Sunday, Sunday

Serving food from the temple steps

Two weeks ago Sunday. I first contacted Hannah Dobie one morning right after I got here when Uttam gave me her phone number and told me to call now. Now? Yes NOW! It was great to hear an American voice. She volunteers at Operation Smile and makes rice and dal every Sunday with her roommates for kids in the slum. Her life is quite different than mine, living in the city an hour’s drive from Pamohi in a modern apartment with an Aussie and an American, working long hours and volunteering more time on the weekends with the poorest kids in the city. I went with Tat and had a great time. We went to Hannah’s apartment and chopped vegetables and chatted while the food cooked, then drove over to Paltan Bazaar and served from a small temple next to the railroad tracks with the help of one of the older slum boys. I could describe it at length but it’s what you probably expect – a lot of very dirty children shouting and jostling in line for food, some clothed, some not, others carry siblings not much younger than themselves.

 

Last weekend. I didn’t make food because we – Tat, Chantal, Lilly, and I – were vacationing outside of Cherrapunjee on the India-Bangladesh border. Fun facts: It’s a heavily Christian area. The hills where we stayed at 1000 meters have been formed in the last million years because of a tectonic weakness in the Indian subcontinent. In summer the area is the rainiest in the world, recording more than 24 meters of rain in 1974, nearly a foot of rain per day that year in July. The average annual rainfall is only 11.2 meters. The monsoon rains cut steep mountain rivers through the hills with boulders the size of three story houses. Cherrapunjee’s claim to fame is its root bridges, formed by coaxing the roots of gum trees across rivers where they become stable enough to walk on after 15-20 years. There are a dozen in the area, including the only double-decker bridge in the world. 

On Saturday Chantal, Dan from New York and I walked down some 2100 steps to the first of several root bridges. Because the winter months are completely dry, what little water that flows makes pools in the low parts of the river bed, perfect for swimming. I scampered across the rocks, stripped down to my bathing suit and jumped in the water, warm by Washington Coast standards. Swimming through a gap two feet wide, we immerged into another pool fed by a waterfall that we could hear but not see from the outside. From there we hiked to another river with a waterfall spilling into a bright blue pond lined with giant rocks that looked faker that than any wave pool at Disney World. I sat on the edge of another waterfall a hundred yards downstream and considered jumping into the deep water below but instead hiked around it to three natural waterslides, then hustled back over the rocks and across the two-part wire bridge to catch up with the others. It was a tropical paradise.

Disney World, no?

On Sunday I went to Catholic mass for the first time in my life and spent a less describable but equally wonderful day sitting on a rock alone in the jungle finishing my book and writing. I took no pictures and had no company – only I will ever know what that day was like. Those are rare memories that I savor. 

We ate lunch at the double-decker root bridge in the village of Nongriat where Stuart had stayed and hiked down a bunch more steps to another beautiful river where I went hunting for the perfect pool. What I found was 50 yards longs and perhaps 15 feet deep, clear deep blue water. I swam to one end, beached myself like a whale and swam back. Our Japanese friend Tets got in and swan a good butterfly but got the hell out because he thought it was too cold. I spent 2 beautiful hours exploring, sun bathing, diving for shiny objects that I never found and then warming up. Unfortunately I am such a poor swimmer that I expended the last of my energy in the lap pool before having to hike another 8 kilometers, including an hour straight up hundreds of stone steps. I was exhausted by the end but Mr. Dennis the hotel owner slipped us some rum and hot water to ease my pain.

  

This Sunday. Tat and I went back to Hannah’s apartment. Google maps says it takes 24 minutes by car but Guwahati public transportation took three times that. We got there late and didn’t get much chopping in, just sat around and chatted. It’s good to get into the city and see some fresh faces. In the slum I was designated water-pourer/hand-washing enforcer, calling out sabon for the kids to come lather up. The food goes quick and by the time I looked up from all the grimy little hands vying for water we were ready to leave. My little bit of Assamese served me well. I can give basic commands like Don’t Do That! na pie and More Soap! aru sabon and I can ask for someone’s name to start a basic conversation, though they need to speak some English for it to go anywhere. All of the other people we had served with peaced out before I could say goodbye so Tat and I got dropped at the Nepali Mandir, the only landmark from which I can cheaply and reliably get home. It was a little overcast and the excitement of serving food was over so quickly that it felt like a Sunday for the first time since I’ve been here, like when a fun weekend ends too fast and you have a bunch of homework waiting for you.

My new garb with Atta

Epilogue: Monday. Watching the Superbowl is not quite the same in the morning before class but I streamed the last two minutes and it was pretty good. Hope everyone enjoyed themselves. The big news today was two elephants visiting Parijat after dance practice. They sucked up the rice that the family offered and blew it into their mouths. When the elephants finished they took the big woven bamboo plates that the rice was served on, dumped the rest of the rice on the ground and gave the clean plate back to Reboti who had served them. Elephants know hospitality. I tonight I'm going to drink rice beer with mahouts!

Thanks to my sister for asking me to write more…ARE YOU HAPPY AUDREY? Two blog posts, with pictures :)