It's hot here.
So this post might be a blob.
What I Will Not Miss:
1. Men trying to talk to me (or just looking at me) while they pee in public
2. Not being able to sleep because of the heat
3. Having to grope-block men with my elbows seventeen thousand times a day
4. Wasting plastic by purchasing bottled water
5. Muttered comments about my appearance as I walk by men
6. "No problem, no problem" no matter how obvious the problem
What I Will Miss:
Everything else.
Really, everything. The beggars, the nauseating smells, the music, the bartering, the clothing, the colours, the dialects, the languages...and Kalighat. And my girls.
Everyone at Apne Aap keeps asking me when I'm coming back. "Amar ke khub bhalo lagbe, kintu kolkhon jani na." I would like it very much, but I don't know when.
Aaah! I'm considering lots and lots of options about returning, but I know that everything will happen according to God's timing. It'll all work out according to His will, thankfully.
Gosh, my brain is going bingbingbing today.
"There are times when love demands that you break the rules." - Father Patrick
This could be stretched to justify all sorts of ridiculousness, but in general...I'm a fan. It's a quote from this amazing priest at Mother's House. Father Patrick, from Tijuana. He plays guitar. And I'm stealing one of his talks as a devo for campers this summer.
Dear brain, please focus. Love, Stephanie.
Sonagachi. The largest red-light district in all of Kolkata. Hundreds of multi-story brothels. I went with Sam, my wonderful Kiwi roommate. Yet again, why do I have so many close friends named Sam?! We went around five pm, before it got dark, via Metro. We asked for directions at the internet place and at Paragon before leaving, and again in the metro station and no the street on the way there. Everyone had the exact same response - wide eyes, nervous smile, and why you want to go there?" or "what you do there?" or, at one point, "you know what happens in that place, yes?" Indeed, we knew. And that's why we were going. The last person we asked for directions was a police officer, leaning against his bike just a block away from Sonagachi. He walked us part of the way there.
SO WHY WASN'T HE DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!
I mean, I know why. Because he's a police officer, which means he gets first pick of the new girls, and in exchange he gets to lean against his bike all day and ignore the twelve-year-olds getting raped and beaten in the buildings next door.
The brothels are huge. The buildings are imposingly tall. And the women are EVERYWHERE. Hundreds, thousands of women, wearing make-up to make their faces lighter, bright red lipstick, dark black eyeliner. And western clothes. Flowy skirts and tight tank tops. Some wear jeans, the same skin-tight type we wear daily in America. And tall shoes. They look disconcertingly like someone in between normal American teenager and little girl playing dress up with mommy's make up. But they're twenty, thirty, forty years old.
And all they do is stand there and pose. Arms crossed, chin raised, waiting. In groups of five, ten, twenty.
And the men! Ugh. Many more men than women. Standing around, joking, trying to appear inconspicuous. Shut up. We all know why you're here. Hsdfjaldsjfkld! I wanted to get them all in a group together and show them videos about the emotional and physical effects of sex trafficking. I wanted to explain to them that women are more than their bodies. I wanted to tell them how their actions affect their wives. I...aaaaah! Sex trafficking will not stop until the buyers receive some sort of consequence for their actions. Apne Aap is working to pass legislation to punish the buyers. Currently, the women get punished for "inappropriate soliciting." How absurd is that? When they've been trafficked at eleven and twelve and forced through "debt" to stay in the brothel. What a ridiculous legal system.
Anyway, Sam wanted to buy sweets ('cause why not stop and buy sweets in the middle of a red-light district?), which ended up being a fantastic idea. It meant that we stood in one place for awhile, which meant that, after walking around a bit, we were called over by some of the women (two wearing saris, one wearing a green flowy tiered skirt and a black tank top and flip-flops - just what I would wear in the summer) the second time we walked by. I had been waiting the entire night to talk with women. Any women. We stood around with them for about fifteen minutes. Don't worry, no one thought we were prostitutes. And we didn't go inside the brothel. And we didn't face the street or pose with them. We talked about how I learned Bangla, our families, marriage, why I'm in Kolkata, their thoughts about America, my nose piercing and why my ears aren't pierced (Indian women love to ask me about my lack of holes in my earlobes) ...we pretty much exhausted my Bangla skills. And omigosh, it was wonderful. We laughed. We joked. They touched my hands and liked my henna. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH so wonderful.
I think two of them might have been pregnant.
And walking back, I realized something. I remember flipping through the YWAM guide post-Mexico, looking at all the ministry options. I remember seeing "prostitute outreach" and thinking "no freaking way." But now...yeah. I would love to do ministry with prostitutes, former prostitutes, children of prostitutes. I don't know if I have the stamina, or if I'm extroverted enough. I know I'm not mature enough, nor do I have the wisdom or the language skills to be effective in India.
But maybe I will eventually?
Okay, that's all.
Time to print photos for my girls.
Oh, also. One more list.
What I didn't expect to bring back from India:
1. An inherent distrust of men who walk by me on the street.
2. A lack of sympathy for many people's problems. After seeing a naked baby covered in flies sleeping on the street, everything else seems so minimal. I'm going to need to pray a lot about this. I know that suffering is relative to the individual. I just need to learn to feel universal empathy. And I'm going to need to ask for patience from my friends and family. Please be gracious to me if I say something like "but it doesn't matter" when you tell me about something that bothers you. I'm sorry in advance.
3. A passion for medical work. Thanks Kalighat.
4. A love of cold showers.
5. Lice. JK, I don't think I have lice.
6. A henna addiction.
Goodnight!
Love and preparation pandas,
Stephanie
