Global Volunteer

Sami's Engagement

2009-12-26T22:37:00.000-08:00

A major event took place in mid December - Sami got engaged to beautiful Arifad. As is usual in everything that happens in Kashmir - the whole family gets involved. People buy new clothes for the event, and family representatives go to the other family's house to meet each other.

The first event in the series was when Tahir and I went to visit Arifad's family to set a date when the family would visit. I didn't take any photos then. It just didn't seem appropriate. This was in late November.

The really big event was the mid December event - the Ring Ceremony. It started in the morning with Sami's family preparing trays of fruit and nuts and candy and coconut and tightly folded 10 rupee notes, and then wrapping them with cellophane. A suitcase was purchased, too. That's an interesting engagement present, I thought. We were expecting to head to Arifad's house around 3 or 3:30 pm. So everyone was ready to go, and just sitting, waiting for Arifad's family members to show up at Sami's house, and then we would follow them to their house.

We waited, and waited, and waited some more. Eventually, they showed up around 6 pm. Sami was a nervous wreck.

Arifad's brother and a cousin came. We served them tea and chicken, and then it was time to go.

There were 3 carloads of family members, and the various trays of sweets, chocolate, etc.
Sami was not invited to this event. He had to stay at home.

As I climbed into my assigned car, I noticed the small suitcase, and something made me wonder if it was full of money! I knew that in Muslim culture, the brides are given a substantial financial gift, but a suitcase full of money?

We arrived at Arifad's house in the city of Srinagar. Women were singing in one room, and we were ushered into the adjoining room.

Before long, Arifad entered, in all her glory, and sat down. Trays of treats were dispersed, tea and cake was served, and then the suitcase was opened. It contained gold, not cash. Gold coin necklaces, a beautiful gold necklace, gold rings, gold earrings. Sami's sister Shabnum placed them on Arifad,

and Sami's neice Tanya had the honor of placing a gold ring on Arifad's finger.

Then it was time to eat. The famous Kashmiri Wazwan meal of up to 26 separate meat dishes. The Wazwan meals I have been to in the past usually have one non-meat dish: cheese in tomato sauce. But this time, because of me, they served 2 vegetarian dishes, and some lovely salads. I was very happy! I was better for the guests, too, as all that meat Up to 2 pounds per person, is hard to digest.

We kept warm snuggled unter soft cushy blankets. Here are, from left to right: Tahir, Mr. Wani, brother in law Muzamir, and brother Tariq.

We weren't done with the trays of treats yet, though. Another tray was passed around, and

Arifad changed into yet another beautiful outfit to dazzle us.

And then the serious discussion of a wedding date was broached by Sami's father and Arifad's father. It is looking like it will be in March, but it hasn't been completely decided yet.

When the wedding date is set so close to the engagement, sometimes the bride's family doesn't visit the groom's family until after the wedding. And when they select this option, they will come 7 days after the wedding, have the same kind of wazwan feast that was given to them at the engagement, and then they spirit the bride away for a week and take her home with them. After a week, Sami would go to Arifad's family house, spend the weekend with them, and return to Wayil with her. All very prescribed. And all very logical. Stay tuned.

Kashmir Family Life

2009-12-17T00:34:00.000-08:00

Returning from Hajj. One morning I was walking to the Hope Centre, and noticed lots of decorations around one of the houses. What was going on? A wedding? As it turned out, there were family members at that house who had gone for their pilgrimage to Mecca, and were returning. So the family was welcoming them home. In the month of December, I noticed 3 families decorating their houses and entries in expectation of families returning from Hajj. One was one of Sami's uncles, so I was able to participate in the welcome. There must have been 60 people waiting for the car to come from the airport. What a welcome! And for the next few days family and friends from all over made their way to the house to pay their respects to the family who had returned from Hajj. If one can afford to go, it is the duty of every Muslim to once in their life make the trip to Mecca, in Saudi Arabia, and worship there.

New Mothers
New mothers in Kashmiri society live a very different life to those in the West. Here, mum stays in bed for the first 40 days with her baby, while family members prepare her meals, wash her clothes, and keep her safe from cold drafts. Sami's sister Shabnum had her second child shortly before I arrived, and so I got to see first hand how this works. Shabnum and the baby slept in a bed in the main room where visitors come. So she had plenty of company. Her baby never cried - why would he, since mum was always there. All the two of them have to do is eat, sleep, anc cuddle. What a great start to life!

Shabnum's grandmother came to help care for her during part of this time. One night when several of us came home in the evening, she was standing close to the door to the room where Shabnum was. Sami told me that she was making sure that none of us entered Shabnum's room directly from the outside. That we stayed in some other part of the house for 10-15 minutes before entering her room, to make sure there were no cold drafts. Shabnum also was not allowed to bathe during this time, in case she would catch cold and get sick. So when the time was up and she could bathe, women from the family came and it was a bit of a celebration - for girls only.

By law, women get 12 weeks paid maternity leave. Now that makes sense.

Here is a photo of Mr. Wani, Sami's dad, with the new arrival, Ajeem.

There are several young children living in the household during the winter, because Sami's brother Tahir and his wife come and live in Wayil during this time. So there are always toddlers around to play with, and cuddle with - and with everyone sitting on the floor, it makes it easy. Here Sami is talking on his cell phone while two of his neices enjoy his company.

One morning Sami treated the family to a special breakfast of a spiced meat paste called Hilsa. I tasted a tiny bit of it, and it was really good. Sami is a great cook, and he is the only one in the village of Wayil who knows how to make this special dish. It is only made in the winter, because it would spoil to quickly in summertime.

Baty is Tahir's family servant. She is a beautiful girl, and loves to dance.

Sami's father has a family servant as well. His name is Ishtyak, and he was orphaned during the 2005 earthquake which killed thousands here. Both Baty and Istyak were sent to their family homes for a week or two during December. Baty is not back yet.

Many people in the village keep their own milk cow, and some have small flocks of sheep. Sami's father has one milk cow, a calf, and a heifer in a small cow byre on the property. They are quiet creatures, and kept warm and safe in the cow byre all winter, and are outside for the summer. So we have plenty of milk every day. One of Sami's sister in laws milks the cow every day.

When everyone is here, there are 15 people living in the house. It is a big house, and the children are fed before the adults eat, so you never see everyone all together in one room. Except perhaps right after dinner, when we all tend to congretate in Shabnum's room for a bit before bed. When the bedding comes out and gets laid on the floor, you know it is time to retire upstairs - for those of us who have bedrooms upstairs. In the bedroom next to mine sleep Sami's brother Tariq, his wife Jasmine, and their daughter Tabu.

My bedroom has been a pretty much constant 45 degrees F, or 7 degrees C since I arrived Nov 24. I sleep in my thermals, 2 pair of sleeping socks, a jumper or two, a hat, and usually gloves. And 2 hot water bottles. And then I am cozy.

Clothing is often made by a tailor, especially pherans and women's clothes. Men often wear western ready made clothes. I had a very warm pheran made for me, with a flannel liner. It has saved me during the cold days at the office, and in my room at night, where there is no heat.

Electricity is on for roughly half the day, and the time varies. So Sami's father has invested in a large battery system, so we always can run the lights, though not always the TV. One night we had a burnout of the system, and I held the light for Sami so he could fix the problem. People here learn to fix everything!

Cats are rare here, because of the street dogs. But Sami's father has one that stays outside. No one plays with it. It is clearly allowed to stay around as a work cat, like a farm cat. It was tame enough to let me pet it, though, while waiting to be fed. It has no name.

Free Medical Camp sponsored by the Indian Military

2009-12-11T22:40:00.001-08:00

Shortly after arriving back, Sami was invited to participate in a free medical camp sponsored by the Indian Army. This is the same 5RR group who has sponsored some surgeries in the past, and tries hard to eliminate militants by getting the locals on their side. The head guy who was there earlier this year, Vivek Sharma, Commandant Officer, has moved on. Too bad. I was hoping to get to meet him again. If I get a chance to meet his replacement, I will try to determine if Vivek's policies will continue under the new leadership.

The medical camps are an opportunity for Sami to identify disabled people to help, so he goes to these camps when asked. There were about 7 doctors there, and only one woman doctor.

She had a huge crowd around her all day, and didn't get to stop to eat. Sami was not so busy.

Around 3000 people attended the camp during the day. The guy who gave them their first paper when they arrived was swamped. I had a hard time even getting a photo of him. I held the camera high over my head, and guessed.

They served us tea, and lovely vegetarian lunch, but I didn't have much to do, so wandered around.

The camp was held on the grounds of the Sehpura Public School, so I got a chance to see what the school was like. Very interesting. Broken windows, some desks or carpet on the floor. It doesn't get much more basic than this! When I think of my sister Patty's classroom where she taught kindergarten, and all the resources for the kids there, and then I see this. Where would they put teaching materials even if they had them?

On one window was a schedule of the exams, and I got to see the subjects taught at this school: English, Urdu, Kashmiri, Math, and Science.

It got busier after lunch for Sami, but he wasn't seeing hardly any disabled patients. He talked to I think 4 all day and asked them to come to the Hope Centre in Wayil. But he helped many others.

I took a trip to the loo they had set up, and was disappointed to discover that they had provided no water to clean up after yourself in the "Queen" tent. It was a good thing I didn't require much cleaning up or it would have been a difficult challenge for me.

Once the other schools in the village were out for the day, many schoolchildren came over to see what was going on. And to stare at the foreigner. I let this girl and a couple of others use my camera to take some photos. After that, I had my own young entourage follow me everywhere for the rest of the day.

World Disability Day

2009-12-11T23:22:00.000-08:00

A few days after the free medical camp, we celebrated World Disability Day with Handicap International. It was wonderful to see how everyone pulled together to make this happen so quickly. The night before, the family all wrapped the gifts which were to be given to all the students - able bodied and differently-abled, who attended the event.

Sami helped hang the banner.

The orthopedic items I had picked up from Global Health Ministries and shipped with the generous donations from the Algona Presbyterian Church were on display. They will be used over time as patients who need them come to the Centre for help.

The Social Welfare Officer for the Ganderbal District showed up at the event, and I took the opportunity to share with her the fact that Sami gets no government help with his efforts, even though he is doing their job for them. I suppose I could have been more tactful, but Sami has completed detailed applications for funds for the past several years, and they don't even bother to let him know that his application has been received, or rejected. Once the application gets to Delhi, it falls into a black hole. And Sami's strong network of friends and connections does not extend to Delhi government posts.

In her speech later in the day, she referred to our discussion, and she formally promised to help. Great. I will be staying in touch with her.

During the day, we had a mix of students from a local public school, a local private school, disabled children who came by bus.

Together they drew and painted, made items out of clay, and played the stone game, where you toss a stone in the air and pick up the other stones on the ground before the first one falls.

The large tent was set up right next door to the Hope Disability Centre, on the grounds of the Fisheries Department. This huge tent went up in about 5 minutes.

There were some students who were there to give speeches and sing songs, and they were patiently waiting their turn, watching the other students play the stone game, etc. So I went over and passed my camera around for them to practice taking photos. I took the flash off, so they had to hold it really still in order for the error message not to come up. So it was a game to see who could hold it still enough. Here is one of the photos which resulted.

