Jun7

Post 82. Daughters of Kings

Posted on by
Standard
Image

Our first visitors- Phil Maxwell and Dudley Reed

We had some money, which was for setting up house, getting an overhead projector and other things we would need in the North.   God told us to give it to the church in Goa, which we did.  We stayed quietly in the background and within a few weeks there were deep apologies and wonderful forgiveness flowed in all directions.  Our relationships had been healed and it was more than we expected.  God had done an amazing thing and taught us that running away was not the answer when we were in the fire.  Fire was something to go through, not around.

In February 1992, Dudley Reed, Phil Maxwell and Rigby came to visit us.  They were our first visitors.  We were so excited.  Tony met them in Delhi.  God had talked to us about being in a place near to the source of the Ganga River.  Dehra Dun seemed to be the place so they thought they would look there first.  They met with some people and booked what seemed to be a good place for our family to stay.

From there they travelled to Mussoorie in the foothills of the Himalayas.  It was a small town perched on a mountain, thirty-five kilometres North of Dehra Dun and 7,000 feet above sea level.  While they were there, they visited an Irish couple, James and Willi Barton, who we had met when they were on holiday in Goa.  They had invited us to visit them at Woodstock International School where James was principal.  While it was a Christian School, there were 60% Hindu, Sikh, Muslim and children of businessmen.   35% were nominal Christians.  It seemed that God was at work.  They also hinted that there was a need for a new vibrant Christian community there.  Over a meal, Willi mentioned that two princesses had become believers and Priyanka Gandhi (Rajiv and Sonia Gandhi’s daughter) had recently visited the school.

Years before arriving in India, Tony had been praying for “Daughters of Kings” while reading Psalm 45.  He prayed and cried for Rajiv Gandhi’s daughter not even knowing that he had one.  Now he knew her name was Priyanka. *

It had been along day.  Tony was reading through the Bible in a year so he quickly opened it up to the chapter he was on just before going to sleep.  Now, years later, he read the same Psalm;  Psalm 45.  He knew we had to be in Mussoorie.  The other men felt the same.  The next day they booked “Morning Glory.”  It was a small one roomed, furnished cottage at The Firs, near Chaar Dukhaan.  We were so glad that this huge decision wasn’t made independently and so grateful that Dudley, Phil and Rigby were there with us.

While Tony was in Mussoorie, I stayed in Goa with the girls.  The ladies on their verandas couldn’t understand why I was missing my husband so much.

During that time I read, “God Meant it for Good” by R.T. Kendall.   Something he said was, “Home is not a where but a when.  It is when you find yourself in the perfect will of God.  You can be in a place that can hardly be regarded as home and feel totally at home. You can be somewhere that is regarded as “home” and feel homesick and lost.  So, home is God’s will.  Home is where you are at ease and completely happy. It is an internal condition.”  It was the perfect book for that season in our lives; quite profound actually.

Image

Rig in our big bed with Tony and our girls

Rigby, Phil and Dudley came to Goa with Tony and we had such fun showing them around.  The girls loved Rig’s “Sydney the Slimy Snake” stories.  They didn’t give him much rest the whole time he was with us.

Our six-month visas had run out.  On the 1st March we flew out to Dhaka, Bangladesh to renew them.   How many weeks or months the Indian Embassy would give us was something we wondered a lot about.   Dhaka was difficult.  Riding along on a cycle rickshaw, face-to-face with badly deformed beggars was very hard.  They were very aggressive and persistent and pulled on us and shouted when we didn’t give them money.  Seeing so many people with huge goitres and growths was sad and disturbing.  We couldn’t protect Ash and Zoe from the pain, no matter how much we wanted to.

We didn’t have any contacts in Dhaka, so after looking at some very derelict budget hotels, we made the decision to stay in a five-star hotel.  There was no way we could afford it but we felt we had no option. We felt vulnerable with our girls.   It was a frustrating time.  After three days of being pulled and pushed in all directions, we couldn’t wait to get back to India.

We arrived back in Goa with one-month entry visas.  That meant we had one month to convince Home Affairs in Delhi that they should give us minimum one to maximum five-year visas.  If they refused, we were out.  We needed a miracle.

* See Post 74

Jun6

Post 81. Bed of nails

Posted on by
Standard

We were almost completely un-contactable.  The shop down the road had a phone and we gave our family and friends that number to get in touch with us.  If anyone did phone, we never got the message. There were no fax machines, no cell phones and the postal system was chronic.  Letters started coming in the mail very slowly and there was an occasional call home.  We started to feel cut off and realised soon afterwards that it was just the beginning of our “bed of nails” experience.

“First Sunday morning: 

I feel like everything of home has gone.  I am undone and needy.  Seems that the past is so far way.  I need to start all over again.  I need to fellowship with God.  Oh Lord, I am desperate for you and I really need encouragement.”

