Keeping My Hands Warm
It’s been getting seriously cold here; the night temps now hover around freezing. Our neighbors are dipping into their charcoal sacks, and I’ve been learning about the unique local heating system. It’s called a kangar. 
The theory here is that heating up a whole house, or even a whole room, takes lots of fuel. So it’s better to simply heat up each individual family member.
The kangar is a personal charcoal heater. It consists of a clay bowl in which coal is burned, set into a holder made of woven rattan. The holder can be carried by its handles, so each person is able to bring his personal kangar with him wherever he goes. Paired with the wool ferrin everyone wears, it’s an efficient system. The kangar can be worn under the ferrin hanging from a cord around the neck. At home in the sitting room, each person keeps his or her kangar close, where it can be used to warm hands or feet. My neighbor showed me how to sit on the floor with the kangar between my knees, then arrange my ferrin over it like a tent. Then I pull my arms to the inside so that my whole body can soak up the kangar’s warmth. Not bad! She told me that she has her kangar with her all the time in the winter; she even sleeps with it under her quilt! (She added that this is only safe if you can sleep all night without moving!) 
It’s a unique and efficient system, but it has its drawbacks. Every child has probably been burned at least once by upsetting a kangar, and the same could probably be said for every rug. The charcoal smoke stings the eyes, and there is a high incidence of respiratory problems among our neighbors. But I find it fascinating to see how people in different places use the resources they have to solve problems in creative ways. The people of this region have been keeping themselves warm with kangars for centuries. Our electric heater only works when there’s electricity, which is around half the time. As the winter closes in, perhaps I’ll be warming my hands over a kangar more and more often!
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged Kangar by Lisa
Smoky Winter Ritual
Preparations for the winter are continuing here in the foothills of the Himalayas. Making charcoal is an important ritual that I have been observing up close—so close that my sweater smells smoky. 
Can you spot the man at work high up in the poplar tree? He’s cutting off branches that will be gathered below. Most of the poplars that we see from our window are now completely bare, shorn of branches and golden leaves.
I watched our neighbors making charcoal in the yard next door. I noticed that it was the women doing this heavy and dirty work, and they explained that in their family, the men brought the wood but the women did the burning. They first piled up bark, leaves, and the smaller branches, and then they made a teepee over the pile out of the long branches. After setting the pile on fire, they continued to add more small branches, leaves, and bark to cover the fire.
Occasionally they splashed it with water to keep it from burning too fast. You can imagine that this smoldering pile sent up plenty of smoke. Since charcoal-making is done by many families in the valley this time of year, our normally crisp view of the surrounding mountains is obscured by smoky haze (smog?) most days.
I watched as the women continued to add fuel to the smoldering fire and then turned it over and over with shovels. The goal was a slow and even burn. The finished product: a pile of shiny charcoal, bagged up the next day, ready for use in winter heating.
I enjoyed being out in the yard with the women, where I could move close enough to the fire to warm my chilly hands. My neighbors didn’t need any warming; the hard work of lifting and tossing wood, turning the burning pile over and over with a shovel, and raking coals in from the edges kept them sweating. My experience with our neighbor women so far has been mostly sitting with cups of chai, or greeting in the bazaar. Seeing them laboring all day in this hot and dirty ritual has given me a new appreciation for their energy. They only do this particular job a few times a year, and I imagine there were some sore backs the next morning. But as the days and nights get colder, their children and husbands will feel their strength and love in the warmth coming from the black coals.
Next time: How they use the charcoal for heating—I didn’t believe it until I came here and saw it with my own eyes…
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged charcoal by Lisa
Are You Ready for Winter?
Sharp changes in the weather over the past two weeks have signaled that winter is on its way. The sun sets earlier each day. The poplar trees are turning golden, and the chinars a brilliant red.
view from our window
Yesterday it rained most of the day and into the night, and when we looked out our widow this morning we saw snow on the mountains for the first time since April! We have never lived in a place that freezes in the winter; dealing with snow and below-zero temperatures will be a new experience for us!