We had one journalist there: Sofi Imtiyaz from Rising Kashmir. Sofi had earlier this year organised an outreach for Sami which I attended. It was on that day that we found the family with 5 members disabled by rickets, and the day I lost my shoe in the mud. It was great to see him again. His differently abled friend, Sonaullah Bhat, (on the right in the photo) gave a controversial speech which had everyone listening intently. I didn't understand a word, but I could see it was impassioned, and I filmed the whole speech, and will load it to YouTube for him. I know one of the points he made in his speech was that the government says it wants to help, but their offices are located up several flights of stairs. How can a person in a wheelchair even get to talk to them? He wants access and rights, not sympathy.

Hope Disability Centre - Many Changes!

2009-12-11T22:07:00.001-08:00

I had left the Hope Disability Centre on July 1, earlier this year. When I returned, there had been lots of changes. The shop by the road, which was just being fitted out with shelves when I left, now had an addition on the top! This is going to be a place for visitors and volunteers to stay, apparently. They are referring to it as my room, and it is expected to be completed in March. I like the idea of the privacy and the view over the river.

The construction workers were digging the hole for the septic system, and had to get a huge rock lifted out.

My first day back in the centre, and Sami was already finding a use for some of the hearing aid batteries I had purchased in New Zealand and brought with me.

The centre itself was under major reconstruction, because Handicap International (HI) has joined with SheHope Society (the Hope Centre's parent NGO) as partners to help the disabled in Kashmir.

The Handicap International 12 month project is why I am here now. And why I agreed to stay for a year. Sami needs all the help he can get in dealing with a major multinational organisation. It is going to require major systems changes in documenting and reporting on the disabled in Kashmir, along with a big jump in the numbers of disabled people in Kashmir that will be helped.

This partnership is currently on a 12 month trial basis, and covers only certain areas of Sami's work, and only some salary funding. I am going to do my best to help Sami come up with the rest. Because if Sami isn't happy, ain't nobody happy. And so begins a new area for me to learn: grant writing.

Currently there are two employees of HI who are in Kashmir for at least six months. One is Elisa. When Tahir and I purchased the fabric for my pheran, I selected fabric for one for Elisa too. She was as delighted as me to have this wonderful warm clothing to see us through a chilly winter with no central heat.

Eid 2

2009-12-11T02:33:00.001-08:00

I arrived in Kashmir right before Eid. I learned there are 2 Eid celebrations in a year. The first one comes as a celebration at the end of the
Ramadan fast. The second one comes in late November, and it commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his greatest love, his son, for God. This is how it is told here: Abraham was willing to sacrifice whatever God wished, and his son was willing to be sacrificed, but at the last moment, when Abraham closed his eyes and started cutting what he thought was his son's throat. When Abraham opened his eyes, he saw his son sitting safely nearby, and a sheep from Heaven had been placed under his knife. So during this second Eid, any family who can afford it has an animal sacrificed on their property, with prayers and as much care as possible for the animal. A chicken, a goat, a sheep, is most typical. One of the women in the village had purchased a young buffalo (water buffalo) to be sacrificed. So in Srinagar the day before Eid, the atmosphere was like pre-Christmas in Minnesota. Lots of people on the streets buying special food, selecting animals to buy, herds of sheep and goats waiting for people to buy them. While I was waiting in the van for Sami to buy the special baked goods, I watched several goats being weighed to determine their cost. At Eid, there is no haggling over price. The merchant states his price, and you take it or leave it.

On the morning of Eid itself, the family has a special breakfast of holiday breads.

After breakfast, all the men and boys above a certain age go to the mosque – even the ones who do not normally ever go – just like in the West. They stay for hours, and when they return, the animals are slaughtered.

I watched a sheep being slaughtered for the first time, and videotaped it. I did not get sick, but close. I have eaten plenty of meat in my lifetime. I am responsible for many, many animals being slaughtered – and with far less humane methods. The animal didn’t suffer long, and one of the reasons it is not stunned and bled is to allow the animal to prepare itself for death. At least that is how I understand it. And that is a very interesting way of looking at it. Humans who are killed suddenly don't realise they are dead sometimes, and their souls wander the earth until someone helps them find their way to the light. So is it the same for animals who are killed suddenly? Hmmm.

The animal is held down gently and firmly by the people around, though it does kick and try to get up at the end. It is still far kinder than bleeding to death on a conveyor belt hook, kicking and squirming with no one caring.

Within half an hour, the sheep was cut up into pieces.
The blood that spills out is not to be used for anything, as it is sacred. It is buried. Not even the bones from the slaughtered animal are to be left for the dogs, but buried. The meat is divided into thirds: 1/3 for the immediate family, 1/3 for neighbours, and 1/3 for extended family.

The pieces are wrapped up in paper, and then apportioned carefully to all the people on the list.

For the next two days, everywhere you went, you saw people delivering meat to their relatives.

Beyond this, one can also give money to the poor , and crisp 10 rupee notes to children.

When I learned that it was OK to give money to the poor at Eid, I took advantage of this to give money to the blind baker, and to two poor families in the village. My young friend Diya showed me where the poor people lived. I was surprised at how resistant many of the children are to receiving money, especially the teenagers in the poor families. That’s good! When I went to the bakery, I realized I didn’t even know the name of the blind baker. His name was Kaka. I gave him some a gift of rupees. Not much by US standards, but a very nice gift for him. I was invited for tea, and I stayed. Rathi’s son who lives there speaks good English, so we had a chat. Between he and Tahir later, I learned that Rathi has two blind children, and 3 normal ones. There is a blind girl as well who I spotted sitting in the corner when I went for tea the other day. Can anything be done? Have they even seen a doctor? Makes one wonder.

This Eid is also a time when children get new clothes Here Tabu gets a new hat and scarf, being arranged by Sami.

The two and a half days of EID are spent visiting relatives with gifts of meat, and hanging around in the streets, and drinking tea. The children have money to spend, (those crisp 10 rupee notes) so the small shops are open and stocked with cheap toys for them to buy.

One enterprising young man cut up a coconut and was selling coconut slices and fingerless gloves on the side of the road. I purchased two pair of gloves from him. One for me, and one for Alisa. They were only 20 rupees per pair!! About 50 cents.

I noticed that the pherans that people wear in winter are heavier than the ones they wear in spring. Tahir, Sami's brother, kindly offered to help me have a really warm one made. We went to the same shop where I had purchased the material for my salwar kameez earlier this year, and purchased a warm flannel material for the liner, and a good quality wool for the outer layer. Then Tahir dropped it off at the local tailor for sewing, and we also asked him to include a hood, for extra warmth. It was done in a couple of days, and I love it. I feel like a monk, or little grey riding hood when I wear it. It is comfortable and comforting. And I can fit one of those kangri baskets with the hot coals in it underneath my pheran if I need to.

Lots of feasting and fun during Eid:

Late Fall in Kashmir

2009-12-11T02:47:00.000-08:00

Late fall in Kashmir is very interesting. Once again, I am impressed with the environmental sustainability of the way Kashmiris live. As soon as we entered the valley, coming from Jammu, I noticed big bundles of straw and sticks in the trees. I learned that the straw was rice straw for the animals, and the sticks were tree trimmings, for kindling fires. Up in the trees they will dry quickly, and if the snow gets really deep, you can still get to them!

Other piles of straw were made into straw 'houses'.

This cow and calf are eating tree trimmings. As I walk around and see all the heavily trimmed trees, what comes to mind is how everything has a purpose here, and everything is used. In New Zealand, the cows eat grass, so you begin to think that cows are grass-grazing animals. But I have learned recently that no, cows actually do better on twigs, and are forest animals. That is one of the reasons they have all those stomachs. So it now seems more natural to me to see cows eating twigs and branches. And every tree in every New Zealand pasture is trimmed to the exact height of a cow's reach. Why? because they like twigs.

So the trees are mostly trimmed very heavily in the fall. And there is another very good reason to trim the trees like this. It is so the grass can get enough sunlight to grow. And the leaves are burned, for the same reason. So they don't smother the grass.

Sami told me during the summer that the rivers dry up in the fall, because they are fueled by snow melting from the mountains. And sure enough, the canals and the small rivers are dry now. I went for a walk down a dry riverbed for quite a while.

The mighty Sindh River, very dangerous in summer, is also now a trickle of its former self. The wigwam of sticks at the river's edge are cuttings from willow trees which will be rooting, to make new trees.

Here are some more landscape photos

As I was resting by the river during my walk, a group of horses was being driven toward me. Good timing. It looks like they are racing across the rocky area near the river, but actually they have their front hooves tied together, so they need to jump in order to move faster than a very slow walk.

On another walk, I was befriended by a young man who spoke English well. His name was Irfan. I accepted his invitation to tea.

At his house, I met his family, and learned that his two sisters embroider the famous Kashmiri pashminas - the 100% ones that can fit through a ring from your finger.

Something else I had not seen during the summer was the hewing of large trees into planks. All by hand.

I liked the fancy stone work around this old house, and the stone wall outside.

I am looking forward to snow, which will completely transform the landscape. I will try to take photos from the very same spots to show the changes through the year.

Heading to Kashmir

2009-12-10T21:31:00.000-08:00

I left the US with a huge amount of luggage. I was heading into winter, so needed warm clothes. I was going to be in Kashmir for a year, so I needed to bring my summer things as well as my winter things. And then there were many things I would not be easily able to buy there, so I had to bring extras. And then the requests from Sami and Tahir to bring jackets for them, and shipping envelopes for Kashmiri embroidered items. And, finally, the 16 pound audiometer that was given to me by Global Health Ministries. I had carried it with me in my carryon luggage from the US to New Zealand, from New Zealand back to the US, and now it was going with me from the US to India. I will be very happy to leave it at its final resting place! It was a long journey. Minneapolis to Chicago, then Chicago to New York, both on American (bring your own food) Airlines.

I had quite a few interesting experiences during my travel. Blessings – to me and others:
I was happy to be able to help several people during my travel:
The harpist at MSP looked up just as I was passing, so I was able to beam my love and gratitude to her for her playing.
The lady who went through security in front of me left forgot her scarf. I couldn’t remember exactly who it was, but when I saw a lady who looked familiar from the line, I asked her if she left her scarf at Security. She remembered that she had. I offered to go get it for her, because she was walking with one crutch for support. But she went herself.
At Starbucks in O’Hare airport in Chicago, the lady at the next table was on the phone to someone trying to get help for her laptop. I offered my services, and got her up and running with Internet so she could check on an important e-mail for her business. Her husband shared a piece of cheese and spinach pizza with me – he didn’t even know I was a vegetarian!
On my flight from Minneapolis to Chicago, the flight was full, but somehow I had 3 seats to myself, and my favorite window seat. Lots of room to spread out and relax. On the flight from Chicago to New York I had a window seat and an empty middle seat - again on a full flight. And I shared my Wall Street Journal with a man in the row across from me. He was bringing fresh cut roses from his garden to his 102 year old mother in New York. She had ridden a horse to her one room schoolhouse as a girl. He gave me one of the roses in exchange for sharing my newspaper with him, over my protests.

