A Day in the Life

Every morning I awaken to the sounds of another day. Construction, loud Hindi music, horns galore honking constantly, and men calling out from bicycle rickshaws advertising whatever they may be selling.

I dress myself in my kurta, pants, & dupatta, adjusting the dupatta a number of times before finally feeling like its not going to fall off. I pull my hair back into a ponytail attempting a different style each day in an effort to change it up a bit. Each day I feel a little more comfortable in what I'm wearing.

On a good day I'm able to spend some time in God's Word, and sometimes begin fixing some chai for the family and maybe some cinnamon-sugar roti with some type of fruit so that we can gather around our new table and grab a quick bite to eat.

I get the girls ready for whatever happens to be on the agenda that day and we head out. Immediately upon stepping outside, I see the dust flying through the air as it was awoken from the streets very early in the morning by the business that takes place each day. Bicycle rickshaws are already busy and people are traveling to and fro by foot, bike, scooter, car, rickshaw, and the occasional buffalo cart. We say good morning to our landlord and then to our neighbors, MooMoo & MaMa (a calf and mama cow).

We begin walking down the dusty street, our feet already beginning to show the grime that we will encounter that day. We stop a bicycle rickshaw and give him the name of a destination. The girls hop on first, facing backward where they are able to enjoy the sights behind us. I step up, sometimes remembering to gather my dupatta so it will not get caught in the wheel. More times than not, I forget.

Among my first thoughts are always, "I can't believe I'm really living this out!" And "I wish so & so could experience this!" The girls are a constant chatter, naming animals as we pass them and waving hello to each one. I smile and thank God for the amazing experiences they are having. Then, I snap back to reality and remember I have to tell this driver how to get where I need to go! I often let him pass my turn before I remember to tap his shoulder and point left or right.

Riding down the busy street on a rickshaw means ALL eyes are on you. People literally stop and gaze at the American and often nudge their friends to get a glimpse. Most welcome with smiles when they can pick their chin up off the ground. I smile and sometimes offer a 'namaste' to the women I pass.

By now, I've probably been told that my dupatta is dragging at least a couple of times and I smile and nod as I gather it back before it gets covered in dust, mostly laughing at myself and thinking that nothing goes unnoticed when you stick out like a sore thumb among millions.

I pass mounds of trash, dirty water, and typically a number of cows, puppies, or pigs grazing through the trash looking for something to eat. If its a longer ride, I pass homes made of tents or sheet metal or whatever is available where people are laying on cots, children are often unclothed, and many are working hard hammering metal and welding it into shape hoping to sell a good today in an effort to feed their family. Young children can be seen frying roti over an open flame and we dodge toddlers who are running much too close to the busy street. Intermixed are food carts, vegetables for sale, shrines, and laundry being hung to dry. I may even spot someone relieving himself wherever he chooses along the busy highway.

By now, I've attempted to tune out the sounds of I don't know how many deafening blaring horns. The larger the vehicle the louder the horn. The sound threatens to unnerve me but with each passing day I think I'm growing more accustomed to the constant noise. There's never a dull moment and we come much too close to accidents more times than I can count. I hold my girls close, silently thanking God that they know their birthdays and their age (many people here do not) and yet get the amazing opportunity to experience more than a DVD player in the car on a safe road in America.

If we happen to be visiting in homes, we arrive at our destination and pay the rickshaw driver his wage then begin walking down brick-laden streets weaving in and out of concrete slabs for homes. We do the spin move multiple times as I hold the girls' hands on my left or my right depending on which side of me the traffic is on. Once again, we stop traffic with our fair skin, eyes constantly gazing on us. A few prayers have already been lifted for the people of this particular community and we are quickly invited into a home for chai. Before we can be seated a large crowd has gathered, everyone just staring as I begin to speak. "Apca nam quia hai?" "Mira nam Angel hai." "Ap quesa hai?" "Mai tik hoo". By this point I've exhausted the majority of the language I know. With an interpreter I'm able to share with the people hoping for some type of a response. We leave after being begged to stay for a meal and being invited to please come again.

The girls and I head back home chattering about the best parts of our day and theirs usually include the numerous animals we've spotted. As I hop back on a rickshaw for my ride back home I realize that my positive outlook (given to me only by God's grace) may have caused me to make living here almost seem glamorous and I'm reminded by the sights, sounds and smells assaulting me and often taking my breath away, that it is the farthest thing from glamorous. And then, I'm thankful that I enjoy adventure and love a good challenge and wishing I could adequately portray this place in pictures and with words.

We arrive home, scurry up to our first floor (meaning second floor) flat and the girls remind me not to look into the eyes of the monkeys that are sitting on our porch as if they are our very own Welcome Home committee.

At some point everyday something reminds me of home and I remember that this is long term. That always spurs a mix of emotions and I would be foolish to say that I don't get homesick every day. But at the same time, I am reminded that I was made for this and that I have been blessed with the most amazing support system and I quickly jump back into the joy of what's happening here.

I spend the rest of the day washing dishes, doing laundry, cooking, cleaning, or reading with/playing with the girls and then at the end of the night begin to wind down in order to do it all again tomorrow. But instead of the same ol' same ol', it's always a brand new adventure awaiting us!