Abby leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Let’s pretend tomorrow is your birthday.”
It had been a few intense days of ministry in a row, and I knew Abby was craving some fun. It was 11pm – we always get back late at night – and our team was circled together on the roof of the chapel, spending a few minutes debriefing the day and giving each other feedback. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull off a prank like the one Abby was suggesting – but if anyone could, it’d be her.
“Go for it,” I whispered back.
Abby sat up, grinning, and cleared her throat. “And, of course, let’s not forget it’s our little Larisa’s birthday tomorrow!”
Cut to the next morning at breakfast. At some point in the conversation, Stephanie remembered the big news and exclaimed, “Oh yea – Larisa, happy birthday!!” Abby laughed and echoed the congratulations gleefully. Mounibab and Babland, who also eat their meals with us, turned to me and were very excited. I tried to deflect by asking when their birthdays were, and it was at this point we discover that while Mounibab’s birthday is in May, Babland has no birthday. We didn’t get to the bottom of why that’s the case, but since he never gets a celebration, we resolved as a team to give him a birthday before we leave.
It isn’t until later that morning, when I’m ambushed by the first group of kids, that Abby and I realize there might be a problem.
Let me take a moment to describe our village for you. First, there’s the church building. We live on the roof in our tents, and about 10 under-privileged boys who are under the pastor’s care live on the first floor. Across the way are a few connected homes that house families that we’ve gotten to know over the past few weeks. If you were to take the path behind the church, the one that goes through the field, you’d soon come upon a few more homes and families that make up our little community.
It soon became apparent that Cody and Dave had told the boys about my birthday, the boys told the other kids, the other kids told their mothers and their mothers told… everybody.
I was sitting up on the roof by myself when they found me. I heard a chorus of little “Hello!”s and before I knew what was happening, the kids handed me a little origami frog and tried to start singing happy birthday.
“Abby, we have got to stop this…”
We quickly gathered our teammates and came clean about the joke, hoping the events of the day would end there. The team also made the tough decision to not break it to the Indians – we didn’t know if they’d feel offended somehow that we’d deceived them. I was mortified. “You mean I have to keep accepting gifts and congratulations all day?! It’s hard enough accepting the honor culture here, letting them treat us with such special attention, and now I have to graciously receive more? We ended by deciding that perhaps we can redeem the situation by celebrating Babland’s birthday too…
However, I’m soon found by another group of boys, who hand me this:
Boys, you’re too kind… But actually.
I found myself an hour later standing in front of a birthday cake, the kids, and half the village adults, trying to make my grimace pass as a smile of gratitude.They instructed Doug to get his camera, so he stood there, dutifully recording the event. At least Babland was giddy with happiness when we told him we wanted to celebrate him today, too.
Apparently, if you’re an Indian and it’s your birthday, you cut the cake. Babland handed me the knife but I insisted on sharing, so I found myself cutting the cake with him. He then selected a piece between his fingers and lifted it to my face to feed it to me. I turned to Mounibab, confused, but she just smiled and urged me on, telling me to return the gesture. So I fed him a piece of cake as well. Awesome. So I’ve deceived an entire Indian village, and I’ve practically married Mounibab’s husband. I spend the rest of the party avoiding eye contact with my team, feeling sick to my stomach that these innocent people are being so wonderful me, and telling Babland happy birthday so he can practice his new English phrase, “Same to you!”
It was all smoothed over until a few days later, when Mounibab was teaching me more ways to introduce myself in Telogu. I was repeating the phrase I’d learned at the beginning of the month:
“Naku iravayrendu savatsaremlu…” (I am 22 years old.)
Babland taps me on the shoulder. “No no! Birthday! 23!”
Ah yes. Thank you for remembering, Babland.
Funding update: I am a week away from my next deadline. Unfortunately, if I don’t make this deadline, I won’t be able to continue the rest of my World Race. I still need about $700 — please pray and spread the word!
