Yesterday was the beginning of Chhaka here in Nepal. Chhaka is the sun festival where the sun is worshiped as sunrise and sunset and the thought is that if you worship you will get everything you want by the end of the sun festival. Part of this is people prostrating themselves at the river and taking a dip.
Our pastor Filip wanted us to see this and so we headed out last evening slightly before dusk. It as a bit of a slow process as first we were delayed getting out the door by tea (got to love chai or in my case learn to love chai). We then had our 3 new squad leaders who were visiting returning from the internet and so we stopped to wait for them. We actually were debating about waiting or going and finally decided to walk back to connect. We finally connected and then 3 different people decided to run to the bridge to see the festivities to get their workout in while the rest of us walked. Why is this all important. Well, eventually, Lauren a squad leader, Emily and I continued on our walk. As we were walking along the dirt path we passed a house as a child came out the door screaming. We were slightly past the house, but I turned and watch the mother come out of the house and pick up a rock the size of a softball and proceed to throw it at her child. By God's grace she missed, but she went and grabbed the child and dragged her back behind the house by her hair. I was frozen. I didn't know the situation, I don't speak the language, I don't know the culture and yet I couldn't continue walking. I slowly walked behind the house to find the woman with her daughter cowering in front of her holding a 2" round bamboo stick that was probably 4' long. I honestly wanted to vomit. In my kindest English I begged the woman not to beat her child. She initially did not hear me, but finally turned and stopped. I couldn't communicate well, but thanked her as best I could. I returned with Lauren and Emily to the front of the home where the child was standing. The mother remained behind the home.
I didn't know how to proceed. Do I stay until the mother cools down? The problem is that being white in Nepal means that anywhere I stop for more than about 30 seconds means I draw a crowd which I didn't want to bring into the situation. Do I continue? Will the mother be more angry at being interupted or possibly shamed? After a bit of deliberation I continued on praying that God would protect the little girl. Less than 100 meters down the road I heard the sound of the stick hitting flesh and the cry of the little girl. She stopped after 2 times and I stood praying that God would intervene as I didn't exactly trust myself to return to the house.
In tears, we continued down the road trying to decide the best thing.
We eventually abandoned going to the festival as it had grown darker and we had missed sunset in our delay. As we turned around, we had to walk back by the house. As we did, I was the little girl tied to a pole inside the home. What could I do?
I honestly wanted to go inside, untie the girl and take her back to the church with me. You have to understand. I love kids. I miss the players I coached last year and think of them regularly. I miss being in the classroom and the class I had at the middle school last year. It is so easy in some ways in the U.S. I can call social services or the police. I can communicate with the person and yet I was stuck in India feeling ridiculously helpless. I can't "kidnap" a Nepali child even though the thought did cross my mind.
We eventually decided to return to the church to wait for the pastor to return from the festival and then ask for him to return with us. When he arrived home, we walked back and knocked on the house door. The mother answered and the pastor spoke with her. He translated very little, but the gyst of what I got was that she was "disciplining" her daughter for some things people in the community had accused her of and that she had some sort of mental disability.
We asked to pray for you and we were able to enter the home. My heart broke as the little girl flinched as we reached out to touch her hand to pray for her. My greatest prayer is that in that moment she would know what love is and that she is loved by both a heavenly Father as well as some crazy white people. I was also able to pray for the mother. My heart broke as I left knowing that the little girl would remain in the situation.
We later learned the mother doesn't feed the daughter because she has a disability. Because of this, she begs the neighbors for food or steals what is often outside being offered as sacrifices during the festival times. The neighbors have approached the mother telling her she needs to feed her daughter. Because she is ashamed, she beats the child. It is a vicious cycle.
I arrived home last night feeling like my chest had been ripped wide open. That little girl is in an awful situation and I desire to have hope for her and in God. How, what can I hope in? I will leave this village on Sunday and that little girl will remain in her house. I spent an hour or two in Psalms just thankful that God is just and righteous. He says his love is never failing to all he has created. He loves that little girl more than I ever can. My prayer is that for 15 minutes last night, she felt loved. My prayer is that for 15 minutes last night, that mother also felt loved while prodded to see her daughter as the beautiful person she is deserving of love and not anger and punishment. I don't know what will happen, but I know God put us at that door for a purpose, too many factors put us at that house at that exact time.
Talk about a moment of perspective after feeling a bit sorry for myself. I'd give my ipod, hard drive, computer, camera, laptop and the rest of my pack for that little girl to never face another beating. There is so much more evil and more challenging things in this world than me losing a few material possessions and yet the God of the universe wishes to intervene in my life to cause me to think and in that family's life to prayerfully experience a bit of his love.
