Russians with me are wearing Indian clothes, they are just not my style.) Since we are in the village I've been told it is important for us to wear Indian clothes, otherwise we will offend people.

It was difficult for me to find them because I am very big for Indian clothes. We were told in Delhi if your shirt doesn’t come down almost to your knees it is considered that your underwear is showing. This is a whole big mind shift. When I was trying on clothes most things hung down like hospital gowns. Most shopping in India is done in tiny little kiosk type shops, but we had to go to a mall in Delhi to find something that would fit me. Indian pants are so funny – they are so big at the top you could fit three people into them. I don’t understand why they are made like that. You have to pull and pull and pull on a drawstring to make them fit. They are very baggy at the top, and your long shirt hangs down over the baggy part.

Last night I taught my first lesson. It was very interesting to teach these children. They come from very small villages and are not used to sitting still. They are learning all the basics at once - from sitting still, taking turns as well as three languages. They do not speak Hindi (the main, common language of India) and of course not English. They speak something I think is called “Ori” or “Oria”.

The father here came in and said there was a pastor from a village here. He asked if we wanted to spend the night in the village. I said yes, his daughter looked a little uncertain. She said, " it is very primitive, there are no toilets, no electricity, no water." I still wanted to go, but then our interpreter in Delhi called me to see how we were doing. I just mentioned we were going to spend the night in the village and she said, "Oh, Nicola, you can visit, but don't spend the night, it's too dangerous still there - especially since you are foreigners." I am adding this paragraph to my email at the internet cafe. I know I don't look Indian, but I thought since I have dark hair people wouldn't take any notice of me, but they stare at me just as much as people do in Russia, except they stop, jab their neighbour with their elbow and they stop and gawk. It's funny. Apparently not many foreigners visit here. Less in the villages we will visit. I must say I'm a bit disappointed. I really wanted to spend the night, but feel it's wise not to.

Oh, this is too funny, I have to write this! I'm in what theyy call a "cyber cafe" (I will have to tpe fast, and the "y" sometimes works and sometimes doesn't - the power might go out, and I can't risk losing this email, so sorr about the missing y's (or two y's)) So, the whole time I've been tyyping, people have been standing behind watching, then they leave and more people come. Just now a very beautiful Indian girl in a bright outfit said, "Excuse me? Excuse me? What country are you from?"

"America." she smiled like a Cheshire cat. "America? How is America?" "Fine." I said. "And how do you find our village?" she asked. "I find it very well. I love the people, you are all so beautiful." another beautiful smile. "You are beautiful also, I have loved looking at your hair." she said. "and What is your good name?" she asked.

"My what name?" I asked, leaning forward.

"your good name."

a man behind me who had been working at a desk leaned toward me and said in English, while wobbling his head from side to side (it is a sign of agreeing with someone - or being friendly) " 'Your good name' - it's a way of saying 'your name'."

"Oh. My name is Nicola." She loved my name. And so went our conversation until her curiosity had been satisfied, then she said, "Okay, then I will go. Have a good lunch."

"Thank you! You too!" I said and turned back to my email.

It was the first time I have a chat with someone while I was typing at an internet cafe. I thought you might enjoy that, I thought it was funny.