Thirsty in the slums

A reflection on prayer (first written for our church newsletter);

It’s mid-afternoon on another day of seeking to live alongside, learn from, and love our neighbours in a Kolkata slum. At thirty-six degrees and high humidity my clothes are moist and the sweat once again runs down my face. I reach for a drink of warm but still vitally refreshing water. Before putting it to my lips I pause to reflect on the last few hours. Several things flood to mind; my inadequacies communicating in the language, confusion around difficult cultural situations, my lack of physical strength due to the heat, and my struggle to show love and patience to one of the neighbourhood kids. I am reminded of my need for a wisdom, strength and love greater than I find within me.

Inspired by Jesus’ words in John 7:37-38, I pray, “Lord Jesus, I come to you to drink”. Having spent a moment bringing some of my needs to Christ, I spend a moment contemplating him and my thirst for his life to permeate my being. I take a drink and allow the water to refresh my body as his Spirit refreshes my soul. Looking forward to the interactions that will come in the evening ahead, I commit them to him, that through him within me I might be a loving presence to my neighbours. Praying finally, “May rivers of living water flow from within me.”

This little ritual is one expression of a kind of prayer that we have found connecting us deeply with Christ. Spending time in silence, contemplating Jesus, has helped us to soak in his love for us and the people around us. Often this has been through meditation on him through a passage of scripture. Other times we have sought to put our Bibles down, along with our own words, thoughts and petitions, and simply be in his presence, receiving the grace he has for us in that moment. And then there have been times when through an unexpected encounter with a child in the slums, or a beggar on the railway platform we have seen glimpses of the suffering and beauty of Christ.

As Henri Nouwen has written, “In prayer we meet Christ, and in him all human suffering. In service we meet people, and in them the suffering Christ.”

Wood-gas stoves

Cooking dinner for your family should not cause you to contract diseases and die young. And yet according to the World Health Organisation, globally nearly two million deaths per year (mostly women and children) are attributed to respiratory diseases caused by indoor air pollution from open fires and simple stoves.

This affects many families in our community and region, who use simple coal burning stoves. These stoves emit copious amounts of smoke and carbon monoxide, making them a real health concern. Essentially women and children can develop smoker's lungs just through cooking and being around the home.

Preparing food for your family really shouldn't be like this. So we’re excited to see potential for real progress coming within reach of the poor. Over about the last 20 years, the very promising technology of wood-gas stoves (or micro gasifiers) has been developing. These stoves can use any kind of dry chunky biomass as a fuel (such as coconut shells, wood chips, carpentry wastes, manure etc.) But these are gas burning stoves, since instead of burning the biomass in one step, it is first gasified, and then the gas is burnt (all inside one simply constructed portable stove).

The process produces far less harmful air pollutants, and so this kind of stove (among others) is recognized by the WHO as having the potential to dramatically improve the health of some 3 billion people who are still exposed to excessive indoor air pollution.

Another benefit of wood-gas stoves is that the gasified fuel leaves behind a charcoal called biochar. Biochar has excellent properties for boosting soil productivity by retaining moisture and being a perfect home for lots of friendly soil microbes.

Also, when biochar is added to soils, it locks up carbon in the soil. The result is that cooking with these stoves is actually a ‘carbon-negative’ process. This means there is also potential to generate carbon offsets from wood-gas stove projects. Revenue from carbon offsets sold to people in the west can make the stoves financially accessible to the poor by enabling them to pay off their stove through the biochar they produce. Then once they've paid off their stove, families can get on-going economic uplift through using their stove and continuing to produce biochar.

Having thought and prayed about it, we've come to feel that this could be
a good way for us as a foreigners to come alongside our community for its
blessing. So our plan is to start a social business operating in the slums
of our area with the goals of:

* getting clean burning stoves into the community for the health benefit
of the people

* generating employment for people from the slums to manufacture the stoves

* buying back biochar from families using money from carbon offsets sold
to people in the west (thereby making the stoves affordable for the poor)

* helping provide a way for people living in the west to reduce their
carbon footprint and so live a little more responsibly as global citizens

* getting biochar into the soils of urban gardens and farms outside the
city for healthier soils and greater crop yields

* helping establish a small cottage industry in biomass fuel supply
(probably amongst a very poor community that live around and make their
livelihoods from the local dump)

We are excited by a lot of potential good that could come out of all of
this. But we also want to take things slowly. We want to do it in a way
that empowers people in our community, that gives them ownership, helps
them find some of their undiscovered potential, nurtures their gifts and
dreams, and maybe helps cast a vision for business done for the blessing
of the community.

