Sunday - Long and lots of God-stuff

You may recall that, when I was still visiting Vindya at the sisuvihar, we met a documentary film maker who invited us to tour "the real India," the countryside. He had told us to call him on Saturday to arrange something for Sunday. We didn't do this the first week, as Meri and LiJun were moving around, but last Saturday, I was seriously going to go stir-crazy, so I gave him a call. His name is Rufus, he is a university professor who has spent some time in the US. He was happy to arrange something, and we agreed that he would pick Vindya and me up Sunday morning.

Rufus picked us up in his old car, and we set out. He explained that we were going to stop at his house, meet his daughters, and pick up his wife. He lives out near the airport, in a partially completed house in a new neighborhood. Building here is like in Slovakia or Jamaica - bricks coated with cement, and most of the building done by the homeowner, rather than building contractors. He said that they had lived in the city until about a year ago, but it was a small apartment with no view and no air, and very dirty. They moved out to the edge of town, but he said in another 10 years, it will be equally crowded where they are.

They are living on the ground floor, which is the only one finished. There are two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, a living room, an office, and a porch area. The floors above are about twice as large, and provide a large covered area out front, where they sometimes eat or sleep, to avoid the heat. The entire house is surrounded by a high wall. There is room for a small yard, but it isn't planted with anything, and is currently dirt and building debris. The plan is to finish the first floor and the family will move up and rent out the ground floor. There is a second floor roughed in above, and they will eventually finish that and move up again, renting out the two lower floors. However, since Rufus does all the work himself, this is a slow process.

We met his three daughters and two of his nieces, who were visiting. They were all very nice girls, between about 13 and 20. They all spoke English quite well, and were studying in the more academic schools. The oldest, Lisa, had just finished a university degree in pharmacy, and is considering studying for a master's degree.

We collected Rufus's wife (whose name I have managed to forget), and set off. We were on a rather large road, very like an interstate. There were about four lanes each way, and it was divided with a wall between directions. However, there were very few cars on it. I figured that this was because it was Sunday, and we were headed for the countryside.

After we drove about 10 minutes, the car died. We kind of drifted over to the side of the road and waited for a while, and then it started up again. This happened about three times, and then it wouldn't start at all. Rufus got out and opened the hood and did something, but it didn't help. He apologized, and said that we would need to postpone our trip. He and his wife talked back and forth for a while, and then he made a call on his mobile. We waited for about half an hour, and then two men showed up in another car.

They were friends of Rufus, and we all transferred to their car, leaving his on the side of the road. The cheerfully did a u-turn, and we headed off back against traffic. Even for India, this seemed a bit foolhardy, but when I asked, Rufus assured me that it was OK. This road was not yet officially open, which is why there were so few cars. Since there weren't many, going the wrong way wasn't a problem.

We eventually pulled off by making another u-turn just past an exit and taking it. We went to a gas station to fill up. In India, as you pull into the station, you are met by four attendants who surround your car and guide you into the correct spot next to the pump. Then, the driver and one of the attendants discuss how much gas is wanted. The driver pays this attendant however much, say 300 rupees. This attendant informs a second one what the amount was. He enters the amount into a keypad on the pump, and pumps exactly that amount into the car. In the meantime, the other two attendants are washing the windshield and brushing off the rest of the car with giant feather-duster things. We gave them 300 rupees, then another 200 rupees, and then another 100 to get the gas gauge to where the driver wanted it. The whole thing was somewhat surreal. I was reminded of Slovakia - more employment, even where it doesn't create value, is preferred to greater efficiency.

We went back to Rufus's house and spent the rest of the day there. Vindya had a wonderful time. Once she got over her shyness, she was quite chatty with the girls. Lisa, the oldest, asked her lots of questions for me. I got the names of her friends at the sisuvihar, and the meanings of some of the sign language she has been using that I haven't understood. She said that her very best friend was Mala. They sleep together, eat together and go to school together, and she wants to go back and bring her along. She didn't seem to understand at all that I am permanent, and not simply going to drop her back at the sisuvihar in a few days.

The girls played games with her. The biggest hit was that they made her up - eyeshadow, blush, lipstick and fingernail polish. Then she wanted henna, so one of them ran to the local store and came back with a paper cone. She poked the tip with a pin, and used it to squeeze out henna paste and draw designs on Vindya's hands and arms.

While this was going on, I chatted with Rufus. He is a Mennonite, and asked if I were a Christian. Of course, I said yes. We had a little theological discussion, and he gave me a book to read. It was by Max Lucado, who is more conservative than I, but it was a study on David that had some interesting insights, so I thought it was worth it. Rufus also told me that he was scheduled to preach today, and he and his wife had been concerned about why God had allowed the car to break down, which it doesn't do normally. They had decided that it was so that Vindya had the opportunity to talk to people and spend time with them.

I was watching with somewhat more concern as she just lit up. She sang, she did little dances, she talked and talked and talked. At lunch, she ate much more than I have ever seen her eat in the past. I crossed my fingers that the whole thing didn't degenerate.

Rufus is a professional photographer. He does a lot of the official press pool photographs for the AP government. When President Bush was here, Rufus was the only Indian photographer in the pool. He showed me his White House Press Pool pass, and told me that fo such an important occasion, he and his congregation prayed and fasted for three days to think of an appropriate gift. He had a vision directing him to make President Bush's portrait in seeds. He did this with natural color variants, except for the blue in the American flag, which he had to dye. He showed me some other clippings, in which this portrait was shown prominently displayed at the White House, and mentioned as one of the things that President Bush asked to take back to Texas with him when he left office.

We left at the end of the day, and when we got back to the hotel, I got out of the car, and Vindya cheerfully waved goodbye to me. We all explained that she had to come with me, but she refused. Everyone got out of the car, but she wouldn't. I got in, and she slip away from me. I kept scooting over, and she finally had no choice but to get out. She had a massive meltdown, screaming (in Telugu) that she wanted to go with them. We couldn't calm her down, and I finally said goodbye to everyone, picked her up and carried her up to the room. She absolutely raged and screamed and had a huge fit for about two hours, but finally fell asleep.

Rufus called me Monday. He said that they were all very concerned that they had upset Vindya, and hoped she was better. I explained about her being confused and having to get used to the idea that I am her mother. He seemed to get it, and invited us to stop by his office, but only after a few days. (His office is near the Lutheran center, which I have yet to visit.)

Vindya was fine and cheerful when she woke up Monday morning. I think that she is kind of spiraling around this - having to readjust to me, and then thinking that she will go elsewhere, and then settling in more, over and over. I don't know that no one at the sisuvihar tried to explain this to her, but it doesn't seem to me that they did a good job at all.