Long God Yumi Stanap (In God We Stand)

Hello! I'm back in Australia now, so as promised, here's some stories from Vanuatu - starting from day one, as I wrote it at the time...

DAY 1 - Friday 17th November 2017
"Ah, the things we've seen, and it's only eight in the morning!" - quote from a Disney movie I rather like...
I set myself two alarms for 4.30am this morning. I got up, had breakfast, got ready... then I checked my emails.
'Flight delayed!'
The flight to Sydney was delayed. I was supposed to be in Sydney at around 8.30am to check in for the flight to Vanuatu. My flight to Sydney would be leaving at 9.10am, instead of 6.30 am.
Hmmm!
We all ran around like headless chickens for a while, making phonecalls to the airline and the people organising the trip, trying to see if I would miss the flight to Vanuatu because of the delay. Eventually we (hopefully) sorted something out, so I had a nap after reading some of Mark's gospel. After all, what would my first overseas trip alone be without a little excitement?
An adventure in trusting God, just as it has been from the beginning!

Eventually, we made it! We got to our own town's airport in plenty of time. The flight left at 9.15am, and the dad of one of my friends just happened to be on the flight as well. I sat next to a guy who looked like a backpacker, but he quickly put on his headphones. I was amazed once again to see my town from the air - I even saw our house. There was a logging farm somewhere far below, and the logs looked like piles of matchsticks from the air. Crop circles, trees and dams dotted the plains before they disappeared behind impressive clouds. Then, finally, we reached Sydney.
I quickly got off the plane and ran across the tarmac, then met one of the ladies organising the trip inside. We sprinted to the baggage carousel, and waited impatiently for my bag to arrive. The second I saw it I grabbed it, and we started running again. We found the train platform (the ticket was already bought) and jumped through the open doors of the train just before they closed. After a short train journey, we ran through the international terminal until we reached check-in, puffing and panting. The officials had to turn the desk back on again, because we were late; but they had been told to wait for me, so that was all good; we had made it just in time, with minutes to spare. When I got to passport control later, I had to leave the lady looking after me because she wasn't actually going on the trip, and I was on my own. The express gate wasn't working, so I had to go with the ordinary line (I had been given an express pass on account of my flight delay). At customs however I was able to go through the express line, and managed to get through with only the loss of a tube of toothpaste. After being randomly checked (maybe I looked pretty sus, being so tired and puffing :P) I met with Samara, another organiser/leader on the trip, and from there it was a bit more relaxed. When we got to the gate, the same two officials from check-in were there, and congratulated me on making it on time! I talked to some of the fellow trip-goers for a while - they had all been there for hours I think - and then it was time to board the plane.
All day long, I had an old Colin Buchanan (a famous Australian country music/Christian kids singer songwriter) song stuck in my head:
"My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do. That's true!"
God is so faithful. Today I have had a peace, knowing that God willing, I would get there. And I got there.
God is good! I have had a good lesson in trusting God today. And now, I look forward to Vanuatu...

We flew over new Caledonia, then finally landed in Port Vila. The airport was surrounded by green fields with cows and palm trees. The combination of humidity and smoke made me feel like I was back in South India. After we got through customs, we were welcomed in the corridor by a band playing joyful Island music. They smiled at us, and I took a photo (what a tourist, haha). We loaded our luggage into the truck, and found our 'bus', the ubiquitous vans that are everywhere, in every shade of the rainbow. I leaned out the window as we drove through Vila and couldn't wipe the smile off my face. God is faithful!
We eventually reached the campsite and had some afternoon tea. Then we sat out on the grass and the campsite's pet dog, Nino (named after the cyclone), took an immediate liking to me - laying his head in my lap just like our dog back home. Ed, one of the leaders, talked to us about the itinerary and prayed for us all. Then we set up our beds, and I played the ukulele for a while.
Vanuatu is a beautiful country; it is a privilege to be here.
We had a barbecue for dinner and played some get-to-know-you games; then we had cold showers (surprisingly lovely) and went to bed under our mosquito nets. Our first day in Vanuatu.
It feels like a holiday with family; it's like we have all known each other forever. Vanuatu is beautiful, with character. There are signs of rebuilding here and there after Cyclone Pam in 2015, but people are resilient, welcoming everyone with a smile. As we drove through Vila we saw everyday life; I watched a guy grab his friend's hat and run off, and they both chuckled. Kids played games in the dusty fields and walked around on their own as they pleased; the island is their family. All are welcome.

DAY 2 - Saturday 18th November 2017
"Long God Yumi Stanap." - the motto of Vanuatu, 'In God we Stand'
I was woken up at 2.30am by a rooster next door persistently crowing, and the geckos chirping in our room. Then, at 4.30am the church next door (who were having some sort of several-week-long revival crusade) began singing very loud, out of tune (but joyful) songs... it was already light outside, I guess. But it was difficult for us to appreciate their praise and worship, because I at least had only managed to get to sleep at past 11pm and someone else in the cabin was snoring. So when the tinny old piano started, my first reaction was closer to 'please Lord, not now...'
Although ashamed of my cynicism, I also remembered an old proverb (Proverbs 27 verse 14 to be exact). But you can look that up if you really want to!
I prayed that I would have the grace to bear it joyfully, and keep going even if I was tired.
'Lord, help me not to complain but to be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, constant in prayer. Even in exhaustion, I will praise you...'
Since the roosters and geckos continued, and the music intermittently so, I eventually got up around 5am (it was light outside anyway) and had a cold shower in the dark (the lovely seabreeze made it seem quite cold too). I had a vague urge to find the rooster and strangle it, as it is one of those roosters that sound like they are dying horribly whenever they open their mouth. But surely it is one of God's good creations...
I had a bit of a nap for a while, then played the ukulele. Then it was time for some much-needed time with God.
Feeling a little more refreshed and cheerful, it was time to meet up with everyone else out on the grass. We sang songs and had a bible study, and then had breakfast. After that, it was off to town.
In town, we went to the ATM first (I had changed my money already at the airport, and realised then how much I was ripped off :P) then went to some tourist shops. We went down to the markets, where some of the girls got their hair braided into cornrows. I bought a few things, mostly presents for my family. I talked lots to the ladies at the stalls and sometimes a kid would call out 'halo!'.
We met up at the Jungle Cafe and had some icecream together, then went for a walk along the waterfront. Eventually we sat down in a shady pergola area in the park and played cards. When it was time to meet back up, we found the leaders at the back of the markets, and had a traditional markets' lunch - beef stew and rice and cassava.

