Sunlight

I used to despise sunlight. It was too bright, too hot. I would always have to squint my eyes up and that made my cheeks and eyebrows uncomfortable, heavy. Nowadays it seems that any patch of sunlight is prime real estate. On my walk to Nepali Language class I have been taking a longer route to avoid a pack of dogs that would always attack me. Numerous countries, washed countless times, hopped over endless fences and a freakin pack of dogs tears em up. The bad part of this walk is that it is completely in the shade. I think from now on I am just going to walk the route with sunshine and carry a brick. A big brick.

So the entire power structure of Nepal is built upon hydroelectric dams. This is awesome to think about when you consider that there are tons of rivers with huge water flows all over the country. Numerous foreign nations are pumping hundreds of millions of dollars into building these massive structures and even more to pay all the government officials to do it. It is awesome to think about until you consider that Nepal is one of the highest nations in the world and also one of the coldest. All the river water that pumps these huge turbines slow down drastically during the winter months because the snow is not melting. Right now we are down to 12 hours of electricity a day, government mandate. Those 12 hours are also scattered throughout the day. I have yet to find the schedule. Within the next month there is the very real possibility that the power outage will increase to over 16 hours a day. The entire landscape of this place changes when the power goes out. It is absolutely bizarre. During the day the streets of Jawalikhel are jam packed with people walking everywhere, vehicles going any which way, dogs everywhere, food cooking, ect.

Then the sun goes down.

Gone, as if nobody lives here. I normally end up walking home around this time if I miss the last bus, bundle up as best as possible and start walking and singing. Some nights there is so much pollution that even the stars are filtered out, the occasional motorcycle comes flying by, lights illuminating a dirt storm and thin beam in front of it. The other night as I was walking home, listening to the quietness, I watched as my shadow grew tall with a motorcycle coming up from behind me. At the last possible second as the driver went by my shadow broke into two different people. Now it takes a bit to shake me up, but another man following me for who knows how long without making any sounds made me a little nervous. I spun around to see his eyes watching me and stared at him for what must have been one hour, (actually 5 seconds but just count to 5 and you will understand) just waiting for him to decide and then he walked over to the other side of the road and disappeared into the shadows.

Already I am starting to hear of people dying from the cold. I can believe it too. There are too many people who have to try and brave the elements at night, try to make what little fires they can with what burnable trash they can come up with. The smells are something else too. It makes you choke and your eyes water. People huddled as close as they can get, their clothes singing just a bit. So I sit in my room, power out again, reading by candlelight until the flame starts to flicker because it has run out of wick. I was chatting with a good Nepali friend the other day who almost shuddered as he thought of the upcoming increase of power shortage. "It will bring the hell out of the souls of the people," he said. It is hard to argue with. So for now I wait for the morning light, share my candle with a friend or two.

With the mornign comes the light.

Amazing

I had the most amazing moth of December, but before you jump to conclusions keep in mind that the word: amazing, has a much broader definition than what is generally assumed.

Three nights before Christmas I was spending time with my Muslim friend from Kashmir in his rug shop. We often meet there to just shoot the breeze or talk about life and what were hoping to get out of it. He spotted my bible I had carried with me for the day and began to flip through it. My jaw about dropped as he began reading from the book of Luke, the same book I had been studying. As he read he would occasionally ask me questions on the pronunciations of particular words or particular meanings. After about 20 minutes of dialogue he asked me to teach him to speak 'more better' English and we agreed him reading out loud from the book of Luke with me guiding him would be the best way to do so. We now are meeting on a weekly basis to study "English" with a cup of tea on the side. So amazing to think some American guy is teaching a Muslim man how to speak more clearly from the bible in the middle of the heart of Hinduism.

The following day, two nights before Christmas, Robby and I receive a phone call concerning a young girl in our congregation. Apparently she was falsely accused without any evidence that she stole some jewelry. . . . three months ago. The police, being the crack outfit that they are, arrested her, took her downtown, stripped her, beat her up and then threatened to throw her in with the general male populace. We have a team of lawyers working on her behalf and thanks be to God that right now she is safe. Oh, the accusers were a couple from England. Amazing.

The night before Christmas I was honored to be invited to spend the day with my church at a nearby leper colony. Walking around, smiling, laughing with people who had amazing deformities, holding their hands, holding the, not wanting to let go as they would lean in close to hear my heartbeat but knowing there was someone else waiting to be held. As we left they just kept saying, 'thank you, thank you.' Came to find out later that many of these people had not been touched in 5 and sometimes 10 years.

I woke up the next morning aching in my heart and set off to find some errands, anything to distract my thoughts, the very cold morning making me draw my scarf a little closer, fog my glasses and turn around a corner to see three little girls not more than nine years old. Their hair was sheared close by dull scissors, you can tell by the way the ends stick out every way, in order to keep lice to a minimum, dirt caked faces you could draw landscapes in with just long enough covering to skirt the tops of their knees, sifting through the morning trash for a quick bite to eat. The word amazing is quickly becoming a word I abhor.

So it is evening now. I am sitting what feels like a million miles away staring at Mt. Everest on a veranda drinking an Irish Coffee. I had to run away from the pollution, the intensity of every day, the poverty that nips at my heels as I step over dying bodies lying in the middle of sidewalks on the way to the grocery store. I don't feel particularly amazing, more numb and not quite sure where to begin unraveling this big ball of hurt.

On the bus ride back to the city in the morning I watch the valley come up way too quickly I had been living in a land where the clouds hid the reality of what was happening on the ground. The cold air quickly freezing my fingers as I hold on tightly as the bus screams around another blind corner and I asked God.

I asked god where was He. In the middle of it all, the dirt, disease, brokenness and overwhelimingness of it all. This is what He told me;

"Every time you stop to talk to someone, give a banana to a street kid and peel it for him so he can't take it to a shop vendor for money, every time you hold a leper's held so close to your heart letting him know he has a family and that he isn't just a 'leper' but a person of value, every time you whisper a prayer for a situation that has gone beyond ridiculous and into the realm of obscene, ever time you laugh with people, pray with them, walk with them, share the story of Jesus, I am right there with you Scotty."

Amazing.