Our plan was to be involved with the church for six months, learning and serving and then make our way up North.  We were helping out at the training centre with meals and loved spending time with the young people.  We thought we had spelt out our plans very clearly but things got a bit tense with some of the leaders and it all came to a head.   We had only been there a couple of months and we had no idea where it was coming from or what had set it off.

It was a tough day and many things were said to us in anger.  God kept encouraging us, “ When you are in the fire, listen for anything that I may be saying.”   Tony kept hearing God saying,  “Just close your mouth.  I don’t want you to say a word to defend yourself.”  A tough call.  We tried to listen for anything that may have been true; hiding behind the unnecessary words.  Well, we did hear things and we wanted to run, but that night, Tony and I both knew that running wasn’t an option. There was nowhere to go.  We had to stay, humble ourselves, serve and keep giving everything we had.

While we were lying in bed, holding on to each other more tightly than we had ever done, the question He asked us was, “If you never heard from another friend ever again, would you still be totally happy with me?  I want you to get to a place of not depending on anyone or anything that should be found in me.  I have everything you need.  You can find all your heart’s desires in me.  I am taking you through these things so you can begin to find me and all that I am. There is a lot about me that you still have no idea about.  If you don’t go through everything joyfully and teachably they will remain hidden.”

We both felt that our answer was yes.  If we never heard from another friend or family member, we would be ok.   We were there for and with God and that would have to be enough.

We had come from a full, busy life in Johannesburg.  The Holy Spirit was moving and doing amazing things.  Now we had been told we weren’t allowed to pray for people or minister in anyway.  As we lay there He dropped another one.  “ If you never did another day of ministry would you be happy just with me?”  Our answer was, “Yes.”

We realised then how much of our security had come from what we did.  If all that went, what would be left of “us”?  He showed us areas of spiritual pride and started to deal with some deep things.

“Oh Lord, all this humility is killing me.  I feel like I know nothing.  Do I need to die to all the words, the dreams the visions that you have given to me?  So you can raise them to life? I am fragile and weepy, weak and humbled.  I want to learn quickly so that this can be over soon.”

“Such discouragement and hopelessness; Weeping on and off.  Missing fellowship, friends and family.  So despairing.“ 

“In a land far away from all shelter and care, I find you there.”

We knew that our “bed of nails” experience had just begun.  We were devastated and wanted to get up, but there was more.  Isobel Kuhn, a missionary to China was told by a returning missionary that, “When your feet touch the shores of China, the scum of your nature will come to the surface.”

Things in South Africa were so good.  Everyone who knew us loved us.  We had never had a clash with anyone.  We were broken and not sure how or when we would mend.  A few things we determined before we fell asleep that night:

No matter how difficult things got, there was no way we were going to run away.  We would stay, love, serve and give until the time came for us to leave.  We would paint the house any colour anyone wanted it coloured.  One day we would have our own house and we would paint it any colour we wanted to.  That was exciting.  That was something to look forward to.

Jun5

Post 80. Wheels

Posted on by
Standard

Image

Asha:  Hello.  I like my new bedroom.  Daddy made us a swing.  There are lots of beggars here.  At first I was scared of them, but now I look at them.  Daddy and I took some food to town and we gave some to a lady and her baby and a man with no feet.  I felt sad because he had no money to buy more.  I got scared when I saw a man whipping himself in the street.  He doesn’t know Jesus.  I have also started to get scared of Hindu music.  Outside our house in Bombay, a mommy left her baby in a plastic bag in the gutter.  Everyone was looking.  I didn’t.  I felt very sad and mommy had a pain in her heart.  I like school and I like to write.  I also like to sing this song, “Love is a flag flown high on the castle of my heart, there are flies in the sky let the whole world know.”  I like doing concerts for mom and dad and Zoë.  We have fun.  We can also walk to the shop.  Our children’s church is nice but it’s so hot and I get thirsty.  I miss all my friends and I’m getting bored at home.  I went to sleep the other night and Zoë was tickling my face.  When I woke up I had blue pen all over it. 

Image

Zoë: Hello.  I am very happy and I laugh and play all the time.  I have also been a bit naughty.  It doesn’t matter ‘cause I little.  I got a wooden spoon called a “Bum Woody” and it can be sore but sometimes I laugh.  I love to play with onions and garlic.  The paper comes off nicely.  I’m “itsy” all over from sweating.  I’m a good girl now.  I don’t cry at children’s church.  The people pinch my cheeks all the time in the street. Sometimes it hurts.   I just shout and say, “No! Don’t tuts me!”  In Bombay a little girl in the street bit me and another one smacked me.  When mommy blew my nose it was black because the cars smoke.  It is very hard for me not to do naughty things.  I look and look and it looks so nice and I have to do it.  I am trying to be good.  Sometimes my monkey does things, but mommy says he doesn’t.”