Then it was off to the Blue Lagoon; we reached there and put our swimmers on. There were a few rope swings, but I didn't go on any. After getting used to the water and paddling around for a while, I got out and watched people on the swing. Then I noticed a bunch of kids standing up in the overhanging trees, and followed them out, climbing through the slippery branches. I jumped into the water from a low tree branch, which was great fun, and then did it again. I asked one little boy his name, which was Junior. He lived in Vila but had come here with his family for a fun day out. I jumped in a few more times, having fun climbing the trees. In another tree one of the branches broke and I think a boy fell into the water (he was fine).
Eventually we got out and ate cassava chips and had a reflection time. Our group, consisting of four girls and Samara, each shared our testimonies of how we had become Christians and talked for a while. Eventually, it was time to head off back to the campsite.

On the way back I got to sit in the front, so I had a nice chat with the driver, Marcel. He had always been a bus driver, he said, and was 19 when Vanuatu gained independence. We talked about a lot of things; Cyclone Pam, the economy (supported mostly by tourism and plantations/agriculture) and a few other things. He explained the role of chiefs in different areas of Vanuatu in the modern day (in the Northern islands I think the role of Chief is earned by the number of pigs killed; in the Southern islands it is hereditary). He pointed out the house of the chief (the chief of the area we were staying, at least), who was an old man now. The chief's responsibilities included making sure young people didn't pick up bad habits, and being someone that people could bring their problems and disputes to. Marcel also told me the story of the ancient chief buried on Eratap Island. When he died, his 100 wives were made drunk on Kava and buried alive with him! Marcel laughed when I looked a little worried, and assured me it wasn't like that anymore!
On our way through the embassies in Vila he also pointed out the main Nakamal (meeting place), where chiefs from all over Vanuatu would meet to discuss matters.
Eventually we got back to camp, after passing a giant upside-down tree ripped out of the ground by Cyclone Pam. The road was very potholey, and Marcel explained that the government was meaning to fix the roads soon, and a lot of the roads on the island were like this.
When we got back, we managed to (sort of) crack open a coconut with a rock and a sharp thing (although we would later learn the proper way to do it!), after our dinner of the classic Australian spag bol, or spaghetti bolognese. (Okay so technically it's Italian. But it's a pretty classic meal in Australia, and the cooks at the camp were also Australian :P)
At dinner I had a nice conversation with one of the cooks, Kristyne, who had served with YWAM for 8 years including on Mercy Ships. After dinner, we played the card game Mafia (an old favourite of kids everywhere in Australia, especially on bus trips or excursions). Then it was time for bed, the end of our first full day in paradise, a.k.a Vanuatu! The revival music next door was still going strong...

Recipe for an Adventure:

1. Sign up for an overseas trip that sounds cool
2. Realise, the day before you leave, that you don't know anyone else going or what you will actually be doing the whole time
3. Trust God!

Well, I'm going to interrupt my stories about India from last year, to bring some news of the more current sort. Tomorrow, I'm heading off to Vanuatu! And I thought I might tell the story of how I came to be going there; I reckon it shows the faithfulness and the love of God.

It all started back in September, when I felt the need to leave the country again and was plotting how I could go to Singapore for a week after my exams (yes, I guess Singapore and Vanuatu are pretty different places). Maybe I should be a travel agent, I do love plotting overseas travel... anyway, I had the whole thing figured out, and then I realised - I wasn't old enough to legally stay in a hotel on my own. Hmmm! So I tried to see if I could convince anyone to come with me, but without success. Just as I finally accepted I might not be able to go overseas this year after all, I realised my mum was looking at something on her computer. It was the ad for a trip which I had considered earlier in the year but dismissed because the dates clashed with other stuff... a trip to Vanuatu! It was sort of half mission trip and half post-exam relaxing holiday. The idea immediately took hold of my travel-plotting brain and wouldn't let go. So I looked into it more. I had this strange feeling that God was giving me a nudge.

So I asked God whether I should go to Vanuatu. I asked for a sign, I asked that His will be done. I asked to be willing to give up the other thing which the trip clashed with; both the trip and this other thing were once-in-a-lifetime things, so I was a little bit conflicted, as if I wasn't sure whether God would really come through for me again like He always has. I applied to our church presbytery for financial help. I told them how much the trip cost, but not that I was $500 short. We received a message a few days later from the church council. They could not make the full amount of the trip, they said, but they could give some. And the most they could do, they said, was... $500! God is good :)

Then I decided I would speak at church about the trip, with the congregation who have become my very dear family in Christ. I decided that, God willing, I was going to Vanuatu. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, and I listened. I felt a voice urging 'Go, I am with you'. I let go of my possessions; they belonged to God anyway. They were a gift from God, so I would offer them back to Him... having empty hands brought me a great solace, something I didn't expect. Before I had been so worried about keeping all the money I had, but when it was gone, I felt a kind of relief. (As a bit of a joke, ages ago when I had to make a name for my bank account, I called it 'God's money' in Hindi, to remind myself that it didn't really belong to me. Then, when I had to make the decision of whether to go to Vanuatu, I was struggling with my usual indecisiveness... and then I saw that name. That helped.)
I registered for the trip, I paid the deposit. I felt a great peace, letting go of my fears and wants.
"This will be an experiment in trusting God," I thought. I was reminded of words from a song that I like very much: 'Nothing left to hold on to... I'll raise these empty hands to you.'
I looked at photos and videos from previous trips that had gone (it's run each year for students finishing their final exams). I saw the people, the places, and my heart yearned within me as it hadn't done for some time - not since India. I remembered my faith. I remembered my hope.

