I’m sure you’ve heard about the slums of India, very rough and poverty stricken areas where people live. Houses made of sticks or feed sacks. Meals cooked over fires outside. No restrooms, tables as beds and dirt floors. This is something I have recently experienced firsthand through two of my dearest friends here in India. Let me tell you a bit about them, their lives and how they have greatly impacted mine.
Barathi. The first local friend I made-
Makennah, Rachel and I went to go eat dinner at Mary’s house tonight… or so we thought. Mary is our dear friend/ sister who cooks for us at our home here in India. We have a very special bond, so she invited the 3 of us to her place to eat with her family! As we drove up to the village, all we saw were shacks. Tin little things lined with sticks and covered over by feed sacks, the houses of those that live there, including Mary. It was a hard sight to see. We arrived to Mary’s house and she wasn’t home, so we went on to the home of another cook (who we haven’t seen in a few weeks), Barathi.
We were thrilled to be reunited with her! She welcomed us into her home with a big a hug and of course, chai. I spilled the chai on my leg and may or may not have some second degree burns… hah when in India! Anyways, her house was half the size of my bedroom at home. It had a small tv, a twin bed, a fridge, a shelf for appliances and a very tiny kitchen stove. Outside the house, on a porch covered by sticks and big leaves, was another bed and more shelves that contained their clothing. A family of 5 lives here. I looked around with tears welling up in my eyes as Barathi joyously gave us snacks and more hugs. This was by far the most poverty I have yet to witness in India, and I was experiencing it as this kind friend of mine served me some dinner, chapati and potato curry. I almost didn’t want to eat it but she was so happy to feed us, I just had to finish it all. After eating and meeting her family, Rachel and Kenna had a wonderful idea! They wanted us to wash her feet. I excitedly agreed! In the bible, John 13:1-17, a story is told of Jesus washing the feet of His disciple, Peter. Peter started to refuse, feeling unworthy of such a humbling act. He felt as if He were too dirty for the Lord, that Jesus was too good to be washing the feet of a sinner. Jesus insisted and began to wash Peter’s feet. This is such a great example of His love for us and how He sees us as worthy and beautiful. We saw Barathi as worthy and beautiful, therefore we wanted to serve her as she served us. Rachel knelt down at her feet, explaining this story to her and Barathi uncomfortably laughed and told our translator that we shouldn’t touch her feet because she hadn’t bathed yet. We insisted and after some fussing, she lifted her feet for Rachel.
Feet in India are seen as unholy and gross, so this was a huge honor that she’d allow us to touch them. Once her feet were washed with water, it was my turn to dry them! I decided to dry them with the scarf around my neck, just as Jesus dried Peter’s with the cloth around His waist. Barathi grabbed my hand and kissed it, saying “Wandenalu”, praise the Lord in Telugu. Then Makennah went on to put oil on her feet, oil is seen as holy and good. When we were done I could see tears in Barathi’s eyes. She told our translator she was grateful, but sad because she doesn’t deserve to be served by white Americans who are in a higher class than her. She said she was embarrassed that we had to see her dirty feet and that since we are wealthier than her, she should be the one on her knees cleaning us. Immediately I couldn’t help but cry. This really truly broke my heart. I don’t have words to explain how this made me feel, how this opened my eyes to the hurt in our world. THIS is poverty. It’s not only a shack that Barathi lives in, a lack or physical needs, but it is also emotional. Poverty is a mindset, too. It is how she perceives the world, how she and so many others view us. She thinks that I am above her because I’m American, that I deserve more than her because of where I grew up, that I am holy because of my skin color. I looked her in the eyes, wrapped my arms around her and just hugged her for awhile as I had no words for the pain I clearly heard and felt in her. The three of us began to explain that race, class and upbringing do NOT determine how valued we are in God’s eyes. God does not see our differences, He does not love either of us more than the other because of our money, our ethnicity does not affect His love for us and our cultures don’t define our worth. She told our translator, Sweety, that she understood. Although she may have felt uncomfortable at first, she was grateful for our visit and the love she received from us.
It was a humbling, heart-warming and heart-breaking night. A night I will never forget. I felt the heaviness of poverty and the joy that comes from loving and serving others. I felt grief, I felt pain and pure happiness all at the same time. I am extremely grateful for how my eyes were opened in a new way, and I pray that Barathi’s were, too. I hope that she felt God’s love through us tonight, that she would no longer feel dirty because of her social status and that she’d feel validated by the Lord’s love. She is worthy.
Now let me tell you about Mary, a beautiful lady who I have learned SO MUCH from-
Loved. That’s how I feel when I am with Mary. My akka (big sister in Telugu), my best friend and Indian momma. Mary lives in the slums just a few houses down from Barathi. She basically lives in a shed with her husband and three sweet babies. She calls me and my teammate, Kenna, her babies, too. Though Mary speaks little to no english, her actions clearly communicate her feelings. She has shown me the most love I think I have ever experienced in another country, through a culture vastly different than my own. I adore her. My soul comes alive when we dance and spin together, when we laugh at my mispronunciation of words she tries to teach me, when we get into tickle fights, when we hold hands, when she teaches me to cook and make chai or when we simply just smile and stare at each other.
For these reasons, and many more, I am giving her my key that I received at the beginning of the race. My “loved” key that I have come to fully embrace and understand the meaning of while being in India. Someone who loves me well and exudes Jesus deserves to wear this next, and that’s Mary. I am so aware of how loved I am by the Lord, and have felt this love immensely through her. His love is extravagant, overwhelming and unthinkable. It doesn’t always make sense, like how Mary lives in the slums but radiates joy, only heaven knows how she keeps her faith. It is hard to comprehend and easy to feel inspired by. She is sunshine. She loves like He loves. She has helped me understand how loved and known I am, without even using words. This key now belongs to her. She is worthy.
Thank you so much for reading, this was hard to write as seeing how they live compared to how they love laid very heavy on my heart. I am preparing to say bye to these wonderful sisters of mine in just 10 short days, and it is definitely not going to be easy. I am so grateful for them and the many other people and experiences that have made my time here in India so memorable and amazing!