The man behind me on that flight is planning to open a restaurant by the time he is 30, and was telling the young lady in the seat next to him about his dream, so I overheard their conversation, as we were de-planing. I gave him a piece of paper with the name of my most recommended business books – Instant Cash Flow, the Non-Designers Design Book, and Semler’s Maverick and 7 Day Weekend. They will help him, if he chooses to read them.

In the JFK airport in New York I gave my leftover US coins to the cleaning lady in the women’s loo.

In New York, I transferred to Qatar Airways. I had never flown Qatar Air before, so had no idea what to expect. As I was waiting in line with all my check in luggage – my carryon bag, my laptop bag, my coat, and my bicycle bum bag, I saw that there was a staff person stopping nearly every passenger before they even reached the ticket counter, examining the carryon luggage. That wouldn’t be a problem, except that I learned that the limit was 7 kg. I thought it was more! And my audiometer alone weighs 7 kg. What was I to do? My big bag and my box were stuffed full, and I didn’t even have them with me, as they were checked all the way to Delhi. So there was no way I could do what the other passengers were doing – moving things into their checked luggage. So I determined that I would have to try to check the audiometer, and hope that if they labeled it FRAGILE, it would make it through. When it was my turn, the lady put a “Cabin Baggage” label on my laptop bag, and I had to tell her that the other rather large bag was also carryon. She picked it up, brought it over to the scale, and reported that it was 10 kg. I told her it was an audiometer to test hearing, and I was afraid of putting it in my checked luggage, and didn’t know what else to do. She stood there thinking, and I added, brightly – I am a skinny girl. I don’t weigh much! And that decided her. She tagged my carryon bag with the audiometer as Cabin Baggage. I wasn’t out of the woods yet, however, as everyone was having their cabin bags weighed again when they finally got to the ticket counter. I needed some additional help, so pulled out one of my business cards so I could prove that I was a volunteer going to Kashmir. My ticket agent let me go, and I left my card behind on the counter. So far, so good. But I knew that they can also stop you before boarding the plane, so didn’t relax completely yet. I changed dollars into Indian Rupees at a fairly poor exchange rate, but that is what is happening now that the US dollar is losing its value, and you are at an airport. Oh well.

As my row was called to board the plane to Doha, l was called over to the counter at the boarding gate. Oh oh, they have changed their minds about letting me on with all this weight, and I will have to check the audiometer after all. But no, they exchanged my 'can’t sleep' aisle seat in coach for a seat in business class. I did not ask them how this happened. I can only imagine that the card I left behind and God moved in someone’s heart to allow this to happen. Business Class on Qatar Airlines was heavenly. There were fresh red roses in the wall sconce – though I thought they were plastic at first, and questioned the airline's taste in putting plastic roses and greenery in a business class cabin. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized they were real.
The food was good, the blanket was rough wool on one side, soft on the other, and we were given a pouch with soft sleeping socks, an eye mask, ear plugs, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. In between the seats were hidden compartments for water bottles.

Looking back, I can imagine God rubbing His hands with delight as His plans for me and others began to unfold. Because there was another reason I was in this seat. The lady sitting next to me was from Oman. She was very interested in learning more about my work in Kashmir, because she had been to Srinagar 30 years before. She was my age, and had 4 grown sons and a husband, so we had a lot in common. I had decided to bring my Kashmir photos with me, so I showed her those, and gave her a copy of the Hope Centre brochure, and she said she would share the information with her friends. Later I lent her a pen – my Nonviolent Communication pen, so she could write down her name and e-mail address. This is a very special pen. When you click it, different Nonviolent communication messages appear in a little window: “Empathy before education”, “What is your intention?”, “Enemy: one whose story I don’t yet know.”, “When furious, get curious.”, “No technique is a substitute for caring.”, and “Your opinion of me? None of my business.”. I decided to bring this special pen with me because of the stressful situations I knew I would find myself in during the coming year, and I knew I needed all the help I could get. Well, when I returned from a trip to the loo, she commented on the pen. And wanted to learn more. I always carry at least one of the summary Nonviolent Communication cards with me. This time, I had extras. As well as extra small cards for when you ask someone to do something for you. I was happy to give her both of them, and explained briefly the theory behind it all. She got it. And she said something that meant a lot to me: “Now I know why I missed my flight yesterday.” I was meant to meet you.” By the way, I will send one of these cards to any blog readers who want one. Just ask. And the website is www.cnvc.org.

She shared with me information on the importance of magnesium in your diet, and that her eldest son was considering starting an organic gardening business in Oman, because nearly all their food is imported, and is not healthy. There are huge numbers of children with diabetes in Oman. I advised her that the time was right for locally produced organic foods, and why organic foods are so much better for us. We compared notes on the depletion of soils around the world of necessary nutrients and minerals, due to the continued use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides and herbicides. She had not known about the suicides of the Indian farmers. I had not known of the health problems in Oman which are attributed to soil depletion.

We talked until late, and then I pushed the sleep position on my chair control panel to see what would happen, and was surprised to see it transform itself completely, squishing my purse against the wall as it unfolded. Like getting caught in an elevator door. Nothing was damaged, and it was a good signal for us to sleep, or we could have talked all night.

It was the absolute best part about being in business class on this flight. I was astounded, delighted, overjoyed, and filled with gratitude. My mantra of Thank you God was repeated all night. I have never slept better on a plane. I wakened to the smell of breakfast being served to the man across the aisle, and decided to skip breakfast and enjoy my bed. And then I remembered - in business class, you can have breakfast whenever you want. There is no such thing as missing the breakfast cart, because they serve you individually anyway! Oh blessings. I can sleep and still have breakfast.

Doha to Delhi
The Doha airport has the most wonderful conveniences! A mosque with a glass wall so you can watch people praying, if you wish. And right next door, a Quiet Room. My favorite. This was a large darkened, carpeted room with white noise and fixed reclined seating. Maybe 40 seats, and room for laying down along the walls, and plenty of space for your carry on bags. It was lovely. I could imagine there might be several people who have missed their flights from falling asleep in this room. It would be easy to do. I allowed myself 15 minutes in there before leaving to be sure I had the correct gate.

At boarding, I saw the most unusual sight. Not one woman was in line. And the line had at least 50 people in it. This was my flight, so I watched the line develop, and eventually some women joined the queue. In thinking about it, it makes sense that the men would go first and secure the seat and overhead luggage space. And the women would come later with the children. This flight did not seat by row. It was first come, first serve. The line grew and grew, until it snaked around the seating area and at least 100 people were in line. Why? We all have seat assignments. With all my heavy carry on bags, I wasn’t going to stand in line like that, so I waited until it got down to about 10 people, and joined in. And there was plenty of overhead space still. A steward even hoisted my heavy carryon bag up into the overhead locker for me. That was a first! From looking at my seat assignment, 23B, I thought I would be stuck in a middle seat. But, blessings continuing, my seat was an aisle seat on a plane with each side having 2 seats, and 3 seats in the middle row. My neighbor was a young man who didn’t speak or look at me. Very shy. He didn’t speak any English.
When dinner was served, an Asian flight attendant commented that she loved my jacket (my pink and black Kashmiri embroidered jacket). It reminded her of Chinese embroidery. I gave her my business card so she could contact me about getting one for herself.

As we were preparing to land, I worked on filling out my arrival forms, and noticed that my shy neighbour was not filling his out, and tried to ask me something about them, but I didn’t understand his question. I could see that he needed some help, so I indicated that I would help fill his out, and I asked for his passport. From his passport I learned that he was from Bihar state in India, and had a Qatar visa. From my previous exposure to Bihari workers in Kashmir, I realized that he was probably a laborer from Bihar working on some construction project in Qatar, which is why he didn’t speak or write English. I filled it out the best I could for him, and was glad I had a chance to help him. As I was leaving the plane, the flight attendants said it was a pleasure having me on board. Really? OK. Thanks.

I breezed through immigration and the health check (swine flu), and went to pick up my bags. Hallelujah, they made it all the way from Minneapolis, and arrived together on the conveyor belt. My trip blessings continue. My luggage cart was at capacity. On the way out of the terminal, I checked out the exchange rate offered at the banks, several of which were open at 3:30 in the morning, much to my surprise. And I confirmed that I had gotten a really bad exchange rate in New York. The exchange rate in the Delhi airport was much much better. OK. I will know for next time. I was able to pre-pay for a taxi, which really helped remove apprehension about paying too much for a taxi. But the trick then was to find the taxi. It took me a while, and it made me nervous when I handed over my taxi ticket to someone who looked official, and 10 Indian men crowded around to look at my ticket, moving away from me. Great. I did not see any taxis with my company name on them. So I took my ticket back from the guys who were acting like they had never seen one before, and continued walking. I was called back, and it was pointed out to me that the taxi company name was on the back of the taxi – which was impossible for me to see because I could only see the front of the taxis. OK. Good. We got loaded up, and I tipped the guy who loaded the bags $2 US, and off we went. My driver was quiet, so I just experienced the ride. My CS host’s place was difficult to find. He called her on her cell phone to get directions. Once we got close, I saw that it was a new high-rise apartment building – very nice. The driver helped me get my bags all the way to the elevator, and was about to leave without a tip, but I stopped him and gave him 200 rupees ($4 US)

My Couchsurfing host, Shailja, was very kind to let me arrive in the middle of the night. She showed me my bed, and I settled in. Wow. Back in India, safe and sound, with all my gear, and a comfortable safe place to stay. Perfect. Thank you God.

The pollution in Delhi was atrocious. Even on Sunday, with less traffic for 2 days, you couldn’t see beyond a block away. There is no such thing as blue sky, or stars. So very sad. My throat hurt and I got a headache after a few hours in Delhi. I wonder if the increase in wealth hasn’t been a major contributor to the pollution. Ten years ago, how many people would have been riding bicycles in this flat city, who are now sitting for hours idling in traffic? My ride during the evening rush hour 3 days later took an hour and a half to go 35 km, and the taxi driver was as aggressive as he could be to get me to the train station. I counted only a handful of people commuting by bicycle along with us on the city streets. Lots of motorbikes, and of course the cars. No horse carts here.

Shailja was a wonderful Couchsurfing host. I was with her and her family for 2 and a half days. I had come down with a terrible cold, so much of that time I was in bed. Shailja had also purchased my train ticket for me, to get up to Jammu. When I went to Kashmir earlier this year, I flew from Delhi to Srinagar. This time, I wanted to go over the mountains, which meant an overnight train from Delhi to Jammu, and a hire car from Jammu to Srinagar. Shailja purchased a ticket in class 1A - one down from the top. The sleeper cars were shared, and separated by curtains, rather than your own private compartment. She had guessed, rightly, that I would want some company on the trip.