A little while later, I was still a little bit short of the cost of the trip - by $15. I knew God wouldn't let me not go for such a small amount. After church (I think on the day the final balance of the trip was due), someone came up and gave me a handful of gold coins - $10. Then I remembered someone had given my mother an envelope for me, and she had put it in my bag. I opened it - $5.
$15.
I smiled at God's provision. Then later a very dear old friend of mine very generously gave $50, and even in the weeks afterward people have very generously given small amounts here and there.
Jesus is always enough. My God is the God who provides for His children!
I am so thankful for the generous and loving church family I have been blessed with. So many people have prayed for me, not just during my exams, but for many years. Many people have come up to me after church to let me know they are praying for me, and even that they will be praying for me on this trip I will be going on tomorrow. I feel so loved, so supported.
I also realised something amazing just a few weeks ago. I had been confused that the church presbytery still wanted to give the $500; I thought the church had already given it. Then finally I understood - they both wanted to give $500. The church and the presbytery (I hadn't realised that they were separate things). God's wonderful provision never ceases to astound me and fill me with hope!

So, that is the story behind how I came to be going to Vanuatu tomorrow! When I get back I will hopefully share some stories from there.
This morning it kind of hit me that I really was leaving tomorrow. I seems incredible to think that tomorrow I will be in another country. I will not know anyone else going; I still don't even know what the itinerary is! But it will be an experiment in trusting God, as it has been from the very beginning. I know that my God is utterly trustworthy; He will never leave me nor forsake me, no matter where I am in the world. As I wrote in India a few times, "I will not be afraid, because my God goes with me."  It is time for another adventure with Jesus! And it is my prayer that His love will shine on my face for all to see, and that He would use my life to bless other precious souls around me, to show his love in practical ways to my brothers and sisters in Christ; it is my prayer that I will appreciate every breath and every day God has given me, and use all of it for His glory.


"Bring to God your bread and fishes, and He will multiply them how He wills."

Meeting our World Vision sponsor child - 4

Last year I went to India. This is part 4 of the notes that I wrote back then, while I was over there, and since I wrote them to be shared with others, I thought I might share them here! Also, if you're interested in reading the previous posts, they complete the story so it makes a bit more sense :)
After a few days being just two more foreign tourists in the tourist hotspots, it was time for a journey off the beaten track, starting in Delhi and reaching to a tiny uncharted village in Northern India, only an hour or two from the Nepal border. The reason? Meeting a young boy and his family, a family supported by the amazing work of World Vision. We had had the privilege of being involved in supporting this family through World Vision for several years, and now would have the great privilege of finally meeting them. (For privacy reasons, I can't show pictures of the family, but I'll do my best to tell as much of their story as I know!). Also if the writing is in [square brackets] these are things I have added as an afterthought as I am transcribing it now. So without further ado, here is the story, starting from the day before...

Day 5 - Wednesday 28th September 2016, Delhi/Lucknow

This morning, I was a bit sick. I may have been so in Asha's garden [okay, I still feel pretty bad about that. It was such a beautiful little garden...], but then I felt alright after that [because I was sick from the doxycycline, aka anti-malarial drugs, and thankfully not food poisoning. Turns out you're supposed to eat before you take malaria pills]. We had some breakfast (western style) with Liz and her boyfriend whose name I can't remember. Maya very generously gifted me with a red necklace to go with my salwar kameez [traditional Indian clothes], and Asha declared me an Indian princess.

Sunrise over Asha's garden...

We left for the airport and caught our flight to Lucknow. We sat next to Atul from Allahabad, who later in the flight was very sick... but before takeoff we had a nice conversation in Hindi. The man in front of me also kept turning around to stare at me when he heard me speaking Hindi; I think he was hoping I would speak to him in Hindi as well! The landscape changed as we flew towards Lucknow; there were more villages and farms, and they seemed greener, although the air was drier.

We landed in Lucknow. It was very bright and dry, and as soon as we stepped out of the airport with the driver we'd hired, the difference between Delhi and Lucknow became apparent. It seemed, perhaps, poorer and less 'polished' [this is the general stereotype of this state in India, at least]. Our driver had his shirt half-open and chest hair sticking out. The whole way to the Mohan Hotel I didn't see any other tourists or foreigners, just everyday life. Water buffaloes bathed in puddles, and tents made from tarps and old plastic bags occasionally rose from the dust on the side of the street. Children grinned and men chuckled; women and babies held onto men riding motorcycles (for dear life sometimes) and schoolgirls giggled as they walked past. We eventually reached our hotel (opposite some dodgy sounding shops... for the sake of politeness I won't mention exactly what their names were).

When we arrived, it turned out the lady from World Vision had called, and so we called her again to organise our visit tomorrow. I'm so excited! I've been dreaming of the day for so long, now that it's almost here I don't really know what to do. It is up to God, what happens. I will trust Him. He has brought us this far, and his love will carry us home...

