Day 1 - Finally.

March 20th, 2009 by megan

Day 1 - March 3, 2009

Mattampally, Andhra Pradesh, India

After 36+ hours of travel time, including a 5 hour delay in Dubai and 2 hours of sleep in an overpriced, undersized motel, Father George and Wilfred cheerfully greeted me and we began our journey to Mattampally.

At this point, exhaustion had not yet set in, and I sat wide-eyed and eager in the back seat for the first part of our 4.5 hour journey from Hyderabad. I quickly realized, that although India seemed strangely familiar and oddly comfortable, the sheer contrast was enough to keep me entertained and excited. If you’ve never been to India, it may be hard to comprehend the visual and aural experience of driving through your average Indian city. But, I can try. The first thing you’d notice, of course, is the heat. But the intense heat is the last thing on your mind once you hit the streets.

Your mind and eyes dart back and forth from the ever-so-visible Indian culture and what feels like an ongoing game of chicken in front of your small vehicle. (Set to the tune of a hundred car horns and the occasional scream of bus brakes.) To the left: Shacks in gray and dusty white. Small children running in dust-colored clothing along-side mothers in brilliantly-colored saris. To the right: Family of 5 on a small scooter. To the left: Road-side cart selling luscious looking bananas. To the right: Mangy dog rests in a pile of trash. Again the the left: Drawn to another beautiful sari, a near-accident with a passing car, or simply a rag-seller looking in the window.  If the picture you are getting is beautiful, desperate and absolute mayhem, you got it. (One thing that always surprises me about India is the lack of privacy for the average Indian. I don’t know if its the heat, the over-population, poverty or what, but everything is visible to the passerby: from the morning bowel movement to the leprous wound, nothing goes unseen. ) Needless to say, self-inflicted whiplash and mental exhaustion are eminent.

Inside the car, the air-conditioning was cool and the conversation (though broken by my wandering eyes) was good. We discussed Hearts’ Cry, the Jeevana Jyothi Charitable Trust (Indian partner) and the basics of the programs that Wilfred and Father George administer; as well as Catholicism in India (450 years old), and the average marrying age for women in the village (15-17 years old). Father George and Wilfred, my gracious hosts, were warm, welcoming and eager to share their hard work and many successes with me. I listened, and asked a number of silly questions until, (despite the frequent brake-slamming and pot-hole hitting) I passed out.

Welcome, Madam.

I was quickly awoken with, “Megan, we’re here,” and looked out through the darkness of the village night to see the 200+ smiling faces in the picture above. I stepped out of the car while rubbing my eyes, and was welcomed with garlands of bright orange flowers and the rhythmic clapping of  two rows of children ushering me up the driveway. Still groggy, I was asked to stop and break a fresh coconut over the doorstep as a sign of prosperity and good luck.  After a couple of good hits on the cement step, the coconut broke and again our Hearts’ Cry sponsored children (all 200) joyously applauded. We all entered the large, pillared community center hall, and the children surrounded me as I lit the ceremonial oil lamp. At the instant Wilfred lit the match, all 200 children fell absolutely silent. Absolutely, utterly and hauntingly silent. Silent in a way that is only reserved for the holy. (And, I think, impossible for American children.) It was incredible.

Once all 3 wicks were lit, the soft sounds of children’s movement returned and Father George and Wilfred welcomed me, the first Hearts’ Cry representative, to the Community Center and to Mattampally. After 10s of quiet,  ‘good evening, Madam’s, the children hurried home, and Father, Wilfred and I headed into the residential part of the center. I was shown to my lovely, (gloriously) air-conditioned room, and left to rest. Within minutes I was asleep. Fully-clothed and fully disgusting.  Showers, tooth-brushing, racing thoughts and everything else were laid aside for my first decent night of sleep in 2 days.

Personal Note: Although I am, at times critical of Indian society, I have nothing but love for the culture and people of India. My criticism is equally matched with wonder at this country’s ongoing development, and my love for the vibrancy, generosity and hospitality of the Indian people.

Cultural Note: Candlelight, as in many religions, plays an important role in both Hinduism and Christianity, and has a special significance for the Jeevana Jyothi (Life’s Light) Charitable Trust.

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