Back at the dump

A few weeks ago I let you know about a family I came across at the local garbage dump. Well in the past few weeks quite a bit has happened. Having visited again to understand more of their situation, I learned that the two kids live with their mum and grandma in one of the shacks opposite the dump. The boy Mongol (meaning ‘joy’) has a disability that prevents him from walking. His dad died a year back. So his mum is now a widow, as well as his grandma. The mum also has mental problems, and so the grandma (in her 80's) is trying to look after them… without any income. They’ve been relying on their neighbours at the dump to share a little food and money with them as they’re able.

On one of our earlier visits we suggested that perhaps the kids could go to a nearby Sisters of Charity (Mother Theresa) home for malnourished children for a little while to improve their health. The grandma (and the neighbours who had gathered) thought this a good idea, but when I returned with a couple of Sisters, she changed her mind, saying, “when I die, they will go. What will happen to them then? But for now I will look after them.”

I definitely respect her desire and courage to care for her grandkids as best she can. And I’m not a fan of institutionalised care where it can be avoided. Yet I feel torn. We also learned that the family has already had two boys die, and so we fear for Mongol and his sister Priyanka as well. Malnourishment and a toxic environment are not a good combination. As things are, will their grandmother be the one to die first?

We've been wrestling with how we can best help this family. For now we're visiting every 2 or 3 of days and taking some rice/bananas/milk powder etc. to supplement what the neighbours are giving. We feel okay about this in the short term, but are also feeling the need to be a little cautious about how we use money. We don’t want to be perceived by the community as the white skinned ATMs or Santa Clauses. It could undermine the good the community is already doing to care for their neighbours, as well as setting up precedents and power dynamics that could make it harder to engage with the community in more sustainable and empowering approaches.

What’s happening at the moment is not sustainable. Our next step is to try to get a local NGO on board to help the family access the government provisions they're entitled to. They should have a ration card (for cheap food like rice and lentils) and get a pension (equivalent to $ 8.50 per month). Although small, even this would make a very big difference for them.

And then beyond all that, there is love we can show, and prayer we can offer to a God who cares deeply. Hoping and praying that God’s will be done, and his kingdom come, here at the dump.

Waiting for light

About 10 months ago now our team was in the process of discerning a region in the city to settle in. One morning before we met to discuss and pray about it, I felt prompted to meditate on Matthew 4:16;

"the people dwelling in darkness
have seen a great light,
and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death,
on them a light has dawned."

While meditating on this verse, a picture of one of the garbage dumps we saw while exploring the city came clearly to mind. Shortly afterwards, for various reasons our team decided to call this part of the city home, and our family found our place to live in a poor community about 5 minutes bicycle ride away from the dump. Since living in the area I’ve been visiting regularly to drop off our garbage and chat to some of the people who live and work there.

Now in recent times I’ve been exploring a ministry/business possibility relating to cleaner burning cook stoves for the poor that use various kinds of biomass for fuel (more on this to come). Well it happens to be that some of the people who make their livelihoods from the dump already retrieve and cut up wood and coconuts to sell as a starter fuel for traditional coal/charcoal stoves. I’ve started to chat a bit with one of these guys, who is happy to cut some up to the right size for me when I need it. (I think there’s some good potential for more work and hopefully better prices for people to produce biomass fuels here).

Anyway, while down at the dump this morning I saw that the door of the little shack he uses to store the wood he’s prepared was open. So I thought I’d drop in to say hi. But instead of the guy who works there, lying on the tiny floor or leaning motionless on sacks of wood and coconut shells, I found a lady and two children around 5 and 7 years old (who I think were the man’s wife and probably grandchildren).

I was shocked by what I saw. The two kids were the most highly malnourished kids I’ve seen in our area. Their limbs were so thin. Unlike our kids who can barely keep still or quiet, there was no play, no talk. They hadn’t the energy for that. Flies were camping out on them, taking advantage of their lack of inclination to swat them away. After a brief exchange I felt intrusive and so said I’d be back in a few days to talk to the man I’d come to see. (We’re thinking about whether there’s anything we can do to help right now… will at least visit them again in the next couple of days to try to understand more of who they are and their situation).