Little villages in Uttar Pradesh from the air

We rested in the hotel for a few hours, and I watched people in the street go by from our window. Then, in the afternoon we went out exploring. It was nice walking down the street in the chaos and rubbish and crowds of people, walking past shops selling bags and old dirty-looking kurtas, and smelling the scent of incense and coconut lassi and cow poo and construction works. We went down an enclosed alley of shops, and I bought a salwar kameez from a shop run by a Sikh man and his assistant whom he called 'black beauty' (a short young man). He charged us what he said was an Indian price rather than a tourist price [which was true, too, since I got a patiala suit there for rs.750 or so, less than half the price of the one I found in Agra!] We said goodbye and then explored another alley of shops where Dad bought a new belt; then we came back to the hotel. We had dinner, watched a movie [King Kong, I believe. Not the best idea I've ever had, because it ran late and we were getting up early the next day...], and then went to bed.

 Looking out from the hotel window at the street below

Donkeys!!!

And so ended the day of our travels to Lucknow - the next day would be the one we would meet a very special young boy and his family...

Day 6 - 29th September 2016, Lucknow/ Uncharted Village

I do not see poverty and dust and desperation, just beautiful souls, and giggling children and happy grins and approving smiles from dadis [grandmas].
We left the hotel at 8am with the lady from World Vision and drove for about an hour until we reached the World Vision office at Sandila. There we talked with the people working there and filled out some paperwork [they even offered me what I thought was chai. Turns out it was the first time I ever drank coffee - extremely sweet, Indian-spiced coffee, that formed a skin on top from the boiled milk!]. Then, a little later, we left Sandila and drove for another while until we reached the village. A crowd of children met us at the gate and we came to the house of Ankit's family - an extended family of 36 people! It was a house made mostly of mudbrick and was quite dusty. We sat down and met Ankit, who put some rose garlands on us and marked our foreheads with tilak [turmeric powder - a traditional Hindu greeting for guests, I think]. We met his mother and father and grandmother, as well as some of his father's six brothers and Ankit's many cousins. When we arrived, his sisters were still at school [the other kids had all been given the day off!].

Some of the family's water buffaloes

We ate some khoya (made from the family's own buffalo's and cow's milk) and talked with them for a while. The kids sang us a song, Ankit joining in a little reluctantly (I don't think he liked singing). Ankit said that he might like to be a soldier one day. The kids [cousins] there were one boy and several young girls. Two of the girls sung and danced another song, and I rather shyly did part of a dance for them [at everyone's insistence, apparently! I wasn't very good, and didn't have any music...] While Dad played cricket with Ankit for a while with the set we had brought for them, I sat down on the ground with the other kids and practiced my Hindi (much to their amusement and fascination and sometimes frustration). [I think they may have spoken a dialect of Hindi which was a little different, and I could only just understand what they were saying in my beginner's level Hindi!]

Later on they showed us their fields where they grew many different things like lemon, mango, corn, rice, peanuts (which I ate some of straight from the ground) and jamun [a type of berry]. They also had a few cows and water buffaloes. The kids would tug on my hand or sleeve saying 'Didi!', urging me to follow them, and then giggling mysteriously (when I asked why, they only said 'it's nothing!' and kept giggling behind their hands). We ate some roasted corn (and earlier we'd had some pakaudis, similar to samosas). We then gave some of the gifts we had brought for the family, and the family generously gifted us with a handmade pankha, an Indian fan made of bamboo and wool.

The village road outside their house

We [or rather I] took a long time to say goodbye. I didn't want to leave; one of the girls asked whether I liked it better there or in Australia and without hesitation I straightaway said 'yahan' [here]. I felt so welcomed and at home there; I was happier even than I have been in a long time. God is good. I told them I hoped to 'waapas aaungi' [come back], and they said 'zarur aana!' [come back, for sure!]. I hope I can come back one day. I said my final goodbyes, and then we left.

We stopped at a dhaba-like place for a late lunch [a dhaba is like the Indian version of a servo], and then stopped back at the office in Sandila. Then we filled out a little more paperwork, and had some interesting conversations with the staff there [we learned about the needs of the community, such as education to prevent malnutrition in children, because they have the potential resources but not the knowledge of how to feed their kids; and also the need for proper toilets, because I think only 7% of people in the area had access to a proper toilet. People otherwise go out in the open, which is not safe, especially for women, and poses hygiene issues to the community.]

Eventually we left and went back to our hotel in Lucknow, and had a bit of dinner and went to bed. I'm so thankful to God for the day we had, and the beautiful souls we met today. I felt, as we were driving back, that now my calling is surer. I love this country and I love these people; they are my heart. I need to come back, spend time with my 'family', and look after them in any way I can, with the love of Jesus.

A poster on the wall in the World Vision office of the area

Scaffolding, Beggars and Jesus - 3

Last year, I went to India! This is part 3 of my (mostly unabridged) account that I wrote while I was over there. If you like to start at the start, there are some previous posts that cover the first three days of my journey. Since I wrote a lot of stuff, I'm posting the stories in installments. Also as a disclaimer, as the trip went on and I got progressively more tired, my writing became less and less cohesive, and more of a stream of consciousness... so I'll try and fix it as much as possible to make it readable! Not that anyone really reads this blog haha :P I needed to type up all my notes though anyway...
In the last installment, I left off just after our arrival in Agra (we were going there to see the Taj Mahal of course... why else?) Personally I wasn't particularly interested in going to Agra just to see it, but it was something my dad wanted to do, and also apparently it's an 'essential' thing to do when you visit North India... so that's where we ended up going on Day 4. (And by the way, if I write stuff in [...] brackets, it means I'm adding it now as an afterthought). Anyway! Without further ado, here are some more stories from India...