Ash and Zoe with their Goan friends

Ash and Zoe with their Goan friends

We thought we would see how Ash would do at school.  We put her into the one that was attached to the church.  She looked so cute in her red, white and blue uniform.  It was shocking to learn how much 3½ year olds needed to know just to get into the school system.  They knew the alphabet, how to write it and numbers 1- at least 20, as well as the names of plants, animals, parts of the body and Indian festivals.  They also did exams, which put a lot of pressure on them and their families. We spoke to the headmistress and they agreed that Asha could do what she was comfortable with.  Within a few weeks of her attending school I wrote: “Asha is becoming sort of ‘wild’.  The Goan kids are very much like that so she’s probably copying them.  It is hard to cope with. She’s teasing Zoë all the time.  They are squabbling constantly.  They are driving me mad!!”

We got a bit of conjunctivitis, which was going around the community.  One in thirty people had it in Goa.  They called it “sore eyes” which was an appropriate description.   Apart from that we were all very healthy and got plenty of exercise walking around the town and market. It was like a gym circuit and we were exhausted by the time we got home.  Zoë put on 2kgs in a month, which was amazing for her!  The girl’s favourite was going on taxi motorbikes.  Tony would go on one with Ash and I would go on the other with Zoë.

One day we were in a shop and a funeral went past.  The music was so loud and so sad.  Everyone stopped and stood still in respect of the dead person.  When the music stopped, Zoë went to the door and shouted, “Don’t do that again!”  We had a quiet laugh.

After three months we made another twenty-hour train trip. This time it was to Bombay to pick up our second-hand, blue and grey, four-wheel drive, Gypsy jeep. We were so excited.   It took us sixteen hours to drive 670kms back to Goa.  We did an average of 40km per hour. The National Highways were a nightmare; hairpin bends, potholes, demonised bus drivers and fatalistic truck drivers all added to the chaos.

Visiting friends in Goa

Visiting friends in Goa

We were happy that we would be able to visit our Goan friends in their villages and not have to worry about trying to get a bus back in the middle of the night with two sleeping children.  Once we had waited for an hour to get a bus.  There was only standing room on the steps but I managed to force my way in to the second row holding onto Zoe.  There was only room for one foot so I leant against all the bodies around me as I balanced on one leg.   Zoë let everyone know that they were “skossing” her.  The driver was obviously on a mission to get home and so were we.

When the Watkinson kids, John, Esther and Grace, came home for the holidays we had lots of fun.  We would pile all the kids into the jeep and head down to the beach.   Tony loved being able to drive along the sand and in and out of the waves while the kids screamed their heads off in the back.   Once, while we were all relaxing and getting some sun, a fighter jet flew really low and started firing blanks into the sand as if we were it’s targets.  All the kids fell to the ground as if they had been hit.  They lay dead still until the plane disappeared.  Just like that and just another day on the beach in Goa.

Lying on our bed one night, after a particularly nice day in Goa, Ash made a comment.  “God has worked so hard for us hey?  God has done all the work”.   With happy hearts, we all totally agreed.

Jun4

Post 79. Three headed chicken

Posted on by
Standard
Goan friends

Goan friends

Goa was such a beautiful place; coconut palms everywhere, green paddy fields, lush vegetation and the people were so laid back. We weren’t far from the beach but we had to catch an auto-rickshaw to get there.  When we were on the beach, it was difficult for the girls to do anything.  People were fascinated with the two little blond girls and wanted to pick them up and take photos with them.  They got so upset at one point when they were trying to build a sandcastle.  We had all had enough of the attention.  Tony started telling people we charged Rs 1,000 per photo.  They soon disappeared.

We started to collect household goods and kitchen utensils. We stocked up on our food supplies and I learnt to cook all over again.  I had never used a pressure cooker and I was terrified. All the Goan ladies told me that I had to have one for lentils and tough meat, so I got one.   Mabel sent her house-helper to show me how to use it.

One day, Tony came home with a small black plastic bag and handed it to me saying, “Here babe, it’s still pumping!”   I was used to frozen chicken, not warm, pumping chicken straight from the butcher.   I tipped it into the bowl and tried not to touch it.  It tumbled out with its pale, boiled head still attached; eyes, beak and all.    I closed my eyes and chopped it off.  I felt so brave.  Then I saw that many innards were hanging out of its other end.  I wasn’t sure which end was worse.  I put my hand inside and pulled out two more heads and lots of other extra bits.  A three headed, two livered, three hearted chicken; surely not.   I went across to ask Melba.  She said it was to make it weigh more.  It took some time for me to gather the courage to keep going.  When I finished cleaning it, I propped it up on the chopping board.  Asha, had watched the whole process with big eyes.  She made me laugh when she said, “Look mom, it’s sitting like an old lady!”

“There are a few things to get used to here-

Boiling water to drink.

Boiling milk to drink.

Bathing from a bucket with a jug. 

Squatting over the Indian toilet.

Constant power failures and the heat that come with them. 

No transport (packed buses and walking to get autorickshaws) 

Our brightly coloured house.

Wet toilet seats from the bum spray. 

Stale chocolates.

Washing dishes under running water in a sink without a plug. 

Blocked drains.

Sorting through rice with weevils and sticks and stones.

No telephone.