When it was time to head for the airport, Shailja called a taxi for me, and we shifted all my luggage once again. I am glad she warned me in advance that the coolie (porter) situation was not good in Delhi, before I arrived at the train station. Shailja said I would probably have to pay 250 rupees for a porter, because they are not allowing any more coolies to come in to the business. Apparently women have wanted to break into the field, and they would rather not let anyone in than let women in. So coolies are hard to come by, and they charge very high prices. I had tipped my taxi driver, and he showed his gratitude by doing his best to negotiate a price with the coolie for me. We didn’t like the price on offer, but there was no one else anywhere to take my bags, and people were honking at the taxi to move on. So when the coolie said to me 300 rupees, I accepted. The hour and a half taxi ride had only cost 550 rupees, so 300 was outrageous to put 3 bags on a wheeled cart and bring them to the train, but it couldn’t be helped. And there is no way I could have found my track on my own. The huge train station was very confusing for a first-timer. The coolie took me to my platform, and he waited with me for 45 minutes until the train came, and stored my bags in my car for me, which was lovely. And then he asked me for 100 more rupees! No way, especially once I had spotted the posted signs for the official rates one was to pay porters. According to the sign, I should not have paid more than 100 rupees for the service, including the wait. And he wanted a tip for that much!

The train was great. I shared the berth with 5 others. One was a quiet man on his own, and 2 couples who were traveling together, very happy chatting away.

I didn’t know dinner was included in the very reasonable price of $25US for an 8 hour overnight train ride. We had a full meal, and ice cream for dessert.

Tipping may not be a city in Russia, but it is expected for any possible service in India. Even the guy who delivered our meals came by later and asked for baksheesh. The locals were surprised as I was, but I gave the young man 20 rupees. He had done a good job for us. Not everyone gave him anything, so he went away unhappy.

I was on a bottom bunk, and could not go to bed until the chatty folk decided to turn in. Fortunately, at around 10 pm, the quiet man in the lower bunk opposite me asked the others to get off our beds so we could sleep.

I slept well on the train. They provide clean pillows, sheets, and a heavy wool blanket, and the jostling didn’t seem to bother me at all. No need to turn over to get your blood flowing in all the right places again, I guess. During the middle of the night I had to go to the toilet. It didn’t smell, and there was toilet paper. And I saw that there was a night security guard there to make sure bags weren’t taken as we slept. There were also cables attached to our beds so we could lock our bags to if we wished. That is really good to know. I felt safe and secure, especially with the people with me in my car. I would happily do it again.

I arrived at Jammu train station around 5:30 am, and got all my bags off the car by myself. Surprisingly, I saw no one around to help me with my bags. No one. After 15 minutes or so, Tahir (Sami's brother) showed up, and he tracked down a coolie to carry my bags up to the car.

The microwave box our porter is carrying on his head was a gift from Janice Guenther in Algona Iowa, back in August. I wanted to take full advantage of my extra large US luggage allowance, and Janice found this box for me. It is exactly the maximum size for the airlines, and it was nice and sturdy. It made it just fine from the US to New Zealand, from New Zealand back to the US, and from the US to India. And because it was sealed with fiberglass strapping tape, no one even opened it for security checks along the way - on any of those flights. Remarkable. Thank you Janice!! The green bag on his left shoulder has the audiometer in it. Now this guy earned his rupees! He would have been carrying 50 pounds on his head, 50 pounds in the blue bag, and around 20 pounds in the carryon bag. About as much as he weighed.

Tahir had a business trip in Jammu, and stayed an extra day just to pick me up from the train station and make sure I got to Srinagar with no problem. Very nice. Considering that I was arriving outside tourist season, I would have had a difficult time getting my bags and me to the place where the hire cars are located, I realized.

Because of all our luggage, and because I was expecting to stop frequently for photos, we decided to hire a whole vehicle for ourselves. I paid the full amount, which was 2800 rupees, or $62 US. Our driver bore a strong resemblance to Robert Goulet, a famous American actor.

What do you think?

The drive from Jammu to Srinagar was interesting, and in spring and summer, or when the air was clear, would have been really spectacular.

There were many monkeys all along the roads. Waiting for drivers to toss food to them.

We stopped for some food, and Tahir bought a loaf of bread to feed the monkeys through the restaurant window.

And across the road, the military keep watch. They are everywhere.

When our driver had a flat tire, he did his best to get it fixed right away, because any car stopped on the road makes the military nervous. And you don't want to make these guys nervous. Welcome to Kashmir.

Driving in Kashmir is not for the faint hearted. At every opportunity - and even when there is no opportunity, people pass. Here we have found ourselves passing, and not being able to pull back in soon enough, and have a Mexican standoff on the road. Someone has to back up or pull off the road. And there aren't many places to do that, on these narrow, winding mountain roads.

There was one place along the road where there are times when the wind becomes so strong that large trucks are blown off the road. These strong winds come up without warning, so this protective tunnel has been built as a way for people to find some shelter when these winds happen.

Another part of the road is famous for its landslides, and big rocks coming down and knocking vehicles over the cliff. As we approached it, I could see why.

I cannot imagine what this road would be like in the winter, with ice and snow all along it. I am fortunate that it wasn't closed in this late in the year!

So far, I had not had my passport checked, and was wondering if the overland route to Kashmir was like an easy back road in. But when we came to the Jawahar Tunnel (not my photo) the long 2.5 km tunnel which connects Jammu to Kashmir, all visitors were requested to stop and fill out papers. It was far easier than the process I went through when arriving by air earlier in the year, however. No questions about when did I arrive in the country, what airline, exactly where and when I would be staying during my visit, etc. I was on my way in 5 minutes. There were two guards at the table in the small room by the tunnel. The one filling out my form had his back to me as he sat at a table, and he never once turned around, handing my passport back to me over his shoulder. What was that about?

Taking the overland route to the Kashmir valley gives a much better understanding of how this culture has stayed intact, and why so much of the way people live has not changed in centuries. It is such a difficult and long journey that few people would take it, and the cultural exchange would have been minimal until paved roads and airplanes. The train has not arrived here yet.
After we emerged from the 50 year old tunnel, the air pollution was worse, and burnt my throat. The Kashmir Valley is beautiful, but being surrounded by mountains, there is little wind to blow away the pollution. The only time it clears up is after a day of rain or snow. I treasure those clear mornings, when you can see the mountains and the clouds that love them.

Kashmiris are always happy to be through the tunnel. It means they are home. On the other side of the tunnel the people are Hindu. On this side Muslim. And there was one Catholic church on the border mountain between. Ah, back in Kashmir proper.

Parentless

2009-12-10T20:29:00.000-08:00

While I was in New Zealand, finalizing my travel arrangements to head to Kashmir for a year of volunteering with the Hope Disability Centre (www.hopecentre.webs.com) I received an e-mail from my sister: Call me.
Ah, that can mean only one thing - trouble.

I called to learn that our father passed away after a short illness of only 3 days. He had been adjusting to life in the new nursing home in Red Wing, Minnesota, close to some of his daughters. He had been going on outings with the other residents of the home, and was teasing the staff as usual. And his sister (my aunt) Barbara and her husband Dean were there visiting him. But he began to feel bad, and had some pain. After a couple of days, the staff took him to the hospital, and learned that he had pneumonia. They brought him back to the nursing home, where he would begin a course of antibiotics. He was chatting with the staff as they were helping him get back into bed. But when he laid down in bed, he passed away. No one expected it. It was his time to go. He was 85 years old.

I was very happy for my dad when I learned how he passed, and that he finally got to leave this earth. He had wanted to go for several years, to rejoin my mother who passed away in 1996, and his second wife Jeri who passed in 2003, and all his good friends who went before him, especially Walt Bradley Sr. He was not happy watching his body deteriorate, and losing the ability to do the things he loved to do. His greatest loss I think was not being able to play golf any more. So now he has a new body, is reunited with loved ones, and in God's care. And he can golf all he wants to on the other side. What's not to celebrate?

So I quickly changed my plans, and went to the US for the memorial service, which was held in Algona, Iowa. Dad wished to be cremated, so the timing of the memorial service was flexible, and we set it up so that there was time for relatives (like me!) to come from far away. In this photo are me and my sisters, and my cousin Lynne, who is like a sister to us.

There are so many decisions to be made after a person passes. This was a real learning experience for all of us girls. We were very fortunate that Dad's affairs were pretty much in good order. He did not own a house, nor any land, nor any individual stocks and bonds. But even with a simple situation such as his, there is a huge amount of work involved in finalizing all his affairs. We all did, and are doing, what we could to help with the workload, to spread it out. We sisters are blessed to get along very well, and harmonious relationships are very important to us. I realize how unusual this can be in a family.

During this time in the US, I spent some time with my youngest sister Sharon and her family in Anamosa, Iowa. On the way there, I stopped at Burger King for a meal. No, I have not gone back to eating meat. I have discovered that some Burger Kings offer a veggie burger. I first learned of this at the LA airport, where I spotted it on the menu when walking past to my gate. It was very nice! So when I was on the drive from Algona to Anamosa, I thought I would try my luck at the Burger King in Waterloo. It was not on the menu, but since I was there, I thought I would ask anyway. And yes, to my delight, they could make it for me!! I was a very happy vegetarian. But there was more happiness in store for me. I sat down to eat my burger, and a sweet grandmother came up and asked me if I would like a mint, or some water, or some tomato sauce. I felt so cared for!! I had never had this kind of treatment in a fast food restaurant. It was such a special occasion I asked if I could take her photo. Here she is:

Sharon and Jeff's dog is named Keisha. Keisha gets along well with cats. And Sharon and Jeff had a new cat in the household named marble that liked to wrestle with Keisha. It was the most amazing thing to watch them. No growls, no hisses, no noise at all, while they wrestled. Keisha would put her jaws over Marbles throat, Marble would bite Keisha's face and ears and legs, and it looked for all the world like a fight to the death. Except that Keisha's tail would be wagging, and Marble's ears were never laid back, and neither of them were really biting the other. Classic pro wrestling. I did not have my little video camera with me at the time, but I would so love to put a video of it on YouTube.

Here is a photo of Jeff taking curlers out of Kalli's hair. I love to see dad's help raise their children - especially their girl children. It is all too rare in this world. Bless you, Jeff.

I also got to see my good friend Michele before leaving for Kashmir. She surprised me with a birthday cake and candles, because I was in New Zealand when my actual birthday took place (Oct 6)

It was a fast and furious 2 weeks, and I don't know when I will be back, which is the hard part. It seems I am always saying goodbye to people. Of course, I am always saying "Hello!!" too, but the goodbyes are much harder.

New Zealand Road Trip: Masterton and Carterton

2009-11-01T01:36:00.000-07:00

Leaving Hamilton, I continued my way south to Masterton. It was spring, spring, glorious spring. The many lovely shades and tints of green compelled me to stop and take this photo, even though there was no blue sky anywhere. It had been raining for days. I couldn't wait for the sun to appear.

In Masterton I stopped in and saw Martyn's parents and his sister Gayle. Gayle's front porch was dripping with flowers. Very romantic:

I had intended to head to Wellington to attend a weekend conference on Nonviolent Communication. Unfortunately, it was cancelled because too many people dropped out. I was disappointed, but it opened up an opportunity for me to pursue my interest in alternative currencies. I have been interested in this topic ever since beginning my study of the debt-based monetary system we live under, and what the solutions are. Alternative, local currencies are the answer, in my and many others' opinion. Masterton and Carterton in the Wairarapa district are hotbeds of activity in this field. I remember seeing a photo earlier this year of a print run of the new local Wairarapa currency, and I wanted to talk to the people involved. So I hopped on the Internet at the local library, and found out where their office was in Masterton. Eventually I found my way to Glenyss Kurtz, the treasurer. She was happy to sell some Wairarapa trading vouchers to me - at the current exchange rate of $1 NZ per 1 voucher. It so helps to show people a real life example of alternative currencies, when the conversation turns to our unsustainable financial system (especially the US currency).