Day 4 - Tuesday 27th September 2016, Agra/Delhi

This morning we got up early, before sunrise, to see the Taj Mahal [as a random sidenote, in case you were curious, Mahal isn't actually pronounced mahaaaaaaal, but rather more like mehel] . At the place where we bought tickets, we learned you couldn't bring any food in, and I gave the rest of our packet of biscuits to a man who I think was a beggar, sitting on the ground. He smiled.
'Thank you madam,' he said, and he waved to me as we drove off in the bus a few minutes later and smiled again.

The place you buy the tickets, and the man who got half a packet of biscuits is in the shot too.

So, the Taj Mahal? Very big. Pretty cool, I guess. A man showed us where to take good photos from, and when we wouldn't pay him he walked away muttering 'that's not fair!' [he hadn't mentioned at all beforehand that his advice wasn't free... tourist scams :P] We went around the Taj Mahal for a while, then looked out over the Yamuna River for a while, then came back to the Coral Tree Homestay after buying a fridge magnet and a little elephant carved from stone [souvenirs, naturally].

 A mischievous creature, which stole someone's apple when they weren't looking...

 Sunrise at the gate

And  of course, the star attraction... scaffolding!

There were lots of monkeys at the Taj; at one point a gang of them were chasing a terrified skeletal little cat across the grass. We came back to the Coral Tree after seeing the Taj Mahal, which I mentioned already [haha handwriting + memory skills there], and then we went out on a tuktuk to the Agra Fort. it was very hot there, although the architecture was interesting. Then we went to a clothes shop, which was expensive, so we went to another where I bought a patiala suit [the long shirt and baggy pants with a scarf that young women often wear in India, especially in the North] and a cushion cover with the Taj Mahal on it for Mum.

 Somewhere in the Fort in Agra

You can actually see the Taj Mahal from the Fort too, in the distance

We came back for lunch, and then I talked to two young women in their twenties [who worked at the homestay] while they put mehendi [henna] on my feet. I can't remember the name of the girl doing the mehendi but she was 21, had three brothers and three sisters, and lived with all of them as well as her parents and her grandmother! The other girl, Usha, was 27 and came from Shimla in Himachal Pradesh [a state right up in the North of India; it even snows there in the parts near the Himalayas]. I've discovered, as I somewhat expected, that I find the people, and talking to people, much more interesting than architecture. Usha only spoke one language - Hindi - and it was amazing to be able to speak and be understood by her.

Mehendi - traditionally only worn at weddings, but hey! One has to comply with tourist stereotypes

I love speaking Hindi, because I can talk to so many more people and hear so many more stories than other people who come to India and only speak English. God has given me a love for languages, and inspired me to start and continue learning Hindi. I'm glad that He did. When you talk to someone in their mother tongue, you talk to the 'real' them and not the image they might present to tourists. Perhaps then, people would be open to hearing about Jesus from a foreigner if the conversation was in Hindi; but really it is up to God to open someone's heart. Anyway, I love Hindi. I love God. We'll see what happens from there!

 [As a side note, in my limited understanding of a complicated issue, Christianity in India is generally associated with British colonialism - and especially recently with the growth of Hindu Nationalism and the widespread support for the BJP political party (which is quite nationalist). Christianity is viewed as a negative foreign influence, and many Indian Christians face persecution because of this. Evangelism from foreigners in some cases can do more harm than good, as it can reinforce the popular (although false) stereotype that foreign Christians 'force or trick Indian people into leaving their cultural heritage to join some foreign religion'. However, there are still technically more Christians in India than there are people in all of Australia! Anyway, as an open Christian myself I realised, as I began to understand Indian culture more, that it is important to be wise in sharing Jesus in a culture that unfortunately sometimes tends to associate Jesus with arrogance and oppression by white people. It is a good start at least to break down stereotypes, even by simply showing the love of Jesus in everything you do. And also to realise that it is not always up to you to save the whole world in the next 24 hours, and to ask God to lead you and grant you wisdom! This was an idea that was only just beginning to develop in my mind at the time, and I still inwardly cringe at my naivety every now and then. Anyway, back to the story!]

We relaxed for a while in the outside lounge, talking to our fellow homestay guests: the mother and daughter from New Zealand, and also a mother, father and two daughters (13 and 17) from New Zealand too. After they left, Dad went for a walk to the ATM and I fell asleep on the couch outside for a while. Then we said our goodbyes to the lovely people who ran the homestay, and took a car to the train station. I had a good conversation in Hindi with our driver (I think his name was Krishan Gopal or something. He was from Agra and four children: a daughter and three sons, the youngest of whom was four years old). He showed us a photo (while driving) of his youngest son. We arrived at the station and caught our train back to Delhi, eating some food on the train; I listened to some music on my laptop [okay so I may have brought my school laptop. Dunno if I was really supposed to... but I gave that one back a long time ago anyway!]. Most of the seats around us were filled with an Australian group from Sydney [all wearing bright polo shirts with the name of their trip printed all over it, too. They seemed to be discussing social media, and who liked who, and who's girlfriend did what? etc. It was like being back in school...]

A view out the train window between Agra and Delhi

Chaos ensued when we got off the train [back in Delhi], as we tried to look for a restaurant called Comesum outside the station where we would meet our driver to the next place we were staying. It turns out there were two Comesum restaurants [at opposite sides of the station too haha], and eventually we found the right one. On the way we were fought over by rickshawallahs. A little girl in a faded purple anarkali suit [traditional Indian dress] came up and tugged on my sleeve.
'Didi,' she said, and 'Bhaiyya,' for Dad. She was holding out her hand and looking up imploringly, motioning eating, saying 'das rupaye...' [das rupaye means 'ten rupees'. Also, 'Didi' means big sister, and 'Bhaiyya' means big brother]. Later on, as we were getting into our car, a thin woman in a sari approached us, holding a baby. She asked for some money to feed her baby, calling down blessings on me and my suitcase and looking up to the sky, then pinching her baby's thin cheeks to make it cry. As we left I asked her 'maaf kijiye' [forgive me], as I couldn't help her.

