It started in Kathmandu. We landed, felt an actual windchill for the first time in weeks, and carried our gear through a crowded street, then up four steep flights of stairs. The beginning of month five meant a lot of things: debrief, team changes, and new squad leaders.
This debrief was nothing like the first one. We were right in the middle of a city – the backpacker district no less – and could explore to our heart’s content. When I wasn’t at a squad session, I was wandering the markets, trying new foods, and taking advantage of the somewhat-reliable wifi that we hadn’t had for three months.
On top of all of this, our squad mentor, Travis, informed us that this debrief was not to be as inwardly focused as World Race debriefs tend to me We were to use this time to practice living a missional life even on our time off. This was how I ended up causing a scene in the streets of Kathmandu with two of my squadmates, playing worship music and preaching the gospel from the sidewalk – read about this eventful day here.
Soon after, my new team and I, plus one other team, were headed to Urlabari. We somehow managed to fit twelve people and all of our gear into two jeeps and spent an overnight ride packed in like sardines. Finally, at the crack of dawn we arrived at our home for the first half of the month: a two-story house in the middle of a rice field in the middle of what seemed like absolutely nowhere.
While getting situated and wondering exactly what we would be doing this month, we discovered that we had a dozen housemates: a semi-professional soccer team in town for a tournament. Our host, Reuben, coached this team as a way to minister to these young men, mostly our age, and we spent the first week going to the final three playoff games of the tournament. Other days we mixed concrete on the roof of the house, starting the framework for an eventual third floor. We also spent an afternoon harvesting rice and another visiting a Bhutanese refugee camp after meeting two local missionaries, Tak and Mon.
Now, none of this was on our setup sheet, and we never knew what we were going to be doing on a given day until that morning, but this was another application of what we had been encouraged to do at debrief: live a missional life. In America it’s distasteful to talk about religion, but it didn’t take long to get to this topic with the soccer players, most of whom were Buddhist or Hindu. Even on the World Race, “ministry” isn’t always handed to you. You have to find the opportunities yourself.
Halfway through the month, we went back to Kathmandu, this time to work alongside Reuben’s church in the city. We spent Sundays at the church, sharing music and testimonies, and weekdays also at the church, making cinderblocks to be used to build a Sunday School wing. We were also able to visit the Nepali headquarters of Bibles for the World, and pick up copies of the Gospel of John to distribute as we saw fit.
Now I loved Kathmandu – of all of the cities I’ve been to, it’s definitely one of my favorites. But this wasn’t an easy month. Some of my most difficult days on the Race took place in Nepal.
At the final game of the soccer tournament of Urlabari, I had an anxiety attack of epic proportions, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. This game was intense, and as thousands of people crowded around of started to get angry that the home team wasn’t winning, I was sure that I was about to be trampled in a soccer riot. I couldn’t get away – as I started to feel the symptoms of an attack coming on, I tried to get out of the crowd only to be pursued by a man who insisted on taking my picture no matter how strongly I objected. My poor team leader found me hanging onto the fence at the edge of the field, barely able to hold it together. It was terrifying, but thankfully nothing like that ever happened again. Battling anxiety on the Race was a long, exhausting fight, but thankfully it got much better soon after this incident. (And I haven’t had a full-fledged anxiety attack since the beginning of month seven on the Race – I’ve been going strong for eight months now).
On another afternoon in Urlabari, my teammates and I were waiting for a bus when we had our first up close encounter with homeless children on the street. The first was a young girl, carrying an unresponsive baby who I expected was drugged or sedated. She asked us for money (which we had been instructed not to give) and rejected our offer of water. Most of these kids are hopelessly addicted to drugs, starving away to nothing because food takes away the high. The second was a thirteen year-old boy named Vijay. He pestered us for money, all the while huffing paint fumes from a plastic bag. We happened to find someone who could translate and spent a little bit of time talking to him, eventually convincing him to throw away the plastic bag. But for all I know, he picked it up again as soon as we left. We never saw him again.
I’ve been to Hell and it’s the slum village of Kathmandu. While this may seem like an exaggeration, and it is, I can’t really think of a way to describe the depravity I witnessed during my few hours there. Nepali bibles in hand, we went there to give them out and hopefully witness to people while we were there. The second we entered this tent city, we were immediately swarmed by children begging for money. On top of this, I had to be constantly on guard to keep these kids at an appropriate distance as they grabbed at my chest, my butt, and other places. I had learned at my training that children who engaged in inappropriate touching had more than likely been sexually abused themselves. The ideals of the caste system run rampant here, as a clear line is drawn in the sand between the children who attend school and those who don’t – I saw more than one physically assault another. We continued to move through the village, trying to find people who would actually read the copy of the gospel we were giving out. With the help of our translator, I prayed for a man in severe pain, but my offer to give them the gospel of John was refused – no one in the family could read. Later I had another strange experience when I made eye contact with a woman passing by. As our eyes met, I immediately felt as if I had been electrocuted, with a shock wave coursing through my whole body. Although I was still in the beginning stages of learning about spiritual warfare at the time, in that moment I was sure that there was some demonic activity going on there. I was determined to find this woman again, but my effort was futile.
Towards the end of our time in the slum we were able to sit and talk with a family who had been displaced by the the earthquake. They were happy to spend time with us and were perhaps the only recipients of the gospel that day, but at least our difficult day ended on a good note.
Nepal needs truth. It needs light. It needs Jesus so badly – as these people in horrible situations pray to created gods who can’t do anything for them. But there is hope.
“…this is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.” -1 John 5