Glenyss told me about Helen Dew in nearby Carterton, and suggested I meet her, too. So I rang her, and she kindly agreed to meet me for a chat that same day. Wow. What a lady. She has been living and breathing alternative currencies and lifestyle for many years, and is a wealth of knowledge. As she was talking to me, something told me to videotape her. She agreed, and I proceeded to make a movie of Helen discussing the basics of alternative currency. Here is the link to the YouTube video of Helen. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9ChKqC78tg

Helen's Living Economies website is www.le.org.nz

Helen invited me to stay the night, and I was grateful to get the chance to know her and her husband better, and meet Anneleise. Anneleise was recently hired to promote the new currency in the Wairarapa district. Best wishes, Anneleise!!

I chose to spend the weekend at a nearby campground, where I had a lovely cabin to myself, amid the dogwood blooms. The air was filled with birdsong, and the campground had many lovely trees and shrubs in bloom.

I took a wet walk through nearby reserve - all to myself, with beautiful huge kauri trees and ancient podocarp forest. Surrounded by clearcut farmland in all directions, it was a jewel of native plants.

Road Trip 1: Auckland to Hamilton

2009-10-27T01:46:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Kathy Light gave me a car to drive during my stay in Auckland. As in the US this year, I took advantage of the wheels to see people I would not have been able to see otherwise - not during such a short time in New Zealand, anyway!

As I drove toward Hamilton, I saw the sign I have seen for years as I drove south, advertising a herb garden with high tea. This time I stopped. It was a delicious treat for me.

In Hamilton, I stopped off in the beautiful Hamilton Gardens, before meeting my friend Annie Perkins of the Green Space.

Being spring, I knew there would be some lovely flowers in bloom. And I was not disappointed. Take a look:

Auckland's North Shore in Spring

2009-10-26T02:07:00.000-07:00

Ah, spring in New Zealand. I returned just after the tulips bloomed. This time I am staying with Donna Diamond and her daughter Megan, from church. Donna has a small guest room she keeps set aside for people who need a place to stay for a bit - whether due to a need to get some space from others. I have been very blessed to be in her guest room during my time in Auckland - because it has been an especially wet and cold spring, and life in a tent would have been really really miserable.

Being in Mairangi Bay, I am close to the beach, and one can walk for miles along the beach at low tide. Here are some photos of the North Shore in October:

My sister Sandy sent a care package to me for my birthday. I had Donna take a photo of me enjoying the birthday present she sent to me: Carlsbad Oblaten sweet wafers and beautiful peony napkins. I made some flower arrangements for Donna. One is growing out of my head in the photo.

I had a most beautiful cup of coffee at a north shore cafe - I had never seen one done like this.

After my first Sunday back at Harbour City Christian Church in Takapuna, I walked all the way back to Mairangi Bay, and took these photos along the way. The rock formations are volcanic and sedimentary.

West Coast USA

2009-09-27T02:39:00.001-07:00

I have not seen my West Coast relatives since I was just beginning this new chapter in my life - nearly 3 years ago. So I took the opportunity to visit them again before heading back to New Zealand. Aunt Barbara is a very accomplished artist. I have always seen her finished work, but on this visit I got to see the beginning drawing she starts with.

Cousin Tim took me up to Trout Lake to he and his family's cabin. We followed the Columbia River most of the way up. Beautiful! On the way we stopped to see a huge rock. It was the former core of a volcano. I helped Tim get started building a storage shed. It was the first time I had ever used a nail gun. Boy, does that save time!

That evening, we went up to a great viewing point for some photos. We both enjoy photography. This is one of Tim's favorite places. I can see why!

The next morning, a huge flock of crows in the trees outside was very agitated about something. I knew right away. It had to be an owl. Owls and crows are deadly enemies. I got a photo of the great horned owl in the tree, waiting until the crows tired of harassing it. Sometimes the crows kill the owls. It is payback for all the crows the owls kill, apparently. Here is a You Tube video (not mine) of crows harassing a great horned owl.

Among other wonderful times with my aunt and uncle and cousins, I went to one of my all time favorite gardens with Alicia, cousin Steve's wife. The garden was the Portland Japanese Garden. Here are some photos.

The night before leaving, Steve and Alicia and friends went to an amazing event - to see hundreds of thousands of chimney swifts gather and enter a chimney at the Chapman elementary school in Portland. Here is a YouTube video of the swifts taken the next night, by another person. You can really see them in the video. These are small, insect-eating birds which find safe places to roost during their migration. They used to roost in hollow trees. But with old growth forests being logged out, there are fewer options for the birds. The chimney has been popular since 1980. The school has built a second chimney when they upgraded their heating system, leaving the original chimney for the swifts.

County and State Fairs

2009-09-09T12:04:00.000-07:00

During this visit to the US, I was able to attend 3 county fairs and the Minnesota State Fair. I met up with sister Pat and neices Kalli and Jesina at a county fair in southern Minnesota, so I could see them all again before disappearing across the ocean once more.

Games of chance and skill, a

petting zoo with farm animals,

and a very funny magic act were enjoyed by all.

A whole afternoon and evening was spent at the largest state fair in the US, the Minnesota State Fair. Not much has changed here over the many years I have been going there. But the colourful hairdo on this girl caught my eye. I had never seen that before!

I used to stand for hours watching the riders warm up their horses before going into the hippodrome. I could get much closer to the horses this way, and sometimes they acted up, and then it got exciting. This time, my friend Ellen and I went to a rodeo of all high school students. I could not believe they would let such young people do bull riding and bronco busting. Several students and animals were hurt. It was the last rodeo I will ever attend without a protest sign in my hand. I felt sad for the animals and the humans who were hurt for this unnecessary entertainment. I saw an event I had never seen before. It was called Nanny Slamming. Wow. This one was really painful for me to watch what happens to the goat. It is already tied to a stake by a short rope when a rodeo contestant runs up to it and slams it to the ground and ties up its legs. Don't believe me? Take a look: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YJtvtR4f-g

I had attended the rodeo to see this guy and his horses: Tommie Turvey: There is no way his horses would do what they do if they were mistreated.

Twin Cities Musings

2009-09-09T11:57:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite churches to go to is the Unitarian Universalist church in Mahtomedi, Minnesota - on the East shores of White Bear Lake.

Every service begins with the following greeting:

Come into this place which we make holy by our presence. Come in with all of your vulnerabilities and strengths, fears and anxieties, loves and hopes. For here you need not hide, nor pretend, nor be anything other than who you are and who you are called to be.

Come into this place where we can touch and be touched, heal and be healed, forgive and be forgiven. Come into this place where the ordinary is sanctified, the human is celebrated, the compassionate is expected.Come into this place, together we make it a holy place.
-Rebecca Edmiston-Lange

I love the sermons, the focus on peace and service, the openness to all religions. Here is an excerpt from the sermon on one of the Sundays I was able to attend:

“[There] is a hard truth about forgiveness. It must often begin in anger and sadness,
because it begins with the discovery that some fundamental human trust has been betrayed.
The heart naturally recoils at this discovery, and is flooded with dark emotions. Yet it must overcome these emotions, and rise toward the light. If, in its desire to avoid these emotions, it turns away from the events that cause them, it is not acting with forgiveness; it is acting with denial…
“…What the forgiving heart must do is wade into the darkness, knowing that
against the light of goodness, darkness cannot stand. It must recognize the darkness, but act toward the light.
“This, it seems to me, is the key to forgiveness. When our actions are based in love
and a belief in the sanctity of all life, they are actions of forgiveness.”
— Kent Nerburn, Calm Surrender: Walking the Path of Forgiveness

Forgiveness. So difficult. But so very very necessary. To forgive: to cease to feel a resentment towards (an offender). Whether or not that person has apologized. Whether or not the person has stopped doing whatever it was that created the need for forgiveness. Seventy time seven are the requirements in the Bible for forgiving someone who keeps on offending. Wow. Want a challenge in life? There aren't many bigger ones than that. Here is a link to some of the sermons: http://www.whitebearunitarian.org/html/sermons.html

The Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul Minnesota have some lovely spots, which I was delighted to be able to visit again during my time in the US:

The sidewalk outside the Loring Pasta Bar, moved from Loring Park a few years ago to its new home in Dinkytown, by the University of Minnesota

Inside the bar/restaurant it is very very unique.

It reminds me of Antoni Gaudi's architecture in Barcelona, Spain.

On this visit I noticed some new things:
Beautiful bicycle racks by Milwaukee Avenue

Interesting lawn signs supporting walking and bicycling

A lovely statue of a girl reading a book - in the front yard of Mollie Hoben, a co-founder of the Minnesota Women's Press, a free distribution newspaper I was fortunate to help get started back in 1984.

These trees growing out of stumps remind me of the ever present opportunity we all have to re-create our lives anew.

Friends and Family Revisited

2009-09-09T11:33:00.001-07:00

By the time I arrived in the US, Dad was out of danger. So I took the rare opportunity to go up to Duluth with my sister Sue, on her way back from seeing Dad, for a short visit. Sue has become an amazing gardener,

with garden tours of her extensive gardens, and a plant sale every spring. I used to garden extensively too, so we have a deep love of gardening in common, as well as the experience of being on garden tours and potting up and labeling hundreds of plants every spring to sell.

Here are some of the leftover plants from this year's plant sale,

and some peonies in bloom in her garden:

Her husband Dean had built a lovely outdoor cat cage for cat lovers. He was asking only $55 for it.

It is a wonderful solution for cat owners who are afraid of letting their cats outside for fear of them getting attacked by a dog, or run over by a car. They may still have it. If you are interested, send me an e-mail.

I showed Sue my suitcase full of embroidered items from Srinagar, and she wants to help market them in Duluth!!! I am so very grateful for her offer. She has been making quilts and clothes and teddy bears and many other needle crafts for many years, and will soon be having her own craft show and sale, so she knows what sells. In a couple of weeks she will be receiving some samples of new embroidery ideas to assist the disabled embroiderers in Kashmir. This should be very interesting.

After my visit with Sue and Dean, I took a shuttle bus back down to the Twin Cities (Minneapolis/St. Paul) to sister Sandy and Patrick's house. Sandy saw me walk past her pink flowering bush in my Kashmiri clothes, and just had to get a photo - the colours were perfect.

Dad kindly let me use his car during my visit to the US. Sandy and Patrick had driven it back to their house so I could pick it It really came in handy!! I used it to get to presentations, to pick up and haul medical equipment, to bring Kashmir embroidered items around to others, and most importantly, to visit family and friends I have not seen in quite a while, and would not have been able to without a car.

So I hopped into this huge comfy car and headed off to Algona, Iowa to see how Dad was doing, and help as best I could. Northern Iowa. Flatland. Corn. Soybeans. Wind Generators. Hog confinements. And some of the most wonderful people anywhere. A place I called home for 2 and a half years, before beginning my nomadic life.