As I rode my bike home, I was struck by a new level of darkness overwhelming some of the poorest people dwelling in this place. They have not yet seen much in the way of light. I wonder, are they even still waiting, or are they resigned to a life of stigmatisation, hunger and poverty? As I rode home, my prayer was for the light of Jesus to dawn in this place… that life may be restored, that justice, hope, joy and peace might come in Him. And that in whatever ways we are to be an answer to that prayer, that we might be given the strength, courage and love to be so.

A long and gruelling walk

Recently we were told by our landlady that an all-day puja (Sitala puja) was coming up and that we must be around for it. There are a lot of different pujas throughout the year, and although of course we don’t participate in the worship, they can be very good learning opportunities. We can build on relationships as we are invited into people’s homes, and also gain insight into the faith of our neighbours and the spiritual climate of our community.

The culmination of the puja this day was when much of the community made their way from the small local temple across three sets of railway tracks to a pond on the other side. Then one by one, they bathed in the pond for purification, before making their way back to the temple. This was done by prostrating themselves on the dirt paths, rocks and railway tracks, tracing out an arc shape around their heads while others sprinkled them with water. They would stand up, take a couple of steps and repeat it, all the way back to the temple plus a few laps around it. (Throughout the procession three trains needed to stop and wait for their tracks to clear)


Finally, having offered puja to Sitala, the presiding priest lit pots of fire and placed them on the heads of some participants, while others reached out to touch the flames and apply it to their own foreheads.


It was nearly all women and children participating in the rituals, even though men were just as free to. It was quite surreal and very sobering to see many young kids, some of whom come to play with our kids in our home, laying themselves out across the paths and tracks.

While I certainly don’t understand everything that happened that day, what we do understand is that our neighbours were seeking blessing from their god. For those facing sickness, or for the poor seeking justice and opportunity, this was a chance to walk a gruelling walk, to punish their bodies as an offering, so that perhaps they too might receive from the fount of divine blessing.

As I see these things, how I wish and pray that my neighbours may know the one who has walked the long and gruelling walk of Calvary before them. That God does not seek their suffering, but loves them dearly, and has himself suffered as a once for all offering to bring their purification and healing.

Lord Jesus, as your Spirit came upon your people at Pentecost, appearing as fire upon them, come in this place too. Blow as a wind in the ways you desire. Open eyes to see you, fill hearts with your love and bring healing from every affliction.

Growing up (again)

Moving into a new culture, learning the language and new ways to do almost everything is a deeply humbling experience. New ways to buy food, cook, wash clothes, get around, go to the toilet. Upon arrival we were like infants. Dependant on our neighbours to learn to survive. With fumbling language, most of the time being unable to understand or be understood. We’ve been growing up from infancy, and in many ways this has been pretty challenging. We’ve felt ignorant, incompetent and at times ridiculed.

Having been here in South Asia for 9 months now (4 in a slum) we’re getting fairly used to a very different, simpler, day to day lifestyle. But there are still many more, deeper differences to absorb properly. Some to embrace and make more a part of who we are, some to leave alone, others to seek to redeem, but all to try to understand. Things like what our neighbours find their identity in, their perspective on time, efficiency vs. relationships, expectations in family and community, how they would dream of a better future, and their view of God, themselves and the world.

So as we have this opportunity to ‘grow up’ again in this place, maybe in some of the practical ways we’ve been able to spring up into teenagers. Yet in many other ways we’re just entering in, still more like children, toddlers or infants plunging head long into a new world. It can be daunting to consider how much there is to learn.

Yet I’m comforted when I think of the way Jesus came to be amongst us. He didn’t come to us as a grown man, fully Jewish in all his ways, fluent in Hebrew, Greek and Aramaic, with complete knowledge of the scriptures. He came as an embryo, a baby, toddler, young boy, teenager and then a man, growing in wisdom and stature as one of his people. Evidently God felt it important that before ‘getting down to business’ he first grow up among his people for a while, learning from and identifying with them, and growing into communion with his father from within his new found humanity and culture.

So as we have begun at infancy in crossing some pretty big cultural and language divides, I feel a peace knowing that we can lean on the one who is familiar with every hardship involved. He has been there, and far further. Because of him I know it is worth it to press on through the challenges. He is able to carry us through.