We drove through the streets and highways and stopped in traffic. A little boy with a bunch of balloons came up, asking for das rupaye. He rubbed his tummy and looked up questioningly. His friend did too. I could not do anything for them [and all the travel advice constantly repeats not to give to beggars, despite what your feelings may compel you to do], so after a while they moved on, and so did the traffic. We eventually arrived at Maya's Nest, a homestay in a Colony [a district where middle-class people live - they had an armed guard I think, outside the boom gate of the district], in a building up several flights of stairs. We had dinner here with Liz from the Netherlands, who had cycled with her boyfriend around Kyrgyzstan and was now in India for six weeks. Our host Asha was very hospitable. She had some strong opinions about things, especially when she heard we'd been on the Salaam Baalak Trust walk [see 'Adventures in India - Part 2']. She also had some very strong opinions about religion and politics and Indian history. But she was a good hostess, and looked after us very well, like a mother [Maya's Nest does mean mother's nest after all]. Liz's boyfriend joined us for a while but he couldn't eat much because of a toothache. After dinner we all talked for a while, and then went to bed.



And so ended the fourth day of our adventure, and the last day of being just another bunch of tourists in the Delhi-Agra section of the tourist triangle. Thank you for reading thus far! Stay tuned for some more adventures, of the less touristy kind...

Street Kids, Thumb Wars and Chai - 2

Last year, I went to India! This is part 2 of the [mostly unabridged] account I wrote while I was over there, so if you're interested to read from the beginning you could read the previous post (although it's mainly about Singapore on the way to India!). Looking at how much I have written about each day... this may involve quite a few posts! But I needed to type it up anyway really, so if I lost the hard copy I would still have it somewhere. And if anyone enjoys reading it, well, that's a plus! Anyway, the first installment only included about two lines concerning India... so here is day three, which is when I actually reached India :)

Day 3 - Monday 26th September [2016], Delhi/Agra

There is so much I could write, but I'll start with recounting this morning. I didn't sleep very much, and woke up several times. Then I found an old tim-tam in my bag and ate it (not the best idea I've ever had). I felt very sick. I leaned over the sink for a while, then lay down, feeling annoyed I'd managed to get sick even before eating any Indian food. [As it turns out, the reason I was feeling sick was because I didn't realise you shouldn't take doxycycline, ie. malaria tablets, on an empty stomach. But anyway, continuing with the story!] So I prayed. A few minutes later I sat up, feeling more or less fine. God is good! I am looking forward eagerly to the rest of today!

We had breakfast on the roof of the hotel [which had turned out to be a dingy backpackers place in Paharganj, but hey, I liked it... Dad didn't though! Haha the story is that it was my job to book everything, including hotels, and... this was the one time I didn't do so well in spotting a good place]. We sat at a table with three Brazilian ladies who were from an island near Argentina. Another tour group filled the rest of the chairs, and they were from a school near Lismore! Breakfast consisted of puris and bhaji, with a little muffin on the side. The air on the rooftop was warm and sluggish, although we were shaded by a roof and shadecloth, and fans spun slowly above us. It was quiet up there, although punctuated by the occasional car honk, and you could see the rooftops of the neighbouring buildings through the shadecloth. Next up is the walk. [A guided walk through the streets of Paharganj by Salaam Baalak Trust, a charity rescuing kids off the street. Paharganj is a district of Delhi. It is the 'backpacker district' but it is also sadly a drug area, glue mostly, and on the other side of the railway is the red light district where most girls living on the street end up. Our guides were ex-street kids themselves. The walks aim to raise money and awareness of the situation of street kids in Delhi. As I found out later, some middle-class Delhi-ites don't like the fact that the charity presents a negative image of Delhi to all the tourists...]

Right, so the walk! So much more happened than I could capture in words. We walked through the galis [narrow lanes], avoiding dogs and puddles and rubbish while dodging rickshaws and cars; the guide Devraj along with another guide who was learning, Rahul, told us about what life is like for kids on the street in Delhi and how they came to be there. They also told us their personal stories of how Salaam Baalak had helped them [I hope it's okay to share their stories here!]; Rahul (16) is from Bihar, but his mother had died when he was a baby so he was an only child. His father was alcoholic and beat and tortured him, so he ran away. Devraj (17) is from near Kathmandu in Nepal. His mother died when he was 14, and his father (who was a farm labourer and was on drugs) made him and his siblings go to live with his elder sister and her husband. [They both eventually ended up on the street in Delhi, but have found a safe place in Salaam Baalak Trust. They now lead these guided tours, and help kids who were like themselves.]

Walking through the streets of Paharganj

We visited a 'contact point' [where Salaam Baalak keeps an eye out for kids who seem lost and helps them either find their family or provides them a place to stay] for the kids at the railway station, and then we walked to one of the boys' centres. We met a few young grinning boys, all around 7 or 8 years old, and played thumb wars [probably taught to them by foreign volunteers, who often help out there for a few weeks at a time], and talked about cricket and learned some of their names. I talked to them in Hindi [I had been learning it from books and movies and such since I was about 12 and could hold a very basic conversation]; the only name I can really remember was Pappu, an 8 year old who beat me at thumb wars every time.
Then we walked back to the head office of Salaam Baalak Trust and paid our donation and bought some t-shirts [another fundraising venture of the charity]. I really loved being able to meet the people and hear their stories, and also walk around the streets with someone to lead us. I saw squirrels for the first time, and a monkey, and lots of dogs and rats and flies and ants. Some streets smelled like incense, others like a farm, and others like a rubbish tip - and then you would look down, and discover that it actually was a rubbish tip.