Dad was in the Good Samaritan nursing home in Algona, Iowa, just up the hill from his apartment, Van Buren Terrace. It was part of the Good Sam complex, so made it relatively easy for Dad to switch from the apartment to the nursing home.

Van Buren Terrace is the congregate living facility he had been living in since 2006. It allows people to live there who are 55 and over, but does not allow subletting. So I applied for and was given permission to live in his apartment for a month. It was heavenly!!! I walked in, closed and locked the door behind me, and could just feel the energy start flowing back into my system. Solitude is what restores me, I have learned on this journey, and if I go too long without it, it shows.

It soon became obvious that Dad would not be able to live on his own again in his apartment, so with his approval I gave notice. But what to do with his furniture? Where would he go after the nursing home? He might move into assisted living, where he could have his furniture. So it would be premature to sell it off. Storage. That's the ticket. But where? Algona, or closer to family? All these questions.... Eventually the family decided that Dad's grandson Nick could use Dad's furniture until he needed it, and the rest would go into storage in Lake City, the same town as my sisters Pat and Carol live in. So Carol and her husband Mike and their son Nick came to load up Dad's furniture and his clothes, etc. and take them away. I arranged for the truck, and boxed everything up before they arrived.

We got the truck all loaded in one day, and when they left, the apartment echoed. I still had another week to go, before taking Dad up north to Stillwater. So I slept on an air mattress on the floor, and had a folding table and a chair. The luxury of having all of Dad's furniture was lovely. After all the furniture was removed, the apartment felt very peaceful. Good for meditating, and living simply. I could really see and enjoy the light coming into the room.

During my month in Algona, I was very busy (no one will be surprised by this). Updating my blog with all the adventures in Kashmir, visiting Dad and doing all the things one does to help an elderly parent in the nursing home, organising and givine presentations, seeing my friends in Algona. Here is a photo of Patti, my friend who sent the care package to me in Kashmir:

One of the key items on my 'to do' list while in Algona was figuring out how to scan hundreds of 35mm slides from my previous travels around the world. Now was the time to do something with them, as my friend who was storing them safely in a humidity and temperature controlled environment was selling her business. They had to go! I tried scanning them myself with a scanner sister Sue had given me. The quality was not good enough. So I researched and selected Fotobridge to scan them for me. They did a good job, and their customer service people were great. Ah, all those amazing memories and photos safe at last. And the original slides are tucked under two different sisters' beds. I may need them someday for a book. One never knows. But if they disappear now, I have a single CD to replace them.

During my stay in Iowa I took a trip over to Anamosa, Iowa to see my sister Sharon and her family, and give a presentation at their church. There doesn't seem to be much of a recession in southeastern Iowa. Jeff, who has a lawnmowing and landscaping business, was busier than ever. Much of his work was replacing retaining walls, though, from last year's floods and this year's heavy rains. That is one job that homeowners don't often want to tackle on their own. And Jeff's walls last. Goes to show that when you do a good job, people will find out.

They had put in a new type of water feature as a display at their house. A 50 foot long stream with a pool at the bottom. The stream and pool stayed empty until the pump was turned on, so there was no danger of children drowning in the pool at the bottom, and the water stayed free of algae. Hmmm. Good idea. It is expensive, but very beautiful. Sharon and Jeff say they have eaten outside more this year than any other year, because of the stream and waterfall and the lovely sound of water rushing over the rocks. There it is again - humans' love of water in all its forms.

When they eat outside, they nearly always have s'mores, graham crackers with toasted marshmallow and chocolate. Way too sweet for me now. And even as kid, I could only eat one of them. Kalli, one of Sharon and Jeff's daughters, is showing hers for a photo.

Sharon is kindly taking care of all the orders placed in Anamosa - at the church, at the coffee shop, etc. Couldn't do it without her!

A week after Dad's apartment was emptied, it was time to bring him up north to a different nursing home in Red Wing, Minnesota. Dad had decided that he preferred to be closer to family than his friends in Algona, so we made the move. Pat had made the arragements, and I brought Dad up and got him settled in. He is there now, and I can e-mail him and the staff will print out an e-mail and a photo per day for him. This is a much better way for me to stay in touch with him, because in the nursing home now he rarely picks up his phone. I stayed overnight in Lake City with Pat, and we got in a game of Scrabble and had a lovely visit, and she made a generous financial donation to the Hope Centre.

I am very blessed to have such wonderful sisters. I have seen a number of families get torn apart when the parents have aged. Disagreements over care, over money, over independence of the parent, etc etc. My sisters and I are determined not to let this happen to us. Everyone has chipped in to help as much as they can, based on geography, family, and work situations. It hasn't been without its challenges, but it is working well so far.

I continued north from Lake City through Red Wing again, to Hastings, visiting my friends Arlene and Bob, and their cat Chairman Mao. Chairmain Mao was a very skinny, starving stray that I took in one night just before leaving Algona. In late November, 2006. He was the most grateful cat I have ever met. It happened that Bob and Arlene visited me the next day. I told them about the cat, and my concerns for it, because there was no animal shelter in Algona at the time, and I knew of no one who would want a cat. They decided to take him home with them! And Bob named him Chairman Mao.

I stayed at my friend Michele's house for a few days, while she and her daughter were on a mother-daughter camping weekend. Michele has created a lovely front yard garden which everyone enjoys. Her driveway gets converted into a lovely outdoor patio every summer.

My friend Ellen came by for lunch on the patio.

She bought many of Kashmiri embroidery samples I brought with me. But she wasn't going to get to enjoy them until September, because I wanted to show others what I had to place orders.

There was a Chinese girl student staying with Michele and her family, and while I was there she and her Chinese friends took over the kitchen and made Hot Pot - it was an all day meal. Very interesting. They kindly made a vegetarian option for me. Lots of cilantro. Yummy! And rice, which i was beginning to miss from Kashmir.

During a visit to the Twin Cities, I really wanted to have breakfast at Al's breakfast in Dinkytown. I asked sister Sandy to come with me. She had never been there before. We had a delightful breakfast, though I couldn't convince Doug to juggle a raw egg, a bottle of ketchup, and a pancake for the customers like he did once years ago. After breakfast, I took Sandy home the long way, and showed her some of the delights of the Twin Cities she had not seen before.

The Joan of Art gallery on Franklin Ave by the Mississippi River:

And the lovely historical homes on Milwaukee Avenue, nearby.

I visited my former neighbor and friend Laura in St. Paul. She is another avid gardener, and we lived next door to each other for 20 years! We had a great time walking the neighborhood, checking out the gardens, and she filled me in on what has changed in the neighborhood since I left in 1996. One thing that has changed is that chickens are allowed!! Here was a chicken coop in someone's front yard. One of the kind on wheels, so you can move it around the yard.

Laura's son Micah is a rower, paddler, and came home from the 2008 China Olympics with a bronze medal. Mom and dad are understandably proud!!

Before leaving my former neighbourhood, I stopped by to see Ann and Paul Brey, brother and sister who have lived in their family's home for a very long time. We had a delightful reunion, because I had not stopped in to see them since I left for New Zealand in 1997. And I wasn't sure who would come to the door when I knocked. But they were both there, and both just the same as when I had left. Remarkable!!! They had been very very kind to me in the past, and are both such dear, sweet souls. No internet for them, so I will stay in touch in other ways.

I returned to Algona for one more week, and stayed with my friends Kathy and Dave Gerber, who are corn and soybean farmers out on the prairie - big sky country.

I was busy by this time with medical equipment for Kashmir, but had time to help out on the farm one morning. Some corn had made it into a soybean field intended for seed crop. It had been sprayed to kill it, but still looked unsightly - especially to a farmer!

So Kathy and I went out and cut and pulled the corn out.

Now, nice and tidy. No more embarrassing corn in the soybean field.

Then it was off to Wisconsin! First I visited some friends who used to live in Algona, and moved to Wisconsin - Janette and Dan and their children.

Janette (seated), is Filipino. I met her at the county fair in Algona in 2005, where I had a booth to promote my business consulting. She told me that Buena Vista University was looking for people to teach business classes. I followed up on it, and taught 2 classes the following year, Principles of Marketing and Business Policy and Strategy.
We had a short but lovely visit, and she gave me some gifts to bring to the folks in Kashmir when I return. If you have ever seen or heard the wind chimes on my bike, they came from Janette. She grew up in a very poor family in the Philippines, and is now an attorney, and a department head at a major insurance company. She and Dan met in the Philippines. A remarkable family.

They live not far from my cousin Lynne and her husband Hank, in New Berlin, Wisconsin. My next stop. I had not seen them for several years. Since my last visit, Hank had gotten involved in radio controlled gasoline powered airplanes.
He told me how much training you need to have to fly them, and all the safety precautions for the owners and the audience when they are flown. People could be killed.

My father used to fly them as a young man.

Lynne showed me how she had organized her sewing and crafts. I was very impressed.

During my travels, I sometimes find myself helping individuals and organisations get organised, and I really like the system Lynne had. Plus, I have have had boxes in storage myself several times in my life so far. The plastic boxes are relatively transparent, so you can see what is in the box without an extensive labeling system. And they are individually accessible. You don't have to unload all the top boxes to get at the bottom one.

When she was showing me her system, we heard a noise inside one of the walls in this room, which was also the guest bedroom. Critters living inside the wall, we thought. But that night, when I went to bed, I heard it again. And whatever it was, it was not living in the wall. It was clearly trapped. For 10 minutes at a time, I would hear the squirrel or mouse or whatever it was jump up, and its claws scratching the wall on the way back down. Over and over, until it tired, and then an hour later it would do it again for another 10 minutes. My pillow was right next to the wall where it was trapped, so I awoke every time. What could I do? I resolved that whatever it cost, I would have to find a way to open up the wall and get it out, and pay for whatever damage it caused. I willed the little creature to rest, and stop jumping, that I would get it out in the morning, and please save your energy. It didn't work. But my morning it was much less active. But I could tell still alive. So as soon as I heard Lynne's husband Hank up and about in the house, I went to him and asked if he would be willing to help me get it out. They get mice and squirrels in their roof and house a lot where they live, and they do a lot of damage to the wiring in the house, so he was not overly enthused about the idea of cutting a hole in the wall to save a creature he kills many of every year. Even if I was willing to pay to have it neatly sealed up again. So he took the dog for a walk, and to my relief and gratitude, came up from the basement with a drill with a circular hole saw attachment. Yes!!!!

Hank used an infrared heat detector and a stud finder to pinpoint the location of the trapped critter, and proceeded to cut a hole in the wall. When he had finished, he put his gloved hand in and pulled out lots of insulation. It which shouldn't have been there because it was in inside wall. Along with the insulation were the skeletons of 7 small animals, however. This was clearly not the first time a creature had been trapped in this spot!

Once the insulation was out, Hank got a small flashlight inside, and saw that the current trapped animal was a mouse. I got a look at it when it briefly poked its head out the hole. A tiny field mouse with the cutest face!It was too quick for me to get a photo. This photo is from the Internet.

