Thanksgiving and the Christmas kick off...

We—volunteers, the site coordinator, and his wife—celebrated Thanksgiving on our monthly retreat with an attempt of re-creating the meal. First of all, we ate with silverware, and I felt confused and disoriented while using it because I have been eating with my hands for the past three months. Since turkey is rare in India, we ate two roasted chickens with roasted fingerling potatoes, and I have never enjoyed potatoes so much in my life. We savored the pumpkin pie and fought over it. Spoons were flying at that point. At this point, my fellow volunteers are family abroad, and we know each other’s quirks and feel comfortable with each other to the extent of bickering over last strip of pie crust. Although I do enjoy Indian food, it is very nice to eat something other than curry (which is anything cooked with a gravy/sauce) and rice.

During our reflection time before our meal, we spoke about what Thanksgiving meant to us, explained our typical celebrations, and mentioned things that we’re thankful for. Being the constant challenger of our norms, our site director, Thomas John Achen, asked if we choose to extend Thanksgiving to our communities and strangers around us. At first, I was somewhat confused but realized that most Thanksgiving celebrations are restricted to family and friends and are a day of indulgence. Often, we do not invite a complete stranger or bestow kindness. Although gratitude is a wonderful thing, does our gratitude move us to action? Does we feel so full of love and gratitude that it overflows to our neighbors—especially those who are less fortunate? I am not trying to preach, but these thoughts definitely crossed my mind during our celebration, which was lovely and memorable.

Over the holiday weekend, we were in Trivandrum, the capital of Kerala, and stayed in a center near the beach, and I relished in our beach time and closeness of the ocean. A few of us swam in our clothes—we already get enough attention so super-ridiculous modesty is often necessary—and played in the water. Very few people know how to swim here, and I have rarely seen any women who splash around in the water. To me, this feels like a tragedy. For those of you that know me well, I usually have to be dragged away from any body of water—lake, stream, pool, or ocean—because I will remain in it until I have to go. The combination of good food, good company, and beach time kept me in a state of bliss during the retreat.

On Saturday, we woke up early to observe the local fisher people. The small boats would come in on the beach, and a group of women and men would analyze the catch. Then they would wash their catch and auction their lots off. Using more traditional methods, other groups would spend around a half hour or longer to pull in their nets. I appreciate community activity and craftsmanship of small scale fishing. Most of these fisher people live in small settlements near the beach, but these settlements are rapidly disappearing. We visited a fish workers’ rights coalition and learned about the challenges and problems of the fishing sector. I cannot help but feel so angry because these people who have lived and fished on these beaches for generations are being displaced due to very harmful corporate fishing practices and tourist resorts. These native fishing practices contain a respect for the environment and keep many people meaningfully employed, and the fisher people have a vast local knowledge of the ocean and know how to live with the necessities. They only ask for subsistence living and legitimate ownership of their beach settlements. Why can’t the government and business people allow these people to live their peaceful lives? It saddens me that hundreds of thousands of people are told that their lifestyle has little value to their country because it does not generate massive profit.

To add fuel to the fire, the church and the Christian community did give some support to the fishers in 1980s, but most eventually left to cater to the needs and desire of the middle and upper class. As Jerome—the activist who spoke to us—sarcastically said, “They put a Bible in our hands and left. Now, the fisher people are being pushed off their land and rarely have enough to live on, but the church says that they at least have a Bible in their hands.” How can the church present such a hollow gospel and neglect their neighbors? There are some faith based organizations left to help the fishing communities, and we visited one place. I am thankful that a few people continue to fight and to love those who need support.

Although I have never participated in a debutante ball, this Sunday felt like my debut to Tiruvalla through my participation in the Tiruvalla Choral Society’s “Divine Incarnation Carol Program.” On Sunday, I sang in my local community choir’s Christmas carol program and finally wore my first sari, a choir uniform sari. Fortunately, the sari looked quite nice with a rich red color and simple embroidery. Unfortunately, two other volunteers, Ariel and Sudie, did not have my luck because they have orange and green or an odd shade of violet for their Christmas program saris. The sari is approximately 5.5 to 6 meters of fabric, and you have to go to a tailor to have the blouse (which is essentially a crop top) made. The folding, draping, and pinning process of the sari is an art unto itself, and two teachers had to help dress me. Due to my height, the sari was a little short on me, but everybody—my volunteer friends, the school teachers, students, and the choir—flipped out because I was wearing it and could somewhat pull it off. One of my students said, “Lindsey kochama, you look like a real Indian woman.” A guy in the choir said that I looked “really cute because of my taper.” I had a little trouble walking in it because I can’t take a normal sized step. I do not know how some women can wear the sari every single day. Regardless of a woman’s body type, saris look great, and I do appreciate having a dress standard which makes everyone look nice. In two weeks, my school has our Christmas carol program, and my students have asked me to wear a sari for that.

During Sunday’s carol program, I enjoyed the combination of English and Malayalam carols in our repertoire but was quite embarrassed because I drew so much attention during the evening. I know that everyone means well, but sometimes, being a novelty item does grow a little old. However, how could I hide? I am a six-foot, white woman who sings much louder than the average person. They formally announced my presence about 3 times, and even, the speaker (a pastor giving a short Christmas kick off homily in Malayalam) mentioned me impromptu. They—choir and audience—were so excited by the global representation and that I sang the Malayalam songs so well. Also, we were featured in the newspapers, and now, I am the foreigner pictured in the Tiruvalla Choral Society. On Monday, a few random people called the school phone line to congratulate my performance. I never expected this kind of welcome! Now, the Tiruvalla Choral Society has asked me to find some music for our spring program, and I may even conduct a song or two for the next concert.

P.S. I will post pictures when I able!