Our neighbours were very friendly and very nosey, especially about foreigners.  If you were white you were a hippy, drug user and had lots of money.   They wanted to know everything about us.  The girls and I would go for little walks in the afternoons.  The ladies on their verandas were ready for me.  “Have you prepared your dinner?”   If I said, “No, not yet”, they would ask in a tsk-tsk tone, “Why not?  You are taking a walk when your food isn’t ready? You aren’t looking after your children and your husband?”  When the subject of their husbands came up the response was always the same.  “Let them stay in the Middle East.  When they come here they just drink and make our lives miserable.  We can’t wait for them to go back again.”

Siestas were so good!  Everything and everyone shut down after lunch so we were forced to rest after lunch.  There was only movement after 4pm and then life built up to a frenzy and stayed that way until about 11pm.  Children would be up and about all night and get up early in the morning for school.  I could never figure out how it worked for them.  I also wondered how parents got adult time together.  They didn’t seem to be too bothered about that.

Ash and Zo with their little friends.

Ash and Zo with their little friends.

A lady from our community offered to teach us Hindi.   It was relaxed so we didn’t get very far.  The girls picked up a few words here and there and we made up a number rhyme for them:

“Ek, do, tiin, chaar, panch

Once I caught a fish for lunch

Chay, saat, aath, nau, das

Then I ate it on the grass”

Well, at least we could all count to ten.

Jun3

Post 78. Adjusting to our new home

Posted on by
Standard

We moved in with our new friends Duncan and Vasanti Watkinson until we found a place of our own.  Dudley Reed and Tony had stayed with them during their survey trip.   He wasn’t sure what impression he had made on them.    In the middle of the night, Tony did a bit of sleep walking in his jockeys.  Duncan was still awake and met him in the passage outside his bedroom.  He very gently turned Tony around and led him back to his room.  They didn’t know each other at all so it was a bit awkward the next day at the breakfast table.  Tony vaguely remembered it but didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone.   He could only imagine what would have happened if Duncan hadn’t been awake.

Asha turned four on the 21st September.  We had a party for her and her new little Goan friends.  She loved it.  We got her a brightly coloured cake from the local bakery.  It was Rs 90.00.  On our train trip we had seen an advertisement: Abortions: Rs 90.00.  The life of a baby was valued at the same price as a child’s birthday cake.

Flat in Goa

Flat in Goa

Within a week we found a two bedroomed, semi-furnished flat in Borda.  It was on the first  floor, right behind St Joiaquin Chapel.  The landlord interrogated us and asked if we were hippies.  We said no and took the keys.  It was so lovely to be in our own house. The heavy furniture was very dark Goan style.  Tony put up a little wooden plank swing in the doorway off the lounge and onto the veranda.  The kitchen was green, our fridge was blue, the plastic veggie rack was pink and to add a bit more colour, the sink was a bright turquoise.  We had two toilets; a western toilet/shower room and also an Indian one. The first time I held the girls over an Indian one they were terrified and closed their eyes through the whole ordeal.   It didn’t take them long to get used to it.

Ash whispering into Zoe's mouth.

Ash whispering into Zoe’s mouth.

Tony and I had a HUGE, very creepy, four-poster bed. It was so high that the girls couldn’t climb up without help.  I could hardly get onto it.  Their room was just across the passage and they were sharing a mattress on the floor.  We got them a little plastic table and chairs and they were all set up with their toys and books.  When they lay on their mattress they could see us on our big bed, across the passage.

One morning Asha asked us, “Who were those people around your bed last night?  They wouldn’t let me come to you.”  She described a lady with a long dress and long hair.  She was really scared and we knew it was some kind of demonic presence.  We prayed with her and it didn’t happen again but it added to her fear.

With all the travelling, Zoë had been a bit unsettled and miserable. She was crying a lot at night, not listening and being cheekier than usual.  Once we moved into our own place and she had some firm boundary lines around her, she was much happier.

Melba with the girls

Melba with the girls

Goa is predominantly a Catholic state and we were right in the middle of a very Catholic community.  Melba was our neighbour on the first floor.  Her hair was a lovely grey and she had a very kind face.  She became like a grandmother to the girls.  When we opened our door, she opened hers. Ash and Zo went in and out between the lounges with armfuls of toys and dolls.  They put them all over her lounge and had tea parties with all kinds of Goan goodies.  Melba’s husband was working in Abu-Dhabi as were many of the men from that area.  She had a little chipmunk called Chappa, which she kept in a cage.  He was quite aggressive and would jump against the cage and wee on her if she didn’t give him food on time.  The girls found him very funny.

