When you leave for a foreign land, you are acutely aware that you are going to a place that is...well...foreign. The people are different. The language is different. The food is different. The culture is different. That can be quite an imposing situation for your first time in a new country - regardless of how experienced you are in such things.
Our second day began in Mumbai and we were hit square in the face with new culture - specifically a culture in which bribes and extortion are normal practice rather than the exception. Going through customs proved to be a sink-or-swim education in that practice as we were stopped for attempting to bring in "dutiful" items into the country undeclared. We had letters declaring that our goods had no retail value and were being brought in as gifts and donations from a charitable organization to a charitable organization, but that mattered not to the customs agent. A few conversations later, we found out that we could pay $400 in "taxes" to make our problem go away. Of course, there would be no receipt for such taxes you understand. A short trip to the back room and the passing of the cash to one of the guards and we were on our way. Somehow I doubt that cash ever made it into the state coffers.
Mumbai proved to be the most confusing, inefficient, frustrating airports I believe I have ever been in. Before we boarded our transfer to Hyderabad, we were searched and our bags x-rayed at least three times. Our bags were ransacked twice. And we had to show our passport and boarding passes on at least six different occasions if not more. But soon enough (or rather later enough) we finally made it to Hyderabad, met our new friend, Bishop John Nakka, and were on our way by van to Eluru.
Bishop John S.D.R. Nakka
John proved to be a difficult person to communicate with - not because of any character flaw or personality distinction. In fact, he is a very likable man and I have quickly come to call him my friend. However, his English accent is quite difficult for any of us to understand and our Southern drawl proved just as difficult for him to understand. Conversations were labored from the beginning and even after a full day together we still struggle to communicate effectively. Additionally, were were not in the van more than five minutes and he was fast asleep. It turned out that the reason for his sleeping behavior was the fact that he is a diabetic and had been ill all week, but it sort of left us alone with one of John's regional pastors, Job, and with the driver, Ventak, who was not the most chatty individual - although apparently Ventak has a propensity to sing to himself under his breath (for the entire six hour trip). Very quickly my level of uneasiness started to rise...how were we going to manage the week? Were we going to be able to accomplish anything at all while we were her? That was when God taught me a lesson in a very familiar and unexpected way at our first in country meal - breakfast.
Our first adventure in eating was in a small town about an hour outside of Hyderabad called Suryaped. It was a very rural, poor town that time seemed to have forgotten. We had been served breakfast on the plane from Hyderabad to Mumbai, but Bishop John's diabetes required him to stop and eat - so for his sake we stopped to have second breakfast. We ate in the restaurant of the town's local hotel, which was barely a hotel at all and certainly not any place I would ever dare to stop and eat on my own, much less stay overnight - but as it turned out the food was edible after all. We had an onion Dosa, which was pretty good but way too spicy for breakfast.
Sitting at breakfast, though, we began hearing a familiar sound. It took us a moment before we realized what it was. Looking around, we saw across the room a small child playing on a tablet - he was playing Angry Birds. I must admit that was perhaps the very last thing I expected being literally half way around the world from home in a place that was utterly unfamiliar. It reminded me of the flight over from Amsterdam to Mumbai. During that leg, there was a very westernized Indian family sitting right in front of us and their small son spent a greater part of the flight playing Angry Birds as well...and when the battery on his iPad died, he cried because he could not play anymore.
Angry Birds... It became a reminder to me - a reminder that I am using to keep myself centered for the rest of the trip... That is, we are not that different after all. Of course we are different in many many ways as I have already pointed out, but in the ways that it really matters we are not different at all. That little boy in Suryaped is just like every other little boy I know at home. He likes to play. Apparently he likes to play Angry Birds. And of course John and Job and Ventak and everyone else I met this day and all the ones I will meet in the days to come are just like everyone else I know at home as well. They have dreams. They have fears. They get sick. They laugh. They cry. And either they already know Jesus as savior...or they need Jesus as savior...just like everyone else I know at home.
Who would think Angry Birds would be a spiritual reminder to me of our unity in Christ and as a human race? I guess God did when he decided we should eat Dosa for breakfast in the small town of Suryaped in rural India.
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