Mother and Father Come For A Visit

In early March my parents came to visit!

They stayed for two weeks with us in our simple hostel, and then drove all around other parts of India for another two weeks.

It was so amazing to see them;
it had been exactly 14 months (to the day!)... which is a long time. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing anyone from home!

They came in the blazing heat, and stayed just like us, down the hall in a simple, concrete room: a hard mattress, no air conditioning, no working shower, and a tap that you had to turn on by bending under the sink.
They quickly learned the way of the bucket-and-scoop to cool off, and how much is too much to pay for a rickshaw.
They confined to the dress code of India, long pants for dad and even more covered for mom. (Modest is hottest.)

Of all the places I’ve been since being away, India is the one that I would have hoped they could experience with me.
So I am so thankful that they were able to come, and see this dynamic place,
in all its fulness, its glitz and bangles, its holy cows and slum yards.

On their second day of being here, they came to see the hospital,
which I wrote about earlier.

That is an experience in itself,
to see the crowds and crowds of people outside, inside,
children sleeping on the floors beside their families,
fathers and grandmothers eating rice out of little tins, waiting for the time to pass.


To see at least fifty percent of the women covered with black from head to toe, with only a slit made for their eyes,
to see the women who once admitted are not even allowed to wear shoes,
walking barefoot on wet tile to the common toilet.
And children everywhere.
To see the metal stretchers, the family members creeping close to the labour room doors,
and the placid mothers resting peacefully in Postnatal.

To see freshly born babies squirm under handknit blankets we brought to the newborn room...
and to see the place where the fresh stillborns openly lay.

And to eat in the hospital canteen, dark and hot, like you’ve walked inside of an oven.
There, at lunch, when my parents and I stepped in,
I saw a mother whose baby I delivered just days ago!
So we got to eat lunch with them, and talk more,
they were so excited to see me, and have the honour to meet my mom and dad,
and at the end pray for them (they were believing Christians!).

It was so cool to bump into them again, and for my parents to see. I’ve never met any other mother I’ve delivered on the off-chance like that.

So they got to see it all.


Here are the highlights, in between working at the hospital and hanging out with the team,
here's some of what we did....

In the auto-rickshaw.... one of many rides out and about.



We got to explore bits of the city together, trying different curries and naans, and them learning the mechanism of eating with one hand...


We got to sit on a soft white mattressy floor while pouring over heaps and heaps of gorgeous, thin Indian cotton.



We got invited to dine with a family we met at the tailor’s.... up and up a windy creaky staircase to a house with three walls. The other wall was a rug loosely hung, with quite the breeze. There we had a true Indian meal, simple, entertaining, and followed suit by washing our hands by pouring water out the window. The night was complete with power-outages, a paper bag of sticky sweets, and sitting cross-legged on the floor.



We went to the city’s four-towers and immersed ourselves in the heart of the muslim neighbourhood.
Took photos in the cream-stone light, and somehow always gathered a crowd around us.
We fell victim of cellphone cameras in your face,
and unending pictures with strangers; “One photo please.”
We are just regular people, but to them we are superstars; emblems of the west.



A little girl. Notice the drawn-on eyebrows. Indians think it looks nice to have defined features, even on babies.

Here I am showing the photo that I took to the mother and father. They like it.


One of the many crowds that gathered.
Everyone had their cellphone cameras out and were shamelessly taking as many photos as they could of the "white family".
At one point I was taking a photo of my parents and even before I took it, the young men were pulling my dad out of the picture so that he could stand in a big clump of young men while they took a photo with him.
It was like we were more interesting than the amazing architectural monument!



All those shining blue-green flags were hung across every road, they were put up for Mohammed's birthday a few days before.





We climbed some ruins and learned some history...

and on the lookout for photo moments...





We explored some gardens....


found an elephant with a "chia" coat on...

and also tried different ways to handle the heat and the sweating....




Our team also made a “music video” Bollywood style, and my parents were there for the first shooting. This is on our roof.
They left that night, onward to Delhi, to explore India for two more weeks.
It was so nice to see them.
It will only be three months till our next encounter; it seems like no time at all!


After travelling this amazing country, they wrote a poem to sum it all up....

"India in a Cashewnut Shell" (cashews are big here.)

WE walked in the concrete footprints of Ghandi ....

WE clothed ourselves from neck to ankles for respect in the relentless heat, and then added a scarf for more modesty.....

WE crowded into 3-wheeled yellow auto rickshaws thankful we did not have to walk....

WE drove miles in air-cooled luxury and grew very thankful .... But it's a dry heat !

WE drank scalding chai masala from tiny stainless steel cups ..... Just hold the rim and you'll be allright .

WE watched golden sun go down over domed temples in India's countryside ....

WE lumbered atop the huge, grey, thick-skinned, earth-shaking elephant in Jaipur .... Laughing the whole way and wearing red turbans.

We laid motionless under spinning ceiling fans and drank 8 litres of water a day....

We gave temporary relief to the beggars. Ruppees, shampoo, pens, toothbrushes ... But the women of extreme poverty only asked for nailpolish and lipstick.

WE strolled on the warm, smooth marble courtyard of the white Taj Mahal at sunset..... Yes, it is breathtaking, over and over again.

OUR stomachs gurgled some days, but the next day did not... We try to be careful, but this is India.

PLEASE remove shoes for the holy places .... Our minds transcend to one thought only, "run quickly over the burning hot sandstone courtyards to shade" .... Our tender feet.

WE swam at night in the white marble pool with baby fruit bats swooping back and forth overhead .... Swimming under the radar.

WE rode gentle, gigantic camels (camel brown) through the markets of Pushgar into the desert landscape (desert tan) .... Their super smooth gait, giant 2 toed hoofs ,a furry camel mullet, and eyelahes to die for.

EVERYTHING becomes a photoshoot for us now. The incredible textures, the natural dry colors, the intense saree shades,

the marvellous light.... We become National Geographic photographers just by being here.

BRIGHT orange turbans herding spunky brown goats outside of Jodhpur.... Sharing the road with all manner of transport. They get off the road just in time again. There are only 3 things our driver needs, he says .... Good brakes, good horn, good luck.

WE asked God the hard questions and He answered us. We thanked God for being alive and for being blessed and and for being free. He smiled at us.

IT is a sacrifice and a priviledge.

IT is hard work and ultimate luxury.

IT is chaos and calm.

IT is camels and cellphones.

IT is impressive and depressive.

IT is low-tech and high-tech.

IT is India.

A motorcycle drives up beside us as we are walking along the street in Hyderabad ..... "Thank you for coming to India," says the brown man. He smiles. Our hearts break again, in a good way .... If that is possible.

Peter & Bonita.
March 2010

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