Zoe and Rosey

Zoe and Rosey

We were surrounded by pig, rooster, cow, dog and cat noises. Ash woke up one morning and asked “ Mommy, why at night when we’re sleeping is there ‘woof woof , meow meow, cockadoodle- doo and talk talk?” Rosey and Melvin lived in a labourers hut just opposite our house.  They were poor and didn’t mix with the likes of Melba and the others who lived near them.  Asha and Zoë played with them in their cleanly swept dirt garden for hours.  Rosey was about sixteen and she worked in the houses in that area.  Melvin was nine and had a very big tummy and was very small for his age.  He loved coming to our house to practice his English and hear about Jesus.  When they went to church, they weren’t allowed to sit on the chairs like the other people who lived in the flats.  They sat outside and had to be very quiet.  When the statue of Mary came around to all the houses, it never went to Rosey and Melvin’s hut. They were poor and never expected it to.

It was shocking to find out that 50 percent of Goans were alcoholics.   Their pubs and bars pride themselves with names such as, “The Miraculous Jesus Bar,” or “Mary the Immaculate Pub.”  Shorty was a little man who drank from morning until night.  He would get really drunk and walk along the path in front of our flat, shouting and throwing stones at anyone or anything in his way.  He had a really gruff voice, which was way too big for his body.  We only ever saw him in tiny shorts and a dirty white vest.  His face was swollen and his legs were really skinny.  Ash and Zo had mixed feelings about him.  They would rush to the veranda to see him and hide when they saw him coming.  Zoe wrote a sweet letter to him with a drawing.  She hid it away in case he found it.

May31

Post 77. Poofy devil

Posted on by
Standard

The girls loved to look over the balcony of the flat.  There was always something interesting to talk about.  We would hold them up and they hung onto the wall to look down onto the street.

One day we heard someone beating on a drum so we ran to the balcony to see what was going on.    A young man was walking past with just a piece of cloth wrapped around his waist and his face painted orange.  He was whipping himself with a huge heavy whip and screaming and shouting.  An old lady was following him beating a drum.  The whip made a huge cracking sound.  Zoe said, ”That’s a poofy devil mummy”.  The girls spoke about it for a long time and wouldn’t go to the window for the rest of our stay.  Asha was visibly scared.

“For some reason, the girls are very active and energetic, especially Zoë.  It’s taking them a while to get into the time change, so they are a bit drowsy during the day and then full of nonsense in the evenings.   We all lie awake during the early hours of the morning listening to the night sounds.  One night I heard a baby crying for hours.  I was so distressed by it, thinking it was a baby out on the street.  It may have been, but it may also have been coming from one of the flats nearby.  Traffic noise reaches a peak in the evenings and then quietens down in the early hours of the morning.  Even then, there is always someone beeping their horn somewhere.”

On the Monday after we arrived, we went on a four-hour train journey to an NFI leaders and wives camp in a city called Pune.   We were so welcomed and looked after.  Asha and Zoe were happy to be with lots of other children.  When we arrived we realised there was nowhere to buy “Western” food or snacks for the girls.  They were just going to have to get used to Indian food.  There was no option.   We knew if we pampered them or offered them a yummy alternative, it would take them longer to adjust.  If we showed sympathy they would get the idea that we felt sorry for them.  So, with a glass of water close by, we sat with them and watched them eating their spicy Indian food. They would puff and pant and their tongues would flap around. We calmly told them to have a sip of water and keep eating.  That was that.

The camp was just what we needed.  Being surrounded by lovers of Jesus made us feel at home.    During one of the prayer times, one of our new friends, JoyAnne, said she had an image in her mind of us lying on our backs on a bed of nails.  Jesus was right there next to us.  We tried to get up and He said, “No, not now.  Lie down again.”  We lay down on our tummies and tried to get up again.  That happened three times.   When we were bleeding all over, He said, “Ok, now it’s time.”  He held our hands and led us into a rose garden, which was covered with thorns and brambles.  We started pulling out the thorns and brambles and freeing the roses without feeling any pain.

That was the word I had been waiting for.  I knew things weren’t going to be easy.  A “bed of nails,” sounded painful and it wasn’t going to be quick. We wondered what it would mean and how long it would go on for.

Asha and Zoë were going with the flow and blissfully unaware that they were thousands of miles away from South Africa. At the camp when Tony popped out to the market, Asha asked where he had gone.  I told her he had gone to get more paper plates and she asked, “Where from, our house?”

NFI Trainees

NFI Trainees

When the camp ended we said goodbye to all our friends and went on a twenty-hour train ride to Goa.   We travelled with a lovely young couple, Samir and Jackie, and other young singles that had signed up for a year of bible training with NFI.  They played with Ash and Zo for hours and it made the trip go faster; at least for us.

We could see Asha was struggling.  She was scared of the old beggars and wild looking characters.   When we arrived at the train station in Goa, we did our best to distract her.  They were everywhere.

May30

Post 76. Bombay

Posted on by
Standard

Those were the days of  “No dogs and no South Africans allowed” in India.  We were NOT popular.    Gandhi got kicked off a train in Durban by white racists and we were still all in trouble.  Fortunately I was able to get a British passport through my dad.  He took me on a walk to explain the two marriage certificates I had found.   He had hidden his secret from us for so long.  There was visible relief on his face after he told me but it took me a while to get over the shock.   He still hadn’t told my brothers.

