Email: John Stanger

Hello Travelers in Spirit,

Mumbai

After the horrible attacks on Mumbai many people expressed their concern for the other volunteers and  me. Your concern means a lot to me, and I ask that you continue to pray for those directly impacted by the attacks, the attackers, and the governments of India and Pakistan.

I feel like I should begin by assuring you that I feel as safe here as I ever have in the States. India is an incredibly diverse country with over 20 official languages whose cultures and peoples are as distinct as the languages they speak. Unlike Mumbai, a huge, cosmopolitan metropolis in the state of Maharashtra, I am living in Kottayam, Kerala. I feel incredibly secure in Kottayam, a city of about 60,000 people, venturing into new neighborhoods on my own (a morning-walk favorite) and do not have even a single story of hostility directed at me for being a Westerner/Northerner/American.

It is for this reason that the travel advisories from the United States and some European countries against traveling to India distress me. In no way do the attacks reflect the atmosphere of Kerala, other parts of India, and even Mumbai usually. As with traveling anywhere, you must simply be cautious and aware. There is always risk. But should that fear keep us from exploring the world? I don’t believe it should. It is evident that our Mumbai, New York City, has survived attacks of its own, and I plan to visit there one day as well. I hope that when we speak of other nations we do not generalize a country as “dangerous” with a tone of superiority, but are careful to speak of specific regions facing conflict (instead of an entire nation of more than 1 billion people).

Thanksgiving

The morning India woke to learn about the violence in Mumbai was also Thanksgiving Day. On that day, the volunteers traveled by train south to Trivandrum (Thiruvananthapuram), Kerala’s capital, for our November retreat. Thanksgiving, possibly my favorite holiday because of its pressure-free and (largely) commercial-free nature, brought a mixture of emotions. Although we had been promised pumpkin pie, I was skeptical of how much a single pie could make the day actually feel like Thanksgiving. There was no way around the fact that none of us had family, cold weather, or turkey to celebrate with. After we arrived in Trivandrum, visited the much-too-touristy beach, and got cleaned up, we met for “Thanksgiving” dinner in the hotel’s dining room. Well, they sure showed us.

With Kochamma’s direction, the kitchen staff had conjured up roast chickens,  potatoes, something yellow that tasted as much like a sweet potato as possible without being one, real stuffing, tomato and cucumber salad, delicious soup, and pumpkin pie with ice cream. It really tasted like Thanksgiving! What meant the most to me, however, was the amount of effort, preparation, and love that went into that meal. None of the dishes we were served (other than the rice and chicken curry, which none of us could reconcile with the rest of the courses) are typical Kerala cuisine. Far from it. All said and done, this Thanksgiving may be the most memorable one I’ll have for the rest of my life. And of course, before eating we discussed what we were thankful for. My gratitude was for all of those supporting me; I am reminded daily that this passage is far from a solitary one; family, friends, and most importantly, Christ are journeying with me.

Personal space
           
Something it didn’t take long to notice upon arriving in Kerala was the difference in the size of peoples personal “bubbles.” Coming from the United States, I felt like my imaginary protective barrier was constantly punctured until I finally had to admit defeat and put it away. Busses may be where the lack of personal physical space is most evident; I am often making contact with up to four people at a time. What is worst is when contact is made in the more “off-limits” areas of another person’s body. Oh, yes, it happens. One day I was sure that a woman would turn around to pummel me after my repeated, unintentional contact.

Another place my idea of personal space had to contract is in hotels. When all the tables in a hotel are full, you simply join another table. For instance, if I am dining alone at a four-person table, it is completely acceptable for a family of three to join me. When I first made mental note of this difference in cultural boundaries, I almost laughed aloud at the idea of eating out with my parents at El Toro and a single person placing themselves in the fourth seat since there was obviously room.

Physical contact between individuals is also often amped up a bit. When conversing, or even meeting someone for the first time, why not hold his or her hand the entire time. I can remember those people I’d meet at home who would shake hands for an uncomfortably long time. I’m afraid I’ve become one of them. 

I’m not sure what the cause is, but I venture to guess it is largely a result of the increased population density here versus home. Also, because of our wealth, we are able to make lifestyle choices (e.g. forgoing public transportation for our entire lives) that allow us to comfort our sense of individualism and self-reliance. What I’ve learned is that Americans have come to expect an absurd amount of physical, and often psychological, distance from one another. Like many things, over time this augmented amount of personal space has begun to be understood as a right instead of a luxurious privilege.

As people who believe that all are made in the image of a relational, Triune God, what is it that they find offensive about another’s presence at our dinner table? As people who are taught to welcome the stranger, why do we distance ourselves as much as possible?

Happy holidays

Since you won’t hear from me until January, I should wish you all happy holidays, including a merry Christmas, a happy New Year, and whatever other festivities you celebrate. Holidays away from family are admittedly difficult here, but the volunteers will be traveling to Andhra Pradesh, another state in South India, to spend Christmas with children at an orphanage run by Achen’s sister. I expect it to be a more rewarding, meaningful Christmas than I’ve ever had, and I look forward to sharing it with you. 

Hope you are all doing well. I’d love to hear from you. Just understand that my responses are often delayed because of my erratic Internet access.

Love,

John Stanger