Among the important things we have to learn from our local friends are the traditional ways of surviving the cold. Among the most significant: a heavy outer garment, something between a poncho and an overcoat, usually made of wool. This garment is called a “ferrin,” and two weeks ago I visited my friend Shaha to get her advice on having one made. She pulled out one of her ferrins and showed me the special style of sleeve that only married women wear.
wool ferrin, wool sheep
She taught me the words for the embroidery around the neckline, the pocket, and the hem, and encouraged me to look for the heaviest, warmest fabric I could find. She showed me how the hem should reach halfway down my calf in order to be the proper length, and of course urged me to buy plenty of extra fabric because I’m so tall! She gave me suggestions for where to shop; in areas that were flooded, fabric shops may have lost all their inventory. Finally, she ticked off all the other clothing I would need: Sweater? Long underwear? Warm socks? Wool headscarf?
As we talked in Shaha’s sitting room, seated on her rug, we shared a blanket draped over our legs. Her daughter brought us cups of chai. The warmth of her home and friendship made me reluctant to leave for the chilly walk home. Speaking of home, our apartment also needs some serious preparation for the winter—insulation on the walls is next on the list! But most important for surviving the winter: good friends and the warmth of their care for me.
Posted in Uncategorized by Lisa
Sister Time
Last weekend I had the privilege of hosting my sister for a short but sweet visit. Her husband and two friends were along as well; the four of them were enroute to teach some seminars in central India. I had been looking forward to her visit for months, and had made lots of plans for all the things we could do together. I wanted to show her all the beautiful places and introduce her to all the interesting people that I have discovered in these past months. 
One of those beautiful places is a hillside garden planted among Moghul-era ruins, which we enjoyed despite the rain.
Two and a half days went by much too quickly, so most of the places and people I love will have to wait until my sister’s next visit. But her presence here meant a great deal to me. In this place where no one has known me for longer than 7 months, it was tremendously refreshing to relax with someone who has known me almost all my life—and loved me for most of it! Some of our adventures here brought back memories of other adventures together in different places. And sharing new experiences added to our already deep memory bank. My sister and I are similar in many ways, and it was such a pleasure to appreciate the same beauty together, and laugh at the same funny situations.
One of our favorite memories is of a trip across the lake
to picnic on an island. We were rowed in a traditional boat called a “shikara,” in which we relaxed on soft cushions and watched the shoreline slip by. During rare breaks in our conversation, we soaked in the quiet and peace of the still lake. In some way this new world of mine is richer and more real now that my sister has shared it. As I learn to love this unique place and its people, I know that she is loving it with me.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged sister by Lisa
Harvest Time
There’s no doubt about it—summer is definitely over. Autumn is here, and the nights have a wintery chill to them. Along with autumn in North India comes the rice harvest. The rice was planted in the spring, shortly after we arrived, so seeing it harvested gives us the feeling of reaching a milestone of sorts. We’ve lived here through the lifecycle of one crop!
As we walked to our language lessons in the spring, we watched the rice fields being prepared. The heavy black earth was cultivated by plowing oxen or by tractor. The terraces were carefully leveled out before being flooded from the mountain streams, full with melted snow. The farmers planted their rice seed in small sections, close together. 
After the rice plants had sprouted, the tedious work of transplanting the seedlings began, row after row of neon-green shoots into the flooded terraces. The farmers performed this back-breaking work with grace and efficiency. Then, through the summer, the rice grew in vivid green waves, waist-high by September. 
When our area was hit by historic flooding last month, we worried about the rice harvest. But rice is a crop that’s made for marshes, and as long as its roots remain anchored in the mud and its leaf tips can reach a little air and sun, rice can handle a lot of water. So the harvest has come! As they dried out, the fields turned golden, and then brown. The farmers brought out their short sickles and cut the rice stems close to the ground, then stacked them in the fields. 
At the edge of one field I watched a group of men separating the grain from the harvested stalks—they grabbed handfuls of the rice stalks, then hit them against a metal drum lying on its side! After a few minutes of beating, the grain had all fallen onto a tarp laid on the ground under the drum, and the empty stalks were tossed aside to store for winter animal feed.