Our arrival in Bombay was easier than expected.  The flight had been just long enough for Zoë who had been quite a live wire. We stood in the immigration queue for about an hour while everyone made a fuss of the little blonde foreign girls.  We expected a major search of our bags but we walked straight through.

It was the 4 September 1991 and it was 3.30 a.m.  “Pleasant- high humidity outside.  Arrived in monsoon rains- lovely.   Cools things down a bit.”   I held tightly onto the girls while Tony haggled with taxi drivers for the best price.  There were “hundreds” of men wanting to help with our bags.  Such sweet people I thought; so helpful.   I stood there watching Tony in his new role as expert bargainer.  I was impressed.  He packed our luggage into one of the little black and yellow taxis and we piled into the back seat.   “Little taxi-man- thin gaunt face, eyes stuck open; Unblinking and mad looking.”   His driving matched the look in his eyes.  I kept asking Tony to tell him to slow down as we zoomed through the streets of Bombay.   Tony just smiled and said, “Get used to it.” I squinted through the rain to see as much as I could.   It was very much as I imagined it to be.

Tony in the flat in Bombay

Tony in the flat in Bombay

Jeffy and Deepa had never met us, but when we walked into their home at Pali Darshan, it was like being with family.  We were tired but Ash and Zo were full of energy and wanted to dance and play.   We took it in turns to catch up on sleep and it took us a few days to get over our jetlag.

“Night-life- always busy.  Staying on the corner of a busy intersection.  Noisy all the time.  A hooter every 5 seconds.  Side street-eat places.  People everywhere, bells ringing; People shouting and selling things.  Heavy rain for a few minutes then humid again.”

I was amazed at how westernized Bombay was.  When we were inside the little flat, we could have been anywhere. It was simple and clean and the hospitality was incredible.   People from the church popped in to meet us and we felt so at home.

Asha and Zoë loved their first bucket bath experience.   They played for ages with the small jug and loved being able to mess water all over the bathroom.

Buckets of fun

Buckets of fun

We met a young English couple, James and Julie and their 3 children (they also had a little girl called Asha) who had arrived three months before us.  It was good for me to be in their house and to see how they had settled in and made their home in Bombay.  She also really helped me find my style of Indian clothing.  Deepa took me out shopping and I didn’t see anything I liked.  I wanted “appropriate clothing” but I also wanted clothing that was “me”.   I got home so wound up and emotional from the whole experience.    Julie helped me to find some more hippy-type Punjabi suits that looked nice and I enjoyed wearing them.   It was difficult to really enjoy wearing ANY clothing in that heat, but the suits were cool and comfortable.  My new friends were happy to see me wearing them.

“These streets are so NOISY!!  Cars, little black and yellow three wheeler auto-rickshaws, taxis, motorbikes are all over the place not taking much notice of stop streets and the few traffic lights there are. Whoever gets there first goes first. They just toot their horns and off they go; biggest first. Nobody stops unless they have to.  It’s all quite an experience.  Asha and Zoë love going in the auto-rickshaws.  They giggle and screech when we hit the potholes and speed bumps, which are totally ignored by the driver.  Asha even managed to get one to stop for us.  She was so proud of herself.  Hooters dominate at the intersection just outside the window.  It’s funny.  It doesn’t seem to stop us from sleeping in the slightest.  A busy day in Bombay makes it easy to sleep at night.

During my shopping expeditions, the only way to cope with the poverty was to avoid looking at faces.   It was easier to look at the masses than at individuals.  On our second day I made the mistake of doing that.  I looked into the face of a very young mother who was pulling on me for money.  I tried to ignore her for as long as I could.  She had SUCH pain on her face.   “Dirty, decorated and carrying the most pitiful little baby.”   Something cracked inside and I knew I wasn’t ready for the individual.  Their faces haunted me for a long time.

“Driving through Bombay I noticed two very thin, very poor ladies, feeding a huge fat cow on the pavement.  The cow was almost too fat to move.  Oh the irony.”

PS.

From now on I will be sharing excerpts from my journals in quotation marks and italics.  That way I will stick to how I was really feeling at the time with no hindsight perspective.

May29

Post 75. Bridges burnt

Posted on by
Standard
Image

Us all blurry eyed at the airport. Zoe making plans to rock and roll.

Us at the airport- all blurry eyed.

We did a trip down to Durban to say goodbye to Wilf and Val, Dave and Pete and their families.  It was a hard one.  For us, we were going on the adventure of our lives, and they were just wondering if they would ever see us again.  We tried to give them assurance that we would be ok, but how could we know that?  We let them into the details we did have, but those details opened up more questions we couldn’t answer.  Nothing we said made them feel better about letting us all go.

Back in Johannesburg, we had an amazing send off from our church.  There were so many tears but lots of promises of letters, calls and visits. During a conference in the Drakensberg, we were prayed for again.  Dudley and Anne Daniel and Mike and Joan Hanchett were the first of the NCMI families to leave the shores of South Africa to go to “the nations”.  We were the third.   It was comforting to know, that while we were going alone we weren’t really alone.  There were so many who loved us and were supportive of what we were doing.  There were commitments from our church and a few friends to support us financially until we got on our feet.   We weren’t quite sure what “On our feet” meant but we were hoping that wouldn’t take forever.  At the same time, knowing that in a third world context, it might.

