India travels and a visit to a brothel

It’s about time for an update – I’ve been trying to do this for a few days now and have failed miserably.  Distractions are never limited.  Today I write from Mumbai, India.  Since Calcutta I have traveled to Kathmandu in Nepal, Delhi, and here.  Tuesday I will pack up my little bag once more and return to Bangalore for the final stint of my India travels. I still hate packing my bags.  That hasn’t changed.

It’s been quite the whirlwind.  Part of the reason I’ve put off this writing for so long is because I don’t know where to begin.  Do I write about visiting places that work with people of disabilities in Nepal, or about the random stranger on the plane who shared passionately his preferred life legacy that included photos of men lifting heavy weights and pulling cars with their..ya know, or what about the people who generously open their home to me with a week’s notice, never having met me, I could have been a crazy! 

So – I’ll just write about yesterday.

 Yesterday I visited a brothel for the first time.  I was confused whether or not it was a brothel or apartment complex and realized, it’s basically both.  The same place the women work, is where they sleep, eat and live.  In small boxed off rooms with open doors that never seem to close, and a dingy stool outside for the men who might be waiting.  It’s a strange thing to see.  It’s a sobering thing to see. Similar to the boys living on the train tracks in Calcutta, for whatever reason, walking through the hallways, it seemed every bit normal as it was strange.  Like this was just a normal part of life.  In reality, I was walking through their every day of normal life for the occupants of 90 rooms.

Each room had a wall dividing two beds that were raised to about the height of the stool I’m sitting on now.  When I asked about the kids, I was told the kids often sleep under those beds at night while their mother works.  We prayed over a baby that was sick with a fever, just shy of 30 days of life, this little baby girl had been given to a fellow worker by the mother.  What compassion to take care of someone else’s baby who was unwanted.  Unwanted because her father was a john, a random customer, never to be seen again.  We prayed for the baby because we were asked to, and all I could do was lay my hands on this precious little girl’s stomach, and bow my head before God and pray for light in this broken place.  I felt her little pulse and looked at her tiny frame – Lord, healing, more than just physical – now please.

We continued on to distribute Christmas invitations and a fight broke out between some women.  I could not understand a word, but I could see the anger as others gathered to watch two women yell at one another with disdain.  Just earlier I had seen two kids from a center in the red light area fight with one another, the staff explained that kids see violence in the brothels, and so it is hard to teach otherwise – patience and love are required. 

I’ve seen some of this patience and love acted out in creative ways in each city.  In Calcutta I visited two organizations that help women come out of the trade by teaching life skills and sewing, creating a community of support in the process.  Here in Mumbai there are other places that make jewelry and baked goods.  My current host is even working on the beginnings of an organization that would help with aftercare, having committed long term to a life here.  Still so much love is needed.  Still many woman are trapped in a chamber, and told the lie that they are worth nothing more than what their body can give.  10 days I’m told.  In the beginning, young virgin girls are broken in over 10 days with beatings and rapes that train the body to take the demands and the mind to unravel under the pressure and accept the lie that this is what they are made for.  In time – it becomes what I saw – a seemingly normal part of life to be accepted, a necessary means to an end– but it is not.  It’s injustice.

When will we all stand up and say enough?  Enough.  Enough killings – enough raping of people, minds, the environment.  I should rephrase that, we don’t need to just say enough, to just stand up - we need to walk towards justice.  We can sit and read about this stuff and write about it all we want, but the reality is that the same few minutes that it takes to click through article after article, opinion after opinion, there are millions of people subjected to everyday violence and evils.  There are people with a deficit of love.  For those of us who have been given much, much will be expected (Luke 12:48).  The more I travel and see good work that is being done – the more I am convinced that one of the greatest ways to fight injustice is to love well.  To love immeasurably– not counting the cost as lost, but something gained.  It’s all those paradoxical sayings that we were raised with coming to life.  “When I am weak, then I am strong,” “The first shall be last, the last shall be first.”  “Love your enemies” 

A life that seeks to embody these truths, is a life well lived.  Not easy but worth it.

There is much more I could write, but I wanted to be able to add some photos so without further to do – some photos from my travels.  Hope all is well – nearly a month left in this beautiful country.

Calcutta, India

Flower Market

Girls empowerment class at a center for kids in a slum area

making flowers 

Marble Palace

My host for three weeks, great times!

outside Mother Teresa house

Kathmandu, Nepal 

Met the woman above on the plane and the next day was visiting her center for people with disabilities.

riding through the streets, propane gas is limited with a fuel crisis going on

Visiting some temples

One of the unexpected gifts of the travels has been visiting friends in different parts of the world.  Pramil graduated a year earlier from me and now works with Samaritan's Purse in Nepal.

temples

Sundar Dhoka - amazing place, church started by the marginalized in Nepal

They walk through these and pray as they touch them.

Delhi, India

Center for kids with disabilities.  This woman named Pramila started Samadhan many years ago and it is thriving.

She wanted me to take her photo like this, it's her pose.

My lovely host in Delhi who along with her husband and two boys made me feel welcome and at home.

I met Tiya in Turkey and she was amazing at connecting me to people in the city over the short four days I was there.  Will hopefully see her again in Bangalore!

Mumbai (Bombay), India

First night here we had "friendsgiving" and sat on top of the roof.

 

One of my lovely hosts here (taylor) who agreed to let me stay without knowing me.  CHRISTMAS IS ALMOST HERE>

 One month left and can hardly wait to see family and friends back home for a bit before....the next steps.  :)