Hank got a pair of tongs, and was able to get a hold of it, but he didn't want to hurt it, so was holding it gently with the tongs, and the mouse escaped. And then it left the hole and scampered across Hank's hand and over my foot and disappeared under the storage containers. Oh oh. Now we have a mouse in the house, and not in the wall. So over breakfast, we broke the news to Lynne, who is not a fan of mice either, and I went online and researched live traps for mice. We were about to go buy one, when we discovered that their dog, Hunter (aptly named) had found and dispatched the mouse. So, the little mouse died a quick, natural death, rather than a prolonged and painful death in the wall, which was a good thing. And Lynne and Hank said they would buy the live mouse traps that can hold up to 15 mice to put in their attic, instead of laying out poison for them. Another good thing. So this little mouse was a catalyst to save many future mice from death by poisoning - at least by poisoning in Lynne and Hank's attic, anyway. And the hole in the wall might remain as a removable plug for future unfortunate mice who fall into that corner of the wall. Personally I would love to see a little handle put on it to make it easy to remove. I am very grateful for Hank's indulging my compassion for animals in this way. Thank you, Hank.

We had another couple of days together, and then it was time to head out again. I am constantly saying hello and goodbye to friends and family in this life. But I know I will see everyone again - if not on this side, than the other side. Speaking of which, the day I arrived Lynne was sorting through books - spiritual books that had belonged to her mother, my aunt Marjorie. I was very happy to be able to have some of Marjories books, and look forward to gradually reading them. One which I read right away was The Place We Call Home - Exploring the Soul's Existence after Death, by Robert J. Grant. Wow! There are many revelations and confirmations in this book. I will share one with you:

"As Dr. Ritchie illustrated, the souls that find themselves in the shadowlands or the earthbound realms after death are not being punished or condemned by any force or power except of their own making. The inner life creates the outer world of our existence after death. If we have spend a lifetime of holding grudges, harboring resentments, being prejudicial in our thnking, acting out of jealousy or hate or malice, those thoughts collectively form the bulding blocks that create a home in the shadowlands, the hellish realms. In accordance with universal law, that which we think, we become; that which we build, we move into. "

A very important reminder that we are here to learn to love everyone unconditionally. To forgive. To live in harmony. To put aside anger. To live according to the guidance of Jesus, Mohhamad, Buddha, Krishna. Many books on near death experiences have been written, but almost none of them discuss anything negative about the experience. This book covers the negative things that can happen at death to people who choose darkness over light, anger over forgiveness. It also explains very precisely how it is that some souls hang around earth, and what all of us can do to help them. Prayer after someone dies is especially helpful to those who have recently passed. An Edgar Cayce quote in the book reaffirms this:

"Prayer for those who are seeking a way, the way to the Light, aids ever. As ye meditate - as ye pray - for as thy body is indeed the temple of he living God, there He hath promised to meet thee...pray that there may be the light, the help needed, that they (the deceased) may be guided in the way and manner which will bring all together in the way as He, thy Lord, would have it."

Heading back toward Minnesota, I stopped to see my friend Sherry in Luck, Wisconsin. Sherry had an close call healthwise this past year, and was recovering from successful surgery. She was going to be fine, she has a wonderful man to look after her, and I am very very happy for her.

More friends, more lovely times, and then it was time to visit Dad one more time and then get on a plane to visit relatives in Portland, Oregon and Vancouver, Washington.

Being of Use in the US

2009-09-07T13:48:00.000-07:00

While I was in the US, it was a good time for me to begin speaking about my experiences in Kashmir. I gave 7 presentations in Iowa in July and August. Churches, Rotary, Kiwanis, Dad's nursing home, and his apartment building friends. People kindly donated money to help Sami and the disabled of Kashmir, which was great.

Just as important to me was the opportunity to break down some of the stereotypes of Muslims among people who, like me, have been taught by the media to equate all Muslims with terrorists and misogynists. Most Americans realize that the mainstream media blows things all out of proportion, and is quick to create monsters where none exist. This approach sells newspapers. Since people know in their hearts that Muslims cannot possibly be as bad as portrayed, nearly all of the people who listened to me were open to my experiences with the tolerant, kind, peace loving and long suffering Kashmiri Muslims I met and lived with. And if there were any who were not open to it, they were tactful enough not to say anything to me.

The two churches I spoke at were most generous, and happy to help the disabled of Kashmir. The Anamosa Iowa United Methodist church members had many questions for me after my talk. My sister Sharon who lives in Anamosa saw that I would not be able to take orders for the Kashmiri embroidered items I had brought with me, so she stepped in to help. It felt like the whole congregation was buying something! Sharon also kindly offered to deliver the items when they arrived. It has been a lot of work taking the orders and keeping everything straight, but very good to know what people most like, for future sales on the Hope Centre website.

The good folks at the First Presbyterian Church in Algona, Iowa were also very generous. After my talk, they donated enough money to ship 7 boxes of donated orthopedic equipment to Kashmir from Iowa, and calibrate an audiometer.

Many of us went to lunch together, and I was able to share the photos on my laptop with them.

I gave 5 more talks during my time in Iowa. The churches were far and away most supportive and interested in what I had to say. Probably because I have attended both of them in the past. I enjoyed all the talks very much, and now that I really have something important and interesting to talk about, I plan on giving talks as often as I can in New Zealand and the US.

The medical equipment was given to me by Global Health Ministries in Minneapolis. I tracked them down by asking the hospital in Algona if they had any used supplies or equipment I might have for Kashmir. All of the hospital's used equipment and unwanted supplies were sent to Global Health Ministries in Minneapolis, they said. No problem. I was going to Minneapolis anyway, so I paid the organisation a visit. Global Health Ministries collects medical equipment and supplies from around the 5 state area: Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, North and South Dakota. Hospitals, nursing homes, clinics and medical distributors give the items. Volunteers sort the items, repair what they can, and eventually ship them overseas to Lutheran hospitals. Hope Disability Centre is not a Lutheran hospital, but Global Health Ministries kindly made an exception for me, since I was picking up the shipping cost and am, in effect, a missionary. And because they get more donated goods than even the Lutheran hospitals can use at times.

Scott Lien, the Operations Manager, loaded up a cart for me with everything I could think of that Sami might want.

I had to stop Scott after a while. I wasn't sure I could get all of these boxes into Dad's car! They just barely fit, and I spent a week at Kathie and Dave Gerbers, sorting them and finding out what Sami really needed out of them.

And figuring out the cheapest way to ship them all the way to Kashmir. I ended up using the good old US Postal Service, but it cost $600. Bob at the Algona Post office said "We made a profit today!"

I am now researching how else I can get these items to the Hope Disability Centre more cheaply. $600 is a lot of money to come up with for shipping.

Kathie and Dave were very tolerant of me taking over their living room for a whole week, as I sorted and re-sorted all the items. I got all the boxes filled and out of the living room the morning that their family arrived in town for a big get together. Just in time!

The next chance I got, I volunteered for a day at Global Health Ministries. I was assigned to Rough Sort - opening up the boxes from the hospitals and figuring out what categories of items they were, and putting them into the correct bins. I wouldn't have been able to do it without the help of my co-volunteer, who was a nurse.

It was like Christmas, opening up these unlabeled boxes and seeing what was inside. Or like going through my boxes I have stored at the homes of friends and family around the world.

The day before I left for Portland, I returned to Global Health Ministries to pick up some hearing aids. Leo, a long time volunteer for the organisation, had a collection of used hearing aids which no one had wanted. 3 years worth. He arranged for someone to clean the wax out of them, and gave them to me along with batteries and a small tool to clean wax out of hearing aids. What a sweetheart! Sami can really use hearing aids. While there, I met Sue Stroebel, and her daughter. I showed Sue the photos of Kashmir, and she offered to contact nursing homes to collect more hearing aids for the Centre. Wow!! I cannot even believe how generous and helpful people are here. Every day I have been blessed with support and encouragement for the disabled of Kashmir.

So between selling and taking orders for embroidered goods, and giving talks on Kashmir, I made the most of my time in the US to help the disabled of Kashmir.

An Elderly Parent

2009-09-07T10:02:00.000-07:00

By the time I had reached the US from India, my father was out of danger. He had been released from the hospital and was in Good Samaritan nursing home in Algona, Iowa. Many questions were in the air. Would he be able to move back to his apartment and congregate living with one prepared meal a day and no one checking to see if he was taking his meds? Would he be able to move into the assisted living building from the nursing home, where he would have some medical help? Would he be getting a pacemaker, surgery for his bladder cancer, surgery for his prostate cancer? Would he survive any of these surgeries at his age? (85). Would he want to stay in Algona, or move closer to his family? How long would I stay in the US to help him? As each question got answered, it raised more questions. Over the course of a month or so, all these questions and more were answered. I am most pleased that no decisions were forced on Dad. He got to decide on all of these critical decisions regarding his life. So there are no hard feelings between Dad and his daughters.

So now, in early September, he is still in a nursing home, but one that is closer to some of his daughters. No surgeries are planned. I feel free to continue my volunteer work and return to India, after I stop off in New Zealand to do my taxes. No more round trip airline tickets for me for a while, though. There is no telling when Dad may leave this world.

Indian Hitchhikers

2009-09-07T08:13:00.000-07:00

Hitchhikers. Stowaways. Uninvited guests.
I started to get sick before leaving Kashmir. Fever, headache, really bad diarrhea. No worries. I had magic pills given to me by my travel doctor for just such an event. Powerful antibiotics, and I only had to take them for 3 days. I took them. Nothing changed. I also took my probiotic pills, and ate lots of yogurt. Nothing changed. I was well enough to get on the plane, and had no embarassing accidents on the 14 hour flight from Delhi to Chicago, but was not well. I was beginning to think I might need to see a doctor once I got to the US. But I would need to notify my travel insurance company first, and be sure I was covered in the US before I went to a doctor there. So one of the first things I did once I arrived was contact the insurance company and pay for an upgrade for coverage in the US. That took a few days. A few days where I found I had to sleep more and more, and my energy was rapidly draining from me, despite all my sleeping. And the diarrhea continued as bad as ever. I began to think I might have to go to the emergency room. I began to wonder if my thyroid might be not getting what it needed to function, so I made sure to get plenty of iodized salt. That seemed to help. Once I had my US travel insurance coverage, I e-mailed them and let them know I was going to see a doctor for whatever it was I had. They wrote back and told me I would not be covered for it, because it started in India and I didn't tell them about it before I left India!!!! I was not happy about that, but I was grateful that I found it out before I saw a doctor. Who knows how big a medical bill might have been worked up as they ran tests, probably more antibiotics that wouldn't have worked, etc. And I would have submitted my claim form, sure in my knowledge that I had good medical coverage, only to have it rejected. That would have been much more painful. So once I knew I couldn't see a doctor, I began some research, and concluded that I had parasites. Itchy butt, bloating, diarrhea, etc. I had become less and less careful about the water I was drinking in Kashmir, as the weeks progressed. I felt fine. Thought my body was adjusting. Wrong move.

I was telling this story to my friend Patti in Iowa, and she told me about a colon cleanse product she had been using that might help. It worked on parasites, she said. I researched the company online, www.drnatura.com. It sounded good, but there was no mention of parasites on the website. So I called them, and asked about this. Oh yes, they said. It works on parasites. But we can't say anything on our web site any more because we have recently been bought out by a large pharmaceutical company. Good enough for me. Patti had an extra box of the product, and I started taking it. I really do try not to kill any creatures - of any type. And I really didn't mind sharing my food with whatever these creatures were. But when they took all my energy, that was too much. I like my energy. I am not ready to give it up. So they had to go. I hope this product encouraged them to leave, rather than killed them. I have no idea. But it did work. My energy slowly came back. The itching stopped. I could fart without a panic attack.