I absolutely love it here; I never want to leave. I love all the people, all those precious souls all around me. I love the smell, I love the people grinning at you calling out 'Ma'am! You want to buy?', I love the Hindi being spoken all around me. I love the kids, and the old ladies huddled over walking sticks in saris, and the rickshaw drivers hovering beside you trying to convince you to take a ride while trying not to run over your feet. I love our tiny, dirty room. But most of all, I love my Jesus, my precious saviour who has brought me home to the land my heart adores. All my fears are diminished; it is difficult to think of a time I have been happier and more at home except for the day I was saved. God is good!

Travelling to Agra...
We made it on time to our train to Agra. It had taken us a while to figure out where to go and what platform to find, but eventually we got to the right spot and found our seats. We had taken an  auto-rickshaw to get to the station, which after we kept walking the driver changed the fare from 60 rupees to 40 [still ripping us off a little, but hey, a guy's gotta make a living, right?]. We didn't really fit in with our luggage so my knees were hanging out the side and were nearly run into a few times. On the train I shared my bench seat by the window with a man who lived near Agra, but was a fly-in-fly-out worker in an oil company in Assam [one of the states on the other side of Bangladesh]. The train moved slowly out of the station, our compartment echoing with the merry laughs of some men nearby us who had apparently just told a very hilarious joke. We passed through station, with little boys walking alongside the tracks and older men [at the stations] going along with black grease covering their gloves. We passed crumbling slums and tents and washing lines strung up under bridges, barefoot children skipping after their mother and women in saris squatting in doorways. Mounds of rubbish banked the river, surrounding it on all sides, and as we go by on the train, rubbish is littered across the tracks.

 The train station before the train departed

Looking out the train window at the river

A little further along in our journey some people came through selling things: Pani! Thanda pani, pani! Bisket! Cake, bisket, chips...! Garam garam chai, chai, garam chai! [I'll never forget the chaiwallahs... always with their deadpan voices, saying chai, chai... garam chai...]
We buy a little paper cup of chai for 10 rupees each [about 20 cents]. Well, I say chai, but it is probably closer to being liquefied sugar... it is hot and delicious, and goes well with the biscuits we bought from a street vendor back in Paharganj.

The train is quiet and relaxing, a nice break from the chaos of the street. The only other quiet place was really the restaurant where we had lunch, a place called Tadka. A random man had helped us find the restaurant, being very helpful, which he then immediately followed up with 'you want henna tattoo? Only 300 rupees...'
For lunch, I had tadka dal with chapati, and Dad had aloo gobhi and garlic naan. There was more than we could eat, so we got it as takeaway and have taken it with us to eat on the train later [we never did eat it. It was a few hours old by the time we were hungry again, and Dad decided not to risk it]. We'll be in Agra soon, and I'm interested to see how it compares to Delhi.

In Agra...
Agra is smaller than Delhi [I think]. We arrived at just before sunset. A man from our carriage kindly helped us to find the exit of the station and our driver to the Coral Tree Homestay [I had also booked most of the taxis in advance]. This place was a sort of small, compound-like building with lots of artsy decorations and was considerably fancier than the Smyle Inn back in Paharganj. We had a home cooked dinner [and tried Petha, the local sweet made from a unique type of white pumpkin that only grows around Agra and nowhere else in the world]. We had the dinner with two German tourists and a mother and daughter from New Zealand, and then went to bed.

 View from inside the train

 This cow parked itself in the only free parking spot, I believe

The road outside our place in Agra

And that concludes the story of my first full day in India! Stay tuned for more adventures in India...

Home Is Where Jesus Is - 1

Last year, I went to India! While I was there, I wrote some things down. So I thought I would include a (slightly abridged) version of the journal I kept here, because there were a lot of stories I haven't had the chance to tell to everyone, and I originally was writing the journal with the intention for other people to be allowed to read it! And as a disclaimer, this is what I wrote a year ago :P I will admit that my writing is a little cliche at times. Also I think I'll do it a few days of the trip at a time so the posts aren't super long :) Anyway here it is, starting from day one, when I was still at home...

Day 1 - Saturday 24th September, Sydney/Singapore

How do you pack your life up into a suitcase? How do you decide what to leave, what to bring? There are always things you wish you could take that don’t fit in, even when you’re not even sure you will ever use them. And there is always something you forget to bring.
I have just had the experience of trying to decide what the important, essential things in life are. And what I have discovered is that while the amount of clothes and medicine and presents and books are all key things to packing a balanced suitcase, there is nothing I would hold on to more than Jesus. He is the first thing packed; Jesus is the non-negotiable. Wherever I go, Jesus is with me. I make sure to put space aside for Him; not just physical space for things like a bible, but time and love. Wherever I go, I am an ambassador for Christ; He walks beside me at every step, and I am following Him wherever he leads. It is my prayer that wherever I travel, people might see the light of Christ shining and be drawn to his beautiful light.

