Rough start

This week got off to a rough start. We said good-bye to one of of our friends that we knew previously from DC as he headed back to the states, leaving our apartment far too quiet and us feeling a little less comfortable without him here to guide us. It's been a great blessing to have friends that we met in DC show us the ropes around our new digs and help us get adjusted. His wife leaves this week and the whole office and ex-pat groups will miss them a lot!
Besides difficult goodbyes, Monday already had a sort of comic dread looming over it. I've been allergic to something here that makes the skin around my eyes dry and puffy so that I have this sort of bug-eyed iguana look going on in the morning... extremely attractive, I promise. I woke up Monday late due to malfunctioning brain that forgot to set an alarm in the same room I was sleeping. After tending to my iguana eye issue, i got dressed in my half traditional-half western garb and ran out the door on my usual trek past the mounds of garbage, staring men, and wild pigs to my boss's home office. I apparently was earlier than I was supposed to be as she was still getting ready and I was locked out on the second floor stoop shooing the massive crows away. Eventually we got everything in order and were off to the train station on our way to a new possibility of homes to work with.
Generally I am a fan of public transport. I think it is a great idea for saving money, being kinder to nature, and getting from one place to another in a consistent and reliable manner. However, the train system here is a little more stressful than my usual metro commute in DC. My boss Stephanie was kind enough to 'steer' me as we pushed and shoved our way into the women's car... and I am not joking about the pushing. Here's a picture from a car in our area.
On the way out of the train all you need do is stand near the door and let go of whatever you had been using for balance and you will magically get shoved along out of the door by the raging river of humanity streaming out of the car, your only obstacle being the unlucky up-stream swimmers making their way onto the car against the pull of gravity. And the pandemonium doesn't end with popping out of the car. Next is the journey up the stairs when the rest of the trains previous inhabitants join in the fray. It was this ascent to the street above that put the finishing touch on ruining my Monday.. which hardly needs any help to begin with.
We've all experienced a bottle neck somewhere... a baseball game as everyone is leaving, the rush to the front car of a roller coaster, elbowing someone to get the fallen pinata candy at a third grade birthday party (hopefully you were in third grade when this occurred) ... we've all had to fend for ourselves in the writhing mass of humanity at some point. Getting out of our train stations here are one of those experiences at all times. I was given very explicit instructions to put one arm across chest holding on to my bag on the opposite shoulder for the mere sake of guarding myself from unwanted 'grazes'. I'm not kidding. I elbowed my way through the crowd 'graze free' until a moment when the crowd closed in and up the stairs became a shoving match and all of the sudden i realized that though i was guarding for frontal assault, my rear was only separated from the world by the long flaps of my kurta (long cotton tunic type shirt), which proved to be not enough for some especially forward member of the crowd who proceeded to grab my butt. With so many people from all different directions there isn't a way to whirl around and deck someone for being entirely inappropriate and intrusive so my first reaction was to make a fist and separate that appendage from my rear as quickly and forcefully as was possible in the circumstances. I reached the top of the stairs grope-free, but still in shock about what had just happened. My colleagues could read my obvious distress and I told them what happened, but not much can be done when you can't see behind you, and even if you can... it might not be that person anyway trying to get a handful of western bum. I get stared at constantly here, so even getting a drawn out glance from someone in a crowd doesn't really lend any clues to who decided to be gross and mean. Again, my Monday didn't need any more help in being rough, but this sealed the deal.
Luckily a good cup of tea and warm hospitality goes a long way to sooth a soul after a traumatic moment, and visiting the ladies who may be the next addition to our weekly visits was a much needed encouragement. It was fantastic to hear the history of the organization that runs this home, and to hear their plans and dreams and to see how we might play a part in them. Thank God for people who care about women in a culture that often doesn't care past their use as physical objects. And thank God that there are women who are beating the odds to come out of these difficult situations and become beacons to those around them.
I started to pray for the gender gap here, and for the person who was out of line to grab me in the station while I was on my way home. I tried to figure out what I was learning in this situation. It's difficult because as the feeling of violation set in I felt helpless and really upset, but I have also noticed that sometimes the battle is won in the direction of grace.
I thought of the story of Jesus in the crowd when the woman with perpetual bleeding touched the hem of his garment and he stopped and asked "who touched me?" because he felt healing power go out of him, and the woman admits it was her and that she believed that if she merely could touch him she would be healed. Jesus tells her to go in peace because her faith has healed her. I know being groped in a train station is a far cry from a woman being healed after touching the fringe of Jesus' robe, but this story impressed itself on my brain. I'm guessing this will not be the last time in this next year that something inappropriate like this will happen to me, and I have been asking that God really make me an instrument of peace and that peace and love would be tangible to the touch, even the unwanted touch. That when these things happen a holy guilt and shame would enter the hearts of these people and cause them to transform their hearts and transform their culture. I've been asking that my pint sized understanding of feeling violated will give me a bigger heart for those I meet and work with every day who have been violated in much worse ways. Also, that the lies of loss of worth or feelings of dehumanization that come with physical violation would be conquered and that the only thing that would remain would be empowerment through love.
I wanted to leave you with a quote from The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis that a friend set me on the trail of some time ago:

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations--these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of the kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinners--no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses. If he is your Christian neighbour, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ vere latitat, the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden.

Please pray for the treatment of those born into oppression and vulnerability, and that the work we are doing will contribute to the effort for positive cultural change.

with love
B