I am on my second month of using the product now, and my energy is almost completely back to normal. My test was imagining myself climbing Victoria hill in Auckland with a fully loaded bike and trailer. For weeks that image gave rise to dread. Now I am neutral. When I look forward to the challenge of it, I will know I am completely healed.

Kashmiri Weddings

2009-07-13T08:11:00.000-07:00

I went for a bicycle ride one day, and when I returned, I passed along the small side street many villagers all dressed up in their finest. They were happy and laughing and everyone I passed invited me to join them. There was a wedding in Wayil. I was hot and sweaty from my ride, and certainly not dressed to go to a wedding, but my young friend Diya (in the coral top with black hair) was so persuasive, that I asked Sami if it was OK. He said I should just go and see the wedding tents. So I went with Diya, and then the wedding party invited me to stay for the meal. How could I refuse??

I had heard so much about Kashmiri weddings, and the famous wazwan feast, that it was a good opportunity for me to experience it. The wazwan meal of many courses is nearly entirely meat, but there was one dish with cheese, so this is what I would eat. First we sat in groups of 4 in the huge wedding tent. Men and women each had their own tents. Then we were presented with a silver urn and washbasin so we could wash our hands just before the meal.

Then a huge plate of rice was placed in the centre of each group of 4 peopls. I got my own small plate of rice, being the only vegetarian there. With the only cheese dish on the menu. And then the meat started coming - dish after dish. There was far too much for any one person to eat, so plastic bags were also handed out so guests could take home the extras. Nothing is wasted.

Just when I thought the meal was finished, around they would come again with some new special meat dish to ladle out onto the rice, and the rice was replenished frequently as well.

The meal lasted well over an hour, and it was a source of amusement for everyone to have this foreign lady join them, and eat with her hand, just like they do.

The final dish was this huge meatball, several inches in diameter. They call this the "full stop", which is another name for the period at the end of a sentence. How appropriate.

Then, after washing our hands again, we had a packet of mixed herbs and mint candies to freshen our breath. Very nice.

Before leaving, I met with the groom and gave a wedding gift, and was also introduced to the bride, who was in a separate room, in all her glory.

After returning to Sami's family home, one last photo of me and the kids.

Last Day in Kashmir

2009-07-13T16:50:00.000-07:00

My passport and tickets safely in my bag, and a whole suitcase full of beautiful Kashmiri embroidered goods, it was time to say goodbye to people and head for the airport. I had one very special delivery to make. A new pheran for my friend Rathi at the bakery. This tiny widowed woman had befriended me and gave me short lessons in Kashmiri every morning, and usually an extra piece of bread - piping hot from the oven. One morning she gave me two hard boiled eggs. And the chain from her neck, and the ring from her finger. In my shopping trip, I made sure I had a tiny pheran in muted colour just for her. I was delighted that it fit her!! And she was very very happy, too.

A few other goodbyes, and it was time to head to the airport. Tahir met us on the road and had a vegetarian pizza for me. I was sick, though, and could only eat one small piece.

We made it to the airport in plenty of time, and with one last photo of Sami and me, I was off to the US. I will return to Kashmir, but now with all these photos, and many videos to turn into movies, I have plenty of work I can do for Sami and the disabled of Kashmir from wherever I am in the world. I am now ready to speak to any group who will have me.

Leaving Kashmir

2009-07-13T15:54:00.001-07:00

My father has been having some health issues. I have been monitoring them from Kashmir, and carefully reading all my sisters have been relaying. When he fell at his apartment building, and his heart rate fell to 30, it didn't look good. He was hospitalized, and released to a nursing home. Saying things like he didn't want to be around for his 85th birthday (July 1). It was time to go see him. I had planned to be in Kashmir until October, so I scrambled to make these changes in my plans. Sami's travel agency is Fly High Tours and Travel. I don't think Kashmiris understand how humorous this is to foreigners - especially ones who know that Kashmir is a place where opium poppies and marijuana grow wild.

I wanted to bring samples of Kashmiri embroidery to the US for gifts and to show examples of what the disabled women and men of Kashmir do to help make a living for their families. Tahir took me back to Dal Lake to a houseboat where the shop owners support women and the disabled.

I was treated to tea and a demonstration of one of the embroidery techniques. And I had the shop to myself, and the shopkeepers showed me many many beautiful items. I bought as much as I could afford.

The place looked like a tornado had been through it by the time I left.

For a great informative article on Kashmiri embroidery, click here

The Ring Ceremony

2009-07-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

One Sunday Sami came to my room and asked if I was busy. "No, what can I do for you?" He asked me to come with him to his cousins' house. I always go where Sami leads. Had I known what was in store, I would have cleaned up and changed into something more suitable for the occasion! As it turns out, I was invited to participate in Sami's cousin's ring ceremony. Zefir was getting engaged!!

Many of the family were there when I arrived, dressed beautifully, and everyone was very excited, and anxious. Someone was coming. They would be here soon. Who??? Gradually I was told what was going on. Zefir was about to meet the family of his beloved for the first time today. It was a really big deal. Zefir was very nervous. At first it was like a surprise birthday party. As soon as the lookout said "They're coming!", all the women and nearly everyone else disappeared upstairs. I was not sent upstairs, so I went outside to watch the arrival, and take a photo.

Two men arrived bearing covered trays, which were given to another cousin.

Then they (and I) were ushered into a room with beautiful carpets and cushions. As it dawned on me what was going on, I went to get my video camera as well as my digital camera, to document this special day in Zefir's life.

Greeting hugs,

distribution of sweets and nuts,

cake and tea,

special wazwan meal - just like at a wedding

some very stilted conversation, and the uncle of Zefir's fiancee (her father is dead) placed a golden chain around Zefir's wrist.

Kashmiris are normally very talkative people. But we sat there for 3 hours and much of that time was perfectly silent. And I don't think I heard a peep out of Zefir the whole time!! When Sami said it was time to leave, I expressed my gratitude at being present at this very momentous occasion, and departed.

The two men were the fiancee's uncle and her brother. Zefir had not met either of them before. The way marriages work in Kashmir in modern times is that the couple meet often through work, and then they ask their parents to arrange the marriage for them. Cell phones are very useful tools for staying in touch, because physical touch is absolutely forbidden. Boyfriends and girlfriends are not to exist at all. No premarital sex, no living together before marriage. And no inclusion in each other's family get togethers until after this ring ceremony. It is called a ring ceremony, but there is no exchange of rings at this time. If it was a Hindu marriage, there would be an exchange of rings. The term 'ring ceremony' has been borrowed from Hindu Indian culture, but only the name has been borrowed. This was a bit confusing for me, until I researched it online.

2009-07-13T13:01:00.001-07:00

Ganderbal Garden
Here are some photos of a beautiful garden I visited in Ganderbal town one day when I decided to go for a bike ride on my new bike. It was a very enjoyable ride, and a lovely garden to wander in.

Kupwara

2009-07-13T10:08:00.001-07:00

Finally - a trip to Kupwara! The outreach post near Pakistan-occupied Kashmir. Where it is not always safe to go. I had heard about this place for months, and now was finally able to go there.

We left Wayil just after 7:30 am. Sami, Mathieu from Handicap International, and me. Our first stop was in the town of Sopore, where community organisers had contacted many of the disabled in the area, and told them Hope Disability Centre would be coming.

We arrived in Sopore around 10:30. The German photographer Andy joined us there along with Sami's brother Tahir. The Handicap International team wanted to interview the community leaders, and they did this while Sami assessed the disabled of Sopore, and I documented it all in photos and video.

A large tent had been set up, with a table and a couple of chairs. About 30 disabled children and adults were sitting on the rugs inside the tent waiting for us.

Sami wasted no time, and began immediately interviewing the people waiting for him, and noting critical details in his notebook.

I took photos and videos of these new additions to Hope Disability Centre's log of the disabled of Kashmir. Sami worked quickly. He spent little time with adults he could not help, and a fair amount of time assessing children whose disability might be quickly and completely corrected through surgery.

More people kept coming. He assessed 40 people in 2 and a half hours. Over half of them were disabled from polio.

At one point tea and bananas were handed out to the people in the tent.

Sami could not see them all. He had to stop and we continued on to Kupwara.

Sami identified 6 children who could have their disabilities corrected wih fairly simple surgery. With his doctors donating their time, he can get these surgeries performed for between 2000 and 3000 rupees each, or between $40 and $60 each. But he doesn't have the $40 or $60 to have the surgeries done, and has to wait until donatons come in.

We continued our trip on a very bad road filledwith nearly invisible but very big speed bumps. Because the ambulance/van had broken down and was being fixed, we were driving Tariq's small car. It did not like the roads one bit. This photo shows that a bridge destroyed in the fighting over the years has still not been replaced. Because I got out of the car to take this photo, we were stopped by the military. They do not like people taking photos!!!

We arrived late in the afternoon. About a km before we reached the centre, we went through a gate, at a military camp. This gate is closed every day at 5 or 6 pm, as it is very close to the Pakistan border. Jut one more hurdle for people in this area to deal with.

When we arrived at the Hope Kupwara centre, (the sign has been damaged by gunfire) there were 4 village workers waiting for us, to meet Mathieu from Handicap International. He asked them a few questions, and then they left to return to their villages. One of them lived 35 km away. How did she get home? I saw no cars there.

The Kupwara facility is a rented home. It doesn't look very inviting from the street, but inside is quite nice.

I took the opportunity to go up to the open storage area on top of the main living quarters, and have a look around.

I went for a walk along the river with the younger sister of Kounsa, the Kupwara physiotherapist as my guide.

A crowd of children gathered, so I decided to photograph them, and then them with me.

I was surprised to learn that our physiotherapist in Kupwara, Kounsa, is on a softball team which travels throughout India to compete with other teams. I also learned that last year, when Rob Buchanan was visiting Kupwara with Sami, they woke to shouts and screams in the village. It was a terrorist, all right. A bear had come down from the mountains in the night and attacked the children in the village the next morning. 40 children were injured before they were able to stop the bear. Only the police and Indian military can have any kind of firearm in Kashmir. Even straight edge razor blades are not available here. They may even be banned. I don't know. brought one with me to clean windows, and wondered why thee was still paint on the windows of Hope Centre 3 years after it was built.

That evening I ate dinner in the kitchen with all the women, and then we all slept together in one bedroom. There were 9 of us. It was like a slumber party! I was the honoured guest, so I got the only bed in the room. It soon became obvious that there wasn't enough floor space for everyone, so I moved over in the single bed and motioned that someone could sleep with me. One of the younger girls jumped right in. And at some point in the night we were joined by another girl, making 3 of us in the small bed. It wasn't a problem, though, since all of us were sleepers who stay put, and don't thrash around in our sleep.

The next morning I went for a walk in the village, and found a beautiful mosque. The village has two mosques. This was very small compared to the other one.

I hope to return and spend more time there in the future.