When we were on the stage surrounded by our friends, I got really tearful.  I was trying hard to be brave.  Every time I came undone, I hid my face in Tony’s chest.  There was no way I could hide my smallness or my vulnerability.  While all the words had been encouraging, I had a feeling that things weren’t going to be easy.  When we got back to our room later on that evening, I expressed my concern to Tony.  There wasn’t one mention about how tough it was going to be.  We took the words and wrote them down in our big book of “Words for India.”  There were some pretty big ones and there were also a lot of blank pages still to be filled up.  We were very aware that any words no matter how great or profound, were just fantasies without hard work and obedience.

On 3 September 1991, we left South Africa.  Tony was beyond excited.  It was his fourth trip to India.  It was so different from his first trip as an independent, messed up twenty one year old on the drug/hippy trail.  This time he was going as a pioneer, a husband and father of two. This time he was hoping to be part of the solution and not part of the problem.

Going to the airport with our family and friends was hard. Some were crying as if they would never see us again.  While we didn’t want to upset the girls, Sue and I were beside ourselves; especially when I saw her hugging Asha and Zoe goodbye.  She was like a second mother to them.

We had bought a set of 4 new suitcases from medium all the way down to small; one for our clothes, one for the girl’s clothes, a bag for books and toys and then a small one for toiletries and extras. The girls each had a little back pack of goodies and special toys to keep them busy on the plane.   We heard the final call and we had to go.

When we were thousands of kilometres up in the air, Tony and I independently had the same thought. “If this plane goes down it will be at the peak of my obedience to God.”  We would have been happy to go to heaven right then.  I was so happy I wasn’t giving much thought to how the  “heaven” thing might have happened.

I hadn’t flown much since our around the world trip with Ash when she was 6 months old.  Memories of our bad take offs and landings came back to me but I managed to calm my self down.  The kids distracted me and I kept trying to imagine what it was going to be like landing in India.  Our flight was great.   Zoë kept us on our feet and got overtired and miserable.  Ash was as good as gold.  When the girls finally dozed off at the same time, I got out my journal and scribbled down some of my thoughts.

“Lord, if you want to take me now

At the peak of my obedience to you

You can do that

If not, please give me the grace

To be always at a peak

So I will be ready at any time

Love,

Lin”

So, with all our bridges burnt, there was no going back.  This was it.   My heart was in a country I had never been to and I was following it.  We were making plans to live there forever, not in the least bit concerned that all we had in our passports were six-month tourist visas.

PS.

From now on I will be sharing excerpts from my journals in quotation marks.  That way I will stick to how I was really feeling at the time with no hindsight perspective.

May28

Post 74. The big question

Posted on by
Standard

Our six years in South Africa were coming to a close.  Johannesburg had become our home and now we were going to have to say goodbye.   We had made so many good friends.  We had also accumulated a lot of stuff; a whole houseful of furniture, clothing, toys, books and kitchen utensils.   Most of it had been given to us.  Once our tickets were booked, we started to give things away.  We managed to sell some of our big things and that money was going to be what we lived on when we got to the other side.  All we had left was a big box of Tupperware, a few boxes of books, photo albums and a few other sentimental things.  Friends offered to store them for us.  At that point we had no idea when we would ever see them again.  We weren’t planning to be back any time soon.

The big question was, “Where will you be living in India?”   Somehow we knew it would be in the North, somewhere near the source of the Ganga.  While it was something, it still left a lot to the imagination.  India was huge and there were needs everywhere.  How was it going to be possible to pick a spot?  Closing our eyes and pointing at the map wasn’t an option but at least we knew our starting point.

When Tony got back from his survey trip, things were a little bit clearer.  At least there was a plan.  We would stay in Goa for six months to learn as much as we could from the NFI family.  Tony felt that would be the softest introduction to India for all of us.  That was settled. We were going to take one step at a time.  Goa was in the South and we were going to live in the North.  How we were going to get up there didn’t enter our minds.

God had also spoken to Tony about children of influential families.  He was reading Ps 45:9 which talked about daughters of kings being part of God’s household.  Tony started to cry and pray for those children and had a deep burden for Rajiv Gandhi’s daughter.  He had no idea if he even had a daughter.

People thought we were radical.  We didn’t feel we were being radical.  God told us to go and we were being obedient.  We both knew that if we chose to stay anywhere else, no matter how “safe,” we would be miserable.  Our biggest desire was to be in the will of God. His will was going to be home for us

I didn’t know much about India.  Most of what I knew, I had learnt from Tony, and he wasn’t the best at giving details.   We didn’t have a TV so I hadn’t watched any programmes featuring India on National Geographic.  Because we didn’t know where we would be living, we didn’t know which language we needed to learn.   We didn’t even think about it.  There was no preparation other than preparation of the heart.  During my YFC and O.M days we had been taught to be R.F.A.  Ready for anything.  We figured that as long as our hearts were ready, we would be ok.