Very soon the last of the rice will have been harvested and stored away, and the fields will be empty but for short dry stubble. My husband came home yesterday with a sack of rice, purchased directly from a local farmer. It’s a new experience to know exactly where the rice we are eating comes from! Rice now means more than food to me; it means beauty, and community, and hope for the future.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged rice harvest by Lisa
Not Just Any Sheep!
This lamb is a survivor! Among the casualties of last month’s flooding were many sheep… they are not good swimmers. Last week, after returning home, we celebrated the biggest Muslim holiday of the year, the Eid al-Adha. It was a subdued celebration; many people had lost homes, businesses, and some had lost friends and family members. Some people had lost the sheep they had been caring for in anticipation of the Eid feast.
The Eid al-Adha commemorates the story of Abraham’s near-sacrifice of his son, in obedience to God’s command (The Muslim story is the same as the one we are familiar with, except that the almost-sacrificed son is Ishmael, rather than Isaac). Traditionally, at the end of Ramadan (which was two and a half months ago) those who can afford it purchase one or two sheep to keep in the yard and fatten up for this big holiday. My neighbor explained to me that part of the reason for buying a sheep in advance is that by keeping it at your house for two months, you become attached to it and you feel like the sheep is a part of your family. Then, when you slit its throat for the Eid feast, you grieve like Abraham did when he was faced with sacrificing his son, so the sacrifice becomes more meaningful. It’s only a sacrifice when it’s something you care about.
Not only do our neighbors fatten their Eid sheep, they treat it with special care and respect. 
You probably can’t tell from this photo, but our neighbor’s large sheep has been washed, has henna designs on its hooves, and is wearing eye makeup carefully applied by the women of the house! The sheep was readied for the party at which he was to be the main course. The lamb in the top photo survived both the flood and the holiday; he was too young to be sacrificed this year. By next year’s holiday he will be old enough for henna and makeup!
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged sheep by Lisa
More Flood!
The flooding in our area went from bad to worse. Swollen rivers poured into the lake from every direction, and the lake overflowed its banks and submerged most of downtown. Out of concern for our safety, our Embassy arranged for us to be evacuated by the Indian military, along with a group of other foreigners. As a result, I’m writing this from a guest house in Delhi.
Better a boat than a car
For many of us, one of the things that turned this flood into a crisis was the complete lack of news or communications. Shortly after I posted my last blog entry, the city lost internet and phone service, as well as electricity. From then on we got almost no “hard” news about what was happening outside our neighborhood. There were rumors of catastrophic flooding, bridges under water, and people trapped on housetops, but no one knew the truth. Many of our neighbors had family members living near the lake, but without phone service, they couldn’t get in contact to find out whether they were safe. We couldn’t even get in touch with our co-workers without driving to their house—and we had to take a long, roundabout way to bypass the flooded lakeshore. We felt anxious and uncertain; it’s been a long time since I’ve felt so cut off from the rest of the world.
Without news or communications, the Embassy’s recommendation to evacuate came as a surprise. It turned out to be a long, somewhat chaotic trip, with periods of waiting interspersed with tense and hurried movement.
The copter- our ride to the airport
The most memorable part was the leg we flew by helicopter; all the roads to the airport were flooded, so the military was flying groups of tourists and foreigners there to board planes. A military helicopter is an impressively powerful machine; if we hadn’t been told to sit down on the tarmac before it landed, the blast of wind from its blades would have knocked us over. As we lifted off and flew over the city, we saw for the first time, through the windows, the devastation that we had only heard rumors of. Murky brown water covered much of downtown; two-story houses could only be spotted by the peaks of their roofs. While most people had been rescued, their homes and businesses were all but destroyed.
The other thing that I will remember about our evacuation is the group of people I got to know. All foreigners (mostly Americans) who had come to North India to love and serve its people, most of us didn’t know each other well and were thrown together in this unexpected journey. For some, especially those who had lived there for many years, it was wrenchingly hard to leave neighbors and friends behind. Our group had as many small children as adults, so those of us without kids along helped out; I had a co-worker’s two-year-old girl as my “helicopter buddy” for the day. A special bond formed among the group as a result of the evacuation adventure, and we even held a reunion in Delhi the following week! Hopefully our bond will contribute to greater unity and better working relationships after we return.