I will not be afraid. [You see, a lot of people were kind of horrified I was going to India nearly on my own, with only my dad. People said to my mum, 'how on earth can you let your daughter go there?', and I guess it was just because they'd heard all the horror stories. Anyway. Sorry for interrupting! These square brackets mean that I'm writing side-notes in hindsight. Back to the story...] God is my solid rock, my foundation. I will not be moved; I will not be shaken. I am going on an adventure with God, meeting God’s precious children and my brothers and sisters in Christ in the country of my heart. I will see challenging things, probably get sick, be constantly hot and sweaty, and by the end of the day probably more exhausted than I’ve been for a while. But this is my joy; because of Jesus I can bear these things as joys, as privileges, and not sufferings.
And as for feeling homesick - firstly, if ‘home is where the heart is’, I could say that right now, living in Australia, my heart is 10 000km away on the other side of the ocean [aka India :) ]. But even more than this, just like a family of Syrian refugees once spray-painted on their tent in the refugee camp: ‘home is where Jesus is’. And Jesus is always with us.

All packed and ready to go...

Day 2 - Sunday 25th September, Singapore/Delhi

Singapore. The first thing you notice as you arrive in the steamy air is the smell, that Singapore smell - faintly sweet and fruity. The whole city smells like this. Even the water seems to taste how the air smells.

Another interesting thing you notice is the diversity, but unity. A mosque, a church and a temple can all be found almost on the same street. Bus and taxi drivers display their miniature Buddhist prayer wheels or shiny catholic crosses on the dashboard, and on the same road, you can see hijab and shorts-and-singlets being worn.

We arrived at our hotel at about 1.30am, which in Australia time was about 3.30am. I was too excited and full of adrenaline to be tired. I was constantly glued to all the beautiful tropical plants as we drove past, remembering times in Japan and Sydney and concluding that Singapore seemed to be a combination of the two. I eventually went to sleep around 2 or 3am Singapore time, and since our room had no windows we only woke up at 9am. It felt a lot earlier than that.

So we set off down the street next to our hotel in search of some breakfast. I had wanted to visit a church, as it was Sunday, but this didn't end up working out due to travel times and how late we'd woken up. There was a shop beside our hotel selling hijab, and then further down was a fruit shop with bunches of bananas dangling overhead. The air was thick, but pleasant. We explored further down the streets into some markets. As we learned later, this was in the Malay area of town, which was why most of the women passing by wore hijab or scarves, and why that was what most of the shops seemed to sell. We ended up going back to a restaurant right next to our hotel, and were served our food by the same man who had checked us into the hotel. 

A fruit market near the hotel

After breakfast we packed some things for a day out. We hailed a taxi from the street outside and went to the Gardens by the Bay, where we explored the Flower Dome and the Supertree Grove for a few hours. Then we took a taxi back to the hotel, having an interesting chat with the driver. Then we checked out and took another taxi to the airport. The driver of this taxi was a friendly old man, and we chatted about the economics and politics of Singapore (and if we'd had a dollar for every time he mentioned that 'Singapore is just a small island, with not many resources...'). He was a very interesting person, acting as tour guide and telling us some interesting things about Singapore's relations with Malaysia and Britain and how their economy worked.

Eventually we arrived at the airport terminal (which turned out to be the wrong one), and after finding the right terminal and checking in our luggage we went to have some lunch at about 3pm. Then we boarded our flight to New Delhi. I was in a window seat, but it was on the wing of the plane, so I couldn't see very much.

Some flowers in the Flower Dome

It's funny how much bigger and smaller the world becomes when you travel overseas. You can see the world through different eyes, and you can marvel at the world God has made. I was reminded of a bible verse [note: okay so my memory wasn't perfect, I think I was mixing two different verses in my head but the principle still is pretty biblically sound!]:

'And I am with you always, even to the ends of the earth.' [I was pretty close really]

God is right there walking alongside us, no matter where we are in the world. God's sovereignty has no borders. And there is something we are called to do as well [again my paraphrased version, I didn't have a bible in front of me :)]: 'Go out into all the world, preaching the good news of Christ!' [Making disciples of all nations, that's what I meant]

When you are an ambassador for Christ, you cannot simply be objective. You engage with wherever you find yourself, and you are a vessel for the light of Christ.

I don't know what is to come, what the land I have dreamed of for so long will be like, and I don't know what I will be called to do and to be. But I am not afraid, because the King who loves His people and takes care of them, is the King who died for me, and holds my life in the palm of His hand. The truth has set me free. In His strength, I can face anything with a joy that never ceases. I am well loved. And my Father is taking me on a journey that leads home, home to India but also home with God in Heaven. I look forward to it with great joy.

Later...

India. It is like coming home at last, after so many years living away. It is an adventure, beautiful but perhaps a little scary. But my God goes with me, so I am not afraid.

[Okay, so this was my face when I looked out the plane window at the lights of India for the first time :P]

Bread and Fishes? (Like in that story, eh?)

In order to explain the story behind the name of the blog... You are likely familiar with the story about Jesus feeding the five thousand with five loaves and two small fishes. (Fishes, or fish? I'm going to keep writing fishes, just to be consistent)
During my adventures as a high school student, this story came to have a particular significance in the period leading up to some pretty significant exams. It just so happened that the Sunday before the exams started, this story was one of the readings at church. The sermon took an angle on the story I hadn't quite considered before. To sum up the sermon in a sentence (or at least what I took away from it):
"Bring to God your 'bread and fishes', and He will do with it what He will."
In other words, God has given you gifts and abilities. When it comes to things like exams, you can only do what God has given you the ability to do. You can only offer what you have. So you do your best, and trust God to use what you have done to accomplish his purposes. As my brother and teachers pointed out, a few marks aren't going to stop you from being exactly where God has planned for you to be. So if I fail, I know it is God closing a door, and leading me in his perfect plan down a road I would not have chosen on my own. And if I pass, well then, praise the Lord! And I pray that whatever happens, I keep my eyes fixed on the one who can multiply what we have to offer to provide exactly the amount that is needed, and then some. My God is the God who provides, and I have seen it in beautiful ways! God is always enough... so bring to Him your bread and fishes, and let Him multiply them however He wills.