We chatted to Phil and Linda Maxwell who had started a community and school in Hout Bay.  Their advice was that we home-schooled our girls.  That sounded like a good idea.  They also talked about what an idol formal education had become.  They helped us to see how much our girls were going to learn just being on the trip with us.  The advice we got from Rob Rufus was “Go in naivety and childlike trust.  You don’t have to know everything for everything to work out.”

It became more and more obvious to me that our children were happy and secure, all the time they were with us.  They didn’t mind where we went or for how long, as long as they were tagging along. The concept of another nation, another city was just not an issue for them.  It had to do with family.  Geography has little meaning when you are 2 and nearly 4.  We decided then that if it wasn’t an issue for them, we weren’t going to make it an issue.  There was going to be no suggestion of “shame you poor kids, having to tag along with us and give up all your friends and family.”

They were part of our call to India.  Whatever we were going to face, we were going to face together.  We were burning all our bridges and there was no plan B.

May23

Post 73. Leave the girls with me.

Posted on by
Standard

Life was busy.  Rigby and Sue introduced us to Dudley and Anne Daniel.  Dudley had formed a team called New Covenant Ministries International. They helped pastors and leaders all over South Africa.  Tony was the new kid on the block so he went along and sat quietly listening to everything that was going on.  It was all really helpful for our future and there were many friends made along the way.  Those who knew of our plan to move to India were supportive and it was comforting to know we weren’t alone in the decision

The movement got bigger and bigger and the first few couples left South African shores to start communities in other countries.  We knew our time was coming soon.  It had been almost six years since Tony had arrived in S.A.  He had learnt so much from Rig and other people in his life.  We read lots of books on parenting, marriage and missions.  One story we cried through was the story of William Carey.  We were so challenged by his life and perseverance.  He just never seemed to give up no matter what happened to him or his family.  We wondered if we would be as brave.

Asha was besotted with her baby sister.   Zoë was chunky and strong and able to put up with all the affection.  They were best friends from day one.  Zoë started walking at 9 ½ months.  She insisted on pushing the limits and was prepared to risk her life for anything she felt was worth it.   She was given a little brown monkey with a pointy finger that was supposed to go into its mouth.  Zoë used that finger to touch all kinds of things she wasn’t allowed to touch.  If we asked her if she touched the stereo, she would just say, “Monkey touchdit.”   When she was 2 ½ I told her I was going to smack her for something.  She looked at me and said, “You smack me, I smack you.”  Another time, she ignored me when I was calling her over and over again.  When I went to find her she looked at me and said, “Talkin a me?”  She had a twinkle in her eye and was full of spunk.  The Bum Woody worked over time.

Asha at 2 ½ was a sweet tooth, “admin” type.  During a ladies bible study she was paging through the Bible as if she was reading it.  I asked her what she was reading.  She ran her finger along the line and said, “God said, you must eat sweets.”  Once when we were on holiday down the coast, we visited a church. Nothing had been organised for the kids so they were all at the back on a blanket.  Asha got them all to sit in a circle, opened her little brown suitcase, handed them each a toy and came and sat down next to us on a chair where she could watch them.  They were all way older than she was.

When people heard we were moving to India with our girls, we got different responses.  Most of them were positive, but Wilf and Val were very concerned.  They suggested we leave the girls with them, go do our thing in India and then come back when it was out of our system.  More than concerned, they were sad.  They had already said goodbye to Ryan and Leigh.  Another friend from Brazil, wrote a very angry letter to Tony, telling him how irresponsible he was, taking his little girls to India.   She didn’t mince her words.

It was a bit scary.  Before Tony’s survey trip, we had very little idea about where we were going.  We didn’t know what we would do about schooling.  We knew very little about anything.  What we did know was that our girls were going with us.  God spoke to us about the children of Israel.  He didn’t tell them to leave their kids in Egypt.  He didn’t say, “Leave them in Egypt and when you are well settled and safe in the Promised Land, you can go back and get them.”   If that had been the case, the kids would never have seen their parents again.   Staying behind wasn’t an option.  They had to go with their parents.  They had to see the wonders of God.  They had to see His wrath against sin and they had to wander in the wastelands to see how He could provide food, water and everything else they needed.  They had to be there.

Reading about how William Carey had lost two wives and a couple of children in India wasn’t much comfort to those who were already concerned.   I knew there would be huge adjustments. As mother of two little ones, I knew that I would be stretched beyond anything I had ever known.  I knew I wasn’t going to cope with starving people and dying children if I didn’t have the means to help them.  God knew the many needs would overwhelm me; and I knew He wouldn’t put me among people to be devastated by them.

In all of the questions and wonderings, there were a few things we knew for sure.  We had friends.  We were going to India.  Our girls were coming with us.  So was God.