India in my head

Sometimes I wonder why I feel a little foggy mentally, or have trouble concentrating on the task in front of me. This could be due to a host of reasons, but it has helped recently to remember that one contributing factor is the subcontinent in my head. I can go for awhile functioning in the here and now, living life in St. Paul, Minnesota. But lately, I’ve encountered many things that remind me of our life in India. Sometimes it’s a direct link, sometimes a similarity or a contrast. This past Sunday, I was struck by how different our 3-block stroll to church is from the bumpy, 45 minute car ride we grew accustomed to in India. During the reading from the Old Testament, (Exodus 12:1-14) describing the division of the Passover lamb, the image of two sheep in the back of our neighbor’s minivan blazed in my mind. Our driver had raised them and was selling them to our neighbor’s driver, who purchased them for the Eid ul-Fitr feast at the end of Ramadan. As the gospel reading was read first in English and then in Sgaw Karen (language of the refugee people from Myanmar/Thailand) for the part of the Karen-speaking congregation, I was struck by the beautiful and familiar Asian features of those sitting near us; the easternmost state of India borders Myanmar. As I sort through things in the house, I occasionally run across an item with a price tag in Rupees, reminding me of all the daily transactions and negotiations that happened in this currency. Now the kids have some in their piggy banks and it looks like Monopoly money. Doesn’t feel real. When our house fills with the smells of garlic, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, onion, cardamom and a host of other spices, I am reminded of what we ate nearly every day. I miss hot lunches. I miss our dear cook, Kalpana. That’s all for now. More to come.

It comes in waves

So they say of this repatriation process.  It’s true.  At first it was the marveling in all of the goodness and comfort of home.  (see list)  And at the same time feeling like we’re on a different planet, in a parallel universe.  Trying to keep two lives in one head.  Hard.  Wondering all the time what our Indian friends, especially those that have very few resources and little education, would think of our life here.  Of the grocery store.  Of the wide, clean highways.  Of enormous public libraries.

 

Then, and I truly don’t mean this to carry nearly all the weight of its full meaning—but I can’t think of a better term to liken it to—something akin to post-traumatic stress disorder.  Realizing how stressful parts of our lives were in India.  How tightly wound parts of my soul were there…  the angst of living at SUCH a higher standard of living than the overwhelming majority of Indians.  Of having several people (see post below) in our lives, in our HOME EVERY SINGLE DAY, knowing they had many needs and so many less resources and opportunities.  Being confronted by this fact on a daily basis, thinking about our purchases as percentages or multiples of our driver’s salary.

These are good things to encounter.  It is good to get out of my comfortable, well-to-do American world where I rarely encounter needy people and their needs pale in comparison to those in developing countries.  But man, it’s hard.  I am praying that I will be able to continue to think and grow and gain from our time India.  We pray that it has changed us.

These thoughts may sound trite.  And even if they are, they are what’s on my mind now.  That’s what you get for reading this blog. :)

Things I miss about India

On the one hand, we haven’t been away long enough to miss some things yet and we are in the throes of reentering our home country and reuniting with friends and family, so I'm sure there will be more posts like this to come.  

I find what I miss primarily is people: the people who cared for our family—

Raju, who drove us everywhere we needed to be.  As we weren’t allowed to drive, he was literally with us every single time we needed to go anywhere.  To work.  To the store.  To school. To church. On roadtrips. To the hospital when in labor.  Out to dinner.  Home from dinner.  To the doctor with sick child.  To the airport… a million times.

Rani, who helped with the cleaning (a houseful of marble floors needing to be swept and mopped every day to keep away remarkable amounts of quickly accumulating dirt and grime), and who cared for Sarah in the evenings while I put Hannah and Matthew to bed.

Kalpana, who taught me everything I know about Indian cooking, who soaked our fruits and veggies in grapefruit seed extract so we wouldn’t get sick, who boiled milk, boiled beans and chopped and chopped and chopped. And helped us to entertain friends, colleagues and visitors over 50 times.

Bhavani, who helped care for Sarah earlier in the day so I could exercise and catch up on desperately needed sleep (Sarah’s reflux resulted in multiple night wakings for months and months).

Friends from our expat community who went through the ups and downs of living in India with us.  Friends who were our family when we were so far from our own.  Friends with whom we celebrated birthdays, births, and holidays from our home countries.

The diverse and fascinating group of ladies that I met with to pray for our kids on Mondays.

Things I love about being home:

• Eating berries, beef, whole grain crackers and salad.
• PUBLIC LIBRARIES!  Library websites.  Libraries that can find any book you want (like a great Indian cookbook), hold it for you and send you a message telling you it’s ready for you to pick up.
•  Drinking from the tap.  Showering with our mouths open.  Letting Sarah play in the bath.
• Green space!  Parks, running trails, lakes (healthy hues of blues), did I say PARKS?!!
• Customer service. Politeness and friendliness in social and business interactions.
• Constant power supply. Reliable internet connection. Things working like you’ve grown to expect them to.
• Lack of ants and bugs in kitchen.
• The radio!  NPR. Pandora.
• Order. Space. Cleanliness.
• Dishwashers.  Washers and dryers with large capacities.  Again, reliable power supply.

By the numbers:

-          We are 10 weeks into our “summer” (school years ends in March in India.)

-          We had 2 wonderful weeks with my family in Colorado.

-          We are 2 weeks into having Daddy back with us in MN.

-          We are 3 weeks in our new house.

-          We’ve had 2 sets of neighbors bring us a bottle of wine and 6 families welcome us to the neighborhood.

-          We’ve celebrated 5 McCowen family birthdays with 2 more to come yet in June!

-          I’ve unpacked 47 boxes/items of furniture. 

How has the adjustment been?

All in all, things have gone very well.  We are extremely grateful for the soft landing provided by our friends and family who welcomed us into their homes and lives with arms wide open.  There are very few people with whom I could stay for 4 weeks (all 5 of us for the first, me and the three kiddos for the second stretch of 3 weeks) and feel as welcome and comfortable as with Shawna and Will.  Their hospitality was an enormous blessing upon our return.  Not only was I there as a single mom most the of time, but also one mothering 3 tender kids adjusting to a new life, a new country and no school, while tending to the tasks involved in buying a new home (connecting utilities, purchasing some appliances and décor, unpacking a small air shipment and large storage shipment, etc.).

"So, how was India?"

A million blog posts swirl in my head.  My wise friend SB recently reminded me of the value of getting things out…  especially for the highly cognitive types prone to anxiety.  Ahem.  So here I am.

In my (overweening, perhaps?) ambition, I imagined myself settled in already, having written regular and eloquent updates about our repatriation, logging the insights of my family as we adjust to life back in Minnesota.  In reality, I have found myself overwhelmed by the task of setting up a new house (in part, perhaps, by my supersized expectations), unpacking, sorting and organizing… a little overwhelmed by reconnecting with friends and family—so many people to see and so much life to catch up on, so many stories to hear and tell.  I am sad that I have prioritized the endless tasks on my list over taking time to reflect and record some of the process..sad that I’ve missed writing down some of the kids’ responses to this new stage.