The rescue effort
The roads are now open and relief work is in full swing in our city, and we hope to return in a few days to help out. I’m fortunate to have this blog in which to record my memories of the Flood of ’14. Most of my neighbors don’t blog; many of them don’t write at all. I’m looking forward to visiting them, sitting over a cup of tea, and asking about their memories and feelings. Some may be painful and sad. Even if I don’t understand everything, I hope to offer them the gift of listening, of loving them by honoring their stories.
Posted in Uncategorized by Lisa
Flood!
The stream flooded the road into our neighborhood
Yesterday was the fifth straight day of rain. I don’t know how much rain has fallen, but probably more than I experienced in 10 years of life in West Africa and California! Since we live in a mountainous area, the rivers around us quickly swelled with fast-moving water from above. We were grateful that the rain stopped last night, and the water is receding.
We weren’t too worried at first, because we live on relatively high ground, and our apartment is on the second floor. But yesterday morning the nearby river overflowed its banks, and water began flowing across the roads and into our neighbors’ yards.
Water reaches the bottom step
By noon, river water was flooding through our yard as well, and it almost covered the bottom step of the house before it stopped rising. The main road was blocked by fast, muddy water.
Many people have been impacted much more severely. In lower-lying areas people’s homes and gardens have been destroyed. People have died as cars and buses were washed off roads and bridges. Here’s one of many internet news reports: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-29093254
I noticed how easy it was to ignore the rain and the rising water as long as it stayed at a distance. When I saw water rising in our own yard, those news reports of flooded homes and lost family members suddenly seemed more urgent, and more worthy of my concern and prayers.
Power poles down
Human nature is like that; we tend to only care about what touches us directly. Part of what it means to “Love Our Only World” is to intentionally move out into the world, so that we are in a position to be directly touched by what brings suffering to our sisters and brothers.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged flood by Lisa
Picnic, with Cows
On Sunday we invited our landlord and his family to join us for a drive into the hills and a picnic lunch. It was an exploratory trip; we followed a winding road into a canyon and eventually found what we were looking for—a grassy spot in the shade, next to a stream. We laid down the blanket and unpacked our baskets.
It was like many picnics we have enjoyed over the years; we ate lunch and drank tea with the relaxing sound of water cascading over rocks in the background. Doesn’t food always taste better when eaten outdoors? We weren’t bothered by ants at this picnic, but a small herd of cows, along with four goats, passed by on their way to a watering hole.
Picnics here in North India have their differences, as well. Instead of sandwiches, we ate chapatis (flat bread) and dahl (lentils). Our conversation with our landlord’s family alternated between English and the local language, as we practiced expressions for what we were observing around us. Our landlord doesn’t drive, so this was a rare chance for his family to explore “off the beaten track.” We hope this is only the first of many adventures together!
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged picnic by Lisa
Looking for Peace
We finally got our new car, and to celebrate having our own wheels, we took an overnight trip out of town. We drove up into the mountains to Gulmarg, a lovely valley surrounded by pine forest. The mountains here are greener and wetter than our California mountains; the area reminded us of Switzerland. 
Braving Indian traffic, driving on the left side of the highway, and negotiating winding mountain roads were challenging, but we found our way there and back again in our new vehicle, and it now wears a proud coat of dust and muddy tires.
Gulmarg is a tourist destination for Indians who can afford to escape from the summer heat further south. As a result, it was difficult to completely leave the crowds and honking traffic behind, even high in the mountains. But we managed to find a trail to hike into the woods, and later, a quiet table with a view where we drank chai.
Gulmarg has been a vacation get-away spot for many years; it became popular during the British colonial era. A landmark is the 125-year-old Anglican church, now surrounded on three sides by a golf course. In this Muslim-majority area, only a tiny congregation of Indian Christians meets there on Sundays.
The lush and dramatic mountains we traveled into are the Pir Panjal Range; if we were to continue our journey over a few more ridges, we would reach Pakistan. The India-Pakistan border is one of the most heavily militarized in the world, and our local news reports deaths of both soldiers and civilians nearly every week. Both sides are armed with nuclear weapons. Can the peace we experience in these lovely woods ever be mirrored among the peoples of this region?
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged mountains by Lisa