I can’t remember if it was the sweat or the noise that woke me up first.
After flying into Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, my team then took a 12-hour, 4-bus journey to our little village. It was late at night when we arrived, so we hauled our packs to the roof of the little chapel, set up our tents, and drifted to sleep. It was a beautiful and breezy night. I slept so deeply, recovering from our long travel days.
Morning came. I remember laying there, feeling the drops of sweat trickling down my nose as the sun poured stifling heat into my tent. I also heard whisperings close by, little feet shuffling, hushed laughter. So I rolled over, squinting up into the light. Five little Indian boys were staring down at me, through the mesh of my tent.
…Can I help you?
I managed to croak out a “Hello?” still shielding my eyes from the blinding sun. The boys burst into giggles and waves, delighted I had said something they understood. “Hello!!”
A few minutes of silence followed. We gazed at each other – them still grinning, me trying to recover from this interference of my morning, wondering how long they had been standing there, and wondering what to do now. I don’t have the greatest attitude after just waking up. I looked at my watch: 6:30. Great. I decided to just forget them, so I moodily rolled back over, ignoring the scorching sun, and attempted to get some more precious sleep.
I jerked awake about 20 minutes later at the sound of someone running their hands all over the side of my tent. I sat up, ready to firmly establish some boundaries with these boys. Instead I find myself looking up into the face of an old woman. Clearly annoyed, she gestured for me to unzip the door.
Respect the culture, respect the culture, respect the culture…
I complied, and was handed a tiny cup of delicious chai. She then stood up and tottered over to serve my teammates.
My chai was still too hot to sip, so I stared down into the cup for a few minutes, wishing I knew how to say “thank you” in Telogu.
Even though this culture has definitely taken some getting used to, we are truly having the time of our lives here. Yes, we are always being stared at… yes, there is very little personal space. But right away we were met with a generosity and kindness that has been overwhelming. Our role this month is so different than in Africa. There, we worked as hard as we could to help in ministry. Here, we are constantly told “put that down” or “don’t carry those” or “please, sister, I will do that.” It’s very humbling to be served so much, when we were coming here expecting to serve.
Our ministry is “village ministry/church planting.” Every afternoon, we all pile into the car with two pastors, a pastor’s wife, a worship leader, our translator, and her husband. Each of the pastors leads several villages in the area. So we drive to one – a new village almost every day – and help lead a church service for whoever lives there. We are truly in the middle of nowhere, and are often the first white people these villagers have ever seen. People will come just because they hear there are Americans in town. As a result, we’ve gotten to tell stories about Jesus to people who’ve never even heard His name.
One of the most wonderful things about this month is this couple:
Mounibab is our translator. She and her husband have worked with a few World Race teams before (one of the teams gave Babland the nickname “Studmuffin” – the nickname has stuck for us, too). They live with us, eat with us, travel every day with us. Mounibab is only 20 years old, but that’s easy to forget as she confidently stands in crowded rooms full of strangers to be our voice. As the only one of our merry crew that speaks both English and Telogu, she bears the brunt of many of our awkward or confusing moments. Not only has she been a wonderful leader, but she has quickly become our dear friend.
We had no idea we’d get to experience life in rural India, meeting people that normal travelers would have no cause to interact with. We’re in awe every day at what we get to see and do.
Please don’t remind me that we’re leaving in only 2 weeks…
Mounibab and I – photo credit to Doug
Funding Update: I have a financial deadline coming up on April 1st, and I’m about $700 away. Please spread the word, share this blog, and pray with me as that time approaches. Thank you!
